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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mr. Claghorn's Daughter, by Hilary Trent
+
+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: Mr. Claghorn's Daughter
+
+Author: Hilary Trent
+
+Release Date: March 1, 2011 [EBook #35436]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. CLAGHORN'S DAUGHTER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                        Mr. Claghorn's Daughter.
+
+                            BY HILARY TRENT.
+
+
+    Copyright, 1903, by J. S. Ogilvie Publishing Company
+
+    All Rights Reserved.
+
+    NEW YORK:
+    J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY,
+    57 ROSE STREET.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+I. A Philosopher and a Marchioness
+
+II. Two Pagans Discuss Fish, Paris and the Higher Criticism
+
+III. A Cousin in the Coils of the Great Serpent
+
+IV. The Diversions of the Claghorns
+
+V. How a Pagan Philosopher Entered the Service of the Church
+
+VI. Art, Diplomacy, Love and Other Things
+
+VII. A Conference of Spinsters Concerning a Runaway Damsel
+
+VIII. A Maiden Fair, a Modern Early Father and a Theologian
+
+IX. The Advantages of Treading the Borderland of Vice
+
+X. A Youth of Promise, a Female Politician, and a Yellow Man
+
+XI. The Devil Walks To and Fro in Hampton
+
+XII. Her Eyes Grew Limpid and Her Cheeks Flushed Red
+
+XIII. Whereat Cynics and Matrons May Smile Incredulous
+
+XIV. In the White House--A Damsel or the Devil, Which?
+
+XV. Sur le Pont d'Avignon on y Danse, on y Danse
+
+XVI. Warblings in the White House and Snares for a Soul
+
+XVII. The Secret of Her Heart Was Never Told by Her to Him
+
+XVIII. A Lover Writes a Letter
+
+XIX. A Kiss that Might Have Lingered on His Lips While Seeking Entrance
+at the Gate of Heaven
+
+XX. A Dishonest Veiling of a Woman's Heart
+
+XXI. A Man About to Meet a Maid
+
+XXII. Man Walketh in a Vain Shadow
+
+XXIII. A Parson Treads the Primrose Path in Paris
+
+XXIV. To Him I will be Henceforth True in All Things
+
+XXV. Mrs. Joe on Clerical Bumptiousness and Mrs. Fenton's Shoulders
+
+XXVI. Introduces Dr. Stanley, Satan and the Prayer Meeting of Matrons
+
+XXVII. The Music of the Chorus of the Anguish of the Damned
+
+XXVIII. Cursing and Beating Her Breast, She Falls Upon the Grave
+
+XXIX. Dr. Stanley Discourses Concerning the Diversions of the Saints
+
+XXX. Startling Effect of Dr. Burley's True Meaning
+
+XXXI. He Clasped Her Lithe Body with a Clutch of Fury
+
+XXXII. A Pæan of Victory Hymned in Hell
+
+XXXIII. A Delectable Discussion in Which a Shakesperian Matron is Routed
+
+XXXIV. When Manhood is Lost Woman's Time is Come
+
+XXXV. A Bottle of Champagne
+
+XXXVI. She Cried Aloud She Was a Guilty Creature
+
+XXXVII. A Golden Bridge for Passage Across an Abyss of Shame
+
+XXXVIII. The Ruins of Her Air Castles Lay Around Her
+
+XXXIX. Voidable Vows of Turks (and Others)
+
+XL. Her Face Was the Mirror of Her Pleasant Dreams
+
+XLI. Her Guilty Conscience Cried, "Behold Your Handiwork"
+
+XLII. I Will Never Leave Him, So Help Me God!
+
+XLIII. Money, Heaps of Money
+
+XLIV. Wedding Bells
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE.
+
+
+Some readers of this novel will charge the author with the crime of
+laying a sacrilegious hand upon the Ark of God; others will characterize
+his work as an assault upon a windmill.
+
+I contend (and the fact, if it be a fact, is ample justification for
+this book) that The Westminster Confession of Faith has driven many
+honest souls to the gloom of unbelief, to the desperate need of a denial
+of God; and that to-day a very large number of the adherents of that
+Confession find it possible to maintain their faith in God only by
+secret rejection of a creed they openly profess.
+
+Take from that Confession those Articles which give rise to the dilemma
+which confronts the wife and mother of this story, and nothing is left.
+The articles in question are the essential articles of the Confession.
+
+He who can in honesty say of The Westminster Confession of Faith: "This
+is my standard: by this sign I shall conquer," he, and he only, has the
+right to condemn my purpose.
+
+HILARY TRENT.
+
+
+
+
+MR. CLAGHORN'S DAUGHTER
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+A PHILOSOPHER AND A MARCHIONESS.
+
+
+Mr. (by preference Monsieur) Beverley Claghorn, of the Rue de la Paix,
+Paris, was a personage of some note in that world in which he had lived
+for many years. His slightly aquiline nose and well-pointed moustache,
+his close-cropped grizzled hair, his gold-rimmed pince-nez, his hat, his
+boots--his attire as a whole--successfully appealed to a refined taste.
+The sapphire, encircled by tiny diamonds, which adorned his little
+finger, beautiful to the common eye, was, in the eye of the connoisseur,
+a rare and exquisite gem. Except as to an inch or two of stature, the
+outward man of Monsieur Claghorn left nothing to be desired; while as to
+his intellectual calibre, he to whom it was best known regarded it with
+respect, even with admiration; his moral deportment had never occasioned
+scandal; with the goods of this world he was liberally endowed. As a
+philosopher (for he affected that character) he should have been a
+contented man; being human, as philosophers must be, he was not. As
+against the advantages indicated, Monsieur had grievances incompatible
+with contentment. He was nearer sixty than forty, which was one cause of
+sorrow; another was that, in spite of the effort of years, he had not in
+fact become a Parisian. He had succeeded in approaching the type very
+nearly; nevertheless, though his card might proclaim him "Monsieur" and
+imply its owner to the Gallic manner born, the truth remained that he
+was not so born. His language, by dint of effort, aided by native
+talent, had become almost as easy and as idiomatic as the enunciations
+of those who formed the world in which he dwelt, yet he was poignantly
+aware that therein was still to be detected an echo of the twang of his
+youth and of his native tongue. His surname, too, as a stumbling block
+to his friends, was a source of vexation. Had he been born a Dobbins, a
+mere apostrophe would have made him a d'Obbins and content. But the
+uncompromising appellation of his ancestors refused to lend itself to a
+fraud, though venial, and even ennobling, and thus remained a source of
+repining; a gentle regret that his cognomen was not more fitting to his
+environment. But as to his name received in baptism, therewith was
+connected a grief so deep and a dread so great, that it was, perhaps,
+the most baleful of his closeted skeletons. Fortune having so far
+enabled Monsieur to hide the sorrow connected with his Christian name,
+let us also leave the matter to fortune.
+
+To enumerate all the grievances of our philosopher would be a tedious
+task, but there was one of such magnitude that it may be regarded as the
+great grievance of his existence. This was Christianity.
+
+That earnest conviction of the truth of orthodox Christianity should
+incite to propagandism is easily comprehensible. A reasonable sinner
+will not complain of the believer's desire to save errant souls; indeed,
+he may well be amazed that the believer engages in any other occupation.
+But why the rage for proselytizing should inspire the non-believer is
+less obvious. Why should the heathen rage because the zealot is deluded
+by hope and his eyes deceived by the cheering illusions offered by
+faith? If the rough road of the Christian wayfarer, its gloomy valleys
+and dark caverns are smoothed and illumined by the cheering light of
+conviction, why should the skeptic object, and beckon the fervent
+pilgrim from his chosen path to that broader and more alluring road
+selected by himself? Can it be that, like a boy who fears the coming
+darkness, the skeptic craves companionship, suspecting hobgoblins after
+sunset?
+
+Monsieur Claghorn was indignant that the world, as he knew it, either
+professed a more or less orthodox belief in God, or cared nothing about
+the matter. Both attitudes aroused his ire.
+
+"My dear Claghorn," urged his connexion, the Marquise de Fleury, "why
+not leave these matters to Père Martin, as I do? I assure you it is
+comforting," and the little matron shrugged her rather sharp
+shoulder-blades and nestled more snugly in the corner of her blue-silk
+sofa.
+
+"It is degrading to the intellect."
+
+"Ah! The intellect--I have none; I am all soul."
+
+"You--the brightest woman in Paris!"
+
+"Too broad, _mon ami_. Exaggeration destroys the delicate flavor of a
+compliment."
+
+"Louise, you are in a bad humor. Evidently, you don't like your gown."
+
+"The gown is ravishing, as you should have seen before this. It is you,
+my friend, who are angry. To what end? Angry at nothing? That is
+foolish. Angry at something? Considering that that Something is God----"
+
+"There you have it,--fear. Women rule men through their passions; and
+priests rule women through their fears."
+
+"_Eh bien!_ Have it so. You deny God. It is daring--splendid--but what
+do you gain, what do you gain, _mon ami_?"
+
+"I deny your impossible God, and in so doing, I retain my self-respect."
+
+"A valuable possession, doubtless. Yet the fact remains that you fight
+windmills, or you fight the power that loosens the hurricane. Futile
+warfare!"
+
+Monsieur shrugged his shoulders. A woman's argument is rarely worthy the
+attention of a philosopher.
+
+"Behold," continued the little Marquise, "behold Père Martin. He is
+good; he is wise. What has he to gain? Only heaven. He sacrifices much
+on earth--pleasure, dignity, power----"
+
+"He has more power than a king----"
+
+"Listen, my friend, and do not interrupt. If he has power over me and
+such as I--which is what you mean--he uses it discreetly, kindly. I
+enjoy life, I hope for heaven. You enjoy life, of heaven you have no
+hope. Which of us is wise?"
+
+"You believe because you think it safer."
+
+"_Dame, mon ami!_ It costs nothing."
+
+"It is cowardly."
+
+"Ah, well, my friend, I am a coward. Let us discuss something less
+gruesome. This charming Natalie! You will let her come to me, now that
+she is to leave the barbarians?"
+
+"I, too, am a coward. I fear Père Martin."
+
+"Believe me, my friend," said the Marquise, more seriously than she had
+yet spoken, "you do wrong. Women need religion. They must adore; they
+must sacrifice themselves to the object of their worship. As a rule they
+have a choice. They may worship God or they may worship Love. To one or
+the other they will devote themselves or miss their destiny. Which is
+less dangerous?"
+
+"There is danger everywhere," replied the philosopher, discontentedly.
+"But, indeed, Louise, this matter is more serious to me, the unbeliever,
+than to you, the Christian. You Latins do not comprehend the reverence
+we of a different race assign to principle. I think it wrong, immoral,
+to expose my daughter to an atmosphere of falsehood."
+
+"Monsieur, you are unjust to us Latins; and worse, you are impolite."
+
+"I am serious. I think Christianity the curse of mankind."
+
+"And you object to it. That is magnanimous."
+
+"Natalie has been left in total ignorance of all religion."
+
+"Charming--but hardly _de rigueur_ for a de Fleury."
+
+"She is a Claghorn."
+
+"An excellent thing to be; enviable indeed, my dear,--in America. But
+she will be a Parisienne; we hope a de Fleury, of a house by inheritance
+religious. The wife of the Marquis de Fleury must uphold the family
+traditions. Do you not see, my friend, that it is thirty generations of
+nobles that insist."
+
+Monsieur Claghorn, though in doubt as to God, believed in the
+generations. He had long looked forward to the time when his daughter
+should be united to the last scion of this ancient race. True, the
+title was in these days purely ornamental; but, though a philosopher, he
+was not of that unwise class which can see no value in adornment. He
+suspected that the noble Marquis, whose coronet he craved for his
+daughter, as well as his mama, the little lady to whom he was talking,
+were in truth as much interested in the material as in the spiritual
+attributes of the future mother of the race, but he was also aware that
+there were other influences to be considered.
+
+"Perhaps Père Martin is even more insistent than the thirty
+generations," he suggested.
+
+"Even so, my friend; when Père Martin insists it is my conscience that
+insists."
+
+"After all, Louise, this discussion is premature. Adolphe is still at
+St. Cyr, Natalie at school----"
+
+"But to-day we prepare for to-morrow. Adolphe will soon be a lieutenant,
+your daughter a woman. Let her come to me. Our prayers, those of Père
+Martin and mine, cannot harm her."
+
+"Assuredly not, still----"
+
+"But my good pagan, do you intend to refuse? Is it worth nothing to your
+daughter to be introduced by the Marquise de Fleury?"
+
+It was worth so much that M. Claghorn had no intention of refusing. "And
+Adolphe?" he asked.
+
+"Will remain at St. Cyr. Fear nothing, my friend. I shall do nothing in
+that matter without consulting you."
+
+"You are always kind. It shall be as you wish." And then, after some
+further indifferent conversation, the Marquise was by M. Claghorn handed
+to her carriage for a promenade in the Bois; while the philosopher,
+after that act of courtesy, left her to visit La Duchesne, a fashionable
+seeress, who prophesied as to the course of stocks.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+TWO PAGANS DISCUSS FISH, PARIS AND THE HIGHER CRITICISM.
+
+
+It was midsummer. The Marquise was in Brittany, Monsieur in Germany; or,
+as Madame de Fleury patriotically expressed it, among the barbarians, he
+having penetrated into barbaric wilds in order to reclaim his daughter,
+whose education, for the past two years, had been progressing under
+barbaric auspices.
+
+There is, not far from Heidelberg, and in that part of the country of
+the barbarians known as the Odenwald, a quaint village called
+Forellenbach; and hard by the village, which is clustered against a
+steep hill-side, there dashes in cascades that foam and roar, a stream,
+from the dark pools whereof are drawn trout, which, by the excellent
+host of the Red-Ox are served hot, in a sauce compounded of white wine
+and butter; and these things render the place forever memorable to him
+who loves fish or scenery, or both.
+
+Monsieur Claghorn and his daughter were seated in the garden of the
+Red-Ox. They had arrived at the inn in a carriage, being on their way to
+Heidelberg. From Natalie's school they had journeyed by rail to Bad
+Homburg; and from that resort, having despatched the girl's maid ahead
+by train, they had commenced a mode of travel which Natalie secretly
+hoped would not end as soon as had been originally anticipated; for the
+trip thus far had been the most delightful experience of her life.
+
+There were reasons for this delight besides the joy derived from driving
+in pleasant weather, over smooth roads, through curious villages, beside
+winding rivers whose vineclad hills echoed the raftsman's song; beneath
+the trees of many a forest, passing often the ruins of some grim keep,
+which silently told to the girl its story of the time that, being past,
+was a time of romance when life was more beautiful, more innocent, less
+sordid than now. Not that Natalie knew much of the unpleasing features
+of modern life, or of any life (else had her self-made pictures of other
+days borne a different aspect), still the past had its attraction for
+her, as it has for all that love to dream; and from her Baedeker she had
+derived just enough information to form the basis of many a tender scene
+that had never taken place, in days that never were or could have been.
+Her dreams were not wholly of the past, but of the future as well; all
+impossible and as charming as innocence and imagination could paint
+them. School was behind her, her face toward France, a home fireside,
+liberty and happiness for all time to come. No vision of the days in
+which she had not lived could be more alluring than the visions of the
+days in which she was to live, nor more delusive.
+
+Beverley Claghorn looking upon his daughter, perhaps, also saw a
+visionary future. He loved her, of course. He respected her, too, for
+had not her mother been of the ancient House of Fleury? It was no
+ignoble blood which lent the damask tint to cheeks upon which he gazed
+with complacent responsibility for their being. The precious fluid,
+coursing beneath the fair skin, if carefully analyzed, should exhibit
+corpuscles tinged with royal azure. For, was it not true that a
+demoiselle of her mother's line had been, in ancient days, graciously
+permitted to bear a son to a king of France, from which son a noble
+House had sprung with the proud privilege of that bar sinister which
+proclaimed its glory? These were facts well worthy to be the foundation
+of a vision in which he saw the maid before him a wife of one of the old
+noblesse; a mother of sons who would uphold the sacred cause of
+Legitimacy, as their ancestors (including himself, for he was a furious
+Legitimist) had done before them. It would solace the dreaded status of
+grandfather.
+
+"What are you thinking of, Natalie?" he asked in French.
+
+"Of many things; principally that I am sorry he showed them to us."
+
+"The trout?"
+
+"Yes, I am so hungry."
+
+"They have sharpened your appetite. They are beautiful fish."
+
+"I'm glad they haven't spoiled it. Why, papa, they were alive! Did you
+see their gills palpitate?"
+
+"They are very dead now."
+
+"And we shall eat them. It seems a pity."
+
+He laughed. "Grief will not prevent your enjoyment," he said; "you will
+have a double luxury--of woe, and----"
+
+"You are ashamed of my capacity for eating, papa. It is very
+unromantic."
+
+Papa smiled, raising his eyelids slightly. He seemed, and in fact was, a
+little bored. "Haven't we had enough of this?" he asked.
+
+"But we haven't had any yet."
+
+"I don't mean trout--I only hope they won't be drowned in bad butter--I
+mean of this," and he lazily stretched his arms, indicating the
+Odenwald.
+
+She sighed. Her secret hope that the journey by carriage might be
+extended further than planned was waning. "I was never so happy in my
+life," she exclaimed. "I shall never forget the pine-forests, the hills,
+the castles; nor the geese in the villages; nor the horrible little
+cobblestones----"
+
+"Nor the sour wine----"
+
+"That is your French taste, papa. The _vin du pays_ is no better in
+France. The wine is good enough, if you pay enough."
+
+"The Lützelsachser is drinkable, the Affenthaler even good," admitted
+Monsieur, indulgent to barbaric vintage; "but think of yesterday!"
+
+"Think of an epicure who expected to get Affenthaler in that poor little
+village! They gave you the best they had."
+
+"Which was very bad." He laughed good-naturedly. "I dread a similar
+experience if we continue this method of travel."
+
+"I could travel this way forever and forever!" She sighed and extended
+her arms, then clasped her hands upon her breast. It was an unaffected
+gesture of youth and pleasure and enthusiasm.
+
+It made him smile. "Wait until you have seen Paris," he said.
+
+"But I have seen Paris."
+
+"With the eyes of a child; now you are a woman."
+
+"That is so," somewhat dreamily, as though this womanhood were no new
+subject of reverie. "I am eighteen--but why should Paris be especially
+attractive to a woman?"
+
+"Paris is the world."
+
+"And so is this."
+
+"This, my dear----" the remonstrance on his lips was interrupted by the
+arrival of the fish.
+
+They were very good: "_Ravissant!_" exclaimed Natalie, who displayed a
+very pitiless appreciation of them. "Not so bad," admitted papa.
+
+"And so I am to stay with my cousin, the Marquise," said the girl, after
+the cravings of an excellent appetite had been satisfied. "Papa, even
+you can find no fault with this Deidesheimer," filling her glass as she
+spoke.
+
+"With your cousin for a time, anyhow. It is very kind of her, and for
+you nothing better could be wished. She sees the best world of Paris."
+
+"And as I remember, is personally very nice."
+
+"A charming woman--with a fault. She is devout."
+
+"I have known some like her," observed Natalie. "There was Fräulein
+Rothe, our drawing-mistress, a dear old lady, but very religious."
+
+"I hope none of them attempted to influence you in such matters," he
+said, frowning slightly.
+
+"No. It was understood that you had expressly forbidden it. I was left
+out of the religious classes; they called me 'The Pagan.'"
+
+"No harm in that," commented Monsieur rather approvingly.
+
+"Oh, no! It was all in good-nature. The Pagan was a favorite. But, of
+course, I have had some curiosity. I have read a little of the Bible."
+She made her confession shyly, as though anticipating reproach.
+
+"There is no objection to that," he said. "At your age you should have a
+mind of your own. Use it and I have no fear as to the result. My view is
+that in leaving you uninfluenced I have done my duty much more fully
+than if I had early impressed upon you ideas which I think pernicious,
+and which only the strongest minds can cast aside in later life. What
+impression has your Bible reading left?"
+
+"The Jews of the Old Testament were savages, and their book is
+unreadable for horrors. The Gospel narratives seem written by men of
+another race. The character of Jesus is very noble. He must have lived,
+for he could not have been invented by Jews. Of course, he was not God,
+but I don't wonder that his followers thought so."
+
+"He was a Great Philosopher," answered Monsieur Claghorn with high
+approval. "The incarnation of pure stoicism, realizing the ideal more
+truly than even Seneca or Marcus. And what of the literary quality of
+the book?"
+
+"The gospels are equal to the Vicar of Wakefield or Paul and Virginia.
+As to the rest," she shrugged her shoulders after the French
+fashion--"Revelation was written by a maniac."
+
+"Or a modern poet," observed the gentleman.
+
+Now while these latest exponents of the Higher Criticism were thus
+complacently settling the literary standing of Luke and John, placing
+them on as high a level as that attained by Goldsmith and St. Pierre,
+the man smoking and the girl sipping wine (for the fish had been
+devoured and their remains removed), two persons came into the garden.
+They carried knapsacks and canes, wore heavy shoes, were dusty and
+travel-stained. The elder of the pair had the clerical aspect; the youth
+was simply a very handsome fellow of twenty or thereabout, somewhat
+provincial in appearance.
+
+Beverley Claghorn glanced at the pair, and with an almost imperceptible
+shrug of the shoulders, which, if it referred to the newcomers, was not
+complimentary, continued to smoke without remark. The girl was more
+curious.
+
+"They are English," she said.
+
+"Americans," he answered, with a faint shade of disapproval in his
+tone.
+
+"But so are we," she remonstrated, noting the tone.
+
+"We can't help it," he replied, resenting one of his grievances. "You
+can hardly be called one."
+
+"Is it disgraceful?"
+
+"Not at all; but I don't flaunt it."
+
+"But, papa, surely you are not ashamed of it?"
+
+"Certainly not. But it is a little tiresome. Our countrymen are so
+oppressively patriotic. They demand of you that you glory in your
+nativity. I don't. I am not proud of it. I shouldn't be proud of being
+an Englishman, or a Frenchman, or an Italian, or----"
+
+"In fact, papa, you are not proud at all."
+
+"Natalie," proceeded the philosopher, not noticing the interruption,
+"one may be well-disposed toward the country of one's birth; one may
+even recognize the duty of fighting, if need be, for its institutions.
+But the pretence of believing in one's country, of fulsome adoration for
+imperfect institutions, is to welcome intellectual slavery, to surrender
+to the base instinct of fetichism."
+
+"Like religion," she said, recognizing the phrase.
+
+"Like religion," he assented. "You will find when you are as old as I am
+that I am right."
+
+"Yet people do believe in religion. There's Fräulein Rothe----"
+
+"Natalie, no reasoning being can believe what is called Christianity,
+but many beings think that they believe."
+
+"But why don't they discover that they don't think what they think they
+think?"
+
+"There's nothing strange in that. When they were young they were told
+that they believed, and have grown up with that conviction. The same
+people would scorn to accept a new and incredible story on the evidence
+which is presented in favor of the Christian religion."
+
+The girl sighed as though the paternal wisdom was somewhat
+unsatisfactory. Meantime the slight raising of Monsieur's voice had
+attracted the attention of the dusty wayfarers who, in default of other
+occupation, took to observing the pair.
+
+"She is very pretty," said the youth.
+
+The elder did not answer. He was intently scrutinizing Beverley
+Claghorn. After a moment of hesitation he surprised his companion by
+rising and approaching that person with outstretched hand.
+
+"I cannot be mistaken," he exclaimed in a loud, hearty voice. "This is a
+Claghorn."
+
+"That is my name," replied the would-be Gallic owner of the appellation
+in English. "I have the honor of seeing----" but even as he uttered the
+words he recognized the man who was now shaking a somewhat reluctant
+hand with gushing heartiness.
+
+"I am Jared. You remember me, of course. I see it in your eyes. And so
+this is really you--Eliphalet! 'Liph, as we called you at the old Sem.
+'Liph, I am as glad to see you as a mother a long-lost son."
+
+"And I," replied the other, "am charmed." He bore it smiling, though his
+daughter looked on in wonder, and he felt that the secret of his baptism
+had been heartlessly disclosed.
+
+"This," said Jared, "is my son, Leonard," and while the son grew red and
+bowed, the clergyman looked at the girl to whom his son's bow had been
+principally directed.
+
+"My daughter, Natalie de Fleury-Claghorn," said her father. "My dear,
+this is my cousin, Professor Claghorn, whom I have not seen for many
+years."
+
+"Not since we were students together at Hampton Theological Seminary,"
+added Jared, smilingly. He habitually indulged in a broad smile that
+indicated satisfaction with things as he found them. It was very broad
+now, as he offered his hand, saying, "And so you are 'Liph's daughter,
+and your name is Natalidaflurry--that must be French. And your mother,
+my dear, I hope----"
+
+"My wife has been dead since my daughter's birth," interrupted Monsieur,
+"and I," he added, "long ago discarded my baptismal name and assumed
+that of my mother."
+
+"Discarded the old name!" exclaimed the Reverend Jared, surprised. "Had
+I been aware of that, I surely would have given it to Leonard. I
+regarded it, as in some sort, the property of the elder branch. Surely,
+you don't call yourself Susan?"
+
+"My mother's name was Susan Beverley; I assumed her family name." The
+philosopher uttered the words with a suavity that did him credit. Then,
+apologetically, and in deference to his cousin's evident grief: "You
+see, Eliphalet was somewhat of a mouthful for Frenchmen."
+
+"And so the old name has fallen into disuse," murmured Jared
+regretfully. "We must revive it. Leonard, upon you----"
+
+But Leonard had taken Natalie to look at the cascades.
+
+So, lighting fresh cigars, the two former fellow-students commenced a
+revival of old memories. Their discourse, especially on the part of the
+clergyman, contained frequent allusion to family history, which to the
+reader would be both uninteresting and incomprehensible. But, since some
+knowledge of that history is requisite to the due understanding of the
+tale that is to be told, the respected personage indicated is now
+invited to partake of that knowledge.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+A COUSIN IN THE COILS OF THE GREAT SERPENT.
+
+
+Professor and the Reverend Jared Claghorn has already intimated that the
+name Eliphalet was an honored one in the family. An Eliphalet Claghorn
+had been a man of mark among the Pilgrims. His eldest son had borne his
+parent's name and had succeeded to the clerical vocation; an example
+which he had imposed upon his own first-born, and thus became
+established the custom of giving to a son of each Eliphalet the name of
+his father, in the pleasing hope that he who bore the revered
+appellation might be called to serve in the Lord's fold, as shepherd of
+the flock; which hope had generally been realized. In due course that
+Eliphalet who was destined to beget Beverley had been called, had
+answered the summons, and at the birth of his only son, had, with
+confident expectation of a similar call to the latter, named his name
+"Eliphalet."
+
+In time the call was heard. The youth, fully assured that he, like the
+ancestral Eliphalets, would find his field of labor in the vineyard of
+God, had gone so far in acceptance of his solemn duty as to enter the
+well-known Theological Seminary at Hampton, there to fit himself for the
+only future he had ever contemplated.
+
+Then a shock had come,--a great legacy from one of two California
+brothers, both long given up as dead. From the moment this fortune came
+into his possession, the father of Beverley Claghorn, always a stern and
+gloomy man, the product of a ruthless creed, knew no day of peace. He
+craved worldly distinction--not the pleasures which beckoned his
+son--with a craving which only a starved nature with powers fitting to
+the world can know. On the other hand, a rigid sense of duty, perhaps,
+too, the gloomy joy of martyrdom, urged him to reject a temptation which
+he persuaded himself was offered by the Prince of Darkness. He remained
+outwardly true to his duty, an unhappy soldier at the post assigned
+him, and died as his fathers had died, in the odor of sanctity; in his
+heart hankering to the last for the joys offered by the world to him who
+has wealth, and to the last sternly rejecting them.
+
+Secretly, though with bitter self-condemnation, he had approved his
+son's renunciation of the theological course. Not with his lips. It was
+impossible for him, stubbornly believing, as he had always believed,
+though now with the frequent doubts and fears of the new standpoint he
+occupied, to openly approve the intentions displayed by the youth. Yet
+he acquiesced in silence, secretly hoping to see the son, who had
+commenced the study of the law, a power in the State. That he was never
+to see, and it was well that he died before the renegade Eliphalet had
+extinguished such hope by voluntary exile.
+
+Beverley's history, or at least that portion of it which he chose to
+impart, was told in reply to the eager questioning of Jared. Perhaps he
+was not sorry that his old fellow-student should note his air of man of
+fashion and aristocrat, and he set forth the renown of the de Fleury
+lineage, innocently shocking his cousin by explaining the meaning and
+glory of that bar sinister, which he himself revered.
+
+Jared, on his part, narrated at much greater length than his auditor
+sympathetically appreciated, the history of his own life. He, too, had
+married brilliantly--a Morley, as he informed his cousin, and one who,
+dying, had left him well endowed with this world's goods, and it may be
+that it was by reason of this fact, as well as because of superior
+attainments, that the speaker had developed into a teacher in that same
+seminary where the two had been fellow-students.
+
+"Yes," he said in a tone of satisfaction, "I hold down the chair of
+Biblical Theology in Hampton. You would hardly recognize the old Sem,
+El--Beverley."
+
+"I suppose not. I shall make a flying trip there some day."
+
+"A flying trip! Surely you don't intend to abandon your country
+forever?"
+
+"Not unlikely. You see, I am more of a Frenchman than anything else, and
+my daughter is quite French."
+
+"She speaks English?"
+
+"Oh, as to that, as well as anybody. She has been largely educated in
+England. But her relatives, I mean those that she knows, look upon her
+as belonging wholly to them, and----"
+
+"I trust she is not a Romanist, Cousin."
+
+"You mean a Catholic. Make your mind easy; she is not."
+
+"I truly rejoice to hear it," exclaimed Jared with fervor. "But I might
+have known," he added apologetically, "that a Claghorn would not suffer
+the perversion of his child." Whereat Monsieur changed the topic.
+
+Meanwhile, the young ones of the party had gone to investigate an echo
+in a glen hard by, directed thereto by the host of the Red-Ox. They were
+conducted by a stolid maiden, told off for that purpose, a fact which
+Monsieur Claghorn, from his place in the garden, noted with
+satisfaction.
+
+Freed from the restraint of the presence of the philosopher, whose
+raiment and bearing had inspired him with awe, Leonard's engaging
+simplicity and frank manner added to the favorable impression of his
+beautiful face.
+
+The charms of nature about them were attractive to both and it was easy
+to become acquainted, with so much of interest in common. The girl's
+enthusiasm, somewhat dampened by the philosopher, returned in the
+presence of a sympathetic listener, and she told the tale of their
+wanderings, concluding by expressing the opinion that Germany must be
+the most delightful of all countries.
+
+"This part is fine," said Leonard. "But wait until you see the Black
+Forest."
+
+"I hope to see it when we leave Heidelberg. Is the wine good?"
+
+"I don't know," was the answer. "I didn't drink any wine."
+
+"It must be very bad if you wouldn't drink it," she observed
+despondently. "Papa scolds about the wine of the Bergstrasse, which, for
+my part, I find very good. Then, at the better inns one isn't confined
+to the vintage of the neighborhood."
+
+"Surely, you don't drink wine!" exclaimed Leonard.
+
+"Not drink wine! What should I do with it?"
+
+"It biteth like a serpent and stingeth like an adder," he quoted
+gravely, not at all priggishly. He was sincere in his confidence in
+Solomon, and his surprise and sorrow were honest.
+
+"Wine does!" she laughed. "I never knew that before. Don't Americans
+drink wine?"
+
+"Some do," he admitted. "Our best people do not drink. We think the
+example bad."
+
+"_Par example!_ And how do your best people manage at dinner?"
+
+"With water."
+
+"Decidedly, I should not like dining with your best people."
+
+"But, Cousin Natalie--that is a very pretty name;" here he blushed
+engagingly--"wine makes one drunk."
+
+"Certainly, if one gets drunk."
+
+"Then, how can you drink wine?"
+
+The question and the serious manner of its asking were incomprehensible
+to the girl, who laughed at the incongruity of the ideas suggested by
+drinking wine on the one hand, and getting drunk on the other. Then the
+subject was dropped; perhaps they recognized that it was enveloped in
+clouds of misunderstanding which were impenetrable.
+
+The glen in which dwells the echo of Forellenbach is like a roofless
+cave, or a great well with a side entrance. Its floor being wet, Natalie
+remained at the entrance, trusting there to hear whatever might be worth
+hearing. Leonard passed into the well.
+
+He looked back. She stood in the light, smiling upon this new-found
+cousin, who had such strange ideas as to wine, but withal, her eyes were
+kindly. If either had any premonition of the future, it must have been
+false or partial, or they had not faced each other smiling. He had
+intended to shout aloud her pretty name and thus to test the echo; but
+instinct warned him that this was hardly fitting. So, perhaps, with a
+vague desire to connect her with the trial, he compromised, and the word
+he shouted was "Claghorn."
+
+It was returned to him in various modulations from all sides. The
+effect was startling, but even more so were the words that fell upon his
+ear as the echoes died away: "Who are you, and what do you want?"
+
+The question came from above. Leonard, looking upward, saw the face of a
+youth who, from the top of the cliff, was peering down. Upon the head of
+this person, rakishly worn, was a blue cap, braided with silver and red
+velvet. The face had penetrating eyes, rather stern, and a mouth shaded
+by a dark moustache. The question was repeated, it seemed to Leonard
+truculently: "What do you want?"
+
+The words were German, but easily understood. Leonard answered in
+English: "I don't want you."
+
+"Then, why did you call me?" Now the words were English and the tone
+awakened Leonard's resentment. "Do you suppose that every one that tries
+the echo is calling you?" he asked.
+
+"You called me. Why?"
+
+Leonard labored under the disadvantage of hearing all that was said
+repeated many times. It was irritating; nor was the tone of the other
+pacific. It was even war-like. "I didn't address you," he said. "I do
+now: Be silent!"
+
+The other laughed. "_Bist ein dummer Junge_, my son," he said. "I
+suppose you are a student. Get your card."
+
+He disappeared, evidently with a view of intercepting Leonard who,
+emerging from the cave, met him almost at Natalie's side.
+
+The newcomer was surprised to see the girl. "I beg your pardon," he
+said, removing his cap; then, aside to Leonard: "I will accept your card
+on another occasion, if you prefer. You are a student of Heidelberg, I
+suppose?"
+
+"I am a student, certainly, of Hampton, in the United States. I have no
+card. My name is Claghorn."
+
+The sternness of the newcomer gave place to astonishment. "I beg your
+pardon, and your sister's," he said, glancing at Natalie. "My name
+happens to be the same. Naturally, I supposed----"
+
+"The place seems to be alive with Claghorns," exclaimed Leonard.
+
+"And since you are from Hampton, I believe we are related," continued
+the newcomer. "Cousins, I suppose. You can't be Professor Claghorn?"
+
+"I can be, and am, his son," laughed Leonard. "You are the third cousin
+I have found to-day."
+
+By this time the two elders had joined the party. Monsieur Claghorn had
+deemed it advisable, for his daughter's sake, to follow her footsteps.
+The Reverend Jared, accompanying him, heard Leonard's words. "A cousin!"
+he exclaimed, looking inquiringly at the stranger who made the claim,
+and ready gushingly to welcome him.
+
+"I think so," answered the stranger, smiling. "My father was Joseph
+Claghorn, of San Francisco."
+
+"He's your first cousin, 'Liph," exclaimed the Reverend Jared,
+hesitating no longer, but grasping the unoffered hand of the son of
+Joseph. Then he added in an awestruck voice, "You must be the owner of
+the Great Serpent?"
+
+"I am in its coils," replied the young man with a half sigh.
+
+"Wonderful!" ejaculated Jared, and then glibly plunged into a
+genealogical disquisition for the general benefit, the result of which
+was that Claghorn, the son of Joseph, and in the coils of the Great
+Serpent, stood demonstrated as the first cousin of Beverley, the second
+of Natalie, the third of himself and the fourth of Leonard. The
+professorial fluency had the good effect of creating enough hilarity to
+dissipate constraint; and its cordiality embraced all present in a
+circle of amity, whether they would or not.
+
+But there was no indication of reluctance to cousinly recognition.
+Monsieur saw sufficient comedy in the situation to amuse him, nor was he
+oblivious of the fascinations of the Great Serpent, which reptile was a
+mine, known by repute to all present, and the source of Monsieur's
+wealth, for that inheritance that had changed the course of his life had
+been thence derived. The dead brother of the now dead Eliphalet had left
+his share of the mine to Joseph, his partner, but had divided his
+savings between Eliphalet and a sister, Achsah by name. The son of
+Joseph, and owner of the Great Serpent, must be in the eyes of anybody
+the acceptable person he was in the eyes of Monsieur Claghorn, the more
+so as he was thoroughly presentable, being handsome, well dressed, and
+with rather more of the air of a man of the world than was usual in one
+of his years, which might be twenty-one.
+
+"We have not learned your Christian name," said Jared, after
+acquaintance had been established and the youth had been duly informed
+of much family history. "I hope your parents named you Eliphalet,"
+glancing, not without reproach, at the actual owner of that appellation.
+
+"They spared me that infliction," answered the newcomer, laughing,
+"though they hit me pretty hard. My name is Mark"; then, perhaps noting
+the faint flush upon the cheek of one of the members of the group, "I
+beg pardon; I should have been more respectful of a respectable family
+name, which may be borne by some one of you."
+
+"Nobody bears it; you are to be congratulated," observed Monsieur
+firmly. The Reverend Jared looked grieved, but said nothing.
+
+Mark Claghorn informed his auditors--there was no escaping the
+examination of the Professor--that he was a student at Heidelberg, that
+his mother sojourned there with him, that she was a widow, with an
+adopted daughter, a distant connexion, named Paula; and having learned
+that the entire party was bound for that city he expressed the hope that
+all these wandering offshoots of the Claghorn family might there meet
+and become better acquainted.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+THE DIVERSIONS OF THE CLAGHORNS.
+
+
+A good-humored widow, fair, and if mature, not old, and with the
+allurement of the possession of boundless wealth; two lovely maids; a
+brace of well-disposed young men, of whom one was strikingly beautiful
+and guileless, the other less comely as less innocent, yet in these
+respects not deficient, and the heir of millions; finally, a genial
+theologian and a philosopher, summer and Heidelberg--given these
+components and it must be confessed that the impromptu reunion of the
+Claghorns promised present enjoyment and gratifying memories for the
+future. The various members of the clan acted as if they so believed and
+were content. There were moments, indeed, when the genial Jared was
+moved to bewail the absence of Miss Achsah Claghorn, as being the only
+notable member of the family not present. The philosopher admitted a
+youthful acquaintance with the lady in question, who was his aunt, and
+echoed the Professor's eulogy, but evinced resignation. To the others,
+except to Leonard, who had evidently been taught to revere Miss Achsah,
+she was personally unknown, hence the loss occasioned by her absence was
+by them unfelt.
+
+"She is greatly exercised just now," observed Jared, "by an event which
+possesses interest for all of us, and which ought to especially interest
+you, 'Liph."
+
+"Salvation for the heathen by means of moral pocket handkerchiefs?"
+drawled the philosopher, secretly annoyed by the clergyman's persistent
+use of his discarded Christian name.
+
+"_She_ says a sacrilegious scheme; nothing short of the desecration of
+your namesake's grave," retorted the Professor.
+
+The party was grouped on the great terrace of the castle, against the
+balustrade of which the clergyman leaned as he addressed his audience
+with somewhat of the air of a lecturer, an aspect which was emphasized
+by his use of a letter which he had drawn from his pocket, and to which
+he pointed with his long forefinger.
+
+"You are all doubtless aware," he observed, "that Miss Achsah is the
+sister of the late Reverend Eliphalet Claghorn, father of our cousin and
+friend here present" (indicating Monsieur, who bowed to the speaker),
+"and, as the sister of your deceased husband, Mrs. Joseph, she is your
+sister-in-law."
+
+The lady smilingly assented to a proposition indisputable, and which
+probably contained no element of novelty to her; while Jared informed
+Mark and Natalie that the writer of the letter in his hand was aunt to
+the youth and great-aunt to the maiden. "She is also cousin to me, and
+in a further remove to Leonard," and having thus defined the status of
+Miss Claghorn, he proceeded to explain that he had reminded his hearers
+of the facts for the reason that the matter concerning which the lady's
+letter treated was of interest to all present, "except to you, my dear,"
+he added sympathizingly to Paula, "you not being a Claghorn."
+
+"We compassionate you, Mademoiselle," observed the philosopher to the
+damsel, "and I am sure," he added in a lower tone, "you are sorry for
+us." To which, Paula, who did not quite understand the philosopher,
+responded only with a smile and a blush.
+
+"Miss Achsah's letter," continued the Professor, ignoring the by-play,
+and addressing Mrs. Joe, is dated two months since, and runs thus:
+
+"'I wrote in my last of the strange events taking place in Easthampton.
+At that time there were only rumors; now there are facts to go upon. The
+tract given by our ancestor to the Lord is at this moment the property
+of a New York lawyer. You know that I long ago tried to buy the tomb and
+was refused. The trustees assure me that it will not be desecrated, that
+the purchaser promised of his own accord that the sacred dust should not
+be disturbed. I told them that they might advantageously take lessons in
+reverence from the lawyer, so there is a coolness between the trustees
+and myself.' (I am really very sorry for that," muttered the reader
+parenthetically)----
+
+"As I understand," interrupted Mrs. Joe, "the land was owned by the
+Seminary, and the Seminary which is now in Hampton was to have been
+built upon it. Is that what my sister-in-law means by saying it was
+given to the Lord?"
+
+"Her view is not exactly correct," replied the Professor. "I am myself
+one of the trustees. Possibly, Eliphalet Claghorn hoped that the
+Seminary would eventually be erected upon the land he gave toward its
+foundation. Evidently his successors, the fathers of the church,
+preferred Hampton to Easthampton."
+
+"In those days Easthampton was a busy mart of trade--they _do_ say the
+slave trade," observed the philosopher. "Hampton, as a secluded village,
+not liable to incursions of enslaved heathen, godless sailors or godly
+traders, was better fitted for pious and scholastic meditation, and----"
+
+"Now the conditions are reversed," interrupted Jared; "Hampton is a
+considerable city, Easthampton a quiet suburb."
+
+"Does Miss Achsah say what the lawyer intends to do with his purchase?"
+asked Mrs. Joe.
+
+"No doubt he represents a concealed principal," suggested the
+philosopher, "probably a rival institution--a Jesuit College."
+
+Jared turned pale. "You don't really suppose, 'Liph--but, no! I am sure
+my co-trustees could not be taken in."
+
+Mrs. Joe cast a reproachful glance at the philosopher. "Miss Achsah
+would surely have detected a Jesuit plot had there been one," she
+observed encouragingly. "But why is she so indignant?"
+
+"She has long wanted to purchase the ground about the tomb," replied
+Jared. "Naturally, she feels aggrieved that it will come into the hands
+of a stranger. The trustees, to my knowledge, tried to retain it, with
+the rest of the waste ground, and to sell only the old wharves and
+houses, but the lawyer insisted; in fact, paid a high price for the
+waste land which includes the grave."
+
+"Mysterious, if not Jesuitical," murmured Beverley; but the clergyman
+affected not to hear.
+
+"Has Miss Achsah no knowledge of the intentions of the purchaser?" asked
+the lady.
+
+"This is what she says," answered the Professor, consulting the letter:
+
+"'The trustees conceal the purpose for which the land is wanted, but I
+forced the information from Hacket when I informed him that, if I so
+desired, I could give the management of my affairs to young Burley. At
+this, Mr. Hacket came down from his high horse and informed me in
+confidence that the lawyer is to build a grand residence at the Point,
+and will spend an immense amount of money. All of which is not
+reassuring, if true. Although the place has been shamefully neglected, I
+was always glad to know that the Tomb was there, solitary amid the
+crags; only the sea-roar breaking the silence. I suppose there will be
+other sounds now, not so pleasant to think about.'"
+
+"Well," observed Mrs. Joe, after a pause, "let us hope that Miss Achsah
+will be reconciled after the lawyer's plans are more fully developed. He
+seems to be willing to respect the tomb."
+
+"What is this tomb?" asked Natalie.
+
+"The Tomb of Eliphalet Claghorn, the first of your race in the New
+World," explained the Professor reverently, and not without a
+reproachful glance at the philosopher, who had too evidently left his
+daughter in ignorance of much family history.
+
+"He came over in the Mayflower," observed Leonard in a low tone to
+Natalie; and then, to his surprise, found it necessary to explain his
+explanation, for which purpose, in company with the girl he strolled
+away.
+
+They paused at a little distance, and leaning upon the stone balustrade,
+looked down upon the town or at the plain beyond, or across the Neckar
+at the hills of the Philosophenweg. Here Leonard told his foreign cousin
+the story of the first Eliphalet.
+
+"A strange story," was her comment.
+
+"A noble story," he corrected.
+
+"All sacrifice is noble. I know a woman in extreme poverty who gave ten
+francs to regild a tawdry statue of the Virgin."
+
+"Deplorable!" exclaimed Leonard severely.
+
+"Pitiful, rather. Consider what the sum was to her! The needs she
+sacrificed--and for what?"
+
+"Sacrifice wasted, and degradingly wasted."
+
+"Wasted, doubtless; but why degradingly?"
+
+"Granted that your poor woman was sincere"--which, however, the speaker
+seemed to grant but grudgingly--"the sacrifice was still degrading in
+that it was made to superstition."
+
+She smiled. "What would my poor woman say of Grandfather Eliphalet?"
+
+"It's a question, you see, of the point of view," observed Mark, who had
+sauntered to where they stood.
+
+"It's a question of truth and falsehood," retorted Leonard a little
+stiffly, and not best pleased with the interruption of the tête-à-tête.
+
+"Do you know the truth?"
+
+"God is truth."
+
+"A truly theological elucidation," said Mark.
+
+"What do you say, Cousin Natalie?" asked Leonard wistfully.
+
+She had been gazing across the plain at the towers of Ladenburg,
+gleaming in the glow of the setting sun. "Can anybody say?" she
+answered. "Look at the plain," she added, stretching forth her hand,
+"these battered walls, the city at our feet. How often have they been
+scorched by fire and soaked in blood; and always in the cause of that
+truth which so many said was false!"
+
+"Rather, because of the schemes of ambitious men," said Leonard.
+
+"The pretext was always religion. Priests always the instigators of the
+wars," said Mark.
+
+"Priests, yes, I grant you----"
+
+"I include those of the Reformation. The bloodiest history of this place
+is its history since the Reformation. The source of its horrors was
+religion, always religion."
+
+"For which reason," retorted Leonard, "you would blame religion, rather
+than the men who made it a cloak to ambition."
+
+"One asks: What is religion?" said Natalie. "Catholics say of Frederick,
+who reigned here, that he was led by ambition to his fall; Protestants,
+that he fell a glorious sacrifice in the cause of truth. Who shall
+judge?"
+
+"False ideas of duty lead to perdition," said Leonard sententiously.
+
+"Which would seem to demonstrate that Frederick was in the wrong,"
+observed Mark. "That may be so, but it hardly lies in the mouth of a
+student of Hampton."
+
+"Of course, I know that Frederick was the Protestant champion," said
+Leonard, annoyed; "but----"
+
+"Yet he lost his cause! How can one know--how do you know the truth?"
+The girl looked up with an eager expression as she asked the question.
+
+"I know because I feel it," he answered in a low tone. They were solemn
+words to him, and as he uttered them a longing to show truth to this
+fair maid arose within him.
+
+"And if one does not know, one cannot feel," murmured Natalie sadly.
+"Catholics, Jews, Protestants, all feel and all know----"
+
+"That the others are all wrong," interjected Mark.
+
+Meanwhile, the others of the party were approaching, the Professor
+expatiating to Paula anent the glories of the Claghorn race; not such
+glories, as he pointed out, as those of which they saw the evidences in
+the effigies of warriors and carved armorial bearings; but higher
+glories, humble deeds on earth, of which the story illuminated the
+celestial record. The dissertation had been commenced for the general
+weal, but the widow and the philosopher had gradually dropped behind,
+leaving Paula alone to derive benefit from the lessons drawn by Cousin
+Jared from the Claghorn history as contrasted with that of the rulers of
+the Palatinate.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+HOW A PAGAN PHILOSOPHER ENTERED THE SERVICE OF THE CHURCH.
+
+
+"I fear you do not sympathize with Miss Achsah," observed the widow to
+her companion.
+
+"In her solicitude for the tomb of Grandfather Eliphalet? No. Reverence
+for my ancestor has diminished with age; my excellent aunt, as befits a
+lady, remains ever young and romantic."
+
+"She ought to appreciate the lawyer's declared intention to respect the
+grave."
+
+"Handsome of the lawyer, who, _du reste_, seems an anomaly."
+
+"How so?"
+
+"He pays an extravagant price for a dreary desert. He volunteers to keep
+a stranger's tomb in repair----"
+
+"Suppose I were to tell you that I am the lawyer who is to build the
+handsome residence."
+
+"I should feel honored by your confidence, and unreservedly put my trust
+in your motives, because they are yours."
+
+"But you are not surprised?"
+
+"Rather deeply interested, and no less solicitous."
+
+"Why solicitous?"
+
+"Because of the incongruity you present as a resident of Easthampton.
+That little town is not merely the sepulchre of Eliphalet Claghorn, but
+the grave of mirth and the social graces. Can I contemplate the
+possibility of your interment without sorrow?"
+
+The gentleman's tone had lapsed into tenderness; the lady smiled. "I
+believe you have not seen the place for many years," she said.
+
+"Nothing has prevented my doing so except my recollection of its
+attractions."
+
+"The ground I intend for a residence," said the lady, "has great
+natural advantages. It faces the ocean, has noble trees----"
+
+"And crags and boulders, a most desolate spot."
+
+"Which a handsome house will adorn and make beautiful. We must live
+somewhere. If we leave California, what better place can we choose than
+the old home of my son's race, where his name has been honored for
+generations? In that region he will not be a new man."
+
+"An old one, assuredly, if he remains there. But he will flee from the
+home of his ancestors. The place is sunk in somnolence; one of those
+country towns that the world has been glad to forget. Rotting wharves, a
+few tumbledown warehouses, and three or four streets, shaded by trees so
+big that even the white houses with their green blinds look gloomy."
+
+"The wharves and warehouses are mine, and are to be pulled down. I like
+the shady streets and the white houses."
+
+"And their inmates?" The philosopher shuddered.
+
+"The Claghorn paragon, Miss Achsah, lives in one of them."
+
+"Ah, Miss Achsah! You do not know Miss Achsah; she superintended my
+boyhood."
+
+"The result is a tribute to her excellence."
+
+The gentleman bowed. "She is a good woman--the personification of Roman
+virtue, adorned with the graces of Calvinism--but, my dear Cousin" (the
+lady was his aunt, if anything), "I put it to you. Is not personified
+virtue most admirable at a distance?"
+
+The lady laughed. "Possibly. But I do not expect to be reduced to
+virtuous society only, even if I am fortunate enough to prove acceptable
+in the eyes of Miss Claghorn. Our Professor assures me that the Hampton
+circle is most agreeable; and Hampton and Easthampton are practically
+one."
+
+"And what a one!" The philosopher shrugged his shoulders in true Gallic
+fashion. "Madame, Hampton is the home of theology--and such theology! It
+is filled with musty professors, their musty wives and awkward and
+conceited boys, in training to become awkward and conceited men.
+Remember, I was one of the horde and know whereof I speak. Think
+seriously, my dear Cousin, before you expose so beautiful a girl as
+Mademoiselle Paula, not to speak of yourself, to such an environment."
+
+The lady remained unmoved, though the gentleman had pleaded eloquently.
+"You are prejudiced," she answered. "Confess that there is no more
+agreeable man than our Cousin Jared; and if his son is a fair specimen
+of Hampton students, they must compare favorably with any others."
+
+"Which would not be saying much. Jared is, doubtless, a good fellow,
+amenable once, but now encrusted with frightfully narrow views. As to
+young Leonard, his extraordinary good looks and amiability render him
+exceptional. It is really a pity that he can't be rescued," and the
+speaker sighed.
+
+A sigh born of a sincere sentiment. Monsieur was at bottom good-natured,
+and it affected him disagreeably to see unusual graces doomed to a
+pulpit or a professorial chair. It was a sad waste of advantages fitted
+for better things. To dedicate to Heaven charms so apt for the world,
+seemed to him foolish, and to the devotee unfair. He felt as may feel a
+generous beauty whose day is past, and who contemplates some blooming
+maid about to enter a nunnery. "Ah! _Si la jeunesse savait_," he
+murmured.
+
+"You will not resolve without deliberation," he pleaded, having rendered
+to Leonard's fate the passing tribute of a sigh. "I dare not venture to
+beg you to wait until after your winter in Paris, but----"
+
+"But, Monsieur, my resolve is fixed, though known only to you. Work is
+already commenced. But I must request you to keep the secret from all,
+including my son. I wish to surprise him."
+
+"Your success is certain. It would be presumptuous to further combat
+your plans; especially"--with a graceful inclination--"since you disarm
+me by honoring me with your confidence."
+
+"I have a reason for that," she said frankly. "I want your aid."
+
+"In self-immolation! Even in that I am at your service."
+
+"My purpose can be explained in a few words," she said, indicating a
+chair near the balustrade, into which the philosopher gracefully sank,
+after bowing the lady into one beside it. "I wish to build a grand
+house. My son's importance in the world is an attribute of his wealth.
+This is not a fact to flaunt, but is to be considered, and one by which
+I am bound to be influenced in contemplating his future."
+
+"A great aid, Madame, in right conduct."
+
+"My son will find it a great responsibility."
+
+"Inheriting, as he does, your sense of duty," suggested the philosopher.
+
+"Precisely. Now, I have planned a career for Mark."
+
+There was a faint movement as of a fleeting smile behind Monsieur's
+well-trimmed moustache. The sharp-eyed lady noticed it, but was not
+disconcerted.
+
+"I recognize the possibility of my plans coming to naught," she said.
+"That need not prevent my attempt to realize them. I see but one career
+open to my son; he must become a statesman."
+
+"In Easthampton?"
+
+"In the United States. It is his country. Pardon me," seeing him about
+to interpose. "It is not on this point I ask the aid you are willing to
+accord. That refers to my contemplated operations in Easthampton. It
+happens, however, that my son's future will depend, in no small measure,
+upon the enterprises in question. His great need will be identification
+with local interests, to which end a fixed habitation is necessary. I
+wish to build a house which will attract attention. To put it bluntly, I
+intend to advertise my son by means of my house."
+
+"You will extort the sympathetic admiration of your compatriots."
+
+"I shall not be as frank with them as with you. You will know that mere
+display is not my object."
+
+"Yours merits admiration, even while it extorts regret."
+
+"And now you see why Easthampton is peculiarly adapted to the end in
+view. No man can point to Mark Claghorn and ask, 'Who is he?' His name
+was carved in that region two centuries since."
+
+"But you and your son are, I believe, liberal in your religious views.
+The Claghorns----"
+
+"Have always kept the faith--with one notable exception"--the
+philosopher bowed acceptance of the compliment--"but I object to being
+called liberal, as you define the term; we are Catholics, that is to
+say, Anglicans."
+
+"Humph!" muttered the philosopher dubiously.
+
+"And I intend," pursued the lady, "to proclaim my creed by an act which
+I know is daring, but which will have the advantage of rooting my son
+and his descendants in the soil of Easthampton. I intend to build, to
+the memory of my husband, a High-Church chapel, a work of art that shall
+be unequalled in the country."
+
+"Daring, indeed! Rash----"
+
+"Not rash; but were it so, I should still do that which I have planned.
+My husband longed to return to the home of his boyhood, had fully
+resolved on purchasing the Seminary tract. He shall sleep where his
+ancestor sleeps." She turned her head to conceal a tear; the philosopher
+turned his to conceal a smile.
+
+"In this pious and appropriate design, my dear Cousin," he murmured----
+
+"I shall have your sympathy; I was sure of it. I want more; I want your
+aid."
+
+In view of its wealthy source the suggestion was not alarming. The
+gentleman promised it to the extent of his poor powers, intimating,
+however, that connubial fidelity might conflict with maternal ambition,
+a result which he deprecated as deplorable.
+
+Mrs. Joe had, she said, fully considered that possibility. "Suppose you
+are right," she answered to the philosopher's argument, "even if Hampton
+is the home of bigotry, boldness always commands sympathy. My chapel
+will lend importance to a town which mourns a lost prestige. It will be
+talked about from one end of the State to the other; and I intend that
+the Seminary shall be my right hand, the Church--my church, my left----"
+
+"And both hands full!"
+
+She blushed. "Of course, I shall use my advantages. The Seminary is the
+centre of much religious effort, which, as a Christian, I shall be glad
+to aid. It is the centre of influence, which I hope to share. Under my
+roof the representatives of differing creeds shall meet in harmony and
+acquire mutual respect. Should it happen that my son be politically
+objectionable because of my chapel--why, in such a condition of affairs
+the liberalism that is always latent where bigotry flourishes would
+spring to his aid, and find in him a leader."
+
+"Madame!" exclaimed the gentleman, "you will win."
+
+"I hope so," she replied, pleased at the admiration she had extorted.
+"And now, you shall be told how you can aid me. Paris is an art centre;
+there are to be found the people I shall need in regard to my plans
+concerning the chapel. I am resolved that this shall be so noble an
+edifice that the voice of detraction shall never be heard. Next winter
+we shall meet in Paris. Will you, so far as may be, prepare the way for
+my access to the places and people I desire to see?"
+
+"Assuredly. I shall enter upon the task assigned me with admiration for
+your plans and sincere devotion to your interests," Thus, with his hand
+upon his heart and with an inclination of true Parisian elegance, the
+philosopher entered the service of Mrs. Joe, and of the Church.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+ART, DIPLOMACY, LOVE AND OTHER THINGS.
+
+
+Thus in amity dwelt the Claghorns, employing the summer days in innocent
+diversion. Many were the expeditions to points of interest; to
+Neckarsteinach and the Robbers' Nest, to the village of Dilsberg,
+perched upon the peak which even the bold Tilly had found unconquerable
+in peasant hands; to Handschuhsheim, where sleeps the last of his race,
+the boy-lord slain in duel with the fierce Baron of Hirschhorn, who
+himself awaits the judgment in the crypt of St. Kilian, at Heilbronn,
+holding in his skeleton hand a scroll, telling how the Mother's Curse
+pursued him to where he lies; to the Black Forest, now so smiling, but
+which Cæsar found dark, cold and gloomy, with its later memories of
+ruthless knights whose monuments are the grim ruins that crown the
+vineclad hills, and with present lore of gnomes and brownies. In these
+simple pleasures youth and maiden, philosopher, theologian and worldly
+widow joined with the emotions befitting their years and
+characteristics. To Natalie it was a time of intense delight, shared
+sympathetically by Paula, but more serenely. Mark enjoyed keenly, yet
+with rare smiles and with an underlying seriousness in which an observer
+might have detected a trace of the trail of the Great Serpent. Leonard,
+seldom absent from the side of his French cousin, delighted in the novel
+scenes and the companionship, but at times was puzzled by Natalie's
+capacity to live in a past that, as he pointed out, was better dead,
+since in its worst aspect it had been a time of barbarism, in its best
+of fanaticism. He could not understand the longing and liking for a day
+when if knights were bold they were also boorish, when if damosels were
+fair they were also ignorant of books, and perchance of bathtubs. He
+stared in innocent wonder at Natalie's exclamation of deprecation and
+Mark's harsh laugh when he pointed out such undeniable facts. To him
+Hans von Handschuhsheim, lying dead upon the steps of the Church of the
+Holy Ghost, his yellow locks red with blood, and the fierce Hirschhorn
+wiping his blade as he turned his back upon his handiwork--to Leonard
+this was a drunken brawl of three centuries since, and it grieved him to
+see in Natalie a tendency to be interested in the "vulgar details of
+crime." He knew that the girl lived in the gloom of irreligion (he was
+not aware that she dwelt in the outer darkness of ignorance), and he
+sighed as he noted one result of her unhappy lack; and he never knelt at
+his bedside forgetful of the fact, or of his duty in relation thereto.
+
+As to the elders of the party, they enjoyed the present after the
+fashion of those whose days of dreaming have passed. Cousin Jared's
+broad smile of satisfaction was only absent when, in the heat of
+disputation, the philosopher was especially sacrilegious or aggravating,
+and even so, it was easily recalled by the tact of the widow, much of
+whose time was spent in keeping the peace between the two
+fellow-students of bygone years. As for the philosopher, he secretly
+pined for the Boulevard, though he, too, found distraction, one favorite
+amusement being to disturb the usual serenity of Paula by cynical
+witticisms, totally incomprehensible to the simple maiden.
+
+The day of separation came at length, the first to depart being the
+mature and the budding theologian. Adieux were interchanged at the
+railway station, and many hopes as to future meetings were expressed, as
+well as satisfaction that chance had brought about a reunion so
+unexpected. No doubt these expressions were sincere, yet it is possible
+that as to clergyman and philosopher, each recognized in secret that
+their real adieux had been uttered years before. Under the
+circumstances, and with Mrs. Joe as a new link, the old chain had
+served; but at heart the two were antagonists; the chain was worn out.
+
+"Not altogether a bad sort, Jared," observed M. Claghorn, as he walked
+from the station and by the side of Mrs. Joe along the Anlage.
+
+"A thoroughly good fellow."
+
+He smiled. It was faint praise. He said to himself complacently that
+she would not characterize himself as "a good fellow," whereas, the
+politician at his side, however she might have described her companion,
+regarded the departed Jared as of greater value to her plans, which had
+not been confided to him, than could be the philosopher in whom she had
+confided.
+
+The two girls and Mark, following their elders, also interchanged views
+concerning the travelers. The verdict as to Cousin Jared, though less
+irreverently expressed, was similar to that enunciated by the widow. The
+good-hearted theologian had won the regard of all.
+
+"And as for Leonard," observed Paula, "he is the handsomest boy I ever
+saw."
+
+"And as amiable as beautiful," averred Natalie.
+
+"As well as a little--shall we say 'verdant'?" suggested Mark. But the
+girls either denied the verdancy, or, if they admitted the charge in
+part, maintained it was an added excellence.
+
+Meanwhile, the travelers contemplated one another from opposite sides of
+their railway carriage, the consciousness of leaving a strange world and
+re-entering their old one already making itself felt. To the elder man
+the change was neither startling nor very painful, but to Leonard it was
+both. He did not try to analyze his feelings, but there was a dead
+weight at his heart, a sorrow heavier than the natural regret at
+parting. It was long before he spoke. "I am so glad that our cousin,
+Natalie, though French, is not Catholic," he said, at length.
+
+"I fear she is worse," was the answer.
+
+"What could be worse?"
+
+"Total unbelief," replied his father solemnly; and the weight at
+Leonard's heart grew heavier.
+
+During the short remainder of M. Claghorn's stay at Heidelberg--already
+prolonged far beyond the original intention--it was arranged that he
+should select for the widow suitable quarters for her winter
+establishment at Paris; and so willing was the gentleman to be of
+service, that, to his great satisfaction, he received _carte blanche_
+for the purpose, and, Natalie accompanying him, departed with the
+resolve that the owners of the Great Serpent should be lodged in
+accordance with the just demands of that magnificent reptile, having in
+view, among other aspirations, the dazzling of the House of Fleury by
+the brilliance of the House of Claghorn.
+
+As to those other aspirations, enough to say that they were by no means
+compatible with the loyalty he had professed for the pious plans of Mrs.
+Joe. He had not forgotten that the noble arms of the Marquise de Fleury
+were open to receive his daughter; but under existing conditions he was
+willing to be coy. He remembered with satisfaction that he had not
+irrevocably committed himself to a matrimonial alliance which still
+possessed attractions: though in the presence of the dazzling
+possibilities now offered, it behooved him to avoid precipitation. And
+so reasonable was this position that he did not hesitate to disclose it
+to the Marquise, simultaneously exculpating himself and assuaging the
+lady's resentment by dangling before her the glittering possibilities
+presented by Paula Lynford, whom he, with politic inaccuracy, described
+as the actual daughter of Mrs. Claghorn, hence inferentially a
+co-inheritor, with Mark, of the golden product of the Great Serpent.
+
+"_Tiens_, Adolphe!" exclaimed the lady to her son, after having listened
+to the entrancing tale told by the philosopher, "Heaven has heard my
+prayers," and she repeated the unctuous story.
+
+"Over a million of _dot_! It is monstrous, mama."
+
+"For these people a bagatelle. Their gold mine yields a thousand francs
+a minute."
+
+"These incredible Americans!"
+
+"There is also a son, one Marc, about your age----"
+
+"Aha, I see! M. Claghorn destines Natalie----"
+
+"Precisely."
+
+The little lieutenant wagged his head. It was the tribute to a dying
+love. From infancy he had been taught by his mama that in Natalie he
+beheld the future mother of the de Fleurys. Since infancy he had seen
+her but rarely, and on such occasions, being admonished by his mama, had
+concealed his passion from its object; but thus repressed, it had
+bubbled forth in other channels. He had written and declaimed sonnets;
+he had shed tears to a captured photograph of Natalie in pantalettes.
+The gusts of consuming passion which, in the presence of his _amis de
+college_, had swept sirocco-like across his soul, had extorted the sigh
+of envy and the tear of sympathy; from other friends, notably from
+Celestine, Claire and Annette, these manifestations had extorted shrieks
+of laughter, which, however, had moved him, not to indignation, but to
+pity, for in these damsels he saw but butterflies of love, unable to
+comprehend a _grande passion_.
+
+It was, then, not without a fitting and manly sigh that the Marquis de
+Fleury surrendered the love of his youth in obedience to his mama and
+the motto of his house, which was "Noblesse Oblige," and, having
+procured from Natalie a photograph of Paula, he did homage before it as
+to "_la belle Lanforre_" in person, besides altering an old sonnet which
+had already seen service, and finding that Lynford, or as he would have
+it, "Lanforre," rhymed sufficiently well with Amor.
+
+Meanwhile, the philosopher having diplomatically engaged the services of
+the Marquise, the noble lady proceeded to perform with zeal the task
+assigned her. _La belle France_, home of romance and last citadel of
+chivalry, is also business-like, and its sons and daughters of whatever
+rank are deft manipulators of the honest penny. In negotiating for the
+luxurious apartment of a diplomat about to proceed to Spain for a
+sojourn of some months, and in dealing with furnishers of all
+description, from laundry to livery men, the noble lady provided herself
+with pocket-money for some time to come; a seasonable relief to the
+over-strained resources of the House of Fleury.
+
+"_Tiens_," exclaimed Adolphe to his mama, Mrs. Claghorn being already
+installed in the diplomatic quarters, "this desire of Madame Zho to
+inspect churches--how do you explain it?"
+
+"She is _dévote_. Doubtless she has sinned. She wishes to erect in her
+own country an expiatory chapel."
+
+Which explanation, evolved from information derived from the
+philosopher, aided by the speaker's fancy, elucidated the mystery
+contained in the patronymic "Lanforre," borne by Paula. "_Sans doute_,"
+mused the Marquise, "_la mère_, being American, was _divorcée_. The
+daughter is the child of the first husband." Which theory sufficed
+until the later arrival of Mark, who, as being palpably older than
+Paula, drove the lady to evolve another, which, fortunately, in the
+interest of harmony, was not confided to "Madame Zho," but which not
+only explained, but demanded the expiatory chapel.
+
+Mrs. Claghorn threw herself into her pious work with a zeal which
+extorted the approbation of the Marquise, who, as we know, was herself a
+religious woman, but which to the philosopher was less admirable, since
+it interfered with deep-laid plans with which it was incompatible. He
+was somewhat consoled, however, by the fact that the lady's course
+facilitated an intimacy which was favorable to the realization of less
+secret hopes; wherefore he vied with the Marquise in forwarding the
+pious cause of the widow by surrounding that lady with an artistic host,
+whereof the members received comforting orders for plans and paintings,
+designs and drawings, and were refreshed by a golden shower whereof the
+Marquise had her quiet but legitimate share.
+
+The philosopher contented himself with the post of chief adviser and
+sole confidant of the beneficent lady. For, though her intention to
+erect a chapel could not be concealed, the locality of the realization
+of her plans remained a secret, and was, in fact, privately regarded by
+Mark,--where the philosopher hoped it would remain,--as poesy hath it,
+in the air.
+
+Meanwhile, the comparative freedom of intercourse which reigned among
+the younger members of the party was approved by the Marquise as an
+American custom sanctioned, under the circumstances, by heaven, as an
+aid in its answer to her prayers; but the little lieutenant, like a dog
+that has slipped its leash, was puzzled by an unaccustomed liberty, and
+found himself unable to conduct himself gracefully in a novel role. He
+knew that the joyous freedom befitting intercourse with Claire and
+Celestine was not the tone for present conditions, but for similar
+conditions he knew no other. If, after preliminary negotiation on the
+part of his elders, he had been introduced into the presence of the
+object of his love, himself clad _en frac_, and had found his adored
+robed in white and carefully disposed upon a fauteuil--with the
+properties thus arranged, he felt he could have borne himself worthily
+as one acceptable and with honorable intentions. But thus to be allowed
+to approach the object of a passion (which, he assured his mama, was now
+at a white heat), to converse familiarly, surrounding ears being
+inattentive and surrounding eyes uninterested; to be expected to
+interchange views freely pronounced by lips such as he had supposed were
+silent until unsealed by matrimony--these things puzzled and embarrassed
+him. Perhaps it was fortunate that such attempts as he made to tell his
+love were not understood by the object of his devotion. Paula's
+understanding of French, though it had achieved plaudits and prizes at
+school, did not suffice for the purpose, and the lieutenant was innocent
+of any modern language other than his own, while against his frequent
+efforts of an ocular character Paula's serenity was proof, though
+occasionally disturbed by the manifestations of that which she supposed
+was a severe nervous disorder of the eyes of her companion, and for
+which she pitied him; and, as to the sonnet which he slipped into her
+hand, it being beyond her construing powers, she handed it to Mrs. Joe,
+who read it and laughed.
+
+But though she laughed at a production designed to draw tears, but for
+it, she had probably paid little heed to an occurrence which about this
+time attracted her attention.
+
+She was in the Church of St. Roch, Paula at her side, and, near at hand,
+Mark and Natalie. St. Roch is an ancient and gloomy edifice, and the
+lady had found no suggestions for her chapel in its sombre interior. She
+turned to leave, when her attention was arrested by a tableau. Natalie's
+hand rested upon Mark's shoulder, and both stood as if transfixed, and
+gazing at something which Mrs. Joe could not see.
+
+Had it not been for the sonnet and the reflections to which it had given
+rise, she would have at once admitted the palpable fact that the girl,
+absorbed by that upon which she gazed, was oblivious of the touch with
+which she had involuntarily arrested the steps of her companion. With
+head bent forward, her faculties were enchained by that which she saw
+with eyes in which wonder, compassion and wistful yearning were
+combined.
+
+It was a young woman upon whom the girl's rapt gaze rested. She had been
+kneeling at the grating of a confessional from which the priest had just
+departed. A smothered cry, and the abandon with which the penitent had
+thrown herself upon the stone floor of the mural chapel, had attracted
+Natalie's attention, and unconsciously she had laid her hand on Mark's
+shoulder to arrest steps which might disturb that which, at first
+supposed to be devotion, was quickly recognized as the agony of grief.
+
+For a moment the observers thought the woman had fainted, so still she
+lay after that smothered cry, and Natalie had taken a step forward to
+lend aid, when a convulsive shudder shook the prostrate form, and then
+the woman rose to her knees. Dry-eyed, her long, black hair hanging in
+disorder, her white face and great, dark eyes gleaming from beneath
+heavy brows and long silken lashes, she knelt, holding high a photograph
+upon which she gazed, a living statue of woe.
+
+Mark was hardly less moved than Natalie, but more quickly remembered
+that he, at least, had no business with this sorrow. As he moved, the
+unconscious hand of his companion fell from his shoulder, and in the
+same moment the mourner rose and her eyes met Natalie's.
+
+Dignified by grief, she was a majestic woman, and handsome; probably
+handsomer in her disorder than under the aspect of every day. Perhaps
+she instantly read the sympathy in the eyes, no less beautiful than her
+own, which were turned upon her.
+
+"You suffer!" exclaimed Natalie involuntarily.
+
+"And you rejoice," replied the other, indicating Mark.
+
+"I have but this." She displayed the colored photograph she had held
+toward heaven. A startled exclamation broke from Mark, as he looked.
+
+"He is dead," said the woman. "To-day was to have been our wedding day,
+and he is dead." The tears welled up in the listeners' eyes; the speaker
+was tearless, but the silent sympathy impelled her to go on.
+
+"Three months we lived together," she continued, with Gallic frankness
+as to domestic details. "His father refused consent, but to-day, his
+birthday, he would have been free: he is dead. His mother pities me,"
+the woman went on. "She has known love. She promised consolation in
+confession--as if a priest could know!"
+
+"Yet they say that in religion," Natalie commenced timidly----
+
+"There is but one religion--Love!" interrupted the other. "You will
+know. He"--her glance indicated Mark--"will be your teacher."
+
+Mark glanced hastily at his cousin. She seemed oblivious of the woman's
+words. He moved further away. After awhile Natalie slowly followed; the
+woman left the church.
+
+"Did you notice," asked Mark, as Natalie rejoined him, "how strikingly
+that portrait resembled Leonard?"
+
+She made no answer. Other words than his were ringing in her ears:
+"There is but one religion--Love! He will be your teacher," and even
+while she sorrowed for the sorrow she had witnessed, a strange thrill
+passed through her--was it pain, was it joy?
+
+The party left the church. Natalie sought the side of Mrs. Joe, leaving
+Mark to walk with Paula. The elderly lady asked her who was the person
+with whom she had talked. Natalie replied that the woman's name was
+Berthe Lenoir, and that she wished to be the speaker's maid, and she
+narrated some part of the history that had been briefly told to her.
+
+"But, my dear," was the comment, "your father must make inquiry as to
+her fitness."
+
+"That, of course," was the answer, and then she was silent. Within a
+week Berthe Lenoir entered her service, a woman, who by reason of her
+capacity, soon gained the general approval; and for other reasons, the
+special approval of a lover of the beautiful. "Her eyes," observed the
+lieutenant, "are the eyes which shape destinies."
+
+Meanwhile, other eyes, belonging to one who believed it in her power to
+shape destinies, were watchful. Mrs. Joe had long since resolved that to
+be an American statesman, Mark needed an American wife, and since she
+had herself trained one for the position, she had no desire to see her
+labors rendered fruitless. It had needed merely the opening of her eyes
+to enable her to discern that there were other schemes worthy of her
+attention, besides that one of the philosopher, of which she herself was
+the object, and which, though the gentleman had supposed it hidden, had
+been patent to the lady, serving to amuse while it benefited her. She
+promptly averted the danger to her plans by confiding to the Marquise
+her intentions with regard to Mark and Paula. The noble lady regarded
+such matters as entirely controllable by parental edict, and at once
+resumed negotiations with the philosopher, who, in the belief that
+surrender of his hopes in regard to his daughter would tend to further
+those he cherished in respect to himself, acquiesced gracefully in the
+inevitable; and there being no ground for further delay, the de
+Fleury-Claghorn treaty was duly ratified, to remain, however, a secret
+for the present from all the juniors of the party, except from the
+lieutenant, whom it was necessary to inform of the need of a
+re-transference of his affections. He submitted with sorrow. The charms
+of Paula had, as he confided to his mama, made an impression on his
+heart which only active service could efface. As to resisting destiny,
+it never entered his thoughts. Paula was for Mark, Natalie for him.
+There might be consolation. "With such wealth," he suggested, "they will
+surely add to her dowry."
+
+"Let us hope so," replied the Marquise. "Our Cousin Beverley will do
+what is possible. Meanwhile, be as charming as possible to Madame Zho
+and to Marc, who will have it all."
+
+"Such luck is iniquitous! Well, since my marriage is deferred, you will
+consent that I go to Africa. Love is denied me; I must seek glory.
+_Tiens, je suis Francais!_"
+
+Long before this, Mrs. Joe had exacted from Mark a promise to study at
+the University with reasonable diligence. The promise had been kept. A
+new semester was about to commence; he was anxious to take the doctoral
+degree, hence it was necessary for him to return to Heidelberg. He
+hardly regretted it. Of late, constraint had seemed to pervade the
+intercourse which had been hitherto so unrestrained, and, above all,
+Natalie had been unusually reserved. It was not without some regret that
+he departed, yet on the whole content to return to _Burschenfreiheit_
+and fidelity to the creed whose chief article is disdain of
+philistinism.
+
+Mrs. Joe was glad to see him depart before she left for America, where
+the surprise intended for him was progressing. But it might take more
+time to build a house than make a Doctor of Civil Law; the question was
+how to prevent his premature home-coming.
+
+"I will keep him," said the philosopher, in answer to her confidence as
+to her misgivings. "He has promised to visit me when he leaves the
+University. When I get him I will hold him."
+
+The lady looked at the gentleman questioningly.
+
+"Do not doubt my good faith," he murmured.
+
+"And you will come with him to America," she suggested. "Perhaps you can
+induce the Marquise. And the little soldier--surely, he will brave the
+seas if your daughter does so!"
+
+"An invasion by the Gauls. Why not? I for one shall be enchanted to see
+the result of your energy and taste."
+
+"And Natalie shall see the Tomb in which she is so deeply interested,
+while you lay your homage at the feet of Miss Achsah and so fulfill a
+long-neglected duty."
+
+"And at the feet of the chatelaine of Stormpoint. I am impatient for the
+day." And it was so arranged, and the lady, declining the proffered
+escort of Monsieur, left Paris for Havre, accompanied by Paula.
+
+"A good fellow!" she thought, as she leaned back in the coupé, applying
+to the philosopher that very term which he had flattered himself she
+would not apply, "but too anxious to believe that I am his cousin and
+not his aunt."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+A CONFERENCE OF SPINSTERS CONCERNING A RUNAWAY DAMSEL.
+
+
+Five years have passed since the Claghorn reunion at Heidelberg. The
+Professor and philosopher have journeyed to that world concerning which
+one of the two claimed certain knowledge, and which the other regarded
+as unknowable. Thither we cannot follow them, but since men do not live
+for a day, but for all time, we shall doubtless come upon indications
+that the lives of these two, the things they said and did, are forces
+still. Meanwhile, we must concern ourselves with the living, and of
+those with whom we have to do, no one is more noteworthy than Achsah
+Claghorn.
+
+Miss Claghorn was, as the representative of an ancient and very
+theological family, a citizen of no little note in Easthampton, the
+shady and quiet suburb of the city of Hampton. Her spotless white house
+was large; its grounds were, compared with those of her neighbors,
+large; the trees in the grounds were very large; the box-plants were
+huge of their kind. Miss Achsah herself was small, but by reason of her
+manner, which was positive and uncompromising, impressive. She lived as
+became her wealth and position, comfortably and without undue regard for
+conventionalities. She could afford so to live and had been able to
+afford it for many years; ever since she had shared with her brother,
+the Reverend Eliphalet, the bounty left to them by that other and
+younger brother who had died in California. On the receipt of that
+bounty she had retired from her position as schoolmistress, had bought
+the large, white house, and, together with Tabitha Cone, had undertaken
+to live as she pleased, succeeding in so doing more satisfactorily than
+is usual with those fortunate enough to be able to make similar
+resolves. Perhaps this was because her desires were more easily
+attainable than the desires pertaining to such conditions usually are.
+
+The position of Tabitha Cone was nominally one of dependence, but, with
+a praiseworthy desire to rise superior to such a status, Tabitha
+persistently strove to rule her benefactress, which attempts were met
+with frequent rebellion. Miss Achsah was, at least intermittently,
+mistress of her own house; and both ladies had a lurking consciousness
+that she, Achsah, to wit, had reserves of strength which would enable
+her to become so permanently, if she were to develop a serious intention
+to that end. Both ladies, however, shrank from a struggle with that
+possible termination, much enjoying life as they lived it, and with no
+desire to terminate an invigorating and pleasing warfare.
+
+For the rest, Miss Claghorn permitted no slurs to be cast upon her
+companion, except such as she herself chose to project. "Tabitha Cone
+and I sat on the same bench at school; together we found the Lord. I
+knew of no difference between us in those days; I know of none now,
+except that I had a rich brother."
+
+"I am sure, Miss Claghorn, I quite agree with your view," observed
+Paula, to whom the words were addressed.
+
+"Which I hope is a satisfaction to you," replied the lady, her manner
+indicating complete indifference as to the fact. "If that is so, why do
+you object to my consulting Tabitha Cone about this letter?" looking
+over her spectacles at the pretty face.
+
+"I hoped that my plan would meet your views, and then such consultation
+would perhaps be unnecessary, and--and----"
+
+"And?" echoed Miss Achsah in an uncompromising tone, and regarding her
+visitor still more sharply.
+
+"You know, Miss Claghorn, you sent for me, and were kind enough to say
+you desired my advice----"
+
+"Information, not advice."
+
+"Don't you think Tabitha Cone will derive a wrong impression if she
+reads that letter?" continued the persistent Paula, "Is that quite
+fair?"
+
+"Tabitha Cone understands English--even Ellis Winter's--he says plainly
+enough that the girl is an atheist----"
+
+"Not that, Miss----"
+
+"A heathen, then--a damned soul" (Paula started palpably). "Splitting
+hairs about terms don't alter the essential fact."
+
+"Nobody can deplore the truth more than I; but to risk its being made a
+subject of gossip----"
+
+"Tabitha Cone is not given to tattle. She may gossip with Almighty God
+about this matter. She has known Him for many years."
+
+Paula shuddered. To know Omnipotence in this blunt fashion grated on her
+nerves. "I have humbled myself many times and sought her eternal welfare
+in prayer," she said.
+
+"I hope your condescension may ultimately benefit her," snapped the old
+lady. "I can't say I have noticed any change, certainly no change for
+the better."
+
+"I referred to Natalie."
+
+"Oh, and so that is the way to pronounce the outlandish name. My nephew
+Eliphalet's mother's name was Susan; my own name has been in the family
+two hundred years--well, and if Ellis Winter is right, your humblings
+seem to have done but little good. Perhaps those of the despised Tabitha
+Cone may have more effect, even if unaccompanied with flummery----"
+
+"Miss Claghorn, you are not generally unjust."
+
+"Never. But I get tired of millinery in religion. Ah! if only you would
+humble yourself--but there! I suppose you intone the prayer for your
+daily bread. Pah!"
+
+Paula rose majestically.
+
+"Sit down, child; I didn't mean to offend you. (The Lord has infinite
+patience and pity, and so for imbeciles, I suppose)" she said
+parenthetically and in a subdued tone, which was not heard by the
+visitor, who sat down, having an object in being both meek and
+persistent, a fact of which Miss Claghorn was aware. It was a sore
+temptation to let Paula have her wish, but, all the while she knew she
+must finally resolve to do her duty. It was that knowledge which gave
+acrimony to her speech.
+
+"Paula," she said, "I ought not to have asked you to come here about
+this matter. I knew what you would desire and hoped you would be able to
+persuade me; I ought to have known myself better. I must do my duty; she
+must come to me."
+
+"But, dear Miss Claghorn----"
+
+"She is a Claghorn, and--dreadful as it is--a heathen as well, and alone
+in the world. I must do my duty; it is not easy, I assure you."
+
+Paula quite believed this, and the belief did not add to her hope of
+success. When Miss Claghorn desired to do things which, in the eyes of
+others, were better left undone, she was apt to see her duty in such
+action. It was equally true that her duty being visible, she would do
+it, even if disagreeable. But the duty now before her was, for many
+reasons, very disagreeable, indeed, and strictly just as she was, she
+was but human, and the righteous indignation she felt for her own
+vacillation fell naturally in part upon Paula.
+
+"At least do not let that letter prejudice you," urged Paula. "She is a
+sweet girl, as good as gold."
+
+"Very likely. Gold is dross. Good girls do not deny their Maker."
+
+This was indisputable. Paula sighed. "I am very sorry we cannot have
+her," was all she said.
+
+Miss Claghorn looked at her thoughtfully and with some inward qualms at
+her own harshness. There was an opportunity to seasonably drop a word
+which for some time she had been considering as ready to be dropped, and
+which, if heeded, might have some consolation for the girl before her.
+
+"You can have her--on one condition. Come now, Paula!"
+
+"What is that?" asked the girl, hope in her eyes; some misgiving, too,
+for there was that in Miss Claghorn's expression which aroused it.
+
+"Stop your shilly-shally with that little milliner-man, Arthur Cameril,
+and marry him. Then Natalie can pay you a good long visit."
+
+This was more than a Christian ought to bear. Paula could do her duty,
+too.
+
+"Miss Claghorn, Father Cameril has taken the vow of celibacy. The fact
+is well known. I am contemplating the same. I wish you good-morning,"
+and so Paula majestically sailed away.
+
+"Hoity-toity!" exclaimed Miss Achsah, as her visitor let herself out of
+the front door; and then, not disturbed, but in the belief that she had
+performed another disagreeable duty, she commenced the re-perusal of a
+letter in her hand. Which letter was as follows:
+
+     "Dear Miss Claghorn--Your grand-niece, Natalie, has arrived in
+     this country. She naturally at once communicated with me, and I
+     find her situation somewhat perplexing. To speak frankly, she
+     has run away from home. It was her father's wish that she
+     remain in the household of the Marquise de Fleury, and she has
+     lived with that lady since Mr. Claghorn's death. But it seems
+     that for some time past the guardian has tried to induce the
+     ward to marry against her inclinations.
+
+     "I think there can be no doubt that the influences brought to
+     bear on your grand-niece amounted to persecution, and I am
+     disposed to regard her action as justified, having received
+     from the Marquise (who was apprised of her destination by your
+     niece) a letter, written in such a tone as to leave no doubt in
+     my mind that the statements made to me by Miss Natalie are
+     correct.
+
+     "The plan of your grand-niece is to live independently in this
+     country. For the present this would be most imprudent. She is
+     very young, and though by no means inexperienced in the ways of
+     the world, is very foreign. She is quite resolute in her
+     determination, and is aware that her property, in my charge,
+     aside from some French possessions, is ample for her support.
+     Do not gather that she is not amenable to advice, or is
+     inclined to be obstinate. This is not the case, but she has
+     evidently had an unpleasant experience of guardianship, and is
+     quite resolved under no circumstances to permit any disposition
+     of herself matrimonially. This resolve is the foundation of her
+     intention to remain independent, an intention which no doubt
+     will be easily combated with her advance in knowledge of our
+     American customs in this regard.
+
+     "It would be unfair, having shown you the only shadows
+     connected with Beverley's daughter, were I to withhold the
+     commendation justly due her. With such acquaintance as I had
+     formed with her on the occasion of my visit to France, I
+     gathered a good opinion of one whom, indeed, I only knew as a
+     child. That opinion has been strengthened by occasional
+     correspondence and by the personal observation of the last
+     fortnight. She seems to be a charming girl, remarkably
+     beautiful, with a mind of her own, and, doubtless, a will of
+     her own; nevertheless, a person that would be an acquisition in
+     any household. Were I blessed with a domestic circle, I should
+     be well content to have Miss Natalie enter it; but, as you
+     know, I am not so fortunate.
+
+     "I hesitate to mention one other detail, yet feel that you
+     ought to be fully informed; and while I can, believe me,
+     appreciate the standpoint from which you will regard that which
+     I have to disclose, I beg you to take a charitable view of a
+     matter which, to one of your rooted and cherished convictions,
+     will be of transcendent importance. It is that your grand-niece
+     is in religion a free-thinker, and rejects the Christian faith.
+
+     "To you, as the representative of the Claghorn family, a family
+     which for generations has upheld the standard of purest
+     orthodoxy, this information will come as a shock. Yet when I
+     assure you that Miss Natalie's views (such as they are) are
+     probably held rather from a sense of filial duty and affection
+     than from conviction, the facts will, I am sure, appeal to your
+     compassion, as well as to that stern sense of duty and justice
+     so admirably exhibited in your life. For many years I have been
+     aware that the late Beverley had trained his daughter in
+     accordance with a theory which repudiated tenets sacred in your
+     eyes. My only reason for never imparting the fact to you was
+     because the knowledge could only be a grief to one who held the
+     Claghorn traditions in reverence. The interest you occasionally
+     displayed concerning one who had chosen to be an exile was, I
+     believe, always satisfied as far as in my power, except as to
+     this one particular. I regret now that I withheld a knowledge
+     which circumstances have made important. I did wrong, but I
+     need not ask you not to connect my wrong-doing with the claims
+     of your grand-niece.
+
+     "Kindly consider this letter carefully and let me hear from you
+     soon. Perhaps an invitation to spend a part or all of the
+     coming summer with you would lead to an easy solution of the
+     difficulties presented. Your grand-niece is at present staying
+     with my friend, Mrs. Leon, who will be pleased that she remain;
+     but I foresee that the young lady herself will object to that.
+
+     "With regards to Miss Cone, believe me,
+
+     "Respectfully yours, ELLIS WINTER."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+A MAIDEN FAIR, A MODERN EARLY FATHER AND A THEOLOGIAN.
+
+
+Paula emerged from the White House in an un-Christian frame of mind. The
+fact might to an ordinary sinner seem pardonable, and Paula herself,
+though by no means an ordinary sinner, thought so, too. "Impertinent
+bigot!" In these unusually emphatic words she mentally expressed her
+opinion of Achsah Claghorn.
+
+From several points of view Paula was not an ordinary sinner.
+Externally, she was a very pleasing one, being in all things alluring to
+the eye. So nicely adjusted were her physical proportions that it could
+not be said that she was either tall or short, plump or meagre. A
+similar neutrality characterized the tints of her skin and hair. Her
+cheeks were never red, yet never pale; the much-used adjective "rosy"
+would not properly describe the dainty tinge that, without beginning or
+end, or line of demarcation, redeemed her face from pallor. Her nose was
+neither long nor short, upturned or beak-like, and while no man could
+say that it was crooked and remain a man of truth, yet would no
+truth-lover say that it was straight. In all respects a negative nose,
+in no respect imperfect. Her skin, ears, neck, hands, feet--all were
+satisfying, yet not to be described by superlatives. Her hair was
+neither chestnut nor yellow, nor quite smooth nor kinky, but in color
+and adjustment restful; her eyes were nearly violet, and their brows and
+lashes just sufficiently decided to excite no comment. Paula's mouth was
+perhaps the only feature which, apart from the charming whole, demanded
+notice, and he who noticed sorrowed, for it was a mouth inviting, yet
+not offering kisses.
+
+It is believed that it will be admitted that outwardly Paula Lynford was
+not an ordinary sinner. Nor was she such as to the inner being, if she
+herself could be believed; for at this period of her existence she was
+accustomed to introspection, and that habit had disclosed to her that
+she was very bad, indeed, "vile," as she fondly phrased it, or in
+moments of extreme exaltation, "the vilest of the vile."
+
+A serene consciousness of vileness was a recent growth in her bosom.
+Father Cameril (so known to a very small but devoted band of
+worshippers--to the world at large, the Reverend Arthur Cameril) was
+fond of dwelling upon human and his own vileness, and his adorers
+desired to be such as he. Nor did the Reverend Father deny them this
+delight, but rather encouraged their perception of the unworthiness
+indicated by the unpleasant word which had been caught from him by the
+dames and damsels who rejoiced in him and in their own turpitude. Father
+Cameril was, in a very limited circle, quite the rage in the vicinity.
+Since his advent spiritual titillation had been discovered in candles,
+attitudes, novel genuflexions and defiance of the Bishop, a wary old
+gentleman, who was resolved to evade making a martyr of Father Cameril,
+being, from long observation, assured that sporadic sputterings of
+ultra-ritualism were apt to flicker and die if not fanned by opposition.
+The good Father, meanwhile, unaware that the Bishop had resolved that no
+stake should be implanted for his burning, whereby he was to be an
+illumination to the Church, tasted in advance the beatitude of
+martyrdom, and reveled in mysterious grief and saint-like resignation
+and meekness, and while hopefully expectant, he added to his inner joys
+and the eccentricity of his outward man by peculiar vesture of the
+finest quality, beneath which the fond and imaginative eyes of his
+followers saw, as in a vision, a hair shirt. He was known to aspire to
+knee-breeches, and was hopefully suspected of considering a tonsure as a
+means of grace and a sign of sanctity. His little church, St. Perpetua,
+the new and beautiful edifice erected by Mrs. Joseph Claghorn, of
+Stormpoint, in memory of her husband (an offence in Miss Claghorn's
+Calvinistic eyes, and regarded askance by Leonard), was crowded every
+Sunday at Mass, a function which was also celebrated daily at an hour
+when most people were still abed; Paula always, the night watchman,
+about going off duty occasionally, and three elderly ladies, blue and
+shivering, in attendance. Father Cameril was Miss Claghorn's special
+aversion. Tabitha Cone found in him much to admire. He was a good little
+man, inordinately vain, somewhat limited in intellect, and unconscious
+of wrong-doing. He prayed that the Church might be led from the path of
+error in which she obstinately chose to remain, and, by canonizing Henry
+VIII, display works meet for repentance; in which case he would hesitate
+no longer, but return home, that is, to the maternal bosom of Rome, at
+once.
+
+As Paula saw the good Father coming down the street, holding in his
+yellow-gloved hand a bright-red little book, the redness whereof set off
+the delicate tint of the glove, while its gilded edges gleamed in the
+sunlight, she was more than usually conscious of the vileness which
+should have been meekness, even while her anger grew hotter at the
+insult offered by Miss Claghorn to the natty little man approaching,
+"like an early Father," she murmured, though any resemblance between the
+Reverend Arthur in kid gloves and ætat 28, and Polycarp, for instance,
+was only visible to such vision as Paula's.
+
+"You seem disturbed," he said, as the two gloved hands met in delicate
+pressure, and he uttered the usual sigh.
+
+"A cherished hope," she answered, her clear violet eyes bent downward,
+"has been dashed."
+
+"We must bear the cross; let us bear it worthily. I have been pained at
+not seeing you at confession, Paula. You neglect a means of lightening
+the burden of the spirit."
+
+"My cousin objects, Father. I owe her the obedience of a daughter."
+
+"You owe a higher obedience"--here his voice had that tone of sternness
+always sweet to the meek ears of his followers. "Nevertheless," he
+added, "do not act against her wish. I will, myself, see Mrs. Claghorn.
+Meanwhile, bear your burdens with resignation, always remembering the
+weakness, yea, the vileness of the human heart."
+
+"I strive," said Paula, looking very miserable and unconsciously taking
+an illustration from a heavily-laden washerwoman passing, "not to faint
+by the wayside, but the load of life is heavy."
+
+"But there are times when the heart's vileness is forgotten, the soul
+rises above its burdens and feels a foretaste of the life to come,"
+interrupted Father Cameril a little confusedly as to the senses of the
+soul. "Try to rise to those heights."
+
+"I do. May I ask your special intercession for a soul in darkness? One
+that I had hoped to gain."
+
+"Hope on and pray. I shall not forget your request. The name is----"
+
+"Natalie, the daughter of Mr. Beverley Claghorn. You have heard us
+mention them. Mr. Claghorn is dead. Until now she has lived in France,
+where she was born. I hope to see her soon at Easthampton."
+
+"At Stormpoint! How pleasant for you! Paula, we shall rescue this dear
+child from the errors of a schismatic mother. I feel it here," and the
+Reverend Arthur indicated his bosom.
+
+Paula recognized in the schismatic mother the Roman Catholic Church. She
+felt it sinful to leave Father Cameril in ignorance of the facts. She
+felt it unkind to her friend to disclose them. She could sin, if hard
+pushed; she could not be unkind. She concealed the unbelief.
+
+"We knew them some years since in Europe," she said. "I mean Mr.
+Claghorn and Natalie. She is a sweet girl; but she will visit at Miss
+Claghorn's."
+
+The Reverend Arthur's face fell. Above all earthly things he dreaded
+sinners of the type of Achsah Claghorn. "The situation will be
+difficult," he murmured. "But truth will prevail," he added, more
+cheerily. "Truth must prevail."
+
+Which assurance made the girl uncomfortable, because she knew that his
+prayers and his labors would be directed against mere schism, whereas
+the case required the application of every spiritual engine at command.
+
+So that she was not sorry that he left her, after presenting her with
+the little red book and urging her to read the same.
+
+Stormpoint was not inaptly named. A huge crag jutting out into the sea,
+whose waves, ever darting against its granite sides, rolled off with a
+continuous muffled bellow of baffled rage, which, when the storm was
+on, rose to a roar. A cabin had once stood on the bluff, which,
+tradition asserted, had been the home of the first Eliphalet Claghorn,
+whose crumbling tomb, with its long and quaint inscription, was hard by.
+The Reverend Eliphalet slept quiet in death, but the howl of the storm
+and the roar of the waves must have kept him awake on many a night in
+life. Even the stately castle erected by Joseph Claghorn's widow often
+trembled from the shock of the blast. The region about was strewn with
+huge boulders, evidences of some long-past upheaval of nature, while
+among the crags great trees had taken root. The landscape was majestic,
+but the wind-swept soil was barren, and the place had remained a waste.
+Only a fortune, such as had been derived from the Great Serpent, could
+make the Point comfortable for habitation. But the task had been
+accomplished, and Stormpoint was the second wonder of Easthampton, the
+first being the wonderful chapel, St. Perpetua.
+
+Paula gloried in Stormpoint. Not for its grandeur or the money it had
+cost, but because she loved the breeze and the sea and the partial
+isolation. Even now, as she ascended the bluff by a side path, rugged
+and steep, and commenced to smell the ocean and feel its damp upon her
+cheek, the Reverend Arthur Cameril seemed less like an early Father, and
+his lemon-colored kids less impressive.
+
+On hearing her name called and looking up, she smiled more brightly and
+looked more beautiful than she had yet looked that day, though, from the
+moment she had emerged from her morning bath of salt water she had been
+beautiful. "Aha! Leonard, is that you?" she exclaimed.
+
+"Where have you been?" asked Leonard, as he reached her side.
+
+"At Miss Claghorn's. She sent for me."
+
+Leonard's eyes opened wide. "Cousin Achsah sent for you! What for?"
+
+"She will tell you."
+
+"And you won't. Well, I must wait. What have you there?" taking the
+little red book from her hand. "'The Lives of the Hermits!' Oh, Paula;
+you had better read the 'Lives of the Laundresses'; these were a very
+dirty set."
+
+"Leonard! How can you? A clergyman, a professor of theology!"
+
+"Oh, I've no objection to them except that," he answered, "and I
+wouldn't mention their favorite vanity if they had not so reveled in it
+and plumed themselves upon it. Paula, Paula," he added, more seriously,
+"Father Cameril gave you that."
+
+He was vexed, perhaps jealous of Father Cameril, though if so, he was
+unconscious, ascribing his vexation to a different source. He had a
+hearty contempt for the silly flummery, as he mentally described it,
+practised by Father Cameril, and he hated to know that Paula was enticed
+by it. She understood and was neither without enjoyment of his vexation
+nor resentment that he would not express it in words. She would have
+liked him to forbid the reading of the little book. It would have been a
+sign of steadfastness to disobey; it might have been a greater pleasure
+to obey.
+
+"Well, read the book, if you can stomach it," he said. "I doubt if you
+will derive any benefit. I must be going. When you and Cousin Achsah
+take to plotting, I must investigate. Good-bye."
+
+"Leonard, did you know that Natalie is in New York, that she has come to
+America to live?"
+
+"Natalie in New York! Your news amazes me. She will come here, of
+course?"
+
+"Not to Stormpoint," she answered regretfully. "To your cousin's, Miss
+Claghorn."
+
+He looked his surprise. "To live there! That surely will never do."
+
+"Oh, Leonard, I am so glad you agree with me. I tried to persuade Miss
+Claghorn to let her come to us. Think of it! Alone with those two old
+women and their quarrels. That gloomy house! It's dreadful!"
+
+"It certainly will not do for Natalie," he observed, thoughtfully. "I
+wish, Paula, my cousin had consulted me rather than you."
+
+"Why, Leonard! You don't suppose I did not urge all I could?"
+
+"That's just it. Cousin Achsah is, of her kind, a very fine specimen,
+and I am her favorite and bound to respect and love her, as I do--but a
+nature like hers and one like yours are antagonistic."
+
+"Then, since you respect and--and----"
+
+"And love her, you think I don't respect and love you; but you know
+better, Paula."
+
+She blushed at the snare the echo of his words had led her into. He was
+not so conscious. "As I remember Natalie," he said, "she was amiable and
+nice in all points--still she and my cousin----"
+
+"They will be absolutely incomprehensible to each other," said Paula.
+"Do try and have her consent to let Natalie come to Stormpoint."
+
+"I will do what I can. Has Mrs. Joe invited her?"
+
+"She will be only too glad as soon as she knows. But the matter has been
+placed in such a light by that tiresome Mr. Winter--but there, you will
+find out everything from your cousin. Do what you can."
+
+"I will. What happy days they were, those days in Heidelberg."
+
+The violet eyes were tender with reminiscence, the pretty mouth
+seductive. "They were the happiest of my life," she said.
+
+"And of mine," echoed Leonard, as he walked off, having seen neither
+mouth nor eyes, but a vision of the past.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+THE ADVANTAGES OF TREADING THE BORDERLAND OF VICE.
+
+
+Among the diversions indulged in at Heidelberg, during the accidental
+reunion of the Claghorns, there had been one particularly affected by
+Professor and philosopher. The early education of these two had been
+identical; their later training had progressed on widely diverging
+lines. The Reverend Jared had continued in the path in which his
+footsteps had been placed in childhood, while Beverley had wandered far.
+Yet, being by inheritance as nearly alike as may be two who, descended
+from a common ancestor, partake of marked ancestral traits, agreement
+between them in reference to a matter wherein their views clashed was
+impossible; which fact had sufficed to lend a charm to disputation.
+
+A favorite theme of discussion had been discovered in the serious
+problems connected with the training of youth. The clergyman had a son
+who embodied his theories; the philosopher was the father of a daughter
+educated upon a plan of his own. Each was paternally satisfied with
+results so far, and each hoped for further development equally
+gratifying.
+
+The philosopher preached from a text which may be briefly stated in the
+words of the proverb, which informs us that "Familiarity breeds
+contempt." He would apply this maxim to evil and use knowledge as the
+shield of youth. Whereas the Professor, relying upon the truth contained
+in the adage, "Ignorance is bliss," and maintaining that modified bliss
+in this world and perfect bliss in the world to come are the proper
+objects of man's endeavor, logically contended that ignorance of evil, a
+thing in its nature sure to breed sorrow, was to be encouraged.
+
+"The true way to appreciate the dangers which must inevitably beset
+youth is to become familiar with them. Distance lends enchantment. That
+closer inspection of vice which may be derived from acquaintance with
+its borderland, wherein the feet of the novice may be taught to tread
+warily, will result in indifference, if not disgust. As long as there is
+ignorance there will be curiosity, which is more dangerous than
+knowledge." Thus had spoken the philosopher. To which the Professor had
+replied: "Yet I will not assume that you wish your daughter to tread the
+borderland of vice?"
+
+"Certainly I do; limiting her steps to the borderland of the vices to
+which she is to be exposed. I admit that a man cannot, as readily as a
+woman, take cognizance of such vices. It is my misfortune and my
+daughter's that her mother died at her birth; but I have endeavored to
+make her superior to the glaring defects of her sex. She is not petty.
+She yearns neither for bonnets nor beatitudes. Without attempting, in
+the ignorance inseparable from my sex, to instruct her in detail, I have
+always had in view the enlargement of her mind."
+
+"By educating her as a Frenchwoman!"
+
+"Pardon me, no. Much as I admire the French, I do not approve their
+system of female education, which, by the way, resembles the course you
+have pursued with your son. I do not question its frequent excellent
+results, nor can I question its failures. My daughter's schooling has
+been only partially French. Travel and indiscriminate reading--I have
+largely relied on these."
+
+"I am willing to admit, Cousin, that the apparent results in those
+matters which you deem of most importance ought to be gratifying. It is
+no exaggeration to say that my young cousin is a charming girl. But her
+life has not been lived."
+
+"No. Therefore, we cannot fairly speculate as to the outcome. Meanwhile,
+as far as my system has reached, it is gratifying, as you confess."
+
+"The same can be said of mine."
+
+"Doubtless. But has your son's life been lived? Thus far, you have as
+much reason for satisfaction as I have. I hope that you will never be
+compelled to admit that innocence, based on ignorance, is a weak barrier
+to oppose to the inevitable temptations which beset young men."
+
+"Innocence fortified by religious principle, early instilled," had been
+the solemn reply.
+
+M. Claghorn understood the solemnity and braved the possible results of
+a confession which he was willing to make rather than be further exposed
+to the occasional somewhat annoying admonitory tone of his companion.
+
+"I am a living example of the futility of that contention," he answered.
+"I do not wish to be understood as admitting that I have been unduly
+addicted to vice, which would not be true; but I have tasted of
+forbidden fruit. I found it unsatisfactory. I base my theory on careful
+observation and some personal experience."
+
+Cousin Jared groaned inwardly, but made no answer. Exhortation was on
+his tongue's end, but, as the philosopher had desired, he recognized its
+futility.
+
+Indulgence in wine was one of those vices which the Reverend Jared had
+found reprehensible, a practice which it grieved him to observe was
+permitted by the lax views of all those Claghorns, except himself and
+Leonard, who were sojourning together. It is not to be assumed that
+these people indulged in unseemly intoxication. Of so untoward a result
+the Professor had no fear. He objected to wine-drinking as offering an
+evil example. The fact that in so doing he discredited the first miracle
+of his Saviour was a difficulty easily surmounted by a nimble
+theologian.
+
+"You are so fierce about wine that one would think you had a personal
+hatred toward liquor," Beverley had said to him laughingly.
+
+"I have, 'Liph. Jeremiah Morley----" He said no more, remembering who
+Jeremiah Morley had been.
+
+"It is fanaticism, Jared; absolutely incomprehensible. Your son, even
+though a clergyman, must live in the world. I don't say make him
+worldly, but don't let him remain in complete ignorance. He is a
+handsome fellow, amiable, intelligent--really too good for a parson."
+
+"Which you intended to be; which your father, grandfather and
+great-grandfather were."
+
+"Don't think I depreciate them. But your boy is hardly formed on the
+Claghorn pattern. He has probably more of the Morleys. His mother must
+have been a very beautiful woman, if he resembles her."
+
+"As good as she was beautiful," sighed the widower. "Yes, Leonard
+resembles the Morleys--the best of them."
+
+And so the discussion had terminated. It has been recorded here to
+indicate paternal views as to the education of youth. In the practice of
+the views he held, Professor Claghorn had been ably seconded by an
+excellent and pious wife, and had he been alive to see the result in the
+young man who had just left Paula Lynford, he must assuredly have
+observed the proved soundness of his theories and practice.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+A YOUTH OF PROMISE, A FEMALE POLITICIAN AND A YELLOW MAN.
+
+
+Paula watched Leonard until he disappeared. Then she sighed. Long ago
+Beverley Claghorn had paid a similar tribute to the charms which
+extorted the sigh. In Paula's eyes the attractions which pertained to
+Leonard were lost in the sect to which he belonged. As a priest of the
+Church (it was thus that she put it) he would have been externally
+perfect, his physical excellence of unspeakable value to the cause of
+pure truth, while his conception of the priestly role would have been
+even nobler than that of Father Cameril. Leonard would have been no meek
+saint, but a saint militant, and long ere this the Bishop would have
+been down upon him, to the episcopal discomfiture.
+
+If Paula grieved that Leonard labored under the disadvantage of the
+rigid practice of his denomination as to vesture and pulpit accessories,
+to those by whom such disadvantages were unrecognized his personality
+was no less persuasive of his fitness for noble deeds. As a rising
+theologian and young teacher of the divine science, he was, to those who
+watched his course, of excellent promise; destined to be a defender of
+that ancient creed which of late had been often attacked by able, if
+deluded, foes. To him orthodoxy looked with confidence, as to one who,
+when the day of battle came, would valiantly assail the enemies without,
+and confound the machinations of those within the household of faith. A
+worthy successor of his father, Professor Jared Claghorn, and to be
+greater, as better equipped to meet skeptical reasoning with reason
+clarified by faith; to demonstrate that the eye of the philosopher is
+but a feeble instrument for scrutiny of the works of God.
+
+He was not ignorant of the general estimate or of the hopes of his
+elders, and had long been accustomed to fit himself for the position he
+was destined to fill, but of these aspirations he was oblivious as he
+walked slowly toward the town. He had never forgotten his father's words
+as to Natalie's unbelief. They were part of the memory of her, and now
+that memory was reawakened, and the words sounded again in his ears. He
+was deeply stirred by the knowledge that an errant soul was about to
+enter the inner circle of his life. He saw the hand of Providence in the
+fact; it was for this that she had not been turned from infidelity to
+error. She would not find the way to heaven by the dim rays of the
+obscured light of Romanism, but by the purer light of a reformed and
+vitalized religion, and to him was to be given the glory of being
+heaven's instrument. He was ambitious; his eyes had long been set on
+such earthly honors as come to theologians; he was prepared to welcome
+the theological storm of which the forecasts were already visible to
+those of clear perception, such as his own. In that impending struggle
+he knew that he would bear himself worthily, yet no glory that he could
+rightly anticipate therefrom seemed now so pleasing, nor awakened more
+fervent hope than that just born within him, the hope of rescuing a
+single soul. That glory would transcend all other, for though from men
+his work might be hidden, in the eyes of God he would be a faithful and
+worthy servant, and would hear from heaven the inaudible words, "Well
+done."
+
+Exaltation such as this had long been rare with Leonard, whose mind of
+late had been fascinated rather by the mysteries of doctrine than warmed
+by religious fervor; and he was himself surprised that this ardent
+desire for a soul should enchain him; but he was gratified. To save
+souls was the ultimate object of his teaching; he was glad of this
+evidence that he had not forgotten it.
+
+It may be that other thoughts, memories of bygone days, arose in his
+mind. Perhaps he recalled the beauty that had so attracted him in the
+garden of the Red Ox. There may have been some stirring of the blood of
+youth, which of late had sometimes coursed tingling through his veins;
+sometimes when he held Paula's hand, or noted the peachy velvet of her
+cheek, the clear depths of her eyes. But, if it were so, he was
+unconscious.
+
+Meanwhile, Paula, who in the face of Miss Claghorn's fiat, still hoped
+to rescue Natalie from the impending horrors of the White House, turned
+toward the mansion. Her main reliance lay in anticipating the summons of
+Miss Achsah by an urgent invitation from the mistress of Stormpoint, to
+which end it was essential to seek that lady without further delay.
+Suddenly, as she hurried on, an exclamation of annoyance escaped her,
+and her steps were arrested by the sight of an ancient and mud-encrusted
+buggy which stood near that entrance to the house toward which her own
+steps were tending. She recognized the equipage of Mr. Hezekiah Hacket,
+and recent observation had taught her that when Mr. Hacket's carriage
+stopped that way, the lady of Stormpoint was not accessible to persons
+of minor distinction.
+
+Aside from her general disapproval of Mr. Hacket, whose buggy, beneath
+its coating of mud, was yellow, and who was himself a yellow man, with
+teeth, hair, eyes and skin all of that unattractive hue, and unlovely in
+consequence of his pervading tint, Paula had no reason, so far as she
+knew, to resent Mr. Hacket's presence, except that it interfered with
+access to Mrs. Joe. Had she been aware of that which was transpiring in
+that apartment of the mansion which was devoted to business of state,
+she would have known that the visit of the gentleman was to have an
+important bearing upon her wish to deprive Miss Achsah of the
+opportunity to convert her erring grand-niece to Calvinism; which dark
+design Paula, since her meeting with Father Cameril, suspected.
+
+Hezekiah Hacket, externally no more noteworthy than any very ordinary
+man and brother, was, in fact, an important personage in that region
+where Mrs. Joseph Claghorn had replanted the California branch of the
+family tree, intending that it should flourish and mightily expand. The
+shrewd lady of Stormpoint had quickly discovered that Mr. Hacket, the
+man of business of the Seminary, as well as of everybody that required
+the services of a man of business, possessed a sphere of influence
+eminently worthy of cultivation by political aspirants; and in all the
+region round about there was no such aspirant whose ambition soared as
+high as hers. In a realm largely dominated by a theological seminary,
+the existence of the political potentate called "Boss" was ignored and
+the word was seldom heard; but Mr. Hacket was the thing, and, all
+unconscious, the Seminary voted as its political guardian wished. Not
+the Seminary only; as the investor of the funds of others, this
+personage controlled the sources of power, and while deftly avoiding
+concentration of the secret antagonism which he knew existed against
+himself, by never exposing himself to the vengeance of the ballot, Mr.
+Hacket named the candidates for office--not infrequently those of
+opposing sides, so that in close elections, when a rolling wave of
+reform rendered the outlook uncertain, as in those not close, he
+remained the winner. Financially, he was strictly, though only legally,
+honest. Politically, he was a rogue. He was a pious man, though without
+a conscience and without belief. His industry was untiring. The lady of
+Stormpoint disliked him, at times to the point of loathing, and she
+courted him and smiled upon him.
+
+"I sent for you," she said, on his appearance at Stormpoint, and
+offering a fair hand and an agreeable smile, both of which Mr. Hacket
+pretended not to see, it being his pleasant way to rule by insolence--if
+possible, by cringing if need were--"because in a few months my son will
+return home."
+
+Mr. Hacket smoothed his yellow jaws with a freckled hand, and replied,
+"Just so," while the lady, who secretly desired to shake him, smiled yet
+more agreeably.
+
+"Before he left home the last time," she continued, seeing that her
+visitor intended to remain dumb, "he had made many acquaintances. This
+was in accordance with your advice. What is he to do now?"
+
+"Make more acquaintances."
+
+"That, of course. I want him to enter the next Legislature."
+
+Mr. Hacket had not decided that the desire expressed by the lady was his
+own, but he was shrewd enough to know that, crude as her ideas might be,
+and defective her knowledge of things political, she had the energy to
+attain her desire in the end, if seconded by the efforts of her
+candidate. He hated innovation, but he was aware that the Great Serpent
+held potentialities which he must not antagonize. It was not possible
+for him to be pleasing to Mrs. Joe, nor for her to be pleasing to him;
+but it was prudent to seem sympathetic. He essayed it, awkwardly enough.
+
+"You know," he said, "your son is young and his only merit is money."
+
+She flushed; but she knew he could not help being insolent in the
+presence of grace, comeliness and luxury, and all these were before him.
+"You mean it's the merit by which he's best known. Let it serve until
+others become apparent."
+
+"It'll go far, but some it makes mad. I have an idea your son isn't
+over-warm in the matter."
+
+"He didn't seem so. He wasn't aware that I am serious, and I said but
+little to him. Then the country was very new to him, and the people.
+He'd been long in Europe; his position was difficult." She had realized
+much more keenly than Mr. Hacket that Mark had only followed her urgency
+in that matter of making acquaintance because he had wished to please
+her. She was sure that there had been some hidden cause for indifference
+other than distaste for the task she had set him, and had brooded not a
+little over possibilities. But she was sanguine by nature; and since no
+love-tale had come to her ears (and she had her observers and reporters)
+she had concluded that, whatever the cause of his indifference, her son
+would become sufficiently ardent in the furtherance of her plans, when
+once they were more fully disclosed to him, and he had become aware that
+his mother had set her heart upon a political career for him. At present
+he probably regarded her wishes as merely a passing whim, and she knew
+that he was ignorant of her consultations with Mr. Hacket.
+
+"Positions are apt to be difficult," observed the gentleman. "However,
+it's much too soon to discuss nominations. He'll have a year before
+him."
+
+"He must have the Seminary," she said, "when the time comes."
+
+"When the time comes," he echoed. He did not intend to commit himself,
+but he was becoming each moment more convinced that the lady knew her
+value and wished him to perceive the fact. It was equally evident that
+she duly appreciated his own; was, in fact, afraid of him, a pleasing
+assurance, which would have been yet more delightful if the gentleman,
+simultaneously with the recognition of this truth, had not also
+recognized a less agreeable fact, namely, that he was also afraid of
+her; sufficiently so to make it advisable that she understand he was not
+trifling with her. Such advice as he might give must seem reasonable,
+and must go beyond the suggestion of making acquaintances.
+
+"You're working the Sem. all right," he said as graciously as he could.
+"Keep it up, but don't overdo it. How's Miss Achsah feel?"
+
+"Friendly to Mark, I'm sure; not unfriendly to me, though----"
+
+"Though your church sticks in her--is hard to swallow. I'm not surprised
+at that. St. Perpetual's----"
+
+"Is there and beyond discussion."
+
+"I always believe in looking over the whole field. St. Perpetual covers
+a good deal of it; so does Miss Achsah, and----"
+
+"I had no idea that my sister-in-law is a political factor."
+
+"Her's is, or wants to be."
+
+"Well, let us conciliate Miss Achsah, if necessary. We're on fair
+terms----"
+
+"Next time the Bishop comes here, invite her to dinner with him."
+
+"She'll decline."
+
+"What if she does? You always had the Professor, and she'll see that you
+look on her as his successor."
+
+He rose, as if to go, but hesitated. Not because of any delicacy about
+volunteering the counsel that hovered on his lips, but in doubt whether
+it might not be well to permit her to injure her aspirations as much as
+she could. The certainty that she was, if she cared to be, too
+influential to offend him, determined him. He felt, with a sigh, that
+the time might come when he might be compelled to share his power;
+better that than risk losing it.
+
+"I was in New York this week and saw Ellis Winter," he said. "Ellis told
+me that 'Liph Claghorn's daughter is in this country. He seemed to think
+you might invite her here."
+
+"I intended to do so."
+
+"Don't. She's French and, I suppose, a Romanist. Winter was
+close-mouthed, but I could see there was something. There's talk enough
+about idolatry and St. Perpetual's. I happen to know that Miss Achsah
+wants her, too, to convert her."
+
+"Really, Mr. Hacket----"
+
+"Good-bye," he said. "I've acted on the square. There's more in the
+matter than you think."
+
+After his departure the lady of Stormpoint spent a few moments of
+indulgence in silent indignation; but when Paula came and preferred the
+request for that urgent invitation to Natalie, which was to circumvent
+the designs of Miss Claghorn, she found the lady inclined to recognize
+the claims of that person. Nevertheless, she promised to send the
+invitation, and did so that afternoon.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+THE DEVIL WALKS TO AND FRO IN HAMPTON.
+
+
+The ancient city of Hampton and its Theological Seminary are well known.
+To the wanderer under the elms of the quaint old town there is imparted
+an impression of cleanliness and a serene complacency, derived,
+doubtless, from the countenances of the many who, clad in sombre vesture
+and clean linen, pass and repass in the quiet streets. No man can be
+long in Hampton without feeling the theological influence; unconsciously
+the wayfarer adopts the prevailing manner, becomes deliberate in his
+walk and grave of aspect; his moral tone acquires rigidity, his taste
+severity; he inwardly rejoices if clad in fitting black and secretly
+covets gold-rimmed spectacles.
+
+The best hotel, facing the Square, has the Hampton air, being even
+severely theological in aspect. Ordinary commercial travelers prefer
+"The United States," also a grave hostelry, though less austere in tone;
+but some descend at "The Hampton," reverend appearing gentlemen these,
+with white chokers conspicuous, and dealing in churchly wares and
+theological publications.
+
+In this house Leonard had lived since his father's death had made the
+old home desolate, being, by reason of his personal as well as his
+professional attributes, a guest of note; and here there happened to him
+one day a new and strange experience.
+
+He was breakfasting, later than his usual hour, when he became conscious
+of the scrutiny of the strangest eyes he had ever seen--eyes belonging
+to a woman, who, plainly clad in traveling attire, faced him from an
+adjacent table where she sat, with another woman, whose back was toward
+Leonard.
+
+The gaze, though fixed, was not in appearance intentionally bold. The
+woman's eyes, dreamy, languishing, seemed to sink into his own, as
+though seeking what might be in the depths they tried to penetrate. It
+was as though, for them, the veil behind which man hides his inner self
+was lifted, and a sense of pleasure stole over him and willingness to
+surrender to this scrutiny; withal a shrinking from disclosure of that
+which he instinctively felt was unknown, even to himself. It required
+some effort to rise and leave the room.
+
+An hour later, while waiting for the time of his morning lecture, and
+hardly freed as yet from the sensation resulting from his breakfast
+experience, while sitting in the spacious hall of the quiet house, he
+suddenly became aware of drapery, and looking up, encountered the eyes
+again; not as he had been seeing them since he had escaped them, but
+again bodily where they belonged, under the heavy brows of a dark-faced,
+large, and rather handsome woman.
+
+"Pardon," she said in musical tones, and with a scarce perceptible smile
+at the ruddy flush which mantled his face. "_Est ce Monsieur Claghorn?_"
+
+"Surely," exclaimed Leonard, "this is not----"
+
+"The maid of Mademoiselle Claghorn," she replied, still in French. "The
+clerk indicated you as Monsieur----"
+
+"Certainly. Your mistress----"
+
+"This way, Monsieur." She led him toward the parlor, and had his ears
+been keen enough, he might have heard her murmur: "_Il est adorable._"
+
+Natalie had been, in Leonard's eyes, a very beautiful girl, and he found
+her now a very beautiful woman. She was tall, dark, slender and
+indescribably graceful, as well as with the nameless manner, born with
+some and never in perfection acquired, of exceeding yet not obtrusive
+graciousness. Had she been born a duchess, she could not have had a
+better manner; had she been born a washerwoman, it would have been as
+good, for it was born, not made. The mere beauty of her face was hardly
+remembered in contemplation of qualities apparent, yet not wholly
+comprehensible. Ordinarily serene, if not joyous in expression, there
+was an underlying sadness that seldom left it. Perhaps she still grieved
+for the father she had lost; perhaps, unconsciously, she craved the love
+or the religion which the Marquise had said a woman needs.
+
+The travelers were on their way to Easthampton, having arrived in the
+night train from New York. On learning that less than an hour's drive
+would bring her to the home of Miss Claghorn, Natalie declined Leonard's
+escort. "I wish to see my grand-aunt alone," she explained. "She has
+written a most kind invitation----"
+
+"Which I hope you will accept, Cousin."
+
+"Which I greatly desire to accept, but----"
+
+"If for any reason," he interrupted, "you should decide not to accept
+Cousin Achsah's invitation, I know that at Stormpoint----"
+
+"I have letters from both Mrs. Joe and Paula; but my first duty, and my
+inclination as well, take me to my father's aunt."
+
+Though he had at first agreed with Paula that residence with Miss Achsah
+would not "do" for Natalie, he saw the fitness of her decision. She
+recognized her own status as a Claghorn and appreciated the Claghorn
+claim upon her. "I am glad you feel so," he said. "You will discern
+Cousin Achsah's real excellence beneath an exterior which, at first
+sight, may seem unpromising. She is not French, as you will soon
+discover, but as for true kindness----"
+
+She interrupted with a laugh. "You and Mr. Winter are both eloquent in
+apologizing for my grand-aunt's sort of kindness, which, it seems,
+differs from the French variety."
+
+"We only mean she will seem to you undemonstrative. She is very
+religious."
+
+"That does not alarm me; everybody is--except myself," and now her laugh
+had a cadence of sadness.
+
+It touched him. He knew the task laid out for him by Providence, and he
+felt that he ought to say a fitting word. But all the time he knew that
+the eyes of the maid were upon him. The knowledge made him appear
+somewhat constrained--he who ordinarily had an ease of manner, which was
+not the least of his charms.
+
+"They are well at Stormpoint, of course?" questioned Natalie. "Mrs. Joe
+and Paula?"
+
+"Perfectly. You will be charmed with their home. Mrs. Claghorn has
+transformed a desert. The sea----"
+
+"Paula sent me some views, and better, an appreciative description. I
+should think they would never wish to leave it--none of them?" She
+looked inquiringly at him.
+
+"As to that," he laughed, "Mrs. Joe flits occasionally; and, of course,
+Paula with her. But they are becoming more and more content to remain at
+home. Mrs. Joe is quite a public character."
+
+"A chatelaine--the head of the house?" Again her eyes questioned more
+insistently than her lips.
+
+"Quite so," was the answer. "Mark's a rover. He's in Russia."
+
+A sigh of relief--or regret? It was quickly checked. Leonard noticed her
+pallor. "You are tired," he said. "Why not rest for an hour or two here?
+If you will do so, I can myself drive you to Easthampton. Just now I
+must attend to my class at the Seminary."
+
+But she would not wait for his escort; so he procured a conveyance, and
+surmising that, under the circumstances, the maid was an embarrassment,
+he suggested providing her with a book and the hospitality of his
+sitting-room, and having seen his cousin depart, he conducted
+Mademoiselle Berthe to his room and handed her a volume of the "Revue
+des Deux Mondes," which the maid accepted graciously.
+
+"There," he said pleasantly, and in his best French, "you can look out
+of the window or read, as you please. I hope you will not find the time
+long."
+
+She smiled in reply. Her penetrating eyes sought that other self within
+him, which leaped to the call and looked out of his eyes into hers. For
+a moment only. His gaze dropped. Wondering, he found himself trembling.
+
+"I--I shall look in in an hour, to see if you want anything."
+
+"Monsieur is very good," murmured Berthe. They were not far apart; her
+hand touched his. She looked downward.
+
+"Good-bye," he said abruptly.
+
+She watched him crossing the square toward the Seminary. There was a
+half smile upon her lips. "He is adorable," she murmured again. "Ah! I
+thought so," as Leonard, now some hundred yards away, looked back.
+
+When he had disappeared she lazily inspected her surroundings, noting
+the various objects with faint interest. "_Son père_," she muttered as
+her glance fell upon the portrait of Professor Jared Claghorn. But she
+examined more minutely that of his mother. "_Belle femme_," was her
+comment, and though her eyes wandered from the picture, they often
+returned to it, verifying the close resemblance between it and the
+occupant of the room. "Ah-h!" she exclaimed, throwing up her arms, and
+then letting them fall listlessly, "_Qu'il est beau_!"
+
+Then she tried to doze, but without much success, twitching nervously
+and occasionally muttering impatiently; and, at length, she rose from
+her chair and began to deliberately inspect the various objects lying on
+table or mantel. Everything that was purely ornamental she scrutinized
+with care, as though she would read the reason of its being where she
+found it. There was a peculiar expression of veiled anger in her eyes
+while thus engaged, and once the veil was momentarily lifted and anger
+was visible. Nevertheless, she laughed a moment after and replaced the
+object, an ivory paper cutter, where she had found it. "_T'es bête_,"
+she muttered.
+
+But soon her dark eyes flashed actual rage. She had taken a prettily
+bound book of poems from the table, where it had been thrown, as if but
+recently read. She turned the pages, half carelessly, yet with a sharp
+eye, to see if there were any marked passages. She found one or two
+such, and it would have been diverting, had there been a spectator
+present, to note her perplexed attempts to read Mrs. Browning. But the
+language was beyond her powers, and she was about impatiently to replace
+the book when she noticed the fly-leaf, whereon in a neat, clear hand
+was written the inscription, "Leonard, from Paula." She stared at these
+innocent words with a glare that under no circumstances could have been
+regarded as amusing. Finally, she tore the leaf from the book and flung
+the book itself disdainfully from her. Then she crumpled the leaf in her
+hand, threw it into the waste basket, and deliberately spat upon it.
+
+Which strange proceeding perhaps soothed her irritation, for she lay
+back in her chair, and after breathing hard for a little while, was soon
+sleeping peacefully.
+
+Meantime, while Mademoiselle slept the sleep of one who has spent the
+night in travel, Leonard lectured, but less fluently than was usual. A
+man out of sorts is not an uncommon circumstance, and though his flushed
+cheeks, bright eyes, and occasional bungling speech were sufficiently
+remarkable in one ordinarily engrossed with his subject, nothing was
+said to further disturb his equanimity.
+
+The lecture over, he walked across the square, less equable in spirit
+than he had been in the class-room; for there he had striven to retain
+his grasp of the topic in hand; now he was under no restraint and could
+surrender himself to contemplation--of what?
+
+Of the stirring touch of a woman's hand, of the vision of a new world, a
+glimpse of which he had caught in the greedy depths of a woman's eyes.
+Even now he was hurrying to see these things again, while he was angry
+that they drew him back.
+
+He overcame the attraction, and deliberately sat down upon a bench. He
+watched a little girl playing about, and might have remained watching
+had not the devil, who sometimes walks to and fro and up and down in
+Hampton, intervened.
+
+The child was suddenly struck by a ball, batted by an urchin, who, on
+seeing what he had done, incontinently took to his heels. She fell,
+stunned, almost at Leonard's feet. The impact of the ball had seemed
+frightful, and for a moment Leonard thought she was killed.
+
+The hotel was across the street. He carried her thither, intending to
+summon a physician, but on seeing some returning signs of animation, he
+took his burden to his room and laid her on the bed.
+
+Berthe, her nap over, had witnessed the scene in the park. She heard
+Leonard lay the child on the bed in the chamber adjoining the room in
+which she sat, and was instantly by the bedside with her traveling bag,
+from which she produced restoratives. She gave her whole attention to
+the sufferer, while he looked on, pleased with these gentle
+ministrations.
+
+"It may be a bad hurt," said Berthe, undoubted pity in her tone. "The
+brain may be injured."
+
+"I will call the doctor,'" he said.
+
+The doctor was at hand, his room being on the same corridor. His opinion
+was that no serious damage had been done. "Let her rest awhile. If she
+seems unusually drowsy, let me know," with which words and a glance at
+Mademoiselle, he returned to his room.
+
+Berthe knelt beside the child, who was growing alarmed as her
+intelligence became normally acute. The Frenchwoman prattled soothingly,
+and Leonard stooped to add some words of encouragement. He stroked the
+child's hair, and his hand met the soft hand of Berthe and was enclosed
+within it. He trembled as she drew him downward, and a sob escaped him
+as his lips met hers and lingered on them in a rapturous kiss.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+HER EYES GREW LIMPID AND HER CHEEKS FLUSHED RED.
+
+
+When the carriage, which was to convey her to Easthampton, had started,
+Natalie commenced the re-perusal of Miss Claghorn's invitation, which
+ran thus:
+
+     "My Dear Grand-niece--I address you thus, for though I have
+     never seen you, yet you are of my kindred, and all who bear
+     your name must be dear to me. Your father was so in his youth,
+     and if, in later years, he neglected, if he did not forget, the
+     ties of kinship and of country, I nevertheless mourned for him,
+     even though sensible that all things are ordered by the Lord of
+     heaven and earth and that human regret is useless, and, if
+     unaccompanied with resignation, sinful. Mr. Winter writes me
+     that you are friendless. I offer that which you can justly
+     claim from me--my friendship and a home. As far as earthly
+     cares are concerned, I am willing to relieve you of those
+     incident to your situation. This is plainly my duty, and for
+     many years I have striven, with God's help, to perform with a
+     cheerful spirit that which I have been called upon to do.
+
+     "It is this habit which impels me here to refer to your views
+     concerning man's duty toward his Maker. I do not, because
+     conscientiously I cannot, agree with those who profess
+     tolerance in these matters. There should be no tolerance of
+     sin. If we would worthily follow in the steps of Him who died
+     that we might live, we must hate the devil and his children in
+     the same measure that we love our Father and his children.
+     Whose child are you?
+
+     "This is a solemn question. I urge you to seek its answer at
+     the Throne. If you will do this, my hope will be mighty. Should
+     you be tempted to resent my solicitude, remember that my
+     religion is a part of my nature, the only part meriting your
+     respect, and that it requires of me that which I have written,
+     as well as much more not set down here, but of which I hope I
+     shall see the fruits. Come to me as soon as possible, and be
+     assured of a welcome. ACHSAH CLAGHORN."
+
+The girl smiled, though sadly, as she read this letter. She did not
+resent the fact that it was confessedly inspired solely by a sense of
+duty; she rather admired the writer for the uncompromising statement;
+nor was she offended at the sermon contained in the epistle, or inclined
+to treat it lightly. It is not probable that the writer of the letter
+believed that her exhortation would sink deeply in the heart of an
+"atheist," she being probably unaware that some who know not God crave a
+knowledge which they find nowhere offered.
+
+The drive was long, the horse sleepy, the driver willing that his steed
+should doze, while his passenger paid by the hour, for which reason he
+had chosen the longer road by the sea.
+
+She looked out upon the water with a gaze of longing, as though there
+might arise from out the solitary deep a vision which would solve that
+great mystery, which for Miss Claghorn and such as she, was no mystery,
+but wherein most of us grope as in a fog. But, as to other yearning
+eyes, so to hers no vision was vouchsafed; though had her sight been
+strengthened by experience, she might have seen, symbolized in the
+waters, the life of man. For, against the shore the fretful waves were
+spent and lost in sand, whereof each particle was insignificant, but
+which in the mass absorbed the foaming billows, as the vain aspirations
+of youth absorb its futile energies. Beyond was the green water, still
+tireless and vexed, and then the smoother blue, as it neared the
+sky-line, undisturbed, until afar the waters lay at rest in hopeless
+patience, and the heavens came down and hid the secret of what lay
+beyond.
+
+But, if youth looked with the eyes of age, there were no youth. She was
+not yet to know lessons which must be hardly learned, and it was not
+that one offered by the waters that she saw as she looked out upon the
+ocean. Far beyond the horizon, in a distant land, her eyes beheld the
+garden of a village inn where sat a girl, prattling with her father and
+commenting upon two dusty strangers, who in their turn were eyeing the
+maid and her companion curiously. She saw the cave, heard Leonard shout
+the name--and then Mark Claghorn stood before her--as he then had stood,
+in the jaunty cap and ribbon which proclaimed him "_Bursch_"; one of
+those lawless beings of whom she had heard much school-girl prattle.
+Even then she had contrasted the handsomer face of the simple-minded boy
+beside her with the harsher and more commanding features of this
+newcomer. And her fancy wandered on through pleasant German saunterings
+and Parisian scenes among the churches--to the day when Berthe Lenoir
+had said that Mark would be her teacher in the lore of love; and she
+knew that, in the moment of that saying, she had learned the great
+lesson, never to be forgotten.
+
+She had cherished the secret without hope or wish that he should share
+it, for she knew that so sweet a thing could live in no heart but her
+own; and she had not been ashamed, but had been proud of this holy
+acquisition hidden in her heart of hearts. Her eyes grew limpid and her
+cheeks flushed red as she recalled how the shrine of her treasure had
+been profaned by the hand of one that might have known, but had
+disdained its worth. In the Church of St. Roch the three who had been
+present when love was born were again alone together. Berthe was now her
+maid, and Mark, his university days past, was a daily visitor at her
+father's house.
+
+The scene was clear before her as he pointed to the maid, out of
+earshot, and gazing carelessly at the worshippers. "Has she
+forgotten--so soon?" he said. "Are women so?"
+
+She had not answered. Forgotten! Who could forget?
+
+"I have not forgotten. I often come here, Natalie."
+
+She had had no words. What was it that had so joyously welled up within
+her and overflowed her eyes and closed her lips?
+
+"I was to be your teacher, Natalie."
+
+She looked into his eyes, and from her own went out the secret of her
+soul into his keeping; and she had been glad, and the gloomy church had
+been aglow, and as they passed out the sun shone and the heavens smiled
+upon a new world; for she had never seen it thus before.
+
+That was the short chapter of the history of her love. There had been no
+other. He had ravished her secret that he might disdain it, and next day
+had said a stern good-bye, spoken as though forever.
+
+Yet she had dared to come here, though now the impulse was strong upon
+her to turn and flee from a region where he might be met. It was but an
+impulse; for either she must come among these her relatives or return to
+throw herself into the arms of the vacuous hussar who loved her dowry,
+or failing that, into the strife and importunity from which she had
+escaped. Resentful pride, too, came to her aid, bidding her not flee
+from him who had disdained her love, though even so she knew that that
+which had been born within her had been so fondly cherished, had grown
+so mighty, that in the heart it filled there was no room for pride to
+grow with equal strength.
+
+She turned again to the letter in her hand. Her unbelief had never
+stilled the longing to believe, and now, in the hunger of her soul, the
+yearning was strong. But, she asked herself, What was belief? There was
+much glib talk of faith, but what was faith? Could one have faith by
+saying that one had it? Was conviction mere assertion? The letter
+advised her to seek enlightenment at the Throne of God. What meaning
+could the words have except that she was to crave that which she had
+ever craved? Her soul had always cried aloud for knowledge of God. Could
+it be that formal words, repeated kneeling, would compel heaven to give
+ear? Was it thus that people experienced what they called religion? Was
+it so that Miss Claghorn had found it?
+
+Such musings came to an end with her arrival at the White House. She had
+announced her coming by letter, wherefore Tabitha Cone, recognizing the
+identity of the visitor and mentally pronouncing her a "stunner,"
+ushered her into the gloomy parlor, and informed Miss Claghorn that
+"'Liph's daughter" awaited her.
+
+"I decided to call in person before accepting your kind invitation,"
+said the visitor.
+
+"I learn from Ellis Winter that you need a home," replied Miss Achsah, a
+little stiffly, but rather from awe of this blooming creature than from
+dislike.
+
+"I am grateful for your offer of one; but in fairness, I thought you
+should know my reasons for leaving France, and essential that you should
+justify me."
+
+Miss Claghorn assented not ungraciously. The frank demeanor of her
+visitor pleased her. "A Claghorn," was her mental comment, as Natalie
+told her story more in detail than Mr. Winter had done.
+
+"You see," she added to her narrative of the matrimonial pursuit of the
+gallant de Fleury, "he is not a man that I could like, but my
+cousin----"
+
+"You mean this French Markweeze?"
+
+Natalie nodded. "She is a sweet woman, and undoubtedly believed herself
+right in the matter. Then it was, doubtless, a very serious
+disappointment. Lieutenant de Fleury is her son; they are comparatively
+poor; I am not--and so--and so----"
+
+"You were quite right to run away," snapped Miss Achsah, with the
+emphasis born of indignation at this attempt to coerce a Claghorn.
+
+"It must not be forgotten that, from her point of view, my cousin was
+justified in expecting me to carry out a promise made by my father. It
+was this that made her so persistent and induced her to attempt measures
+that were not justifiable. To her I must seem ungrateful for much
+kindness." The girl's eyes glistened with tears. In fact, this view of
+her conduct, which was doubtless the view of the Marquise, affected her
+deeply. She did not state, though aware of the fact, that her own income
+had, during her residence with her French guardian, been mainly used to
+sustain and freshen the very faded glory of the house of Fleury.
+
+"Well, my dear," was the comment of Miss Claghorn, "I have listened to
+your story and justify your course; and now I repeat my invitation."
+
+Had Tabitha Cone seen the gracious manner of the speaker she would have
+been as surprised as was the lady herself. But in the presence of this
+beautiful face, the evident honesty of the narration of the tale she had
+heard, the underlying sadness beneath the serene expression, it would
+have needed a harder nature than Miss Claghorn's to be anything but
+gracious. But she flushed with self-reproach when Natalie touched upon
+what she had for the moment completely forgotten.
+
+"But," exclaimed Natalie, "I have not answered the question in your
+letter. The matter of religion, I was led to believe, would be to you
+most important. It is to so many; the Marquise, Père Martin, Mrs.
+Leon--have all been grieved--I am an infidel."
+
+The coolness with which this statement was made shocked her auditor even
+more than the fact. The perplexed smile upon the girl's face; the
+yearning look, that seemed to recognize something wanting in her, some
+faculty absent which left her without a clew to the cause of the
+successive shocks emanating from her--these things, if only dimly
+appreciated by Miss Claghorn, were sufficiently apparent to make her
+feel as though a weight had fallen upon her heart. "Oh, my child, that
+is an awful thing to say!" she exclaimed.
+
+The way the words were uttered showed that all the tenderness, long
+hidden, of the speaker's nature was suddenly called to life. No
+exhortation ever heard by Natalie had so affected her as this outburst
+of a hard old woman. She seized the other's hand, murmuring, "Dear
+Aunt!" She pitied, even while she envied, the victim of superstition, as
+the God-fearing woman pitied the errant soul. Neither understood the
+source of the other's emotion, but they met in complete sympathy. The
+elder woman pressed the hand that had grasped her own, and leaning
+toward her grand-niece, kissed her affectionately. What old and
+long-dried springs of feeling were awakened in the withered breast as
+the oldest descendant of the Puritan preacher yearned over the youngest
+of the line? Who shall tell? Perhaps the barren motherhood of the
+ancient spinster was stirred for once; perhaps the never-known craving
+for a mother's love moved the younger one. For a time both were silent.
+
+"Come to me to-day, at once," whispered Miss Achsah, blushing, had she
+known it, and quivering strangely.
+
+The heartiness of the invitation troubled the visitor, whose answer was
+less gracious than a chief characteristic required. "I will come
+to-day," she answered. "Let it be understood as a visit only." Then she
+went out, and in the lumbering carriage was driven back to Hampton.
+
+Miss Claghorn watched her from the window. Gradually she was recovering
+herself and secretly feeling mightily ashamed, yet pleased, too. Tabitha
+came in.
+
+"Well?" she asked.
+
+"Well," echoed Miss Claghorn, acidly.
+
+"What are you going to do?"
+
+"Pray," replied the lady, as she ascended the stairs.
+
+"Must have forgot it this morning," was Miss Cone's mental comment.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+WHEREAT CYNICS AND MATRONS MAY SMILE INCREDULOUS.
+
+
+When Natalie returned, Leonard was occupying his old seat in the Square,
+a different man from the man she had met in the earlier morning. He had
+been shocked, grieved, even terrified, and above all ashamed; yet joy
+mingled with his grief, and his consciousness of new manhood was not
+without its glory; and, withal, his breast was filled with a flood of
+tremulous tenderness for the woman, and a longing for her forgiveness.
+His emotions were sufficiently confusing to be vexing, and he had
+striven to give the matter a jaunty aspect. Young men will be young men,
+even when students of divinity, and he had heard more than one tale of
+kisses. He had not much liked such tales, nor the bragging and
+assumption of their tellers; still, a few hours since, he would have
+seen no great offense in kissing a pretty woman; but a few hours since
+he had not known anything about the matter. He was sure now that the
+rakes of his college days, the boasters and conquerors, had been as
+ignorant as he. Otherwise they could not have told of their deeds; the
+thing he had done he could tell no man.
+
+And so, though he had but kissed a woman, he felt that kissing a woman
+was a wonderful thing; and he failed in the attempt to look upon the
+matter airily, as of a little affair that would have in the future a
+flavor of roguishness. It was not a matter to be treated lightly; his
+grief and the stabs of conscience were too sharp for that--yet he had no
+remorse. He was not minded to repeat the act; he had fled from such
+repetition, and he would not repeat it; neither would he regret it. It
+should be a memory, a secret for hidden shame, for hidden pride, for
+grief, for joy.
+
+He intercepted Natalie as she descended from the carriage, and, in a
+brief interview in the hotel parlor, learned of her intention to return
+at once to Miss Claghorn. The carriage was waiting, there was no reason
+for delaying her departure; there was nothing to do but to call the
+maid, and he dispatched a servant to do that. He volunteered to see to
+the immediate transmission of the luggage of the travelers to
+Easthampton, and made thereof an excuse for leaving before the maid
+reappeared; and when once without the hotel door, and on his way to the
+station, he breathed a sigh as of one relieved of a load.
+
+Some days passed and Leonard had not appeared at Easthampton. One
+morning he received the following note from Paula:
+
+     "Dear Leonard--I suppose you are very busy in these last days
+     of the term, and we all excuse your neglect of us. I shall be
+     at the Hampton station on Thursday, having promised to see
+     Natalie's maid (who don't speak English) on the evening train
+     for New York. Perhaps you can meet me and return with me to
+     dinner. Cousin Alice hopes you will."
+
+He was careful not to find Paula until the train had gone, and he had
+assured himself that Berthe was among the passengers. Then he appeared.
+
+"Why, Leonard," exclaimed Paula, "have you been ill?" The tone was full
+of concern. He shrank as if he had been struck.
+
+"No," he said; "a little anxious--troubled."
+
+"Over your freckled, gawky, thickshod theologues; what a pity you're not
+in the Church!"
+
+This kind of outburst on the part of the speaker usually made Leonard
+laugh. To-night his laugh sounded hollow. "I suppose your Episcopalian
+students wear kids and use face powder," he said.
+
+"There's no harm in kid gloves; inner vileness----"
+
+"Is very bad, Paula; we'll not discuss it."
+
+They walked across the Square, on the other side of which she had left
+the carriage. She looked up to his face to seek an explanation of the
+irritation discoverable in his tone; she noted that his hat was drawn
+down over his eyes in a way very unusual. They walked on in silence.
+"You will come with me?" she asked, when they had reached the carriage.
+
+"Not to-night. You are right, I am not very well; it is nothing, I will
+come out this week. Has Natalie discharged her maid?"
+
+"Not for any fault. Mrs. Leon was very glad to get Berthe, and as
+Natalie is situated----"
+
+"I see. I hope she is comfortable with Cousin Achsah."
+
+"They hit it off astonishingly well. The fact is, nobody could help
+loving Natalie--I am surprised that you have not been to see her."
+
+"I know I have seemed negligent. I have a good excuse. Where, in New
+York, does Mrs. Leon live?"
+
+"At the Fifth Avenue Hotel," she replied, wondering at the question.
+
+"Well," he said, after a pause, and treating her answer as though, like
+his question, it was of no real interest. "I must not keep you here. You
+don't mind going home alone?"
+
+"I should be glad of your company; aside from that, I don't mind."
+
+"Then, good-bye," touching her hand for an instant. "Make my excuses to
+Mrs. Joe; I have been really very busy. Home, James." He closed the
+carriage door and walked rapidly away, leaving Paula vexed, to sink back
+in the soft seat and to wonder.
+
+He walked across the Square to the region of shops and entered a large
+grocery store--at this time of day, deserted. "Could you give me a bill
+for fifty dollars?" he asked of the cashier.
+
+"I believe I can, Professor," replied the official, drawing one from the
+desk, and exchanging it for the smaller bills handed him by Leonard, who
+thanked him and went out. That night he enclosed the single bill in an
+envelope, and addressed it to Mademoiselle Berthe, in care of Mrs. Leon.
+
+As he could have told no man why he had done this, so he could not tell
+himself why. Cynics and matrons may smile incredulous, but the kiss he
+had given and received had wrought an upheaval in this man's soul. He
+who defers his kissing until he has reached maturity has much to learn,
+and if the learning comes in a sudden burst of light in still and quiet
+chambers, that have until now been dark, the man may well be dazzled.
+
+He did not think her sordid. He hoped she would understand that he sent
+her that which he believed would be of use to her. But when, a week
+later, he received a little box and found within it an exquisite pin,
+which he, unlearned in such matters, still knew must have cost a large
+part of the sum he had sent her, he was pleased, and a thrill passed
+through him. Like him, she would remember, nor in her mind would there
+be any thought but one of tenderness for a day that could never come
+again. It would be a fair memory that would trouble him no more, but
+would remain forever fair, of her who had opened to him the portals of a
+new and beautiful world.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+IN THE WHITE HOUSE, A DAMSEL OR THE DEVIL--WHICH?
+
+
+When Paula had said to Leonard that Natalie and Miss Claghorn "hit it
+off astonishingly well," she had fairly indicated the harmonious
+relations prevailing at the White House, as well as the general
+astonishment that the elder lady had so graciously received a religious
+outcast. It was true that Miss Achsah's innate benevolence was
+habitually shrouded in uncompromising orthodoxy, a tough and
+non-diaphanous texture, not easily penetrable by futile concern for
+souls preordained to eternal death; but Natalie was of her own blood,
+one of a long line of elect; furthermore, she had not been seduced by
+the blandishments of the Great Serpent, but had cast her lot, where it
+truly belonged, among Claghorns; and, finally, the oldest bearer of that
+name was doubtless influenced by the fact that the girl was motherless
+and friendless, and that she herself, paying the penalty of
+independence, was, except as to Tabitha Cone, with whom she lived in
+strife, alone.
+
+Miss Cone also approved of the visitor. This had been originally an
+accident. Like the rest of the little world interested, Tabitha had
+supposed that Miss Claghorn's reception of a foreign and atheistical
+daughter of Beverley Claghorn would be as ungracious as was compatible
+with humanity; wherefore Tabitha had been prepared, for her part, to be
+extremely affable, foreseeing, with joy, many a battle with her
+benefactress wherein she would have an ally; but, taken unawares, by the
+time she had grasped the unexpected situation, she had become too
+sincere in her admiration to change her role. She chose, however, to
+announce an estimate of Natalie's character differing from that of Miss
+Claghorn. "She's a Beverley down to her shins," was Miss Cone's
+verdict.
+
+"As much of a Beverley as you are a Claghorn," was Miss Achsah's tart
+rejoinder.
+
+"Which, thank the Lord, I'm not. One's enough in one house. For my part,
+I don't admire your strong characters."
+
+"So that your admiration of Natalie is all pretense. I'm not surprised."
+
+"She strong! Poor dove, she's Susan Beverley to the life." Which may
+have been true, though dove-like Natalie was not.
+
+Miss Claghorn made no reply except by means of a contradictory snort.
+
+"Now," gravely continued the inwardly jubilant Tabitha, "I call Paula
+Lynford a strong character. There's a girl that'll get what she's
+after."
+
+Something ominous in the manner of the speaker arrested the sneer on its
+way. "What do you mean?" asked Miss Achsah.
+
+"What do all girls want--though, to be sure, you've had no experience,"
+observed Tabitha (who had once contemplated marriage with a mariner, who
+had escaped by drowning)--"a husband."
+
+Miss Claghorn laughed. "Very likely. But Paula's husband will need a
+dispensation--from the Pope, I suppose--since he calls himself a
+Catholic."
+
+Tabitha echoed the laugh, less nervously and with palpable and unholy
+enjoyment. "You mean her cap's set for Father Cameril. She's been
+throwing dust in your eyes. She's after a minister, sure enough, but not
+that one."
+
+"What do you mean, Tabitha Cone?" The tone of the question usually had
+the effect of cowing Tabitha, but the temptation was too strong to be
+resisted.
+
+"I mean Leonard Claghorn."
+
+Miss Achsah gasped. "You slanderous creature," she exclaimed, "Leonard
+will never marry a mock-papist--demure puss!"
+
+"Leonard'll marry to suit himself, and not his forty-fifth cousin." And
+with this Tabitha escaped, leaving a rankling arrow.
+
+As an "atheist," Natalie was a surprise to both inmates of the White
+House. Their ideas of atheistic peculiarities were probably vague, but
+each had regarded the arrival of the unbeliever with dread. Tabitha had
+foreboded profanity, perhaps even inebriety, depravity certainly, and
+she had been quite "upset," to use her own expression, by the reality.
+Miss Claghorn, with due respect for family traits, had never shared
+Tabitha's worst fears, but she had anticipated a very different kind of
+person from the person that Natalie actually was. She had pictured a
+hard, cynical, intellectual creature, critical as to the shortcomings of
+creation, full of "science," and pertly obtrusive with views. She had
+feared theological discussion, and though convinced that her armory
+(comprised in Dr. Hodge's "Commentary on the Confession of Faith") was
+amply furnished to repel atheistic assault, yet she dreaded the onset,
+having, perhaps, some distrust of her own capacity for handling her
+weapons.
+
+But the atheist was neither scientific nor argumentative. She was so
+graceful, so amiable, in short, so charming, that both old women were
+quickly won; so gay that both were surprised to hear their own laughter.
+Sufficiently foreign to be of continual interest, and so pleased and
+entertained with her new surroundings that they would have been churlish
+indeed not to accept her pleasure as flattering to themselves.
+
+At times, indeed, both had misgivings. The devil is abroad, and it was
+conceivable that in the form of this seductive creature he had
+audaciously invaded the White House for prey, such as rarely fell into
+his toils; but each spinster was too sure of her own call and election
+to fear the enemy of souls on her individual account, and Miss Claghorn
+doubted whether even the temerity of Satan would suffice for the
+hopeless attempt to capture an orthodox Claghorn; and this assurance
+aided the belief that Natalie, herself of the elect race, was neither
+the devil's emissary, nor in the direful peril that had been feared. She
+might think herself an infidel, but her time was not yet come, that was
+all.
+
+"I am sure she has workings of the spirit," she observed to Tabitha.
+"She's not always as lighthearted as you think."
+
+"I don't happen to think it. A good deal of that's put on."
+
+"Everybody don't experience grace as early as you and I."
+
+"Specially not in Paris," assented Miss Cone.
+
+"She was surely guided of the Lord in leaving the influence of Romanism
+to----"
+
+"'Cording to your view she hasn't escaped yet; there's St. Perpetua----"
+
+"She's too true a Claghorn to be led into that folly."
+
+"I don't know," observed Miss Cone meditatively, "that the Claghorns are
+less foolish than other people. There was 'Liph, her father; 'n there's
+Lettie Stanley--then your brother. St. Perpetua's his monument, you
+know."
+
+"Joseph would never have approved St. Perpetua. If he'd been a Catholic,
+it wouldn't have been an imitation."
+
+"His wife ought to know the kind of monument he would have liked. I've
+known the Claghorns long enough to know----"
+
+"You've known some of 'em, to your eternal welfare, Tabitha Cone."
+
+"I'm not aware that the family was consulted when my election was
+foreordained. You think well of 'em, and I won't deny their good
+qualities--but I guess the Almighty didn't have to wait until their
+creation to manage."
+
+"You seem very sure of election. I hope you are not to be disappointed,
+but you might accept the fact with some humility."
+
+"Your brother, Natalie's grandfather, had a license to preach--I'm not
+aware that you have--he taught me that the fact was to be accepted with
+joy and gladness."
+
+"Joy and gladness are not inconsistent with humility."
+
+"I'm not denyin' your right to be joyful, but your right to preach."
+
+"Tabitha Cone, you'd try the patience of a saint!"
+
+"_If_ I had the opportunity!" And so, with whetted swords they plunged
+into the fray.
+
+The newcomer was graciously welcomed at Stormpoint, though Paula
+bewailed her selection of abode, tending, as it did, to frustrate
+certain plans, which were to result in alluring Natalie to the
+sheltering arms of St. Perpetua. Paula was confident of the courage of
+Father Cameril, but even a brave man may hesitate to pluck a jewel from
+the den of a lion, and she knew that to such a den the good Father
+likened the home of Miss Claghorn.
+
+But Mrs. Joe approved Natalie's choice. "Miss Achsah's her blood
+relation," she said.
+
+"What is blood? An accident. Friendship is born of sympathy," protested
+Paula.
+
+"And since that is the basis of our friendship," observed Natalie, "you
+will understand that when my grand-aunt offered me a home on the ground
+of duty, I also recognized a duty."
+
+"A home on the ground of duty," repeated Paula, with as near an approach
+to a sneer as she was capable of effecting.
+
+"Could she feel affection, who had never seen me? Remember, she stood in
+the place of mother to my father. I fear she had reason to believe that
+the fact had been forgotten."
+
+Mrs. Joe nodded approval.
+
+"Inclination would have led me to you," Natalie proceeded. "It may be,
+too, that I was influenced by the hope that I might, in some degree,
+brighten the life of an old woman who had outlived her near relations. I
+remembered how Cousin Jared, whom we all liked so well, reverenced her.
+And then, I approved her pride in the name. I, too, am a Claghorn."
+
+"In short," commented Mrs. Joe, "you recognized a duty, as I believed
+you would, and you did right. Good will come of it," she added, "a bond
+between the houses."
+
+Nevertheless, the lady's conscience was troubled. She was naturally
+candid and hospitable, yet in respect to Natalie, she had done violence
+to both attributes. In that invitation, sent in accordance with her
+promise to Paula, she had been careful to recognize the prior claim of
+Miss Claghorn, thus virtually indicating Natalie's proper course. It had
+been hard for her to close the gates of Stormpoint upon one whom she
+regarded with affection, yet Mr. Hacket's counsel had outweighed
+inclination. That gentleman was, indeed, teaching some hard lessons to
+the lady of Stormpoint. It was almost unbearable that this wooden and
+yellow man, who secretly aroused all the antagonism of which she was
+capable, should direct her domestic affairs; yet she bore it smilingly,
+as was seemly in a politician, whose skin may smart, but who must grin.
+For, Mr. Hacket's command was wise. To add an infidel to her household
+of religious suspects would be a rash act which Hampton might not
+forgive. She had no doubt that Natalie's unbelief would become known,
+and if it did not, the fact that she was French would presuppose
+Romanism, and excite comment. Were Stormpoint to harbor a Papist, one
+concerning whom there could be no saving doubt, such as existed for its
+present inmates, all her plans might be jeopardized. In the eyes of the
+descendants of the Puritans, the adherents of St. Perpetua would be
+convicted as followers of the scarlet woman, and if the red rag of
+Romanism were flaunted in seeming defiance, Mark's incipient career of
+statesmanship might meet with a serious check.
+
+On the other hand, there was comfort in the thought that all unpleasant
+possibilities would be avoided by Natalie's sojourn with Miss Achsah.
+Infidel or Romanist, in whatever light regarded, the dwellers in
+Easthampton would know with approval that the competent owner of the
+White House had the stray sheep in charge, and would anticipate
+triumphant rescue of the endangered soul, providentially sheltered where
+food of life would be daily offered. There would be also general
+satisfaction that to Miss Achsah had been given a task worthy the
+exercise of those energies which, in the cause of truth, she was apt to
+exhibit in domestic circles not her own, to the great terror of the
+members thereof. Mrs. Joe, herself, could find occasion to evince
+commendation of the expected efforts of Miss Claghorn, and, while
+placating that lady, could emphasize her own Protestantism. In fact,
+several birds might be slain with this single stone.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+SUR LE PONT D'AVIGNON ON Y DANSE, ON Y DANSE.
+
+
+It was, perhaps, because she was conscience-stricken that Mrs. Joe
+essayed to make atonement to Natalie by being especially confiding with
+her. We know, also, that she saw an opportunity of strengthening those
+bonds between Stormpoint and the White House, which Mr. Hacket insisted
+it was advisable to make as close as possible; for it became day by day
+more evident that Miss Achsah had taken her new inmate into her heart of
+hearts; other motives there may have been; certain it is that next to
+her yellow adviser, whom she loathed with a deeper loathing each time
+that she saw him anew, she opened her heart to Natalie in regard to
+those cherished projects which concerned Mark.
+
+"I want to see him famous," she said. "It will be harder for him than
+for others, because of this wretched money."
+
+"He has more talent than most, and, I think, sincerity," replied
+Natalie, pausing on the last word.
+
+The elder lady looked sharply at the speaker. The two were alone
+together; occasionally they could hear the strains of Paula's organ from
+the distant music-room. "You saw much of him after he left the
+University?" she questioned.
+
+"Yes, he was with us constantly for a time." The widow had a fine sense
+of hearing, which she strained to the utmost to note what might be told
+in the tone that remained untold by the words. She was quite aware that
+Mark had been for weeks a daily visitor, if not an actual inmate, of the
+household of Beverley Claghorn. She had herself arranged that it should
+be so; but she had not then feared possibilities, which had engaged her
+thoughts a good deal since she had heard of the rupture between the
+Marquise and Natalie. The tone of the girl's voice told her nothing, and
+the eyes that met her own were serene.
+
+"I wished Mark to remain abroad until Stormpoint was complete. I wished
+to surprise him, and impress him with the fact that I am in earnest,
+that this place is but a means to an end."
+
+"It is a beautiful and a fitting home for what he is and aspires to be."
+
+"It will help. What has he said to you about Stormpoint?"
+
+"You forget that I have not seen him since he made its acquaintance."
+
+"Surely he was not so neglectful as not to write!"
+
+"He wrote to my father. I don't recall what he said about Stormpoint."
+
+The eyes bent upon the girl, who looked steadily out of the window at
+the sea, were keen and questioning. "Pardon me, Natalie, I hope the
+breach between you and the Marquise is not irreparable," said the lady
+softly.
+
+Natalie looked up smiling. "Indeed, I hope not. I am not angry with her,
+though she is with me."
+
+"I can hardly be sorry that you disappointed her--I never fancied her
+lieutenant--but I was surprised. I had supposed the matter settled with
+your consent."
+
+"My dear father, it seems, did so arrange it. I quite appreciate her
+standpoint and know that she has much to forgive. Naturally, she
+approves of the customs of her country. Unfortunately, I was not trained
+strictly _à la mode Française_."
+
+"The French custom as regards betrothal is repulsive; but I supposed you
+were French--and----"
+
+"I must have inherited independent views. I might have acquiesced had I
+not seen too much of Adolphe. You are not to think badly of him--only
+that he is unendurable."
+
+"That is more damning than faint praise," laughed Mrs. Joe; "but I
+understand. Well, my dear, since you decline to become a 'female
+Markis,' as Mr. Weller has it, we must do as well for you as possible in
+a republic that offers no nobles."
+
+"I am quite content with things as they are."
+
+"That, of course, is eminently proper; but we are all slaves of destiny
+and there is one always possible to maidens. We shall select a permanent
+city home as soon as I can consult Mark; meanwhile we shall not spend
+our winters here; and in the winter Miss Achsah must reward our
+forbearance by surrendering you to us."
+
+"I shall be glad to be with you and Paula sometimes; but, Mrs. Joe, you
+know I am only visiting my aunt. I intend to have a home of my own."
+
+"That will come. Perhaps it will be with me for a time, if you can bear
+with another old woman. Mark and Paula will want their own
+establishment. Of course, they'll have Stormpoint."
+
+She had sped her bolt. If it had been needless, it was harmless; if it
+had wounded, so much the more was it needed. But she felt mean--in the
+proper frame to meet Mr. Hacket, who was announced, to the relief of
+both.
+
+The distant organ notes must have been pleasing to the ear, for, after
+Mrs. Joe had gone, Natalie sat long, listening and motionless; they must
+have been tender, for tears glistened in her eyes. When they ceased she
+rose and left the room and the house. In the grounds she found Paula,
+who said, "I came out at this moment, and saw that," pointing to the
+buggy; "then I knew that you would soon be here."
+
+They strolled to a sheltered nook of the cliffside, and thence looked
+out upon the silver sea, peaceful under the summer sky.
+
+"One could hardly believe that it could ever be angry," said Paula, "but
+you shall see it in fury; then it will be awful."
+
+"It is awful now."
+
+"Now!" exclaimed Paula. "Why, it is as serene as the sky above it."
+
+"But think what it hides. Listen to the moan; see the swell of its heavy
+sighs."
+
+"Natalie, I have discovered something!"
+
+"Like Columbus," laughed Natalie.
+
+"You are like the sea to-day. The surface wavelets laugh in the glint of
+the sun; but sadness is beneath. The sea hides sorrow; and you are so.
+You and Mark----"
+
+And there she stopped. The other knew why. Paula was looking straight at
+her face, and she knew that her face had suddenly told a story.
+
+"Does the sea remind you of Mark?" she asked in even tones, guarding her
+secret in her manner of utterance.
+
+"Of both of you," answered Paula, who had quickly turned a somewhat
+troubled gaze upon the water. "Natalie," she added, rather hurriedly,
+"there is a balm for every sorrow, a sure one. _That_"--she slightly
+emphasized the word--"is why I thought of you in connection with Mark.
+Ah, if he were only religious!"
+
+"Then he would be perfect, you think." She laughed, and Paula laughed,
+but the merriment seemed hollow.
+
+"Nobody can be perfect," said Paula, after the pause which had followed
+the unmeaning mirth. She spoke in a low tone and timidly, but for that
+reason all the more engagingly; "but so far as perfection can be
+attained, it can only be with the aid of religion."
+
+It was one of the words in season, which Natalie had become accustomed
+to hear from those about her, and which from this exhorter she always
+liked to hear. There was an atmosphere of calm about Paula and a
+serenity in her face which fascinated the unbeliever. And her
+admonitions, if timidly uttered, were sincere. It was as though the
+young preacher, though longing for a convert, feared to frighten the
+disciple away.
+
+Natalie bent over and kissed the girl's cheek. "Is he unhappy? Mark, I
+mean."
+
+"His life is evidence that he is not happy. He wanders aimlessly. Cousin
+Alice built Stormpoint for him, yet he leaves it."
+
+"His large interests compel his wanderings."
+
+"He has agents who make them unnecessary. Cousin Alice needs him."
+
+"You would be glad to have him home?"
+
+Paula looked up; her sparkling eyes answered the question. There was a
+pause.
+
+"I hope he will come," said Natalie, after awhile, "and that you will
+have your wish."
+
+"That he will become religious? I pray for it, so it must come."
+
+Natalie took her hand and held it. "And you believe that religion
+insures happiness?" She was willing to hold on to this topic.
+
+"I know it. The peace of God which passeth understanding. Do not turn
+from it, Natalie."
+
+"I do not. I am not a scoffer. I think that I, too, could love God, only
+I am densely ignorant."
+
+"But you can be enlightened. Father Cameril----"
+
+Natalie smiled. "I hardly think he would be the teacher I would choose.
+I would prefer you."
+
+"To enlighten your ignorance! I am myself ignorant. I believe--I know no
+more." This sounded prettily from pretty lips, and Paula was honest;
+but, as a matter of fact, she had some theological pretensions, a truth
+which she for the moment forgot.
+
+"How is that possible?" asked the infidel. "I could believe, if I knew."
+
+"We cannot understand everything."
+
+"No--almost nothing, therefore----"
+
+"We have a revelation."
+
+"Which reveals nothing to me. I wish it did."
+
+"Natalie, you demand too much. We are not permitted to know everything.
+We cannot be divine."
+
+"And yet we can speak very positively; as if, indeed, we knew it
+all--some of us. But if nobody knows, nobody can be sure."
+
+"I cannot argue; but I can tell you who tells me. God Himself. God
+speaks to the heart."
+
+"Paula," cried the other, with startling earnestness, "I, too, have a
+heart. Teach me how to believe, and of all the wise you will be the
+wisest. Do I not know that life is barren? that the love of man cannot
+fill the heart? Ah! Paula, if that can do it, teach me the love of God!"
+
+The tone rose almost to a cry. Paula was awed as a perception of the
+truth came upon her that here was a skeptic with religious longings
+greater than her own. "Natalie," she murmured, hiding her face on the
+shoulder of her companion, "we are told to ask. Pray, Natalie, to the
+One that knows it all."
+
+"And will you pray for me?"
+
+"I do."
+
+"And do you pray for Mark?"
+
+"Surely."
+
+"And you know that my prayers will be answered?"
+
+"I know it--in God's good time."
+
+"I will pray, Paula."
+
+They kissed one another, as though sealing a compact. No doubt Paula
+breathed a petition for her who, still in darkness, craved for light.
+Natalie prayed for the happiness of Mark Claghorn, and that she might
+forget him and resign him to the saint whose lips she pressed.
+
+Then she went home. In the hall of the White House she met Tabitha.
+"Come!" she exclaimed, seizing that elderly damsel about the waist.
+"_Dansons_, Tabitha; hop, skip! _Sur le pont d'Avignon on y danse, on y
+danse!_" and she trilled her lay and whirled the astonished spinster
+around until both were breathless.
+
+"My sakes! Have you gone crazy?" exclaimed Tabitha.
+
+"Come to my senses!" replied Natalie, laughing merrily.
+
+"I never saw you so French before," was Tabitha's comment.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+WARBLINGS IN THE WHITE HOUSE AND SNARES FOR A SOUL.
+
+
+Achsah Claghorn, for many years lonely, with maternal instincts steadily
+suppressed, had found the first opportunity of a long life to gratify
+cravings of which she had been until now unconscious. Coyly, even with
+trembling, she sought the love of her grand-niece, being herself
+astonished, as much as she astonished others, by an indulgent tenderness
+seemingly foreign to her character. Grandmothers, though once severe as
+mothers, are often overfond in their last maternal role, and it may be
+that Miss Claghorn pleased herself by the fiction of a relationship
+which, though not actually existent, had some foundation in long-past
+conditions.
+
+"Did your father never speak of me?" she asked.
+
+"Often, Aunt. Especially of late years, after we had met Cousin Jared."
+
+"But not with much affection?"
+
+Natalie was somewhat at a loss. "He said you were his second mother,"
+was her reply.
+
+"Poor Susan--that was your grandmother, my dear. She was a gentle,
+loving creature. I think now, though perhaps I did not at the time, that
+'Liph was lonely after she died. Ours was a dull house," she continued,
+after a pause. "Your grandfather lived more in heaven than on earth,
+which made it gloomy for us that didn't. Saints are not comfortable to
+live with, and 'Liph was often in disgrace. I hope I was never hard to a
+motherless boy, but--but----"
+
+"I am sure you were not. My father never said so."
+
+"Yet he forgot me. Perhaps it was pleasanter not to remember."
+
+There was no reply to make. Natalie knew that her father had been so
+well content to forget his relatives that, until the unexpected meeting
+in Germany, her own knowledge of the Claghorns had been very vague.
+
+"'Liph did write me when he married, even promised to come and see me,
+but he never came."
+
+Miss Claghorn forgot the fact that in reply to her nephew's letter she
+had deplored his connection with Romanism and had urged instant
+attention to the duty of converting his wife. The philosopher may have
+justly enough felt that there could be but little sympathy between
+himself and one whose congratulations on his nuptials were in part a
+wail of regret, in part an admonitory sermon.
+
+"You know, Aunt, he did intend to come."
+
+"To see Mrs. Joe--well, no doubt he would have been glad to see me, too.
+I am sorry we never met after so many years."
+
+Besides the tenderness displayed to Natalie alone, there were evidences
+of change in the mistress of the White House, apparent to all; and while
+these were properly ascribed to the new inmate, the fact that that
+influence could work such wonders excited surprise. The neighbors were
+astonished to behold the novel sight of perennially open parlor windows,
+and thought with misgiving upon the effect of sunshine on Miss
+Claghorn's furniture. At times strange sounds issued from the hitherto
+silent dwelling, operatic melodies, or snatches of chansons, trilled
+forth in a foreign tongue. "The tunes actually get into my legs,"
+observed Tabitha to a neighbor. "The sobber de mong pare'd make an elder
+dance," an assertion which astonished the neighbor less than Miss Cone's
+familiarity with the French language. But comment was actually stricken
+dumb when both Miss Claghorn and Tabitha appeared in public with sprigs
+of color in their headgear and visible here and there upon their
+raiment.
+
+"I believe you'd bewitch Old Nick himself," observed Tabitha.
+
+"I have," replied Natalie. "He's promised me a shrub."
+
+"I don't mean Nick that brings the garden sass," and the spinster
+groaned at the benighted condition of one so ignorant as to fail to
+recognize a familiar appellation of the enemy of souls. "You've worked
+your grand-aunt out of a horse."
+
+"Your voice is that of an oracle, Tab, and I, who am stupid, do not
+understand."
+
+"She's going to give you a horse."
+
+"Then should you not rather say that I have worked a horse out of my
+grand-aunt? which is still oracular; wherefore expound, Tab."
+
+"She told me herself. It's my belief she's in love with you. She'd give
+you her head, if you asked."
+
+"She's given me her heart, which is better. And so have you; and you're
+both ashamed of it. Why is that, Tabby?"
+
+"Well," replied Tabitha, making no denial, "you see we're not
+French--thank God! When we were young we were kept down, as was the
+fashion."
+
+"I do not like that fashion."
+
+"You'd like it less if you knew anything about it. It has to come out
+some time; that's the reason your songs get into my legs, and----"
+
+"And?" questioningly, for Tabitha had paused.
+
+"Well, your aunt was never in love--never had the chance, 's far's I
+know; but if she had, it had to be kept down--and now it comes out.
+Lucky it didn't strike an elder with a raft of children and no money."
+
+"Much better that it has struck me than an elder--that will be a friar.
+I have no children, some money and a whole heart. But this tale of a
+horse?"
+
+"Ever since you told us about ridin' in the Bawdy Bolone she's had
+Leonard on the lookout. He's found one over to Moffat's. She wants you
+to look at it before she buys."
+
+"But----"
+
+"I know--you've money of your own to buy horses. That's what she's
+afraid you'll say. You mustn't. She's set her heart on it."
+
+The horse was accepted without demur, if with some secret misgiving as
+to adding a new link to the chain which was binding her to Easthampton;
+and it was peculiarly grateful. Ever since that day when Natalie had
+astonished Tabitha by improvising a waltz, her gaiety had been
+feverish, almost extravagant, the result of a craving for physical
+excitement; the desire to jump, to run, to leap, to execute for
+Tabitha's delectation dances which would have made Miss Claghorn stare.
+The horse in some degree filled the craving. She rode constantly,
+sometimes alone, galloping wildly in secluded lanes; sometimes sedately
+with Paula and an attendant; often with Leonard, an ardent equestrian, a
+fact not forgotten by the donor of the horse when the gift was made.
+
+In the eyes of Miss Achsah, as in other eyes, Leonard embodied the
+finest type of the fine race to which he belonged, combining in his
+person physical graces not generally vouchsafed to these favorites of
+heaven, as well as those nobler attributes with which they had been so
+liberally endowed, and which rendered them worthy of the celestial
+preference. It was religious to believe that these graces of person and
+of manner were not given without a purpose, and aided by the same pious
+deduction which usually recognizes in similar charms a snare of Satan,
+Miss Claghorn beheld in this instance a device of Providence for winning
+a soul.
+
+Besides the facilities for conversion thus utilized, Miss Achsah
+discerned other grounds for hope. In the frequent lapses into
+thoughtfulness, even sadness, on the part of the unbeliever, she
+recognized the beginning of that spiritual agitation which was to result
+in the complete submission of the erring soul to heaven; nor was she
+negligent in dropping those words which, dropped in season, may afford
+savory and sustaining food to a hungry spirit. Had Natalie displayed
+that mental agony and tribulation which naturally accompanies the fear
+of hell, and which is, therefore, a frequent preliminary terror of
+conversion, Miss Claghorn would have called in her pastor, as in
+physical ills she would have called in the doctor; but since Natalie
+displayed nothing more than frequent thoughtfulness and melancholy, and,
+as with some natures (and the lady knew it was true of the Claghorn
+nature) antagonism is aroused by over-solicitude, she easily persuaded
+herself that, for the present at least, the case was better in the
+competent hands of Leonard, to whom she solemnly confided it. She feared
+the treatment of a more experienced, yet perhaps harsher practitioner,
+whose first idea would be the necessity of combating Romanism. For the
+secret of Natalie's unbelief remained undisclosed, and Miss Claghorn
+dreaded such disclosure as sure to bring disgrace upon the family name.
+Finally, she had another reason, not the least important, for providing
+Leonard with the chance of winning that soul, which she hoped would
+become for him the most precious of the souls of men.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+THE SECRET OF HER HEART WAS NEVER TO BE TOLD BY HER TO HIM.
+
+
+"She must be warned from Father Cameril," said Miss Claghorn.
+
+"Do you suppose _he_ could influence her?" observed Leonard scornfully.
+"I shall not forget my duty, Cousin Achsah. Meanwhile, remember that she
+is a Claghorn. That means something."
+
+"A great deal; still, there was her father--and Lettie Stanley----"
+
+"I think you are rather hard on her. I believe that Mrs. Stanley is a
+good woman."
+
+"Will goodness alone attain heaven?"
+
+Leonard did not answer. Mrs. Stanley's chances of heaven had no great
+interest for him.
+
+If he seemed somewhat less solicitous than Miss Claghorn had expected it
+was because already his musings were tending in a direction not
+theological. "How lovely she is!" This had been his thought on his first
+visit to Easthampton, while Natalie's little hand still lay in his in
+welcome. He noted, as he watched her afterward, the fitful sadness of
+her eyes, and longed to share her unknown sorrow. He saw the ripe red
+lips and his bosom glowed, his eyes grew dreamy and his cheeks flushed
+pink. He had never, so Paula averred, been as handsome as on that
+evening.
+
+He was now a daily visitor, equally welcome at the White House or at
+Stormpoint, and the relations between the two establishments were such
+that a hope arose within the bosom of Mrs. Joe that she might be able to
+report to Mr. Hacket that Miss Claghorn had actually dined with the
+Bishop. She ventured to confide to Miss Achsah certain aspirations in
+regard to Mark, and her confidence was well received and her plans
+applauded. Miss Claghorn thought it fitting that Mark, who was nearer
+to her in blood than Leonard, should assume in worldly affairs that
+eminence which in higher matters would be Leonard's. It was plain that
+when the time came such influence as she possessed would be used in
+Mark's behalf, barring some untoward circumstance, which Mrs. Joe was
+resolved should not occur. And to prevent it she warned Father Cameril
+that his wiles were not to be practised upon Natalie. His prayers, her
+own and Paula's, she informed him, must, for the present, suffice. She
+was aware that Miss Claghorn had personally taken charge of a matter
+which, to do Mrs. Joe justice, she regarded as of supreme importance.
+But, St. Perpetua notwithstanding, her opinions were liberal. She
+supposed that good people went to heaven, and she was not sternly rigid
+in her definition of goodness. As to where bad people went, her ideas
+were vague. She did not question Miss Claghorn's Christianity, though
+she did not admire its quality, but she knew that on the first attempt
+to entice Natalie by the allurements presented by St. Perpetua, the
+bonds of amity now existing would be strained. She even went so far as
+to assure her sister-in-law that Father Cameril should be "kept in his
+place," an assurance which was accepted with the grim rejoinder that it
+were well that he be so kept.
+
+Wherefore, it would seem that those exalted aspirations which had warmed
+Leonard's bosom, when he had learned from Paula that his French cousin
+was to be a resident of Easthampton, would be reawakened, and that he
+would gladly attempt their realization. Alas! other, and more alluring
+visions, engaged his senses.
+
+To say that he had loved the maid, Berthe, is only to say that which
+would be true of any man of similar temperament under similar
+circumstances. The kiss of those lips, over which he had so rapturously
+lingered, had been his first taste of passion. It may be a sorrowful,
+but it is not a surprising, fact, that it should affect him violently
+and color his dreams of a sentiment hitherto unknown. He had taken a
+long step in a pathway which was to lead him far, though he was as
+ignorant of the fact as he was of the fact that, in this respect, his
+education had commenced unfortunately.
+
+He was sufficiently a man of the world to be aware that the emotion in
+which he had reveled could have no satisfactory result. He would no more
+have considered the advisability of marrying Natalie's maid than would
+the Marquis de Fleury; and as to any other possibility, such as
+perchance might have occupied the mind of the noble Marquis, it never
+even entered his thoughts. In his ignorance he was innocent, and had he
+been less so, would still have possessed in the moral lessons of his
+training a sufficient safeguard. Yet the kiss was to have its results.
+Woman's lips would, to him, bear a different aspect from that of
+heretofore.
+
+And so the days passed very happily, though Leonard's conscience often
+pricked him. Natalie's soul was still in danger.
+
+"Cousin," he said one day--they were sitting among the trees of
+Stormpoint, the girl sketching, he watching her--"Do you----?" He
+stopped, blushing.
+
+She thought the blush very engaging as she looked up with a smile. Women
+rarely looked upon the handsome, innocent face, except smilingly. "Do I
+what, Leonard?" she asked.
+
+"Do you ever think of religion? I am a clergyman, Natalie."
+
+"I think a great deal of religion." Her eyes fell before his. He had
+touched a secret corner of her heart, and at first she shrank; yet the
+touch pleased her; not less so because of his manner which, though he
+was secretly ashamed of it, was in his favor. It was not easy for him to
+discuss the topic with her, to play the role of teacher and enlarge upon
+a theme which was far from his thoughts. The fact lent him the grace of
+embarrassment, leading her to believe that the topic was to him a sacred
+one. Truly, her soul was burdened. Who more apt to aid her than this
+young devotee, who had consecrated a life to that knowledge for which
+she yearned?
+
+"You know, Natalie, as a minister----"
+
+"It is your duty to convert me," she interrupted, looking again upward,
+and smiling. "That is what Tabitha says."
+
+"Perhaps Tabitha is right. I think I ought."
+
+"Suppose you were to try, what would you have me do?"
+
+What would he have her do? The man within him cried: "I would have you
+love me, kiss me, pillow my head upon your breast and let me die there!"
+But the man within him was audible only to him. "I would advise you to
+read"--he stopped. What he had been about to say was so utterly
+incongruous--to advise reading the Westminster Confession, when he
+longed to call upon her to read the secrets of his soul!
+
+"I have read enough," she answered. "Lately I have done better"--she
+hesitated; he noted the flushed cheek and downcast eyes, the tremulous
+tone of her voice. She was affected, he believed, religiously. He
+remembered the day on the terrace of Heidelberg, when he had so yearned
+over the wandering soul, and again with his love--for he knew it was
+love, and always had been--was mingled the higher aspiration to
+reconcile the wayward spirit with its Maker. He would have taken her
+hand, but he felt tremulously shy. "What have you done?" he asked
+gently.
+
+Much had been told her of the sweet relief of confession to a priest.
+Here was a confessor, sympathetic, she knew from his tone. Yet she had
+no sins to confess (belief in which incongruity demonstrates her state
+of darkness).
+
+"I--have prayed," she said at length, and the shy admission seemed to
+create a bond between them. Another shared her confidence, and the fact
+lightened her spirit. She told herself it was so, and had it been true
+the future might have been brighter; but the real secret of her heart
+was never to be told by her to him. She looked up, a faint sheen of
+tears in her eyes, a smile upon her lips.
+
+"Indeed, you have done better," he answered, the eyes and the smile
+summoning that inner man with a power hard to resist. "You need no
+guidance from me," he said huskily. "God bless and help you, Natalie!"
+He placed a trembling hand upon her head, as was seemly in a priest,
+and, turning abruptly, walked away.
+
+"Ah!" she sighed, as she watched him. "There must be something in
+religion. Fräulein Rothe was right, and my dear father was wrong."
+
+Thus Leonard's fears concerning Natalie's salvation were quieted. If she
+prayed, it was plain that she was called, and though her ears might
+still be deaf, she would hear in the appointed time.
+
+Had he comprehended her utter misapprehension as to orthodox tenets, he
+might have been awakened to a stricter sense of duty. But this was his
+first heathen, and he is hardly to be blamed that he did not recognize
+the extent of her ignorance; or, in his lack of knowledge of humanity,
+at all to be blamed that he failed to discern the true nature of her
+religious cravings, alluring to her soul because her soul was hungry;
+for God, perhaps--for who shall say that God has no part in human
+love?--but not for Leonard's God. He had never been informed of the
+deceased philosopher's method of training, and would, certainly, have
+doubted its success had he known of it. That one could attain years of
+discretion in a Christian country, lacking even an elementary knowledge
+of Christian doctrine, would have been to Leonard incredible. He could
+not remember the time that he had not known that in Adam's fall we all
+fell, and that had there been no Atonement there would be no Salvation.
+For so much, and similar doctrinal essentials, he accorded Natalie full
+credit; and, since she had escaped the taint of Romanism, he felt that
+no real obstacle stood in the way of her growth in grace.
+
+Meanwhile, Natalie had no more knowledge that, unless her name had been
+from before creation inscribed upon the roll of the elect, she must, for
+the glory of God, infallibly be damned, than has a Patagonian. She felt
+that outside of humanity there was something on which humanity must
+lean, and that it was God. Priests, sisters of charity and sweet girls
+like Paula knew about God, and all these had told her that the way to
+find out what they knew was to pray; and, in her outer darkness, she
+prayed, her prayers the prayers of a heathen; not heard in heaven, if we
+are correctly informed as to heaven's willingness to hear. Yet to her
+they brought some solace. And in her petitions for enlightenment of her
+ignorance, she besought happiness for others, not for Mark Claghorn
+only; henceforth she included the name of Leonard.
+
+As for him, he was no longer haunted by troublesome recollections of
+Berthe. He thought of her, it is true, and with tenderness, though with
+a smile, and accusing himself of youthfulness. He was now sure that he
+had never seriously loved her. It had been a _penchant_, a _petit
+amour_--the Gallic flavor of the words was not altogether
+ungrateful--and the experience would have its uses. These things
+happened to some men; happy they who escaped them; a humdrum life was
+safer. Sinning was dangerous; to weaklings, fatal; such a one would have
+been burned in the ordeal of fire. He had escaped, nor had he any
+intention of being again taken unawares. He did not attempt to palliate
+the grave wrong of which he had been guilty; he would have resented such
+palliation on the part of an apologist. In certain sins there lurks a
+tinge of glory, and one has a right, accepting the blame, to appropriate
+the glory. But his resolve that the one misstep should be the last, as
+it had been the first of his life, was sternly made. He was strong now,
+and was glad to admit that much of his strength derived its power from a
+sweeter passion glowing in his bosom. His heart swelled with joy that he
+could love, feeling only such misgivings as lovers must. It was a sin to
+love and long for Berthe whom he wouldn't marry. To transfer to Natalie
+the love he had given to Berthe, to hunger and to burn, to feed his eyes
+upon the outward form, unheeding the fairer creature within, to revel in
+visions and forbidden dreams--this was love, this the lesson his
+carefully guarded life had prepared him to learn from wanton lips.
+
+Who, being in love, has not shown himself to the loved one at his best?
+If he was unquiet within, he was sufficiently tranquil in manner to
+avoid any startling manifestation of ardor. If there was art in the
+graceful coyness of his approach, it was unconscious art. To Natalie he
+appeared with more alluring gentleness, and surer fascination, than the
+most practised veteran of love's battles. She had seen chivalrous
+elegance so studied as to charm by its seeming unaffectedness; but the
+most successful picture is not reality, and in Leonard she noted the
+nature superior to art; nature softened and adorned by demeanor graced
+and made tender by the inward tremors of love, as a rugged landscape is
+beautified by the mellow tint of a gray day.
+
+Above all, though if this was known in secret it was unconfessed, was
+Leonard aided by that which was to be forever hidden in the woman's
+heart. There were rumors of Mark's return, rumors which agitated
+Natalie, strive as she might to look forward to that return without
+emotion. How could she leave the home where love had been so generously
+bestowed? Mrs. Joe would no longer be ashamed that she had given her
+warning--and Natalie had not been sorry to believe that the lady was
+ashamed--for she would know that it had been needed. And Miss
+Claghorn--how would she understand it? How Paula? Perhaps she saw, if
+but dimly yet, an escape from the perplexities which inspired the
+questions.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+A LOVER WRITES A LETTER.
+
+
+If a Parisian philosopher, animated by the love of that wisdom which is
+deducible by philosophic methods from the study of mankind, had emerged
+from his abode, on a certain summer evening, in quest of the solution of
+that great riddle, Why is this thus? and, seeking an answer, had scanned
+the visages of the passers upon the Boulevard, he would, perhaps, have
+noticed the face and bearing of a man who strolled alone and listless;
+and, it being a fine evening of early summer, at an hour when,
+philosophers having dined, are ruminative, he might have fallen into
+speculation, and asking himself the meaning of this man's face, would,
+perhaps, have deduced discontent, becoming habitual and tending toward
+cynicism; and if a philosopher of the weeping, rather than the laughing
+variety, he would have mourned over the atom of humanity, beneath whose
+careworn lines and shadows of dissatisfaction there lay forgotten noble
+promise. And, to sum up the philosophic conclusions (for, like other
+philosophers, our hypothetical lover of wisdom is growing tiresome) he,
+being aware of the cause of much mundane misery, might have decided that
+the man had lost money, and would have been wrong, for the man was one
+whom financial loss could hardly touch. The Great Serpent might refuse
+to yield for weeks, aye forever, and Mark Claghorn would have been
+content. In truth, its annual product was a burden heavier than he
+thought he ought, in fairness, to be called upon to bear. He liked
+companionship, being naturally well disposed toward his fellows, yet, as
+he said to himself, the loneliness of this evening stroll in the centre
+of mirth and good fellowship had its reason in his wealth. A man such as
+he, so he told himself, is forced, in the nature of things, to purchase
+all the joys of life, and being purchased they had but slight attraction
+for him; thus ordinarily he was solitary and somewhat given to
+brooding, though wise enough to utter no complaint on a score wherein he
+certainly would have found but slight sympathy.
+
+He strolled on, paying little heed to any, except when occasionally the
+clank of a sabre or the faint jingle of a spur signified a cavalryman in
+the vicinity; then he would glance at the cavalryman, and with a quickly
+satisfied curiosity, pass on, listless as before.
+
+He entered a cafe, and calling for a "bock," lit a cigar and proceeded
+to seek distraction in tobacco and beer, while looking over the pages of
+the "_Vie Parisienne_," but apparently found no amusement in that very
+Gallic periodical. At last he drew a letter from his pocket. "Little
+Paula," he muttered, as he opened the sheet, and his tone was kindly, if
+not tender. "I suppose, in the end, my mother will see the fulfilment of
+the wish she thinks so carefully concealed," he muttered, and then, as
+if to find encouragement to filial duty in the letter itself, he
+commenced to read, and was thus engaged when he felt a hand upon his
+shoulder, and heard the exclamation, "Claghorn!" He looked up and,
+rising, accepted the outstretched hand of Adolphe de Fleury.
+
+"I was not sure whether it was you or your ghost," said Adolphe. "When
+did you leave America?"
+
+"Over a year since," replied Mark; then, unmindful of the look of
+surprise in the face of his companion, he added: "I hoped I might meet
+you. I am only here for a few hours, and the opportunity to congratulate
+you----"
+
+"To congratulate! May I ask why I am to be congratulated?" interrupted
+the lieutenant.
+
+"Usually a newly married man; or one about to be----"
+
+"Claghorn, you can hardly--do you mean that you believed me married?"
+
+"Married, or about to be. I heard from the Marquise while at St.
+Petersburg----"
+
+"And I have suspected you! Know, my dear fellow, though I had rather you
+heard it from somebody else, that I am very far from married. I am
+jilted; abandoned by our fair but cruel cousin, who has fled from my
+mother's protection and taken refuge among the Yankees."
+
+"Do you mean that Natalie is in America?"
+
+"Just that, _mon cher_, and with her Berthe of the wonderful eyes."
+
+Mark's innocence of all knowledge of the fact stated was evident in his
+face. He was astounded; at the same time a sense of joy swept across his
+soul. He looked hastily at his watch; it was too late to call upon the
+Marquise, unless, indeed, she had company, in which case he would not be
+able to see her alone. But, looking at his watch inspired him with an
+excuse to plead an appointment, which he did, and left his companion.
+
+The next day he called upon Madame de Fleury, and on his return to his
+hotel, he wrote the following letter:
+
+     "My Dear Cousin Natalie--Last night I arrived here direct from
+     St. Petersburg, being merely a bird of passage, and on my way
+     to London. I had expected to be there by this time, but after
+     meeting Adolphe de Fleury, I deferred my departure until I
+     could see the Marquise. Doubtless, my letters in London will
+     convey the information which has been imparted by her. To say
+     that I was surprised to hear that you had gone to America
+     hardly expresses my feeling; but surprise is cast into the
+     shade by gratification. Now that your reasons for the step you
+     have taken have been so freely disclosed to me by Madame de
+     Fleury (who insisted upon reading to me passages from your
+     letters), I hope you will not regard it as intrusive in me if I
+     express my admiration of your independence and complete
+     approbation of your conduct. You are in spirit a true American,
+     and I congratulate both you and our country upon the fact. Do
+     you remember the day I said 'good-bye' to you? Had you then any
+     inkling of the true reason for my adieu? Your father had just
+     informed me that since girlhood you had been the betrothed of
+     Adolphe de Fleury. Monsieur Claghorn at the time assured me
+     that had not this been the case I should have had his good
+     wishes in regard to the aspirations I had just laid before him.
+     I have never laid those aspirations before you, nor can I do so
+     adequately in a letter; nor at this time, when so long a period
+     has elapsed since I last saw you. What I have to say must be
+     said in person, and so unsatisfactory is this method of
+     addressing you on the subject that I may not send this letter.
+
+     "But, if you receive it, understand why I write it. It seems,
+     perhaps, laughable--though it does not seem so to me--that I
+     should be haunted by a terror which darkens the new hope that
+     has arisen within me. You are thousands of miles away. True, it
+     is not easily conceivable that you may become lost to me in so
+     brief a residence in America, yet the idea is constantly with
+     me. I blame that which I then believed the honorable reticence
+     which I ought to maintain toward you after my interview with
+     your father, and having heard his assurances of intentions,
+     which I, of course, supposed were approved by you. Had I shown
+     you the least glimpse of a sentiment which it cost me much to
+     conceal, I might now be freed from the dread which oppresses
+     me. I am even tempted to send you a telegraphic message; yet I
+     picture you reading such a message and shrink from seeming
+     ridiculous in your eyes. As to this letter, I am impelled to
+     say as much as I have said while that which I desire to say is
+     plainly enough indicated. I had supposed it possible to
+     disclose and yet conceal it. But the letter is wiser than I
+     intended it to be. My most ardent hope is that within a few
+     days after its receipt you will listen to all that is here
+     omitted.
+
+     "Faithfully,
+
+     "MARK CLAGHORN."
+
+He sent the letter, unsatisfactory and feeble as he knew it to be. He
+chafed at the necessity of deferring his departure for America; but the
+Great Serpent was importunate, and even for love a man cannot disregard
+the claims of others. Engagements connected with the mine, made long
+since, must receive attention before he could leave Europe.
+
+But, during the intervals of business, even pending its details, he was
+hourly tempted to send a dispatch and be ridiculous. But he refrained.
+He sailed for America four days after sending the letter. He had not
+been absurd; his dignity was saved. Who that is wise in a wise
+generation listens to intuitions?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+A KISS THAT MIGHT HAVE LINGERED ON HIS LIPS WHILE SEEKING ENTRANCE AT
+THE GATE OF HEAVEN.
+
+
+At the foot of the cliff whereon Mrs. Joe had erected a monument to the
+Great Serpent in the form of a castle, the ocean beats in calm weather
+with a sullen persistence which increases with the rising wind from
+spiteful lashing into furious pounding against the unshaken crag,
+accompanied by a roar of futile rage. Stormpoint affords no nook of
+shelter for a distressed craft, and the rocks, submerged beneath the
+vexed waters, render the coast hereabout even more dangerous than does
+the sheer wall of stone which appals the mariner caught in the storm and
+driven shoreward. Once around the point, the little harbor of
+Easthampton offers safety, but it has happened that vessels, unable to
+weather Stormpoint, have been dashed against the rocks and human beings
+have been tossed about in the seething foam beneath the crags; or men
+have clung to wreckage in sight of wailing wives and mothers, and of
+children to be orphaned in the rush of the next black billow.
+
+From the rocks hereabout no lifeboat can be launched at times when
+lifeboats are needed, therefore the coast-guard station is nearer the
+harbor, where there is a beach upon which the waves slide upward,
+spending their strength, and where even in the storm they can be ridden
+by resolute men; but no boat can live among the rocks in the raging
+waters beneath the cliff. And so, Mrs. Joe, with the approval of the
+authorities, had built on the ledge of the cliffside (enlarged and
+widened for the purpose) a house, in which were kept appliances for
+casting lines athwart wrecked craft. There were plenty to ridicule the
+benevolent lady, some on the score of the futility of preparing for an
+improbable disaster (less than a dozen ships had been lost there in a
+century; and probably not, in all that time, a hundred lives); others
+because while yet another ship might be driven thither, no human effort
+could then avert her doom. Mrs. Joe, notwithstanding these arguments,
+carried out her intention, and waited, hoping that she would never be
+justified by the event.
+
+One day Natalie and Leonard were in the "wreck house," as the structure
+had come to be called; a high wind, constantly increasing, was blowing,
+and from their position they saw all the grandeur of the ocean, rolling
+in majesty toward the wall of rock, an assailing mass, seeming inspired
+with malevolent intelligence and boundless strength, but, caught by the
+sunken rocks, the onset would be broken, and, bellowing with rage, each
+mighty billow would recede, only to be followed by another, as angry and
+as awful of aspect as the last.
+
+It was a sight before which human passion was cowed and human pride was
+humbled. As Leonard watched Natalie, silently contemplating the grandeur
+of the scene, her dark hair blowing back from the smooth white brow,
+beneath which eyes, as unfathomable as the ocean itself, looked
+yearningly out into the storm, he had a clear perception that the
+emotions he had harbored and nourished as to this woman were unworthy of
+the soul in her fathomless eyes. In the presence of nature, feebly
+stirred as yet, but with a promise of the mighty strength restrained,
+and perhaps, too, his nobler self responding unconsciously to the purity
+of the woman at his side, the grosser passion that had vexed him was
+subdued; desire for the woman was lost in desire to share the woman's
+heart.
+
+The darkening heavens sinking into the gloom of the ocean, where in the
+distance the rolling masses of cloud and water seemed to meet, the
+roaring wind, the waves booming on the cliff, and the boiling cauldron
+of death beneath their feet--in the presence of these things words could
+not utter thoughts unutterable; they stood long silent.
+
+"Who, then, is this, that He commandeth even the winds and the water,
+and they obey Him?" Leonard heard her murmur these words.
+
+"Who, indeed?" he said. "How can man deny God in the face of this?"
+
+"In the face of anything?"
+
+"Or deny His Revelation? Natalie, it is true."
+
+"Is it true?"
+
+"As true as the waters or the sky--Natalie, Natalie, it is true."
+
+His tone trembled with a tenderness deeper than the tenderness of
+passion. She looked and saw his eyes with a sheen of tears upon them; no
+gleam of earthly desire looked out of them, but the yearning for a soul.
+In the presence of the Majesty of God the nobler spirit had awakened and
+answered to the longing of the girl to know the secret of the waves, the
+rocks, the skies; the secret of herself and of the man beside her--the
+eternal truth, hidden always, yet always half revealed to questioning
+man.
+
+"Religion is very dear to you, Leonard?"
+
+"Dearer than all but God Himself. Dearer than riches, honors--dearer,
+Natalie, than the love I bear for you."
+
+It was said without the usual intent of lover's vows, and so she
+understood it. She made no answer.
+
+And then they saw a sight which made them forget all else--a
+fellow-creature, driving helplessly to destruction beneath their feet.
+
+It was a lad, ignorant, it would seem, of the management of the frail
+vessel in which he was the sole passenger. Even in the hands of an
+experienced sailor the little boat, intended for smooth water only,
+would have been unsafe; now, unskilfully fitted with a mast and sail,
+managed by ignorant hands, and driven toward a coast that had no
+shelter, the storm rising each moment, the outlook was desperate for the
+voyager.
+
+Leonard seized a trumpet from the appliances with which the wreck-house
+was furnished, and leaning far out of the window, bawled in stentorian
+tones, some order, which, whether heard by the boy or not, was unheeded.
+Indeed, the desperate situation seemed to have paralyzed him; he clung
+to the tiller with the proverbial clutch of the drowning man, utterly
+incapable of other action, if indeed other action could prevail.
+
+Seizing a line, Leonard ran down the stairway to a platform built
+against the cliff and not many feet above the water. Natalie followed.
+The wind was rising every moment, the tide running higher with each
+succeeding wave, and now, as she noticed, even reaching the platform.
+Leonard noticed, too. "It is not safe here," he shouted to her, for the
+wind howled in their ears and the noise of the surge emulated the noise
+of the wind. At the same time he pointed to the stairway, signifying
+that she should return, but took no further heed of her. His one thought
+was to do the thing that would save the life in peril. She did not know
+what he was about to do, but watched him, ready to lend assistance,
+though without taking her eyes from the boy in the boat. Thus far it had
+escaped the sunken rocks, but it could not long escape the shore. The
+wind had blown the sail from its fastenings and it tossed upon the
+waves. Only the whirlpool formed by the sunken rocks and the sullenly
+receding waters, which had but a moment before been hurled against the
+cliff, stayed the wreck of the craft. It needed no experienced eye to
+recognize the imminence of the peril of the boy, and the sight of the
+solitary being, helpless and exposed to the rude mercy of the waves, was
+pitiful. Natalie wrung her hands and prayed in French, and while the
+infidel prayed the clergyman acted.
+
+He had intended to cast the weighted end of the line across the boat and
+so give its passenger communication with the shore; even so, the case of
+the lad would have been but slightly bettered, since, though fast to the
+rope, to avoid being dashed against the rocks would be barely possible;
+but Leonard, almost in the act of throwing, saw that his intention was
+impracticable. He must wait until the boat had come a little nearer.
+Natalie, with alarm that was almost horror, saw him remove his coat and
+boots; she would have remonstrated, but she felt that remonstrance was
+useless. He stood a waiting hero, his whole being absorbed in the task
+before him. That task involved his plunging into the boiling surf, the
+very abyss of death. Who can say that some premonition of the future was
+not upon him, as, with uplifted head and watching eyes, he stood
+statue-like awaiting the supreme moment? Who knows but he was warned
+that better for him the whirlpool below than the woman at his side!
+
+Keenly watching the boat, his hands had still been busy, and from the
+line he had fashioned a loop, which now he fitted over his head and
+beneath his armpits. The other end of the line he secured to a ring in
+the platform, and then, having said nothing to Natalie, but now taking
+her hand in his own, and holding it tightly, he waited.
+
+Not long. As in a flash she saw the boat in fragments, the boy in the
+water, and in the same instant Leonard plunged in.
+
+She seized the line, but let it have play. Leonard had reached the boy
+in one stroke, had him in his very grasp, when a huge receding wave tore
+them asunder, and both were lost to Natalie.
+
+She pulled with all her strength. She knew that the boy was drowned and
+had no hope for Leonard; her hold of the rope aided in his rescue, as
+she was able to prevent his being carried away; but had it not been that
+the next wave swept him upon the platform, where he was instantly seized
+and dragged far backward by Natalie, who herself barely escaped being
+swept off, he must have been either drowned or dashed dead against the
+rocks.
+
+For some minutes she believed him drowned. She had dragged him to a
+place of comparative safety and he lay quite still with his head in her
+lap. But after awhile he sighed and looked into her eyes, and at last
+sat up. "The boy?" he said.
+
+"Gone," she sobbed.
+
+After some moments he arose, and feebly enough, assisted her to rise,
+and they sat upon the stairway, and after awhile got into the
+wreck-house. Here Leonard knew where to find restoratives, as well as a
+huge blanket, in which he wrapped himself and Natalie.
+
+And so they sat side by side, enveloped in one covering, both quite
+silent, until he said: "Natalie, I have been praying."
+
+"Teach me, Leonard."
+
+"While I live," he answered, and he turned his face and kissed her.
+
+It was the second time that he had kissed woman, but this was a kiss
+that might have lingered on his lips while seeking entrance at the gate
+of heaven.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+A DISHONEST VEILING OF A WOMAN'S HEART.
+
+
+There was joy at Stormpoint. Before the eyes of Mrs. Joe there rose the
+vision of a senate spell-bound by the resonant voice of oratory, while
+in the same foreshadowing of the time to come Paula beheld Father
+Cameril triumphant over the Bishop and strong in reliance upon the
+stalwart arm of a soldier newly enrolled in the army of the Church
+Militant. Mark had returned, and it was while gazing upon his
+countenance that these seers saw their delectable visions and dreamed
+their pleasant dreams.
+
+Upon this, the first evening of his return, the three sat together in
+the library of Stormpoint, Mark submitting, with that external grace
+which becomes the man placed upon a pedestal by worshipping woman, to
+the adoration of his mother and of Paula; the while secretly ungrateful
+and chafing because it was not possible to see Natalie before bedtime.
+
+They had dined cosily together, and the wanderer had been treated as the
+prodigal of old, the substitute for fatted calf being the choicest
+viands procurable and the rarest vintage of the Stormpoint cellar; yet
+he had not enjoyed his dinner, being oppressed by vague forebodings; and
+it was irksome to feign a smiling interest where could be no interest
+until he had received an answer to his letter to Natalie. Naturally, he
+had inquired as to the welfare of all the Claghorns of the vicinity, and
+had expressed satisfaction at replies which indicated health and
+prosperity among his relatives.
+
+"I would have asked them all to dinner," said Mrs. Joe, "but I knew that
+they would understand that we would be glad to have you to ourselves
+to-night. Leonard and Natalie are always considerate."
+
+"Leonard was always a favorite of yours," observed Mark, who did not
+greatly relish this coupling of names, and who could hardly trust
+himself to discuss Natalie.
+
+"A good young man," replied the lady. "He is almost one of us."
+
+Mark looked quizzically at Paula, who blushed but said nothing. The
+blush was a relief to him. "He is a fine fellow," he said, heartily. "I
+have always believed in Leonard, though I don't admire his profession or
+his creed. But there are good men among theologians, and I'm sure he is
+one of them."
+
+"But, my son," remonstrated Mrs. Joe, "that is not the way to talk of
+clergymen."
+
+"Fie! mother. Would you deny that there are good men among the clergy?"
+
+"Mark, you know I meant something very different. We only wish Leonard
+was in the Church."
+
+"How can he be out of it, being a Christian?"
+
+"There is but one Church," observed Paula gravely.
+
+"The Holy Catholic Church," added Mrs. Joe.
+
+"Which term you and Paula assume as belonging especially to your
+denomination," laughed Mark. "I doubt if even your own divines would be
+so arrogant. Mother, this young saint is evidently as intolerant as
+ever; and she is making you like herself," and he placed his hand,
+kindly enough, on the girl's shoulder.
+
+Her eyes filled with tears. "Mark," she said, "you may laugh at me, but
+religion ought to be sacred."
+
+"Both you and your religion ought to be, and are," he answered, and
+stooped and kissed her forehead; and, though she did not look up, for
+she dared not meet his eyes, he was forgiven.
+
+The elder lady was surprised, but she noted Mark's action with high
+approval. Of all the hopes that she had woven round her son, that one
+which contemplated his marriage with Paula was supreme. She had trained
+the girl for this high destiny, though, true to her instincts, she had
+been as politic in this as in other objects of ambition, and neither of
+the two whose fortunes she intended to shape were in her confidence. She
+rightly divined that nothing would so surely incite to rebellion on the
+part of Mark as an open attempt to control him in a matter of this
+nature, and was wise enough to know that a disclosure of her hopes to
+Paula would place the girl in a false position, whereby she must
+inevitably lose that engaging simplicity which, aside from her beauty,
+was her greatest charm. The lady had, as we know, been compelled by the
+exigencies of policy to impart her cherished plan to more than one
+individual; and after she had done so to Natalie, she had been in terror
+until opportunity occurred to insure silence.
+
+"You see, my dear," she had explained to Natalie, "he has not actually
+spoken. Paula, like any other girl so situated, knows what is coming,
+but of course----"
+
+"Dear Mrs. Joe, I should not in any case have mentioned the matter."
+
+"I ought to have been more reticent, but----"
+
+"I am sure you did what you thought best," at which reply the lady's
+color had deepened and the subject was dropped.
+
+Thus Mark's action rendered his mother happy, for, notwithstanding her
+sanguine disposition, she had often suffered misgivings. At times,
+during her son's frequent absences, her fears had risen high, and with
+each return home she watched him, narrowly scrutinizing his belongings,
+even going so far as to rummage among his letters, to discover if there
+existed any ground for fear. Her anxieties stilled and their object once
+more under the maternal eye, she was willing, since she must be, that he
+be deliberate in falling in love. She knew men thoroughly, so she
+believed, having known one a little, and was persuaded that the older he
+grew, the more certain was Mark to appreciate that highest womanly
+attribute so plainly discernible in Paula--pliancy. To man, so Mrs. Joe
+believed, that was the supreme excellence in woman. And there had been
+in Paula's reception of Mark's caress a certain coyness, becoming in
+itself, and which had lent an air of tenderness to the little scene.
+Paula had cast her eyes downward in that modest confusion proper to
+maidens and inviting to men; doubtless Mark would be glad to repeat a
+homage so engagingly received.
+
+None of these rosy inferences were shared by Paula. During Mark's last
+sojourn at Stormpoint, which had been immediately after leaving France
+and constant intercourse with the household of Beverley Claghorn, she
+had made her own observations and drawn her own conclusions. Whatever
+the reason for Mark's action, she knew it portended nothing for her, and
+if she had received his fraternal kiss in some confusion, it was because
+she dreaded the possibility of sorrow in store for him, a sorrow
+connected with a secret confided to her within a few hours.
+
+"Now that you are home again, Mark," said his mother, "I want your
+promise not to run away."
+
+"You know men, mother; if I make a promise, I shall inevitably want to
+break it."
+
+"But you wouldn't."
+
+"Better not tempt the weak. Isn't that so, Paula?"
+
+"Better not be weak."
+
+"I am serious, Mark," said Mrs. Joe. "You must consider the future; you
+should plan a career."
+
+"I have no intention of running away; certainly not to-night."
+
+"Nor any night, I hope."
+
+"You know," he said with some hesitation, "it is possible I may have to
+go to California."
+
+"Nonsense! What is Benton paid for? I need you. We ought to select a
+city home, and I want your taste, your judgment."
+
+"My dear mother, the city home will be yours. Why haven't you chosen one
+long since?"
+
+"As if I would without consulting you!"
+
+He smiled, but forebore to remind her that he had not been consulted
+with regard to Stormpoint. "Whatever is your taste is mine," he said.
+"These gilded cages are for pretty birds like you and Paula; as for
+me----"
+
+"That's nonsense. I am willing to keep your nest warm, but----"
+
+"If I were to consult my own taste, I would re-erect old Eliphalet's
+cabin and be a hermit."
+
+"Mark, you actually hurt me----"
+
+"My dear mother, you know I'm joking. About this house, then. New York,
+I suppose, is the place for good Californians."
+
+"It would be pleasanter; but it might be policy to remain in the State."
+
+He looked at her in wonder. "Why?" he asked.
+
+"It was merely an idea," she replied, blushing, and secretly grieved
+that he did not understand. But it was no time to enter into those plans
+which were the fruit of many consultations with Mr. Hacket. "It's
+getting late; good-night, my dear boy. I know you'll try to please me."
+She kissed him, and, with Paula, left the room.
+
+Left alone, he paced up and down the long room, nervously biting a cigar
+which he forgot to light. He knew he would be unable to pass in sleep
+the hours that must elapse before he could see Natalie. He was filled
+with forebodings; the vague fears which had tempted him to send an
+absurd telegraphic message to Natalie had troubled him since he had
+first recognized their presence and had grown in strength with each new
+day. He was unaware that presentiments and feelings "in the bones," once
+supposed to be the laughable delusions of old ladies and nervous younger
+ones, were now being regarded with respectful attention as a part of the
+things undreamed of in Horatio's philosophy; and, taking his attitude
+after the old fashion, he had reasoned with that being which man calls
+"himself," and, for the edification of "himself," had shown to that
+personage the childishness of indulging in vague and ungrounded fears.
+But without success. Philosophers have discovered that which old ladies
+always knew, that all explanations of the wherefore of these mental
+vagaries are unsatisfactory as long as the vagaries persist; and while
+they do, they vex the wise and foolish alike.
+
+His musings were disturbed by the entrance of Paula, clad in a ravishing
+tea-gown, a dainty fragment of humanity. "Mark," she said, "what is the
+matter?" for she had been quick to notice and had been startled by the
+gloom of his face.
+
+"Tired, Paula," and he smiled. Somehow Paula always made him smile.
+
+"If I were tired, I would go to bed," she observed with a faint touch
+of sarcasm. "I won't advise bed to you, for I know that you do not
+credit me with much sense."
+
+"Yet it is plain that you have more than I, since you have indicated the
+sensible course," he answered pleasantly. "That should be placing you in
+high esteem, since we all think well of ourselves."
+
+"Forgive me," she said with real sorrow for her petulance, for which she
+perhaps could have given no reason; "but I have seen that you were
+troubled----"
+
+"And like a dear little sister you overflow with sympathy. Was there
+ever anybody kinder or better than you? But the real fact is that I am
+simply tired--yet not sleepy."
+
+"Well"--she sighed wistfully--"you will feel rested to-morrow. I came
+down to give you this from Natalie," handing him a note. "I would have
+waited until morning, but I----"
+
+"Did right, as you always do," he answered, kissing her cheek and saying
+good-night, and thus dismissing her, with an evident eagerness to read
+the note, not lost upon Paula, and which left her no alternative but to
+leave him.
+
+He opened the envelope and read:
+
+     "Dear Mark--Your letter came this morning, and I have just
+     learned that you will be home to-night. I cannot express to you
+     how glad I shall be to see you again. Before we meet in the
+     presence of others, I hope to see you alone. Your letter, dear
+     Mark, evidently delayed by being addressed in Mr. Winter's
+     care, has cost me some tears, both of joy and sorrow. I am
+     impatient to see you, for it seems to me that to you, before to
+     any other, except to Paula (who would have known by intuition),
+     I should disclose the happiness that has come to me in my
+     engagement to Leonard. It is but two days old, and except to
+     Paula, is known only to ourselves. Dear Mark, it has not been
+     easy to write these few lines. I wish I could express in them
+     how sincerely I honor and love you, and how I wish for your
+     happiness. I have commenced to pray, and the first time I knelt
+     to heaven I prayed for you; and so long as I shall continue to
+     pray--and I think that will be always now--I shall not forget
+     to beg that you be made happy. I hope you will wander no more,
+     but be oftener with those that love you and who need you more
+     than you perhaps know; and as I shall live either in Hampton or
+     Easthampton, and as I must ever regard you as one of my
+     earliest and my best friend, I hope we shall see each other
+     often.
+
+     "NATALIE."
+
+     "Oh, Mark, your happiness is at Stormpoint. No one is better,
+     more loving, or more lovable than she."
+
+The letter stunned him. He might, had he known women as well as he
+(being young) believed he did--he might have read the truth in every
+line. He might have seen that were he to rouse his energies and plead
+his cause, he could win it, even yet. He might have heard the
+unconscious cry for rescue from an engagement contracted before his
+letter had reached her; he might have seen, in the pains she had taken
+to tell him that such was the case, his excuse and hers for asserting
+his rights against Leonard. These things were plain enough; perhaps the
+writer had intended that they should be; not consciously, indeed; but
+from that inner being who is part of all of us, the desperate hope of
+the girl's heart had not been hidden as she wrote, nor was her pen
+entirely uncontrolled by it.
+
+But the postscript obscured his vision. He laughed contemptuously and
+thought, as men will think, "It is thus that woman estimates love. She
+is sorry for me, and suggests that the consolation I may need I shall
+find in Paula!" He did not recognize that in the postscript was the real
+dishonesty of the letter; that it was the salve to the conscience of the
+writer, believing that in the letter itself she had said too much,
+whereas she had said too little for the perception of a man in the haze
+of jealousy. Such gleams of truth as might otherwise have been visible
+to Mark could not penetrate that dishonest veiling of the woman's
+heart.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+A MAN ABOUT TO MEET A MAID.
+
+
+One may approach the White House by way of the High Street of
+Easthampton, of which thoroughfare the dwelling in question is a
+conspicuous ornament; but for such as prefer a more secluded road, a
+grassy lane behind the houses affords direct access to Miss Claghorn's
+garden.
+
+Mark chose the lane. Since, in obedience to Natalie's request, he must
+see her, he hoped to find her in the garden, where there would be less
+danger of interruption.
+
+The birds twittered in the trees, joyous in the new day; the dew
+glimmered on the grass-blades; the scent of flowers from adjacent
+gardens perfumed the fresh air of a perfect summer morning. On such a
+morning a man about to meet a maid should have trod the earth lightly.
+But Mark lingered as he walked, reluctant to hear his fate pronounced by
+lips which he longed to kiss, but could never kiss; lips, therefore, it
+were better not to see. Yet, since he had been summoned, he must go on;
+and because of the summons there were moments when he still, if faintly,
+hoped. Hope dies hard; and, notwithstanding the forebodings which had
+vexed him ever since he had written the letter (for which writing he had
+since cursed his folly), there had been times when hope had risen high,
+and, as he even now assured himself, not without reason. If he had been
+self-deceived, it had not been from the complacency of the coxcomb.
+Surely she had loved him, or had been willing to love, had that been
+permitted her.
+
+In arguing thus he was not reasoning unfairly. He had been
+unintentionally deceived by the philosopher, Beverley Claghorn, who had
+permitted the intercourse between his daughter and this young man,
+partly from carelessness, more because he approved of a cousinly
+friendship of which one of the partakers was able to gratify a noble
+sentiment by an addition to the dowry of the other. It had been by
+pointing out this ability that he had assuaged the misgivings of the
+Marquise; at the same time so solemnly reiterating his loyalty to the
+treaty with that lady, that when Mark's disclosure came it had been
+impossible for him to receive it otherwise than he had done--by a
+regretful rejection. He had been astounded by the avowal, for he had
+noted no sighs, no posturing, no eloquent apostrophes or melting glances
+from this suitor who approached him with a tale of love, having never
+displayed a visible sign of the tender passion. M. Claghorn's
+observation of lovers had long been confined to one variety. He forgot
+that Anglo-Saxon swains are less prone to languish in public than their
+brothers of Gaul. Had Adolphe de Fleury been in Paris there would have
+been more frequent flowers, scented billets, rapt gazes, rolling eyes
+and eloquential phrases; all offered for the general appreciation as
+much as for the lady of his love. In the absence of these familiar
+evidences of ardor, the philosopher was, in his own eyes, acquitted of
+responsibility for the surprising fact which Mark had imparted to him.
+For, how could he suspect a legitimate passion in a youth who had yet to
+sow his wild oats, and one with the capacity for acquiring an unlimited
+field for that delightful, if futile, and generally expensive,
+husbandry? No man of Mark's years could be so wise--or so foolish. That
+was, as the philosopher viewed human nature, not in such nature. The
+case was different with Adolphe de Fleury, compelled by circumstances to
+seize the most attractive dowry that fell in his way; and even that
+gallant but impecunious soldier was, doubtless, cultivating a modest
+crop as sedulously as circumstances permitted.
+
+Thus had Mark been the victim of a philosophic mode of thought and had
+bowed to that which he had supposed would be the filial, as it had been
+the paternal, decision; saying good-bye, sadly, doubtless, but without
+betrayal of that which he believed would not be gladly heard, nor could
+be honorably disclosed.
+
+The ocean lay between him and the woman that he loved before he fully
+realized how much must be henceforth lacking in his life, and when
+repentance was too late he repented that he had taken the philosopher's
+word for a fact of which he now sometimes doubted the existence. Many
+memories whispered that she, too, had loved. No word of hers had told
+him this; but love is not always told in words--and then he would accuse
+himself of the folly of permitting vain longings to control his
+judgment. Nevertheless, when, while still at Stormpoint, he had heard of
+the sudden death of Beverley Claghorn, he had resolved to do that which
+before he had omitted, to appeal to Natalie herself, when, most
+inopportunely, there came a letter from the Marquise to Mrs. Joe; a
+letter which informed the relatives of the deceased that the death of
+the father would hasten, rather than retard, the marriage of the
+daughter, who had already taken up her residence with the writer of the
+epistle, in accordance with the wish of her father. Not long after the
+receipt of that letter Mark had started for Russia, leaving France
+unvisited.
+
+He opened the gate which led from the lane into the garden, and
+found--Tabitha.
+
+Who raised her hands in astonishment, then stretched them forth in
+welcome: "And so you're back! For how long this time? More of a Claghorn
+than ever--as grim as one of the Eliphalets."
+
+"No need to ask how you are," said Mark, his grimness softened by her
+heartiness. "You get younger every year. How are my aunt and----"
+
+"And Natalie? Blooming--that's the word. You'll find things different at
+the White House. We haven't had a good spat in months. Soor le ponty
+Avinyon, on y donks, on y donks----"
+
+"_On y danse_," repeated Mark, laughing at Tabitha's French in spite of
+himself.
+
+"Yes; even my old legs. Your aunt's are too stiff. But we young things,
+that's Natalie and I, we cut our capers," and in the exuberance of her
+spirits Miss Cone essayed a caper for Mark's benefit.
+
+"Such grace, Tabby----"
+
+"Is worth coming from Russia to see. I'm practising; there's to be great
+doings here before long. What would you say to a wedding?"
+
+"Let me salute the bride?" he said, with an attempt at gaiety which, to
+himself, seemed rather sickly, and suiting his action to the word.
+
+"Well!" ejaculated Miss Cone, adjusting her cap, "many a man's had his
+ears boxed for that. However, I suppose it's in the air around here--but
+you're mistaken. I'm not the bride."
+
+"Surely, not Aunt Achsah?"
+
+"As if you couldn't guess! But don't say I told you. The fact is I'm so
+full of it I blabbed without thinking."
+
+"Then it's a secret?"
+
+"It won't be after to-day. Leonard told us last night. I suppose your
+aunt'll tell your ma to-day."
+
+Mark promised to say nothing and went toward the house. Miss Claghorn
+welcomed him cordially, but made no reference to the subject of
+Tabitha's disclosures, though traces of her agreeable agitation were
+visible. "There's Natalie, now!" she exclaimed after some minutes had
+been spent in conversation sufficiently dreary to one of the two.
+
+The thundering of a horse's hoofs told of a wild gallop. The old lady
+rushed from the house, followed by Mark, dismayed by her action and the
+alarm expressed in her countenance. He reached the gate in time to
+assist Natalie to dismount.
+
+"My dear child!" exclaimed the elder lady reproachfully.
+
+She was grasping Mark's hands in welcome. Her face was flushed; her dark
+hair, disturbed by the pace at which she had ridden, hung low upon her
+forehead; he had never seen her so beautiful--nor so happy. His face was
+pale, his hands cold in hers.
+
+"Dear Aunt," she said, "I felt as though I must gallop; I didn't mean to
+in the High Street; I couldn't hold him."
+
+"He was homeward bound," said Mark, turning to look at the horse, now
+being led away by Miss Achsah's "man." "He's a handsome beast."
+
+"I have much to ask you about the Marquise," said Natalie to Mark, as
+they went into the house, whereupon Miss Claghorn left them.
+
+The short-lived bloom of her face was gone; she was deadly pale. She
+stretched her ungloved hands toward him; it might have been a gesture
+of appeal. He dared not take them in his own; his longing to clasp her
+to his heart was too great to risk the contact. She dropped her arms.
+
+"You wished to see me--to ask me----" He paused; his voice sounded stern
+in his ears, but he had no power over it.
+
+"To--to say something. Give me a moment."
+
+As she turned toward the window he caught a glimpse of the sheen of
+tears. A mighty impulse raised his arms as though to clasp her; then
+they fell.
+
+    "What fates impose, that man must need abide."
+
+She turned toward him. "I thought there was much to say. There
+is--nothing."
+
+"Nothing for you; for me, something. It is to wish you all happiness, to
+assure you of my constant--friendship."
+
+"And that is needless. We shall always be friends, warm friends, Mark.
+Let it be so. And--there is something more. I should not have written as
+I did of Paula; I had no right. But--since I am your friend, and you are
+mine----"
+
+"We shall be. Even so, give me a little time."
+
+His words were accompanied by a sardonic smile. The words and the smile
+silenced her. There was a pause.
+
+"Has the Marquise forgiven me?" she asked at length.
+
+"She will in time. By the way, I saw Adolphe. I hope he did not
+persecute----"
+
+"No, no. He left that to his mama," she answered, laughing. "To Adolphe,
+as a cousin, I had no objection; but----"
+
+"You have chosen more wisely," he said gravely. "I wish you happiness,
+Natalie." He held out his hand; she took it, her own trembling. "God
+bless you, Cousin." His lips brushed her cold cheek, then he was gone.
+
+She watched him from the window; her face was very white, her hands
+tightly clenched. So she stood until he had passed from view, then she
+went upstairs. In the hall she passed Tabitha, who exclaimed: "You
+scared us all--yourself, too. You look like a ghost."
+
+"Scared?" questioned Natalie.
+
+"Riding like that."
+
+"Like that! I wished the horse had wings."
+
+"You'll have 'em if you don't take care, then----"
+
+"Then I'll fly away." The intensity of her utterance made Tabitha stare.
+Natalie laughed aloud, and left her still staring.
+
+Alone in her room, she paced slowly back and forth, struggling with her
+pride, crushing a forbidden and rejected love. So she regarded it. With
+a wrung heart, Mark had respected her decision, and in the depths of her
+soul she blamed him, scorning the puny passion so easily beaten. "Go to
+Paula," she had written, while "Come to me," her heart had cried so
+loudly that, except he were deaf, he might have heard.
+
+When she had written her letter to Mark she had accomplished a bitter
+task only after a long and desperate struggle. She loved Leonard; she
+had said this to herself over and over again, and it was true; and to
+him she had given her troth freely, fully believing that for him there
+would be happiness and for her content. But the lowest depths of her
+soul had been stirred by the letter from Mark. There were chambers there
+that Leonard had not entered, could never enter, and into which she
+herself dared not look.
+
+Self-sacrifice is to women alluring. That which she had made had been
+made, at least she so believed, with honest intention, yet, since now it
+was irrevocable, it was too hideous to contemplate. She would call him
+back, and on her knees----
+
+Shameful thought! She was betrothed to a man she loved. Had she not
+admitted it? Not to him only, but shyly this very morning to the fond
+old woman to whom she owed so much, whose last days by that very
+admission were brightened by a glorious sunshine never before known in a
+long and gloomy life. Could she now, even if in her own eyes she could
+fall so low--could she fall so low in the eyes of these women by whom
+she was surrounded? In her aunt's eyes and Tabitha's? In Paula's, to
+whom, in loving loyalty, she had herself confided the secret? In those
+of Mrs. Joe, who had so carefully warned her from this preserve? No--to
+that depth she could not descend, not even to bask in the cold and
+passionless love of Mark.
+
+The engagement was received with universal favor. It could hardly be
+otherwise, since all peculiarly interested were of that sex which dearly
+loves to contemplate a captive man, the only male (Leonard, of course,
+excepted) being Mark, whose attitude, being unsuspected, was ignored.
+And the bridegroom was the hero of all these women: the heir of Miss
+Claghorn; the one of the family to whom Tabitha was willing to ascribe
+all the virtues; regarded with affectionate esteem by Mrs. Joe, and, as
+to all except his denominational qualities, worshipped by Paula. As to
+the question of yoking believer and unbeliever, it had certainly
+occurred to all the devotees of the young theologian, but, aside from
+the certainty that truth must find its triumph in the union, the more
+pressing question of clothes for the approaching wedding left but little
+room in pious but feminine minds for other considerations. Events had so
+fallen in with Leonard's wishes that an early marriage was deemed
+advisable in Natalie's interest. Mr. Ellis Winter had encountered
+difficulty with regard to certain property in France belonging to her,
+and her presence in Paris was essential; and it was no less desirable
+that while there she be under the protection of a husband. For, aside
+from other considerations, marriage was the easiest solution of the
+complications which had arisen out of the guardianship of the Marquise,
+which guardianship would legally terminate with Natalie's marriage. And
+these things opened the way for Mark's return to Stormpoint.
+
+"Urgent business" in San Francisco had precluded his attendance at the
+wedding. He wrote Leonard a cordial letter, and he sent to Natalie a
+ruby set in small diamonds, which, Tabitha Cone confidentially imparted
+to Miss Claghorn, was "mean for a billionaire," and which, even in the
+eyes of the latter lady, with whom the donor was a favorite, looked
+paltry. Both would have been surprised and even indignant at the man's
+folly, if they had known that he had bid against a crowned head to get
+the gem, employing a special agent, furnished with _carte blanche_ for
+the purpose. Natalie knew better than they, but it was not of its purity
+or value that she thought, as she looked at the jewel long and
+steadfastly, until a mist of tears suddenly obscured her vision and
+struck terror to her soul.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+MAN WALKETH IN A VAIN SHADOW.
+
+
+Soon after the departure for France of the newly married pair Mark
+returned from San Francisco. During his absence Mrs. Joe had not failed
+to call Mr. Hacket in consultation, and the adviser had reiterated the
+old counsel that the first step in a political career was "to get around
+and get acquainted." In order to induce her son to continue this
+preliminary course it became necessary to disclose her "policy."
+
+Mark, though somewhat languid in the matter, displayed no violent
+reluctance to becoming a statesman. "As to the Presidency," he observed,
+laughing at his mother's lofty ambition, frankly disclosed, "that is the
+heaven of the politician, to be attained only by the elect."
+
+"Nothing's impossible, Mark."
+
+"There's a constitutional provision which will prevent my going in for
+it for some years. Meanwhile, we can investigate and learn how
+Presidents start. One ended as Justice of the Peace; I might try that as
+a beginning."
+
+"A Justice of the Peace!"
+
+"Why so scornful? It's aiming high. The usual course is to begin by
+carrying a banner and shouting."
+
+"Mark, I've set my heart on this."
+
+"My dear mother, blessed is the man or woman that has the wisdom to
+avoid that error."
+
+"My son," said the lady reproachfully, "you seem without interest in
+anything."
+
+"I am older, hence less enthusiastic, than you," he answered, smiling,
+and really believing, perhaps rightly, that, notwithstanding their
+relation, he felt older than she; "but advise me what to do, and I will
+do it. I am not unwilling to be a statesman, only----"
+
+"I have told you----"
+
+"To get about and get acquainted. Good! I'll start at once and collar
+the first voter I meet and demand his friendship." So, laughing, he left
+her, and within an hour Mrs. Joe saw him ride forth from the gates of
+Stormpoint.
+
+During his long ride he admitted the reasonableness of his mother's
+ambition. Aside from the obstacle of great wealth, he was as eligible as
+another for usefulness and such laurels as come to those who honorably
+pursue a political career. He might smile at his mother's lofty dreams,
+yet they were not impossible of attainment; whereas, his own, in so far
+as they offered any allurement, were both unworthy and impossible. "A
+man should do something better than bewail his fate," he muttered;
+"since I cannot love elsewhere I'll be a lover of my country."
+
+Greatly to Mrs. Joe's satisfaction, he thenceforward diligently pursued
+the preliminary requisite of getting around, in so far as that could be
+accomplished by long, solitary rides throughout the region. He seldom
+appeared at dinner without a gratifying account of the acquisition of a
+new rustic acquaintance, while meantime, the lady of Stormpoint saw to
+it that he did not remain unknown to such Hampton magnates as she could
+induce to grace her dinner table, displaying, in the matter of
+hospitality, a catholicity which surprised Paula and amused Mark, who,
+however, was quite willing to be amused.
+
+Philosophers who have made the passion of love a subject of
+investigation (and most philosophers have given some attention to this
+branch of learning) have noticed that the violent death of an old love
+is often quickly followed by the birth of a new one. A jilted man or
+woman is Cupid's easiest prey.
+
+Mrs. Joe may, or may not, have been aware of the truth of the above
+axiom, or its fitness in the case before her; but, having been fairly
+successful in interesting Mark in one object of her "policy," she
+resolved at this time to venture further and urge upon his attention the
+claims of Paula to his love; and, to her great delight, she found him
+not inattentive to the suggestion. He told his mother, truly enough,
+that he had a sincere affection for Paula, and admitted that she was, as
+far as was compatible with humanity, faultless; for it could hardly be a
+fault in Paula that he could feel no throb in his pulse, or glow in his
+bosom, when he recalled her to memory.
+
+"You forget," he said, "that while I might find it easy to love her"
+(which he did not believe), "she might not find it easy to love me."
+
+"You need have no fear." She was about to add that Paula would love
+anybody that loved her, but remembered in time that this might not be
+regarded as a recommendation. "She is the best creature I ever
+knew--almost perfect."
+
+"I believe she is," he assented with a sigh, which was a tribute to
+Paula's perfection. "I fear she is too good for me."
+
+"That's a strange objection."
+
+"I am not so sure," he replied, as he lit a cigar, preparatory to
+leaving the room. But when he was gone, Mrs. Joe felt that he would
+consider the matter, and was content.
+
+Unconsciously to herself, and, perhaps, without the knowledge of those
+by whom she was surrounded, Paula was somewhat harshly treated by
+nature; and that, notwithstanding her beauty. She was the embodiment of
+purity, of affection, of all the sweeter virtues, hence, regarded as
+wanting in those weaknesses which are essential to the symmetry of
+strength; one who lacks the everyday vices of temper, of selfishness, of
+jealousy, is, in some degree, abhorrent to our sense of the fitness of
+things. It is not that we envy the possessor of all the virtues--on the
+contrary, total absence of vice awakens something akin to contempt--but
+we are impatient of a non-combative disposition. The ideal Christian,
+offering the unsmitten cheek, presents a spectacle which, on Sundays, we
+characterize as sublime; the actual Christian, making such a tender, is,
+on any day, an object of scorn. Even of Paula, they who knew her would
+have admitted that it was possible to rouse her to resentment, possibly
+to a deed of vengeance, just as the worm may be made to turn; but, then,
+humanity refuses to admire worms in any attitude.
+
+As Mark prosecuted the study of Paula, it gradually dawned upon him
+that it was interesting. From wondering whether there could be "much in
+her," he attained the conviction that, whether much or little, what
+there was was beyond his ken. "Paula," he asked one day, "are you as
+good as you look?"
+
+"I don't know how good I look, Mark."
+
+"Saintlike."
+
+"Then I am not as good as I look; only I don't think I look as you say."
+
+"Paula, you are a mystery. That's a great thing to be, is it not?"
+(Somehow, he could not help talking to Paula as if she were a child.)
+"Explain the mystery."
+
+"Everybody is a mystery. Explain the mystery."
+
+"Here is an unexpected depth," he exclaimed, with some surprise. "You
+have dared to raise a great question. Let us seek the solution at
+Grandfather Eliphalet's tomb."
+
+The tomb, renovated and neatly railed by that which Miss Claghorn
+secretly regarded as the sacrilegious hand of Mrs. Joe, was near the
+extremity of the Point. When the weary Eliphalet had been laid there to
+rest it had been further inland, but the ever-pounding ocean was
+gradually having its way, day by day encroaching upon the domain of the
+seemingly indestructible rocks.
+
+"The time will come," said Mark, as the two leaned upon the railing,
+"when the sea will claim old Eliphalet's bones."
+
+"And the time will come when the sea will give up its dead," said Paula.
+
+"Perhaps," he answered gloomily; "and to what end? You will answer, in
+order that the dead may be judged. I still ask, to what end?"
+
+"That is the mystery, Mark."
+
+"Not to be answered at Eliphalet's tomb, or elsewhere. Paula, did you
+ever hear of Deacon Bedott?"
+
+"You know, Mark, there are so many deacons in Hampton----"
+
+"This one lived in Slabtown, if I remember right. He was a character of
+fiction, neither very wise nor very entertaining; yet when Deacon Bedott
+lifted up his voice and spake, he formulated one of the Great Truths
+that man can know."
+
+"What did he say?" she asked after a pause.
+
+"We are all poor critters," was the answer, with a grim laugh. "Paula, I
+believe it is the only truth that really does come home to a man."
+
+"It is from the Bible," she said simply.
+
+He looked up. "Do you mean to assert that the Deacon was merely quoting?
+Are you going to destroy my faith in a pet philosopher; he who said all
+that Plato said, or Socrates, or Seneca--or anybody?"
+
+"For man walketh in a vain shadow, and disquieteth himself in vain," she
+answered in a low tone.
+
+There was silence for a moment; at length Mark said: "It seems that the
+Deacon was, after all, a plagiarist."
+
+"I think that perhaps philosophers have discovered few truths concerning
+man that they might not have found in the Bible, and with less labor."
+
+"Paula, do you believe the Bible?"
+
+"Why, Mark! It is God's word."
+
+"And these," he said, pointing to the trees, the crags, the sea; "are
+these God's word?"
+
+"They are His creation; in that sense His word."
+
+"And you and I, and these bones, crumbling a few feet below--these are
+all His creation, and so His word--and we know not what they say."
+
+She looked at him surprised. She had often sorrowed that these things
+did not engage his attention; she was surprised to note his earnestness.
+
+"Paula," he said, "do you know what you were made for?"
+
+"Made for?"
+
+"Leonard would tell you, 'to glorify God, and enjoy Him forever,'" he
+said, "but he would also inform you that the chance of the purpose of
+your creation coming to pass is slim."
+
+"You know I do not subscribe to Leonard's creed," she replied a little
+severely.
+
+"The thirty-nine articles, though less explicit, imply that which
+Leonard's creed has the boldness to state. Yes, Paula, that is the great
+and glorious Hope offered by the Church--damnation for the great
+majority."
+
+"Mark, I do not think I ought to discuss these questions."
+
+"You mean with a scoffer," he said a little bitterly.
+
+"I hope you are not a scoffer. I cannot judge."
+
+"And you decline to find out. Suppose I tell you in all honesty that I
+want to know the reasons for the faith that is in you. That I want to
+know them, so that I may try honestly to adopt them, if I find it
+possible--I don't say easy, Paula, I say possible. Suppose I assure you
+of this, as I do, will you aid me to be what you think I ought to be?"
+
+"Mark," she answered, "I am not competent. Such a one as you should not
+come to such as I."
+
+"Surely you have a reason for your belief! Is it not possible to put it
+into words?"
+
+"Oh, Mark!" She turned and looked upon him; her eyes were brimming with
+tears; she placed her hand upon his arm. "I can help you; I will help
+you. I can direct you to one who can solve your doubts, who can make the
+truth so plain that you must see----"
+
+"And this One is?' he asked reverently.
+
+"Father Cameril."
+
+He burst into a loud laugh which shocked and grieved her. She left him
+and went toward the house; he remained gazing at the tomb.
+
+And there, if he had really contemplated seeking Paula's love, he buried
+the intention with Old Eliphalet. "If your eternal welfare is to your
+wife a matter to be handed over to her priest, your temporal felicity
+will hardly be of moment to her," he thought, as he looked at the smoke
+of his cigar hanging blue in the summer air.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+A PARSON TREADS THE PRIMROSE PATH IN PARIS.
+
+
+"Bel homme!" exclaimed the Marquise de Fleury admiringly.
+
+"_Belle femme!_" echoed the hussar sadly.
+
+"Be everything that is charming, Adolphe, I conjure you. So much depends
+upon Natalie's disposition."
+
+From which brief conversation, which took place as the speakers left the
+hotel where the Leonard Claghorns were established, it may be correctly
+inferred that a friendly reception had been accorded the newly married
+pair by the French relatives of the bride. The noble lady, doubtless,
+felt all the affection for her former ward that she had, during the
+visit, so eloquently expressed, so that inclination prescribed the same
+course that policy would have indicated. The Marquise was still the
+custodian of property belonging to Natalie, and settlement of accounts
+could be much better adjusted in a spirit of indulgent friendship than
+in the cold and calculating spirit of business; and though Natalie and
+her dowry were gone forever, in that distant land whence she had
+returned with a husband, there were golden maids languishing for
+Marquises. "These Yankees," she observed to her son, "they sell their
+souls for money--the men; the women sell their bodies, and such soul as
+goes with them, for titles. Are you not a Marquis, of the _ancien
+regime_? It behooves us, my child, to be gracious to this wedded priest;
+he may know of a _partie_."
+
+"I am so, mama. _Du reste_, he is _beau garçon_, and seems amiable and
+amusing."
+
+"Cultivate him, my infant; a voyage to America may be your destiny. It
+is a rich family--fabulous. There may be maids in plenty among these
+Claghorns."
+
+The two young men, except for the pacific disposition of their
+womankind, might have been inclined to regard one another askance. For,
+in the person of the possessor of Natalie and her dowry the brave hussar
+saw one who however innocently, was still the ravisher of his rights;
+while in this being, in all the glory of fur and feather, sabretache and
+jangling sword, boots and buttons, braid and golden stripes, with a
+pervading tone of red and blue, Leonard beheld a startling and, at
+first, unpleasing creation. But the lieutenant, admonished by his mama,
+and sensible of the interests at stake, and genial by nature, thawed
+almost immediately, and the boulevardier and the theologian were
+friends.
+
+To the young Frenchman a Protestant theologian was a philosopher, rather
+than a priest under vows, hence a person of liberal views and probably
+of lax conduct. As toward a newly married man, and warned incessantly by
+the Marquise, he recognized that etiquette required that from him no
+invitation to dissipation should emanate, but that his attitude ought to
+be that of willingness to pilot the stranger whithersoever he might wish
+to go; occasionally pointing out that paths of pleasantness were open to
+such as might choose to wander in them. And though Leonard displayed no
+undue disposition to such wanderings, an intimacy resulted which was not
+in fact, though seemingly, incongruous.
+
+"What is he like, this beautiful heretic?" asked the Marquise.
+
+"Like a Greek god, as you see, mama."
+
+"But otherwise; he is a priest, you know?"
+
+"And, like other priests, with an eye for a pretty woman."
+
+"But discreet, Adolphe? I hope he is discreet."
+
+"As St. Anthony! Natalie may be easy."
+
+"Be you equally discreet, my child. She has been most generous; and,
+remember, Adolphe----"
+
+"Yes, mama. What am I to remember?"
+
+"That when a woman marries a man for his beauty, it is not love; it is
+infatuation. Do not permit this Leonarr to go astray; he has
+proclivities."
+
+The little hussar laughed. "You are sharp-eyed, mamma."
+
+"Had you watched him before the painting of Eve--but enough. Do nothing
+to cause disquiet to Natalie."
+
+The little man, thus admonished, promised to carefully observe her
+wishes; the more readily as he was aware how important the friendship of
+Natalie was to his mama (in view of the pending adjustment of accounts).
+The more he studied Leonard, the more amusing he found him. To "do"
+Paris (not, indeed, to the extent of the capacity of that capital) in
+company with a priest, was, in itself, a piquant experience. "It is like
+demonstrating to your director how easy it is to sin," he declared; "and
+_ce bon Leonarr_, he imposes no penance. _Tiens!_ These others, these
+Protestants, they have it easy."
+
+"He does not essay to pervert," observed the Marquise in some alarm.
+
+"Be not uneasy. Would I be of a religion whose priests marry? Think of
+the wife of my confessor knowing all my peccadillos!"
+
+"Forgive me. My anxiety was but momentary----"
+
+"Meanwhile, let me help this _pauvre garçon_, whose eyes have, since
+infancy, been bandaged, to see a little bit of the world. It is
+delightful to note his delight."
+
+"But with discretion, Adolphe."
+
+"Do I not assure you he is an anchorite. You have yourself observed that
+he drinks no wine."
+
+"A penance, doubtless. Père Martin is also abstemious."
+
+"As to _ordinaire_. In the presence of a flask of Leoville, I have noted
+a layman's thirst in _ce bon père_."
+
+"Do not ridicule Père Martin, my infant. _Du reste_, it is not wine that
+I fear in the case of this beautiful Leonarr. Continue to be his
+guardian angel, my son."
+
+Under this guardianship Leonard looked at Paris, enjoying his free
+sojourn in a great and brilliant city with hearty, but, on the whole,
+innocent fervor. The sunny skies, the genial good-humor, the eating and
+drinking, the frequent music, the lights, the dapper men, the
+bright-eyed women, the universal alertness--these impart a pleasant
+tingle to Puritan blood; and, if the novice to these delights be young,
+rosy, handsome, of exuberant health, and inclined to the pleasures
+befitting such conditions, he finds Paris grateful to the taste. In
+this congenial atmosphere Leonard basked in guileless rapture. A drive
+in the Bois with Natalie and the Marquise, brilliant equipages dashing
+by, brilliant eyes flashing as they passed, was a rare delight; a stroll
+on the Boulevard was even more enjoyable, for here were more flashing
+eyes and smiling faces, less fleeting, and often coquettishly inviting
+an answering glance. Clothed in the results of the meditations of de
+Fleury's tailor, it became Leonard's frequent habit to haunt the
+Boulevards, indulging in a strut that would have astonished Hampton; and
+often was he inclined to envy the Marquis that lot which had made his
+abiding place among these joys. It would have been fine to be a soldier,
+fine to fight and win glory; to wear boots and spurs and a clanking
+sword, and to trail the same along the pavement as one to the manner
+born!
+
+Of course, that was a day-dream, which he laughed at as easily as an
+older man might have done, though less scornfully. There was no great
+harm in day-dreams, however foolish. This whole existence had the
+character of a pleasant dream. Had he not felt it so, he often mentally
+averred, he would have accepted it more gravely.
+
+"But it will soon be over," he said to Natalie. "It is my first holiday
+since I was a boy."
+
+"Enjoy it all you can. I am glad that Adolphe has been able to make your
+stay pleasant."
+
+"Really, a very amiable little fellow. French, you know, and rather lax
+in his views, I fear; but----"
+
+"His views will not harm you," interrupted Natalie, smiling.
+
+"Certainly not," he replied, a little stiffly. "It would be strange if I
+could not take care of myself. Meanwhile, M. de Fleury is really of
+great advantage to me in one respect."
+
+"And that is?"
+
+"I am improving wonderfully in French. That's a good thing, Natalie, a
+very good thing." He was quite solemn on this point.
+
+"An excellent thing," she replied, somewhat surprised at the gravity
+with which he treated a matter of no great importance. "I wish, Leonard,
+that my affairs were concluded. I am sure you are being kept here
+against your wish."
+
+"Whatever my wish, your affairs ought to come first. Let us be content
+that, if they do drag, I can employ the time in self-improvement."
+
+Thus, in the praiseworthy pursuit of improvement Leonard spent much of
+his time. He was by no means neglectful of his wife, whose attendance,
+with the Marquise, was much in demand in official bureaus, and who
+encouraged his intimacy with the lieutenant, whom she no longer found
+unendurable, and whose amiable and forgiving conduct had won her heart.
+"They are not rich, you know," she said. "Entertain the little man all
+you can; the Marquise was very kind to me." An injunction which afforded
+another reason why it was incumbent on Leonard to procure the Marquis
+the distractions that he loved, in so far as purse and principle
+permitted, and these were found elastic.
+
+Because, as he was forced to admit when arguing with the Marquis, a
+reasonable elasticity is not only proper, but essential to culture.
+
+"_Mon bon_," observed the lieutenant, "the view you advance is narrow.
+The ballet, as a favorite spectacle of the people, should be studied by
+every student of morals. You, as a preacher----"
+
+Leonard laughed. "I'm not a preacher; I'm an instructor in a college of
+divinity."
+
+"_Eh bien!_ The greater reason. How shall one teach the good, knowing
+not the evil? _Du reste_, are they evil, _ces belles jambes_ of Coralie?
+They are fine creations, of pure nature; there is no padding."
+
+"You will be my guest, if we go?"
+
+"Since you insist; also to a _petit souper, a parti carré_, with Aimée
+and Louise. Coralie! _Sapristi_, no! Her maw is insatiable; the little
+ones are easily pleased."
+
+And so Leonard studied unpadded nature, even going alone a second, and
+perhaps a third time. As to the _petit souper_, it had been decorous;
+and beyond the fact that Mesdemoiselles Aimée and Louise were agreeable
+ladies with excellent appetites, his knowledge of these damsels did not
+extend.
+
+Of course, there were pursuits of a different character to engage his
+attention, and those which occurred under the guidance of the lieutenant
+were exceptional. There were the usual sights to be seen; galleries,
+monuments, churches, all to be wondered at, criticised and admired.
+Leonard approved generally, though, as to the churches, their tawdry
+interiors and the character of their embellishments offended his taste,
+as well as his religious sentiments. If, during these distractions, he
+was neglectful of the religious instruction which he knew his wife
+needed, circumstances were, to some extent, at fault. He could hardly
+expound doctrinal truths in a picture gallery, much less in a temple of
+Roman error. And, though not without qualms, he admitted to himself that
+he had little desire to discuss religion. There was, perhaps, no heinous
+sin in looking at the leg-gyrations of Mademoiselle Coralie, nor was
+Leonard the first wandering clergyman to embrace an offered opportunity
+to study ethics from the standpoint of that rigid moralist, the Marquis
+de Fleury; nevertheless, such studies had their effect in cooling
+religious fervor, and fervor is essential to him who would expound
+truth, with a view to compel conviction.
+
+Finally, as bearing on this question of the doctrinal instruction of his
+wife, he doubted whether it was worth while. Knowledge of doctrine was
+no adornment in women; there was Paula, whose pretensions in this regard
+constituted almost her only defect. Since Natalie was probably saved,
+why trouble himself and her with the exposition of mysteries which she
+would be unable to comprehend, and concerning which the injunction was
+laid that they be "handled with especial care." If she had heard the
+call it would be effectual; if she had not been born to salvation, all
+the doctrine which had been taught since the days of the fathers would
+not--and here his self-communing stopped. Damnation, though inevitable,
+is not an alluring subject of contemplation when it affects one's
+family.
+
+The complications attendant on Natalie's affairs prolonged the stay in
+Paris far beyond the period originally contemplated; but French method
+on one side of the Atlantic, and Mr. Winter on the other, were finally
+satisfied, after much passing to and fro of documents. Everybody
+interested was weary, and consular clerks had come to loathe the names
+of Natalie, Eugenie, Louise, Susan Beverley de Fleury Claghorn-Claghorn,
+_née_ de Fleury-Claghorn. As Leonard said, to be enabled to give the
+Marquise a receipt in full was a harder job than to negotiate a treaty.
+But it was done at last; Natalie had been resolute and Mr. Winter had
+protested in vain; the Marquise had her discharge and, relieved of many
+terrors, was duly grateful. "She has been charming, truly considerate,"
+she observed to her son. "Alas, Adolphe; it was a great loss."
+
+"There are others," replied the Marquis philosophically.
+
+"Heaven send it so. You must no longer delay speaking seriously to this
+good Leonarr, who might have influenced his wife to be the ogress
+desired by the abominable Winter. Urge him to look out for a _partie_ as
+soon as he arrives in America. I will speak to Natalie. I have heard her
+mention two demoiselles, Achsah and Tabitha."
+
+"_Ciel!_ The appellations."
+
+"But if the bearers are rich?"
+
+"_Tiens!_ mama. Madame Zho and _la belle_ Paula are in London. I might
+try there; it is not so far."
+
+"But _ce gros_ Marc is with them. Paula is for him, as you know."
+
+"He does not hurry himself, and truly I believe the little one would not
+be averse to me."
+
+"Better depend upon Monsieur Leonarr."
+
+And as a result of his mama's advice the lieutenant did, on that
+afternoon, broach the matter to Leonard, who, at first mystified, ended
+by roaring with laughter when he grasped the fact that the head of the
+House of de Fleury was making a provisional proposal for the hand and
+fortune of either Mademoiselle Tabitha, or Mademoiselle Achsah, as
+Leonard might advise.
+
+"_Diable!_" exclaimed the gallant youth, when Leonard had explained the
+cause of his hilarity, "over seventy and rich! What a country where such
+opportunities are neglected! Decidedly I must make the voyage."
+
+Leonard made no reply; the suggested picture of the noble Marquis as
+his guest in Hampton was not precisely alluring.
+
+"And so there is not a single demoiselle among the Claghorns that
+desires a title?"
+
+"Not one."
+
+"Alas!" sighed the Marquis. "I was too magnanimous. You know _la belle_
+Paula, of course. Listen, _mon ami_, but let your lips be sealed. _Elle
+etait folle de moi!_"
+
+"Paula! Crazy for you! You flatter----"
+
+"_Parole d'honneur._ It was in her eyes, in the plaintive cadence of her
+tones----"
+
+"But----"
+
+"I know--_ce polisson de Marc, toujours Marc_. Ah, the luck of this
+Marc! He has a mine of gold; he will have the charming Paula. Only you,
+_mon bon_, have beaten him. After all, it is for Marc and me to mingle
+our tears."
+
+"What do you mean by that?" asked Leonard sharply. "Why are you and Mark
+to mingle your tears?"
+
+"For the reason, _mon cher_, that we love to weep," replied the hussar,
+with an odd glance at Leonard. "Adieu, I have an appointment," and he
+turned abruptly down a side street, leaving Leonard astonished at his
+quick retreat.
+
+"Pshaw!" he exclaimed, after a moment. "It's absurd!" Then he pursued
+his way homeward.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+TO HIM I WILL BE HENCEFORTH TRUE IN ALL THINGS.
+
+
+Mrs. Joe and her train were in London, whither Mark had been summoned on
+business; and ever since Madame de Fleury had become aware of the fact
+she had urged the party to visit Paris. The Marquise, notwithstanding
+her sex, was not devoid of curiosity, and, aside from other advantages
+which might accrue to her from the presence of the lady of Stormpoint,
+she was anxious that a puzzle which had not a little mystified her be
+elucidated. When Mark had visited her after his chance meeting with
+Adolphe in the cafe, she had divined his feeling with regard to Natalie,
+and had at once jumped to the conclusion that it explained the flight of
+her ward. She recalled the intimacy which had existed between the
+cousins during the lifetime of the philosopher, an intimacy which she
+had gravely disapproved, and concerning which she had more than once
+remonstrated. She remembered, too, with vexation and a sense of injury,
+that the philosopher had soothed her solicitude for the interests of her
+son, by pleading the cousinly customs of Mark's country, as well as by
+pointing out the benefit which might accrue to her son by an increased
+dowry for his own daughter. Now all these hopes and rosy possibilities
+were extinguished; Natalie had appeared on the scene with a husband who
+was not Mark, and Mark and Paula were still unwed. These were all
+puzzling facts out of which there might be gathered some advantage for
+Adolphe. She had concealed from him the hopes which sometimes rose
+within her in contemplating the present state of affairs; but she was
+very anxious to know what that state portended. She had tried in vain to
+extract information from Natalie, and as to Leonard, the matter required
+delicate handling. Such inquiries as she had addressed to him had been
+of necessity vague, and from his answers she had derived no
+satisfaction. He had sometimes idly wondered what the lady was after,
+but until the allusion by the Marquis to a mutual mingling of tears by
+Mark and himself, Leonard had barely given the matter a thought. He
+understood now what the Marquis had implied, and saw the drift of the
+maternal questioning. He was annoyed, but only for a moment; he
+dismissed the subject as being of equal importance with the hussar's
+idea of Paula's infatuation for himself, concerning which he had no
+belief whatever.
+
+After the lieutenant had left him, Leonard pursued his way homeward,
+vaguely oppressed by a sense of gloom which he attributed to the
+weather, which had become lowering. He was near the Church of St. Roch
+when a shower drove him inside its portals for shelter.
+
+A few sightseers were wandering about the edifice; an occasional
+penitent occupied a chapel with lips close to the grating, on the other
+side of which was the ear of the absolver; in the body of the church a
+number knelt in prayer.
+
+He looked at these things with curiosity, not unmingled with scorn. His
+attention was attracted by a plainly dressed woman standing in a side
+aisle; to his surprise, he recognized his wife.
+
+She did not see him as he softly approached her. A sunbeam breaking
+through the clouds outside shone through a window and lit up her face,
+displaying to him a new expression, a look of yearning and of love which
+beautified it; a look he had never seen before; he recognized the fact
+with a vague sense of pain.
+
+That which he saw, like that which he felt, was but momentary. She
+turned, looking at him at first with an abstracted gaze, then startled,
+as though waking from a dream. "Leonard!" she exclaimed in a low voice.
+It sounded like fear.
+
+"Even so, my dear. Why are you here alone?"
+
+"I--I--don't know. I was tired."
+
+"Has this spectacle moved you so?" He pointed to the worshippers.
+
+"No, not that. I wish I were as good as they; I have watched them
+often."
+
+"Often?" he repeated. He was somewhat indignant at that wish, that she,
+his wife, were as good as these idolaters; but it was plain that she was
+deeply moved by something, and he was very tender. "Do you come here
+often?"
+
+"I have done so, Leonard." There was humility in her tone, there was
+confession; had he known it, there was a cry for aid.
+
+"Natalie," he said, with some reproach for her, and feeling not a little
+for himself, "I hope you are not attracted by the glitter of Romanism.
+Surely you can pray in your closet!"
+
+"I do not pray in the churches," she said. "I did not know that my
+visits to them would annoy you."
+
+"Not at all, my dear," he replied. "I can understand that you like to
+enjoy the architectural beauties and the solemn influence. But upon me
+the crucifixes, the holy water, the vestments--in short, the
+frippery--these things have a less agreeable effect. They savor of gross
+superstition."
+
+It was true that she did not pray in the churches. Something restrained
+her; perhaps the very memories which had invited her to these wanderings
+in dim shadows where so many vain aspirations had been breathed.
+Sometimes as she would pass a chapel where knelt a penitent, confessing
+to a hidden priest, a strong desire would come upon her to do as the
+penitent was doing. Yet why? Even to herself she had not yet admitted
+that she had aught to confess.
+
+They strolled slowly toward their hotel, Leonard silently reproaching
+himself that he had not sooner discovered and prevented this habit of
+haunting churches, a habit which might lead to lamentable results in one
+easily influenced by the external pomp and circumstance of Romanism.
+
+However, any danger that might exist would soon be passed. Before long
+they would be far beyond the subtle influences of priesthood, as well as
+other subtle influences which he felt were not altogether healthful. He
+sighed, a little regretfully; after all, pleasure was sweet.
+
+There had been some question whether they should await the possible
+arrival of Mrs. Joe. The discussion of this subject had been confined to
+himself and the Marquise, Natalie having displayed but a faint interest
+in the matter. Only that morning Madame de Fleury had informed him that
+the lady of Stormpoint had written to say that she and her party would
+come to Paris for a short stay and then accompany the Leonard Claghorns
+homeward. He was therefore surprised when Natalie suddenly exclaimed,
+"Leonard, let us go home!"
+
+"Do you mean we should not wait for Mrs. Joe?" he asked.
+
+"Why should we? She has Paula and the maids."
+
+"And Mark. He counts for something," suggested Leonard, laughing.
+
+"Of course; and if we wait for them, the waiting will never end. The
+Marquise will do all she can to keep them, and Paris is not so easily
+left. I foresee more difficulty in getting away gracefully, should they
+arrive while we are here, than if we go at once."
+
+"We can pass through London and explain," he suggested.
+
+"Let us go by Havre. I long to get away, and you ought to be home. I
+will write to Mrs. Joe. Let us decide now."
+
+She was strangely insistent, even agitated. He noticed it and assumed
+that she was depressed at the thought of leaving that which was her own
+country, and longed to get a painful separation over. To him it was a
+matter of indifference by what route they traveled, so long as Mrs.
+Joe's susceptibilities were not wounded; and Natalie, assuring him that
+her written explanation would prevent that misfortune, the matter was
+settled.
+
+He kissed her as they entered their apartment; for a moment she held her
+face close to his.
+
+That night, being alone and prostrate upon the floor of her room, where
+she had sunk, humiliated and ashamed, she uttered a vow to heaven:
+
+"To him I will be henceforth true in all things; in thought as in deed.
+Help me, heaven, to atone, by surrendering to him and in his service
+every act and every thought."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+MRS. JOE ON CLERICAL BUMPTIOUSNESS AND MRS. FENTON'S SHOULDERS.
+
+
+The family of Stormpoint remained abroad until long after Leonard and
+his wife were established in the old Morley mansion in Hampton, finally
+returning to America without Mark, who remained in England, ostensibly
+on business connected with the Great Serpent. He had done nothing to
+advance his mother's wishes with regard to Paula, assuming that the lady
+had by this time recognized the futility of her hopes, and like the wise
+woman he knew her to be, had become reconciled to the inevitable. She
+was even wiser than he knew, and a part of her wisdom was to trust to
+the future. She would admit defeat when she found herself defeated,
+meanwhile acquiescing to all seeming in things as they were, placidly
+listening to Paula's confidences as to that celibate sisterhood which
+the damsel hoped some day to found, but which, as Mrs. Joe said to
+herself, was not founded yet.
+
+Mark had extracted a promise both from his mother and from Paula that
+their letters should contain "all the news of all the Claghorns,"
+meaning perhaps Mrs. Leonard Claghorn; and when the first letter came
+from his mother he opened it eagerly and read: first a great deal of
+political advice (at second hand from Mr. Hacket), and toward the end of
+the epistle, matter of greater interest.
+
+"As to Leonard" (wrote the lady), "I fear marriage has not improved him.
+Natalie makes the mistake of coddling him too much. Her notion of wifely
+duty is extravagant. In their house a thousand things are done for
+Leonard's comfort, all thought of by his wife, and her eyes follow him
+about as though she were constantly on the watch to anticipate his
+wants. She is very quiet in manner and seems rather to wish to echo
+Leonard's opinions than to have opinions of her own; all of which has
+other than a pleasing effect on Leonard. I suppose, too, that he has
+arrived at an age (somewhat late in his case) in which the fact of his
+own manliness is the most important fact of existence. He has not been
+improved by contact with quite another world than that of Hampton, the
+world of Adolphe de Fleury, in which he seems to have mingled rather
+surprisingly. One would hardly recommend the allurements of Paris in
+such companionship to a young theologian. You know the angels in
+Paradise fell, though I do not mean to imply that Paris is paradise, or
+Leonard an angel, fallen or otherwise; but his engaging innocence is
+gone; perhaps it was inevitable. I am sorry to see in its place an undue
+amount of the bumptiousness often affected by members of his profession.
+It is quite distressing to think that he should degenerate, he who was
+so beautiful to look at, so gentle, yet so strong--in short, so
+naturally refined--a word, by the way, which I dislike, but it expresses
+the idea. He is not so refined as he was; he is less pleasing to the
+eye, there is a shadow of something in his face which I do not like--and
+I do _not_ like the way with which he looks at Paula.
+
+"There, Mark, I have been long in coming to it--but you are not to
+misunderstand me. I don't believe Leonard has a thought which could be
+regarded as injurious to Natalie, but I don't think he regards feminine
+beauty with the eyes one likes to see. I gave a little dinner a few
+evenings since; only the Stanleys, the Fentons, Father Cameril and the
+Leonard Claghorns. You remember Mrs. Fenton's style; her shoulders (very
+beautiful they are--I say shoulders) too much in evidence for my taste.
+Leonard hardly took his eyes off of them. Father Cameril, on the
+contrary, hardly knew what to do with his to avoid seeing them, and I
+don't know which of the pair made me most angry. I remember when Leonard
+would have been oblivious of shoulders.
+
+"He is rather truculent, too, is Mr. Leonard, and fell foul of poor
+Father Cameril in a manner which roused even Paula, on the subject of
+the Apostolic Succession--in short, I never saw him at such a
+disadvantage, and I'm afraid my indignation has carried my pen away.
+
+"Natalie is lovely. A little sad at times. She confided to me a secret
+which no doubt accounts for her rather noticeable pensiveness. There
+will be a baby in the old Morley house before the year is out."
+
+Mark pondered over his mother's letter often, and with more misgiving
+than behooved a man interested in his neighbor only in ordinary
+neighborly fashion. He did full justice to his mother's shrewd
+observation, and believed that her letter was intended to convey more
+than appeared on the surface, and his self-communings in reference
+thereto were not cheerful.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+INTRODUCES DR. STANLEY, SATAN AND THE PRAYER MEETING OF MATRONS.
+
+
+Mrs. Leonard Claghorn had been graciously received by the matrons of
+Hampton. She was so interesting (they said), so foreign; and careful
+cross-examination of those who had penetrated into the inner sanctuaries
+of the Morley mansion had established the fact that there was not a
+crucifix in the house. On the whole, the matrons were content. Surely,
+the wife of a young professor, so thoroughly grounded in the faith as
+was Leonard--though his prominence in the Seminary, in view of his
+youth, might be deprecated by some--such a one could not remain
+heretical, even if her religious education had been defective. How
+awfully defective these excellent ladies did not know.
+
+On her part, Natalie had been no less gracious. "She'll be one of them
+in a year," said Mrs. Joe, alluding to the matrons. "She'll be whatever
+Leonard says."
+
+"I wish Father Cameril could talk with her," sighed Paula.
+
+"He lost his chance when he contradicted Leonard at my dinner."
+
+"She certainly is very loyal to her husband," admitted Paula.
+
+"Altogether too subservient," observed Mrs. Joe testily. "No woman
+should permit her whole nature to be absorbed in that manner. No wonder
+he's bumptious."
+
+"Bumptious!"
+
+"Conceited. Pliancy, Paula, is a virtue in a wife. I was pliant myself;
+still the most devoted of wives ought to have an opinion of her own."
+
+"Natalie is so sweet," urged the extenuating Paula.
+
+"Sweet! So are you; so was I; so was Tabitha Cone to the man that gave
+her that monstrous watch--but sweetness may be sickening."
+
+"Oh, Cousin Alice!"
+
+"It irritates me, because it's not Natalie's true character. She had a
+mind of her own once, and a good one. Actually, she's superior to
+Leonard----"
+
+"He's a very brilliant man, Cousin."
+
+"To look at, and glib; but inferior to his wife. Men generally are. Yet
+she effaces herself. She overdoes her loyalty. She is playing a part!"
+
+"Cousin Alice!" remonstrated Paula.
+
+"I don't mean she's consciously a hypocrite, and you needn't flare.
+She's imbibed some absurd notions of wifely duty, and is trying to carry
+them out."
+
+An impression made upon an observer as keen as Mrs. Joe must have a
+foundation. In her irritation the lady had expressed the truth. Natalie
+was playing a part.
+
+Since the day in St. Roch when she, recalling a day long past, had lost
+herself in a dream of what might have been--since then she had been
+playing a part, the part of a penitent; the role she had assumed when
+later, in humiliation and conscience-stricken, she had prostrated
+herself before heaven, vowing the only atonement possible.
+
+She had seen the beginning of that change in Leonard which remained a
+cause of irritation to Mrs. Joe; nor had she been ignorant of the
+influences to which it was in part to be ascribed; but her conscience
+had whispered that in very truth the effect of those influences was to
+be attributed to herself. In her marriage an essential element had been
+absent, and was wanting still. To complete that holy mystery and adorn
+it with its rarer graces, to tinge its atmosphere with consecrated
+incense, there must be spiritual union. If Leonard had not learned of
+nobler joys than the lesser gratification that engaged his thoughts, was
+it not because such joys had not been offered?
+
+To those religious teachings which had been deferred she now looked
+forward as to the means whereby both could attain to that higher union
+which she craved, and which when attained would surely soothe her
+troubled spirit and aid in that atonement prescribed by her conscience
+and which she had vowed, and of which the subservience disapproved by
+Mrs. Joe was a minor manifestation. So, though timidly, for his
+reluctance (so strange to her) was apparent, she sought to bring Leonard
+to discussion of religious subjects.
+
+"Was Jonathan Edwards a great man?" she asked one day, and then
+regretted her question, for at that passage of arms which had occurred
+at Mrs. Joe's table, Father Cameril had mentioned the name, a fact
+forgotten until it was recalled to her memory by the lowering brow of
+Leonard.
+
+"A great man, indeed!" he answered; "an apostle of truth. Chattering
+imbeciles like Father Cameril may tell you differently."
+
+"I was not thinking of Father Cameril. I read the title of your article,
+'Jonathan Edwards, a Man Athirst for God.'"
+
+"So he was; and one who slaked his thirst at the well of knowledge. A
+great and good man, Natalie, though shallow reasoners are glad to deny
+the merit of the greatest of metaphysicians. The truth is they're afraid
+of him."
+
+"Why afraid?"
+
+"Because his logic is inexorable, the unassailable truth he utters not
+lovely to all hearers. Edwards declines to abate one jot or tittle of
+God's message. It has become the fashion even among men of greater
+intellect than Mr. Cameril has been endowed with to avoid Edwards,
+but----"
+
+"I should think all would crave the truth. I would like to read him."
+
+"Not now," he said, kissing her. "Dr. Stanley advises steering clear of
+Edwards," he continued, laughing, "though not for the usual reasons. You
+must follow the fashion for awhile, Natalie."
+
+He knew that public opinion would expect, and in time demand, his wife's
+union with the church. Had she been trained from childhood in orthodox
+tenets her preparedness for the sacrament would have been presumed, and,
+at some convenient season, when souls are garnered as crops are
+garnered, it being assumed that they ripen like the fruits of the
+earth, she would have been duly gathered to the fold with those other
+members of the congregation whose time for experiencing religion had
+come. But there was no presumption of early instruction in Natalie's
+case.
+
+He would have been better pleased if his position had not required
+deference to that opinion which would demand Natalie's entrance into the
+doctrinal fold. If she were chosen for salvation, what difference could
+it make whether she was instructed as to the Confession or not? Where
+were the women that were so instructed? Nowhere. They had some phrases
+and some faint recollection of Sabbath-school lessons, but as to any
+real knowledge of the mysteries they professed, he knew that the laymen
+of his denomination were in general as ignorant as those puppets of the
+Romish priesthood who left such matters to their betters. And secretly
+he regarded this as the correct system. He was not sorry that he had a
+valid excuse for avoiding domestic theological discussion in the dictum
+of Dr. Stanley.
+
+The doctor, who had been present on the occasion when Leonard had fallen
+foul of Father Cameril, and who had been amused at the husband's
+truculence, had also noted the anxious look of the wife. He had known
+Leonard almost since boyhood and liked him; he was, for reasons of his
+own, especially interested in Leonard's wife.
+
+Doctor Stanley's position in Hampton was not unlike that of Satan in the
+world. He was endured of necessity and his services called in
+requisition, because in certain straits there was no getting along
+without him. "The parsons don't want to go to heaven," he would say,
+"any more than the rest of us, so when they're sick they call me in, and
+when they're well they smile on me; but, if I weren't a doctor, Hampton
+would be too hot to hold me." All of which, if true, was because Dr.
+Stanley was troubled with a theological itch of his own, and, though
+calling God the "Unknowable," claimed knowledge with as much confidence
+as his orthodox rivals, and with equal truculence. He was at some
+disadvantage in his public onslaughts on Hamptonian strongholds, since
+his followers were few; but at occasional lectures, the meagre proceeds
+whereof went to sustain a Mechanics' Library, founded by the doctor for
+the behoof of philosophical plumbers and carpenters, he sometimes
+charged upon the foe with great gallantry, if but little effect. In his
+private capacity he was genial, amiable and good-hearted, and, if hated
+as an infidel, was loved as a man. As a physician, the general faith in
+his skill was nearly unbounded.
+
+His wife, who laughed at him and loved him, was that Lettie Stanley of
+whose ultimate salvation Miss Claghorn had grave doubt. She was, if
+unhappily "passed by," still of the elect race, and Miss Achsah, on the
+occasion of her union with the doctor, had expressed the opinion that
+the Reverend Josias Claghorn, father of the unfortunate, had celebrated
+the nuptials by turning in his grave. It was not known that she was,
+like her husband, an absolute unbeliever, since she sometimes appeared
+at public worship, and there were among the ladies of Hampton one or two
+who maintained that she was a pious woman. However, it was certain that
+she was heterodox, a grievous circumstance which gave great and just
+cause of offense to these descendants of the original seekers after
+liberty of conscience. She was active in charitable work, and though
+admitted to the Shakespeare Society, was not a member of any of the
+distinctly denominational organizations. She had been invited to the
+"Thursday Prayer Meeting of Matrons," and had declined, flippantly, the
+matrons proclaimed, and on the ground that though she was willing to be
+prayed for, she did not wish to be prayed at. For the rest, she was a
+handsome woman of middle age, with large, tender eyes and a cheery
+disposition, tinged with a certain melancholy, which some called
+cynicism.
+
+This lady had also noted with disapproval Leonard's manner on the
+occasion of Mrs. Joe's dinner. "He's getting spoiled," she had observed
+to her husband, as they left the hospitable mansion.
+
+"Theological manner," replied the doctor. "They can't help it. Cameril
+would have been as bad, if he dared. What do you think of Leonard's
+wife?"
+
+"A beautiful woman, who adores her husband. I wonder why her eyes are
+sad?"
+
+"Her eyes are like yours."
+
+"Pshaw, Doctor; I'm an old woman----"
+
+"That's nonsense. She not only resembles you as to eyes, but in
+disposition."
+
+"Of course you know all about her disposition."
+
+"It's my business to know. Mrs. Leonard's my patient, and her
+idiosyncrasies----"
+
+"Are doubtless interesting, as pertaining to a handsome woman; but how
+do they resemble mine?"
+
+"She's a religious enthusiast."
+
+"Well!" ejaculated the lady; "after years of observation that is your
+wise conclusion. I won't say tell that to the marines, which would be
+undignified, but tell it to the Hampton matrons."
+
+"The matrons of Hampton know nothing of religion; they're theologians."
+
+The lady laughed. "If she is really like I was at her age, I am sorry
+for her. Had I married a man like Leonard----"
+
+"My dear, with your excellent taste you did much better; but I thought
+Leonard was a favorite of yours."
+
+"I like him, but I detest his creed."
+
+"You don't suppose he believes it?"
+
+"He says he does, which is of more consequence."
+
+"How can any human being believe the Westminster Confession?"
+
+"I don't suppose any human being does. It's a question of obstinacy,
+pride; a question of being caught in a trap."
+
+The doctor laughed.
+
+"You, my dear," continued the lady, "lack religious sentiment. You don't
+care. _I_ cannot help being indignant when I see religion desecrated by
+religionists. It may be from the same feeling that I am sorry for a
+woman who adores her husband, and who must eventually find him out."
+
+"Find him out! My dear----"
+
+"I mean find out that he's not all that she has pictured. Leonard is a
+very ordinary mortal."
+
+"But, on the whole, a very good fellow."
+
+"Undoubtedly, but--a theologian of Hampton. I don't think you
+appreciate all that that may chance to mean to a woman you are pleased
+to call a religious enthusiast--meaning, I suppose, a woman who really
+craves religion."
+
+"You must not take a word too seriously. The fact is that Mrs. Leonard
+has what may be termed an exalted temperament. One day I found her in
+tears and with traces of great agitation. She had been reading a book of
+ecstatic character. I hinted to Leonard that just now that sort of thing
+wouldn't do----"
+
+"You were quite right. I remember that I suffered----"
+
+"I don't mean to say that the lady had been suffering; on the contrary,
+I think she'd been having a good time. The book, by the way, was the
+life of some Roman saint--but good times of that sort are not to be
+indulged in by a lady about to have a baby."
+
+"What did Leonard say?"
+
+"Oh, he was amenable--more so than I expected. Of course, I said nothing
+about the Catholic book. Leonard is like prospective fathers, easily
+scared. They are much more tractable than prospective mothers; so I
+scared him."
+
+The more easily that Leonard had been willing to be scared.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+THE MUSIC OF THE CHORUS OF THE ANGUISH OF THE DAMNED.
+
+
+"Socrates," observed Miss Achsah, "is damned."
+
+"If _you_ say so, he must be," was the sarcastic rejoinder of Tabitha
+Cone.
+
+Miss Claghorn, with a stern gaze at her companion, opened Hodge's
+Commentary on The Confession of Faith and read: "'The heathen in mass,
+with no single, definite and unquestioned example on record, are
+evidently strangers to God and going down to death in an unsaved
+condition.' That," she said, "settles Socrates."
+
+It did not settle Tabitha, whose question touched the weak spot in
+Hodge's assertion. "Where'd he see the record?" she asked.
+
+"Tabitha," remonstrated Miss Achsah with evident sincerity, "sometimes I
+doubt your election. The audacity of setting up _your_ opinion----"
+
+Tabitha was human and venerated print. She was a little frightened at
+her own temerity, and Miss Claghorn's seriousness did not tend to
+reassure her. "There's Brigston," she said weakly.
+
+"Yes; and there's 'Greenland's Icy Mountains,' and 'India's Coral
+Strand,'" answered the lady pertinently, and closing the book and the
+discussion.
+
+But, if closed at the White House, it raged furiously in the theological
+world. Until recently the permanent abode of Socrates had been as well
+known as that of Satan. No decree, whether of Roman or Protestant Pope,
+had been needed to establish a fact settled to the satisfaction of all
+(except, perhaps, to that of the Athenian sage) by the Eternal Decree of
+Omnipotence. It was reserved for a deluded doctor of the rival Seminary
+of Brigston to promulgate doubts of a self-evident truth. Such an
+affront to Westminster and the immutable justice of God was not to be
+borne in silence by Hampton.
+
+A storm of unexampled fury burst from theological clouds, and Leonard,
+sniffing the odor of battle, joyously saw that his day had dawned. Into
+the fray he plunged, a gallant knight armed with the sword of orthodoxy,
+battling in the name of God and by the lurid light of hell, in order
+that the music of the chorus of the anguish of the damned might still
+arise, a dulcet melody, to heaven.
+
+And while the din of the holy war filled the air, Natalie welcomed a
+little babe, the light of whose clear blue eyes melted her soul in
+tenderness. To look into their celestial purity was to see heaven's
+glory reflected in the azure depths. The deeper springs of tenderness,
+closed to the rude touch of Leonard's passion, were opened, and love
+undefiled gushed forth in a stream of unspeakable gladness. Her health
+remained delicate, and she was long confined to the house, but, aside
+from a pleasant languor, being physically at ease, she found in the care
+of the infant sufficient occupation. She was glad that she could be much
+alone with the boy, and held many and sweet communings with that soul
+she had discovered in his eyes. She never wearied of reading the mystery
+of those clear depths and, always connecting the child with heaven, in
+her simple belief, imagining the newcomer as lately from that blissful
+region, she built upon her fancies a system of theology which would have
+startled and confounded the Hampton Matrons. And, as before, in sight of
+the grandeur of God upon the waters, Leonard's lower self had been
+humbled, so now, the beauty of a pure soul, all its glory set forth in
+motherhood, chastened his earthly nature, and he bowed with the
+reverence of simple souls to saints.
+
+Leonard's creed was, as is the case with creeds, a matter apart from his
+life; wherefore there was nothing strange in the fact that he could
+leave the presence of the two pure creatures, and retiring to his study,
+damn countless souls to hell in essays of exceeding force and
+brilliancy. Young as he was, all Hampton gloried in these labors whereby
+Brigston was smitten and abashed. There were champions more learned,
+being older; but, being older, their pens were encumbered with caution
+and hampered by the knowledge that pitfalls and traps lurk in the dark
+thickets of theological controversy. But Leonard had the daring of
+youth. Logic was logic, and truth not for a day, but eternal. Truth led
+to the Westminster Confession, which damns the great majority, Socrates
+included. To quibble with the plain meaning of plain words would be to
+follow the heretical Brigstonian, to deny the inspiration of Scripture,
+to be a traitor to his party and his creed. If the same decree which
+damned Socrates consigned the great majority of his own friends and
+acquaintances to the same everlasting misery, it couldn't be helped.
+And, in fact, there was no reason why Leonard should shrink from that
+which thousands of men and women profess to believe, yet marry and bring
+forth children doomed, the while eating dinner in content.
+
+Echoes of the merry war reached Natalie, but her curiosity was but
+faintly stirred. She saw that Leonard avoided the topic when alone with
+her, and was now content to learn nothing from her husband; seeing in
+her child her best teacher in heavenly lore. Her exhibition of maternal
+love extorted some disapproving comment; Mrs. Joe called it "uncanny,"
+Tabitha said she was a queer mother, Miss Claghorn disapprovingly
+likened her adoration to Romanism--"Idolatry," she said to Tabitha.
+
+"Yet," replied Tabitha, "she hardly ever hugs or kisses him. She just
+looks at him, and if you catch her at it she passes it off."
+
+"Just as you or I might if the cook were to come in while we were saying
+our prayers."
+
+"Something 'ill happen to the child," said Tabitha ominously.
+
+Miss Claghorn did not dispute it; the two were so perfectly in accord as
+to their sentiment in this matter that there was no chance for dispute.
+
+Thus, in a strange, secret relation, mother and child lived more than a
+year together, and then Tabitha Cone's oracular prophecy was fulfilled.
+Something happened to the child, which something was death; and Natalie
+was stricken as by a thunderbolt.
+
+The most alarming phase of her illness was of short duration; she had
+been long unconscious, and during that period they who watched her had
+noticed, with something akin to awe, the heavenly peacefulness and sweet
+smile of her face. From her mutterings they gathered that she roamed in
+celestial regions with her boy. Dr. Stanley was evidently not favorably
+impressed with these supposed visions, and as soon as it was feasible
+ordered her removal to Stormpoint, where the sun shone brighter than in
+the old house, and where there would be fewer reminders of her loss.
+
+Leonard, who had been severely stricken by the death of the child and
+worn with anxiety on his wife's account, acquiesced. The complete change
+of scene which the physician desired involved his absence from her side.
+"Of course you'll visit her daily, if you choose," said the doctor, "but
+if you are constantly together she will inevitably talk of the child and
+of heaven, and we must keep her away from heaven." Natalie remonstrated,
+but rather feebly. Since the birth of the child Mrs. Joe had seen less
+cause to complain of undue absorption in the husband by the wife. Thus,
+to keep Natalie from contemplation of heaven, Leonard returned to
+contemplation of hell; for the war still raged, though with some
+slackness. Leonard girded up his loins and prepared to inject the spirit
+which had somewhat diminished during his own absence from the lines of
+battle.
+
+The mistress of Stormpoint watched her new inmate keenly. "It's natural
+that she should love her child, even though he's dead," she said to
+Paula, "but she talks with him. I heard her."
+
+"Her faith is perfect," exclaimed Paula with solemn enthusiasm. "She
+knows he lives forever."
+
+"That's all very well; but he don't live at Stormpoint."
+
+"She feels his presence, though she cannot see him."
+
+"She says she does. Of course, it's fiddlesticks; but the doctor ought
+to know."
+
+And the doctor, being informed, agreed with Mrs. Joe that conversation
+with angels was not to be encouraged. "A very little roast beef and a
+great deal of fresh air," was his prescription, "A trip somewhere when
+she is stronger. Meanwhile, keep bores away--Father Cameril and
+Leonard."
+
+"I can't lock Leonard out."
+
+"I wish you could; he has a grievance and may be tempted to unburden his
+soul to his wife."
+
+"I have heard of no grievance."
+
+"You will; the reaction has come. Yesterday they crowned him with
+laurels; to-day they are damning him--of course, in parliamentary
+phrase--from the president of the Seminary down to the janitor."
+
+"Impossible! Why, Doctor, only a few days since Dr. Burley spoke of him
+in the highest terms."
+
+"A few days since! Ask him now. Leonard has played the frog to Burley's
+ox. It was right to confute Brigston with Greek texts; they produced a
+good deal of fog and little illumination. But Leonard must shove himself
+in as interpreter between the heavyweights and the populace. Of course
+his action was abhorrent; it is to me. There ought to be an _esprit de
+corps_ in all professions. I shouldn't approve if some young medical
+spark were to give away _our_ secrets."
+
+The physician, if flippantly, spoke the truth. Leonard had been rash, as
+youth is wont to be. Wise and venerable heads had from the beginning
+wagged in disapproval of his excess of zeal. To bury the Brigstonian
+deep beneath the fragments of his own exploded logic was well, but it
+was also well to be wary, to lay no hasty hand upon and drag forth
+mysteries which could not bear the light of day. Leonard was brilliant;
+but brilliancy was not caution. Theological argumentation, to be
+convincing, must be obscure; mystification, rather than conviction, is
+the prop of faith.
+
+"I'm sorry he's in trouble," observed the lady.
+
+The doctor shrugged his shoulders. "Inevitable!" he exclaimed. "He's
+obstinate and conceited. His last pamphlet, 'Dr. Burley's True Meaning,'
+is monstrous. What right had he to give Burley away in that manner? If
+Burley had wanted to state his meaning, wouldn't he have done it?
+Leonard swallows the whole Westminster Confession at a gulp, and points
+out that Hampton and Burley do the same thing. What maladroit
+presumption! He ought to know that Hampton only bolts the morsel
+because it must. Its contortions during the process of deglutition ought
+to be charitably concealed. Who is Leonard that he should tear away the
+veil which hides a harrowing spectacle?"
+
+Which burst of eloquence was not wholly intelligible to the lady, who,
+however, saw the need of dragging the doctor down from his hobby. "Well,
+he must not discuss these matters with his wife," she said, "if you
+disapprove."
+
+"No. For ladies in the condition of our patient the Westminster
+Confession is too lurid. Needless to say to a matron of your experience
+that in the case of a bereaved young mother the brain should not be
+excited, the affections over-stimulated, the fancy be allowed to rove at
+will, either amid the joys of heaven or the horrors of hell."
+
+Wherefore Paula was instructed to avoid conversation concerning themes
+celestial or infernal, and was thus deprived of a pleasure; for there
+had been much loving talk between her and Natalie concerning the child,
+now abiding in heavenly regions. Perhaps Natalie sorrowed a little,
+noting that Paula no longer lingered over the favorite topic; if so, she
+made no comment; her thoughts were her own.
+
+"What is true marriage?" she asked one day.
+
+"I--I don't know," replied Paula, taken unawares, and not sure whether
+this new topic were celestial or infernal. "Celibacy, as the ideal
+state----"
+
+"A wife vows obedience," interrupted Natalie--she had heard Paula before
+on celibacy--"that's a small matter. Who wouldn't be obedient?"
+
+"But, suppose a husband were to require something wrong," suggested
+Paula, disturbed by the fleeting vision of a wife of St. Perpetua
+deprived of fish on Fridays by a wicked spouse.
+
+"He wouldn't be a true husband. My ideal of marriage is unity in all
+things--tastes, hopes, beliefs----"
+
+"Belief, of course. And to the realization of that ideal a churchwoman
+would lead her husband."
+
+"Or, if the husband were the better Christian, he would lead his wife."
+
+After due consideration, Paula repeated the monosyllable "if?"
+
+"And, if he showed no disposition to lead his wife, which might be the
+case for some good reason, she ought to try and attain his standpoint.
+Then she would evince that perfect sympathy which all the while the
+husband may be longing for."
+
+"I--I suppose so," replied Paula, always dreading an approach toward
+forbidden ground.
+
+"If a wife had wronged her husband, even without intention," Natalie
+went on, after a considerable pause, "that fact would stand in the way
+of complete sympathy."
+
+"There could be no wrong without intention--that is, no fault."
+
+"But still a wrong; one that the doer might find it harder to forgive
+than the sufferer. If you were my wife. Paula----"
+
+"Say husband," said Paula, laughing, "and since you find obedience so
+easy, I order you to prepare to let me drive you to the White House in
+the pony-phaeton."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+CURSING AND BEATING HER BREAST, SHE FELL UPON THE GRAVE.
+
+
+Mrs. Joe sought, and very easily obtained, Leonard's confidence in
+regard to the grievance to which Dr. Stanley had alluded. Hampton had
+been only too glad, so he averred, to accept his aid in overcoming
+Brigston; and if that was in the way of accomplishment (and who could
+deny it?) the fact was more attributable to him (Leonard) than to any
+other man. "I simply popularized Dr. Burley's learned, but certainly
+obscurely-written article, giving its author full credit; and now he
+says I misrepresented him, and his complaint is echoed by every toady in
+Hampton. The papers, even the secular papers, are actually making sport
+of me."
+
+"But Dr. Burley can't deny what he wrote."
+
+Even Leonard smiled at her simplicity. "He can deny what I wrote,
+although, in other words, it is exactly what he wrote. And that is
+morally just as bad."
+
+The lady was full of sympathy; the more so as his "bumptiousness" was
+gone. He had been plainly deeply wounded, yet out of consideration for
+his wife, he had borne his grief in silence. In Mrs. Joe's eyes this
+abnegation deserved recognition. There was a way by which he could
+humiliate his enemies, and yet be of so much importance that they would
+not venture to show resentment. She had, as we know, already "worked the
+Seminary" in behoof of her "policy." She could work it a little more,
+and help both Leonard and herself. Her donations to the library had not
+heretofore been of large amounts, for she shrank from ostentation, but
+she had always intended to be magnificent on some convenient occasion.
+By being so through Leonard, she could avoid display and yet possess its
+advantages, for the Seminary authorities would, of course, know the
+source of a donation from a modestly anonymous lady, coming through the
+hands of Leonard.
+
+So this matter was easily arranged. "And," suggested the lady, "after
+you have given notice of the donation and have heaped coals on Dr.
+Burley's head, go away for awhile. It will do you good, and they can
+think their conduct over."
+
+The idea appealed to Leonard, who saw the situation dramatically; but
+when Mrs. Joe proposed that he accompany herself, Paula and Natalie on a
+visit to Mrs. Leon at Newport, he declined with some perturbation. "I'll
+go to New York," he said. And, on the whole, Mrs. Joe thought this was
+best, though she was surprised.
+
+She was glad when he had departed, believing that his absence would have
+the effect of rousing Natalie from a condition incompatible with the
+life of every day, in that it would result in wholesome longing for her
+husband. And the politic lady soon saw her hope justified. Leonard had
+been gone but a day when Natalie announced a desire to return to her own
+house; not to remain, but to order some domestic arrangements, more
+especially with the view of making Leonard's study more attractive than
+it had been, even in those days of "coddling" which Mrs. Joe had once
+found objectionable, but whose returning symptoms she now hailed with
+approval.
+
+At Natalie's request she was driven past the cemetery, where she
+alighted, and, bidding the coachman wait, she sought her child's grave.
+Some tears came to her eyes as she laid flowers on the still fresh earth
+and stood for many minutes leaning on the headstone. Her thoughts were
+far away. In a room in Paris she saw a woman humbled by a consciousness
+of wrong; and here, at the most sacred spot on earth, she renewed her
+vow of atonement.
+
+She returned slowly to the carriage and was driven to the Morley
+mansion, where she was welcomed with effusion by the maids. From them
+she for the first time learned that her husband had often worked far
+into the night, and while listening to their comments, she reproached
+herself that she had left him alone. The house, with its closed
+shutters, was gloomy even on this bright day; what had it been in the
+long nights?
+
+She instructed the servants to prepare a light luncheon for her at noon
+and leave it on the dining table, paying no further heed to her. She
+intended, she said, to arrange her husband's books.
+
+But first she went upstairs. There beside her bed was the child's crib,
+cheerless without its sheets and embroidery. The empty room, from which
+daylight was nearly excluded chilled her. The rugs were removed and her
+heels clicked sharply on the bare floor, making hollow echoes as she
+walked. She overcame the oppressive sense of desolation and went about
+her tasks.
+
+She put the child's trinkets away; the spoon which had been useless, the
+cup from which he had never drunk, the gold chain given by Mrs. Joe, and
+which, partaking of the nature of the Great Serpent, had been found too
+heavy for agreeable wear; these were laid among her treasures. His
+clothes, except the little gown he had worn when dying, were put aside
+to be sent to poor women, already mothers or about to become such.
+Leonard had once suggested kindly that they were too fine. "The mothers
+won't think so," she had replied.
+
+This work finished, she closed the door of the room and walked down the
+broad, old-fashioned stairway, every foot-fall echoing through the
+ancient house of which she seemed to be the only occupant; and though
+she knew the maids were at their tasks and within reach, the impression
+affected her unpleasantly. She glanced more than once over her shoulder
+as she descended the staircase and walked through the echoing hall.
+
+She entered the library--a large room, dedicated, at least nominally,
+even in the days of Jeremiah Morley, to its present purpose, and later,
+by Cousin Jared and her husband, lined from floor to ceiling with books,
+a cheerful room when lighted, but now, with bare floor and closed
+shutters, a gloomy vault in whose distant corners, where the shadows
+were dark, the spirits of former occupants might lurk and peer at this
+invader. The uncanny impressions that had been with her were deepened by
+the sombre fancies awakened by the aspect of the room, in which the
+confusion attendant on Leonard's labors was everywhere apparent. Books
+were everywhere--on chairs, on tables, on the floor, face downward in
+the shelves.
+
+She took up a small volume. Its evident antiquity attracted her and she
+read the title-page: "Delay Not; or, A Call to the Careless," by the
+Reverend Eliphalet Claghorn. Numerous names on the fly-leaves disclosed
+that the book had been handed down through many Claghorns. The last name
+was her husband's; preceding that his father's, to whom it had been
+given, as testified by the inscription, by "E. Beverley Claghorn." E.
+Beverley Claghorn, she knew, had been her own father. Turning the pages,
+her attention was arrested.
+
+She read for hours. Sunk in a heap on the floor, forgotten by the
+servants, her eyes gloated on the page written by her ancestor. No
+romance had ever enchained her attention as did all this "Call to the
+Careless." If the writer had so charmed the reader of his own
+generation, the dead hand that had composed the pages which held this
+reader spell-bound must have been guided by a brain cunning in the
+author's craft. Whatever was the story, the woman lived in its terrors;
+she cowered and moaned, her eyes stood out, and her face was a face
+distorted by the horror of a soul in fear. But she could not leave the
+story. Enthralled until the last page had been turned, she only then
+looked up, and her eyes, which that morning had been bright with the
+light of hope, born of the resolve to resume her duties as a wife, were
+now dull with the shadow of an awful dread.
+
+She glanced fearfully around and tried to rise, but crouched again upon
+the floor, one hand still clutching book and dust-cloth, the other held
+as though to shield her from a blow. She uttered no word, but a strange,
+hoarse rattle came from her throat, as though she would have prayed, had
+her voice been at her command. At last she rose, half staggering,
+retreating backward toward the door, as though she feared some presence,
+and, not daring to turn, must face it. Thus she passed out of the room
+and from the house.
+
+She walked, at first, with uncertain steps, then more firmly, and with
+ever swifter stride. The by-streets through which she passed were quiet,
+almost deserted; she was hardly noticed, though in one or two observers
+a faint curiosity was aroused by the figure of the well-dressed, hatless
+woman, be-aproned and clasping to her breast a dust-cloth and a book. As
+for her, she noticed nothing as she hastened on.
+
+Without pause, with ever-increasing pace, which had now become a run,
+she entered the gates of the cemetery, threading its alleys, seeing
+nothing with her bodily eyes; for their horror and despair were no
+reflection of the mournful yet peaceful scene in which she passed. She
+came to the grave of her child. Again she crouched as she had done in
+the library of her home; her despairing eyes were turned upward and her
+hands raised in appeal to the serene and pitiless sky.
+
+Words came to her in the language of her childhood. "My God," she cried,
+"Fiend that dwellest beyond the sky, have mercy. Pitiless Father, who
+didst condemn thy Son for sport, whose nostrils love the scent of
+burning men, whose ears find music in their agony, whose eyes gloat upon
+their writhings, take me to thy hell of torment and release my child."
+
+And so, with frantic blasphemy, cursing God and beating her breast, she
+fell forward upon the baby's grave.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+DR. STANLEY DISCOURSES CONCERNING THE DIVERSIONS OF THE SAINTS.
+
+
+At the hour agreed upon, Mrs. Joe left Stormpoint to fetch Natalie. As
+the latter had done in the morning, and in order to inspect the
+newly-erected headstone, she alighted from her carriage at the cemetery
+and passed through various alleys, when, as she approached her
+destination, she suddenly halted.
+
+A woman was stretched upon the grave, who, on hearing the ejaculation of
+Mrs. Joe, partly raised her head, disclosing an earth-bedaubed face, and
+emitting sounds not human, but rather the moans of a tortured animal.
+
+Mrs. Joe ran and seized her shoulder, and at the touch Natalie half
+arose. Her gleaming eyes, her face distorted and soiled with
+earth--these presented an appalling spectacle.
+
+The lady of Stormpoint could hardly have told how the task was
+accomplished, but she succeeded in inducing the frantic woman to enter
+the carriage, and, thus separated from the grave, she became quieter,
+though never ceasing to mutter phrases which caused the listener to
+shudder. Mrs. Joe was a woman of varied experience. She had heard the
+oaths of mining camps when pistols and knives were out and frenzied
+ruffians were athirst for blood; she would have thought no form of
+profanity strange to her ears; yet she had heard no blasphemy equal to
+that uttered by her companion, repeated as a weary child asleep may
+repeat some hard-learned sentence impressed upon a tired brain.
+
+Arrived home, and Natalie in her bed, and withal lying quiet, and the
+carriage dispatched at full speed for Dr. Stanley, there was time to
+consider the next step.
+
+"Send for Father Cameril," urged Paula.
+
+"What is Leonard's address?" asked the lady, ignoring the suggestion.
+
+"Dear," said Paula, caressingly, and taking Natalie's hand, "where is
+Leonard?"
+
+"In hell," was the answer. "I am overjoyed in hearing the howlings of
+hell. My joy is increased as I gaze upon Leonard in the midst of that
+sea of suffering."
+
+"Good Lord deliver us!" ejaculated Mrs. Joe. Paula fell upon her knees.
+"Father in heaven!" she commenced.
+
+Natalie looked at her with languid interest "The sight of hell-torments
+exalts the happiness of the saints," she said.
+
+At this delectable quotation from Jonathan Edwards Mrs. Joe wrung her
+hands; Paula uttered a half scream and burst into tears; in the same
+moment Dr. Stanley was ushered into the room.
+
+"A frightful shock!" was his verdict. "Absolute quiet! No tears; no
+exorcisms," with a warning finger upheld for Paula. "I'll send a nurse
+at once and return soon."
+
+By night he was again in the house, having received bulletins from the
+nurse in the meanwhile. The patient was asleep; had been so for nearly
+three hours. "Excellent!" he said to Mrs. Joe, finding that lady
+awaiting his report in the library. "It's a fine brain, Mrs. Claghorn.
+Let us hope it may prove a strong one. Can you explain further than you
+could this afternoon?"
+
+"The keeper of the cemetery knows nothing. Her maids are here. I sent
+James for them, and have kept them to be questioned by you."
+
+The maids only knew that Mrs. Leonard had visited the house, and had
+spent the day in the library; that one of them, noting that her mistress
+had neglected the luncheon that had been laid out for her, had ventured
+to look into the room. "She was crouched on the floor, reading; I could
+not well see her face. When I spoke she waved her hand, as though I was
+not to interrupt. That was about two o'clock. I went back to the
+kitchen, just putting the tea on the range so's to heat it. Then neither
+Martha nor I thought anything more about her, until about five Martha
+thought she heard the front door slam. We looked in the library; she
+was gone. She hadn't touched the lunch." Such, relieved of some
+circumlocution, was the report of the maid most glib of speech. They
+were dismissed by the doctor.
+
+"She has done," was his comment, "that which creed-adherents usually
+omit. She has read, and as a consequence is crazed."
+
+"Crazed as a consequence of reading!" exclaimed Mrs. Joe.
+
+"Mrs. Leonard has sustained a shock; there must be a cause. No external
+injury is discoverable. The cause is to be found in her moral, or, if
+you please, her spiritual constitution--I don't care what you call
+it--among other things in strong maternal yearnings--subjective causes
+these, and not sufficient to explain the seizure; there must have been
+an agent. The maid found her deeply absorbed; people that read crouched
+on the floor are so; therefore a book----"
+
+"I took this from her," exclaimed the lady, producing the Reverend
+Eliphalet's "Call to the Careless."
+
+"Aha!" exclaimed the doctor, pouncing upon the volume and glancing at
+the title-page, "here we have it; here's enough to convert a lying-in
+hospital into Bedlam."
+
+Mrs. Joe gazed upon the fat little volume in the hand of the speaker,
+with the same expression with which a novice might contemplate an
+overgrown spider impaled upon the card of a collector.
+
+"This unctuous treatise," proceeded the doctor, who, finding his hobby
+saddled, was impatient to mount, "was written by a shining light of that
+family to which you and I have been graciously permitted to ally
+ourselves. In this volume are recorded the ecstatic transports of one of
+the most blessed of the blessed Claghorns. Our patient may have derived
+her tendency to exaltation from this very rhapsodist. Here, with the
+Reverend Eliphalet, we may revel in angelic joys; with him, we may,
+god-like, gloat over sinners damned, and, enraptured, contemplate
+Flames, Torment and Despair; here our ears may be charmed with the Roars
+of Age, the Howls of Youth, the Screams of Childhood and the Wails of
+Infancy; all in linked sweetness long drawn out; all in capital
+letters, and all extorted by the Flames that Lick the Suffering
+Damned!"
+
+"Doctor!" exclaimed the lady, scandalized at that which she supposed was
+a burst of profanity.
+
+"Shocked? Well, shocking it is--in me, who refuse to believe it, but
+edifying in Eliphalet. Ah! madam, the evil that men do lives after them.
+Was truth ever better exemplified? Listen to this: The writer pictures
+himself in heaven and looking down into hell. 'What joy to behold Truth
+vindicated from all the horrid aspersions of hellish monsters!' (that's
+me) 'I am overjoyed at hearing the everlasting Howlings of the Haters of
+the Almighty! Oh! Sweet, sweet. My heart is satisfied!'"
+
+The lady attempted to interrupt, but the doctor continued to read: "The
+saints in glory will see and better understand (than we do) how terrible
+the sufferings of the damned are! When they have this sight it will
+excite them to joyful praises,' that's a choice bit from Jonathan
+Edwards. What do you think of the diversions of 'the saints in glory?'"
+
+"It's blasphemy!"
+
+"Blasphemy! Tell it not in Hampton! But listen to Jonathan again. Here
+is his picture of a sinner just condemned. His parents are witnesses of
+his terror and agony, and thus they righteously gloat: 'When they shall
+see what manifestations of amazement will be in you at the hearing of
+this dreadful sentence; when they shall behold you with a frightened and
+amazed countenance, trembling and astonished, and shall hear you groan
+and gnash your teeth, these things will not move them at all to pity
+you, but you will see them with a holy joy in their countenances and
+with songs in their mouths. When they shall see you turned away and
+beginning to enter into the great furnace, and shall see how you shrink
+at it, and hear how you shriek and cry out, yet they will not be at all
+grieved for you; but at the same time you will hear from them renewed
+praises and hallelujahs for this true and righteous judgment of God in
+so dealing with you!'"
+
+"If," interjected the listener, "that is written there, the devil wrote
+it."
+
+"The devil may have had a hand in the matter, but it was written by no
+less a person than Jonathan Edwards, regarded, and justly, by the
+Reverend Eliphalet and others, as a great man. He is also quoted here as
+saying to his hearers, 'If you perish hereafter, it will be an occasion
+of joy to all the godly'; one is hardly surprised that he didn't get on
+with his congregation. Imagine Father Cameril making that announcement
+with you and Miss Paula in the front pew."
+
+"Doctor, if you are not inventing----"
+
+"I could not. My imagination is not warmed by the flames of hell or by
+celestial visions. This book is filled with similar elegant extracts."
+
+"I have heard enough, Doctor. Really----"
+
+"Permit me one or two more. We have hardly heard the author himself as
+yet."
+
+"But to what end?"
+
+"You were incredulous when I asserted that a day's reading in Leonard's
+library would account for the present condition of his wife. It's only
+fair to allow me to justify my assertion."
+
+"You have read enough to drive _me_ crazy, if for one moment I believed
+it."
+
+"Hardly. _You_ are not a recently bereaved mother; _you_ are not just
+emerging from a condition consequent upon disturbance of the physical
+economy which has reacted upon the mental; _you_ are not inclined to
+mysticism, to see visions, to find pictures in goblets of water or in
+grate fires; in short, while you have your own idiosyncrasies, they are
+not of a character to render you liable to this sort of transport. But
+there are organizations which, though seduced by mystic lore, can hardly
+contemplate such matters without injury. The compiler of this book, the
+men he quotes, the ecstatics in general--revivalists, hermits, nuns and
+monks in all ages--do you believe that as a class they were well
+balanced? Peering into heaven is a dangerous business."
+
+"The men you have quoted seem to have peered into hell."
+
+"That is the Puritan mode of ecstatic enjoyment. Our Catholic--I beg
+your pardon, our Roman Catholic--enthusiasts, being more artistic, and
+lovers of the beautiful, prefer contemplation of heaven. Unlike the
+smug Puritan, they do not spare their bodies. They fast and flog, wear
+hair shirts, roll in ashes and wash seldom, but their eyes are turned
+upward; they urge the spirit to rejoice. Your fat and well-fed Calvinist
+prefers a gloom irradiated by the flames of hell, in which he can behold
+the writhing victims of God's vanity----"
+
+"Doctor, you are as bitter as all your brethren; you unbeliever----"
+
+"I don't know that I'm more of an unbeliever than you are. I'm sure if
+the Reverend Eliphalet has not by this time modified his opinions, he
+has no expectation of meeting you in heaven. Hear him as he warns
+humanity against the devices of Satan: 'Of which,' he says, 'the traces
+are visible even in the church. In these days there hath arisen a
+delusive hope as to infants. Some hold, and a few dare to assert, though
+with bated breath, that all infants die in the grace of God. Who saith
+this? Not God, who, by His Eternal Decree, hath declared that none but
+His Elect are saved. Not our Confession of Faith, formulated at
+Westminster in earnest prayer and reverence for the Word. Not the
+framers of that Confession, of whom I may mention Twisse, as having
+specially wrote against this new-born folly, extorted by the cunning of
+the Enemy of Souls by means of the bleatings of foolish mothers--search
+the Scripture, reader! Nowhere shalt thou find any saved but His
+Elect.'"
+
+"Abominable!" ejaculated the lady.
+
+"Poetical. 'Bleatings of foolish mothers' is quite so. And now our good
+man actually drops into the poetry of the Reverend Michael Wigglesworth,
+whose 'Day of Doom' he quotes at length. I will not inflict the whole
+fifteen stanzas upon you; but listen to a morsel or two. This is the
+Argument: The Still-born appear at the Seat of Mercy, and put in a plea
+for grace that might have weight in Senegambia, but which has none in
+the heaven of Eliphalet and of Hampton:
+
+    'Then to the bar they all drew near who died in Infancy,
+    And never had, or good or bad, effected personally,
+    But from the womb unto the tomb were straightway carried
+    (Or at the least, ere they transgressed), who thus began to plead.'
+
+"Their plea is that since Adam, the actual delinquent, has been 'set
+free, and saved from his trespass,' they are on better grounds entitled
+to consideration. To the finite intelligence there would seem to be some
+force in the infantile argument. What says Omnipotence?
+
+    'I may deny you once to try, or grace to you to tender,
+    Though he finds Grace before my face who was the chief offender.
+    You sinners are, and such a share as sinners may expect,
+    Such you shall have, for I do save none but mine own elect;
+    Yet to compare your sin with their who sinned a longer time,
+    I do confess yours is much less, though every sin's a crime;
+    A crime it is, therefore in bliss you may not hope to dwell,
+    But unto you I shall allow THE EASIEST ROOM IN HELL.'"
+
+The doctor closed the book. "I submit that I have proved my contention,"
+he said. "Do you doubt now that Mrs. Leonard was affected by her
+browsings among Leonard's books? The men who wrote the matter of which
+this volume is made up were largely the founders of Hampton, men whose
+names she has heard venerated as almost inspired of God."
+
+"Even so, how could she believe such absurdities?"
+
+"I do not assert that she believed. Belief in the impossible is
+impossible. But have you never been deeply impressed by fiction; never
+been scared by a ghost story? Have you shed tears over the sorrows of
+Colonel Newcome? The few quotations you have heard cause you to shrink,
+though you are well aware they are but foolish words. But if you could
+_see_ the scenes herein depicted, I do not think you could bear the
+prospect. I am sure _I_ should howl as lustily as any hellish monster
+here referred to. Well, Mrs. Leonard being so constituted, has actually
+_seen_ these horrors, and, in the central figure, has contemplated the
+writhings of her child."
+
+"Oh, Doctor!" she spoke in a subdued tone, her eyes expressing more than
+her words.
+
+"Even you, here in this well-lighted and cheerful room, with me, a very
+material and matter-of-fact person, beside you, even you can feel a
+faint reflection of the terrors in which this woman spent the day.
+Alone, without food, a deserted room, a gloomy house, but lately
+cheerful with the prattle of a childish voice, forever silent, but of
+which the echoes still linger in the mother's ears--here's enough and
+more than enough to disturb an exalted temperament, a morbid
+imagination. Add this"--the doctor shook the book in his hand--"and what
+need of belief, if by belief you mean the result of a reasoning process?
+The ideas suggested _here took possession of her_! Belief! Pshaw! nobody
+believes in this stuff; but Hampton says it believes."
+
+"But that's monstrous!"
+
+"Nothing more common than loud assertions of belief where is no belief.
+That's politics, partisanship."
+
+"But this is religion----"
+
+"So-called."
+
+"But----"
+
+"The Westminster Confession is a written document. The men who composed
+it knew what they wished to say, and said it so clearly that nobody can
+misapprehend their meaning. Your own creed of compromises--pardon me,
+compromise is always the resort of politicians who understand their
+business--was wiser, or luckier; its Articles are all loopholes in
+regard to this doctrine of Election----"
+
+"Doctor, your ignorance of my church is so palpable that I decline to
+take your word concerning Hampton and the Confession of Faith. I've
+never read it----"
+
+"Even its adherents are not so rash. It becomes a serious matter as to
+one's self-respect to maintain a monstrous absurdity, after one knows
+it. Nevertheless, the Westminster Confession teaches as truth all that
+the Reverend Eliphalet says, or that Michael Wigglesworth grotesquely
+sings. Moreover, it is annually published under the title of 'The
+Constitution and Standards of the Presbyterian Church in the United
+States of America'--a solemn declaration that God, before the creation
+of man, damned the great majority to everlasting agony so excruciating
+as to be beyond conception, and all for His own glory and pleasure."
+
+"Yet I know, and you ought to know, that Christianity offers salvation
+to every soul through the medium of its Founder."
+
+"Denied _in toto_ by Westminster. According to the Confession, not even
+Jesus Christ could diminish the number of the damned, fixed before the
+creation of a single soul. If Mrs. Leonard's baby was born to be damned,
+damned he is."
+
+"Now I know you are asserting what is not so. I have heard infant
+damnation denied by Hampton professors."
+
+"And may again. I do not claim that a single human being believes the
+Westminster Confession; but I do maintain that he who acknowledges that
+Confession as his standard, and retains membership in that church, which
+annually promulgates the same as truth, either believes an outrageous
+absurdity, or says he believes it. If he is not willing to do this, he
+has no right in the organization; why, only the other day Dr. Willis was
+requested to get out because he declined to say he believed that which
+he does not believe."
+
+"Doctor, I am sorry to say it, but your statements are not credible----"
+
+"Don't apologize. Of course they are not; but they are true. I certainly
+don't blame you for doubting my word. But you shall ask Hodge; I'll lend
+you his commentary. Hodge hopes as to infants, but is honest enough to
+admit that in the Confession there is no ground for hope. He damns all
+heathen incontinently, which includes all the babies I ever knew, though
+he may have known babies that were not heathen. And, after all, why this
+solicitude for babies? Why is it less monstrous to condemn to eternal
+torture a being six feet long than one of three? Why, on the last
+occasion I was in a church I heard these words: 'The sentiment which
+sorrows over what God reveals as His will is simply maudlin. When the
+Christian finds out who are in the regions of despair he will neither be
+affected by their number nor by the duration of their punishment.'
+That's not much better than 'bleating mothers.' And in the
+meanwhile"--he concluded a tirade so rapidly uttered that his auditor
+had had no opportunity to interrupt--"they are quarreling about Socrates
+and tobacco, crusading against my bottle of claret, and sending
+missionaries to Japan." Who "they" were he had no opportunity to
+designate, for at this moment a messenger from the nurse announced that
+the patient was awake.
+
+When the doctor and the lady entered the room, Natalie looked at them,
+but betrayed no surprise. Mrs. Joe was startled by the expression of her
+face, which was peaceful, even happy. "Heaven is beautiful," she said,
+without other preface. "Birds and flowers and little children. Oh! the
+happy little children and Lenny among them; all so happy, so rosy! Ah, I
+am glad!" And even as she sighed her gladness she sank into slumber. The
+doctor watched her anxiously for many minutes; then he signed to Mrs.
+Joe to follow, and they softly left the room.
+
+"Is it death?" asked the lady, who had been frightened by his anxious
+face.
+
+"Such visions often mean death; there's nothing certain yet, but every
+hope. Go to bed, Mrs. Claghorn; I shall remain here."
+
+But though the lady declined to go to bed, the discussion was not
+resumed.
+
+About four in the morning he went alone to the room, and soon returned
+with a smiling face. "She is sleeping naturally," he said. "A few hours
+since I feared for her reason; now I have great hope. I shall return at
+eight o'clock. Let nobody go near her. Burn that thing; she must never
+see it again." He pointed to the "Call to the Careless," and left the
+house.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX.
+
+STARTLING EFFECT OF "DR. BURLEY'S TRUE MEANING."
+
+
+Leonard remained in New York, ignorant of the events which had
+transpired at Stormpoint, concerning which, however, he was soon
+informed by a letter written by Mrs. Joe, a letter which conveyed the
+intelligence that his wife had fainted in the cemetery "as a consequence
+of over-exertion," that Dr. Stanley wished the intended visit to Newport
+to be made as soon as possible, that there was no need of his presence
+in Easthampton, and that if he were to come there he would probably find
+his wife already departed. All of which, though dictated by the
+physician, had been written with misgiving, as conveying an insufficient
+statement of the facts. But the doctor had been peremptory. "Keep them
+apart," he had said. "The only subject on which Leonard can expatiate
+just now is damnation, and of that the wife has had more than enough."
+
+Leonard evinced no desire to follow the Newport party. Misled by the
+communication from the lady of Stormpoint, and yet more influenced by
+reluctance to enter the household of Mrs. Leon, of which household he
+assumed Berthe Lenoir to be still an inmate, he was willing to enjoy a
+holiday which he thought he had fairly earned. Mrs. Joe, though
+surprised by his acquiescence, was relieved. She was still more
+surprised when her keen vision detected that Natalie was equally
+relieved. "It seemed," she observed to the doctor, "to lighten her
+heart."
+
+"Instinct," he replied, and made no further comment; but though
+ordinarily very discreet as to professional matters, he mentioned the
+circumstance to his wife, at the same time advancing a theory which
+startled that lady.
+
+Freed from anxiety concerning Natalie, whose letters, though very short,
+reported continuing improvement in the matter of health, Leonard
+resolved, for the present at least, to forget the ingratitude of
+Hampton, and to enjoy to the fullest his bachelor outing. He recalled
+his strolls on Parisian Boulevards, and in fancy lived in past delights,
+promenading Broadway with the old Parisian strut, though modified, and
+not oblivious of the fact that here, as in Paris, were handsome eyes,
+not unwilling to return the glance of one who had been likened to a
+Greek god.
+
+Sometimes, indeed often, he lamented that his lot had not been cast in
+the great world. His instincts truthfully told him that, as a man of
+action, he would have presented no mean figure; there were even moments
+when he wished, though he knew the futility of such a wish, that he
+might never see Hampton or hear of theology again. This he knew well
+enough was but the natural reaction from the strain of his recent
+labors, but he toyed with the thought, half playfully, half regretfully,
+as indicating one of the things that might have been. If there were any
+conscience-pricks they were too feeble to be felt; he had ceased to be a
+boy (so he said to himself); the boy, for instance, he had been when, on
+the Heidelberg terrace, he had yearned over the erring soul of his
+cousin. The religious sentiment which once had glowed so ardently in his
+bosom was burned out, consumed in the heat of partisan theology; but
+though he knew this, he did not know the meaning of the fact. To him it
+meant that his salvation was assured, and with that conviction the great
+concern of life had passed into the peace which passeth understanding.
+
+Just now, however, he was not giving much attention to his personal
+religious attitude, as he moved among the city's throngs well-clad, rosy
+and with the form and grace of an athlete and the eager eyes of
+innocence and unconscious desire. In the delight of the holiday, a
+delight which sometimes rose to a surprising fervor, he thought of
+certain Parisian peccadillos, and more than once half resolved to renew
+his acquaintance with the ballet and _belles jambes_, like unto those of
+Mademoiselle Coralie, which gamboled ravishingly in the haze of memory;
+but he rejected the imprudent suggestion; he might be recognized, and
+Brigston would rejoice in unholy glee, if its most potent adversary--he
+wondered if this fact were known to the passers-by--were discovered in a
+temple of dubious recreation. Such recollections brought Paris very
+vividly before his eyes, and for some reason also the memory of Berthe
+and of that rapturous kiss; and perhaps at such times the handsome face
+assumed the look of which Mrs. Joe had disapproved.
+
+The remembrance of Berthe recalled Natalie, who, as he believed, was in
+the house with her former maid, and Natalie's beauty, and he was filled
+with tenderness, and his soul yearned with a great longing, and had it
+not been that Berthe was there he would have fled to Newport. He
+recognized now a fact of which he had, in a vague way, been long
+conscious, the fact that ever since the birth of the boy he and his wife
+had grown somewhat apart. She had been engrossed with the child, and he
+with his theological war. He regretted it, and resolved that it must not
+be so in the future. Loving one another as they did, it would be easy to
+grow together again. He would tell her how grievously he had been
+treated by Hampton, in its envy; and on the beautiful bosom that he
+loved and that was his own, would pour out his griefs and find sweetest
+solace. If she would only curtail her visit!
+
+One day there came a letter from his wife which he opened in the eager
+hope that it would announce the termination of her stay in Newport. He
+was disappointed in this, and was further rendered uneasy by the tone of
+constraint in which it was written, or which he imagined; for if there
+were constraint, it was hard to point out just where it lay; yet he
+felt, if he could not see, that the pen of the writer had been heavy in
+her hand. But he was more than uneasy; he felt resentment rising within
+him as he read the postscript, which was as follows: "Do you believe
+that there is an eternal hell and that many are condemned? Will you
+answer this as briefly as possible?"
+
+He studied the written words with growing annoyance. The curtness of the
+question seemed to indicate that to the questioner the matter was of
+minor import--trivial, in fact; if she really thought thus, then all his
+recent labors had been labor in vain. Nothing had so angered him as
+suggestions of this character, frequently made by a godless secular
+press. One journal had, with pretended gravity, argued that since all
+heathen and their progeny must be damned, extermination was more
+merciful than the hopeless attempt at conversion, and at least as
+practicable; another had flippantly suggested that Professor Claghorn be
+required to demonstrate the utility of theological seminaries, since no
+product of those institutions could, by any possibility, be instrumental
+in saving a single soul--and so on. All of which he had borne with a
+fair show of equanimity, but he had smarted; and now Natalie's question
+seemed, at first sight, an echo of the unworthy journalistic jibes.
+There might be various opinions concerning hell; it was conceivable that
+the great majority preferred an attitude of incredulity as to its
+inevitable destination; but, at least, it was a serious subject.
+
+But later readings of the letter seemed to indicate that it had been
+written with a heavy heart. There was affection in it, but a tone of
+gloom as well, which, though Natalie admitted that her health was
+completely restored, was too apparent to permit the supposition of a
+trifling postcript. The inference, then, must be that she had arrived at
+a not uncommon stage of religious agitation, often preliminary to
+conversion, a stage which he knew to be frequently of intense suffering
+to the neophyte, though satisfactory to pious observers, who were
+inclined to see in the lowest depths of misery the sure precursor of the
+highest joy. He had, himself, at an unusually early age, passed through
+a similar experience, and though that period of anguish was so far
+behind him that he could not recall its terrors, he knew that they had
+been very dreadful, and that his parents, to whom he had been as the
+apple of their eye, had been correspondingly complacent. There was, in
+these days, less of the agonized form of religious experience, but he
+could easily understand that it might happen to Natalie, who, in
+religion, was still but a babe.
+
+The only way to deal with the matter was the way in which it had been
+treated in his own case. There must be no slurring of the truth. He
+would disdain that course in private as much as he had disdained it in
+public. Hampton might shrink from disclosure of eternal verity; he would
+not.
+
+Wherefore, he sent to Natalie his pamphlet, entitled, "Dr. Burley's True
+Meaning," not sorry that she should see how clearly and uncompromisingly
+he could state matters which others had been willing to obscure. The
+true meaning of the Confession, and, therefore, of the Bible, and,
+therefore, of the learned biblical scholar whose text Leonard
+illuminated, was that the majority of mankind was on the way to a hell,
+eternal, and of torture inconceivable.
+
+The pamphlet was relentless, as was proper; but in his accompanying
+letter to his wife Leonard was very tender. He showed her that there was
+but one course to pursue in the face of indisputable truth, and that was
+resignation to the will of heaven. Weak humanity might grieve over God's
+will; such sorrow was certainly pardonable by man, but was nevertheless
+rebellion; and, before complete reconciliation to God could be assumed,
+must be dismissed from the heart. Leaving religion, he proceeded to tell
+his wife that his longing for her was growing absolutely insupportable,
+and he was much more fervid in his petition that she hasten her return
+home than he had been in his doctrinal expositions. He dispatched his
+letter, and returned to his former avocations, but with little spirit;
+he longed for Natalie, and had no room for other than the thoughts that
+accompanied his longing. In a few days he was able to start for home,
+Natalie having, in a very short letter, in which she made no comment on
+the one he had last written, announced her arrival in Hampton by a train
+due there a few minutes later than the one from New York by which he
+traveled, and when he finally alighted at the station, he was tremulous
+with anticipation, and his disappointment was proportionate when the
+Newport train arrived with none of the expected travelers.
+
+There was nothing to do but to bear a revulsion of feeling, which was
+actually painful. He walked across the Square to his home, and found the
+maids with everything prepared for his arrival, and with a letter from
+Natalie which informed him that she would be in Hampton on the
+following morning.
+
+He went early to bed, discontented and fretful. He slept badly, and in
+the night got up and wandered restlessly about, and in his wanderings
+made a discovery which might have remained unnoticed had the fancies
+which vexed his repose been of a different character.
+
+After the birth of her child, Natalie had occupied a room separate from
+her husband's, in order that the latter, whose literary labors were
+exacting, should not be disturbed. In his prowling Leonard discovered
+evidences that this arrangement was to be continued, and as he stood in
+the gaslight considering the tokens whereby he inferred that one room
+was reserved for masculine, the other for feminine occupancy, he
+mentally pronounced the arrangement unsatisfactory, and experienced a
+feeling of vexation amounting to resentment.
+
+But resentment gave way when, next morning, having seen Mrs. Joe and
+Paula drive away to Stormpoint, and having followed Natalie to the room
+which he had inspected the night before with dissatisfaction, he once
+more held her in his arms. The light that gleamed from her eyes, the
+roseate hue upon her feverish cheeks, the rich red lips upon which he
+pressed his own hungrily--the beautiful reality, fairer than the fairest
+vision of his hours of longing, banished every thought but one.
+
+He held her long in a close embrace. He was very happy, and when she had
+withdrawn from his arms he sat upon the edge of the bed telling her of
+his disappointment of the day before, and of his nocturnal prowlings,
+and laughingly advancing his objections to the sleeping arrangements she
+had ordered. Meanwhile, she said but little, being engaged in searching
+for something in her trunk. At length she found whatever she had been
+seeking. "Leonard," she said, "go down to the library. I must speak to
+you, but not here."
+
+The manner and the tone puzzled him--then he remembered. He sighed
+involuntarily. It was an inopportune moment to discuss conversion--but
+since she was in its throes----He went downstairs; his face betrayed
+vexation.
+
+Soon she entered the room where he awaited her, seated in a big chair.
+She knelt before him, taking his hand in hers. "Leonard," she said, "I
+am sorry you don't like the arrangement of the bedrooms."
+
+Her solemnity had led him to expect something of greater importance than
+this, which was, however, decidedly a more welcome topic. "You know,
+dearest," he said, with a quizzical look, "as husband and wife----"
+
+"Leonard! Leonard! We dare not be husband and wife."
+
+He stared at her in amazement. "What do you mean?" he said.
+
+"I mean this," she answered, producing "Dr. Burley's True Meaning." "Oh,
+Leonard! How could the same man write that book and be a father?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+HE CLASPED HER LITHE BODY WITH A CLUTCH OF FURY.
+
+
+Mrs. Joe had not obeyed Dr. Stanley's injunction, to burn the "Call to
+the Careless," but had studied that delectable composition sufficiently
+to compel her to exonerate the doctor from her suspicion, that he had
+invented much of the matter, which he had, in fact, read from the text
+before him.
+
+Her researches had not been without an object. It is, perhaps,
+unnecessary to point out that this lady's conscience was sufficiently
+elastic for ordinary purposes, even for ordinary political purposes, and
+it might have with stood the assaults made upon it by her investigation,
+had she been of the usual sex of politicians. She could go far in the
+interests of her son, but long ago she had borne another child, whose
+smile as it faded in death had ever been, at odd moments, before her,
+and constantly before her during her wanderings in fields theological,
+and she had but recently seen a woman crazed by contemplation of her
+baby in hell. When she had learned, by means of her studies, that a
+great ecclesiastical body still dooms the vast majority of those born of
+woman to everlasting woe, it came upon her like a blow in the face that,
+in order to see her son in the legislature, she had aided in
+promulgating the diabolical creed which, in the face of nineteen
+centuries of Christianity, is still waved aloft as the Standard of a
+Christian Church.
+
+Upon the first shock of this knowledge she followed the inevitable
+course of the conscience-stricken, and proceeded to argue with the
+inward monitor. "Nobody believes that now," she insisted; "the actual
+belief has been modified to accord with common sense. No Christian can
+admit that God is a demon, and no Christian can teach impossible
+falsehood." In answer to which, Conscience pointed to the title-page,
+which proclaimed the Confession to be the "Standard of the Presbyterian
+Church in the United States of America.'" She resolved to seek
+enlightenment at the acknowledged head of human wisdom in Hampton, and
+called for the purpose on the great Dr. Burley himself. Him she
+encountered as he was emerging from his front door. "Does Hampton
+actually uphold the Westminster Confession?" she asked.
+
+"Certainly, my dear madam, so does Brigston."
+
+"I'm not interested in Brigston. I am in Hampton."
+
+"And we are all glad that it is so. But, I see--I've always been afraid
+of it; you are going to try and get us all over to St. Perpetua, ha!
+ha!"
+
+"And does Hampton really believe----?"
+
+"Only what is true. I must be off to my lecture now; we must have it out
+some other time. How's the Bishop? Fine fellow; wish we had him.
+Good-bye; Mrs. Burley will be _delighted to_ see you," and the doctor
+waved the lady into the house and made his escape.
+
+Having no desire to call upon Mrs. Burley, the lady of Stormpoint
+remained in the vestibule only long enough for the gentleman to get
+away; she then descended the steps and was about to enter her carriage,
+when she was accosted by Dr. Stanley, who, after the usual salutations,
+asked her if she had seen Leonard recently.
+
+"I am about to call on him now--on unpleasant business."
+
+"That's a pity. You'll wish you had stayed at home. I have just left
+him; he's as cross as three sticks, which I suppose are crosser than the
+proverbial two."
+
+"I suppose because the newspapers are still nagging him."
+
+"Perhaps; yet if you could manage a confidential talk with Mrs. Leonard,
+it might be a good thing."
+
+"Ah! You've noticed that there's domestic trouble? I have suspected it.
+Why was he willing to stay away from Newport? Why was his wife reluctant
+to come home?"
+
+"Perhaps you can find out. Doctors can't ask indiscreet questions more
+than other people."
+
+"And you think I can, or will?" In answer to which the physician merely
+shrugged his shoulders.
+
+The lady drove away, her distaste for the task before her not diminished
+by the encounter. She was quite sure that the physician would not have
+made the allusions, which had fallen from him, unless he believed that
+the domestic status in the Morley mansion was of grave significance.
+Which, in fact, it was; a dark shadow loomed, ever larger, in the old
+house.
+
+Leonard was very unhappy. Natalie's ignorance, in respect to his
+longings, her utter absence of sympathy; these formed the side of the
+shadow visible to him. He was irritable, at times harsh; but more deadly
+in its possible results was a sullen resentment, so deep that its
+ferocity and strength were unsuspected by himself. He was gazing moodily
+out of the library window when Mrs. Joe's equipage stopped at the door,
+and in another moment the lady was ushered in.
+
+"What is it?" he asked shortly. His manner was divested of its usual
+graces. He looked moodily at the floor.
+
+"Only a matter of business. Leonard, have you informed the Hampton
+people of the gift of which I spoke to you?"
+
+"It has been mentioned."
+
+"Leonard, I ought not to give it."
+
+"You don't mean you have met with serious losses?" he exclaimed,
+impressed by her manner.
+
+"No, no! But my views have changed; that is, I have made discoveries.
+Will it annoy you, personally, if the gift is not made?"
+
+"I shall regret it; but nobody will blame me, if that's what you mean."
+
+She was relieved. Still, it was painful to withhold a promised gift,
+especially painful to deprive him just now of the credit of being her
+almoner. "I wish you to take this," she said, handing him a cheque. "Let
+it go to the poor of the town, the hospital, the blind asylum----"
+
+He took the slip of paper she held out to him. He was startled by the
+amount. "Mrs. Joe----" he commenced.
+
+"We can arrange as to details," she interrupted. "Oblige me by taking it
+now."
+
+He saw that she was somewhat agitated, and knew that she feared that the
+withdrawal of the gift to the Seminary might have wounded him. This was
+her way of curing such wounds. It would be ungracious to refuse the
+cheque, yet even as he looked at it, a strange foreboding was upon him.
+
+He sat down saying he would prefer to give her a receipt as trustee. "As
+you say, we must arrange as to details. Meanwhile, I suggest a portion
+of the sum for the Missionary Fund----"
+
+"Not one penny of it," she answered with energy.
+
+"Do you object to the conversion of the heathen?" he asked surprised.
+
+"I do," was her emphatic answer. "Leave them alone. I suppose there are
+among them some that look with hope beyond the grave. I will not be an
+instrument to destroy that hope."
+
+He jumped at once to the conclusion that she had been reading some of
+the frothy and ill-considered articles of the secular press in regard to
+the Hampton-Brigston controversy, and again the suspicion arose in his
+mind that Natalie was influenced by the wretched diatribes of the
+newspapers.
+
+"I should fail in my duty as a Christian, Mrs. Joe," he said coldly, "if
+I made no effort to disabuse your mind of prejudice. Your capacity to
+aid a noble cause is so great----"
+
+"God knows," she interrupted earnestly, "I desire to use that capacity
+for good. I have done grievous harm hitherto."
+
+"I do not understand."
+
+"Leonard, look at this. It is a fair statement. I know it because I have
+tested every line of it in the Seminary Library. Can I give money to
+bring tidings of their eternal damnation to the heathen? They are
+happier without such knowledge."
+
+He took from her hand a cutting from a newspaper. It was an attack on
+his theology: "As a mitigation of the misery which flows from the
+Westminster Confession," wrote the journalist, "probation after death
+has been suggested by weaklings. We know how that suggestion has been
+received. In June, 1893, the General Assembly of the Church convicted
+Dr. Briggs, its author, of heresy, and stigmatized sanctification after
+death as 'in direct conflict with the plain teachings of the Divine
+Word, and the utterances of the Standards of our Church'; a deliverance
+which consigns to hell myriads of Jews, Mohammedans and honest doubters
+of Christendom--all to be added to the number of heathen in hell.
+Concerning these last, various computations have been made by
+theologians of a mathematical turn; the American Board estimates that
+five hundred millions go to hell every thirty years, or as Dr. Skinner
+has it, thirty-seven thousand millions since the Christian era. Dr.
+Hodge states that none escape. The last-named learned commentator on the
+Confession of Faith is even hopeless as to Christian infants, concerning
+whom he says, 'It is certainly revealed that none, either adult or
+infant, are saved, except by special election,' and that it is not
+'positively revealed that all infants are elect.'"
+
+The article proceeded to argue that, if all this were true (which the
+writer denied), to impart the knowledge to the heathen would be cruel,
+and that if it were not true, so much the less should lives and money be
+spent in the dissemination of false views of God's mercy and justice.
+
+"Beyond the fact that the writer is thoroughly illogical, slipshod and
+evidently malicious, there is no fault to be found with his statements,"
+observed Leonard, as he returned the cutting to the lady.
+
+"Leonard, my conscience will not permit me to disseminate a faith which
+knows no mercy."
+
+He respected Mrs. Joe; he could even sympathize with her views, though,
+regarding her as a child in doctrine, he did not think it worth while to
+attempt to explain to her the enlightening and consolatory effect of the
+"high mysteries," which are to be handled "with especial care." "Let the
+matter rest awhile," he said. "I will arrange as to the hospital and for
+a donation to the blind asylum. We can agree as to the distribution of
+the rest of the fund later. You will not always be so hard on Hampton.
+Theology is not learned in a day, Mrs. Joe, and, you will excuse me for
+saying it, you have not given as much thought to the matter as some
+others."
+
+"I am not foolish enough to pretend to a knowledge of theology. That
+would be as absurd as the exhibition presented by men who pass years in
+striving to reconcile eternal damnation and common justice." Having
+fired this shot, the lady took her departure.
+
+The door had scarce closed upon her when Leonard called Natalie. An
+impression, revived by his visitor and her newspaper cutting, that his
+wife's attitude had its inspiration in the empty criticisms of the
+press, had aroused his anger. He resolved that the present mode of
+living should terminate. He had rights, God-given, as well as by the
+laws of men; he would enforce them if he must.
+
+In their intercourse recently, Leonard had refrained from harshness, but
+he had been unable to conceal a resentment, hourly growing in strength;
+his manner had been hard and sullen. Without exhibiting actual
+discourtesy he had shown plainly enough that he preferred to be alone,
+and, except when it was inevitable, husband and wife had hardly met or
+spoken together for days.
+
+Hence, when Natalie heard him call, a flush, born partly of
+apprehension, partly of hope, suffused her cheek. She came toward him,
+smiling and rosy, a vision of radiant loveliness. The pleading
+tenderness of her eyes was answered by the wolfish gleam of a gaze that
+arrested her steps. He seized her in his arms, clasping the lithe body
+in a clutch of fury, kissing her red lips and clinging to their
+sweetness with a ferocity that terrified her. In this shameful embrace
+they wrestled a moment until the man's violence enfeebled himself. She
+broke from him, standing before him an image of outraged modesty,
+panting, indignant and bewildered.
+
+"Leonard!"
+
+He sank into a chair and covered his face with his hands. His own
+self-respect was shocked. He was humiliated, and his shame increased his
+resentment.
+
+"What is it?" she asked, placing a trembling hand on his shoulder, and
+noting that he shuddered at the touch.
+
+"What is it?" he repeated. For a moment a fury to strike her possessed
+him. By an effort he calmed himself.
+
+"Natalie," he said, in a slow, measured tone, "do you regard me as your
+husband?"
+
+"You know I do, Leonard."
+
+He sighed despairingly. How was he to bring a knowledge of facts to
+this woman incapable of comprehending them, or what they signified for
+him?
+
+"Natalie," he said, and now he took her hand in his, noting its cool
+freshness again his own hot palm. "We cannot live thus; we are married.
+We must be husband and wife."
+
+"You dare not create victims of hell," she whispered.
+
+"Natalie, you would impiously abrogate God's holy ordinance. Marriage is
+enjoined by Scripture. Sin of the most heinous character is born of
+neglect of this ordinance of God."
+
+"Leonard, Leonard," she cried, "you can have no assurance that your
+children will be saved. Only the elect."
+
+"All, dying in infancy are elect," he answered impatiently. "That is the
+universal belief of to-day."
+
+She grew very white as she looked at him; her eyes were big with horror.
+"Do you mean," she asked hoarsely, "that we should murder our babies?"
+
+"Murder!" he exclaimed, amazed.
+
+"Since only infants are certainly saved----"
+
+He burst into a discordant laugh. "Natalie," he said, "as a reasoner you
+would do credit to Brigston."
+
+"I can see no other way," she said after a pause. "My reasoning may be
+defective, but you do not show me its defects. Surely you believe the
+Confession and the catechisms?"
+
+"Every line of either," he answered defiantly and in anger. Had he not
+labored night and day for a year past to demonstrate the truth of the
+"Standards"?
+
+"Then," she answered sadly, "you have no right to become a father.
+Fathers and mothers are instruments of the devil. According to your
+belief, no sin can compare with the sin of bringing forth a creature so
+offensive to God that it must suffer eternal punishment. You may believe
+that you and I are both to dwell together in hell. If that be our fate
+we must submit. But our children, Leonard! Shall we earn their hatred in
+life, and watch their torments in unquenchable fires?"
+
+"Do you compare yourself and me, and children born of us, to the
+depraved mass of humanity? Have you no assurance of God's gracious
+mercy?"
+
+"God's gracious mercy!" she repeated. "God's gracious mercy!"
+
+"Natalie," he said, making a great effort to speak calmly. "You who but
+a short time since had no religion, surely you will concede that I know
+something of that which has been the study of my life. I tell you that
+your reasoning is frantic nonsense; it would be blasphemous if it were
+not for your ignorance."
+
+"You believe the Confession true--every line. I have studied it; I have
+studied your book. Prior to that I had spent a whole day, in this very
+room, reading----"
+
+He laughed, but as before there was no mirth in the laugh. "A whole
+day," he said, "and this profound research enables you to contend with
+me in a science that I have studied all my life."
+
+"On that day," she answered, shuddering, "the fires of hell blazed
+before my eyes and I heard the wails of damned souls. In a day much may
+be learned. If what I then saw be true--I do not know--you say it is;
+you say hell is----"
+
+"And say it again," he interrupted. "If I had never known it before, I
+would know it now."
+
+"Then, Leonard, you must justify me. Since God cannot save the
+innocent----"
+
+"He punishes the guilty only."
+
+"Having himself decreed their guilt! In the face of that decree there is
+no human guilt. Even marriage, that most hideous of all crimes, does not
+merit endless suffering----"
+
+"You insist that all are damned; you rave. Nobody asserts that all are
+damned."
+
+"'He hath chosen some to eternal life and foreordained the rest to
+dishonor and wrath.' Yet if there were but a single soul to suffer; if
+but one solitary creature of all the millions of men were doomed to
+dwell in hell forever--the knowledge that your child, Leonard, might be
+that lonely one--surely such knowledge----"
+
+He ground his teeth. She drew texts from the source he had declared to
+be the living truth. He had no answer; there was no answer.
+
+"Leave me," he whispered, in a tone that evidenced his fury better than
+a roar of rage. Again he hid his face in his hands. She often turned to
+look at him as she slowly withdrew, but he did not raise his head.
+
+He wrestled fiercely with his emotions and with the problem that fate
+had raised. At times rage consumed his soul, and his thoughts rioted in
+brutal instigation, which even then he feared, and of which he was
+ashamed. At moments he hated, at moments he loved, but hating or loving,
+the seductive charms of the woman swayed before his eyes, mocking him as
+the mirage mocks the fainting pilgrim. Hours passed and he remained in
+the same attitude, striving to estimate the situation correctly, so that
+he could evolve a remedy. He could not deny her reasoning; he would not
+give up his faith. His mind, rigid from the training to which it had
+been subjected, was incapable of readily admitting new theories; and his
+best nourished and most vigorous attribute was involved. Whether his
+integrity could be bent or not, it was certain that his vanity would not
+submit. No! He would not deny his faith. He would enforce his rights.
+
+But not without further effort at persuasion. He made a heroic and
+worthy resolve. He would be patient still, meanwhile using every gentle
+measure. He would enlist Mrs. Joe in his cause. She was a matron, shrewd
+and too well balanced to allow religious notions to carry her to
+fanatical extremes; and she did not hold his own views, apparently not
+even as to eternal punishment. Perhaps she would convince Natalie that
+there was no hell. It would be a lie, but better that his wife believe a
+lie than that hell reign in his house and in his bosom.
+
+At the dinner hour the maid handed her mistress a note. It ran thus:
+
+     "Dear Natalie--I have decided to leave home for a little time.
+     I think we are better apart. If you will open your heart to
+     Mrs. Joe she will explain that which you and I cannot discuss.
+     I learn that you are in your own room, and think it better not
+     to disturb you. Good-bye, for a little time. It may be that I
+     shall not write.
+
+     "LEONARD."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+A PÆAN OF VICTORY HYMNED IN HELL.
+
+
+On the day following that upon which Leonard and Natalie had last met in
+Leonard's study, there were two women in a room of a shabby New York
+house, evidently once a worthy residence, but now sadly fallen from that
+estate.
+
+One of the two, half dressed, with a good deal of tarnished lace
+decorating such clothing as she had on, sat on the bed in an easy
+attitude, careless as to the display of a handsome person. Dark,
+heavy-browed, her first youth past, her haggard face was redeemed by
+deep, soft eyes, that now, however, from beneath their long lashes,
+looked out upon the face of the other woman with suspicious wariness.
+
+This one, overfed, coarse, vile to look upon, with the face of a painted
+gargoyle, red and mottled, garishly dressed in a loose gown, stood with
+arms akimbo, her little eyes bent wickedly upon the woman on the bed.
+
+"Ten days' board," croaked the fat one. "Ten days."
+
+"Ten weeks, for all I care," was the reply.
+
+The fat creature wheezed and snorted; she half lifted her great red hand
+as if to administer a blow.
+
+"Try it," said the other, "and I'll stick this into you," holding
+threateningly the blade of a pair of scissors.
+
+The fat one recoiled; there was enough recklessness in the eyes of the
+woman with the scissors to justify the movement. "Now, now, Frenchy,"
+she remonstrated, "you won't be a fool. Possy bate, eh?"
+
+"_Pas si bête_," laughed the other grimly. "Try it and see!"
+
+"You know," said the rubicund one, "this ain't white, Berthe. Whose
+fault is it if you've no money?"
+
+"Ah!" exclaimed Berthe. "You think me of your kind. I'm a lady; I was a
+fool to come here."
+
+"Sure, you're a lady; and for that very reason ought to make a mint of
+money. I'll tell you what's the matter with you, Berthe--you're a mule.
+I swear," she exclaimed, suddenly conscious of wrong, "my boarders is
+the bane of my life. Mules--but there, nobody'd believe what I've
+borne."
+
+"_Malheureuse!_" sneered Berthe.
+
+"I tell you, missy, girls don't talk that way to me!" exclaimed the
+red-gowned dame, perhaps suspecting unseemly profanity veiled in a
+foreign tongue.
+
+"I don't want to talk any way to you. Get out," replied Berthe.
+
+"And the board bill?"
+
+"I've had nothing to eat for two days."
+
+"And won't have as long as you're a mule. If you have no money by this
+time to-morrow, out you go, and without your trunk; so Frenchy,"
+concluded the woman, changing her tone to persuasion, "be reasonable.
+You shall have dinner if you'll promise to go out afterward. Think it
+over," and she waddled off.
+
+Berthe lay back upon the pillow, her long arms stretched above her head,
+and thought it over.
+
+She had left Mrs. Leon long ago, and since then her steps had been
+downward. For awhile a nursery governess, which, being amply capable,
+she might have long remained had it not been for her eyes. She was not
+altogether conscious of the capacity of her eyes, and was long innocent
+of the knowledge of the strife and hatred they had wrought in the family
+in which she served. Maltreated by an infuriated mistress, she had
+avenged herself amply, living for months in luxury, and on the money and
+caresses legally belonging to the other. But she had never cared for her
+sinner, and he had been glad to creep back to that which he had
+dishonored, not forgiven, but accepted as a hard necessity. Her luxuries
+and her money were soon spent--as for the rest, it is a dark tale that
+she recalls, lying there majestic, with her long arms above her black
+head and her dark eyes brooding.
+
+The present was a problem. The move to this house was toward a deeper
+degradation than any she had known, and she recoiled from its demands.
+She knew its probable end, too. She was shrewd, dominant if she chose to
+be; in short, no fool. She could rise to prosperity and become like the
+gargoyle, but the prospect sickened her. All the inmates of the house
+were to her abhorrent, but the gargoyle was a loathsome, soulless,
+pitiless beast, only not a fool. The others were fools, and she knew,
+feeling the sparks of humanity within her, that she must even be a fool
+rather than a beast. And the end of the fool was misery, from which
+there was but one escape.
+
+She was hungry. It was true that, except as to some slices of bread,
+smuggled to her by soft-hearted ones, she had eaten nothing for two
+days. She had long ago pawned her articles of jewelry. Her clothes were
+in the clutch of the beast. She would have to apply to her for garments
+for the street. She must surrender.
+
+So she asked for her clothes and her dinner. The beast was gracious, but
+chary as to giving too many garments. The truth was, the beast hoped her
+boarder would not return. She had the trunk--she was sick of the mule.
+
+Berthe wandered toward the lower part of the city. Plainly dressed, her
+carriage dignified, she was not molested, nor did she cast her eyes upon
+any passer-by. She walked straight on, yet not rapidly, for there was no
+purpose in her walk. Useless to seek that man upon whose wife she had
+avenged herself; he had been hurried off to do penance in the country;
+even if he had returned, she knew nothing of his present abode.
+
+Mrs. Leon was a dweller in hotels, and at this season, not in town.
+Besides, Mrs. Leon could not be ignorant of what had been accomplished
+by the nursery governess she had herself recommended.
+
+She wished now, for in truth, as she walked on, terror of possible
+starvation began to haunt her, that she had carried out an often
+neglected impulse to write to a man she knew, and who she believed could
+help her. She would have done so before this, but the man's wife was a
+friend of Mrs. Leon. This recollection had prevented her addressing him.
+Yet she knew he would have helped her. He was young, he was kind. Ah! he
+was adorable.
+
+So she walked on, thinking of that adorable man, forgetting her fear of
+starvation. He had kissed her, or rather, and she smiled as she
+corrected herself, she had kissed him. He had been helpless. The
+innocent!
+
+By this time she was in Fourteenth Street. A man seeing the smile upon
+her lips, stood in her path and addressed her. She moved aside and
+walked on; the smile had been born of a memory sweet to her. The man
+looked after her, astonished at the majestic ignoring of himself.
+
+Suddenly the woman stopped, as if struck. Then she started, walking
+quickly, and entered a brilliantly lighted resort.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Leonard had passed a sleepless night in the train. In New York he went
+to a hotel which he had never before frequented. He desired to be alone.
+He had left home to think, not to seek acquaintance or distraction.
+
+And he thought, walking the streets of the great city until he was
+footsore, and the more he thought, the less capable was he of reasoning,
+the more weary he grew of thought; finally, striding onward in a dream
+of incoherent fancies, that were not thoughts, but impotent efforts of a
+tired brain. All day long there swayed before his eyes visions inspired
+by objects seen but not noted and most incongruous. The passing glance
+upon a billboard, gay with motley figures, gave birth to a picture of
+living damsels, languishing in postures of inviting loveliness. He saw
+no stony streets, no squalid scenes, but wandered in a Moslem heaven in
+whose crystal streams Naiads bathed fair round limbs or sported in
+wanton frolic in silvery cascades, anon decking with lilies the roseate
+beauties of their queen. He took no heed of time or place, pacing street
+after street, along the wharves, seeing neither ship nor dray; in the
+Hebrew crowd of the East Side, noting nothing of the soft-eyed men with
+dirty beards, nor the women wearing wigs of jute, nor the children
+dancing in the streets to hand-organs, nor any of the sights of that
+crowded foreign city, full of strange interest. Of the things before his
+eyes he saw nothing; nor could he, being entranced by raptures which had
+tried the souls of saints a thousand years ago!
+
+At ten o'clock at night, having eaten nothing since an early and
+neglected breakfast, he stood in the street, conscious that he must eat
+or faint. He entered a brilliantly lighted room where there were tables,
+but which was nearly empty.
+
+Back of the room he saw another filled with people, decked with palms
+and artificial grottoes. He entered and sat down at the first unoccupied
+table.
+
+"Bring me a sandwich," he said to the waiter, "and a drink."
+
+The sandwich was brought and the drink. The latter Leonard supposed was
+wine. He remembered that he had scruples against wine-drinking; had, in
+fact, never tasted wine. He was too tired to care much for scruples, and
+besides, he was faint, and even his scruples permitted wine in case of
+illness. He swallowed the liquor, which was whiskey, at one gulp, and
+commenced to eat ravenously.
+
+He ordered another sandwich and another drink, which was brought, this
+time with a carafe of water in addition. He drank greedily of the water,
+reserving his liquor, and, as ravenously as before, consumed his second
+sandwich.
+
+Then he looked about him with more interest in his surroundings than he
+had known during all that day. He felt comfortable, happy in fact. He
+stretched out his legs and sipped his liquor, this time noting the
+strength of the beverage, which made him cough and brought the tears to
+his eyes, causing a woman to smile slyly. He smiled in return, then
+looked quickly away, abashed at his own temerity in thus answering the
+involuntary expression of a strange lady. This, as he looked about him,
+he thought must be one of those German beer-gardens he had heard about,
+but in this country had never seen. Evidently the people did not bring
+their children. That was well. Beer-drinking was a bad example for
+children. The women looked tired, he thought, though some were very
+rosy, remarkably so, and all were tawdry. The men were not a
+nice-looking set, though there were exceptions. Many were not much more
+than boys, and these affected brilliant, if somewhat dirty, neckwear.
+There were things about this place that offended him; principally, the
+tone of the men. They lolled a good deal and smoked in the women's
+faces; that was German, he supposed. The women, of whom a number were
+alone, were better behaved. He noticed a waiter order one to leave the
+place; that was singular, especially as she had slunk in very quietly
+and had seemed very humble. Suddenly the great orchestrion commenced to
+squeal and bang and clash, and soon the heads of the people were
+strangely bobbing, keeping time; now the strains grew soft and
+plaintive; a profound sadness crept over him as he listened to what
+seemed the requiem of a dying soul. He felt the tears rising in his
+eyes.
+
+For a long time he had been eagerly watched by a woman. Berthe could not
+be sure if this were indeed the man she knew. What could he be doing
+here? Half hidden behind a curtain which draped a huge column, she
+watched the heaving breast of the man. Suddenly, she saw his head fall
+forward, smashing a tumbler, and a cry of agony broke from him.
+"Natalie, Natalie!"
+
+It might have been the last despairing wail of the soul doomed
+thenceforward to darkness, whose requiem he had heard. To the obscene
+observers and the superintendent of the place it was the cry of a
+drunken man, who had no business there.
+
+There was no hubbub. The habitués of the place comprehended that nothing
+of that sort was allowed. The man was quickly hustled into the front
+room by the manager.
+
+"Get his hat," said this personage to a waiter. "Has he paid his bill?"
+he questioned as the man brought the hat.
+
+"Yes, except the broken glass."
+
+"Damn the glass!" replied the manager, who desired to get rid of the
+drunkard. "Come, young fellow, steady on your pins now and be off."
+
+A woman slipped her arm under Leonard's. "I will take care of him," she
+said.
+
+The manager looked at the pair as they made their way toward the street.
+"Do you know her?" he asked of an employee who had witnessed the
+departure.
+
+"She's not a regular, sure."
+
+"Nor he. Well, it's not our affair," and the manager returned to his
+duties.
+
+The two wandered off, the man's unsteady steps supported tenderly by the
+woman. When the sun rose, his head rested on her bosom and her lips
+hovered lovingly above his own, and the hum of the waking city, borne to
+his ears, may, to him, have been the distant harmony of a pæan of
+victory hymned in hell.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+A DELECTABLE DISCUSSION, IN WHICH A SHAKSPERIAN MATRON IS ROUTED.
+
+
+Natalie Claghorn had always nourished a sentiment, which with many is a
+conviction, with most a hope, that man is something more than the futile
+hero of a sorry comedy--not made to live merely that he may die. Hence,
+religion had been a need of her being, and, though unconsciously, she
+had developed a creed of her own, vague, no doubt, from the positive
+standpoint, but one which excluded those essential elements of the faith
+of her husband, Hell and the Devil; grim inventions these which, while
+imbibing wisdom at the paternal knee, she had learned were mere memories
+of ancient Oriental mythologies. This view, in so far as she had given
+the matter any thought, she had supposed the view commonly held, and
+universally held among the cultured. Recently, indeed, there had been a
+moment in which even with her bodily eyes she had, as she had then
+believed, beheld the terrors and the torments of the damned; but as many
+men and women, who believe not in ghosts, have nevertheless seen these
+dwellers of the shades, and yet in less receptive phases of the mind
+have been able to dismiss their visitants to the shadows from which they
+were evoked, so Natalie had been able to discard belief in the reality
+of her vision. Nevertheless, though incredulous, he who has seen a ghost
+remains impressed, and the memory of her experience naturally recurred
+with her theological studies, serving to emphasize the horrible, rather
+than the absurd, aspect of her acquirements.
+
+Her desire to know had been honest, and she imputed honesty to others;
+hence, when Leonard, with pen and voice, asseverated his belief in a
+creed which must render paternity impossible to any being with a
+conscience, she had been confounded by the attitude he presented. She
+was not aware that between her husband and herself the sources of
+sympathy had always been shallow, and she was quite as ignorant of
+theological frenzy as she was of the knowledge of masculine passion. She
+had loved him; and she had loved Mrs. Joe, Paula, the Marquise, her maid
+Berthe; in fact, she had loved, and still loved, humanity, as far as she
+knew it, and it was thus that she had loved her husband, though,
+doubtless, in his case, this gentle flame had burned with more intensity
+than in others.
+
+Though grieved that Leonard had left her without saying good-bye, yet
+she felt that he had acted wisely, in that he had given her time to
+think without the disturbing sense of his presence in his repellant
+mood. And during this period an incident occurred which aided her in
+finding the only solution of the problems which vexed her.
+
+It was not to be expected of the Hampton matrons that they continue
+their tolerant attitude, with regard to Mrs. Leonard Claghorn. Her
+continued languid health after the birth of her child, the subsequent
+bereavement and absence, these had afforded an excuse for neglect; but
+now there was solicitude, and in a certain circle of dames, which met
+every fortnight to discuss Shakspere, but whereat other subjects, as
+possessing more of novelty, were occasionally considered, some rather
+severe strictures were made, in reference to Professor Claghorn's
+apparent inability to convert his wife--he who had so audaciously, if
+not successfully, coped with Brigston.
+
+"Brilliancy is less effective than earnestness," opined Mrs. Waring,
+wife of Professor Waring, whose forte was Hebrew, and who was noted for
+great erudition, a large family and a feeble intellect.
+
+"In the long run, no doubt," assented Mrs. Professor Flint. "But surely,
+she is not really unconverted!"
+
+"She certainly hides her light. There are times--I hope I am not
+uncharitable--when I wonder, suppose she were a Jesuit!"
+
+"Awful! She's French; her mother was noble--of the old nobility--and the
+old nobility are all Jesuits."
+
+"And a Jesuit will stick at nothing in the way of deception. It's a
+terrible possibility!"
+
+Natalie found apologists, notably Mrs. Tremaine, who maintained that
+there were no female Jesuits, and who defended the absent, partly
+because she was a spirited and generous woman, partly because, at this
+particular period, she experienced an unusually distinct impression of
+her own importance by reason of an acknowledged claim to the admiration
+of the other Shaksperians. Even Mrs. Waring, the mother of ten, was
+inclined to look with indulgence, if not with envy, upon this champion,
+though she whispered to Mrs. Flint that "after a half dozen, Mary
+Tremaine would change her note."
+
+However that may be, Mrs. Tremaine's note remained on this occasion
+triumphant, and she glowed with victory, and also with good intentions;
+for she resolved to warn Natalie that the gossips were preparing for a
+feast, "and," said the lady to herself, "it must be stopped; never allow
+a tiger a taste of blood," which mental exclamation clearly indicates
+the exaltation of the lady's spirit.
+
+In this spirit, as soon as the Shaksperian séance was over, she started
+for the Morley mansion, full of excellent intentions and the proud
+possessor of a secret already known to the wives of all the professors
+of the Seminary, except Natalie; and which, if confided to the latter,
+would indicate that friendly feeling by which she was really actuated,
+and thus pave the way to the warning she wished to give. She was also
+impelled by the pardonable desire to further impart the information
+already widely diffused; and which, in fact, could not remain much
+longer a secret, unless the complacent lady decided on complete
+seclusion for some months.
+
+"Yes," she said, "I suppose it will be noticeable soon. Professor
+Tremaine is so proud; he actually struts. He hopes for a boy."
+
+"Unfortunate woman!" exclaimed Natalie. "How can you smile?"
+
+"Dear Mrs. Claghorn, I forgot your own recent loss. Believe me,
+time----"
+
+"But, have I understood? You hope for a baby--you a Christian wife?"
+
+"Why not I--a Christian wife, as you say?" was the answer of the
+visitor, who was both shocked and puzzled by the expression of her
+hostess.
+
+"I do not understand," exclaimed Natalie hopelessly; then suddenly: "How
+can you dare? Have you no compassion, no fear? You can smile, believing
+that an awful calamity hangs over you!"
+
+"Awful calamity!" echoed the bewildered visitor, perhaps a little
+alarmed by the speaker's energy.
+
+"Is it not? Have I understood aright? Are you going to have a baby?"
+
+"I have said so. Why the fact should affect you so strangely is a
+mystery to me."
+
+"Do you believe this book?" and Natalie seized the well-known volume
+with its blue cover.
+
+"Certainly, I believe the Confession."
+
+"And your husband?"
+
+"Does he not teach it?"
+
+"And believing that this book is true, knowing that the furnaces of hell
+are choked with sinners--knowing this, you and your husband welcome the
+birth of a human being! God help me, and you, Mrs. Tremaine, forgive me,
+but I cannot understand these things. Why! you believe that your baby
+may be damned!"
+
+"How dare you say such things? My child will not be damned. Ah! You poor
+woman, I see. You have brooded over your own baby's death, and have been
+dwelling on horrors. I have heard of such cases. Dear Mrs. Claghorn,
+dismiss such dreadful folly from your mind. Babies are not damned;
+nobody has believed that for years."
+
+"_I_ do not fear for my child, nor for yours. But you--you cannot be
+sure he will die. He may grow up--what then?"
+
+"Then he must take his chance," said the would-be mother, though her
+face grew white. "We must all trust in God's grace."
+
+"But he lends His grace to his Elect only. Unless your infant was chosen
+from before creation, he _must_ be damned. You say this book is true,
+and yet you dare to have a child who may burn in hell! How can you
+commit such wickedness?" In her energy Natalie had arisen, and now stood
+before the unhappy matron in what to her seemed a threatening attitude.
+
+"I--I--do not comprehend," she faltered. "You have no right to speak
+thus to me."
+
+"No right! Have I not the right of humanity, the right of a
+child-bearing woman?"
+
+"But----"
+
+"I had some excuse, I did not know. But you knew--and yet you dared!"
+
+"I didn't," whimpered the lady. "It was the Professor--it was God's
+work. You talk horribly."
+
+"God's work! And you lend yourself to God's work! You could have
+died--anything, rather than be an instrument of wickedness in God's
+hands!"
+
+Mrs. Tremaine breathed a great sigh of relief when she found herself
+safely on the outside of the Morley mansion. She sat for awhile on a
+bench in the Square, and when she had in part recovered her equanimity,
+she went slowly homeward, pondering over the difficulties which present
+themselves to those who try to do good in secret.
+
+Yet she had done good; for when Natalie beheld this matron in all the
+pride and joy of approaching maternity, she saw in the spectacle a
+living denial of the frightful dogma which, if believed, must have
+turned the woman's triumph to despair. The orthodox lady served to
+demonstrate the fact that the upholders of hell do not believe in hell;
+for the conclusion to which Natalie had arrived was sound: The woman
+that believes in hell dare not bear a child.
+
+Leonard's continuing absence afforded time for contemplation of this
+discovery and its consequences; among others the gradual conviction
+which subjected Leonard, with thousands of others, to the accusation of
+maintaining palpable falsehood as the living truth. No other conclusion
+was possible in the face of the fact that humanity can judge only by the
+aid of human faculties, and that these must, perforce, pronounce eternal
+punishment incompatible with justice, and preordination to everlasting
+misery as impossible to a God of mercy. Her training made it difficult
+for her to understand the palliation of the offense of those who
+maintained the paradoxes which denied their actions. She was not aware
+that the minds of such as Leonard had, from infancy, been receptacles
+into which had been emptied all the follies bred from the meditations of
+those who profess the mission of being interpreters of Omniscience; nor
+could she fairly estimate the partisan rage which carried such men,
+engaged in controversy, even beyond their convictions. She did, however,
+gather some comprehension of these extenuating forces from the further
+researches offered by Leonard's table, on which were strewn numerous
+pamphlets referring to the late theological war. The tone of rancor
+which pervaded the effusions of the religious antagonists was repellant,
+but she was shrewd enough to see in so much sound and fury evidences of
+weakness; and when she came to the theologian who lauded the "beautiful
+faith" of that Christian father who demolished his pagan adversary with
+the words, "I believe, _because_ it is impossible," she closed the book,
+and thenceforth avoided further contemplation of the high mysteries of
+theology.
+
+She could not but condemn Leonard, though she would not dwell upon the
+thought. To her, as to Dr. Stanley, belief in the impossible was
+impossible, and, therefore, pretense of such belief dishonest; yet,
+since these pretenders were not otherwise dishonest, there must be some
+ground for their attitude, which to her must remain a mystery, but which
+ought to cause her to hesitate in judging. So, she would not blame
+Leonard; she perceived now, that her own conduct merited reproach. She
+was ignorant of her own cruelty and her own absurdity, and would have
+resented those terms as applied to her attitude; but she acknowledged
+with sorrow that she had not been kind, and for her unkindness she
+craved forgiveness.
+
+Very early one morning she started to walk to the cemetery, going by way
+of the shore, and glorying in the grandeur of the ocean and the breeze
+that came, health-laden, from its bosom. She stood and looked upon the
+broad expanse of blue, recalling the day when Leonard had plunged into
+the raging waters to rescue the boy. That effort had been in vain, as to
+its intended object, but had it never been made she would not be walking
+here a wife. She had loved him before, but not with a love that would
+have urged her to grant him the boon of kisses; but, fresh from that
+brave deed he was a hero, had taken the hero's meed from her lips, and
+in that act had sealed the mastery which his courage had won. She gazed
+long upon the waters, listening to the surge and noting the glint of the
+sun, tinting with rose the billows rolling toward her. She sighed and,
+pressing her lips together, turned her back upon the waves and hurried
+on. It was as though she had resolved not to see some fair vision
+suggested by the rose-tint in the feathery edging of the billows.
+
+When she entered the beautiful cemetery the birds were chirping in the
+trees, only their joyous trills breaking the silence of the city of the
+dead. She sat down beside the grave of her boy.
+
+And here, recalling her recent thoughts and her condemnation of others
+who were dishonest in their attitude toward God, she saw the need of
+honesty for herself in all things. If there were facts in her life which
+she had been willing to ignore, she must look them in the face and deal
+with them as best she might, being honest always. If, in marrying
+Leonard, she had striven to escape the longing for a love denied her,
+and in so doing had cheated her husband, she must admit her fault and
+resolve to make every reparation in her power. If she had chosen to
+believe that she had craved religion, and in her husband had seen its
+embodiment, while in truth she had craved an earthly love, and had in
+marriage weakly sought refuge from her shame, she must even admit her
+fault and do what might be in her power to avert its consequences. Not
+in the futile attempt to deny hearing to her conscience, to murder her
+reason, but in every wifely allegiance. Thus far she had wofully failed
+in such allegiance. Even before the last sad breach between her husband
+and herself she had allowed estrangement to come between them, and had
+so exclusively devoted herself to her child that Leonard had been
+secondary. It was true that she had not consciously intended this, but
+she had been willing that it be so. Her consciousness of wrong warmed
+her heart toward her absent husband, and filled it with longing to
+reconsecrate herself to him. He would surely come to-day! As she sped
+homeward she was more and more persuaded of it, and, finally, believed
+that on her arrival she would find him waiting for her. As she neared
+the house she trembled with expectation; she longed to clasp her arms
+about his neck and falter her prayer for pardon, and assure him of her
+love. There should be no shadows between them in future. She had dared
+to look truth in the face, and, lo! it was no longer truth. All the
+foolish, sinful longings of the past, persistent because she had refused
+to recognize them, had been dissipated by the light of day. The present
+moment was to live forever. Henceforth, Leonard, and only he, should
+dwell in her heart of hearts.
+
+In her agitation she fumbled at the door-lock, then desisted, for from
+the hallway she heard the firm step of a man coming to the door. Her
+heart beat wildly; another moment and she would be forgiven.
+
+The door was suddenly opened. With a glad cry Natalie spread wide her
+own, and in the same instant was clasped in the arms of Mark Claghorn.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+WHEN MANHOOD IS LOST WOMAN'S TIME IS COME.
+
+
+In the misery of awakening to a consciousness of existing facts, Leonard
+could see no possibility of extrication from the bog of degradation into
+which he had fallen. With excellent intentions on the part of his
+pastors and masters, he had been trained to dishonest depreciation of
+his own strength, and he was now without confidence or courage. His days
+had been without guile, and the unaccustomed aspect of guilt overwhelmed
+him with hopeless terror. The precepts instilled from infancy thundered
+direful threats, dwelling lingeringly on the curses of Omnipotence; and
+in the moment of the acquirement of the dread knowledge that he had been
+self-deceived, that the Grace of God had not been his, that he, like
+other doomed and defrauded sinners, had mistaken those "common
+operations of the spirit," that even non-elect may have, for the
+effectual call addressed only to the few chosen from eternity, and which
+to all others is a monstrous mockery--in the moment of this awful
+revelation he felt all the suffocating horror of that which he had
+taught as truth: that for the weak there is no Father, no path but the
+path of evil.
+
+The woman looked upon the exhibition of misery thus presented with
+compassion tinged with scorn, yet with bewilderment. She had never seen
+a sinner like this before; but instinctively she felt that when manhood
+is lost woman's time has come.
+
+"_Voyons, chéri_," she said, "what is it all about?" and she drew his
+head to her bosom.
+
+He grasped at the offered sympathy as a starving man may grasp a loaf.
+The picture he presented was not adorable, but there was truth in it,
+if, also, some unconscious comedy; and her compassion was not without
+sincerity, though his broken story was of less interest to her than the
+simplicity of the narrator. She felt that she had been fashioned fit
+for this man's needs; and while she soothed him, his spirits rose a
+little, and he experienced a sort of satisfaction that, since he had
+taken this direction, he had gone amazingly far. See, now, what Natalie
+had done!
+
+They rescued Berthe's clothes and left the boarding-house, and were soon
+quartered in a small French hotel, bathed and well dressed. The
+surroundings were cheerful; the lunch table, with its bright glassware
+and silver, white napery and bottle of champagne in its bucket of ice,
+was inviting; the woman was gay, yet still compassionate and tender.
+With the first glass of wine Leonard felt actually happy; and as he sat
+opposite the well-clad woman with the great dark eyes, now languid and
+inviting, now bright with challenge, and listened to the prattle, which
+women of her nation can make so engaging, he, looking back upon the past
+week, was enraptured by the contrast. Of such as she really was he had
+no perception; he could no more estimate her character than could the
+veriest college freshman, weary with knowledge of the world. Her
+brightness of intellect was apparent, and there was neither coarseness
+nor ignorance of amenities in her bearing. She had said to the mistress
+of the boarding-house that she was a "lady," and she fitted sufficiently
+the ordinary acceptation of a much-abused term. She told her story (with
+the essential suppressions and variations), and he saw in her one who
+had suffered from the injustice of the world. She admitted being in the
+last stress of poverty, and confessed to having suffered actual hunger,
+thanking him, with the first sheen of tears in her eyes, for rescuing
+her clothes from the clutches of the hawk landlady.
+
+All these confidences, sweetened by moderate draughts of champagne--for
+Berthe preached moderation, and economy as well--insensibly disposed the
+man to further confidences of his own, and she listened eagerly to the
+tale, of which she had heard disjointed fragments in his first outbreak
+of despair.
+
+"It is all plain, _chéri_" was her comment. "Mademoiselle--I mean your
+wife--never loved you."
+
+"I know that," was the gloomy answer.
+
+"Ah, but why not? You so beautiful a man, so good!" and she knelt beside
+him and put her arms about his neck.
+
+"So beautiful! That is a matter of taste. So good!" he sighed, but let
+his head droop on her shoulder all the same.
+
+"Any woman must love you," she murmured. "But one thing could hinder."
+
+"And that thing?"
+
+"That she first loved another," she whispered.
+
+He was silent.
+
+"We all knew it in France," she said.
+
+"The Marquise?" he asked huskily.
+
+"The Marquise, assuredly. Why, we ran away from her because of it."
+
+"Tell me all you know," he said, after awhile.
+
+The woman's heart fluttered; here were her tools. She could keep him,
+and she would. Kneeling thus beside him, her arms about him, her body
+close to his, his cheek against her own, he was hers. No woman should
+take him from her. Rights? Bah! Hers were the rights of conquest, and of
+the fierce demands which bade her hold what she had gained. There were
+no other rights.
+
+"She loved him always," she murmured. "It is all told in that." Yet she
+told much more; of how the Marquise had always suspected, of wanderings
+in Paris with no other chaperone than herself; on which occasions,
+knowing what was expected of her, and unwilling to spoil the pretty game
+she watched, she had discreetly remained as much as possible in the
+background. "He was generous and gave me presents--but, _ciel_! Why
+shouldn't he with a gold mine?" They had especially affected churches,
+and picture galleries where they could sit in secluded nooks, and where
+Natalie's attendant could easily lose herself temporarily. "The Marquise
+raved furiously," added the narrator, "but she would have raved more
+furiously still had she known all I knew."
+
+"She never loved me," faltered Leonard.
+
+"But I loved you the moment I saw you. It was hard to have you leave me
+after that kiss. Tell me it was hard for you."
+
+"It was hard; better had I never left you."
+
+"And now you never will. You have made me love you; and I,--I have made
+you love me; is it not so? Is it wicked? Ah, no; it is good, it is
+good."
+
+To him who heard the murmured words and was enveloped in the tenderness
+she shed upon him; who felt her lips upon his own, and who, in the
+contact, found sweet content--to him, this was a foretaste of the life
+that might be, if he had the courage to embrace it. He was like some
+worn and weary pilgrim in arid sands who, visioning an oasis, lies him
+down by a green brookside, rests in the fresh breezes, listens to the
+rippling waters, sees their sparkle and inhales the fragrance of the
+flowers, and so is lulled to fatal languor, unconscious that all is a
+mere mirage.
+
+To her he was no mere wayside victim, but in his resemblance to him
+whose picture she had held toward heaven in the church, a reminder of
+the happy days when first she had known love. She longed desperately to
+retain him, and though she feared the dark gulf of misery in which he
+had found her, with him she would have even faced it again, rather than
+safety with another; so that her cajolements had the grace of sincerity,
+though the parting, which he knew must come, remained constantly the
+dark background of the present. It may seem that to leave the woman
+required little heroism; that whatever charms she might possess for him,
+that those of dignity, of worthy citizenship, of respect, of all that
+even worldly men hold dear, would allure him with greater power. All of
+which is reasonable, and, no doubt, such considerations do often operate
+in cases where discreet sinners, having sinned in secret, quietly emerge
+from the bog of evil-doing, cleanse their garments and, animated by good
+resolutions, go forth among their fellows, keeping their own counsel;
+but these are sinners of experience. The innocent man, like the innocent
+woman, falls far when he falls; such men sacrifice present respect and
+hope for the future, choosing ruin; and while there are numerous roads
+to that goal, the most frequented is that one where woman roams.
+
+But whatever heroism may have been necessary, this man possessed it. He
+turned his face resolutely from the allurements of the present, and, if
+trembling, faced the future.
+
+"It cannot be otherwise," he said, falteringly. "I do not leave you to
+return to happiness. I might find that with you. I go because both for
+you and for me it is right. We may have years of life before us; let us
+use them for repentance. In this lies our only hope."
+
+"Do you know what my life must be?"
+
+"One of better deeds. It is not for me," he said, sorrowfully, "to try
+to win you to high thoughts. That would seem impious, and would inspire
+you with just contempt for me and for those teachings I have disgraced.
+But I urge you to consider these things. Seek counsel; I can give you
+the means; or, if you prefer, go to a priest of your own church."
+
+She smiled bitterly. Knowing his own deadly depression, he could read
+her thoughts; he implored her not to despair, pointing out that that
+which was a solemn obligation, her temporal welfare, would be surely
+fulfilled by him. "Our unholy union," he said, with sad simplicity,
+"entails upon me the duty of making due provision for you. This will be
+a matter for immediate attention; promise me to remain quietly here
+until you hear from me."
+
+And so it was arranged, he giving her money for present needs. He
+watched her while she packed his valise, touched by wifely attentions,
+the lack of which, he told himself, had long been a grievance, of which
+now he knew the cause. He looked about him, noting the embellishments
+which her taste and her training had enabled her to add to the room,
+even in the short period of their occupancy, and the sense of a
+justifying grievance grew stronger.
+
+"There's room for this," she said, holding up a bottle of champagne, the
+last of a series, and unused because she had insisted upon moderation.
+He watched her place it in the bag. He had resolved never again to drink
+wine, but he would not refuse what she gave him, denying herself.
+
+They said good-bye. He left her, promising soon to see her, and in his
+heart solemnly resolving that they should never meet again. The lie was
+but one more added to his catalogue of sins, and had been necessary. As
+to that provision for her needs, he would make it generously. He could
+not as yet see how details were to be arranged, but for the present
+there were other things to think of. A man cannot suddenly make the
+acquaintance of himself without paying some attention to the stranger.
+
+He remained a day longer in the city, and then, absolutely unable to
+bear solitude, and with a manful struggle to avoid returning to the
+beckoning comfort he had left, he started on the dreaded journey
+homeward.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+A BOTTLE OF CHAMPAGNE.
+
+
+As he left the train in the early morning and crossed the Square toward
+his house he was, notwithstanding a half-defiant carriage, assumed to
+hide the cringing of his heart, probably the most miserable man in
+Hampton. He sat down upon the bench where he had rested after his first
+meeting with Berthe and, recalling that meeting, remembered how he had
+striven to give a jaunty trend to his thoughts, and had tried to
+persuade himself that the kissing episode was but a venial misstep,
+having indeed little of dignity, but even less of sin. Behold, now, to
+what it had led him!--that deed in which he had actually gloried, seeing
+himself, because of it, somewhat more a man of the world than was
+suspected, with experiences concerning which honor bound him to secrecy
+as it did men of experience; wherefore he had despised the blabbers of
+his college days, who either kissed not at all, yet boasted of such
+kissing, or, displaying equal ingenuousness and greater meanness,
+bragged of actual kisses. He recalled all this with real sorrow, not
+unmingled with contempt for the callow youth who had sat here indulging
+in boyish fancies, the wickedness whereof was surpassed only by their
+shallowness. It was then, he thought, that his unconscious yet
+diabolical arts upon the woman, destined to be his victim, had
+commenced. Though his present misery was as great as he could bear and
+his penitence sincere, nevertheless, there was an underlying
+consciousness, and pride in the fact, of more than ordinary fascinating
+powers, in respect of women. She had loved him from the moment she had
+seen him, and had loved him to her own destruction! Though he regarded
+with horror that which he believed himself to have compassed, yet the
+underlying complacency was there. All these years she had been faithful
+to his memory. Alas for her weakness! alas for the fate which had made
+him, in respect to her, a villain! He truly repented,--was he not bowed
+to the ground in humiliation and sorrow for his sin? Yet, was he wholly
+responsible, he who had, in ignorance, exercised seductive powers,
+possessed in ignorance?
+
+The inner being of this man, of noble outward form, was not cast in
+heroic mould, such moulds being seldom used in the fashioning of our
+neighbors; yet he was no unusual product, being the inevitable result of
+various influences, for most of which he was not responsible. An
+idolized child, a boy of wondrous promise as of wondrous beauty, a youth
+completely filling all promises of boyhood, early called to the service
+of Heaven, and so, somewhat set apart and cherished with a care
+befitting a sacred vessel, to be guarded from every rude touch lest its
+perfection be endangered,--thus he had been fitted for the world. Every
+natural healthy instinct had been bent and distorted by the loving hands
+of ignorance, while equally natural impulses had been ignored as
+unwholesome weeds, which would find no place in a nature dedicated and
+cultivated for Heaven. He had been esteemed as somewhat higher than
+ordinary humanity, while human vices had been nourished in him so that
+they bore blossoms so fair to look upon that they were as virtues. His
+innate vanity had been so fostered that it had become the central
+product of his moral being, permeating every thought, mingled with every
+act. His most patent and engaging graces had been developed by this
+vice. His frankness, his amiability, his generosity, his mental
+aptitude, were all means for winning the esteem he craved, and had been
+employed, in fact, to that end. They were real virtues. He was in
+goodness all he seemed to be. The kindness of heart for which he was
+praised and loved, even this excellence aided in the nurture of that
+self-complacency which led him to ascribe the woman's undoing to his
+witchery, rather than to her willingness.
+
+As he raised his eyes and caught sight of his home, and knew that he
+must enter the house, the subtle consolation which had formed the
+undercurrent of his despondency was forgotten, or, perhaps, its utter
+worthlessness for the moment recognized. The whole horrible load of
+regret weighed again upon him, crushing his spirit. There was no comfort
+now in any phase of his reflections. He had gone forth from the home of
+his innocent boyhood, as of his worthy manhood, unhappy, indeed, but
+claiming and receiving the respect of all his fellows. Now, he must
+creep back, so vile a creature that he dreaded to meet the eyes even of
+his servants.
+
+As to his wife, though he had left her without good-bye, and though
+there had been estrangement between them, he knew that he must meet her
+face to face, and while he dreaded the meeting, still he longed for it
+and longed to throw himself upon his knees before her and confess. As to
+that which had estranged them, it seemed a trifle to him now. Let her
+have her will; if therein there was to be punishment for him, was he not
+willing to do penance all his days? As to those confidences made by
+Berthe, while he believed them, he believed only what he had been told.
+As to seriously thinking of actual guilt in connection with Natalie, she
+was too truly estimated by him, and he too truly innocent, still, to
+harbor base suspicions. But he knew that she had not loved him, and in
+the dismal oppression caused by his own misdeeds this conviction created
+a distinct and sharp pain, and yet it had its own alleviation. He, too,
+had something to forgive, and did forgive, even now, before forgiveness
+had been granted him. Yes, he would meet her face to face, and there
+should be repentance between them and, as each had done wrong, so each
+would do all that could be done in reparation, and if the sacrifice she
+had demanded of him be still required, he would make it.
+
+And thus, while Natalie, in the cemetery, had seen the way to
+reconciliation with her husband, and had recognized that she had wronged
+him, and in that recognition had found in her heart a greater love for
+him than she had known before, so he with similar thoughts, though more
+confusedly and with less honesty, though not consciously dishonest,
+slowly made his way toward the house. He entered by means of his
+latchkey, meeting nobody, and went at once to the library. It was still
+early: doubtless Natalie was in her room. He was not sorry for a
+respite.
+
+He was faint and felt the need of refreshment. No doubt, the maids were
+about, so he went toward the bell, then drew back, recognizing in his
+action his dread of meeting any occupant of the house. Then he
+remembered that in his valise was a small bottle of champagne. He was
+not sorry, now, for Berthe's foresight, and in his heart thanked her. He
+recalled how pleasantly this wine had affected him, how it had given him
+courage, and how his horrible depression had vanished under its
+influence. Notwithstanding his resolve to resume his old practice of
+abstinence in regard to wine, he was glad that he had this chance
+bottle, for he had never needed courage more than now. He wished he had
+some food, for he had eaten but little for many hours; the wine would
+serve until he had the courage to ask for food.
+
+While he was opening his bottle the front-door bell rang. The library,
+its doorway hung with heavy curtains, faced the entrance to the house.
+Leonard, peeping between the curtains, saw Mark Claghorn admitted and
+ushered by the servant into the drawing-room.
+
+The sight of Mark, whom he had supposed in Europe, aroused his anger. He
+hated Mark as one who had gained a love that should have been his own.
+Under the circumstances he was not sorry that his presence in the house
+was unknown. Mark, who was noted as an early riser, had probably ridden
+over from Stormpoint on some trifling errand, and, soon after Natalie
+appeared, would doubtless leave the house.
+
+And so he waited, thirstily quaffing the champagne and wishing he had a
+biscuit. He tried not to think of the visitor in the drawing-room, but
+found that effort vain, thinking of him, in fact, with fast-rising
+anger, until he was on the point of seeking the man to force a quarrel
+on him which should banish the intruder from the house forever.
+
+He was arrested in this intention by hearing Mark emerge from the
+drawing-room and walk quickly to the front door. Leonard peeped through
+the curtains and saw his wife, with her arms outspread, fall upon Mark's
+breast, and heard her cry aloud:
+
+"My darling, my darling, welcome home!" and with upturned face she drew
+Mark's downward, kissing his lips as she had never kissed the watcher.
+
+Who staggered backward, sinking into a chair, dazed as by a blow.
+
+Her face had been illumined, glowing with happiness. Her dancing eyes,
+her outspread arms, her lips upturned, her gladness unrestrained, so
+impatient in her longing that she could not wait for greater privacy
+than the hall--in these he had seen a woman never seen by him before.
+This was Mark's welcome home. What was his to be?
+
+Great tears streamed down his face; of wounded vanity, of love and trust
+betrayed, of growing fury. His moods followed fast one upon another. Now
+sunk in profounder depths of sorrow than any yet sounded, now raging
+with frantic lust for vengeance upon the woman and her lover.
+
+Even while chaotic fancies whirled in his brain he could hear the murmur
+of their talk, ecstatic dalliance which he would interrupt.
+
+Yes, he would disconcert their cooing, cover the pair with humiliation,
+eject the glib intruder and bring the woman to her knees.
+
+But he could not move. He was chained to his chair. A horrible
+fluttering of his heart made him gasp for breath, his head fell back,
+his face and lips were white. The want of food, the nervous depression,
+the rage and exhaustion, all intensified by the sharp and unaccustomed
+fillip of the wine, had done their work. At first it was fainting, then
+came slumber.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+SHE CRIED ALOUD SHE WAS A GUILTY CREATURE.
+
+
+For a moment Mark had yielded to the rapture of the first pure pressure
+of lips he had ever known. From the window he had seen Natalie advancing
+toward the house, and had involuntarily gone to meet her. The sight of
+her had quickened his blood, but if, for an instant, he had reveled in
+the bliss of the welcome she had granted him, almost in the same instant
+he recognized and regretted that he had dishonored her in accepting
+caresses not intended for him.
+
+He drew her somewhat hastily into the drawing-room. Before he could say
+a word she had recognized him.
+
+"Mark," she exclaimed, amazed, and then a rosy blush spread over her
+face.
+
+"I startled you," he said. "It was absurd in me, unpardonable."
+
+"I thought it was----" her voice faltered.
+
+"Leonard, of course. Now welcome me for myself," and he took her hand
+and shook it warmly, after a proper, cousinly fashion, perhaps sadly
+noting the contrast, but striving to shield her embarrassment.
+
+He succeeded, as far as appearances went. But both were conscious of
+emotion, though each strove gallantly to hide it.
+
+"I am so surprised," she faltered. "You must have made a remarkable
+passage. Your mother did not expect you yet. In fact, Paula----"
+
+"I took an earlier steamer than I had originally intended, and had a
+quick passage besides."
+
+"How glad they must have been at Stormpoint!"
+
+"They seemed so. I arrived last night."
+
+"I am sorry Leonard is not home yet. I expected him this morning. He has
+been in New York."
+
+"So the maid told me. Of course, I should not have disturbed you at
+this hour had I been aware of his absence. I rode over, and knowing that
+Leonard is, like myself, an early bird, thought I would say
+good-morning."
+
+"I am very glad you did, Mark."
+
+"Yet, it is always foolish to run outside of conventional grooves. The
+maid told me you were gone for a walk, and so I waited."
+
+"Which was right. I am glad you waited."
+
+Plainly she was uneasy and so, feeling rather foolish, he explained that
+in order to fulfil the duty of breakfasting at Stormpoint he must be
+going. Her suggestion that he remain and breakfast with her was made
+rather faintly. "Good-bye, Natalie," he said. "Remember me to Leonard.
+Next time I shall call in proper form."
+
+And so he rode away, watched a little while by her, who then went to her
+own now belated breakfast. She sat at the table, eating hardly at all,
+seemingly lost in thought. Then she went slowly upstairs to her own
+room.
+
+She sat down upon the bed, suddenly catching her breath, as one stifling
+a sob. Then she twitched her body with an impatient shake, like a
+naughty child. Then she rose quickly and began to rectify or complete
+various small duties, neglected by the maid, who had arranged the
+chamber while she had been out. Ornaments were to be lifted and dusted,
+pillows more carefully smoothed, chairs to be moved an inch forward then
+replaced. Mirrors to be wiped clear of invisible dust, but not, for some
+inscrutable reason, to be looked into; in short, pretended duty must be
+indulged in--a poor pretense, which died away as she sank into a chair
+and, with listless hands lying in her lap, permitted thought to have its
+way.
+
+Had she known him or not? Of course she had not known him. Not even when
+(here she blushed and her lips parted slightly)----She was angry at her
+impetuosity, honestly angry. It was silly, but she had no other reproach
+to make to herself. It had not been her fault, coming from the sunny
+street, that she had not recognized the man who had advanced so eagerly
+to meet her,--the last person she could have expected to see in her own
+house. It would be absurd to feel more than passing annoyance at such a
+contretemps. Only a morbid conscience could find reproach for an
+episode in which there was no fault, which naturally she regretted----
+
+No! She did _not_ regret. Had her heart not fluttered with joy every
+moment since it had happened? Was it true or was it not--she did not
+know, but, alas, she wished it true--that for one brief instant, ere he
+had released her, she had known him and had been happy? Happy! What a
+barren word was "happy."
+
+Her thoughts wandered far--farther than ever before. The secret casket
+in her heart, wherein heretofore they had been hidden, was opened, and
+they rushed forth, to roam in regions forbidden, yet so fair that her
+feeble protests were unheeded; and she smiled upon them, these bright
+children of fancy, wandering with them in the paradise where Love has
+made his home. She closed her eyes and strove to realize again the brief
+ecstasy of an hour ago. She knew--she must have known--in whose arms she
+had been enfolded. She wished it so; it must be so. Again she felt his
+beating heart against her own, his arms once more about her, his breast
+pressed close to hers. "Mark," she whispered, stretching forth her arms
+and pouting lips as one prepares for meeting other lips----
+
+The morning grew old, and she still sat thinking of many things. She
+knew that she loved the man that had left her, with a love that must be
+his, and his only, shared by no other. She had known it as she had that
+morning stood upon the strand, seeing in the fleeting rainbows of the
+spray pictures of a life that might have been, but which could never be.
+She had turned her back upon the vision, well knowing why she turned
+away. She had seen it again in the cemetery and had denied it, bidding
+it begone forever; and she had met it on the threshold of her home, no
+longer a vision, but a fact so rapturous and so mighty that she dared no
+longer deny the truth. She loved him; she had always loved him.
+
+She sat long, dreaming her pleasant dreams, which only slowly merged
+with the facts with which she was environed. Very gradually the full
+import of her thoughts came home to her, but it came surely, disclosing
+an abyss so evil and so deep that she was appalled, and sinking upon
+her knees she cried aloud that she was a guilty creature, and prayed
+fervently and long for aid to be that which she had only that morning
+resolved to be, a faithful wife in thought as in deed.
+
+At last she went downstairs. Entering the library, she discovered her
+husband.
+
+He still slept, the deep sleep of exhaustion. She watched him, noting
+the careworn face, the disheveled dress. To her he looked like a man who
+had passed through a crisis of illness, he was so changed.
+
+And now the regret and penitence for all the wrong she had done him
+pressed upon her as a heavy weight. She was his wife, yet had driven him
+from her side. She was his wife, yet had, within an hour, dreamed her
+dreams of love and happiness in which he had no share.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII.
+
+A GOLDEN BRIDGE ACROSS AN ABYSS OF SHAME.
+
+
+When Leonard awoke to find her bending over him, the anxiety in her eyes
+looked to him like fear. He had no perception of the fact that hours had
+passed since in the meeting in the hall he had seen the same eyes
+dancing with the light of joy, and had heard from the drawing-room the
+fond murmurs of forbidden love. In his first awakening the scene he had
+witnessed and the murmurs he had heard swayed before his eyes and
+sounded still in his ears. Fresh from dalliance with her lover, she
+might well tremble to find her husband here! With this thought
+uppermost, he staggered to his feet.
+
+She started back. He glared upon her with a gaze so furious that she was
+in truth afraid.
+
+For the burden of her guilty dream weighed heavily upon her, justifying
+the hatred in his eyes, a hatred born of the ascription of all his woes
+to her, and while she saw abhorrence, the suffering he had endured was
+no less plainly written in his haggard face, accusing her even as she
+accused herself. Her sins against this man, her husband, the father of
+her dead child, crushed her with the burden of the humiliation born of
+them.
+
+"My husband!" In her self-abasement she sank upon her knees. The action
+was instinctive in her of Gallic training; to Leonard, bred to less
+dramatic display of emotion, it was proof of guilt far deeper than he
+had until now suspected.
+
+"Get up," he said harshly, and taking her by the arm he led her to the
+doorway, pushing her from the room and, with unconscious violence,
+almost throwing her against the opposite wall. He returned to the room
+and rang the bell. His rudeness had given him a sense of mastery in his
+own house, and had dissipated his dread of meeting the servants. He
+asked the maid if breakfast would soon be ready, and was surprised to
+learn that it was long past noon.
+
+Ordering a meal to be prepared he went upstairs, boldly and with
+something not unlike a swagger in the perception that there were sinners
+as bad as he, and having bathed, being clothed in fresh garments, and
+having eaten almost ravenously, he felt, he said to himself, like a new
+man.
+
+Which indeed he was, if new thoughts make a new man. That dreadful load
+of regret for his own misdeeds had been lifted from his shoulders. His
+violence toward his wife had somewhat shocked himself, and while
+attending to his physical needs, he had had time to regret his hasty
+outbreak; and this fact led him to resolve to consider the situation
+calmly and judicially.
+
+To know all is, if the French adage be true, to pardon all, which is
+perhaps the reason why we find it easier to forgive our own sins than
+those of others. We presumably know what motives actuated us in
+evil-doing, and being aware of the strength of the force that drove us,
+we are conscious of the fact that had the incentive to sin been less
+powerful than our rectitude we would not have been guilty. In other
+words, we sin because we can't help sinning, a logical and soothing
+conclusion, converting our wickedness into misfortune and rendering us
+objects of self-commiseration rather than of self-condemnation.
+
+But in that contemplation of the iniquity of others, to which
+circumstances sometimes impel us, and which is always so painful, the
+strength of temptation which we have not personally experienced is less
+obvious, while at the same time the sense of our own rectitude is
+naturally in the ascendant. And as, in such contemplation, our judgment
+is inevitably swayed by our morality in its sternest mood, especially if
+the crimes under consideration have wronged ourselves, our indignation
+is naturally fervent. It is also true that our vision is clarified, our
+memory sharpened, and we recall incidents, now corroborative of guilt,
+though heretofore unremarked, or regarded as innocent.
+
+Leonard recalled so many of such incidents that at last nearly every
+remembered act of his wife assumed a semblance of guilt. There were
+those visits to churches mentioned by Berthe, the woman who truly loved
+him, and who, doubtless, had minimized the truth to spare him, and the
+same habit had been indulged in after marriage. It was not to pray that
+she went to the churches; he remembered that she had herself said so.
+No; it was to dream of the old unhallowed meetings in the hallowed
+precincts. To dream! Why not to meet her lover? During much of their
+sojourn in Paris, Mark had been supposed to be in London--what was a
+passage between London and Paris to Mark? He remembered now that in
+Natalie's bearing toward himself there had always been a vague and
+undescribable something which he could not define, but which he had
+felt. It was easy now to fix the date of the commencement of this
+aloofness (he had found this word for it); it had been during the visit
+in Paris. He recalled a thousand instances with which to torture his
+mind and prove his suspicions true. The aloofness had increased; after
+the birth of the child it had even been noticed by others--and then as a
+blow came the conviction that the inferences she had drawn from his
+belief in hell and her consequent resolve to live a celibate life were
+all pretense, a ghastly role played in obedience to her lover's command.
+
+As this hideous thought took possession of him all semblance of judicial
+summing up was put aside. He laid his head between his hands and wept
+aloud in his great misery. He had loved her; she had been the light of
+his life. He remembered her now (and the vision he recalled was
+strangely clear and vivid) as she had stood at the entrance to the cave
+where dwelt the echo of Forellenbach; she laughing a little at the
+strange American boy who thought wine-drinking an evil; he standing
+within the cave, half shy, half proud, and longing to wake the echoes
+with the pretty name, on that day first heard by him. Yes; he had loved
+her then and always, while she,--and he groaned and his hot tears fell
+fast as he remembered that Berthe had said--Berthe who knew--that his
+wife had never loved him!
+
+The thoughts that racked him were base and unworthy, but he believed
+them. It may be that at the bottom of his heart he wished to believe,
+even while the belief rent him with actual anguish. He needed
+justification for his own sins, and true to his human nature, found it
+where he could. Again, perhaps dim as yet, but only dim because he
+closed his eyes, was the desire to be driven to a step which he had
+hardly dared contemplate, which he had refused to contemplate when it
+had been suggested to him, but toward which now he was making his way as
+certainly as he who, lost in the gloom of some dark forest, makes his
+way toward a rift of light.
+
+He took Mrs. Joe's cheque from his pocket and looked at it. He recalled
+a suggestion of Berthe that they cash it and go to France together. The
+suggestion had startled, yet had fascinated him. He had put it aside.
+Now its fascination returned with tenfold power--to put the ocean
+between him and the past; to be a denizen of that land where man can be
+free; to be one of those who, being damned, refuse to accept misery in
+this life as well--he had recognized it then as a picture painted by the
+devil; it now assumed a worthier aspect. There would be boldness in such
+a step, a certain picturesqueness as well, and a dramatic ending to the
+play in which he had enacted the role of dupe. The curtain would be rung
+down upon a scene not contemplated by the authors of the drama--a scene
+in which he alone would retain some dignity, to the discomfiture of
+those whose puppet he had been.
+
+No thought of financial dishonesty was in his mind. The peculiar
+fascination in the cheque was the facility it afforded for complete and
+sudden rupture of every tie. He could secure the maker of the cheque
+against loss; that could be done at his leisure; meanwhile, there it
+lay, a golden bridge for passage across an abyss of shame, beyond which
+lay a region of beauty and content.
+
+Yet even while he mused, finding a balm for wounded pride and love
+betrayed in visions, of which the central figure was the woman who had
+parted from him in despair, and whose pleading eyes even now besought
+him, while his own lonely heart called out to her--even now, when
+despair on the one hand, and passion on the other, strove for mastery,
+even now he turned from the devil's beckoning finger, resolving to be
+just.
+
+Yes; the accused should have a hearing. He would confront his wife and
+demand an explanation of that meeting in the hall. She was probably
+aware that he had witnessed it, for she had crouched in fear before him
+when she had unexpectedly found him in the library. If she had not known
+of his presence he would inform her and warily watch her, and carefully
+weigh whatever she had to offer in explanation. He would not be
+deceived, but she should meet the accusation face to face, himself
+accuser, judge and witness.
+
+He looked at his watch. It was after nine o'clock. Natalie could hardly
+be in bed. He would see her now in her own room, away from the chance of
+eavesdropping servants.
+
+He prepared to put his intention into effect and was already in the
+hall, when a maid handed him a sealed note.
+
+He read the letter. It commenced abruptly, without address:
+
+     "Your violence has so agitated me that it has only been after a
+     long struggle that I have brought myself to write you. But I
+     persuade myself, as indeed I must, that you were unconscious of
+     your harshness. I will not, therefore, offer you my forgiveness
+     for an offense which was unintentional. But I think it better
+     that we do not meet immediately. I am the more urgent in this
+     because I wish your spirit to be soothed and your anger against
+     me to be mitigated, so that you shall hear me calmly. For, I
+     have much to say to you--a sad confession to make which may be
+     even harder for you to bear than the sorrow you have already
+     borne. But I have hope that if you will hear it calmly you will
+     recognize that if I did not love you I could not open my heart
+     to you, as I shall do. My husband, I have not been that which I
+     so long to be in future, a true wife to you. But I know, for I
+     know your goodness of heart, that when you have heard all you
+     will pardon all, and that our future shall be cloudless; that
+     your love shall help me to be that which I have failed in
+     being--your faithful wife."
+
+No need now, having read this confession, to consider his future course.
+It was fixed. He looked at his watch. The train left at midnight. He
+would write the necessary answer to the letter at once.
+
+He wrote swiftly and without pause. His brain had never been clearer,
+his heart never lighter.
+
+A few minutes before midnight he quietly left the house. When he had
+crossed the street to the Square he looked back at the only home he had
+ever known. For good or for evil he was about to leave it, never to
+return the husband of the woman who watched in the dimly lighted
+chamber. A sob shook him as he turned from the light toward the
+darkness.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+
+THE RUINS OF HER AIR-CASTLE LAY AROUND HER.
+
+
+Father Cameril laid down the "Life of St. Dunstan" and sighed. "He was
+strong, he was faithful," muttered the good Father. "Alas!" and he
+sighed again.
+
+He took a photograph from his pocket and gazed long upon the pictured
+features. "Dr. Hicks did it," he murmured. Then he replaced the
+photograph and went forth, going toward the sea, until at last, by many
+a devious way, he came into the grounds of Stormpoint, and there, by
+Eliphalet's Tomb, he saw a woman. "'Tis fate," he muttered. The woman
+turned; Father Cameril started. He was face to face with Natalie.
+
+He stammered awkwardly, being wholly taken by surprise, that he had
+thought she was Miss Lynford; then, after some conventional references
+to the weather, he escaped. Natalie watched him as he walked away, then
+fell into bitter musings, in which he had no part.
+
+Two years had passed since Leonard's flight. With the fall of her hero,
+the light of the life of Miss Claghorn had been extinguished, and
+though, with grim courage, she had striven to bear the heavy hand of the
+Lord, laid thus upon the House of Claghorn, the knowledge that another
+of the race, the brightest and the best, was doomed, was too heavy a
+burden. Other Claghorns would be born and would live their little day,
+but for whom could hope be cherished after such a fall as this? She
+passed from life sure of her own salvation, but with the knowledge that
+the elect race was no more to be reckoned as of the favored minority.
+She refused to leave any message for Leonard; since the Lord had closed
+the gates of glory upon him, it was for her to close her heart. She
+charged her estate with a liberal annuity for Tabitha Cone, leaving her
+fortune, otherwise unincumbered, to Natalie, who, with Tabitha,
+continued to reside at the White House.
+
+A further untoward result of the catastrophe was the derangement of the
+political plans of Mrs. Joe. The use of her cheque, given to Leonard, as
+trustee, his unfulfilled promise of a large donation from an anonymous
+lady (who could be no other than the lady of Stormpoint), his curt
+resignation sent to the Seminary authorities from New York, the
+separation from his wife, her seclusion, the crushing grief of Miss
+Claghorn, the perturbation of Mrs. Joe, shared by Mark--these were all
+parts of a puzzle eagerly put together, and so far successfully, that
+the fact of the misuse of the cheque was established, at least to the
+satisfaction of the multitude. And this involved an explanation from
+Mrs. Joe, and the making known of her change of mind in respect of the
+donation, which again involved some reflection upon the god and the
+Confession revered by the Seminary, wherefrom was emitted a spark of
+resentment, not allayed by Mark's openly expressed indignation with
+those who professed to discover something parlous with regard to the
+change of mind of his mother, in respect to the once-intended bounty.
+The upshot of all this confusion was the lassitude, not to say, disgust,
+evinced by Mark for the political prospects held out by Hampton, and
+Mrs. Joe's recognition of the need of acting upon the shrewd advice of
+Mr. Hacket, which was to "lie low till the pot stopped boiling," a
+consummation not fervently hoped for by the adviser.
+
+With eyes fixed upon where the sun, a fiery ball, fast sank in the
+distant waters, Natalie, standing where Father Cameril had left her,
+recalled the days of her girlhood and their dreams. Her life, short as
+it had been as yet, had been full of trouble. Were all lives thus? Her
+glance fell upon the tomb; she wondered if the man at rest these two
+centuries and more had in death resolved the deep mystery of living; or
+was he, in fact, not yet at rest, but wandering still in other spheres,
+the toy of a destiny he could neither shape nor fathom? She recalled the
+day upon which she had seen the handsome American boy in the Odenwald,
+and she thought of the ruin of his life with unutterable sadness. She
+remembered how she had prattled with her father as the two dusty
+travelers had entered the garden, and she recalled her bright visions
+of the days to come. The days were here! The crumbling ruins of her
+air-castles lay about her, and in the great upheaval that had caused
+their fall a life had been wrecked. She looked out upon the waters,
+hearing the ceaseless moan of the surge, and remembered how the kindly
+fury of the waves had striven to rescue that life from shame and
+degradation. Better, ah! how much better, had Leonard never returned
+from that desperate plunge, but had gone a hero to whatever lay beyond!
+
+She remembered the day--it was not a day to be forgotten--that she had
+taken the early walk to the cemetery; and how, as she had then looked
+out upon the waves, a truth that during all the days of her wedded life
+had lain at the bottom of her heart, had confronted her unbidden,
+demanding recognition. She had refused to see it, until in the awakening
+that had come to her in the cemetery she had, with high resolve,
+determined to defy it and make of it a lie--and within an hour had
+forgotten her resolution, and had dreamed her dreams which had their
+birth in the pressure of lips to which she had no right. On the morrow
+of that darkest day of her life she had found her husband's letter to
+herself, a letter whose words were burned in upon her memory: "Natalie,
+in your heart you never loved me." He had added more, the justification
+of the wretched confession, now defiant, now maudlin, which followed;
+much of it sadly false; but she remembered it all, and the true text of
+his miserable story stood out before her as though lettered in the air.
+The words condemned her. It was not true, and she made a gesture as
+though repelling an accusation--it was not true that in the truth of
+Leonard's words lay the underlying motive of the course of life she had
+resolved upon. She denied this in her thoughts with almost frantic
+vehemence; yet, urgent in her wish to find palliation for her husband's
+sin, and seeing with clear vision the folly of the frightful dogma which
+she now knew that in very truth he could not have believed, but which,
+if believed, must of her own wrong have made a virtue, she grew
+confused, and could find but one utterance to express the truth--"I have
+sinned."
+
+She drew from the bosom of her dress a letter which she had received
+but a few hours before. It was from Leonard, written from New York, and
+repeating that accusation which she confessed as true. In the letter the
+writer expressed his surprise that he had not found, on his return to
+America, that she had taken steps to rid herself of ties which must be
+hateful to her. This, he claimed, was an added injury to him, since it
+prevented the course which his conscience required, and which he was in
+honor bound to take for the sake of one who had loved him sufficiently
+to sacrifice herself for him (meaning, though Natalie was ignorant of
+the fact, Mademoiselle Berthe). He had added that if, within a given
+time, his wife did not avail herself of the legal right to secure her
+freedom, he would, actuated by the high considerations suggested, be
+compelled to take measures to satisfy his conscience and his sense of
+honor. And he concluded the epistle by setting forth with sufficient
+distinctness the fact, that the law would recognize the validity of the
+grounds on which he would, if it became necessary, base his application
+for divorce.
+
+Heretofore she had resented the urgency of every friend (except one who
+refrained from advice) to take the step to which she saw now she would
+be driven. Mark alone had been silent, and her heart had often
+fluttered, knowing his reason. But she had not dwelt upon a thought upon
+which she knew she must not linger; rather had she prayed that Leonard
+might return, and she be enabled to carry out the resolve she had so
+often made, and in which she had so often failed, to be in all things a
+true wife; thus earning the forgiveness which she craved by according
+that which was due from her. Perhaps she had persuaded herself that such
+a course would be possible--even so--she knew that in the letter she
+held in her hand, she saw not the insult to herself, not the base
+attitude of its writer, but the dawning of another day, and the promise
+of a happiness which hitherto she had not dared contemplate, and which
+she tried hard not to contemplate now.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX.
+
+VOIDABLE VOWS OF TURKS (AND OTHERS).
+
+
+When Father Cameril had found Natalie at Eliphalet's tomb, expecting to
+find Paula, he had received a greater shock than the incident would seem
+to have required.
+
+He had said to himself it was Fate; but had found that it was not fate
+that determined a step which he desired to be compelled to take.
+
+That vow of celibacy had been made in ignorance. He was sure, having
+examined the authorities closely as to this, that a vow taken in
+ignorance was not binding. Turks were in the habit of vowing enmity to
+the truth, yet could a Turk do a more praiseworthy deed than break such
+a vow? He had supposed that celibacy was a good things for priests. He
+had been wrong. It was a very bad thing. Ought he to continue a wrong
+course in deference to a vow taken under a misconception? The underlying
+motive of the vow was the desire to live worthily; since life lived in
+accordance therewith would be passed less worthily than in opposition to
+it, the only honest course was to disregard the vow. So argued Father
+Cameril, unaided by fate, and hence, compelled to fall back on logic.
+
+But fate was to be more propitious than he had feared. Seated on a rock
+in a distant portion of the grounds, gazing out upon the setting sun, he
+came upon Paula.
+
+He took the hand she offered and which, as had lately been the case,
+lingered a little within his own. Then he sat down beside her.
+
+"How beautiful it is," she observed.
+
+"Paula," he said, "I love you. Will you be my wife?"
+
+"Oh!" exclaimed Paula.
+
+Perhaps it was not very reassuring. But it was not a refusal. Her face
+was rosier than he had ever seen it. Her heart was beating wildly.
+
+"I wanted to be a nun," she faltered.
+
+"I know it," he replied; "and I----"
+
+"Vowed celibacy."
+
+"It is true," he admitted.
+
+And then they sat and looked at where the sun had been.
+
+After awhile Paula arose and said she must go to the house.
+
+He offered his hand.
+
+"May I kiss you?" he said, in a low tone, his face very pale.
+
+"Father Cameril!"
+
+He hung his head. "You despise me," he said, after awhile. "You are
+right. I despise myself. It is very hard."
+
+"I don't despise you; and you are not to despise yourself," she
+stammered. "You perplex and confuse me. You astonish me."
+
+"I knew I would," he answered hopelessly. "It is very natural. I wish I
+had not been born."
+
+"I beg you not to say dreadful things, not to have dreadful thoughts,"
+she exclaimed.
+
+"But I can't help them. If you knew how awful they are sometimes. Dr.
+Hicks did it, Paula."
+
+"Don't let us talk of it."
+
+"Let us think about it."
+
+"I couldn't."
+
+"Don't you love me?"
+
+"I love everybody. You, and everybody."
+
+"Yes, you are a saint. I am not. I only love you. I only think of you.
+Morning, noon and night. At Mass; everywhere----"
+
+"Do you, really?" she interrupted.
+
+"I do, really."
+
+She looked at him curiously. It was very nice, indeed, to know that a
+good man was in the habit of thinking of her so continuously. But----
+
+"You should not think of me in church," she said.
+
+"Of course not. I wouldn't if you were my wife. As it is, you creep into
+all my thoughts. You are in the prayer-book, in the Bible, in the Life
+of St. Dunstan, and of St. Thomas (of Canterbury), too. You are
+everywhere."
+
+"Oh!" said Paula again. This was love indeed.
+
+"But your vow?"
+
+"I can explain that. Vowing under a misconception is not binding. That
+was the way I vowed."
+
+"On purpose?" she asked, horrified.
+
+"Oh, no. I thought I was doing right."
+
+"Perhaps you were," she said. "If you were, this must be wrong."
+
+"I have examined my own heart closely, very closely."
+
+"Have you been to confession?"
+
+"To whom can I go? The Bishop would not hear me. He is benighted----"
+
+"There's your friend, Father Gordon."
+
+"Oh, Paula, he's only twenty-three."
+
+"But he's a priest."
+
+"But _he's_ under a vow. How can he understand?"
+
+A rapid footstep was heard. "There's Mark!" exclaimed Paula.
+
+Father Cameril tripped quickly away. "You here!" exclaimed Mark, as he
+came upon Paula. "Isn't it dinner time?"
+
+"It must be," she said, slipping her hand into the arm he offered.
+
+"It was Father Cameril, Mark," she said, after a pause.
+
+"Of course," he replied.
+
+"Why, of course?" she asked, with slow utterance.
+
+He looked down into her face a little quizzically. "Is it not of
+course?" he asked.
+
+"I--don't--think so," she answered slowly.
+
+"Paula!" He stood confronting her suddenly.
+
+"Well, Mark?"
+
+He laughed, yet looked at her rather seriously. "I thought you were
+going to be a nun?"
+
+"I am; do you object?"
+
+"I shall be sorry to see it. But----"
+
+"But what?"
+
+"There are other things I would regret more."
+
+She looked into his face. It was a quick, questioning glance, but long
+enough for him to note her beauty. They went on to the house in silence,
+but Paula's heart fluttered.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XL.
+
+HER FACE WAS THE MIRROR OF HER PLEASANT DREAMS.
+
+
+In Hampton Cemetery there stands, and will stand for the sympathetic
+admiration of future ages, an imposing monument, which apprises him who
+meditates among the tombs that it was "Erected to the Memory of Jeremiah
+Morley, by his Sorrowing Widow." At the date of the construction of this
+expensive evidence of grief, the cost whereof had been provided by
+testamentary direction--for the late Jeremiah had not been the man to
+stake a testimonial to his worth upon anything less binding--the
+stone-cutter, as one versed in the prevailing fashion of monumental
+inscriptions, had suggested the conventional reference to the usual
+"Hope of a Joyful Resurrection"; but the widow, her conscience already
+strained by the legend agreed upon, had objected. Yet the inscription
+which strained her conscience had the merit of truth; for the man
+beneath the stone had left her sorrowing, as she had sorrowed nearly
+every day since she had been pronounced his wife; but, being strictly
+Hamptonian in her views, her long intimacy with the deceased had
+rendered her incredulous of his joyous resurrection.
+
+Years before the erection of the monument, while Easthampton was still a
+port known to mariners, the warehouses since pulled down by Mrs. Joe
+having hardly commenced to rot, a certain Jerry Morley who, so far as he
+or anybody else knew, had no legitimate right to name or existence, had
+sailed from the harbor in the capacity of third mate of the barque
+"Griselda," a trim vessel manned by a crew of blackguards, not one of
+whom could approach the mate either in hardihood or in villainy. At that
+time Mate Jerry had been scarcely more than a boy, ragged, unkempt and
+fierce-eyed; when he returned, which he did by stage (for the barque had
+disappeared from the ken of man), he was a smooth-shaven, portly
+gentleman, hard and domineering; but strict in his walk (to all
+appearance), and rich. The voice of detraction is never absolutely
+silent, and though Mr. Morley possessed all the ingredients which go to
+the making of a "Prominent Citizen," and played that role successfully
+for many years; yet occasional whispers were heard as to mutiny, murder,
+seizure of the "Griselda," and a subsequent career as a slaver;
+whispers, confined mostly to the ancient mariners who smoked and basked
+about the decaying docks of Easthampton, and which, in due time, were
+heard no more. Mr. Morley purchased a fine residence in Hampton, was
+munificent to the Seminary, married the fair daughter of a prominent
+theologian, and, in short, appeared to the eyes of the world as a clean,
+pompous, very wealthy and highly respected citizen and church member.
+Few beside his wife knew that, in fact, he was a brute, given over to
+secret vices. He had possessed a brain incapable of either excitation or
+ache. Never sober, no man had ever seen him (to the observer's
+knowledge) drunk. Few suspected his secret indulgence, but at the age of
+sixty, liquor, aided by other sly excesses known only to himself, struck
+him down, as a bullet might have done, relieving a once rarely beautiful
+woman of a great load, and granting her a few years of comfort as a
+set-off against many years of hidden misery.
+
+From this grandfather Leonard had inherited more than one unsuspected
+trait, but not the iron constitution which had succumbed only after
+years of abuse. Berthe still had her adorable one, but her adoration was
+gone; her man had become an object of compassionate disgust. The
+brilliant theologian was a sot.
+
+His fall had been from so great a height to so low a depth, that in his
+own eyes his ruin was accomplished before his case was hopeless. He was
+not hurried to his doom by late awakened appetites alone; he had hardly
+abandoned his home before regret, if not repentance, became a burden too
+heavy for endurance. The mournful echoes of his days of virtue, the
+visions of his past of honor, were ever in his ears and before his eyes.
+Remorse, the hell of sinners, was ever present; and from its constant
+pangs was no relief except in plunging deeper into sin, inviting
+greater horrors, and ever beckoned by them. To such miseries were added
+the fear of that unending life beyond the grave; the life of torment,
+which all his days he had been taught to contemplate as the doom of
+souls abandoned by their Maker. The knowledge that he was one of those
+"passed by" and left for the fires of hell--this knowledge hourly
+increased the anguish of his spirit. Who among men shall too hardly
+judge a ruined fellow-creature, abandoned by his God, who in debauchery
+can find forgetfulness; or who, in the hazy mists of drunkenness alone,
+can see some rays to cheer the gloom of ruin?
+
+They had at first gone to Paris, and there he had plunged into
+dissipation with an ardor that had startled and angered his companion,
+whose good sense had been revolted. True, she had shown him the way,
+recognizing his need of distraction; but she had not counted on reckless
+excess, and had at first welcomed the change when he showed a
+disposition to concentrate his attention upon liquor alone. She was to
+learn that this slavery was the most debasing of all.
+
+The woman had loved her victim in her own way, and for awhile she
+honestly strove to raise him from the foul abyss in which he seemed
+doomed to settle, but her efforts had been vain. She had long been
+possessed of the common purse, and though her prudence had husbanded the
+proceeds of Mrs. Joe's cheque, she saw the necessity of reasonable
+economy; so she got her man to London, where he, by this time, exhausted
+from dissipation, was content to live frugally, so long as his decanter
+of gin was kept supplied. The woman often gazed furtively at him, and
+was troubled. She commenced to consider the future. "Leonard," she said
+one day, "you ought to marry me."
+
+He was neither startled nor repelled. "It would be the first step in the
+right direction," he answered. "Perhaps then I could overcome the
+craving for drink." She was touched by the hope which for one moment
+gleamed in his dull eyes. It aroused an answering hope in her bosom. Ah!
+If it could be! If she could become his lawful wife, an honest woman;
+and he the man he had been before she had led him to ruin! The passing
+vision of purer days lured both.
+
+A nobler desire than mere acquisitiveness was awakened in her. She knew
+that probably no such marriage would be legal; it might even be
+dangerous. But, it would bind him to her so that there could be no
+escape. And so the matter came to be discussed between the two. Both
+were aware of the possible criminality of the act, though both hoped
+that Leonard's wife had procured a divorce; but, notwithstanding some
+misgiving, the marriage was finally accomplished. Berthe had her own
+reasons for not waiting until they could revisit America; and perhaps in
+the loneliness of his wrecked life, Leonard's object was like the
+woman's, to bind her to himself with hooks of steel. Perhaps it was but
+the result of influence of a stronger will upon a fast decaying mind.
+
+Thus it had come about that the two had returned to America, and, on
+their arrival, had concocted the letter to Natalie, by whom it had been
+submitted to Mr. Ellis Winter. That gentleman advised that Natalie take
+up her residence in New York, and he engaged to notify Leonard that his
+demand for divorce would be accorded, as soon as the needful legal
+requisites could be complied with. Natalie was to make her application
+on the ground of abandonment, and to refuse to ask for alimony.
+
+And now, alone with Tabitha in a big hotel, without occupation, except
+such as was afforded by recollections which could not be other than
+bitter; in the gloom of the days and the miserable object of her present
+existence, Natalie allowed herself to see the rays of hope illumining a
+future upon which she looked, shyly, and with a sense of guilt. Yet who
+would not contemplate the alluring tint of fruit as yet forbidden, but
+ripening for us before our eyes?
+
+During this period of isolation she saw Mark once, his visit having the
+ostensible excuse of business. Leonard had, by the hand of his legal
+adviser, written to Mrs. Joe, suggesting that she purchase the Morley
+mansion, so that out of the proceeds of the sale he could repay his
+debt. While the lady would have been as well content that the debt
+remain unpaid, it was believed by all who still hoped that Leonard might
+be won back to respectability, that the suggestion was a good one. To
+carry it into effect the consent of Natalie was, of course, necessary,
+and also that the transfer be effected before the institution of divorce
+proceedings. The consent was immediately given.
+
+"And, Mark," said Natalie, as she handed him the deed, "if you see
+Leonard, say to him that I hope for his forgiveness."
+
+"His forgiveness!"
+
+"Ah, Mark! I wronged him; I ought never----"
+
+He knew what was on her lips, but which she could not say to him--that
+she ought never to have married Leonard. He took her hand and drew her,
+unresisting, toward himself; her head drooped upon his shoulder. They
+stood thus, for a moment, and then he left her. Words of love remained
+unspoken, but the heart of each was full of that which was unsaid.
+
+There was a long and dreary interval, but at length came the day when
+Natalie was made free. She learned the fact in the afternoon, but
+concealed it from Tabitha. That evening she was melancholy, and Tabitha
+essayed in vain to cheer her; and so the next day passed. But the day
+after that Tabitha noticed a change; a tremulous fluttering, some
+tendency to tears, but more to smiles. And Tabitha discovered that she
+was being petted. She must have a drive--and had it; special delicacies
+at luncheon were ordered for her delectation, including a share of a
+pint of champagne, which Tabitha averred was sinful, though she sinned
+with satisfaction. A beautiful gold watch was given her to replace the
+fat-faced silver bulb, precious in Miss Cone's eyes as once the property
+of the long-drowned mariner, but which of late years had acquired the
+eccentric characteristics of the famous time-piece of the elder Weller;
+and at last when the time came to say "good-night," Tabitha must be
+kissed and hugged. But the last proceeding was too much for the maiden's
+discretion. "What is it?" she asked.
+
+"Oh, Tabby, I'm so happy." And then, ashamed, and afraid of having said
+too much, Natalie escaped to her own room.
+
+And there read again the letter which she had received that morning, and
+which she had furtively read many times during the day. She knew it by
+heart, but she liked to read the words written by her lover's hand.
+
+     "Dear Natalie--The decree is granted. The words, 'I love you'
+     have been on my lips so long, that they must find utterance. I
+     repeat them, if not with lips, yet in my heart every moment of
+     the day. Write or telegraph me the date of your arrival at the
+     White House. I would rather have a letter; in a letter you can
+     say that you love me. Shall it be a letter?
+
+     "MARK."
+
+To this she had answered by telegraph: "I write to-night." He was in
+Philadelphia, and until the evening of the following day she would be
+unable to leave for home. He would receive her letter in time to get to
+Stormpoint soon after her arrival in Easthampton. He desired a letter;
+he should have a letter.
+
+Yet it was hard to write. It had been easy to whisper to herself such
+phrases as "Mark, dear Mark, I love you, I love you"; but it was less
+easy to set those words down on paper, though there was a joy in it,
+too. The difficulty of writing them vanished when they were for her own
+eye only, not to be mailed. And so she scribbled over sheet after sheet
+of paper: "Mark, Dear Mark, My Love, My Own, My Lover"--such words and
+many others she wrote, blushing, smiling; at times not seeing what she
+wrote for the tears in her eyes. At last she roused herself from this
+foolish play and wrote a proper letter.
+
+     "Dear Mark--How good you have always been! I shall arrive home
+     on Saturday morning. I long to see you. Dear Mark, I love you."
+
+The last phrase was hurriedly written and had required resolution, but
+she was happier for having written it. She sealed the letter that she
+might not be tempted in the morning to substitute another. Then she went
+to bed, and all the night through her face was the mirror of her
+pleasant dreams. No shadow of the future was upon her as she slept
+smiling.
+
+And awoke with the smile upon her face, and in a low voice sang while
+dressing. Her toilet concluded, she took her letter from the table,
+kissed it shyly, and placed it in her bosom. She would mail it as she
+went downstairs.
+
+A knock at her door and the announcement of a visitor--a lady who had
+business of importance. Natalie ordered that the lady be shown into her
+sitting-room.
+
+On entering the sitting-room she found Berthe.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLI.
+
+HER GUILTY CONSCIENCE CRIED: "BEHOLD YOUR HANDIWORK."
+
+
+Natalie saw all things through the halo of the rosy hopes that now
+encompassed her. "Berthe!" she exclaimed, both hands extended in
+welcome, "I thought you had gone to France. Mrs. Leon told me so--but,
+how is this? You look pale and ill?"
+
+Pale and ill she was, but no illness would have deterred her from making
+the appeal she had come to make.
+
+Since his return to America, Leonard had indulged in drink more
+recklessly than ever, and Berthe, though conscious of the value to
+herself of the divorce, had dreaded the granting of the decree. For the
+prospect of being bound to this lost creature filled her with aversion.
+
+Conscience makes cowards of us all, and Berthe feared the man. Not that
+he had shown any inclination for violence toward her, though he had long
+been irritable and disposed to quarrel on slight provocation. She did
+not fear his hand; it was his presence. The sodden spectacle was
+becoming a weight upon her soul, an accusation beyond her strength to
+bear. She had loved him, loved him even now, and her guilty conscience
+cried incessantly, "Behold your handiwork!"
+
+On the day when Natalie had petted Tabitha, she had for the first time
+lived in fear, even of his hand. Early that morning she had noticed that
+his speech was tremulous and uncertain, though he drank less than usual.
+He dozed constantly, often waking with a cry of terror; and then his
+whole frame would tremble as he gazed with eyes of hate and horror at
+herself, or at some invisible yet dreadful object near her, muttering
+incoherent phrases indicating fear. Again he would doze, again awake and
+the scene would be repeated. With each new seizure his action became
+more violent, while the nameless horror that was upon him communicated
+itself to her. At last she sent for a physician, but not until there had
+been a wild outbreak. He had clutched her by the throat: "Devil!" he
+shouted, "you shall not take me to hell; I am of the elect, a Claghorn!
+Down, fiend!" She had cowered in fear, and he had saved her life by
+fainting.
+
+The doctor easily diagnosed the case. Berthe's willingness to pay for
+the services of two male nurses, and the fear that any disturbance might
+entail a frantic outbreak and death, were the considerations that
+restrained the physician from ordering the patient's removal to a
+hospital.
+
+The convulsions of the stricken man were frightful; his shrieks, his
+wailing prayers for deliverance from hell--these appalled the woman,
+filling her with apprehension akin to that of the raving victim. His
+calls for Natalie were most piteous, wails of anguish that pierced the
+heart of the woman that had loved him, and whose moans answered his
+incessant repetition of the name of one, lacking whose forgiveness he
+must face the horrors of the damned. The unending utterance of the name,
+never ceasing even when at last he sank into the stupor of exhaustion
+and of opiates, attracted the attention of the physician, who told
+Berthe that while he believed the case hopeless, possible good might be
+effected by the presence of the person without whom it seemed as though
+the man could not even die.
+
+The awful fear that he would die, his last wish ungratified, wherefore,
+in her belief, his restless soul would haunt all her future days; this,
+added to the pity for the man she still loved, who had rescued her from
+misery, whose head had lain upon her bosom, nerved her to carry out the
+resolve she had taken. She knew that no messenger could effect the
+purpose; she must assume the task herself. It was not without a pang
+that she determined upon a mission which, if successful, must involve
+her desertion of the dying man; but, though she did not forget such
+jewels as she possessed or to collect all the money that remained, her
+flight was nevertheless intended as such expiation as she could make.
+
+She hoped, though she could not be sure, that her identity as Leonard's
+companion was not known to Natalie; but she assumed that Mrs. Leon had
+given information as to other misconduct, and she expected to be met
+with cold disapproval, if, indeed, she were received at all. But instead
+of disapproval she was encountered with outstretched hands and their
+friendly pressure; and, as with this reception there came upon her the
+recollection of the sweet graciousness of her former mistress, and with
+it the consciousness of her requital of the kindness of past days, her
+heart was like to fail.
+
+"I bring you a message," she gasped, "from your husband."
+
+"My husband!" For the moment Natalie forgot that she had no husband.
+Then the recollection came upon her, and with it a premonition of evil.
+She was as pale as Berthe, as she stood, looking at her visitor,
+bewildered and afraid.
+
+"Stop!" she exclaimed, as Berthe was about to speak. "What can you know
+of him you call my husband? He left me, abandoned me for a wicked woman.
+He wrote me confessing his shame, but not his fault. Again he wrote,
+insinuating wicked deeds of me, and threatening me. Since two days he is
+no more my husband; I can receive no message."
+
+"He is dying!"
+
+The red flush which had displaced the pallor of Natalie's cheek
+disappeared. Again her face grew pale; she stared at Berthe.
+
+"Listen," faltered the Frenchwoman. "He wronged you, yet he loved you
+always, has loved you till this hour, and cannot die without your
+forgiveness."
+
+"Take it to him----Dying! Leonard, Leonard!" She covered her face.
+
+"I was maid to the woman he went away with," continued Berthe, "and so I
+came to know his story. The woman has been kind to him--let her pass,
+then"--seeing that her listener shuddered. "The man is dying. He moans
+and wails for you--for you. The woman herself begged me to come for you.
+He fears" (her face grew whiter) "he fears the fires of hell, but he
+will not have a priest. Only you can rescue him--your pardon--he cannot
+die without it." She broke down. All else she might have borne upon her
+conscience; but she could not bear that he should go unshriven.
+
+At the mention of the fires of hell Natalie was conquered. "Take me to
+him," she said.
+
+"Follow me in half an hour," Berthe rose as she spoke, handing a written
+address to Natalie.
+
+"But no time must be lost----"
+
+"In half an hour," repeated Berthe. "Give her--the woman--time to get
+away." And then she passed out of the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLII.
+
+"I WILL NEVER LEAVE HIM, SO HELP ME GOD IN HEAVEN."
+
+
+"Natalie." He stirred uneasily, muttering the word, which since her
+coming he had not uttered; then, as she lightly pressed the hand she
+held, he slept again. So she had sat for hours beside his bed.
+
+The physician had prepared her for the sight that had met her eyes. From
+Tabitha, who was with her, he had gleaned some knowledge of the facts.
+Tabitha, still ignorant of the granting of the decree, had assured him
+that the visitor was the wife of Leonard Claghorn.
+
+"Poor woman, she will need her courage," he said. "The other one has
+gone. As for the wife, if she can bear it, I would have her sit beside
+him so that he can see her when he wakes."
+
+So there she had taken her place, beside the man whom the law had
+decreed was no more to her than any other. But death mocks law. Dying,
+he was so much to her that no hand but hers should smooth his pillow.
+
+Perhaps the nature of the disease, perhaps the deep exhaustion, had made
+a great change in his appearance. The bloated aspect of his face was
+gone, and even a greater beauty than the beauty of his youth and
+innocence was apparent. But it was the beauty of ruin. The face was
+marble, yet lined with the deep furrows of sorrow and remorse. The hair
+was gray at the temples, the cheeks were hollow and the mouth was drawn.
+It was Leonard, the man whose head had lain upon her bosom, the father
+of her child--the same, yet oh, how changed!
+
+"Natalie!"
+
+She bent toward him. He essayed to lift her hand to his lips; she placed
+it on his brow.
+
+"I have had a dream," he whispered, "a dreadful dream!"
+
+"Hush, Leonard. You must sleep."
+
+He feebly raised his arm and tried to draw her to him. Slowly she bent
+toward him, falling on her knees beside the bed. His arm was now about
+her neck; he drew her cheek to his.
+
+"My wife!" He uttered the words with a long-drawn sigh, of such sweet
+content that in that sigh she believed he had breathed his life out.
+Soon he spoke again. "Now I can sleep," he said, and freed her from his
+embrace. She rose gently and stood watching him; he slept without the
+stertorous breathing of before. Looking up, she saw the physician in the
+doorway. He beckoned to her. She rose and quietly left the room.
+
+"Madam," said the doctor, "this is wonderful. That natural sleep may
+portend recovery."
+
+"Then I can go," she said.
+
+The doctor looked at her gravely, not approvingly. But it was not as he
+supposed; she was not hard-hearted; but the woman! Leonard had written
+that his conscience and his honor demanded that he marry the woman. If
+he were to live, there was no place at his bedside for her, who had once
+been his wife.
+
+"Mrs. Claghorn," said the doctor, "your companion, Miss--ah--Miss Cone,
+has informed me of the existing relations between you and your husband.
+As a stranger I can give no advice, can only tell you that the woman who
+has been his companion has left your husband forever."
+
+"Left him to die!" she exclaimed.
+
+"Precisely. It need not surprise you. It is barbarous; but such women
+are barbarous. I shall be surprised if one who has displayed so much
+magnanimity should fail now. Pardon me, Mrs. Claghorn, but your place is
+by your husband's side. One woman has basely left him to die. Should you
+leave him now, you repeat the act."
+
+The doctor silently withdrew. Natalie sank into a chair. Her mind was
+confused. Her place by her husband's side! Had she then a husband? The
+scenes in which she had been an actor had numbed her faculties, strained
+by the long watch by the bedside she had left. A feeling of suffocation
+was stealing over her; instinctively she loosened her dress at the
+throat. The letter she had written to Mark fell upon the floor, and she
+sat staring at it, dumb.
+
+It became evident that her husband, as all in the house believed him to
+be, would live. Over and over again the doctor congratulated her on the
+wonderful influence of her presence upon the sick man. Naturally, he was
+glad to have rescued a patient from the very jaws of death; and though,
+since he had learned more of her history from Tabitha Cone, he had
+slight sympathy for the man, yet he believed that even under the
+untoward circumstances existing, forgiveness and reconciliation was the
+course which promised most for future happiness.
+
+"It is the best thing for her," he said to Tabitha. "She will withdraw
+the divorce proceedings and forgive him. She can never be happy unless
+she does."
+
+Tabitha, though sure that she herself would never have forgiven her
+mariner under similar circumstances, which, however, she admitted were
+unthinkable in that connection, agreed with the physician.
+
+"He will be long in getting well," said the physician; "if, indeed, he
+ever recovers completely. If he has the heart of a man he must
+appreciate what she has done for him; literally brought him back to
+life."
+
+"He was a good man, once," observed Tabitha, her eyes filling. "Oh,
+Doctor! The most beautiful, the sweetest; the most frank and loving
+boy----"
+
+"And a brilliant theologian, you tell me. Well, well, Miss Cone, in my
+profession we learn charity. It is astounding what an evil influence
+some women can gain over men. And this one was not even beautiful."
+
+"The hussy!"
+
+"Quite so. Ah, Miss Cone, our sex must ever be on guard," and the doctor
+laughed a little. He was feeling triumphant over the recovery of his
+patient.
+
+Yet in watching that recovery his face was often very grave. Natalie was
+sharp-eyed. "Is your patient getting well?" she asked.
+
+"He improves hourly," was the answer, but the tone was not cheerful. He
+looked at Natalie anxiously.
+
+"Physically, yes. His mind, Doctor?"
+
+"His mental faculties are failing fast."
+
+"How long has this been going on?" He was surprised at her equable
+tones. Evidently she had nerved herself for this disclosure.
+
+"A brave woman," he thought.
+
+"That is a hard question to answer."
+
+"Do you think it the result of drink? He had never touched liquor two
+years since."
+
+"I should hardly ascribe it to liquor entirely. Doubtless,
+over-indulgence of that nature has been a force, a great force. The
+delirium in which you found him may be directly ascribed to drink."
+
+"If he had been greatly harassed, say two years since, having been up to
+that time a good man--if then he had suddenly fallen into evil--would
+you ascribe such a fall to the mental strain consequent upon the worry I
+have suggested?"
+
+"She seeks every palliation for him," thought the doctor. "Madam, I
+should say that in the case of a man, such as you have pictured, a
+sudden lapse into evil courses, courses which belied his training and
+previous life----"
+
+"Yes?" She was looking steadfastly at him. He little knew the resolve
+that hung upon his words.
+
+"I should say he was not wholly responsible. I should attribute much to
+the worry, the vexations, to which you have alluded."
+
+With all her firmness she shrank as from a blow. Thinking to comfort
+her, he had driven a knife into her heart.
+
+"And now, my dear Mrs. Claghorn, since we are upon this subject--a
+subject from which I admit I have shrunk--let me tender you some advice.
+You have saved your husband's life; let that be your solace. It will not
+be for his happiness that you sacrifice your own."
+
+"Go on," she said, seeing that he hesitated.
+
+"After awhile--not now," he said, "but after your presence is less
+necessary to him, you must let me aid you to place him in an
+establishment where he will have every care----"
+
+"An asylum?"
+
+The doctor nodded.
+
+"I will never leave him, so help me God in heaven! Never, never, Mark,
+my darling, for I, and only I, brought him to this pass!" She cried
+these words aloud, her hand upraised to heaven.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIII.
+
+MONEY, HEAPS OF MONEY.
+
+
+Mark Claghorn, standing by the window of that room at Stormpoint which
+was especially set aside as his own, but which, in its luxurious
+fittings, bore rather the traces of the all-swaying hand of the mistress
+of the mansion, gazed moodily out toward the tomb, speculating, perhaps,
+as to the present occupation of the soul that had once been caged in the
+bones that crumbled there.
+
+To whom entered Mrs. Joe, who silently contemplated him awhile, and
+then, approaching, touched his shoulder. He turned and smiled, an act
+becoming rare with him. "Mark," she said, "I am getting old."
+
+"You look as young as my sister might," he said.
+
+"That's nonsense," but she smiled, too. Barring some exaggeration, she
+knew that his words were true.
+
+"Even so," she urged seriously, "you have wandered enough. You might
+stay here for my sake."
+
+"Mother, I will stay here for your sake."
+
+"Only that, my son? You know I want more than that."
+
+"Yes," he said, "you want too much. Let us have it out. Believe me, your
+pleasant dream of a political career for me is hopeless. Granted that I
+could buy my way to high office--though I do not think so--could I ever
+respect myself, or command respect? Where, then, would be the honor?"
+
+"I never thought of buying."
+
+"No, not in plain terms. But at my age, together with the fact that I am
+a stranger, at least a newcomer, in this State, money would be my only
+resource--perhaps a hopeless one, in any case. The rich man must learn
+his lesson, which is, that wealth bars the way to honor."
+
+"Our senior Senator is rich."
+
+"I do not speak of moderately rich men. Suspicion is even directed
+(unjustly, I believe) against such men. But the whole State knows that,
+politically, our Senator has risen from the ranks. Perhaps he has been
+compelled to buy that which is his due--who can tell? But all know that
+at least he has earned the distinction he has won."
+
+"And could you not earn it?"
+
+"No. I am not merely moderately rich. I should be 'held up' by every
+rogue that glories in the name of politician. If I refused to buy, and
+refuse I must, I should have no chance whatever. Gold besmirches many
+things. A rich man is of necessity defiled, let him keep his hands as
+clean as he can."
+
+Mrs. Joe sighed.
+
+"You have not been willing to realize the facts which influence my
+life," he went on. "We must look facts in the face. Political
+distinction is not for me. For your sake I would try, were I not assured
+that your disappointment would be inevitable. He laid his hand upon her
+shoulder. He spoke very kindly.
+
+"Mark," she said--there were tears in her eyes--"I wish you were happy."
+
+"If I am content----"
+
+"But you are not. Oh, Mark, seek happiness. Marry."
+
+He smiled grimly. "I wish I could," he said.
+
+"Mark, you say my dream is hopeless. I surrender it. Is yours less
+hopeless? You wear your life away. Is it worthy to wait for a man to
+die?"
+
+He made no answer.
+
+"Dear," she said, and the word moved him deeply, for though he knew how
+much he was beloved of his mother, a term of tenderness was rare from
+her lips--"Dear, you know what she wrote me."
+
+"You showed me the letter. She gave me the same advice long ago."
+
+"It is the right thing to do. Paula loves you. Natalie is lost to you.
+You do not know where she is; she does not intend that you shall know.
+She will not marry you now, even though death were to free her from the
+bonds she has assumed. She is right. Mind, Mark, I say no word of
+censure. I believe in her purity as I do in Paula's--but the world will
+talk. That which she has done cannot be kept secret, but her motive must
+remain a secret. Had the man died----"
+
+"Enough!" he said sternly. "You say you believe in her as you do in
+Paula. No shadow of suspicion can ever cross my mind or yours. We need
+not consider the world----"
+
+"But, my son, she will consider it. She does consider it. Her letter to
+me shows it. That letter was no easy one for a woman to write. Do you
+think she would even indirectly have disclosed your secret to me, except
+that she believed it necessary for your good? I do not doubt, Mark, that
+she has renounced your love even to you. Is it not unworthy to----"
+
+"To love without hope? Perhaps it is. But since the fact is not
+generally known--here, as in some other things, the sin consists in
+being found out." He laughed. "You know you didn't find out; you were
+told."
+
+"Yes; in the hope, I verily believe, that the disclosure would wound you
+and so kill your love."
+
+"It wounded, certainly," he said bitterly. "Perhaps, if you give it
+time, the wound may yet be as fatal as you wish--as she wished." He
+laughed again very grimly. "Strange creatures, women," he said. "Their
+self-sacrifice includes the sacrifice of every one but self."
+
+"That is cruel! From no possible point of view can her life be a happy
+one."
+
+"How you quarrel about a man and cling together against a man!" he said,
+smiling down upon the lady, who had no other answer than the shrug
+which, when it moves feminine shoulders, implies that masculine density
+is impenetrable. His smile broke into laughter.
+
+It aroused her secret indignation; but encouraged her, too. If he could
+laugh, her case was not hopeless.
+
+"Mark, let us be sensible. You should marry and have children. What else
+is open to you, the rich man? You have no faith in the world, none in
+friendship, none in love. Consider what your life must be if, at this
+age, all purer sources of feeling are dried up! In marriage you will
+find them all reopened. Your family will be your world. You need
+children. I need them. We are rich; yes, horribly rich. What is all this
+worth to us? You are the last of a race, honorable since the tenant of
+yonder grave first set foot upon this soil; honorable before that time.
+Shall that race die in you? My son, that old-world notion of Family is
+estimable. This country needs that it be cherished. The wealth will not
+be so new in the next generation. Your sons will not be strangers in the
+land of their fathers. You shall so train them that in them you shall
+reap the distinction denied to you. You say I am yet young. I am not
+old, and may still live to see my grandsons honored by their fellow men.
+By your own confession nothing remains to you but marriage. Love is
+offered you daily, by one most sweet and most lovable. Paula----"
+
+He stopped her by a gesture. Her unwonted energy had impressed him. She
+had spoken well. "You have uttered many truths," he said, "but what you
+say of Paula is not kind, nor do you know----"
+
+"Mark! on my honor as a woman, I believe that Paula loves you." Then she
+left him.
+
+He remained long musing. Why should he not make his mother happy? It was
+true, waiting for a man to die was a pitiful occupation. And even should
+the man die there would be no hope for him. It was a year since Natalie
+had hidden herself with her burden and Tabitha Cone. Hidden herself, as
+he well knew, from him. She had written both him and his mother. She had
+not feared to again acknowledge her love; but she had prayed him to
+forget her. And she had told him that Paula loved him; she had shown him
+that his duty required him to love Paula in return; finally, she had,
+almost sternly, bade him cease to hope.
+
+Perhaps his mother was right. Perhaps Paula loved him--as much as she
+could love. He loved her in the same cool fashion. He was used to her.
+She was very beautiful, completely amiable, kind and gentle. Not very
+brilliant, yet if simple-minded, not a fool. Marriage would bring out
+all there was of Paula, and that might be much more than was generally
+suspected. And whatever it was it would be lovable. He knew he was
+living the life of a fool. Why live that life consciously? Why not make
+his mother completely happy; Paula and himself happier; as happy as they
+could be?
+
+He turned to his desk and opened a hidden drawer therein. From this he
+took a small packet of papers. "A man about to die or marry should set
+his house in order," he muttered, as he spread the papers open. There
+was the first letter Natalie had ever written him; a reply to his letter
+of condolence concerning her father's death. He glanced over it and
+slowly tore it into fragments. He did the same with the few others
+written by her, all except the last he had received. This was in answer
+to a letter into which he had thrown all the strength of his soul,
+lowering, if not completely breaking down, the last barriers of reserve
+behind which those who feel deeply hide their hearts.
+
+He could not complain that in her answer she had not been equally frank.
+"From the innermost depths of my soul I love you, and if more can be, I
+honor you still more--and because I so love and honor you I must not see
+you again. I have loved you since the day I first saw you in the
+Odenwald. I loved you when I became the betrothed of another. I hoped
+then you would find a way to free me from the promise I had given. I
+aver before Heaven that I tried with all my strength to be a faithful
+wife. I loved my husband; alas! not as I know now, with a wife's love,
+but I believed it. Yet--let me confess it--at the very bottom of my
+heart slept my love for you, not dead as I had thought it. I have sinned
+against you, against him who was my husband, against myself. We must all
+suffer for my sin. You are strong. I must gather all the strength I can
+for the duty that my guilt has laid upon me--to bear my fate and to make
+a ruined life as endurable as unremitting care can make it. My sin was
+great. Consider my expiation! I must always see before my eyes my
+handiwork.
+
+"You love me. Do you think that ever a doubt of your love crosses my
+mind? You will always love me. I know it. But, if you see me no more
+that love will, in time, become a tender reminiscence--not worth a tear,
+rather a smile--of pity let it be, for the lives that are wrecked. But
+from this day forth let your own life present a fair ideal to be
+realized. One has grown up beside you whose fate is in your hands. The
+fashioning of her destiny lies with you. To be a happy wife and mother,
+the lot for which nature intended her, or to live the barren life of a
+religious devotee; and knowing her as I do, I know that for you,
+embittered and distrustful by reason of your burden of inordinate
+wealth, she is supremely fitted to make your life serene and cheerful in
+return for the felicity you will bring to her.
+
+"Adieu, for the last time. I shall not forget you, but shall love you as
+long as I live, and as warmly as I love you now. But deliberately, and
+with unalterable resolve, I have chosen my lot. Nothing, not even the
+hand of death, can render me fit to be more to you than the memory of
+one who has lived her life."
+
+He slowly tore the letter into fragments as he had torn the others.
+Perhaps his mouth twitched as he did so. He looked upon the little heap
+of paper on his desk. "The Romance of a Rich Young Man," he muttered,
+and smiled at the conceit. Then he gathered the fragments in his hand
+and strewed them upon some tinder in the chimney and applied a match.
+"Gone up in Smoke," he said aloud.
+
+"Did you speak?" asked his mother, who had entered the room.
+
+"I repeated the title of a novel I am going to write," he said. "I
+wanted to hear how it would sound."
+
+"You must live a romance before you can write one, Mark."
+
+"True," he answered dryly. "I need experience. Where is Paula?"
+
+"Oh, Mark!"
+
+He kissed her. "Yes," he said, "I will do what I can to make you happy,
+and--gain experience."
+
+Mrs. Joe's eyes beamed through her tears.
+
+"She is in the library."
+
+Leaving the room by the window, which opened upon a veranda, he walked
+toward the library, the windows of which opened upon the same veranda.
+
+The library windows were divided in the centre, like doors. They were
+open now, and the thick French plate reflected like a mirror. In the
+open window pane he saw, as in a mirror, a portion of the interior.
+Paula was there, and Paula's head nestled against the breast of Father
+Cameril, and the good Father's arm encircled her while his lips pressed
+hers.
+
+Mark stole silently away.
+
+He found Mrs. Joe awaiting him in the room he had left. "Be very kind to
+her, mother," he said. "She will have something to tell you."
+
+"But you have been so quick----"
+
+He smiled. "I shall not be the hero of the tale. Father Cameril is the
+lucky man. After all, it is better. I could not have made her happy as
+she deserves to be. I am glad I was prevented from offering her----" He
+hesitated.
+
+"Your heart," said Mrs. Joe.
+
+"An insult," he answered curtly, as he left the room, strolling toward
+Eliphalet's tomb.
+
+And at Eliphalet's tomb he recognized that Natalie had been wise. Now
+that it was lost to him he knew that his last long-neglected chance for
+happiness was gone. Happiness! Perhaps the word meant too much, but in
+Paula's companionship he could at least have found, in time, contentment
+and cheerfulness, and are these not happiness, the highest happiness?
+What now was left him? Money, heaps of money! It barred the way to
+honorable ambition; its heavy weight lay on his heart, breeding therein
+suspicion of the love or friendship of all men and women. For him life
+must be a solitude. He could never lie beside a wife assured that he had
+won her for himself. He knew that the deadly poison of distrust must
+ever and ever more thoroughly taint his being, distorting his vision and
+rendering the aspect of all things hateful. Yet how many thousand men,
+whose clothes and dinners were assured them, would be glad to change
+places with him! "But all I have are clothes and food," he muttered.
+
+"We are all poor critters!" Deacon Bedott had spoken words of wisdom.
+"But the poorest of all is the Rich Man, Deacon," he said.
+
+And then bethought him that by this time Paula and Father Cameril would
+have made their great announcement. "Little Paula!" he murmured. "Well,
+she shall have joyous wedding bells, at least, and smiling faces. For
+the rest let the fond Father look to it!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIV.
+
+WEDDING BELLS.
+
+
+The summer sun beat pitilessly upon the burnished cobble stones, driving
+from the crooked street all except the geese, and even these only
+languidly stretched their necks, hissing inhospitably at the heels of
+the dusty wayfarer, the sole object of interest to the landlord of the
+Red-Ox, who stood in the gateway of his hostelry and blinked in the
+glare of the sun. "Too old for a student," he muttered, "and no
+spectacles. Perhaps an artist." As the pedestrian came nearer a puzzled
+gleam, half of recognition, spread over his features. The dusty traveler
+stopped. "And so you are here yet!" and he slapped the broad shoulder of
+the host.
+
+"Here yet, and hope to be for many a year to come," answered the fat
+host; "and you are here, not for the first time, I dare swear; but who
+you are, or when you last were here----
+
+"That you can't recall. Why should you?"
+
+"_Ein Amerikaner!_ A _studiosus juris_, of the Pestilentia. _Ein alter
+Bursch_ of ten years back! Remember? Surely, all but the name."
+
+"And what's in a name?" shaking the offered hand of the landlord. "Mine
+is a mouthful for you--Claghorn."
+
+"_Herr Doktor_ Clokhorn. That's it. Not so great a mouthful after all."
+He led the way into the well-remembered garden. "Many a schoppen have
+you had here," he said; "and many a time sung '_Alter Burschen
+Herrlichkeit_' at this very table, and many trout----"
+
+"Devoured," interrupted Mark. "That pastime will bear repetition. As for
+singing, one loses the desire."
+
+"Not so," observed the fat host. "I am sixty, but I lead the Liederkranz
+to-day. Wine, woman and song--you know what Luther said----"
+
+"I remember. But not even the Great Reformer's poetry is to be taken
+too literally. We'll discuss the point later on. Now some trout, then a
+pipe and a gossip."
+
+When the host departed to attend to the order, Mark unstrapped his
+knapsack and looked about him.
+
+He had come thousands of miles to see this garden! He admitted the
+foolish fact to himself, though even to his mother he would have denied
+it. The fat host was right; he had drunk many a flask of wine in this
+place, roared in many a chorus, had danced many a waltz with village
+maidens on yonder platform; but of these various scenes of his student
+days he had not thought until his host recalled them. They were
+memories, even memories with some of that tender sadness which renders
+such memories pleasant, but such as they would never have drawn him
+here.
+
+And now that he was here, so sharp a pain was in his heart that he
+recognized his folly. The wound was yet too new. He should have waited a
+decade or more. Then he might have found solace in recalling her to his
+mind, here where first he had seen her; he, in all the arrogant pride of
+youth; she, with all the fresh beauty of a school girl. Now no effort
+was needed to recall her to his memory--she was ever present.
+
+Nevertheless, he enjoyed his fish and his wine. "A superlative vintage,"
+said the host, who had had time to recall his guest more distinctly, and
+who remembered that in past days _Studiosus Clokhorn_ had dispensed
+money with a liberal hand.
+
+"And so the inn has been enlarged," said Mark, looking about him. "That
+means prosperity."
+
+"Forellenbach is becoming a resort," replied the host. "We have parties
+that remain for days. We have strangers here at this moment."
+
+"Ah!" was the sleepy comment.
+
+"Yes; three ladies. Or rather, two ladies and a maid. Mother and
+daughter--English."
+
+"Ah!" said Mark again.
+
+At this point the host, rather to the relief of his guest, was called
+away, and Mark adjusted himself upon the bench and dozed. A long tramp,
+and perhaps the superlative vintage, had made him sleepy.
+
+When he awoke, sunset shadows were about him. He was vexed, having
+intended to walk on to Heidelberg, which now he must do in part after
+dark. However, a walk by night might be pleasanter than had been the
+tramp under the sun. Before leaving he would look about. It was not
+likely that he would ever again see a place which would dwell always in
+his memory.
+
+As he neared the cave where the echo dwelt he saw the slender figure of
+a woman. Her back was toward him, but the garb and mien proclaimed one,
+not a permanent resident of the village. "One of mine host's guests," he
+murmured, "a _gnädige Frau_ of artistic taste and economical practice."
+He paused, unwilling to disturb feminine meditation. The stranger stood
+at the entrance to the cave, on the spot where first he had seen the
+girl who, later, had become the one woman in the world to him. There was
+something in her attitude, bent head and arms hanging listless, that
+interested, even moved him. She, too, looked like some lonely being,
+saying a last farewell at a shrine where love had been born; and then,
+as she strolled away, hidden by overhanging boughs of trees and the
+slowly deepening evening shadows, he smiled at his conceit.
+
+He strolled on to where she had been standing, for, though he smiled
+cynically at his foolishness, the spot was to him a sacred one. If
+sentimental folly had brought him a thousand leagues, it might well
+control a few steps more.
+
+As he reached the place he came face to face with another woman, whose
+old but sharp eyes recognized him instantly. "Mr. Mark!"
+
+"Tabby!" He was so astonished that he could say no more for a moment.
+Then he found words: "Was that Natalie?"
+
+Miss Cone, though slightly hysterical from pleasure and surprise,
+explained that Natalie had just left her. "But what brings you here?"
+she added.
+
+"Heaven or fate," was the answer. And then he was for following Natalie
+at once. But Tabitha restrained him. "Let me prepare her," she urged,
+and to that plea she found him willing to listen.
+
+Then she told him the story of their wanderings. They had brought
+Leonard to Europe, principally for the voyage, which, however, had been
+of no benefit. They had remained in Ireland, near Londonderry, where
+they had first landed. He had never been able to move, but passed his
+life in a wheeled chair. His mind had been that of an infant, though
+before he died he seemed to have gleams of intelligence, and had once in
+an old churchyard expressed a wish to be buried there, or so Natalie had
+interpreted his babbling. And there he had slept for a year. "And so,"
+sobbed Tabitha, "the poor boy's weary life is over at last. God bless
+him!"
+
+"Amen to that," said Mark. "Tabitha! It has been a grief to me, God
+knows. So heavy a sorrow that I have thought I could not bear it; yet,
+at this moment I can say that I am glad that Natalie forgave him and
+cherished him till he died."
+
+Tabitha looked up. Her hard, worn old face was softened by her tears.
+"Those words," she said, "will win her for you; if words can win the
+heart already yours."
+
+At the appointed hour Tabitha led him to Natalie, who was waiting for
+him. He could see the swaying of her form as she rose to greet him. He
+took her in his arms.
+
+"My darling, my darling." He could say nothing else. Her arm had crept
+upward about his neck; he held her close.
+
+"Why are you here?" he asked, at length, then added: "Bless God that you
+are here."
+
+"To say good-bye to a place that has often been in my thoughts. And,
+since heaven has permitted it, to say good-bye to you."
+
+"That you shall never say. I vow before God never to leave you. You and
+I shall live our lives together, whatever your answer to the petition I
+now make. Will you be my wife?"
+
+"Mark, I am not----"
+
+"Stop!" he said. "You once declared that as you loved me, so you honored
+me. I now, with all solemnity, declare that you are honored as you are
+loved by me. If I do not estimate the fault which you have expiated as
+you do, I respect and admire the expiation. If you believe me to be a
+truthful man, learn now that I approve your care of him who was your
+husband. Let that suffice. And now, once more I swear that I will never
+leave you. Will you be my wife?"
+
+"Mark, I love you."
+
+"Then the wedding bells shall ring, and Forellenbach shall rejoice."
+Their lips met, and in the kiss they forgot the years that had passed
+since last they saw Forellenbach.
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mr. Claghorn's Daughter, by Hilary Trent
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mr. Claghorn's Daughter, by Hilary Trent
+
+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: Mr. Claghorn's Daughter
+
+Author: Hilary Trent
+
+Release Date: March 1, 2011 [EBook #35436]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. CLAGHORN'S DAUGHTER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+<h1>Mr. Claghorn's Daughter.</h1>
+
+<h2>BY HILARY TRENT.</h2>
+
+
+<h3>Copyright, 1903, by J. S. Ogilvie Publishing Company</h3>
+
+<h3>All Rights Reserved.</h3>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">New York</span>:<br />
+J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY,<br />
+<span class="smcap">57 Rose Street</span>.</h3>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. -->
+<p>
+<a href="#PREFACE">PREFACE.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I. A Philosopher and a Marchioness</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II. Two Pagans Discuss Fish, Paris and the Higher Criticism</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III. A Cousin in the Coils of the Great Serpent</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV. The Diversions of the Claghorns</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V. How a Pagan Philosopher Entered the Service of the Church</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI. Art, Diplomacy, Love and Other Things</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII. A Conference of Spinsters Concerning a Runaway Damsel</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII. A Maiden Fair, a Modern Early Father and a Theologian</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX. The Advantages of Treading the Borderland of Vice</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X. A Youth of Promise, a Female Politician, and a Yellow Man</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI. The Devil Walks To and Fro in Hampton</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII. Her Eyes Grew Limpid and Her Cheeks Flushed Red</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII. Whereat Cynics and Matrons May Smile Incredulous</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV. In the White House&mdash;A Damsel or the Devil, Which?</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV. Sur le Pont d'Avignon on y Danse, on y Danse</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI. Warblings in the White House and Snares for a Soul</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII. The Secret of Her Heart Was Never Told by Her to Him</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII. A Lover Writes a Letter</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX. A Kiss that Might Have Lingered on His Lips While Seeking Entrance
+at the Gate of Heaven</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX. A Dishonest Veiling of a Woman's Heart</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI. A Man About to Meet a Maid</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII. Man Walketh in a Vain Shadow</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII. A Parson Treads the Primrose Path in Paris</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV. To Him I will be Henceforth True in All Things</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV. Mrs. Joe on Clerical Bumptiousness and Mrs. Fenton's Shoulders</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI. Introduces Dr. Stanley, Satan and the Prayer Meeting of Matrons</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII. The Music of the Chorus of the Anguish of the Damned</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII. Cursing and Beating Her Breast, She Falls Upon the Grave</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">CHAPTER XXIX. Dr. Stanley Discourses Concerning the Diversions of the Saints</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">CHAPTER XXX. Startling Effect of Dr. Burley's True Meaning</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">CHAPTER XXXI. He Clasped Her Lithe Body with a Clutch of Fury</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">CHAPTER XXXII. A Pæan of Victory Hymned in Hell</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">CHAPTER XXXIII. A Delectable Discussion in Which a Shakesperian Matron is Routed</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">CHAPTER XXXIV. When Manhood is Lost Woman's Time is Come</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">CHAPTER XXXV. A Bottle of Champagne</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">CHAPTER XXXVI. She Cried Aloud She Was a Guilty Creature</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII">CHAPTER XXXVII. A Golden Bridge for Passage Across an Abyss of Shame</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII">CHAPTER XXXVIII. The Ruins of Her Air Castles Lay Around Her</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX">CHAPTER XXXIX. Voidable Vows of Turks (and Others)</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XL">CHAPTER XL. Her Face Was the Mirror of Her Pleasant Dreams</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XLI">CHAPTER XLI. Her Guilty Conscience Cried, "Behold Your Handiwork"</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XLII">CHAPTER XLII. I Will Never Leave Him, So Help Me God!</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XLIII">CHAPTER XLIII. Money, Heaps of Money</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XLIV">CHAPTER XLIV. Wedding Bells</a><br />
+</p>
+<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. -->
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="PREFACE" id="PREFACE"></a>PREFACE.</h2>
+
+
+<p>Some readers of this novel will charge the author with the crime of
+laying a sacrilegious hand upon the Ark of God; others will characterize
+his work as an assault upon a windmill.</p>
+
+<p>I contend (and the fact, if it be a fact, is ample justification for
+this book) that The Westminster Confession of Faith has driven many
+honest souls to the gloom of unbelief, to the desperate need of a denial
+of God; and that to-day a very large number of the adherents of that
+Confession find it possible to maintain their faith in God only by
+secret rejection of a creed they openly profess.</p>
+
+<p>Take from that Confession those Articles which give rise to the dilemma
+which confronts the wife and mother of this story, and nothing is left.
+The articles in question are the essential articles of the Confession.</p>
+
+<p>He who can in honesty say of The Westminster Confession of Faith: "This
+is my standard: by this sign I shall conquer," he, and he only, has the
+right to condemn my purpose.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Hilary Trent.</span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><span class="smcap">Mr. Claghorn's Daughter</span></h2>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2>
+
+<h3>A PHILOSOPHER AND A MARCHIONESS.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Mr. (by preference Monsieur) Beverley Claghorn, of the Rue de la Paix,
+Paris, was a personage of some note in that world in which he had lived
+for many years. His slightly aquiline nose and well-pointed moustache,
+his close-cropped grizzled hair, his gold-rimmed pince-nez, his hat, his
+boots&mdash;his attire as a whole&mdash;successfully appealed to a refined taste.
+The sapphire, encircled by tiny diamonds, which adorned his little
+finger, beautiful to the common eye, was, in the eye of the connoisseur,
+a rare and exquisite gem. Except as to an inch or two of stature, the
+outward man of Monsieur Claghorn left nothing to be desired; while as to
+his intellectual calibre, he to whom it was best known regarded it with
+respect, even with admiration; his moral deportment had never occasioned
+scandal; with the goods of this world he was liberally endowed. As a
+philosopher (for he affected that character) he should have been a
+contented man; being human, as philosophers must be, he was not. As
+against the advantages indicated, Monsieur had grievances incompatible
+with contentment. He was nearer sixty than forty, which was one cause of
+sorrow; another was that, in spite of the effort of years, he had not in
+fact become a Parisian. He had succeeded in approaching the type very
+nearly; nevertheless, though his card might proclaim him "Monsieur" and
+imply its owner to the Gallic manner born, the truth remained that he
+was not so born. His language, by dint of effort, aided by native
+talent, had become almost as easy and as idiomatic as the enunciations
+of those who formed the world in which he dwelt, yet he was poignantly
+aware that therein was still to be detected an echo of the twang of his
+youth and of his native tongue. His surname, too, as a stumbling block
+to his friends, was a source of vexation. Had he been born a Dobbins, a
+mere apostrophe would have made him a d'Obbins and content. But the
+uncompromising appellation of his ancestors refused to lend itself to a
+fraud, though venial, and even ennobling, and thus remained a source of
+repining; a gentle regret that his cognomen was not more fitting to his
+environment. But as to his name received in baptism, therewith was
+connected a grief so deep and a dread so great, that it was, perhaps,
+the most baleful of his closeted skeletons. Fortune having so far
+enabled Monsieur to hide the sorrow connected with his Christian name,
+let us also leave the matter to fortune.</p>
+
+<p>To enumerate all the grievances of our philosopher would be a tedious
+task, but there was one of such magnitude that it may be regarded as the
+great grievance of his existence. This was Christianity.</p>
+
+<p>That earnest conviction of the truth of orthodox Christianity should
+incite to propagandism is easily comprehensible. A reasonable sinner
+will not complain of the believer's desire to save errant souls; indeed,
+he may well be amazed that the believer engages in any other occupation.
+But why the rage for proselytizing should inspire the non-believer is
+less obvious. Why should the heathen rage because the zealot is deluded
+by hope and his eyes deceived by the cheering illusions offered by
+faith? If the rough road of the Christian wayfarer, its gloomy valleys
+and dark caverns are smoothed and illumined by the cheering light of
+conviction, why should the skeptic object, and beckon the fervent
+pilgrim from his chosen path to that broader and more alluring road
+selected by himself? Can it be that, like a boy who fears the coming
+darkness, the skeptic craves companionship, suspecting hobgoblins after
+sunset?</p>
+
+<p>Monsieur Claghorn was indignant that the world, as he knew it, either
+professed a more or less orthodox belief in God, or cared nothing about
+the matter. Both attitudes aroused his ire.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Claghorn," urged his connexion, the Marquise de Fleury, "why
+not leave these matters to Père Martin, as I do? I assure you it is
+comforting," and the little matron shrugged her rather sharp
+shoulder-blades and nestled more snugly in the corner of her blue-silk
+sofa.</p>
+
+<p>"It is degrading to the intellect."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! The intellect&mdash;I have none; I am all soul."</p>
+
+<p>"You&mdash;the brightest woman in Paris!"</p>
+
+<p>"Too broad, <i>mon ami</i>. Exaggeration destroys the delicate flavor of a
+compliment."</p>
+
+<p>"Louise, you are in a bad humor. Evidently, you don't like your gown."</p>
+
+<p>"The gown is ravishing, as you should have seen before this. It is you,
+my friend, who are angry. To what end? Angry at nothing? That is
+foolish. Angry at something? Considering that that Something is God&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"There you have it,&mdash;fear. Women rule men through their passions; and
+priests rule women through their fears."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Eh bien!</i> Have it so. You deny God. It is daring&mdash;splendid&mdash;but what
+do you gain, what do you gain, <i>mon ami</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>"I deny your impossible God, and in so doing, I retain my self-respect."</p>
+
+<p>"A valuable possession, doubtless. Yet the fact remains that you fight
+windmills, or you fight the power that loosens the hurricane. Futile
+warfare!"</p>
+
+<p>Monsieur shrugged his shoulders. A woman's argument is rarely worthy the
+attention of a philosopher.</p>
+
+<p>"Behold," continued the little Marquise, "behold Père Martin. He is
+good; he is wise. What has he to gain? Only heaven. He sacrifices much
+on earth&mdash;pleasure, dignity, power&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"He has more power than a king&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Listen, my friend, and do not interrupt. If he has power over me and
+such as I&mdash;which is what you mean&mdash;he uses it discreetly, kindly. I
+enjoy life, I hope for heaven. You enjoy life, of heaven you have no
+hope. Which of us is wise?"</p>
+
+<p>"You believe because you think it safer."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Dame, mon ami!</i> It costs nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"It is cowardly."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, well, my friend, I am a coward. Let us discuss something less
+gruesome. This charming Natalie! You will let her come to me, now that
+she is to leave the barbarians?"</p>
+
+<p>"I, too, am a coward. I fear Père Martin."</p>
+
+<p>"Believe me, my friend," said the Marquise, more seriously than she had
+yet spoken, "you do wrong. Women need religion. They must adore; they
+must sacrifice themselves to the object of their worship. As a rule they
+have a choice. They may worship God or they may worship Love. To one or
+the other they will devote themselves or miss their destiny. Which is
+less dangerous?"</p>
+
+<p>"There is danger everywhere," replied the philosopher, discontentedly.
+"But, indeed, Louise, this matter is more serious to me, the unbeliever,
+than to you, the Christian. You Latins do not comprehend the reverence
+we of a different race assign to principle. I think it wrong, immoral,
+to expose my daughter to an atmosphere of falsehood."</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur, you are unjust to us Latins; and worse, you are impolite."</p>
+
+<p>"I am serious. I think Christianity the curse of mankind."</p>
+
+<p>"And you object to it. That is magnanimous."</p>
+
+<p>"Natalie has been left in total ignorance of all religion."</p>
+
+<p>"Charming&mdash;but hardly <i>de rigueur</i> for a de Fleury."</p>
+
+<p>"She is a Claghorn."</p>
+
+<p>"An excellent thing to be; enviable indeed, my dear,&mdash;in America. But
+she will be a Parisienne; we hope a de Fleury, of a house by inheritance
+religious. The wife of the Marquis de Fleury must uphold the family
+traditions. Do you not see, my friend, that it is thirty generations of
+nobles that insist."</p>
+
+<p>Monsieur Claghorn, though in doubt as to God, believed in the
+generations. He had long looked forward to the time when his daughter
+should be united to the last scion of this ancient race. True, the
+title was in these days purely ornamental; but, though a philosopher, he
+was not of that unwise class which can see no value in adornment. He
+suspected that the noble Marquis, whose coronet he craved for his
+daughter, as well as his mama, the little lady to whom he was talking,
+were in truth as much interested in the material as in the spiritual
+attributes of the future mother of the race, but he was also aware that
+there were other influences to be considered.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps Père Martin is even more insistent than the thirty
+generations," he suggested.</p>
+
+<p>"Even so, my friend; when Père Martin insists it is my conscience that
+insists."</p>
+
+<p>"After all, Louise, this discussion is premature. Adolphe is still at
+St. Cyr, Natalie at school&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But to-day we prepare for to-morrow. Adolphe will soon be a lieutenant,
+your daughter a woman. Let her come to me. Our prayers, those of Père
+Martin and mine, cannot harm her."</p>
+
+<p>"Assuredly not, still&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But my good pagan, do you intend to refuse? Is it worth nothing to your
+daughter to be introduced by the Marquise de Fleury?"</p>
+
+<p>It was worth so much that M. Claghorn had no intention of refusing. "And
+Adolphe?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Will remain at St. Cyr. Fear nothing, my friend. I shall do nothing in
+that matter without consulting you."</p>
+
+<p>"You are always kind. It shall be as you wish." And then, after some
+further indifferent conversation, the Marquise was by M. Claghorn handed
+to her carriage for a promenade in the Bois; while the philosopher,
+after that act of courtesy, left her to visit La Duchesne, a fashionable
+seeress, who prophesied as to the course of stocks.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2>
+
+<h3>TWO PAGANS DISCUSS FISH, PARIS AND THE HIGHER CRITICISM.</h3>
+
+
+<p>It was midsummer. The Marquise was in Brittany, Monsieur in Germany; or,
+as Madame de Fleury patriotically expressed it, among the barbarians, he
+having penetrated into barbaric wilds in order to reclaim his daughter,
+whose education, for the past two years, had been progressing under
+barbaric auspices.</p>
+
+<p>There is, not far from Heidelberg, and in that part of the country of
+the barbarians known as the Odenwald, a quaint village called
+Forellenbach; and hard by the village, which is clustered against a
+steep hill-side, there dashes in cascades that foam and roar, a stream,
+from the dark pools whereof are drawn trout, which, by the excellent
+host of the Red-Ox are served hot, in a sauce compounded of white wine
+and butter; and these things render the place forever memorable to him
+who loves fish or scenery, or both.</p>
+
+<p>Monsieur Claghorn and his daughter were seated in the garden of the
+Red-Ox. They had arrived at the inn in a carriage, being on their way to
+Heidelberg. From Natalie's school they had journeyed by rail to Bad
+Homburg; and from that resort, having despatched the girl's maid ahead
+by train, they had commenced a mode of travel which Natalie secretly
+hoped would not end as soon as had been originally anticipated; for the
+trip thus far had been the most delightful experience of her life.</p>
+
+<p>There were reasons for this delight besides the joy derived from driving
+in pleasant weather, over smooth roads, through curious villages, beside
+winding rivers whose vineclad hills echoed the raftsman's song; beneath
+the trees of many a forest, passing often the ruins of some grim keep,
+which silently told to the girl its story of the time that, being past,
+was a time of romance when life was more beautiful, more innocent, less
+sordid than now. Not that Natalie knew much of the unpleasing features
+of modern life, or of any life (else had her self-made pictures of other
+days borne a different aspect), still the past had its attraction for
+her, as it has for all that love to dream; and from her Baedeker she had
+derived just enough information to form the basis of many a tender scene
+that had never taken place, in days that never were or could have been.
+Her dreams were not wholly of the past, but of the future as well; all
+impossible and as charming as innocence and imagination could paint
+them. School was behind her, her face toward France, a home fireside,
+liberty and happiness for all time to come. No vision of the days in
+which she had not lived could be more alluring than the visions of the
+days in which she was to live, nor more delusive.</p>
+
+<p>Beverley Claghorn looking upon his daughter, perhaps, also saw a
+visionary future. He loved her, of course. He respected her, too, for
+had not her mother been of the ancient House of Fleury? It was no
+ignoble blood which lent the damask tint to cheeks upon which he gazed
+with complacent responsibility for their being. The precious fluid,
+coursing beneath the fair skin, if carefully analyzed, should exhibit
+corpuscles tinged with royal azure. For, was it not true that a
+demoiselle of her mother's line had been, in ancient days, graciously
+permitted to bear a son to a king of France, from which son a noble
+House had sprung with the proud privilege of that bar sinister which
+proclaimed its glory? These were facts well worthy to be the foundation
+of a vision in which he saw the maid before him a wife of one of the old
+noblesse; a mother of sons who would uphold the sacred cause of
+Legitimacy, as their ancestors (including himself, for he was a furious
+Legitimist) had done before them. It would solace the dreaded status of
+grandfather.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you thinking of, Natalie?" he asked in French.</p>
+
+<p>"Of many things; principally that I am sorry he showed them to us."</p>
+
+<p>"The trout?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I am so hungry."</p>
+
+<p>"They have sharpened your appetite. They are beautiful fish."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad they haven't spoiled it. Why, papa, they were alive! Did you
+see their gills palpitate?"</p>
+
+<p>"They are very dead now."</p>
+
+<p>"And we shall eat them. It seems a pity."</p>
+
+<p>He laughed. "Grief will not prevent your enjoyment," he said; "you will
+have a double luxury&mdash;of woe, and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You are ashamed of my capacity for eating, papa. It is very
+unromantic."</p>
+
+<p>Papa smiled, raising his eyelids slightly. He seemed, and in fact was, a
+little bored. "Haven't we had enough of this?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"But we haven't had any yet."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't mean trout&mdash;I only hope they won't be drowned in bad butter&mdash;I
+mean of this," and he lazily stretched his arms, indicating the
+Odenwald.</p>
+
+<p>She sighed. Her secret hope that the journey by carriage might be
+extended further than planned was waning. "I was never so happy in my
+life," she exclaimed. "I shall never forget the pine-forests, the hills,
+the castles; nor the geese in the villages; nor the horrible little
+cobblestones&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Nor the sour wine&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That is your French taste, papa. The <i>vin du pays</i> is no better in
+France. The wine is good enough, if you pay enough."</p>
+
+<p>"The Lützelsachser is drinkable, the Affenthaler even good," admitted
+Monsieur, indulgent to barbaric vintage; "but think of yesterday!"</p>
+
+<p>"Think of an epicure who expected to get Affenthaler in that poor little
+village! They gave you the best they had."</p>
+
+<p>"Which was very bad." He laughed good-naturedly. "I dread a similar
+experience if we continue this method of travel."</p>
+
+<p>"I could travel this way forever and forever!" She sighed and extended
+her arms, then clasped her hands upon her breast. It was an unaffected
+gesture of youth and pleasure and enthusiasm.</p>
+
+<p>It made him smile. "Wait until you have seen Paris," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"But I have seen Paris."</p>
+
+<p>"With the eyes of a child; now you are a woman."</p>
+
+<p>"That is so," somewhat dreamily, as though this womanhood were no new
+subject of reverie. "I am eighteen&mdash;but why should Paris be especially
+attractive to a woman?"</p>
+
+<p>"Paris is the world."</p>
+
+<p>"And so is this."</p>
+
+<p>"This, my dear&mdash;&mdash;" the remonstrance on his lips was interrupted by the
+arrival of the fish.</p>
+
+<p>They were very good: "<i>Ravissant!</i>" exclaimed Natalie, who displayed a
+very pitiless appreciation of them. "Not so bad," admitted papa.</p>
+
+<p>"And so I am to stay with my cousin, the Marquise," said the girl, after
+the cravings of an excellent appetite had been satisfied. "Papa, even
+you can find no fault with this Deidesheimer," filling her glass as she
+spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"With your cousin for a time, anyhow. It is very kind of her, and for
+you nothing better could be wished. She sees the best world of Paris."</p>
+
+<p>"And as I remember, is personally very nice."</p>
+
+<p>"A charming woman&mdash;with a fault. She is devout."</p>
+
+<p>"I have known some like her," observed Natalie. "There was Fräulein
+Rothe, our drawing-mistress, a dear old lady, but very religious."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope none of them attempted to influence you in such matters," he
+said, frowning slightly.</p>
+
+<p>"No. It was understood that you had expressly forbidden it. I was left
+out of the religious classes; they called me 'The Pagan.'"</p>
+
+<p>"No harm in that," commented Monsieur rather approvingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no! It was all in good-nature. The Pagan was a favorite. But, of
+course, I have had some curiosity. I have read a little of the Bible."
+She made her confession shyly, as though anticipating reproach.</p>
+
+<p>"There is no objection to that," he said. "At your age you should have a
+mind of your own. Use it and I have no fear as to the result. My view is
+that in leaving you uninfluenced I have done my duty much more fully
+than if I had early impressed upon you ideas which I think pernicious,
+and which only the strongest minds can cast aside in later life. What
+impression has your Bible reading left?"</p>
+
+<p>"The Jews of the Old Testament were savages, and their book is
+unreadable for horrors. The Gospel narratives seem written by men of
+another race. The character of Jesus is very noble. He must have lived,
+for he could not have been invented by Jews. Of course, he was not God,
+but I don't wonder that his followers thought so."</p>
+
+<p>"He was a Great Philosopher," answered Monsieur Claghorn with high
+approval. "The incarnation of pure stoicism, realizing the ideal more
+truly than even Seneca or Marcus. And what of the literary quality of
+the book?"</p>
+
+<p>"The gospels are equal to the Vicar of Wakefield or Paul and Virginia.
+As to the rest," she shrugged her shoulders after the French
+fashion&mdash;"Revelation was written by a maniac."</p>
+
+<p>"Or a modern poet," observed the gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>Now while these latest exponents of the Higher Criticism were thus
+complacently settling the literary standing of Luke and John, placing
+them on as high a level as that attained by Goldsmith and St. Pierre,
+the man smoking and the girl sipping wine (for the fish had been
+devoured and their remains removed), two persons came into the garden.
+They carried knapsacks and canes, wore heavy shoes, were dusty and
+travel-stained. The elder of the pair had the clerical aspect; the youth
+was simply a very handsome fellow of twenty or thereabout, somewhat
+provincial in appearance.</p>
+
+<p>Beverley Claghorn glanced at the pair, and with an almost imperceptible
+shrug of the shoulders, which, if it referred to the newcomers, was not
+complimentary, continued to smoke without remark. The girl was more
+curious.</p>
+
+<p>"They are English," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Americans," he answered, with a faint shade of disapproval in his
+tone.</p>
+
+<p>"But so are we," she remonstrated, noting the tone.</p>
+
+<p>"We can't help it," he replied, resenting one of his grievances. "You
+can hardly be called one."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it disgraceful?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all; but I don't flaunt it."</p>
+
+<p>"But, papa, surely you are not ashamed of it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly not. But it is a little tiresome. Our countrymen are so
+oppressively patriotic. They demand of you that you glory in your
+nativity. I don't. I am not proud of it. I shouldn't be proud of being
+an Englishman, or a Frenchman, or an Italian, or&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"In fact, papa, you are not proud at all."</p>
+
+<p>"Natalie," proceeded the philosopher, not noticing the interruption,
+"one may be well-disposed toward the country of one's birth; one may
+even recognize the duty of fighting, if need be, for its institutions.
+But the pretence of believing in one's country, of fulsome adoration for
+imperfect institutions, is to welcome intellectual slavery, to surrender
+to the base instinct of fetichism."</p>
+
+<p>"Like religion," she said, recognizing the phrase.</p>
+
+<p>"Like religion," he assented. "You will find when you are as old as I am
+that I am right."</p>
+
+<p>"Yet people do believe in religion. There's Fräulein Rothe&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Natalie, no reasoning being can believe what is called Christianity,
+but many beings think that they believe."</p>
+
+<p>"But why don't they discover that they don't think what they think they
+think?"</p>
+
+<p>"There's nothing strange in that. When they were young they were told
+that they believed, and have grown up with that conviction. The same
+people would scorn to accept a new and incredible story on the evidence
+which is presented in favor of the Christian religion."</p>
+
+<p>The girl sighed as though the paternal wisdom was somewhat
+unsatisfactory. Meantime the slight raising of Monsieur's voice had
+attracted the attention of the dusty wayfarers who, in default of other
+occupation, took to observing the pair.</p>
+
+<p>"She is very pretty," said the youth.</p>
+
+<p>The elder did not answer. He was intently scrutinizing Beverley
+Claghorn. After a moment of hesitation he surprised his companion by
+rising and approaching that person with outstretched hand.</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot be mistaken," he exclaimed in a loud, hearty voice. "This is a
+Claghorn."</p>
+
+<p>"That is my name," replied the would-be Gallic owner of the appellation
+in English. "I have the honor of seeing&mdash;&mdash;" but even as he uttered the
+words he recognized the man who was now shaking a somewhat reluctant
+hand with gushing heartiness.</p>
+
+<p>"I am Jared. You remember me, of course. I see it in your eyes. And so
+this is really you&mdash;Eliphalet! 'Liph, as we called you at the old Sem.
+'Liph, I am as glad to see you as a mother a long-lost son."</p>
+
+<p>"And I," replied the other, "am charmed." He bore it smiling, though his
+daughter looked on in wonder, and he felt that the secret of his baptism
+had been heartlessly disclosed.</p>
+
+<p>"This," said Jared, "is my son, Leonard," and while the son grew red and
+bowed, the clergyman looked at the girl to whom his son's bow had been
+principally directed.</p>
+
+<p>"My daughter, Natalie de Fleury-Claghorn," said her father. "My dear,
+this is my cousin, Professor Claghorn, whom I have not seen for many
+years."</p>
+
+<p>"Not since we were students together at Hampton Theological Seminary,"
+added Jared, smilingly. He habitually indulged in a broad smile that
+indicated satisfaction with things as he found them. It was very broad
+now, as he offered his hand, saying, "And so you are 'Liph's daughter,
+and your name is Natalidaflurry&mdash;that must be French. And your mother,
+my dear, I hope&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"My wife has been dead since my daughter's birth," interrupted Monsieur,
+"and I," he added, "long ago discarded my baptismal name and assumed
+that of my mother."</p>
+
+<p>"Discarded the old name!" exclaimed the Reverend Jared, surprised. "Had
+I been aware of that, I surely would have given it to Leonard. I
+regarded it, as in some sort, the property of the elder branch. Surely,
+you don't call yourself Susan?"</p>
+
+<p>"My mother's name was Susan Beverley; I assumed her family name." The
+philosopher uttered the words with a suavity that did him credit. Then,
+apologetically, and in deference to his cousin's evident grief: "You
+see, Eliphalet was somewhat of a mouthful for Frenchmen."</p>
+
+<p>"And so the old name has fallen into disuse," murmured Jared
+regretfully. "We must revive it. Leonard, upon you&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But Leonard had taken Natalie to look at the cascades.</p>
+
+<p>So, lighting fresh cigars, the two former fellow-students commenced a
+revival of old memories. Their discourse, especially on the part of the
+clergyman, contained frequent allusion to family history, which to the
+reader would be both uninteresting and incomprehensible. But, since some
+knowledge of that history is requisite to the due understanding of the
+tale that is to be told, the respected personage indicated is now
+invited to partake of that knowledge.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2>
+
+<h3>A COUSIN IN THE COILS OF THE GREAT SERPENT.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Professor and the Reverend Jared Claghorn has already intimated that the
+name Eliphalet was an honored one in the family. An Eliphalet Claghorn
+had been a man of mark among the Pilgrims. His eldest son had borne his
+parent's name and had succeeded to the clerical vocation; an example
+which he had imposed upon his own first-born, and thus became
+established the custom of giving to a son of each Eliphalet the name of
+his father, in the pleasing hope that he who bore the revered
+appellation might be called to serve in the Lord's fold, as shepherd of
+the flock; which hope had generally been realized. In due course that
+Eliphalet who was destined to beget Beverley had been called, had
+answered the summons, and at the birth of his only son, had, with
+confident expectation of a similar call to the latter, named his name
+"Eliphalet."</p>
+
+<p>In time the call was heard. The youth, fully assured that he, like the
+ancestral Eliphalets, would find his field of labor in the vineyard of
+God, had gone so far in acceptance of his solemn duty as to enter the
+well-known Theological Seminary at Hampton, there to fit himself for the
+only future he had ever contemplated.</p>
+
+<p>Then a shock had come,&mdash;a great legacy from one of two California
+brothers, both long given up as dead. From the moment this fortune came
+into his possession, the father of Beverley Claghorn, always a stern and
+gloomy man, the product of a ruthless creed, knew no day of peace. He
+craved worldly distinction&mdash;not the pleasures which beckoned his
+son&mdash;with a craving which only a starved nature with powers fitting to
+the world can know. On the other hand, a rigid sense of duty, perhaps,
+too, the gloomy joy of martyrdom, urged him to reject a temptation which
+he persuaded himself was offered by the Prince of Darkness. He remained
+outwardly true to his duty, an unhappy soldier at the post assigned
+him, and died as his fathers had died, in the odor of sanctity; in his
+heart hankering to the last for the joys offered by the world to him who
+has wealth, and to the last sternly rejecting them.</p>
+
+<p>Secretly, though with bitter self-condemnation, he had approved his
+son's renunciation of the theological course. Not with his lips. It was
+impossible for him, stubbornly believing, as he had always believed,
+though now with the frequent doubts and fears of the new standpoint he
+occupied, to openly approve the intentions displayed by the youth. Yet
+he acquiesced in silence, secretly hoping to see the son, who had
+commenced the study of the law, a power in the State. That he was never
+to see, and it was well that he died before the renegade Eliphalet had
+extinguished such hope by voluntary exile.</p>
+
+<p>Beverley's history, or at least that portion of it which he chose to
+impart, was told in reply to the eager questioning of Jared. Perhaps he
+was not sorry that his old fellow-student should note his air of man of
+fashion and aristocrat, and he set forth the renown of the de Fleury
+lineage, innocently shocking his cousin by explaining the meaning and
+glory of that bar sinister, which he himself revered.</p>
+
+<p>Jared, on his part, narrated at much greater length than his auditor
+sympathetically appreciated, the history of his own life. He, too, had
+married brilliantly&mdash;a Morley, as he informed his cousin, and one who,
+dying, had left him well endowed with this world's goods, and it may be
+that it was by reason of this fact, as well as because of superior
+attainments, that the speaker had developed into a teacher in that same
+seminary where the two had been fellow-students.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said in a tone of satisfaction, "I hold down the chair of
+Biblical Theology in Hampton. You would hardly recognize the old Sem,
+El&mdash;Beverley."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose not. I shall make a flying trip there some day."</p>
+
+<p>"A flying trip! Surely you don't intend to abandon your country
+forever?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not unlikely. You see, I am more of a Frenchman than anything else, and
+my daughter is quite French."</p>
+
+<p>"She speaks English?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, as to that, as well as anybody. She has been largely educated in
+England. But her relatives, I mean those that she knows, look upon her
+as belonging wholly to them, and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I trust she is not a Romanist, Cousin."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean a Catholic. Make your mind easy; she is not."</p>
+
+<p>"I truly rejoice to hear it," exclaimed Jared with fervor. "But I might
+have known," he added apologetically, "that a Claghorn would not suffer
+the perversion of his child." Whereat Monsieur changed the topic.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, the young ones of the party had gone to investigate an echo
+in a glen hard by, directed thereto by the host of the Red-Ox. They were
+conducted by a stolid maiden, told off for that purpose, a fact which
+Monsieur Claghorn, from his place in the garden, noted with
+satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>Freed from the restraint of the presence of the philosopher, whose
+raiment and bearing had inspired him with awe, Leonard's engaging
+simplicity and frank manner added to the favorable impression of his
+beautiful face.</p>
+
+<p>The charms of nature about them were attractive to both and it was easy
+to become acquainted, with so much of interest in common. The girl's
+enthusiasm, somewhat dampened by the philosopher, returned in the
+presence of a sympathetic listener, and she told the tale of their
+wanderings, concluding by expressing the opinion that Germany must be
+the most delightful of all countries.</p>
+
+<p>"This part is fine," said Leonard. "But wait until you see the Black
+Forest."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope to see it when we leave Heidelberg. Is the wine good?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," was the answer. "I didn't drink any wine."</p>
+
+<p>"It must be very bad if you wouldn't drink it," she observed
+despondently. "Papa scolds about the wine of the Bergstrasse, which, for
+my part, I find very good. Then, at the better inns one isn't confined
+to the vintage of the neighborhood."</p>
+
+<p>"Surely, you don't drink wine!" exclaimed Leonard.</p>
+
+<p>"Not drink wine! What should I do with it?"</p>
+
+<p>"It biteth like a serpent and stingeth like an adder," he quoted
+gravely, not at all priggishly. He was sincere in his confidence in
+Solomon, and his surprise and sorrow were honest.</p>
+
+<p>"Wine does!" she laughed. "I never knew that before. Don't Americans
+drink wine?"</p>
+
+<p>"Some do," he admitted. "Our best people do not drink. We think the
+example bad."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Par example!</i> And how do your best people manage at dinner?"</p>
+
+<p>"With water."</p>
+
+<p>"Decidedly, I should not like dining with your best people."</p>
+
+<p>"But, Cousin Natalie&mdash;that is a very pretty name;" here he blushed
+engagingly&mdash;"wine makes one drunk."</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, if one gets drunk."</p>
+
+<p>"Then, how can you drink wine?"</p>
+
+<p>The question and the serious manner of its asking were incomprehensible
+to the girl, who laughed at the incongruity of the ideas suggested by
+drinking wine on the one hand, and getting drunk on the other. Then the
+subject was dropped; perhaps they recognized that it was enveloped in
+clouds of misunderstanding which were impenetrable.</p>
+
+<p>The glen in which dwells the echo of Forellenbach is like a roofless
+cave, or a great well with a side entrance. Its floor being wet, Natalie
+remained at the entrance, trusting there to hear whatever might be worth
+hearing. Leonard passed into the well.</p>
+
+<p>He looked back. She stood in the light, smiling upon this new-found
+cousin, who had such strange ideas as to wine, but withal, her eyes were
+kindly. If either had any premonition of the future, it must have been
+false or partial, or they had not faced each other smiling. He had
+intended to shout aloud her pretty name and thus to test the echo; but
+instinct warned him that this was hardly fitting. So, perhaps, with a
+vague desire to connect her with the trial, he compromised, and the word
+he shouted was "Claghorn."</p>
+
+<p>It was returned to him in various modulations from all sides. The
+effect was startling, but even more so were the words that fell upon his
+ear as the echoes died away: "Who are you, and what do you want?"</p>
+
+<p>The question came from above. Leonard, looking upward, saw the face of a
+youth who, from the top of the cliff, was peering down. Upon the head of
+this person, rakishly worn, was a blue cap, braided with silver and red
+velvet. The face had penetrating eyes, rather stern, and a mouth shaded
+by a dark moustache. The question was repeated, it seemed to Leonard
+truculently: "What do you want?"</p>
+
+<p>The words were German, but easily understood. Leonard answered in
+English: "I don't want you."</p>
+
+<p>"Then, why did you call me?" Now the words were English and the tone
+awakened Leonard's resentment. "Do you suppose that every one that tries
+the echo is calling you?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"You called me. Why?"</p>
+
+<p>Leonard labored under the disadvantage of hearing all that was said
+repeated many times. It was irritating; nor was the tone of the other
+pacific. It was even war-like. "I didn't address you," he said. "I do
+now: Be silent!"</p>
+
+<p>The other laughed. "<i>Bist ein dummer Junge</i>, my son," he said. "I
+suppose you are a student. Get your card."</p>
+
+<p>He disappeared, evidently with a view of intercepting Leonard who,
+emerging from the cave, met him almost at Natalie's side.</p>
+
+<p>The newcomer was surprised to see the girl. "I beg your pardon," he
+said, removing his cap; then, aside to Leonard: "I will accept your card
+on another occasion, if you prefer. You are a student of Heidelberg, I
+suppose?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am a student, certainly, of Hampton, in the United States. I have no
+card. My name is Claghorn."</p>
+
+<p>The sternness of the newcomer gave place to astonishment. "I beg your
+pardon, and your sister's," he said, glancing at Natalie. "My name
+happens to be the same. Naturally, I supposed&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"The place seems to be alive with Claghorns," exclaimed Leonard.</p>
+
+<p>"And since you are from Hampton, I believe we are related," continued
+the newcomer. "Cousins, I suppose. You can't be Professor Claghorn?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can be, and am, his son," laughed Leonard. "You are the third cousin
+I have found to-day."</p>
+
+<p>By this time the two elders had joined the party. Monsieur Claghorn had
+deemed it advisable, for his daughter's sake, to follow her footsteps.
+The Reverend Jared, accompanying him, heard Leonard's words. "A cousin!"
+he exclaimed, looking inquiringly at the stranger who made the claim,
+and ready gushingly to welcome him.</p>
+
+<p>"I think so," answered the stranger, smiling. "My father was Joseph
+Claghorn, of San Francisco."</p>
+
+<p>"He's your first cousin, 'Liph," exclaimed the Reverend Jared,
+hesitating no longer, but grasping the unoffered hand of the son of
+Joseph. Then he added in an awestruck voice, "You must be the owner of
+the Great Serpent?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am in its coils," replied the young man with a half sigh.</p>
+
+<p>"Wonderful!" ejaculated Jared, and then glibly plunged into a
+genealogical disquisition for the general benefit, the result of which
+was that Claghorn, the son of Joseph, and in the coils of the Great
+Serpent, stood demonstrated as the first cousin of Beverley, the second
+of Natalie, the third of himself and the fourth of Leonard. The
+professorial fluency had the good effect of creating enough hilarity to
+dissipate constraint; and its cordiality embraced all present in a
+circle of amity, whether they would or not.</p>
+
+<p>But there was no indication of reluctance to cousinly recognition.
+Monsieur saw sufficient comedy in the situation to amuse him, nor was he
+oblivious of the fascinations of the Great Serpent, which reptile was a
+mine, known by repute to all present, and the source of Monsieur's
+wealth, for that inheritance that had changed the course of his life had
+been thence derived. The dead brother of the now dead Eliphalet had left
+his share of the mine to Joseph, his partner, but had divided his
+savings between Eliphalet and a sister, Achsah by name. The son of
+Joseph, and owner of the Great Serpent, must be in the eyes of anybody
+the acceptable person he was in the eyes of Monsieur Claghorn, the more
+so as he was thoroughly presentable, being handsome, well dressed, and
+with rather more of the air of a man of the world than was usual in one
+of his years, which might be twenty-one.</p>
+
+<p>"We have not learned your Christian name," said Jared, after
+acquaintance had been established and the youth had been duly informed
+of much family history. "I hope your parents named you Eliphalet,"
+glancing, not without reproach, at the actual owner of that appellation.</p>
+
+<p>"They spared me that infliction," answered the newcomer, laughing,
+"though they hit me pretty hard. My name is Mark"; then, perhaps noting
+the faint flush upon the cheek of one of the members of the group, "I
+beg pardon; I should have been more respectful of a respectable family
+name, which may be borne by some one of you."</p>
+
+<p>"Nobody bears it; you are to be congratulated," observed Monsieur
+firmly. The Reverend Jared looked grieved, but said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>Mark Claghorn informed his auditors&mdash;there was no escaping the
+examination of the Professor&mdash;that he was a student at Heidelberg, that
+his mother sojourned there with him, that she was a widow, with an
+adopted daughter, a distant connexion, named Paula; and having learned
+that the entire party was bound for that city he expressed the hope that
+all these wandering offshoots of the Claghorn family might there meet
+and become better acquainted.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE DIVERSIONS OF THE CLAGHORNS.</h3>
+
+
+<p>A good-humored widow, fair, and if mature, not old, and with the
+allurement of the possession of boundless wealth; two lovely maids; a
+brace of well-disposed young men, of whom one was strikingly beautiful
+and guileless, the other less comely as less innocent, yet in these
+respects not deficient, and the heir of millions; finally, a genial
+theologian and a philosopher, summer and Heidelberg&mdash;given these
+components and it must be confessed that the impromptu reunion of the
+Claghorns promised present enjoyment and gratifying memories for the
+future. The various members of the clan acted as if they so believed and
+were content. There were moments, indeed, when the genial Jared was
+moved to bewail the absence of Miss Achsah Claghorn, as being the only
+notable member of the family not present. The philosopher admitted a
+youthful acquaintance with the lady in question, who was his aunt, and
+echoed the Professor's eulogy, but evinced resignation. To the others,
+except to Leonard, who had evidently been taught to revere Miss Achsah,
+she was personally unknown, hence the loss occasioned by her absence was
+by them unfelt.</p>
+
+<p>"She is greatly exercised just now," observed Jared, "by an event which
+possesses interest for all of us, and which ought to especially interest
+you, 'Liph."</p>
+
+<p>"Salvation for the heathen by means of moral pocket handkerchiefs?"
+drawled the philosopher, secretly annoyed by the clergyman's persistent
+use of his discarded Christian name.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>She</i> says a sacrilegious scheme; nothing short of the desecration of
+your namesake's grave," retorted the Professor.</p>
+
+<p>The party was grouped on the great terrace of the castle, against the
+balustrade of which the clergyman leaned as he addressed his audience
+with somewhat of the air of a lecturer, an aspect which was emphasized
+by his use of a letter which he had drawn from his pocket, and to which
+he pointed with his long forefinger.</p>
+
+<p>"You are all doubtless aware," he observed, "that Miss Achsah is the
+sister of the late Reverend Eliphalet Claghorn, father of our cousin and
+friend here present" (indicating Monsieur, who bowed to the speaker),
+"and, as the sister of your deceased husband, Mrs. Joseph, she is your
+sister-in-law."</p>
+
+<p>The lady smilingly assented to a proposition indisputable, and which
+probably contained no element of novelty to her; while Jared informed
+Mark and Natalie that the writer of the letter in his hand was aunt to
+the youth and great-aunt to the maiden. "She is also cousin to me, and
+in a further remove to Leonard," and having thus defined the status of
+Miss Claghorn, he proceeded to explain that he had reminded his hearers
+of the facts for the reason that the matter concerning which the lady's
+letter treated was of interest to all present, "except to you, my dear,"
+he added sympathizingly to Paula, "you not being a Claghorn."</p>
+
+<p>"We compassionate you, Mademoiselle," observed the philosopher to the
+damsel, "and I am sure," he added in a lower tone, "you are sorry for
+us." To which, Paula, who did not quite understand the philosopher,
+responded only with a smile and a blush.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Achsah's letter," continued the Professor, ignoring the by-play,
+and addressing Mrs. Joe, is dated two months since, and runs thus:</p>
+
+<p>"'I wrote in my last of the strange events taking place in Easthampton.
+At that time there were only rumors; now there are facts to go upon. The
+tract given by our ancestor to the Lord is at this moment the property
+of a New York lawyer. You know that I long ago tried to buy the tomb and
+was refused. The trustees assure me that it will not be desecrated, that
+the purchaser promised of his own accord that the sacred dust should not
+be disturbed. I told them that they might advantageously take lessons in
+reverence from the lawyer, so there is a coolness between the trustees
+and myself.' (I am really very sorry for that," muttered the reader
+parenthetically)&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"As I understand," interrupted Mrs. Joe, "the land was owned by the
+Seminary, and the Seminary which is now in Hampton was to have been
+built upon it. Is that what my sister-in-law means by saying it was
+given to the Lord?"</p>
+
+<p>"Her view is not exactly correct," replied the Professor. "I am myself
+one of the trustees. Possibly, Eliphalet Claghorn hoped that the
+Seminary would eventually be erected upon the land he gave toward its
+foundation. Evidently his successors, the fathers of the church,
+preferred Hampton to Easthampton."</p>
+
+<p>"In those days Easthampton was a busy mart of trade&mdash;they <i>do</i> say the
+slave trade," observed the philosopher. "Hampton, as a secluded village,
+not liable to incursions of enslaved heathen, godless sailors or godly
+traders, was better fitted for pious and scholastic meditation, and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Now the conditions are reversed," interrupted Jared; "Hampton is a
+considerable city, Easthampton a quiet suburb."</p>
+
+<p>"Does Miss Achsah say what the lawyer intends to do with his purchase?"
+asked Mrs. Joe.</p>
+
+<p>"No doubt he represents a concealed principal," suggested the
+philosopher, "probably a rival institution&mdash;a Jesuit College."</p>
+
+<p>Jared turned pale. "You don't really suppose, 'Liph&mdash;but, no! I am sure
+my co-trustees could not be taken in."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Joe cast a reproachful glance at the philosopher. "Miss Achsah
+would surely have detected a Jesuit plot had there been one," she
+observed encouragingly. "But why is she so indignant?"</p>
+
+<p>"She has long wanted to purchase the ground about the tomb," replied
+Jared. "Naturally, she feels aggrieved that it will come into the hands
+of a stranger. The trustees, to my knowledge, tried to retain it, with
+the rest of the waste ground, and to sell only the old wharves and
+houses, but the lawyer insisted; in fact, paid a high price for the
+waste land which includes the grave."</p>
+
+<p>"Mysterious, if not Jesuitical," murmured Beverley; but the clergyman
+affected not to hear.</p>
+
+<p>"Has Miss Achsah no knowledge of the intentions of the purchaser?" asked
+the lady.</p>
+
+<p>"This is what she says," answered the Professor, consulting the letter:</p>
+
+<p>"'The trustees conceal the purpose for which the land is wanted, but I
+forced the information from Hacket when I informed him that, if I so
+desired, I could give the management of my affairs to young Burley. At
+this, Mr. Hacket came down from his high horse and informed me in
+confidence that the lawyer is to build a grand residence at the Point,
+and will spend an immense amount of money. All of which is not
+reassuring, if true. Although the place has been shamefully neglected, I
+was always glad to know that the Tomb was there, solitary amid the
+crags; only the sea-roar breaking the silence. I suppose there will be
+other sounds now, not so pleasant to think about.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Well," observed Mrs. Joe, after a pause, "let us hope that Miss Achsah
+will be reconciled after the lawyer's plans are more fully developed. He
+seems to be willing to respect the tomb."</p>
+
+<p>"What is this tomb?" asked Natalie.</p>
+
+<p>"The Tomb of Eliphalet Claghorn, the first of your race in the New
+World," explained the Professor reverently, and not without a
+reproachful glance at the philosopher, who had too evidently left his
+daughter in ignorance of much family history.</p>
+
+<p>"He came over in the Mayflower," observed Leonard in a low tone to
+Natalie; and then, to his surprise, found it necessary to explain his
+explanation, for which purpose, in company with the girl he strolled
+away.</p>
+
+<p>They paused at a little distance, and leaning upon the stone balustrade,
+looked down upon the town or at the plain beyond, or across the Neckar
+at the hills of the Philosophenweg. Here Leonard told his foreign cousin
+the story of the first Eliphalet.</p>
+
+<p>"A strange story," was her comment.</p>
+
+<p>"A noble story," he corrected.</p>
+
+<p>"All sacrifice is noble. I know a woman in extreme poverty who gave ten
+francs to regild a tawdry statue of the Virgin."</p>
+
+<p>"Deplorable!" exclaimed Leonard severely.</p>
+
+<p>"Pitiful, rather. Consider what the sum was to her! The needs she
+sacrificed&mdash;and for what?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sacrifice wasted, and degradingly wasted."</p>
+
+<p>"Wasted, doubtless; but why degradingly?"</p>
+
+<p>"Granted that your poor woman was sincere"&mdash;which, however, the speaker
+seemed to grant but grudgingly&mdash;"the sacrifice was still degrading in
+that it was made to superstition."</p>
+
+<p>She smiled. "What would my poor woman say of Grandfather Eliphalet?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's a question, you see, of the point of view," observed Mark, who had
+sauntered to where they stood.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a question of truth and falsehood," retorted Leonard a little
+stiffly, and not best pleased with the interruption of the tête-à-tête.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know the truth?"</p>
+
+<p>"God is truth."</p>
+
+<p>"A truly theological elucidation," said Mark.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you say, Cousin Natalie?" asked Leonard wistfully.</p>
+
+<p>She had been gazing across the plain at the towers of Ladenburg,
+gleaming in the glow of the setting sun. "Can anybody say?" she
+answered. "Look at the plain," she added, stretching forth her hand,
+"these battered walls, the city at our feet. How often have they been
+scorched by fire and soaked in blood; and always in the cause of that
+truth which so many said was false!"</p>
+
+<p>"Rather, because of the schemes of ambitious men," said Leonard.</p>
+
+<p>"The pretext was always religion. Priests always the instigators of the
+wars," said Mark.</p>
+
+<p>"Priests, yes, I grant you&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I include those of the Reformation. The bloodiest history of this place
+is its history since the Reformation. The source of its horrors was
+religion, always religion."</p>
+
+<p>"For which reason," retorted Leonard, "you would blame religion, rather
+than the men who made it a cloak to ambition."</p>
+
+<p>"One asks: What is religion?" said Natalie. "Catholics say of Frederick,
+who reigned here, that he was led by ambition to his fall; Protestants,
+that he fell a glorious sacrifice in the cause of truth. Who shall
+judge?"</p>
+
+<p>"False ideas of duty lead to perdition," said Leonard sententiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Which would seem to demonstrate that Frederick was in the wrong,"
+observed Mark. "That may be so, but it hardly lies in the mouth of a
+student of Hampton."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, I know that Frederick was the Protestant champion," said
+Leonard, annoyed; "but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yet he lost his cause! How can one know&mdash;how do you know the truth?"
+The girl looked up with an eager expression as she asked the question.</p>
+
+<p>"I know because I feel it," he answered in a low tone. They were solemn
+words to him, and as he uttered them a longing to show truth to this
+fair maid arose within him.</p>
+
+<p>"And if one does not know, one cannot feel," murmured Natalie sadly.
+"Catholics, Jews, Protestants, all feel and all know&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That the others are all wrong," interjected Mark.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, the others of the party were approaching, the Professor
+expatiating to Paula anent the glories of the Claghorn race; not such
+glories, as he pointed out, as those of which they saw the evidences in
+the effigies of warriors and carved armorial bearings; but higher
+glories, humble deeds on earth, of which the story illuminated the
+celestial record. The dissertation had been commenced for the general
+weal, but the widow and the philosopher had gradually dropped behind,
+leaving Paula alone to derive benefit from the lessons drawn by Cousin
+Jared from the Claghorn history as contrasted with that of the rulers of
+the Palatinate.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2>
+
+<h3>HOW A PAGAN PHILOSOPHER ENTERED THE SERVICE OF THE CHURCH.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"I fear you do not sympathize with Miss Achsah," observed the widow to
+her companion.</p>
+
+<p>"In her solicitude for the tomb of Grandfather Eliphalet? No. Reverence
+for my ancestor has diminished with age; my excellent aunt, as befits a
+lady, remains ever young and romantic."</p>
+
+<p>"She ought to appreciate the lawyer's declared intention to respect the
+grave."</p>
+
+<p>"Handsome of the lawyer, who, <i>du reste</i>, seems an anomaly."</p>
+
+<p>"How so?"</p>
+
+<p>"He pays an extravagant price for a dreary desert. He volunteers to keep
+a stranger's tomb in repair&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose I were to tell you that I am the lawyer who is to build the
+handsome residence."</p>
+
+<p>"I should feel honored by your confidence, and unreservedly put my trust
+in your motives, because they are yours."</p>
+
+<p>"But you are not surprised?"</p>
+
+<p>"Rather deeply interested, and no less solicitous."</p>
+
+<p>"Why solicitous?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because of the incongruity you present as a resident of Easthampton.
+That little town is not merely the sepulchre of Eliphalet Claghorn, but
+the grave of mirth and the social graces. Can I contemplate the
+possibility of your interment without sorrow?"</p>
+
+<p>The gentleman's tone had lapsed into tenderness; the lady smiled. "I
+believe you have not seen the place for many years," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing has prevented my doing so except my recollection of its
+attractions."</p>
+
+<p>"The ground I intend for a residence," said the lady, "has great
+natural advantages. It faces the ocean, has noble trees&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And crags and boulders, a most desolate spot."</p>
+
+<p>"Which a handsome house will adorn and make beautiful. We must live
+somewhere. If we leave California, what better place can we choose than
+the old home of my son's race, where his name has been honored for
+generations? In that region he will not be a new man."</p>
+
+<p>"An old one, assuredly, if he remains there. But he will flee from the
+home of his ancestors. The place is sunk in somnolence; one of those
+country towns that the world has been glad to forget. Rotting wharves, a
+few tumbledown warehouses, and three or four streets, shaded by trees so
+big that even the white houses with their green blinds look gloomy."</p>
+
+<p>"The wharves and warehouses are mine, and are to be pulled down. I like
+the shady streets and the white houses."</p>
+
+<p>"And their inmates?" The philosopher shuddered.</p>
+
+<p>"The Claghorn paragon, Miss Achsah, lives in one of them."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, Miss Achsah! You do not know Miss Achsah; she superintended my
+boyhood."</p>
+
+<p>"The result is a tribute to her excellence."</p>
+
+<p>The gentleman bowed. "She is a good woman&mdash;the personification of Roman
+virtue, adorned with the graces of Calvinism&mdash;but, my dear Cousin" (the
+lady was his aunt, if anything), "I put it to you. Is not personified
+virtue most admirable at a distance?"</p>
+
+<p>The lady laughed. "Possibly. But I do not expect to be reduced to
+virtuous society only, even if I am fortunate enough to prove acceptable
+in the eyes of Miss Claghorn. Our Professor assures me that the Hampton
+circle is most agreeable; and Hampton and Easthampton are practically
+one."</p>
+
+<p>"And what a one!" The philosopher shrugged his shoulders in true Gallic
+fashion. "Madame, Hampton is the home of theology&mdash;and such theology! It
+is filled with musty professors, their musty wives and awkward and
+conceited boys, in training to become awkward and conceited men.
+Remember, I was one of the horde and know whereof I speak. Think
+seriously, my dear Cousin, before you expose so beautiful a girl as
+Mademoiselle Paula, not to speak of yourself, to such an environment."</p>
+
+<p>The lady remained unmoved, though the gentleman had pleaded eloquently.
+"You are prejudiced," she answered. "Confess that there is no more
+agreeable man than our Cousin Jared; and if his son is a fair specimen
+of Hampton students, they must compare favorably with any others."</p>
+
+<p>"Which would not be saying much. Jared is, doubtless, a good fellow,
+amenable once, but now encrusted with frightfully narrow views. As to
+young Leonard, his extraordinary good looks and amiability render him
+exceptional. It is really a pity that he can't be rescued," and the
+speaker sighed.</p>
+
+<p>A sigh born of a sincere sentiment. Monsieur was at bottom good-natured,
+and it affected him disagreeably to see unusual graces doomed to a
+pulpit or a professorial chair. It was a sad waste of advantages fitted
+for better things. To dedicate to Heaven charms so apt for the world,
+seemed to him foolish, and to the devotee unfair. He felt as may feel a
+generous beauty whose day is past, and who contemplates some blooming
+maid about to enter a nunnery. "Ah! <i>Si la jeunesse savait</i>," he
+murmured.</p>
+
+<p>"You will not resolve without deliberation," he pleaded, having rendered
+to Leonard's fate the passing tribute of a sigh. "I dare not venture to
+beg you to wait until after your winter in Paris, but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But, Monsieur, my resolve is fixed, though known only to you. Work is
+already commenced. But I must request you to keep the secret from all,
+including my son. I wish to surprise him."</p>
+
+<p>"Your success is certain. It would be presumptuous to further combat
+your plans; especially"&mdash;with a graceful inclination&mdash;"since you disarm
+me by honoring me with your confidence."</p>
+
+<p>"I have a reason for that," she said frankly. "I want your aid."</p>
+
+<p>"In self-immolation! Even in that I am at your service."</p>
+
+<p>"My purpose can be explained in a few words," she said, indicating a
+chair near the balustrade, into which the philosopher gracefully sank,
+after bowing the lady into one beside it. "I wish to build a grand
+house. My son's importance in the world is an attribute of his wealth.
+This is not a fact to flaunt, but is to be considered, and one by which
+I am bound to be influenced in contemplating his future."</p>
+
+<p>"A great aid, Madame, in right conduct."</p>
+
+<p>"My son will find it a great responsibility."</p>
+
+<p>"Inheriting, as he does, your sense of duty," suggested the philosopher.</p>
+
+<p>"Precisely. Now, I have planned a career for Mark."</p>
+
+<p>There was a faint movement as of a fleeting smile behind Monsieur's
+well-trimmed moustache. The sharp-eyed lady noticed it, but was not
+disconcerted.</p>
+
+<p>"I recognize the possibility of my plans coming to naught," she said.
+"That need not prevent my attempt to realize them. I see but one career
+open to my son; he must become a statesman."</p>
+
+<p>"In Easthampton?"</p>
+
+<p>"In the United States. It is his country. Pardon me," seeing him about
+to interpose. "It is not on this point I ask the aid you are willing to
+accord. That refers to my contemplated operations in Easthampton. It
+happens, however, that my son's future will depend, in no small measure,
+upon the enterprises in question. His great need will be identification
+with local interests, to which end a fixed habitation is necessary. I
+wish to build a house which will attract attention. To put it bluntly, I
+intend to advertise my son by means of my house."</p>
+
+<p>"You will extort the sympathetic admiration of your compatriots."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall not be as frank with them as with you. You will know that mere
+display is not my object."</p>
+
+<p>"Yours merits admiration, even while it extorts regret."</p>
+
+<p>"And now you see why Easthampton is peculiarly adapted to the end in
+view. No man can point to Mark Claghorn and ask, 'Who is he?' His name
+was carved in that region two centuries since."</p>
+
+<p>"But you and your son are, I believe, liberal in your religious views.
+The Claghorns&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Have always kept the faith&mdash;with one notable exception"&mdash;the
+philosopher bowed acceptance of the compliment&mdash;"but I object to being
+called liberal, as you define the term; we are Catholics, that is to
+say, Anglicans."</p>
+
+<p>"Humph!" muttered the philosopher dubiously.</p>
+
+<p>"And I intend," pursued the lady, "to proclaim my creed by an act which
+I know is daring, but which will have the advantage of rooting my son
+and his descendants in the soil of Easthampton. I intend to build, to
+the memory of my husband, a High-Church chapel, a work of art that shall
+be unequalled in the country."</p>
+
+<p>"Daring, indeed! Rash&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Not rash; but were it so, I should still do that which I have planned.
+My husband longed to return to the home of his boyhood, had fully
+resolved on purchasing the Seminary tract. He shall sleep where his
+ancestor sleeps." She turned her head to conceal a tear; the philosopher
+turned his to conceal a smile.</p>
+
+<p>"In this pious and appropriate design, my dear Cousin," he murmured&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I shall have your sympathy; I was sure of it. I want more; I want your
+aid."</p>
+
+<p>In view of its wealthy source the suggestion was not alarming. The
+gentleman promised it to the extent of his poor powers, intimating,
+however, that connubial fidelity might conflict with maternal ambition,
+a result which he deprecated as deplorable.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Joe had, she said, fully considered that possibility. "Suppose you
+are right," she answered to the philosopher's argument, "even if Hampton
+is the home of bigotry, boldness always commands sympathy. My chapel
+will lend importance to a town which mourns a lost prestige. It will be
+talked about from one end of the State to the other; and I intend that
+the Seminary shall be my right hand, the Church&mdash;my church, my left&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And both hands full!"</p>
+
+<p>She blushed. "Of course, I shall use my advantages. The Seminary is the
+centre of much religious effort, which, as a Christian, I shall be glad
+to aid. It is the centre of influence, which I hope to share. Under my
+roof the representatives of differing creeds shall meet in harmony and
+acquire mutual respect. Should it happen that my son be politically
+objectionable because of my chapel&mdash;why, in such a condition of affairs
+the liberalism that is always latent where bigotry flourishes would
+spring to his aid, and find in him a leader."</p>
+
+<p>"Madame!" exclaimed the gentleman, "you will win."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope so," she replied, pleased at the admiration she had extorted.
+"And now, you shall be told how you can aid me. Paris is an art centre;
+there are to be found the people I shall need in regard to my plans
+concerning the chapel. I am resolved that this shall be so noble an
+edifice that the voice of detraction shall never be heard. Next winter
+we shall meet in Paris. Will you, so far as may be, prepare the way for
+my access to the places and people I desire to see?"</p>
+
+<p>"Assuredly. I shall enter upon the task assigned me with admiration for
+your plans and sincere devotion to your interests," Thus, with his hand
+upon his heart and with an inclination of true Parisian elegance, the
+philosopher entered the service of Mrs. Joe, and of the Church.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2>
+
+<h3>ART, DIPLOMACY, LOVE AND OTHER THINGS.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Thus in amity dwelt the Claghorns, employing the summer days in innocent
+diversion. Many were the expeditions to points of interest; to
+Neckarsteinach and the Robbers' Nest, to the village of Dilsberg,
+perched upon the peak which even the bold Tilly had found unconquerable
+in peasant hands; to Handschuhsheim, where sleeps the last of his race,
+the boy-lord slain in duel with the fierce Baron of Hirschhorn, who
+himself awaits the judgment in the crypt of St. Kilian, at Heilbronn,
+holding in his skeleton hand a scroll, telling how the Mother's Curse
+pursued him to where he lies; to the Black Forest, now so smiling, but
+which Cæsar found dark, cold and gloomy, with its later memories of
+ruthless knights whose monuments are the grim ruins that crown the
+vineclad hills, and with present lore of gnomes and brownies. In these
+simple pleasures youth and maiden, philosopher, theologian and worldly
+widow joined with the emotions befitting their years and
+characteristics. To Natalie it was a time of intense delight, shared
+sympathetically by Paula, but more serenely. Mark enjoyed keenly, yet
+with rare smiles and with an underlying seriousness in which an observer
+might have detected a trace of the trail of the Great Serpent. Leonard,
+seldom absent from the side of his French cousin, delighted in the novel
+scenes and the companionship, but at times was puzzled by Natalie's
+capacity to live in a past that, as he pointed out, was better dead,
+since in its worst aspect it had been a time of barbarism, in its best
+of fanaticism. He could not understand the longing and liking for a day
+when if knights were bold they were also boorish, when if damosels were
+fair they were also ignorant of books, and perchance of bathtubs. He
+stared in innocent wonder at Natalie's exclamation of deprecation and
+Mark's harsh laugh when he pointed out such undeniable facts. To him
+Hans von Handschuhsheim, lying dead upon the steps of the Church of the
+Holy Ghost, his yellow locks red with blood, and the fierce Hirschhorn
+wiping his blade as he turned his back upon his handiwork&mdash;to Leonard
+this was a drunken brawl of three centuries since, and it grieved him to
+see in Natalie a tendency to be interested in the "vulgar details of
+crime." He knew that the girl lived in the gloom of irreligion (he was
+not aware that she dwelt in the outer darkness of ignorance), and he
+sighed as he noted one result of her unhappy lack; and he never knelt at
+his bedside forgetful of the fact, or of his duty in relation thereto.</p>
+
+<p>As to the elders of the party, they enjoyed the present after the
+fashion of those whose days of dreaming have passed. Cousin Jared's
+broad smile of satisfaction was only absent when, in the heat of
+disputation, the philosopher was especially sacrilegious or aggravating,
+and even so, it was easily recalled by the tact of the widow, much of
+whose time was spent in keeping the peace between the two
+fellow-students of bygone years. As for the philosopher, he secretly
+pined for the Boulevard, though he, too, found distraction, one favorite
+amusement being to disturb the usual serenity of Paula by cynical
+witticisms, totally incomprehensible to the simple maiden.</p>
+
+<p>The day of separation came at length, the first to depart being the
+mature and the budding theologian. Adieux were interchanged at the
+railway station, and many hopes as to future meetings were expressed, as
+well as satisfaction that chance had brought about a reunion so
+unexpected. No doubt these expressions were sincere, yet it is possible
+that as to clergyman and philosopher, each recognized in secret that
+their real adieux had been uttered years before. Under the
+circumstances, and with Mrs. Joe as a new link, the old chain had
+served; but at heart the two were antagonists; the chain was worn out.</p>
+
+<p>"Not altogether a bad sort, Jared," observed M. Claghorn, as he walked
+from the station and by the side of Mrs. Joe along the Anlage.</p>
+
+<p>"A thoroughly good fellow."</p>
+
+<p>He smiled. It was faint praise. He said to himself complacently that
+she would not characterize himself as "a good fellow," whereas, the
+politician at his side, however she might have described her companion,
+regarded the departed Jared as of greater value to her plans, which had
+not been confided to him, than could be the philosopher in whom she had
+confided.</p>
+
+<p>The two girls and Mark, following their elders, also interchanged views
+concerning the travelers. The verdict as to Cousin Jared, though less
+irreverently expressed, was similar to that enunciated by the widow. The
+good-hearted theologian had won the regard of all.</p>
+
+<p>"And as for Leonard," observed Paula, "he is the handsomest boy I ever
+saw."</p>
+
+<p>"And as amiable as beautiful," averred Natalie.</p>
+
+<p>"As well as a little&mdash;shall we say 'verdant'?" suggested Mark. But the
+girls either denied the verdancy, or, if they admitted the charge in
+part, maintained it was an added excellence.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, the travelers contemplated one another from opposite sides of
+their railway carriage, the consciousness of leaving a strange world and
+re-entering their old one already making itself felt. To the elder man
+the change was neither startling nor very painful, but to Leonard it was
+both. He did not try to analyze his feelings, but there was a dead
+weight at his heart, a sorrow heavier than the natural regret at
+parting. It was long before he spoke. "I am so glad that our cousin,
+Natalie, though French, is not Catholic," he said, at length.</p>
+
+<p>"I fear she is worse," was the answer.</p>
+
+<p>"What could be worse?"</p>
+
+<p>"Total unbelief," replied his father solemnly; and the weight at
+Leonard's heart grew heavier.</p>
+
+<p>During the short remainder of M. Claghorn's stay at Heidelberg&mdash;already
+prolonged far beyond the original intention&mdash;it was arranged that he
+should select for the widow suitable quarters for her winter
+establishment at Paris; and so willing was the gentleman to be of
+service, that, to his great satisfaction, he received <i>carte blanche</i>
+for the purpose, and, Natalie accompanying him, departed with the
+resolve that the owners of the Great Serpent should be lodged in
+accordance with the just demands of that magnificent reptile, having in
+view, among other aspirations, the dazzling of the House of Fleury by
+the brilliance of the House of Claghorn.</p>
+
+<p>As to those other aspirations, enough to say that they were by no means
+compatible with the loyalty he had professed for the pious plans of Mrs.
+Joe. He had not forgotten that the noble arms of the Marquise de Fleury
+were open to receive his daughter; but under existing conditions he was
+willing to be coy. He remembered with satisfaction that he had not
+irrevocably committed himself to a matrimonial alliance which still
+possessed attractions: though in the presence of the dazzling
+possibilities now offered, it behooved him to avoid precipitation. And
+so reasonable was this position that he did not hesitate to disclose it
+to the Marquise, simultaneously exculpating himself and assuaging the
+lady's resentment by dangling before her the glittering possibilities
+presented by Paula Lynford, whom he, with politic inaccuracy, described
+as the actual daughter of Mrs. Claghorn, hence inferentially a
+co-inheritor, with Mark, of the golden product of the Great Serpent.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Tiens</i>, Adolphe!" exclaimed the lady to her son, after having listened
+to the entrancing tale told by the philosopher, "Heaven has heard my
+prayers," and she repeated the unctuous story.</p>
+
+<p>"Over a million of <i>dot</i>! It is monstrous, mama."</p>
+
+<p>"For these people a bagatelle. Their gold mine yields a thousand francs
+a minute."</p>
+
+<p>"These incredible Americans!"</p>
+
+<p>"There is also a son, one Marc, about your age&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Aha, I see! M. Claghorn destines Natalie&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Precisely."</p>
+
+<p>The little lieutenant wagged his head. It was the tribute to a dying
+love. From infancy he had been taught by his mama that in Natalie he
+beheld the future mother of the de Fleurys. Since infancy he had seen
+her but rarely, and on such occasions, being admonished by his mama, had
+concealed his passion from its object; but thus repressed, it had
+bubbled forth in other channels. He had written and declaimed sonnets;
+he had shed tears to a captured photograph of Natalie in pantalettes.
+The gusts of consuming passion which, in the presence of his <i>amis de
+college</i>, had swept sirocco-like across his soul, had extorted the sigh
+of envy and the tear of sympathy; from other friends, notably from
+Celestine, Claire and Annette, these manifestations had extorted shrieks
+of laughter, which, however, had moved him, not to indignation, but to
+pity, for in these damsels he saw but butterflies of love, unable to
+comprehend a <i>grande passion</i>.</p>
+
+<p>It was, then, not without a fitting and manly sigh that the Marquis de
+Fleury surrendered the love of his youth in obedience to his mama and
+the motto of his house, which was "Noblesse Oblige," and, having
+procured from Natalie a photograph of Paula, he did homage before it as
+to "<i>la belle Lanforre</i>" in person, besides altering an old sonnet which
+had already seen service, and finding that Lynford, or as he would have
+it, "Lanforre," rhymed sufficiently well with Amor.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, the philosopher having diplomatically engaged the services of
+the Marquise, the noble lady proceeded to perform with zeal the task
+assigned her. <i>La belle France</i>, home of romance and last citadel of
+chivalry, is also business-like, and its sons and daughters of whatever
+rank are deft manipulators of the honest penny. In negotiating for the
+luxurious apartment of a diplomat about to proceed to Spain for a
+sojourn of some months, and in dealing with furnishers of all
+description, from laundry to livery men, the noble lady provided herself
+with pocket-money for some time to come; a seasonable relief to the
+over-strained resources of the House of Fleury.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Tiens</i>," exclaimed Adolphe to his mama, Mrs. Claghorn being already
+installed in the diplomatic quarters, "this desire of Madame Zho to
+inspect churches&mdash;how do you explain it?"</p>
+
+<p>"She is <i>dévote</i>. Doubtless she has sinned. She wishes to erect in her
+own country an expiatory chapel."</p>
+
+<p>Which explanation, evolved from information derived from the
+philosopher, aided by the speaker's fancy, elucidated the mystery
+contained in the patronymic "Lanforre," borne by Paula. "<i>Sans doute</i>,"
+mused the Marquise, "<i>la mère</i>, being American, was <i>divorcée</i>. The
+daughter is the child of the first husband." Which theory sufficed
+until the later arrival of Mark, who, as being palpably older than
+Paula, drove the lady to evolve another, which, fortunately, in the
+interest of harmony, was not confided to "Madame Zho," but which not
+only explained, but demanded the expiatory chapel.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Claghorn threw herself into her pious work with a zeal which
+extorted the approbation of the Marquise, who, as we know, was herself a
+religious woman, but which to the philosopher was less admirable, since
+it interfered with deep-laid plans with which it was incompatible. He
+was somewhat consoled, however, by the fact that the lady's course
+facilitated an intimacy which was favorable to the realization of less
+secret hopes; wherefore he vied with the Marquise in forwarding the
+pious cause of the widow by surrounding that lady with an artistic host,
+whereof the members received comforting orders for plans and paintings,
+designs and drawings, and were refreshed by a golden shower whereof the
+Marquise had her quiet but legitimate share.</p>
+
+<p>The philosopher contented himself with the post of chief adviser and
+sole confidant of the beneficent lady. For, though her intention to
+erect a chapel could not be concealed, the locality of the realization
+of her plans remained a secret, and was, in fact, privately regarded by
+Mark,&mdash;where the philosopher hoped it would remain,&mdash;as poesy hath it,
+in the air.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, the comparative freedom of intercourse which reigned among
+the younger members of the party was approved by the Marquise as an
+American custom sanctioned, under the circumstances, by heaven, as an
+aid in its answer to her prayers; but the little lieutenant, like a dog
+that has slipped its leash, was puzzled by an unaccustomed liberty, and
+found himself unable to conduct himself gracefully in a novel role. He
+knew that the joyous freedom befitting intercourse with Claire and
+Celestine was not the tone for present conditions, but for similar
+conditions he knew no other. If, after preliminary negotiation on the
+part of his elders, he had been introduced into the presence of the
+object of his love, himself clad <i>en frac</i>, and had found his adored
+robed in white and carefully disposed upon a fauteuil&mdash;with the
+properties thus arranged, he felt he could have borne himself worthily
+as one acceptable and with honorable intentions. But thus to be allowed
+to approach the object of a passion (which, he assured his mama, was now
+at a white heat), to converse familiarly, surrounding ears being
+inattentive and surrounding eyes uninterested; to be expected to
+interchange views freely pronounced by lips such as he had supposed were
+silent until unsealed by matrimony&mdash;these things puzzled and embarrassed
+him. Perhaps it was fortunate that such attempts as he made to tell his
+love were not understood by the object of his devotion. Paula's
+understanding of French, though it had achieved plaudits and prizes at
+school, did not suffice for the purpose, and the lieutenant was innocent
+of any modern language other than his own, while against his frequent
+efforts of an ocular character Paula's serenity was proof, though
+occasionally disturbed by the manifestations of that which she supposed
+was a severe nervous disorder of the eyes of her companion, and for
+which she pitied him; and, as to the sonnet which he slipped into her
+hand, it being beyond her construing powers, she handed it to Mrs. Joe,
+who read it and laughed.</p>
+
+<p>But though she laughed at a production designed to draw tears, but for
+it, she had probably paid little heed to an occurrence which about this
+time attracted her attention.</p>
+
+<p>She was in the Church of St. Roch, Paula at her side, and, near at hand,
+Mark and Natalie. St. Roch is an ancient and gloomy edifice, and the
+lady had found no suggestions for her chapel in its sombre interior. She
+turned to leave, when her attention was arrested by a tableau. Natalie's
+hand rested upon Mark's shoulder, and both stood as if transfixed, and
+gazing at something which Mrs. Joe could not see.</p>
+
+<p>Had it not been for the sonnet and the reflections to which it had given
+rise, she would have at once admitted the palpable fact that the girl,
+absorbed by that upon which she gazed, was oblivious of the touch with
+which she had involuntarily arrested the steps of her companion. With
+head bent forward, her faculties were enchained by that which she saw
+with eyes in which wonder, compassion and wistful yearning were
+combined.</p>
+
+<p>It was a young woman upon whom the girl's rapt gaze rested. She had been
+kneeling at the grating of a confessional from which the priest had just
+departed. A smothered cry, and the abandon with which the penitent had
+thrown herself upon the stone floor of the mural chapel, had attracted
+Natalie's attention, and unconsciously she had laid her hand on Mark's
+shoulder to arrest steps which might disturb that which, at first
+supposed to be devotion, was quickly recognized as the agony of grief.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment the observers thought the woman had fainted, so still she
+lay after that smothered cry, and Natalie had taken a step forward to
+lend aid, when a convulsive shudder shook the prostrate form, and then
+the woman rose to her knees. Dry-eyed, her long, black hair hanging in
+disorder, her white face and great, dark eyes gleaming from beneath
+heavy brows and long silken lashes, she knelt, holding high a photograph
+upon which she gazed, a living statue of woe.</p>
+
+<p>Mark was hardly less moved than Natalie, but more quickly remembered
+that he, at least, had no business with this sorrow. As he moved, the
+unconscious hand of his companion fell from his shoulder, and in the
+same moment the mourner rose and her eyes met Natalie's.</p>
+
+<p>Dignified by grief, she was a majestic woman, and handsome; probably
+handsomer in her disorder than under the aspect of every day. Perhaps
+she instantly read the sympathy in the eyes, no less beautiful than her
+own, which were turned upon her.</p>
+
+<p>"You suffer!" exclaimed Natalie involuntarily.</p>
+
+<p>"And you rejoice," replied the other, indicating Mark.</p>
+
+<p>"I have but this." She displayed the colored photograph she had held
+toward heaven. A startled exclamation broke from Mark, as he looked.</p>
+
+<p>"He is dead," said the woman. "To-day was to have been our wedding day,
+and he is dead." The tears welled up in the listeners' eyes; the speaker
+was tearless, but the silent sympathy impelled her to go on.</p>
+
+<p>"Three months we lived together," she continued, with Gallic frankness
+as to domestic details. "His father refused consent, but to-day, his
+birthday, he would have been free: he is dead. His mother pities me,"
+the woman went on. "She has known love. She promised consolation in
+confession&mdash;as if a priest could know!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yet they say that in religion," Natalie commenced timidly&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"There is but one religion&mdash;Love!" interrupted the other. "You will
+know. He"&mdash;her glance indicated Mark&mdash;"will be your teacher."</p>
+
+<p>Mark glanced hastily at his cousin. She seemed oblivious of the woman's
+words. He moved further away. After awhile Natalie slowly followed; the
+woman left the church.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you notice," asked Mark, as Natalie rejoined him, "how strikingly
+that portrait resembled Leonard?"</p>
+
+<p>She made no answer. Other words than his were ringing in her ears:
+"There is but one religion&mdash;Love! He will be your teacher," and even
+while she sorrowed for the sorrow she had witnessed, a strange thrill
+passed through her&mdash;was it pain, was it joy?</p>
+
+<p>The party left the church. Natalie sought the side of Mrs. Joe, leaving
+Mark to walk with Paula. The elderly lady asked her who was the person
+with whom she had talked. Natalie replied that the woman's name was
+Berthe Lenoir, and that she wished to be the speaker's maid, and she
+narrated some part of the history that had been briefly told to her.</p>
+
+<p>"But, my dear," was the comment, "your father must make inquiry as to
+her fitness."</p>
+
+<p>"That, of course," was the answer, and then she was silent. Within a
+week Berthe Lenoir entered her service, a woman, who by reason of her
+capacity, soon gained the general approval; and for other reasons, the
+special approval of a lover of the beautiful. "Her eyes," observed the
+lieutenant, "are the eyes which shape destinies."</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, other eyes, belonging to one who believed it in her power to
+shape destinies, were watchful. Mrs. Joe had long since resolved that to
+be an American statesman, Mark needed an American wife, and since she
+had herself trained one for the position, she had no desire to see her
+labors rendered fruitless. It had needed merely the opening of her eyes
+to enable her to discern that there were other schemes worthy of her
+attention, besides that one of the philosopher, of which she herself was
+the object, and which, though the gentleman had supposed it hidden, had
+been patent to the lady, serving to amuse while it benefited her. She
+promptly averted the danger to her plans by confiding to the Marquise
+her intentions with regard to Mark and Paula. The noble lady regarded
+such matters as entirely controllable by parental edict, and at once
+resumed negotiations with the philosopher, who, in the belief that
+surrender of his hopes in regard to his daughter would tend to further
+those he cherished in respect to himself, acquiesced gracefully in the
+inevitable; and there being no ground for further delay, the de
+Fleury-Claghorn treaty was duly ratified, to remain, however, a secret
+for the present from all the juniors of the party, except from the
+lieutenant, whom it was necessary to inform of the need of a
+re-transference of his affections. He submitted with sorrow. The charms
+of Paula had, as he confided to his mama, made an impression on his
+heart which only active service could efface. As to resisting destiny,
+it never entered his thoughts. Paula was for Mark, Natalie for him.
+There might be consolation. "With such wealth," he suggested, "they will
+surely add to her dowry."</p>
+
+<p>"Let us hope so," replied the Marquise. "Our Cousin Beverley will do
+what is possible. Meanwhile, be as charming as possible to Madame Zho
+and to Marc, who will have it all."</p>
+
+<p>"Such luck is iniquitous! Well, since my marriage is deferred, you will
+consent that I go to Africa. Love is denied me; I must seek glory.
+<i>Tiens, je suis Francais!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>Long before this, Mrs. Joe had exacted from Mark a promise to study at
+the University with reasonable diligence. The promise had been kept. A
+new semester was about to commence; he was anxious to take the doctoral
+degree, hence it was necessary for him to return to Heidelberg. He
+hardly regretted it. Of late, constraint had seemed to pervade the
+intercourse which had been hitherto so unrestrained, and, above all,
+Natalie had been unusually reserved. It was not without some regret that
+he departed, yet on the whole content to return to <i>Burschenfreiheit</i>
+and fidelity to the creed whose chief article is disdain of
+philistinism.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Joe was glad to see him depart before she left for America, where
+the surprise intended for him was progressing. But it might take more
+time to build a house than make a Doctor of Civil Law; the question was
+how to prevent his premature home-coming.</p>
+
+<p>"I will keep him," said the philosopher, in answer to her confidence as
+to her misgivings. "He has promised to visit me when he leaves the
+University. When I get him I will hold him."</p>
+
+<p>The lady looked at the gentleman questioningly.</p>
+
+<p>"Do not doubt my good faith," he murmured.</p>
+
+<p>"And you will come with him to America," she suggested. "Perhaps you can
+induce the Marquise. And the little soldier&mdash;surely, he will brave the
+seas if your daughter does so!"</p>
+
+<p>"An invasion by the Gauls. Why not? I for one shall be enchanted to see
+the result of your energy and taste."</p>
+
+<p>"And Natalie shall see the Tomb in which she is so deeply interested,
+while you lay your homage at the feet of Miss Achsah and so fulfill a
+long-neglected duty."</p>
+
+<p>"And at the feet of the chatelaine of Stormpoint. I am impatient for the
+day." And it was so arranged, and the lady, declining the proffered
+escort of Monsieur, left Paris for Havre, accompanied by Paula.</p>
+
+<p>"A good fellow!" she thought, as she leaned back in the coupé, applying
+to the philosopher that very term which he had flattered himself she
+would not apply, "but too anxious to believe that I am his cousin and
+not his aunt."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2>
+
+<h3>A CONFERENCE OF SPINSTERS CONCERNING A RUNAWAY DAMSEL.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Five years have passed since the Claghorn reunion at Heidelberg. The
+Professor and philosopher have journeyed to that world concerning which
+one of the two claimed certain knowledge, and which the other regarded
+as unknowable. Thither we cannot follow them, but since men do not live
+for a day, but for all time, we shall doubtless come upon indications
+that the lives of these two, the things they said and did, are forces
+still. Meanwhile, we must concern ourselves with the living, and of
+those with whom we have to do, no one is more noteworthy than Achsah
+Claghorn.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Claghorn was, as the representative of an ancient and very
+theological family, a citizen of no little note in Easthampton, the
+shady and quiet suburb of the city of Hampton. Her spotless white house
+was large; its grounds were, compared with those of her neighbors,
+large; the trees in the grounds were very large; the box-plants were
+huge of their kind. Miss Achsah herself was small, but by reason of her
+manner, which was positive and uncompromising, impressive. She lived as
+became her wealth and position, comfortably and without undue regard for
+conventionalities. She could afford so to live and had been able to
+afford it for many years; ever since she had shared with her brother,
+the Reverend Eliphalet, the bounty left to them by that other and
+younger brother who had died in California. On the receipt of that
+bounty she had retired from her position as schoolmistress, had bought
+the large, white house, and, together with Tabitha Cone, had undertaken
+to live as she pleased, succeeding in so doing more satisfactorily than
+is usual with those fortunate enough to be able to make similar
+resolves. Perhaps this was because her desires were more easily
+attainable than the desires pertaining to such conditions usually are.</p>
+
+<p>The position of Tabitha Cone was nominally one of dependence, but, with
+a praiseworthy desire to rise superior to such a status, Tabitha
+persistently strove to rule her benefactress, which attempts were met
+with frequent rebellion. Miss Achsah was, at least intermittently,
+mistress of her own house; and both ladies had a lurking consciousness
+that she, Achsah, to wit, had reserves of strength which would enable
+her to become so permanently, if she were to develop a serious intention
+to that end. Both ladies, however, shrank from a struggle with that
+possible termination, much enjoying life as they lived it, and with no
+desire to terminate an invigorating and pleasing warfare.</p>
+
+<p>For the rest, Miss Claghorn permitted no slurs to be cast upon her
+companion, except such as she herself chose to project. "Tabitha Cone
+and I sat on the same bench at school; together we found the Lord. I
+knew of no difference between us in those days; I know of none now,
+except that I had a rich brother."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure, Miss Claghorn, I quite agree with your view," observed
+Paula, to whom the words were addressed.</p>
+
+<p>"Which I hope is a satisfaction to you," replied the lady, her manner
+indicating complete indifference as to the fact. "If that is so, why do
+you object to my consulting Tabitha Cone about this letter?" looking
+over her spectacles at the pretty face.</p>
+
+<p>"I hoped that my plan would meet your views, and then such consultation
+would perhaps be unnecessary, and&mdash;and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And?" echoed Miss Achsah in an uncompromising tone, and regarding her
+visitor still more sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"You know, Miss Claghorn, you sent for me, and were kind enough to say
+you desired my advice&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Information, not advice."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you think Tabitha Cone will derive a wrong impression if she
+reads that letter?" continued the persistent Paula, "Is that quite
+fair?"</p>
+
+<p>"Tabitha Cone understands English&mdash;even Ellis Winter's&mdash;he says plainly
+enough that the girl is an atheist&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Not that, Miss&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"A heathen, then&mdash;a damned soul" (Paula started palpably). "Splitting
+hairs about terms don't alter the essential fact."</p>
+
+<p>"Nobody can deplore the truth more than I; but to risk its being made a
+subject of gossip&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Tabitha Cone is not given to tattle. She may gossip with Almighty God
+about this matter. She has known Him for many years."</p>
+
+<p>Paula shuddered. To know Omnipotence in this blunt fashion grated on her
+nerves. "I have humbled myself many times and sought her eternal welfare
+in prayer," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope your condescension may ultimately benefit her," snapped the old
+lady. "I can't say I have noticed any change, certainly no change for
+the better."</p>
+
+<p>"I referred to Natalie."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, and so that is the way to pronounce the outlandish name. My nephew
+Eliphalet's mother's name was Susan; my own name has been in the family
+two hundred years&mdash;well, and if Ellis Winter is right, your humblings
+seem to have done but little good. Perhaps those of the despised Tabitha
+Cone may have more effect, even if unaccompanied with flummery&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Claghorn, you are not generally unjust."</p>
+
+<p>"Never. But I get tired of millinery in religion. Ah! if only you would
+humble yourself&mdash;but there! I suppose you intone the prayer for your
+daily bread. Pah!"</p>
+
+<p>Paula rose majestically.</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down, child; I didn't mean to offend you. (The Lord has infinite
+patience and pity, and so for imbeciles, I suppose)" she said
+parenthetically and in a subdued tone, which was not heard by the
+visitor, who sat down, having an object in being both meek and
+persistent, a fact of which Miss Claghorn was aware. It was a sore
+temptation to let Paula have her wish, but, all the while she knew she
+must finally resolve to do her duty. It was that knowledge which gave
+acrimony to her speech.</p>
+
+<p>"Paula," she said, "I ought not to have asked you to come here about
+this matter. I knew what you would desire and hoped you would be able to
+persuade me; I ought to have known myself better. I must do my duty; she
+must come to me."</p>
+
+<p>"But, dear Miss Claghorn&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"She is a Claghorn, and&mdash;dreadful as it is&mdash;a heathen as well, and alone
+in the world. I must do my duty; it is not easy, I assure you."</p>
+
+<p>Paula quite believed this, and the belief did not add to her hope of
+success. When Miss Claghorn desired to do things which, in the eyes of
+others, were better left undone, she was apt to see her duty in such
+action. It was equally true that her duty being visible, she would do
+it, even if disagreeable. But the duty now before her was, for many
+reasons, very disagreeable, indeed, and strictly just as she was, she
+was but human, and the righteous indignation she felt for her own
+vacillation fell naturally in part upon Paula.</p>
+
+<p>"At least do not let that letter prejudice you," urged Paula. "She is a
+sweet girl, as good as gold."</p>
+
+<p>"Very likely. Gold is dross. Good girls do not deny their Maker."</p>
+
+<p>This was indisputable. Paula sighed. "I am very sorry we cannot have
+her," was all she said.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Claghorn looked at her thoughtfully and with some inward qualms at
+her own harshness. There was an opportunity to seasonably drop a word
+which for some time she had been considering as ready to be dropped, and
+which, if heeded, might have some consolation for the girl before her.</p>
+
+<p>"You can have her&mdash;on one condition. Come now, Paula!"</p>
+
+<p>"What is that?" asked the girl, hope in her eyes; some misgiving, too,
+for there was that in Miss Claghorn's expression which aroused it.</p>
+
+<p>"Stop your shilly-shally with that little milliner-man, Arthur Cameril,
+and marry him. Then Natalie can pay you a good long visit."</p>
+
+<p>This was more than a Christian ought to bear. Paula could do her duty,
+too.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Claghorn, Father Cameril has taken the vow of celibacy. The fact
+is well known. I am contemplating the same. I wish you good-morning,"
+and so Paula majestically sailed away.</p>
+
+<p>"Hoity-toity!" exclaimed Miss Achsah, as her visitor let herself out of
+the front door; and then, not disturbed, but in the belief that she had
+performed another disagreeable duty, she commenced the re-perusal of a
+letter in her hand. Which letter was as follows:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"Dear Miss Claghorn&mdash;Your grand-niece, Natalie, has arrived in
+this country. She naturally at once communicated with me, and I
+find her situation somewhat perplexing. To speak frankly, she
+has run away from home. It was her father's wish that she
+remain in the household of the Marquise de Fleury, and she has
+lived with that lady since Mr. Claghorn's death. But it seems
+that for some time past the guardian has tried to induce the
+ward to marry against her inclinations.</p>
+
+<p>"I think there can be no doubt that the influences brought to
+bear on your grand-niece amounted to persecution, and I am
+disposed to regard her action as justified, having received
+from the Marquise (who was apprised of her destination by your
+niece) a letter, written in such a tone as to leave no doubt in
+my mind that the statements made to me by Miss Natalie are
+correct.</p>
+
+<p>"The plan of your grand-niece is to live independently in this
+country. For the present this would be most imprudent. She is
+very young, and though by no means inexperienced in the ways of
+the world, is very foreign. She is quite resolute in her
+determination, and is aware that her property, in my charge,
+aside from some French possessions, is ample for her support.
+Do not gather that she is not amenable to advice, or is
+inclined to be obstinate. This is not the case, but she has
+evidently had an unpleasant experience of guardianship, and is
+quite resolved under no circumstances to permit any disposition
+of herself matrimonially. This resolve is the foundation of her
+intention to remain independent, an intention which no doubt
+will be easily combated with her advance in knowledge of our
+American customs in this regard.</p>
+
+<p>"It would be unfair, having shown you the only shadows
+connected with Beverley's daughter, were I to withhold the
+commendation justly due her. With such acquaintance as I had
+formed with her on the occasion of my visit to France, I
+gathered a good opinion of one whom, indeed, I only knew as a
+child. That opinion has been strengthened by occasional
+correspondence and by the personal observation of the last
+fortnight. She seems to be a charming girl, remarkably
+beautiful, with a mind of her own, and, doubtless, a will of
+her own; nevertheless, a person that would be an acquisition in
+any household. Were I blessed with a domestic circle, I should
+be well content to have Miss Natalie enter it; but, as you
+know, I am not so fortunate.</p>
+
+<p>"I hesitate to mention one other detail, yet feel that you
+ought to be fully informed; and while I can, believe me,
+appreciate the standpoint from which you will regard that which
+I have to disclose, I beg you to take a charitable view of a
+matter which, to one of your rooted and cherished convictions,
+will be of transcendent importance. It is that your grand-niece
+is in religion a free-thinker, and rejects the Christian faith.</p>
+
+<p>"To you, as the representative of the Claghorn family, a family
+which for generations has upheld the standard of purest
+orthodoxy, this information will come as a shock. Yet when I
+assure you that Miss Natalie's views (such as they are) are
+probably held rather from a sense of filial duty and affection
+than from conviction, the facts will, I am sure, appeal to your
+compassion, as well as to that stern sense of duty and justice
+so admirably exhibited in your life. For many years I have been
+aware that the late Beverley had trained his daughter in
+accordance with a theory which repudiated tenets sacred in your
+eyes. My only reason for never imparting the fact to you was
+because the knowledge could only be a grief to one who held the
+Claghorn traditions in reverence. The interest you occasionally
+displayed concerning one who had chosen to be an exile was, I
+believe, always satisfied as far as in my power, except as to
+this one particular. I regret now that I withheld a knowledge
+which circumstances have made important. I did wrong, but I
+need not ask you not to connect my wrong-doing with the claims
+of your grand-niece.</p>
+
+<p>"Kindly consider this letter carefully and let me hear from you
+soon. Perhaps an invitation to spend a part or all of the
+coming summer with you would lead to an easy solution of the
+difficulties presented. Your grand-niece is at present staying
+with my friend, Mrs. Leon, who will be pleased that she remain;
+but I foresee that the young lady herself will object to that.</p>
+
+<p>"With regards to Miss Cone, believe me,</p>
+
+<p>"Respectfully yours, <span class="smcap">Ellis Winter</span>."</p></blockquote>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>A MAIDEN FAIR, A MODERN EARLY FATHER AND A THEOLOGIAN.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Paula emerged from the White House in an un-Christian frame of mind. The
+fact might to an ordinary sinner seem pardonable, and Paula herself,
+though by no means an ordinary sinner, thought so, too. "Impertinent
+bigot!" In these unusually emphatic words she mentally expressed her
+opinion of Achsah Claghorn.</p>
+
+<p>From several points of view Paula was not an ordinary sinner.
+Externally, she was a very pleasing one, being in all things alluring to
+the eye. So nicely adjusted were her physical proportions that it could
+not be said that she was either tall or short, plump or meagre. A
+similar neutrality characterized the tints of her skin and hair. Her
+cheeks were never red, yet never pale; the much-used adjective "rosy"
+would not properly describe the dainty tinge that, without beginning or
+end, or line of demarcation, redeemed her face from pallor. Her nose was
+neither long nor short, upturned or beak-like, and while no man could
+say that it was crooked and remain a man of truth, yet would no
+truth-lover say that it was straight. In all respects a negative nose,
+in no respect imperfect. Her skin, ears, neck, hands, feet&mdash;all were
+satisfying, yet not to be described by superlatives. Her hair was
+neither chestnut nor yellow, nor quite smooth nor kinky, but in color
+and adjustment restful; her eyes were nearly violet, and their brows and
+lashes just sufficiently decided to excite no comment. Paula's mouth was
+perhaps the only feature which, apart from the charming whole, demanded
+notice, and he who noticed sorrowed, for it was a mouth inviting, yet
+not offering kisses.</p>
+
+<p>It is believed that it will be admitted that outwardly Paula Lynford was
+not an ordinary sinner. Nor was she such as to the inner being, if she
+herself could be believed; for at this period of her existence she was
+accustomed to introspection, and that habit had disclosed to her that
+she was very bad, indeed, "vile," as she fondly phrased it, or in
+moments of extreme exaltation, "the vilest of the vile."</p>
+
+<p>A serene consciousness of vileness was a recent growth in her bosom.
+Father Cameril (so known to a very small but devoted band of
+worshippers&mdash;to the world at large, the Reverend Arthur Cameril) was
+fond of dwelling upon human and his own vileness, and his adorers
+desired to be such as he. Nor did the Reverend Father deny them this
+delight, but rather encouraged their perception of the unworthiness
+indicated by the unpleasant word which had been caught from him by the
+dames and damsels who rejoiced in him and in their own turpitude. Father
+Cameril was, in a very limited circle, quite the rage in the vicinity.
+Since his advent spiritual titillation had been discovered in candles,
+attitudes, novel genuflexions and defiance of the Bishop, a wary old
+gentleman, who was resolved to evade making a martyr of Father Cameril,
+being, from long observation, assured that sporadic sputterings of
+ultra-ritualism were apt to flicker and die if not fanned by opposition.
+The good Father, meanwhile, unaware that the Bishop had resolved that no
+stake should be implanted for his burning, whereby he was to be an
+illumination to the Church, tasted in advance the beatitude of
+martyrdom, and reveled in mysterious grief and saint-like resignation
+and meekness, and while hopefully expectant, he added to his inner joys
+and the eccentricity of his outward man by peculiar vesture of the
+finest quality, beneath which the fond and imaginative eyes of his
+followers saw, as in a vision, a hair shirt. He was known to aspire to
+knee-breeches, and was hopefully suspected of considering a tonsure as a
+means of grace and a sign of sanctity. His little church, St. Perpetua,
+the new and beautiful edifice erected by Mrs. Joseph Claghorn, of
+Stormpoint, in memory of her husband (an offence in Miss Claghorn's
+Calvinistic eyes, and regarded askance by Leonard), was crowded every
+Sunday at Mass, a function which was also celebrated daily at an hour
+when most people were still abed; Paula always, the night watchman,
+about going off duty occasionally, and three elderly ladies, blue and
+shivering, in attendance. Father Cameril was Miss Claghorn's special
+aversion. Tabitha Cone found in him much to admire. He was a good little
+man, inordinately vain, somewhat limited in intellect, and unconscious
+of wrong-doing. He prayed that the Church might be led from the path of
+error in which she obstinately chose to remain, and, by canonizing Henry
+VIII, display works meet for repentance; in which case he would hesitate
+no longer, but return home, that is, to the maternal bosom of Rome, at
+once.</p>
+
+<p>As Paula saw the good Father coming down the street, holding in his
+yellow-gloved hand a bright-red little book, the redness whereof set off
+the delicate tint of the glove, while its gilded edges gleamed in the
+sunlight, she was more than usually conscious of the vileness which
+should have been meekness, even while her anger grew hotter at the
+insult offered by Miss Claghorn to the natty little man approaching,
+"like an early Father," she murmured, though any resemblance between the
+Reverend Arthur in kid gloves and ætat 28, and Polycarp, for instance,
+was only visible to such vision as Paula's.</p>
+
+<p>"You seem disturbed," he said, as the two gloved hands met in delicate
+pressure, and he uttered the usual sigh.</p>
+
+<p>"A cherished hope," she answered, her clear violet eyes bent downward,
+"has been dashed."</p>
+
+<p>"We must bear the cross; let us bear it worthily. I have been pained at
+not seeing you at confession, Paula. You neglect a means of lightening
+the burden of the spirit."</p>
+
+<p>"My cousin objects, Father. I owe her the obedience of a daughter."</p>
+
+<p>"You owe a higher obedience"&mdash;here his voice had that tone of sternness
+always sweet to the meek ears of his followers. "Nevertheless," he
+added, "do not act against her wish. I will, myself, see Mrs. Claghorn.
+Meanwhile, bear your burdens with resignation, always remembering the
+weakness, yea, the vileness of the human heart."</p>
+
+<p>"I strive," said Paula, looking very miserable and unconsciously taking
+an illustration from a heavily-laden washerwoman passing, "not to faint
+by the wayside, but the load of life is heavy."</p>
+
+<p>"But there are times when the heart's vileness is forgotten, the soul
+rises above its burdens and feels a foretaste of the life to come,"
+interrupted Father Cameril a little confusedly as to the senses of the
+soul. "Try to rise to those heights."</p>
+
+<p>"I do. May I ask your special intercession for a soul in darkness? One
+that I had hoped to gain."</p>
+
+<p>"Hope on and pray. I shall not forget your request. The name is&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Natalie, the daughter of Mr. Beverley Claghorn. You have heard us
+mention them. Mr. Claghorn is dead. Until now she has lived in France,
+where she was born. I hope to see her soon at Easthampton."</p>
+
+<p>"At Stormpoint! How pleasant for you! Paula, we shall rescue this dear
+child from the errors of a schismatic mother. I feel it here," and the
+Reverend Arthur indicated his bosom.</p>
+
+<p>Paula recognized in the schismatic mother the Roman Catholic Church. She
+felt it sinful to leave Father Cameril in ignorance of the facts. She
+felt it unkind to her friend to disclose them. She could sin, if hard
+pushed; she could not be unkind. She concealed the unbelief.</p>
+
+<p>"We knew them some years since in Europe," she said. "I mean Mr.
+Claghorn and Natalie. She is a sweet girl; but she will visit at Miss
+Claghorn's."</p>
+
+<p>The Reverend Arthur's face fell. Above all earthly things he dreaded
+sinners of the type of Achsah Claghorn. "The situation will be
+difficult," he murmured. "But truth will prevail," he added, more
+cheerily. "Truth must prevail."</p>
+
+<p>Which assurance made the girl uncomfortable, because she knew that his
+prayers and his labors would be directed against mere schism, whereas
+the case required the application of every spiritual engine at command.</p>
+
+<p>So that she was not sorry that he left her, after presenting her with
+the little red book and urging her to read the same.</p>
+
+<p>Stormpoint was not inaptly named. A huge crag jutting out into the sea,
+whose waves, ever darting against its granite sides, rolled off with a
+continuous muffled bellow of baffled rage, which, when the storm was
+on, rose to a roar. A cabin had once stood on the bluff, which,
+tradition asserted, had been the home of the first Eliphalet Claghorn,
+whose crumbling tomb, with its long and quaint inscription, was hard by.
+The Reverend Eliphalet slept quiet in death, but the howl of the storm
+and the roar of the waves must have kept him awake on many a night in
+life. Even the stately castle erected by Joseph Claghorn's widow often
+trembled from the shock of the blast. The region about was strewn with
+huge boulders, evidences of some long-past upheaval of nature, while
+among the crags great trees had taken root. The landscape was majestic,
+but the wind-swept soil was barren, and the place had remained a waste.
+Only a fortune, such as had been derived from the Great Serpent, could
+make the Point comfortable for habitation. But the task had been
+accomplished, and Stormpoint was the second wonder of Easthampton, the
+first being the wonderful chapel, St. Perpetua.</p>
+
+<p>Paula gloried in Stormpoint. Not for its grandeur or the money it had
+cost, but because she loved the breeze and the sea and the partial
+isolation. Even now, as she ascended the bluff by a side path, rugged
+and steep, and commenced to smell the ocean and feel its damp upon her
+cheek, the Reverend Arthur Cameril seemed less like an early Father, and
+his lemon-colored kids less impressive.</p>
+
+<p>On hearing her name called and looking up, she smiled more brightly and
+looked more beautiful than she had yet looked that day, though, from the
+moment she had emerged from her morning bath of salt water she had been
+beautiful. "Aha! Leonard, is that you?" she exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>"Where have you been?" asked Leonard, as he reached her side.</p>
+
+<p>"At Miss Claghorn's. She sent for me."</p>
+
+<p>Leonard's eyes opened wide. "Cousin Achsah sent for you! What for?"</p>
+
+<p>"She will tell you."</p>
+
+<p>"And you won't. Well, I must wait. What have you there?" taking the
+little red book from her hand. "'The Lives of the Hermits!' Oh, Paula;
+you had better read the 'Lives of the Laundresses'; these were a very
+dirty set."</p>
+
+<p>"Leonard! How can you? A clergyman, a professor of theology!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I've no objection to them except that," he answered, "and I
+wouldn't mention their favorite vanity if they had not so reveled in it
+and plumed themselves upon it. Paula, Paula," he added, more seriously,
+"Father Cameril gave you that."</p>
+
+<p>He was vexed, perhaps jealous of Father Cameril, though if so, he was
+unconscious, ascribing his vexation to a different source. He had a
+hearty contempt for the silly flummery, as he mentally described it,
+practised by Father Cameril, and he hated to know that Paula was enticed
+by it. She understood and was neither without enjoyment of his vexation
+nor resentment that he would not express it in words. She would have
+liked him to forbid the reading of the little book. It would have been a
+sign of steadfastness to disobey; it might have been a greater pleasure
+to obey.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, read the book, if you can stomach it," he said. "I doubt if you
+will derive any benefit. I must be going. When you and Cousin Achsah
+take to plotting, I must investigate. Good-bye."</p>
+
+<p>"Leonard, did you know that Natalie is in New York, that she has come to
+America to live?"</p>
+
+<p>"Natalie in New York! Your news amazes me. She will come here, of
+course?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not to Stormpoint," she answered regretfully. "To your cousin's, Miss
+Claghorn."</p>
+
+<p>He looked his surprise. "To live there! That surely will never do."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Leonard, I am so glad you agree with me. I tried to persuade Miss
+Claghorn to let her come to us. Think of it! Alone with those two old
+women and their quarrels. That gloomy house! It's dreadful!"</p>
+
+<p>"It certainly will not do for Natalie," he observed, thoughtfully. "I
+wish, Paula, my cousin had consulted me rather than you."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Leonard! You don't suppose I did not urge all I could?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's just it. Cousin Achsah is, of her kind, a very fine specimen,
+and I am her favorite and bound to respect and love her, as I do&mdash;but a
+nature like hers and one like yours are antagonistic."</p>
+
+<p>"Then, since you respect and&mdash;and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And love her, you think I don't respect and love you; but you know
+better, Paula."</p>
+
+<p>She blushed at the snare the echo of his words had led her into. He was
+not so conscious. "As I remember Natalie," he said, "she was amiable and
+nice in all points&mdash;still she and my cousin&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"They will be absolutely incomprehensible to each other," said Paula.
+"Do try and have her consent to let Natalie come to Stormpoint."</p>
+
+<p>"I will do what I can. Has Mrs. Joe invited her?"</p>
+
+<p>"She will be only too glad as soon as she knows. But the matter has been
+placed in such a light by that tiresome Mr. Winter&mdash;but there, you will
+find out everything from your cousin. Do what you can."</p>
+
+<p>"I will. What happy days they were, those days in Heidelberg."</p>
+
+<p>The violet eyes were tender with reminiscence, the pretty mouth
+seductive. "They were the happiest of my life," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"And of mine," echoed Leonard, as he walked off, having seen neither
+mouth nor eyes, but a vision of the past.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE ADVANTAGES OF TREADING THE BORDERLAND OF VICE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Among the diversions indulged in at Heidelberg, during the accidental
+reunion of the Claghorns, there had been one particularly affected by
+Professor and philosopher. The early education of these two had been
+identical; their later training had progressed on widely diverging
+lines. The Reverend Jared had continued in the path in which his
+footsteps had been placed in childhood, while Beverley had wandered far.
+Yet, being by inheritance as nearly alike as may be two who, descended
+from a common ancestor, partake of marked ancestral traits, agreement
+between them in reference to a matter wherein their views clashed was
+impossible; which fact had sufficed to lend a charm to disputation.</p>
+
+<p>A favorite theme of discussion had been discovered in the serious
+problems connected with the training of youth. The clergyman had a son
+who embodied his theories; the philosopher was the father of a daughter
+educated upon a plan of his own. Each was paternally satisfied with
+results so far, and each hoped for further development equally
+gratifying.</p>
+
+<p>The philosopher preached from a text which may be briefly stated in the
+words of the proverb, which informs us that "Familiarity breeds
+contempt." He would apply this maxim to evil and use knowledge as the
+shield of youth. Whereas the Professor, relying upon the truth contained
+in the adage, "Ignorance is bliss," and maintaining that modified bliss
+in this world and perfect bliss in the world to come are the proper
+objects of man's endeavor, logically contended that ignorance of evil, a
+thing in its nature sure to breed sorrow, was to be encouraged.</p>
+
+<p>"The true way to appreciate the dangers which must inevitably beset
+youth is to become familiar with them. Distance lends enchantment. That
+closer inspection of vice which may be derived from acquaintance with
+its borderland, wherein the feet of the novice may be taught to tread
+warily, will result in indifference, if not disgust. As long as there is
+ignorance there will be curiosity, which is more dangerous than
+knowledge." Thus had spoken the philosopher. To which the Professor had
+replied: "Yet I will not assume that you wish your daughter to tread the
+borderland of vice?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly I do; limiting her steps to the borderland of the vices to
+which she is to be exposed. I admit that a man cannot, as readily as a
+woman, take cognizance of such vices. It is my misfortune and my
+daughter's that her mother died at her birth; but I have endeavored to
+make her superior to the glaring defects of her sex. She is not petty.
+She yearns neither for bonnets nor beatitudes. Without attempting, in
+the ignorance inseparable from my sex, to instruct her in detail, I have
+always had in view the enlargement of her mind."</p>
+
+<p>"By educating her as a Frenchwoman!"</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon me, no. Much as I admire the French, I do not approve their
+system of female education, which, by the way, resembles the course you
+have pursued with your son. I do not question its frequent excellent
+results, nor can I question its failures. My daughter's schooling has
+been only partially French. Travel and indiscriminate reading&mdash;I have
+largely relied on these."</p>
+
+<p>"I am willing to admit, Cousin, that the apparent results in those
+matters which you deem of most importance ought to be gratifying. It is
+no exaggeration to say that my young cousin is a charming girl. But her
+life has not been lived."</p>
+
+<p>"No. Therefore, we cannot fairly speculate as to the outcome. Meanwhile,
+as far as my system has reached, it is gratifying, as you confess."</p>
+
+<p>"The same can be said of mine."</p>
+
+<p>"Doubtless. But has your son's life been lived? Thus far, you have as
+much reason for satisfaction as I have. I hope that you will never be
+compelled to admit that innocence, based on ignorance, is a weak barrier
+to oppose to the inevitable temptations which beset young men."</p>
+
+<p>"Innocence fortified by religious principle, early instilled," had been
+the solemn reply.</p>
+
+<p>M. Claghorn understood the solemnity and braved the possible results of
+a confession which he was willing to make rather than be further exposed
+to the occasional somewhat annoying admonitory tone of his companion.</p>
+
+<p>"I am a living example of the futility of that contention," he answered.
+"I do not wish to be understood as admitting that I have been unduly
+addicted to vice, which would not be true; but I have tasted of
+forbidden fruit. I found it unsatisfactory. I base my theory on careful
+observation and some personal experience."</p>
+
+<p>Cousin Jared groaned inwardly, but made no answer. Exhortation was on
+his tongue's end, but, as the philosopher had desired, he recognized its
+futility.</p>
+
+<p>Indulgence in wine was one of those vices which the Reverend Jared had
+found reprehensible, a practice which it grieved him to observe was
+permitted by the lax views of all those Claghorns, except himself and
+Leonard, who were sojourning together. It is not to be assumed that
+these people indulged in unseemly intoxication. Of so untoward a result
+the Professor had no fear. He objected to wine-drinking as offering an
+evil example. The fact that in so doing he discredited the first miracle
+of his Saviour was a difficulty easily surmounted by a nimble
+theologian.</p>
+
+<p>"You are so fierce about wine that one would think you had a personal
+hatred toward liquor," Beverley had said to him laughingly.</p>
+
+<p>"I have, 'Liph. Jeremiah Morley&mdash;&mdash;" He said no more, remembering who
+Jeremiah Morley had been.</p>
+
+<p>"It is fanaticism, Jared; absolutely incomprehensible. Your son, even
+though a clergyman, must live in the world. I don't say make him
+worldly, but don't let him remain in complete ignorance. He is a
+handsome fellow, amiable, intelligent&mdash;really too good for a parson."</p>
+
+<p>"Which you intended to be; which your father, grandfather and
+great-grandfather were."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't think I depreciate them. But your boy is hardly formed on the
+Claghorn pattern. He has probably more of the Morleys. His mother must
+have been a very beautiful woman, if he resembles her."</p>
+
+<p>"As good as she was beautiful," sighed the widower. "Yes, Leonard
+resembles the Morleys&mdash;the best of them."</p>
+
+<p>And so the discussion had terminated. It has been recorded here to
+indicate paternal views as to the education of youth. In the practice of
+the views he held, Professor Claghorn had been ably seconded by an
+excellent and pious wife, and had he been alive to see the result in the
+young man who had just left Paula Lynford, he must assuredly have
+observed the proved soundness of his theories and practice.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2>
+
+<h3>A YOUTH OF PROMISE, A FEMALE POLITICIAN AND A YELLOW MAN.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Paula watched Leonard until he disappeared. Then she sighed. Long ago
+Beverley Claghorn had paid a similar tribute to the charms which
+extorted the sigh. In Paula's eyes the attractions which pertained to
+Leonard were lost in the sect to which he belonged. As a priest of the
+Church (it was thus that she put it) he would have been externally
+perfect, his physical excellence of unspeakable value to the cause of
+pure truth, while his conception of the priestly role would have been
+even nobler than that of Father Cameril. Leonard would have been no meek
+saint, but a saint militant, and long ere this the Bishop would have
+been down upon him, to the episcopal discomfiture.</p>
+
+<p>If Paula grieved that Leonard labored under the disadvantage of the
+rigid practice of his denomination as to vesture and pulpit accessories,
+to those by whom such disadvantages were unrecognized his personality
+was no less persuasive of his fitness for noble deeds. As a rising
+theologian and young teacher of the divine science, he was, to those who
+watched his course, of excellent promise; destined to be a defender of
+that ancient creed which of late had been often attacked by able, if
+deluded, foes. To him orthodoxy looked with confidence, as to one who,
+when the day of battle came, would valiantly assail the enemies without,
+and confound the machinations of those within the household of faith. A
+worthy successor of his father, Professor Jared Claghorn, and to be
+greater, as better equipped to meet skeptical reasoning with reason
+clarified by faith; to demonstrate that the eye of the philosopher is
+but a feeble instrument for scrutiny of the works of God.</p>
+
+<p>He was not ignorant of the general estimate or of the hopes of his
+elders, and had long been accustomed to fit himself for the position he
+was destined to fill, but of these aspirations he was oblivious as he
+walked slowly toward the town. He had never forgotten his father's words
+as to Natalie's unbelief. They were part of the memory of her, and now
+that memory was reawakened, and the words sounded again in his ears. He
+was deeply stirred by the knowledge that an errant soul was about to
+enter the inner circle of his life. He saw the hand of Providence in the
+fact; it was for this that she had not been turned from infidelity to
+error. She would not find the way to heaven by the dim rays of the
+obscured light of Romanism, but by the purer light of a reformed and
+vitalized religion, and to him was to be given the glory of being
+heaven's instrument. He was ambitious; his eyes had long been set on
+such earthly honors as come to theologians; he was prepared to welcome
+the theological storm of which the forecasts were already visible to
+those of clear perception, such as his own. In that impending struggle
+he knew that he would bear himself worthily, yet no glory that he could
+rightly anticipate therefrom seemed now so pleasing, nor awakened more
+fervent hope than that just born within him, the hope of rescuing a
+single soul. That glory would transcend all other, for though from men
+his work might be hidden, in the eyes of God he would be a faithful and
+worthy servant, and would hear from heaven the inaudible words, "Well
+done."</p>
+
+<p>Exaltation such as this had long been rare with Leonard, whose mind of
+late had been fascinated rather by the mysteries of doctrine than warmed
+by religious fervor; and he was himself surprised that this ardent
+desire for a soul should enchain him; but he was gratified. To save
+souls was the ultimate object of his teaching; he was glad of this
+evidence that he had not forgotten it.</p>
+
+<p>It may be that other thoughts, memories of bygone days, arose in his
+mind. Perhaps he recalled the beauty that had so attracted him in the
+garden of the Red Ox. There may have been some stirring of the blood of
+youth, which of late had sometimes coursed tingling through his veins;
+sometimes when he held Paula's hand, or noted the peachy velvet of her
+cheek, the clear depths of her eyes. But, if it were so, he was
+unconscious.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, Paula, who in the face of Miss Claghorn's fiat, still hoped
+to rescue Natalie from the impending horrors of the White House, turned
+toward the mansion. Her main reliance lay in anticipating the summons of
+Miss Achsah by an urgent invitation from the mistress of Stormpoint, to
+which end it was essential to seek that lady without further delay.
+Suddenly, as she hurried on, an exclamation of annoyance escaped her,
+and her steps were arrested by the sight of an ancient and mud-encrusted
+buggy which stood near that entrance to the house toward which her own
+steps were tending. She recognized the equipage of Mr. Hezekiah Hacket,
+and recent observation had taught her that when Mr. Hacket's carriage
+stopped that way, the lady of Stormpoint was not accessible to persons
+of minor distinction.</p>
+
+<p>Aside from her general disapproval of Mr. Hacket, whose buggy, beneath
+its coating of mud, was yellow, and who was himself a yellow man, with
+teeth, hair, eyes and skin all of that unattractive hue, and unlovely in
+consequence of his pervading tint, Paula had no reason, so far as she
+knew, to resent Mr. Hacket's presence, except that it interfered with
+access to Mrs. Joe. Had she been aware of that which was transpiring in
+that apartment of the mansion which was devoted to business of state,
+she would have known that the visit of the gentleman was to have an
+important bearing upon her wish to deprive Miss Achsah of the
+opportunity to convert her erring grand-niece to Calvinism; which dark
+design Paula, since her meeting with Father Cameril, suspected.</p>
+
+<p>Hezekiah Hacket, externally no more noteworthy than any very ordinary
+man and brother, was, in fact, an important personage in that region
+where Mrs. Joseph Claghorn had replanted the California branch of the
+family tree, intending that it should flourish and mightily expand. The
+shrewd lady of Stormpoint had quickly discovered that Mr. Hacket, the
+man of business of the Seminary, as well as of everybody that required
+the services of a man of business, possessed a sphere of influence
+eminently worthy of cultivation by political aspirants; and in all the
+region round about there was no such aspirant whose ambition soared as
+high as hers. In a realm largely dominated by a theological seminary,
+the existence of the political potentate called "Boss" was ignored and
+the word was seldom heard; but Mr. Hacket was the thing, and, all
+unconscious, the Seminary voted as its political guardian wished. Not
+the Seminary only; as the investor of the funds of others, this
+personage controlled the sources of power, and while deftly avoiding
+concentration of the secret antagonism which he knew existed against
+himself, by never exposing himself to the vengeance of the ballot, Mr.
+Hacket named the candidates for office&mdash;not infrequently those of
+opposing sides, so that in close elections, when a rolling wave of
+reform rendered the outlook uncertain, as in those not close, he
+remained the winner. Financially, he was strictly, though only legally,
+honest. Politically, he was a rogue. He was a pious man, though without
+a conscience and without belief. His industry was untiring. The lady of
+Stormpoint disliked him, at times to the point of loathing, and she
+courted him and smiled upon him.</p>
+
+<p>"I sent for you," she said, on his appearance at Stormpoint, and
+offering a fair hand and an agreeable smile, both of which Mr. Hacket
+pretended not to see, it being his pleasant way to rule by insolence&mdash;if
+possible, by cringing if need were&mdash;"because in a few months my son will
+return home."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Hacket smoothed his yellow jaws with a freckled hand, and replied,
+"Just so," while the lady, who secretly desired to shake him, smiled yet
+more agreeably.</p>
+
+<p>"Before he left home the last time," she continued, seeing that her
+visitor intended to remain dumb, "he had made many acquaintances. This
+was in accordance with your advice. What is he to do now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Make more acquaintances."</p>
+
+<p>"That, of course. I want him to enter the next Legislature."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Hacket had not decided that the desire expressed by the lady was his
+own, but he was shrewd enough to know that, crude as her ideas might be,
+and defective her knowledge of things political, she had the energy to
+attain her desire in the end, if seconded by the efforts of her
+candidate. He hated innovation, but he was aware that the Great Serpent
+held potentialities which he must not antagonize. It was not possible
+for him to be pleasing to Mrs. Joe, nor for her to be pleasing to him;
+but it was prudent to seem sympathetic. He essayed it, awkwardly enough.</p>
+
+<p>"You know," he said, "your son is young and his only merit is money."</p>
+
+<p>She flushed; but she knew he could not help being insolent in the
+presence of grace, comeliness and luxury, and all these were before him.
+"You mean it's the merit by which he's best known. Let it serve until
+others become apparent."</p>
+
+<p>"It'll go far, but some it makes mad. I have an idea your son isn't
+over-warm in the matter."</p>
+
+<p>"He didn't seem so. He wasn't aware that I am serious, and I said but
+little to him. Then the country was very new to him, and the people.
+He'd been long in Europe; his position was difficult." She had realized
+much more keenly than Mr. Hacket that Mark had only followed her urgency
+in that matter of making acquaintance because he had wished to please
+her. She was sure that there had been some hidden cause for indifference
+other than distaste for the task she had set him, and had brooded not a
+little over possibilities. But she was sanguine by nature; and since no
+love-tale had come to her ears (and she had her observers and reporters)
+she had concluded that, whatever the cause of his indifference, her son
+would become sufficiently ardent in the furtherance of her plans, when
+once they were more fully disclosed to him, and he had become aware that
+his mother had set her heart upon a political career for him. At present
+he probably regarded her wishes as merely a passing whim, and she knew
+that he was ignorant of her consultations with Mr. Hacket.</p>
+
+<p>"Positions are apt to be difficult," observed the gentleman. "However,
+it's much too soon to discuss nominations. He'll have a year before
+him."</p>
+
+<p>"He must have the Seminary," she said, "when the time comes."</p>
+
+<p>"When the time comes," he echoed. He did not intend to commit himself,
+but he was becoming each moment more convinced that the lady knew her
+value and wished him to perceive the fact. It was equally evident that
+she duly appreciated his own; was, in fact, afraid of him, a pleasing
+assurance, which would have been yet more delightful if the gentleman,
+simultaneously with the recognition of this truth, had not also
+recognized a less agreeable fact, namely, that he was also afraid of
+her; sufficiently so to make it advisable that she understand he was not
+trifling with her. Such advice as he might give must seem reasonable,
+and must go beyond the suggestion of making acquaintances.</p>
+
+<p>"You're working the Sem. all right," he said as graciously as he could.
+"Keep it up, but don't overdo it. How's Miss Achsah feel?"</p>
+
+<p>"Friendly to Mark, I'm sure; not unfriendly to me, though&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Though your church sticks in her&mdash;is hard to swallow. I'm not surprised
+at that. St. Perpetual's&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Is there and beyond discussion."</p>
+
+<p>"I always believe in looking over the whole field. St. Perpetual covers
+a good deal of it; so does Miss Achsah, and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I had no idea that my sister-in-law is a political factor."</p>
+
+<p>"Her's is, or wants to be."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, let us conciliate Miss Achsah, if necessary. We're on fair
+terms&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Next time the Bishop comes here, invite her to dinner with him."</p>
+
+<p>"She'll decline."</p>
+
+<p>"What if she does? You always had the Professor, and she'll see that you
+look on her as his successor."</p>
+
+<p>He rose, as if to go, but hesitated. Not because of any delicacy about
+volunteering the counsel that hovered on his lips, but in doubt whether
+it might not be well to permit her to injure her aspirations as much as
+she could. The certainty that she was, if she cared to be, too
+influential to offend him, determined him. He felt, with a sigh, that
+the time might come when he might be compelled to share his power;
+better that than risk losing it.</p>
+
+<p>"I was in New York this week and saw Ellis Winter," he said. "Ellis told
+me that 'Liph Claghorn's daughter is in this country. He seemed to think
+you might invite her here."</p>
+
+<p>"I intended to do so."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't. She's French and, I suppose, a Romanist. Winter was
+close-mouthed, but I could see there was something. There's talk enough
+about idolatry and St. Perpetual's. I happen to know that Miss Achsah
+wants her, too, to convert her."</p>
+
+<p>"Really, Mr. Hacket&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye," he said. "I've acted on the square. There's more in the
+matter than you think."</p>
+
+<p>After his departure the lady of Stormpoint spent a few moments of
+indulgence in silent indignation; but when Paula came and preferred the
+request for that urgent invitation to Natalie, which was to circumvent
+the designs of Miss Claghorn, she found the lady inclined to recognize
+the claims of that person. Nevertheless, she promised to send the
+invitation, and did so that afternoon.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE DEVIL WALKS TO AND FRO IN HAMPTON.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The ancient city of Hampton and its Theological Seminary are well known.
+To the wanderer under the elms of the quaint old town there is imparted
+an impression of cleanliness and a serene complacency, derived,
+doubtless, from the countenances of the many who, clad in sombre vesture
+and clean linen, pass and repass in the quiet streets. No man can be
+long in Hampton without feeling the theological influence; unconsciously
+the wayfarer adopts the prevailing manner, becomes deliberate in his
+walk and grave of aspect; his moral tone acquires rigidity, his taste
+severity; he inwardly rejoices if clad in fitting black and secretly
+covets gold-rimmed spectacles.</p>
+
+<p>The best hotel, facing the Square, has the Hampton air, being even
+severely theological in aspect. Ordinary commercial travelers prefer
+"The United States," also a grave hostelry, though less austere in tone;
+but some descend at "The Hampton," reverend appearing gentlemen these,
+with white chokers conspicuous, and dealing in churchly wares and
+theological publications.</p>
+
+<p>In this house Leonard had lived since his father's death had made the
+old home desolate, being, by reason of his personal as well as his
+professional attributes, a guest of note; and here there happened to him
+one day a new and strange experience.</p>
+
+<p>He was breakfasting, later than his usual hour, when he became conscious
+of the scrutiny of the strangest eyes he had ever seen&mdash;eyes belonging
+to a woman, who, plainly clad in traveling attire, faced him from an
+adjacent table where she sat, with another woman, whose back was toward
+Leonard.</p>
+
+<p>The gaze, though fixed, was not in appearance intentionally bold. The
+woman's eyes, dreamy, languishing, seemed to sink into his own, as
+though seeking what might be in the depths they tried to penetrate. It
+was as though, for them, the veil behind which man hides his inner self
+was lifted, and a sense of pleasure stole over him and willingness to
+surrender to this scrutiny; withal a shrinking from disclosure of that
+which he instinctively felt was unknown, even to himself. It required
+some effort to rise and leave the room.</p>
+
+<p>An hour later, while waiting for the time of his morning lecture, and
+hardly freed as yet from the sensation resulting from his breakfast
+experience, while sitting in the spacious hall of the quiet house, he
+suddenly became aware of drapery, and looking up, encountered the eyes
+again; not as he had been seeing them since he had escaped them, but
+again bodily where they belonged, under the heavy brows of a dark-faced,
+large, and rather handsome woman.</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon," she said in musical tones, and with a scarce perceptible smile
+at the ruddy flush which mantled his face. "<i>Est ce Monsieur Claghorn?</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"Surely," exclaimed Leonard, "this is not&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"The maid of Mademoiselle Claghorn," she replied, still in French. "The
+clerk indicated you as Monsieur&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly. Your mistress&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"This way, Monsieur." She led him toward the parlor, and had his ears
+been keen enough, he might have heard her murmur: "<i>Il est adorable.</i>"</p>
+
+<p>Natalie had been, in Leonard's eyes, a very beautiful girl, and he found
+her now a very beautiful woman. She was tall, dark, slender and
+indescribably graceful, as well as with the nameless manner, born with
+some and never in perfection acquired, of exceeding yet not obtrusive
+graciousness. Had she been born a duchess, she could not have had a
+better manner; had she been born a washerwoman, it would have been as
+good, for it was born, not made. The mere beauty of her face was hardly
+remembered in contemplation of qualities apparent, yet not wholly
+comprehensible. Ordinarily serene, if not joyous in expression, there
+was an underlying sadness that seldom left it. Perhaps she still grieved
+for the father she had lost; perhaps, unconsciously, she craved the love
+or the religion which the Marquise had said a woman needs.</p>
+
+<p>The travelers were on their way to Easthampton, having arrived in the
+night train from New York. On learning that less than an hour's drive
+would bring her to the home of Miss Claghorn, Natalie declined Leonard's
+escort. "I wish to see my grand-aunt alone," she explained. "She has
+written a most kind invitation&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Which I hope you will accept, Cousin."</p>
+
+<p>"Which I greatly desire to accept, but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"If for any reason," he interrupted, "you should decide not to accept
+Cousin Achsah's invitation, I know that at Stormpoint&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I have letters from both Mrs. Joe and Paula; but my first duty, and my
+inclination as well, take me to my father's aunt."</p>
+
+<p>Though he had at first agreed with Paula that residence with Miss Achsah
+would not "do" for Natalie, he saw the fitness of her decision. She
+recognized her own status as a Claghorn and appreciated the Claghorn
+claim upon her. "I am glad you feel so," he said. "You will discern
+Cousin Achsah's real excellence beneath an exterior which, at first
+sight, may seem unpromising. She is not French, as you will soon
+discover, but as for true kindness&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She interrupted with a laugh. "You and Mr. Winter are both eloquent in
+apologizing for my grand-aunt's sort of kindness, which, it seems,
+differs from the French variety."</p>
+
+<p>"We only mean she will seem to you undemonstrative. She is very
+religious."</p>
+
+<p>"That does not alarm me; everybody is&mdash;except myself," and now her laugh
+had a cadence of sadness.</p>
+
+<p>It touched him. He knew the task laid out for him by Providence, and he
+felt that he ought to say a fitting word. But all the time he knew that
+the eyes of the maid were upon him. The knowledge made him appear
+somewhat constrained&mdash;he who ordinarily had an ease of manner, which was
+not the least of his charms.</p>
+
+<p>"They are well at Stormpoint, of course?" questioned Natalie. "Mrs. Joe
+and Paula?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perfectly. You will be charmed with their home. Mrs. Claghorn has
+transformed a desert. The sea&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Paula sent me some views, and better, an appreciative description. I
+should think they would never wish to leave it&mdash;none of them?" She
+looked inquiringly at him.</p>
+
+<p>"As to that," he laughed, "Mrs. Joe flits occasionally; and, of course,
+Paula with her. But they are becoming more and more content to remain at
+home. Mrs. Joe is quite a public character."</p>
+
+<p>"A chatelaine&mdash;the head of the house?" Again her eyes questioned more
+insistently than her lips.</p>
+
+<p>"Quite so," was the answer. "Mark's a rover. He's in Russia."</p>
+
+<p>A sigh of relief&mdash;or regret? It was quickly checked. Leonard noticed her
+pallor. "You are tired," he said. "Why not rest for an hour or two here?
+If you will do so, I can myself drive you to Easthampton. Just now I
+must attend to my class at the Seminary."</p>
+
+<p>But she would not wait for his escort; so he procured a conveyance, and
+surmising that, under the circumstances, the maid was an embarrassment,
+he suggested providing her with a book and the hospitality of his
+sitting-room, and having seen his cousin depart, he conducted
+Mademoiselle Berthe to his room and handed her a volume of the "Revue
+des Deux Mondes," which the maid accepted graciously.</p>
+
+<p>"There," he said pleasantly, and in his best French, "you can look out
+of the window or read, as you please. I hope you will not find the time
+long."</p>
+
+<p>She smiled in reply. Her penetrating eyes sought that other self within
+him, which leaped to the call and looked out of his eyes into hers. For
+a moment only. His gaze dropped. Wondering, he found himself trembling.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I shall look in in an hour, to see if you want anything."</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur is very good," murmured Berthe. They were not far apart; her
+hand touched his. She looked downward.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye," he said abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>She watched him crossing the square toward the Seminary. There was a
+half smile upon her lips. "He is adorable," she murmured again. "Ah! I
+thought so," as Leonard, now some hundred yards away, looked back.</p>
+
+<p>When he had disappeared she lazily inspected her surroundings, noting
+the various objects with faint interest. "<i>Son père</i>," she muttered as
+her glance fell upon the portrait of Professor Jared Claghorn. But she
+examined more minutely that of his mother. "<i>Belle femme</i>," was her
+comment, and though her eyes wandered from the picture, they often
+returned to it, verifying the close resemblance between it and the
+occupant of the room. "Ah-h!" she exclaimed, throwing up her arms, and
+then letting them fall listlessly, "<i>Qu'il est beau</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>Then she tried to doze, but without much success, twitching nervously
+and occasionally muttering impatiently; and, at length, she rose from
+her chair and began to deliberately inspect the various objects lying on
+table or mantel. Everything that was purely ornamental she scrutinized
+with care, as though she would read the reason of its being where she
+found it. There was a peculiar expression of veiled anger in her eyes
+while thus engaged, and once the veil was momentarily lifted and anger
+was visible. Nevertheless, she laughed a moment after and replaced the
+object, an ivory paper cutter, where she had found it. "<i>T'es bête</i>,"
+she muttered.</p>
+
+<p>But soon her dark eyes flashed actual rage. She had taken a prettily
+bound book of poems from the table, where it had been thrown, as if but
+recently read. She turned the pages, half carelessly, yet with a sharp
+eye, to see if there were any marked passages. She found one or two
+such, and it would have been diverting, had there been a spectator
+present, to note her perplexed attempts to read Mrs. Browning. But the
+language was beyond her powers, and she was about impatiently to replace
+the book when she noticed the fly-leaf, whereon in a neat, clear hand
+was written the inscription, "Leonard, from Paula." She stared at these
+innocent words with a glare that under no circumstances could have been
+regarded as amusing. Finally, she tore the leaf from the book and flung
+the book itself disdainfully from her. Then she crumpled the leaf in her
+hand, threw it into the waste basket, and deliberately spat upon it.</p>
+
+<p>Which strange proceeding perhaps soothed her irritation, for she lay
+back in her chair, and after breathing hard for a little while, was soon
+sleeping peacefully.</p>
+
+<p>Meantime, while Mademoiselle slept the sleep of one who has spent the
+night in travel, Leonard lectured, but less fluently than was usual. A
+man out of sorts is not an uncommon circumstance, and though his flushed
+cheeks, bright eyes, and occasional bungling speech were sufficiently
+remarkable in one ordinarily engrossed with his subject, nothing was
+said to further disturb his equanimity.</p>
+
+<p>The lecture over, he walked across the square, less equable in spirit
+than he had been in the class-room; for there he had striven to retain
+his grasp of the topic in hand; now he was under no restraint and could
+surrender himself to contemplation&mdash;of what?</p>
+
+<p>Of the stirring touch of a woman's hand, of the vision of a new world, a
+glimpse of which he had caught in the greedy depths of a woman's eyes.
+Even now he was hurrying to see these things again, while he was angry
+that they drew him back.</p>
+
+<p>He overcame the attraction, and deliberately sat down upon a bench. He
+watched a little girl playing about, and might have remained watching
+had not the devil, who sometimes walks to and fro and up and down in
+Hampton, intervened.</p>
+
+<p>The child was suddenly struck by a ball, batted by an urchin, who, on
+seeing what he had done, incontinently took to his heels. She fell,
+stunned, almost at Leonard's feet. The impact of the ball had seemed
+frightful, and for a moment Leonard thought she was killed.</p>
+
+<p>The hotel was across the street. He carried her thither, intending to
+summon a physician, but on seeing some returning signs of animation, he
+took his burden to his room and laid her on the bed.</p>
+
+<p>Berthe, her nap over, had witnessed the scene in the park. She heard
+Leonard lay the child on the bed in the chamber adjoining the room in
+which she sat, and was instantly by the bedside with her traveling bag,
+from which she produced restoratives. She gave her whole attention to
+the sufferer, while he looked on, pleased with these gentle
+ministrations.</p>
+
+<p>"It may be a bad hurt," said Berthe, undoubted pity in her tone. "The
+brain may be injured."</p>
+
+<p>"I will call the doctor,'" he said.</p>
+
+<p>The doctor was at hand, his room being on the same corridor. His opinion
+was that no serious damage had been done. "Let her rest awhile. If she
+seems unusually drowsy, let me know," with which words and a glance at
+Mademoiselle, he returned to his room.</p>
+
+<p>Berthe knelt beside the child, who was growing alarmed as her
+intelligence became normally acute. The Frenchwoman prattled soothingly,
+and Leonard stooped to add some words of encouragement. He stroked the
+child's hair, and his hand met the soft hand of Berthe and was enclosed
+within it. He trembled as she drew him downward, and a sob escaped him
+as his lips met hers and lingered on them in a rapturous kiss.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2>
+
+<h3>HER EYES GREW LIMPID AND HER CHEEKS FLUSHED RED.</h3>
+
+
+<p>When the carriage, which was to convey her to Easthampton, had started,
+Natalie commenced the re-perusal of Miss Claghorn's invitation, which
+ran thus:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"My Dear Grand-niece&mdash;I address you thus, for though I have
+never seen you, yet you are of my kindred, and all who bear
+your name must be dear to me. Your father was so in his youth,
+and if, in later years, he neglected, if he did not forget, the
+ties of kinship and of country, I nevertheless mourned for him,
+even though sensible that all things are ordered by the Lord of
+heaven and earth and that human regret is useless, and, if
+unaccompanied with resignation, sinful. Mr. Winter writes me
+that you are friendless. I offer that which you can justly
+claim from me&mdash;my friendship and a home. As far as earthly
+cares are concerned, I am willing to relieve you of those
+incident to your situation. This is plainly my duty, and for
+many years I have striven, with God's help, to perform with a
+cheerful spirit that which I have been called upon to do.</p>
+
+<p>"It is this habit which impels me here to refer to your views
+concerning man's duty toward his Maker. I do not, because
+conscientiously I cannot, agree with those who profess
+tolerance in these matters. There should be no tolerance of
+sin. If we would worthily follow in the steps of Him who died
+that we might live, we must hate the devil and his children in
+the same measure that we love our Father and his children.
+Whose child are you?</p>
+
+<p>"This is a solemn question. I urge you to seek its answer at
+the Throne. If you will do this, my hope will be mighty. Should
+you be tempted to resent my solicitude, remember that my
+religion is a part of my nature, the only part meriting your
+respect, and that it requires of me that which I have written,
+as well as much more not set down here, but of which I hope I
+shall see the fruits. Come to me as soon as possible, and be
+assured of a welcome. <span class="smcap">Achsah Claghorn.</span>"</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>The girl smiled, though sadly, as she read this letter. She did not
+resent the fact that it was confessedly inspired solely by a sense of
+duty; she rather admired the writer for the uncompromising statement;
+nor was she offended at the sermon contained in the epistle, or inclined
+to treat it lightly. It is not probable that the writer of the letter
+believed that her exhortation would sink deeply in the heart of an
+"atheist," she being probably unaware that some who know not God crave a
+knowledge which they find nowhere offered.</p>
+
+<p>The drive was long, the horse sleepy, the driver willing that his steed
+should doze, while his passenger paid by the hour, for which reason he
+had chosen the longer road by the sea.</p>
+
+<p>She looked out upon the water with a gaze of longing, as though there
+might arise from out the solitary deep a vision which would solve that
+great mystery, which for Miss Claghorn and such as she, was no mystery,
+but wherein most of us grope as in a fog. But, as to other yearning
+eyes, so to hers no vision was vouchsafed; though had her sight been
+strengthened by experience, she might have seen, symbolized in the
+waters, the life of man. For, against the shore the fretful waves were
+spent and lost in sand, whereof each particle was insignificant, but
+which in the mass absorbed the foaming billows, as the vain aspirations
+of youth absorb its futile energies. Beyond was the green water, still
+tireless and vexed, and then the smoother blue, as it neared the
+sky-line, undisturbed, until afar the waters lay at rest in hopeless
+patience, and the heavens came down and hid the secret of what lay
+beyond.</p>
+
+<p>But, if youth looked with the eyes of age, there were no youth. She was
+not yet to know lessons which must be hardly learned, and it was not
+that one offered by the waters that she saw as she looked out upon the
+ocean. Far beyond the horizon, in a distant land, her eyes beheld the
+garden of a village inn where sat a girl, prattling with her father and
+commenting upon two dusty strangers, who in their turn were eyeing the
+maid and her companion curiously. She saw the cave, heard Leonard shout
+the name&mdash;and then Mark Claghorn stood before her&mdash;as he then had stood,
+in the jaunty cap and ribbon which proclaimed him "<i>Bursch</i>"; one of
+those lawless beings of whom she had heard much school-girl prattle.
+Even then she had contrasted the handsomer face of the simple-minded boy
+beside her with the harsher and more commanding features of this
+newcomer. And her fancy wandered on through pleasant German saunterings
+and Parisian scenes among the churches&mdash;to the day when Berthe Lenoir
+had said that Mark would be her teacher in the lore of love; and she
+knew that, in the moment of that saying, she had learned the great
+lesson, never to be forgotten.</p>
+
+<p>She had cherished the secret without hope or wish that he should share
+it, for she knew that so sweet a thing could live in no heart but her
+own; and she had not been ashamed, but had been proud of this holy
+acquisition hidden in her heart of hearts. Her eyes grew limpid and her
+cheeks flushed red as she recalled how the shrine of her treasure had
+been profaned by the hand of one that might have known, but had
+disdained its worth. In the Church of St. Roch the three who had been
+present when love was born were again alone together. Berthe was now her
+maid, and Mark, his university days past, was a daily visitor at her
+father's house.</p>
+
+<p>The scene was clear before her as he pointed to the maid, out of
+earshot, and gazing carelessly at the worshippers. "Has she
+forgotten&mdash;so soon?" he said. "Are women so?"</p>
+
+<p>She had not answered. Forgotten! Who could forget?</p>
+
+<p>"I have not forgotten. I often come here, Natalie."</p>
+
+<p>She had had no words. What was it that had so joyously welled up within
+her and overflowed her eyes and closed her lips?</p>
+
+<p>"I was to be your teacher, Natalie."</p>
+
+<p>She looked into his eyes, and from her own went out the secret of her
+soul into his keeping; and she had been glad, and the gloomy church had
+been aglow, and as they passed out the sun shone and the heavens smiled
+upon a new world; for she had never seen it thus before.</p>
+
+<p>That was the short chapter of the history of her love. There had been no
+other. He had ravished her secret that he might disdain it, and next day
+had said a stern good-bye, spoken as though forever.</p>
+
+<p>Yet she had dared to come here, though now the impulse was strong upon
+her to turn and flee from a region where he might be met. It was but an
+impulse; for either she must come among these her relatives or return to
+throw herself into the arms of the vacuous hussar who loved her dowry,
+or failing that, into the strife and importunity from which she had
+escaped. Resentful pride, too, came to her aid, bidding her not flee
+from him who had disdained her love, though even so she knew that that
+which had been born within her had been so fondly cherished, had grown
+so mighty, that in the heart it filled there was no room for pride to
+grow with equal strength.</p>
+
+<p>She turned again to the letter in her hand. Her unbelief had never
+stilled the longing to believe, and now, in the hunger of her soul, the
+yearning was strong. But, she asked herself, What was belief? There was
+much glib talk of faith, but what was faith? Could one have faith by
+saying that one had it? Was conviction mere assertion? The letter
+advised her to seek enlightenment at the Throne of God. What meaning
+could the words have except that she was to crave that which she had
+ever craved? Her soul had always cried aloud for knowledge of God. Could
+it be that formal words, repeated kneeling, would compel heaven to give
+ear? Was it thus that people experienced what they called religion? Was
+it so that Miss Claghorn had found it?</p>
+
+<p>Such musings came to an end with her arrival at the White House. She had
+announced her coming by letter, wherefore Tabitha Cone, recognizing the
+identity of the visitor and mentally pronouncing her a "stunner,"
+ushered her into the gloomy parlor, and informed Miss Claghorn that
+"'Liph's daughter" awaited her.</p>
+
+<p>"I decided to call in person before accepting your kind invitation,"
+said the visitor.</p>
+
+<p>"I learn from Ellis Winter that you need a home," replied Miss Achsah, a
+little stiffly, but rather from awe of this blooming creature than from
+dislike.</p>
+
+<p>"I am grateful for your offer of one; but in fairness, I thought you
+should know my reasons for leaving France, and essential that you should
+justify me."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Claghorn assented not ungraciously. The frank demeanor of her
+visitor pleased her. "A Claghorn," was her mental comment, as Natalie
+told her story more in detail than Mr. Winter had done.</p>
+
+<p>"You see," she added to her narrative of the matrimonial pursuit of the
+gallant de Fleury, "he is not a man that I could like, but my
+cousin&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You mean this French Markweeze?"</p>
+
+<p>Natalie nodded. "She is a sweet woman, and undoubtedly believed herself
+right in the matter. Then it was, doubtless, a very serious
+disappointment. Lieutenant de Fleury is her son; they are comparatively
+poor; I am not&mdash;and so&mdash;and so&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You were quite right to run away," snapped Miss Achsah, with the
+emphasis born of indignation at this attempt to coerce a Claghorn.</p>
+
+<p>"It must not be forgotten that, from her point of view, my cousin was
+justified in expecting me to carry out a promise made by my father. It
+was this that made her so persistent and induced her to attempt measures
+that were not justifiable. To her I must seem ungrateful for much
+kindness." The girl's eyes glistened with tears. In fact, this view of
+her conduct, which was doubtless the view of the Marquise, affected her
+deeply. She did not state, though aware of the fact, that her own income
+had, during her residence with her French guardian, been mainly used to
+sustain and freshen the very faded glory of the house of Fleury.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, my dear," was the comment of Miss Claghorn, "I have listened to
+your story and justify your course; and now I repeat my invitation."</p>
+
+<p>Had Tabitha Cone seen the gracious manner of the speaker she would have
+been as surprised as was the lady herself. But in the presence of this
+beautiful face, the evident honesty of the narration of the tale she had
+heard, the underlying sadness beneath the serene expression, it would
+have needed a harder nature than Miss Claghorn's to be anything but
+gracious. But she flushed with self-reproach when Natalie touched upon
+what she had for the moment completely forgotten.</p>
+
+<p>"But," exclaimed Natalie, "I have not answered the question in your
+letter. The matter of religion, I was led to believe, would be to you
+most important. It is to so many; the Marquise, Père Martin, Mrs.
+Leon&mdash;have all been grieved&mdash;I am an infidel."</p>
+
+<p>The coolness with which this statement was made shocked her auditor even
+more than the fact. The perplexed smile upon the girl's face; the
+yearning look, that seemed to recognize something wanting in her, some
+faculty absent which left her without a clew to the cause of the
+successive shocks emanating from her&mdash;these things, if only dimly
+appreciated by Miss Claghorn, were sufficiently apparent to make her
+feel as though a weight had fallen upon her heart. "Oh, my child, that
+is an awful thing to say!" she exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>The way the words were uttered showed that all the tenderness, long
+hidden, of the speaker's nature was suddenly called to life. No
+exhortation ever heard by Natalie had so affected her as this outburst
+of a hard old woman. She seized the other's hand, murmuring, "Dear
+Aunt!" She pitied, even while she envied, the victim of superstition, as
+the God-fearing woman pitied the errant soul. Neither understood the
+source of the other's emotion, but they met in complete sympathy. The
+elder woman pressed the hand that had grasped her own, and leaning
+toward her grand-niece, kissed her affectionately. What old and
+long-dried springs of feeling were awakened in the withered breast as
+the oldest descendant of the Puritan preacher yearned over the youngest
+of the line? Who shall tell? Perhaps the barren motherhood of the
+ancient spinster was stirred for once; perhaps the never-known craving
+for a mother's love moved the younger one. For a time both were silent.</p>
+
+<p>"Come to me to-day, at once," whispered Miss Achsah, blushing, had she
+known it, and quivering strangely.</p>
+
+<p>The heartiness of the invitation troubled the visitor, whose answer was
+less gracious than a chief characteristic required. "I will come
+to-day," she answered. "Let it be understood as a visit only." Then she
+went out, and in the lumbering carriage was driven back to Hampton.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Claghorn watched her from the window. Gradually she was recovering
+herself and secretly feeling mightily ashamed, yet pleased, too. Tabitha
+came in.</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," echoed Miss Claghorn, acidly.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you going to do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Pray," replied the lady, as she ascended the stairs.</p>
+
+<p>"Must have forgot it this morning," was Miss Cone's mental comment.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>WHEREAT CYNICS AND MATRONS MAY SMILE INCREDULOUS.</h3>
+
+
+<p>When Natalie returned, Leonard was occupying his old seat in the Square,
+a different man from the man she had met in the earlier morning. He had
+been shocked, grieved, even terrified, and above all ashamed; yet joy
+mingled with his grief, and his consciousness of new manhood was not
+without its glory; and, withal, his breast was filled with a flood of
+tremulous tenderness for the woman, and a longing for her forgiveness.
+His emotions were sufficiently confusing to be vexing, and he had
+striven to give the matter a jaunty aspect. Young men will be young men,
+even when students of divinity, and he had heard more than one tale of
+kisses. He had not much liked such tales, nor the bragging and
+assumption of their tellers; still, a few hours since, he would have
+seen no great offense in kissing a pretty woman; but a few hours since
+he had not known anything about the matter. He was sure now that the
+rakes of his college days, the boasters and conquerors, had been as
+ignorant as he. Otherwise they could not have told of their deeds; the
+thing he had done he could tell no man.</p>
+
+<p>And so, though he had but kissed a woman, he felt that kissing a woman
+was a wonderful thing; and he failed in the attempt to look upon the
+matter airily, as of a little affair that would have in the future a
+flavor of roguishness. It was not a matter to be treated lightly; his
+grief and the stabs of conscience were too sharp for that&mdash;yet he had no
+remorse. He was not minded to repeat the act; he had fled from such
+repetition, and he would not repeat it; neither would he regret it. It
+should be a memory, a secret for hidden shame, for hidden pride, for
+grief, for joy.</p>
+
+<p>He intercepted Natalie as she descended from the carriage, and, in a
+brief interview in the hotel parlor, learned of her intention to return
+at once to Miss Claghorn. The carriage was waiting, there was no reason
+for delaying her departure; there was nothing to do but to call the
+maid, and he dispatched a servant to do that. He volunteered to see to
+the immediate transmission of the luggage of the travelers to
+Easthampton, and made thereof an excuse for leaving before the maid
+reappeared; and when once without the hotel door, and on his way to the
+station, he breathed a sigh as of one relieved of a load.</p>
+
+<p>Some days passed and Leonard had not appeared at Easthampton. One
+morning he received the following note from Paula:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"Dear Leonard&mdash;I suppose you are very busy in these last days
+of the term, and we all excuse your neglect of us. I shall be
+at the Hampton station on Thursday, having promised to see
+Natalie's maid (who don't speak English) on the evening train
+for New York. Perhaps you can meet me and return with me to
+dinner. Cousin Alice hopes you will."</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>He was careful not to find Paula until the train had gone, and he had
+assured himself that Berthe was among the passengers. Then he appeared.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Leonard," exclaimed Paula, "have you been ill?" The tone was full
+of concern. He shrank as if he had been struck.</p>
+
+<p>"No," he said; "a little anxious&mdash;troubled."</p>
+
+<p>"Over your freckled, gawky, thickshod theologues; what a pity you're not
+in the Church!"</p>
+
+<p>This kind of outburst on the part of the speaker usually made Leonard
+laugh. To-night his laugh sounded hollow. "I suppose your Episcopalian
+students wear kids and use face powder," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"There's no harm in kid gloves; inner vileness&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Is very bad, Paula; we'll not discuss it."</p>
+
+<p>They walked across the Square, on the other side of which she had left
+the carriage. She looked up to his face to seek an explanation of the
+irritation discoverable in his tone; she noted that his hat was drawn
+down over his eyes in a way very unusual. They walked on in silence.
+"You will come with me?" she asked, when they had reached the carriage.</p>
+
+<p>"Not to-night. You are right, I am not very well; it is nothing, I will
+come out this week. Has Natalie discharged her maid?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not for any fault. Mrs. Leon was very glad to get Berthe, and as
+Natalie is situated&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I see. I hope she is comfortable with Cousin Achsah."</p>
+
+<p>"They hit it off astonishingly well. The fact is, nobody could help
+loving Natalie&mdash;I am surprised that you have not been to see her."</p>
+
+<p>"I know I have seemed negligent. I have a good excuse. Where, in New
+York, does Mrs. Leon live?"</p>
+
+<p>"At the Fifth Avenue Hotel," she replied, wondering at the question.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," he said, after a pause, and treating her answer as though, like
+his question, it was of no real interest. "I must not keep you here. You
+don't mind going home alone?"</p>
+
+<p>"I should be glad of your company; aside from that, I don't mind."</p>
+
+<p>"Then, good-bye," touching her hand for an instant. "Make my excuses to
+Mrs. Joe; I have been really very busy. Home, James." He closed the
+carriage door and walked rapidly away, leaving Paula vexed, to sink back
+in the soft seat and to wonder.</p>
+
+<p>He walked across the Square to the region of shops and entered a large
+grocery store&mdash;at this time of day, deserted. "Could you give me a bill
+for fifty dollars?" he asked of the cashier.</p>
+
+<p>"I believe I can, Professor," replied the official, drawing one from the
+desk, and exchanging it for the smaller bills handed him by Leonard, who
+thanked him and went out. That night he enclosed the single bill in an
+envelope, and addressed it to Mademoiselle Berthe, in care of Mrs. Leon.</p>
+
+<p>As he could have told no man why he had done this, so he could not tell
+himself why. Cynics and matrons may smile incredulous, but the kiss he
+had given and received had wrought an upheaval in this man's soul. He
+who defers his kissing until he has reached maturity has much to learn,
+and if the learning comes in a sudden burst of light in still and quiet
+chambers, that have until now been dark, the man may well be dazzled.</p>
+
+<p>He did not think her sordid. He hoped she would understand that he sent
+her that which he believed would be of use to her. But when, a week
+later, he received a little box and found within it an exquisite pin,
+which he, unlearned in such matters, still knew must have cost a large
+part of the sum he had sent her, he was pleased, and a thrill passed
+through him. Like him, she would remember, nor in her mind would there
+be any thought but one of tenderness for a day that could never come
+again. It would be a fair memory that would trouble him no more, but
+would remain forever fair, of her who had opened to him the portals of a
+new and beautiful world.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2>
+
+<h3>IN THE WHITE HOUSE, A DAMSEL OR THE DEVIL&mdash;WHICH?</h3>
+
+
+<p>When Paula had said to Leonard that Natalie and Miss Claghorn "hit it
+off astonishingly well," she had fairly indicated the harmonious
+relations prevailing at the White House, as well as the general
+astonishment that the elder lady had so graciously received a religious
+outcast. It was true that Miss Achsah's innate benevolence was
+habitually shrouded in uncompromising orthodoxy, a tough and
+non-diaphanous texture, not easily penetrable by futile concern for
+souls preordained to eternal death; but Natalie was of her own blood,
+one of a long line of elect; furthermore, she had not been seduced by
+the blandishments of the Great Serpent, but had cast her lot, where it
+truly belonged, among Claghorns; and, finally, the oldest bearer of that
+name was doubtless influenced by the fact that the girl was motherless
+and friendless, and that she herself, paying the penalty of
+independence, was, except as to Tabitha Cone, with whom she lived in
+strife, alone.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Cone also approved of the visitor. This had been originally an
+accident. Like the rest of the little world interested, Tabitha had
+supposed that Miss Claghorn's reception of a foreign and atheistical
+daughter of Beverley Claghorn would be as ungracious as was compatible
+with humanity; wherefore Tabitha had been prepared, for her part, to be
+extremely affable, foreseeing, with joy, many a battle with her
+benefactress wherein she would have an ally; but, taken unawares, by the
+time she had grasped the unexpected situation, she had become too
+sincere in her admiration to change her role. She chose, however, to
+announce an estimate of Natalie's character differing from that of Miss
+Claghorn. "She's a Beverley down to her shins," was Miss Cone's
+verdict.</p>
+
+<p>"As much of a Beverley as you are a Claghorn," was Miss Achsah's tart
+rejoinder.</p>
+
+<p>"Which, thank the Lord, I'm not. One's enough in one house. For my part,
+I don't admire your strong characters."</p>
+
+<p>"So that your admiration of Natalie is all pretense. I'm not surprised."</p>
+
+<p>"She strong! Poor dove, she's Susan Beverley to the life." Which may
+have been true, though dove-like Natalie was not.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Claghorn made no reply except by means of a contradictory snort.</p>
+
+<p>"Now," gravely continued the inwardly jubilant Tabitha, "I call Paula
+Lynford a strong character. There's a girl that'll get what she's
+after."</p>
+
+<p>Something ominous in the manner of the speaker arrested the sneer on its
+way. "What do you mean?" asked Miss Achsah.</p>
+
+<p>"What do all girls want&mdash;though, to be sure, you've had no experience,"
+observed Tabitha (who had once contemplated marriage with a mariner, who
+had escaped by drowning)&mdash;"a husband."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Claghorn laughed. "Very likely. But Paula's husband will need a
+dispensation&mdash;from the Pope, I suppose&mdash;since he calls himself a
+Catholic."</p>
+
+<p>Tabitha echoed the laugh, less nervously and with palpable and unholy
+enjoyment. "You mean her cap's set for Father Cameril. She's been
+throwing dust in your eyes. She's after a minister, sure enough, but not
+that one."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean, Tabitha Cone?" The tone of the question usually had
+the effect of cowing Tabitha, but the temptation was too strong to be
+resisted.</p>
+
+<p>"I mean Leonard Claghorn."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Achsah gasped. "You slanderous creature," she exclaimed, "Leonard
+will never marry a mock-papist&mdash;demure puss!"</p>
+
+<p>"Leonard'll marry to suit himself, and not his forty-fifth cousin." And
+with this Tabitha escaped, leaving a rankling arrow.</p>
+
+<p>As an "atheist," Natalie was a surprise to both inmates of the White
+House. Their ideas of atheistic peculiarities were probably vague, but
+each had regarded the arrival of the unbeliever with dread. Tabitha had
+foreboded profanity, perhaps even inebriety, depravity certainly, and
+she had been quite "upset," to use her own expression, by the reality.
+Miss Claghorn, with due respect for family traits, had never shared
+Tabitha's worst fears, but she had anticipated a very different kind of
+person from the person that Natalie actually was. She had pictured a
+hard, cynical, intellectual creature, critical as to the shortcomings of
+creation, full of "science," and pertly obtrusive with views. She had
+feared theological discussion, and though convinced that her armory
+(comprised in Dr. Hodge's "Commentary on the Confession of Faith") was
+amply furnished to repel atheistic assault, yet she dreaded the onset,
+having, perhaps, some distrust of her own capacity for handling her
+weapons.</p>
+
+<p>But the atheist was neither scientific nor argumentative. She was so
+graceful, so amiable, in short, so charming, that both old women were
+quickly won; so gay that both were surprised to hear their own laughter.
+Sufficiently foreign to be of continual interest, and so pleased and
+entertained with her new surroundings that they would have been churlish
+indeed not to accept her pleasure as flattering to themselves.</p>
+
+<p>At times, indeed, both had misgivings. The devil is abroad, and it was
+conceivable that in the form of this seductive creature he had
+audaciously invaded the White House for prey, such as rarely fell into
+his toils; but each spinster was too sure of her own call and election
+to fear the enemy of souls on her individual account, and Miss Claghorn
+doubted whether even the temerity of Satan would suffice for the
+hopeless attempt to capture an orthodox Claghorn; and this assurance
+aided the belief that Natalie, herself of the elect race, was neither
+the devil's emissary, nor in the direful peril that had been feared. She
+might think herself an infidel, but her time was not yet come, that was
+all.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure she has workings of the spirit," she observed to Tabitha.
+"She's not always as lighthearted as you think."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't happen to think it. A good deal of that's put on."</p>
+
+<p>"Everybody don't experience grace as early as you and I."</p>
+
+<p>"Specially not in Paris," assented Miss Cone.</p>
+
+<p>"She was surely guided of the Lord in leaving the influence of Romanism
+to&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"'Cording to your view she hasn't escaped yet; there's St. Perpetua&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"She's too true a Claghorn to be led into that folly."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," observed Miss Cone meditatively, "that the Claghorns are
+less foolish than other people. There was 'Liph, her father; 'n there's
+Lettie Stanley&mdash;then your brother. St. Perpetua's his monument, you
+know."</p>
+
+<p>"Joseph would never have approved St. Perpetua. If he'd been a Catholic,
+it wouldn't have been an imitation."</p>
+
+<p>"His wife ought to know the kind of monument he would have liked. I've
+known the Claghorns long enough to know&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You've known some of 'em, to your eternal welfare, Tabitha Cone."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not aware that the family was consulted when my election was
+foreordained. You think well of 'em, and I won't deny their good
+qualities&mdash;but I guess the Almighty didn't have to wait until their
+creation to manage."</p>
+
+<p>"You seem very sure of election. I hope you are not to be disappointed,
+but you might accept the fact with some humility."</p>
+
+<p>"Your brother, Natalie's grandfather, had a license to preach&mdash;I'm not
+aware that you have&mdash;he taught me that the fact was to be accepted with
+joy and gladness."</p>
+
+<p>"Joy and gladness are not inconsistent with humility."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not denyin' your right to be joyful, but your right to preach."</p>
+
+<p>"Tabitha Cone, you'd try the patience of a saint!"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>If</i> I had the opportunity!" And so, with whetted swords they plunged
+into the fray.</p>
+
+<p>The newcomer was graciously welcomed at Stormpoint, though Paula
+bewailed her selection of abode, tending, as it did, to frustrate
+certain plans, which were to result in alluring Natalie to the
+sheltering arms of St. Perpetua. Paula was confident of the courage of
+Father Cameril, but even a brave man may hesitate to pluck a jewel from
+the den of a lion, and she knew that to such a den the good Father
+likened the home of Miss Claghorn.</p>
+
+<p>But Mrs. Joe approved Natalie's choice. "Miss Achsah's her blood
+relation," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"What is blood? An accident. Friendship is born of sympathy," protested
+Paula.</p>
+
+<p>"And since that is the basis of our friendship," observed Natalie, "you
+will understand that when my grand-aunt offered me a home on the ground
+of duty, I also recognized a duty."</p>
+
+<p>"A home on the ground of duty," repeated Paula, with as near an approach
+to a sneer as she was capable of effecting.</p>
+
+<p>"Could she feel affection, who had never seen me? Remember, she stood in
+the place of mother to my father. I fear she had reason to believe that
+the fact had been forgotten."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Joe nodded approval.</p>
+
+<p>"Inclination would have led me to you," Natalie proceeded. "It may be,
+too, that I was influenced by the hope that I might, in some degree,
+brighten the life of an old woman who had outlived her near relations. I
+remembered how Cousin Jared, whom we all liked so well, reverenced her.
+And then, I approved her pride in the name. I, too, am a Claghorn."</p>
+
+<p>"In short," commented Mrs. Joe, "you recognized a duty, as I believed
+you would, and you did right. Good will come of it," she added, "a bond
+between the houses."</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, the lady's conscience was troubled. She was naturally
+candid and hospitable, yet in respect to Natalie, she had done violence
+to both attributes. In that invitation, sent in accordance with her
+promise to Paula, she had been careful to recognize the prior claim of
+Miss Claghorn, thus virtually indicating Natalie's proper course. It had
+been hard for her to close the gates of Stormpoint upon one whom she
+regarded with affection, yet Mr. Hacket's counsel had outweighed
+inclination. That gentleman was, indeed, teaching some hard lessons to
+the lady of Stormpoint. It was almost unbearable that this wooden and
+yellow man, who secretly aroused all the antagonism of which she was
+capable, should direct her domestic affairs; yet she bore it smilingly,
+as was seemly in a politician, whose skin may smart, but who must grin.
+For, Mr. Hacket's command was wise. To add an infidel to her household
+of religious suspects would be a rash act which Hampton might not
+forgive. She had no doubt that Natalie's unbelief would become known,
+and if it did not, the fact that she was French would presuppose
+Romanism, and excite comment. Were Stormpoint to harbor a Papist, one
+concerning whom there could be no saving doubt, such as existed for its
+present inmates, all her plans might be jeopardized. In the eyes of the
+descendants of the Puritans, the adherents of St. Perpetua would be
+convicted as followers of the scarlet woman, and if the red rag of
+Romanism were flaunted in seeming defiance, Mark's incipient career of
+statesmanship might meet with a serious check.</p>
+
+<p>On the other hand, there was comfort in the thought that all unpleasant
+possibilities would be avoided by Natalie's sojourn with Miss Achsah.
+Infidel or Romanist, in whatever light regarded, the dwellers in
+Easthampton would know with approval that the competent owner of the
+White House had the stray sheep in charge, and would anticipate
+triumphant rescue of the endangered soul, providentially sheltered where
+food of life would be daily offered. There would be also general
+satisfaction that to Miss Achsah had been given a task worthy the
+exercise of those energies which, in the cause of truth, she was apt to
+exhibit in domestic circles not her own, to the great terror of the
+members thereof. Mrs. Joe, herself, could find occasion to evince
+commendation of the expected efforts of Miss Claghorn, and, while
+placating that lady, could emphasize her own Protestantism. In fact,
+several birds might be slain with this single stone.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2>
+
+<h3>SUR LE PONT D'AVIGNON ON Y DANSE, ON Y DANSE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>It was, perhaps, because she was conscience-stricken that Mrs. Joe
+essayed to make atonement to Natalie by being especially confiding with
+her. We know, also, that she saw an opportunity of strengthening those
+bonds between Stormpoint and the White House, which Mr. Hacket insisted
+it was advisable to make as close as possible; for it became day by day
+more evident that Miss Achsah had taken her new inmate into her heart of
+hearts; other motives there may have been; certain it is that next to
+her yellow adviser, whom she loathed with a deeper loathing each time
+that she saw him anew, she opened her heart to Natalie in regard to
+those cherished projects which concerned Mark.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to see him famous," she said. "It will be harder for him than
+for others, because of this wretched money."</p>
+
+<p>"He has more talent than most, and, I think, sincerity," replied
+Natalie, pausing on the last word.</p>
+
+<p>The elder lady looked sharply at the speaker. The two were alone
+together; occasionally they could hear the strains of Paula's organ from
+the distant music-room. "You saw much of him after he left the
+University?" she questioned.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, he was with us constantly for a time." The widow had a fine sense
+of hearing, which she strained to the utmost to note what might be told
+in the tone that remained untold by the words. She was quite aware that
+Mark had been for weeks a daily visitor, if not an actual inmate, of the
+household of Beverley Claghorn. She had herself arranged that it should
+be so; but she had not then feared possibilities, which had engaged her
+thoughts a good deal since she had heard of the rupture between the
+Marquise and Natalie. The tone of the girl's voice told her nothing, and
+the eyes that met her own were serene.</p>
+
+<p>"I wished Mark to remain abroad until Stormpoint was complete. I wished
+to surprise him, and impress him with the fact that I am in earnest,
+that this place is but a means to an end."</p>
+
+<p>"It is a beautiful and a fitting home for what he is and aspires to be."</p>
+
+<p>"It will help. What has he said to you about Stormpoint?"</p>
+
+<p>"You forget that I have not seen him since he made its acquaintance."</p>
+
+<p>"Surely he was not so neglectful as not to write!"</p>
+
+<p>"He wrote to my father. I don't recall what he said about Stormpoint."</p>
+
+<p>The eyes bent upon the girl, who looked steadily out of the window at
+the sea, were keen and questioning. "Pardon me, Natalie, I hope the
+breach between you and the Marquise is not irreparable," said the lady
+softly.</p>
+
+<p>Natalie looked up smiling. "Indeed, I hope not. I am not angry with her,
+though she is with me."</p>
+
+<p>"I can hardly be sorry that you disappointed her&mdash;I never fancied her
+lieutenant&mdash;but I was surprised. I had supposed the matter settled with
+your consent."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear father, it seems, did so arrange it. I quite appreciate her
+standpoint and know that she has much to forgive. Naturally, she
+approves of the customs of her country. Unfortunately, I was not trained
+strictly <i>à la mode Française</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"The French custom as regards betrothal is repulsive; but I supposed you
+were French&mdash;and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I must have inherited independent views. I might have acquiesced had I
+not seen too much of Adolphe. You are not to think badly of him&mdash;only
+that he is unendurable."</p>
+
+<p>"That is more damning than faint praise," laughed Mrs. Joe; "but I
+understand. Well, my dear, since you decline to become a 'female
+Markis,' as Mr. Weller has it, we must do as well for you as possible in
+a republic that offers no nobles."</p>
+
+<p>"I am quite content with things as they are."</p>
+
+<p>"That, of course, is eminently proper; but we are all slaves of destiny
+and there is one always possible to maidens. We shall select a permanent
+city home as soon as I can consult Mark; meanwhile we shall not spend
+our winters here; and in the winter Miss Achsah must reward our
+forbearance by surrendering you to us."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall be glad to be with you and Paula sometimes; but, Mrs. Joe, you
+know I am only visiting my aunt. I intend to have a home of my own."</p>
+
+<p>"That will come. Perhaps it will be with me for a time, if you can bear
+with another old woman. Mark and Paula will want their own
+establishment. Of course, they'll have Stormpoint."</p>
+
+<p>She had sped her bolt. If it had been needless, it was harmless; if it
+had wounded, so much the more was it needed. But she felt mean&mdash;in the
+proper frame to meet Mr. Hacket, who was announced, to the relief of
+both.</p>
+
+<p>The distant organ notes must have been pleasing to the ear, for, after
+Mrs. Joe had gone, Natalie sat long, listening and motionless; they must
+have been tender, for tears glistened in her eyes. When they ceased she
+rose and left the room and the house. In the grounds she found Paula,
+who said, "I came out at this moment, and saw that," pointing to the
+buggy; "then I knew that you would soon be here."</p>
+
+<p>They strolled to a sheltered nook of the cliffside, and thence looked
+out upon the silver sea, peaceful under the summer sky.</p>
+
+<p>"One could hardly believe that it could ever be angry," said Paula, "but
+you shall see it in fury; then it will be awful."</p>
+
+<p>"It is awful now."</p>
+
+<p>"Now!" exclaimed Paula. "Why, it is as serene as the sky above it."</p>
+
+<p>"But think what it hides. Listen to the moan; see the swell of its heavy
+sighs."</p>
+
+<p>"Natalie, I have discovered something!"</p>
+
+<p>"Like Columbus," laughed Natalie.</p>
+
+<p>"You are like the sea to-day. The surface wavelets laugh in the glint of
+the sun; but sadness is beneath. The sea hides sorrow; and you are so.
+You and Mark&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>And there she stopped. The other knew why. Paula was looking straight at
+her face, and she knew that her face had suddenly told a story.</p>
+
+<p>"Does the sea remind you of Mark?" she asked in even tones, guarding her
+secret in her manner of utterance.</p>
+
+<p>"Of both of you," answered Paula, who had quickly turned a somewhat
+troubled gaze upon the water. "Natalie," she added, rather hurriedly,
+"there is a balm for every sorrow, a sure one. <i>That</i>"&mdash;she slightly
+emphasized the word&mdash;"is why I thought of you in connection with Mark.
+Ah, if he were only religious!"</p>
+
+<p>"Then he would be perfect, you think." She laughed, and Paula laughed,
+but the merriment seemed hollow.</p>
+
+<p>"Nobody can be perfect," said Paula, after the pause which had followed
+the unmeaning mirth. She spoke in a low tone and timidly, but for that
+reason all the more engagingly; "but so far as perfection can be
+attained, it can only be with the aid of religion."</p>
+
+<p>It was one of the words in season, which Natalie had become accustomed
+to hear from those about her, and which from this exhorter she always
+liked to hear. There was an atmosphere of calm about Paula and a
+serenity in her face which fascinated the unbeliever. And her
+admonitions, if timidly uttered, were sincere. It was as though the
+young preacher, though longing for a convert, feared to frighten the
+disciple away.</p>
+
+<p>Natalie bent over and kissed the girl's cheek. "Is he unhappy? Mark, I
+mean."</p>
+
+<p>"His life is evidence that he is not happy. He wanders aimlessly. Cousin
+Alice built Stormpoint for him, yet he leaves it."</p>
+
+<p>"His large interests compel his wanderings."</p>
+
+<p>"He has agents who make them unnecessary. Cousin Alice needs him."</p>
+
+<p>"You would be glad to have him home?"</p>
+
+<p>Paula looked up; her sparkling eyes answered the question. There was a
+pause.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope he will come," said Natalie, after awhile, "and that you will
+have your wish."</p>
+
+<p>"That he will become religious? I pray for it, so it must come."</p>
+
+<p>Natalie took her hand and held it. "And you believe that religion
+insures happiness?" She was willing to hold on to this topic.</p>
+
+<p>"I know it. The peace of God which passeth understanding. Do not turn
+from it, Natalie."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not. I am not a scoffer. I think that I, too, could love God, only
+I am densely ignorant."</p>
+
+<p>"But you can be enlightened. Father Cameril&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Natalie smiled. "I hardly think he would be the teacher I would choose.
+I would prefer you."</p>
+
+<p>"To enlighten your ignorance! I am myself ignorant. I believe&mdash;I know no
+more." This sounded prettily from pretty lips, and Paula was honest;
+but, as a matter of fact, she had some theological pretensions, a truth
+which she for the moment forgot.</p>
+
+<p>"How is that possible?" asked the infidel. "I could believe, if I knew."</p>
+
+<p>"We cannot understand everything."</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;almost nothing, therefore&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"We have a revelation."</p>
+
+<p>"Which reveals nothing to me. I wish it did."</p>
+
+<p>"Natalie, you demand too much. We are not permitted to know everything.
+We cannot be divine."</p>
+
+<p>"And yet we can speak very positively; as if, indeed, we knew it
+all&mdash;some of us. But if nobody knows, nobody can be sure."</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot argue; but I can tell you who tells me. God Himself. God
+speaks to the heart."</p>
+
+<p>"Paula," cried the other, with startling earnestness, "I, too, have a
+heart. Teach me how to believe, and of all the wise you will be the
+wisest. Do I not know that life is barren? that the love of man cannot
+fill the heart? Ah! Paula, if that can do it, teach me the love of God!"</p>
+
+<p>The tone rose almost to a cry. Paula was awed as a perception of the
+truth came upon her that here was a skeptic with religious longings
+greater than her own. "Natalie," she murmured, hiding her face on the
+shoulder of her companion, "we are told to ask. Pray, Natalie, to the
+One that knows it all."</p>
+
+<p>"And will you pray for me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do."</p>
+
+<p>"And do you pray for Mark?"</p>
+
+<p>"Surely."</p>
+
+<p>"And you know that my prayers will be answered?"</p>
+
+<p>"I know it&mdash;in God's good time."</p>
+
+<p>"I will pray, Paula."</p>
+
+<p>They kissed one another, as though sealing a compact. No doubt Paula
+breathed a petition for her who, still in darkness, craved for light.
+Natalie prayed for the happiness of Mark Claghorn, and that she might
+forget him and resign him to the saint whose lips she pressed.</p>
+
+<p>Then she went home. In the hall of the White House she met Tabitha.
+"Come!" she exclaimed, seizing that elderly damsel about the waist.
+"<i>Dansons</i>, Tabitha; hop, skip! <i>Sur le pont d'Avignon on y danse, on y
+danse!</i>" and she trilled her lay and whirled the astonished spinster
+around until both were breathless.</p>
+
+<p>"My sakes! Have you gone crazy?" exclaimed Tabitha.</p>
+
+<p>"Come to my senses!" replied Natalie, laughing merrily.</p>
+
+<p>"I never saw you so French before," was Tabitha's comment.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2>
+
+<h3>WARBLINGS IN THE WHITE HOUSE AND SNARES FOR A SOUL.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Achsah Claghorn, for many years lonely, with maternal instincts steadily
+suppressed, had found the first opportunity of a long life to gratify
+cravings of which she had been until now unconscious. Coyly, even with
+trembling, she sought the love of her grand-niece, being herself
+astonished, as much as she astonished others, by an indulgent tenderness
+seemingly foreign to her character. Grandmothers, though once severe as
+mothers, are often overfond in their last maternal role, and it may be
+that Miss Claghorn pleased herself by the fiction of a relationship
+which, though not actually existent, had some foundation in long-past
+conditions.</p>
+
+<p>"Did your father never speak of me?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Often, Aunt. Especially of late years, after we had met Cousin Jared."</p>
+
+<p>"But not with much affection?"</p>
+
+<p>Natalie was somewhat at a loss. "He said you were his second mother,"
+was her reply.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Susan&mdash;that was your grandmother, my dear. She was a gentle,
+loving creature. I think now, though perhaps I did not at the time, that
+'Liph was lonely after she died. Ours was a dull house," she continued,
+after a pause. "Your grandfather lived more in heaven than on earth,
+which made it gloomy for us that didn't. Saints are not comfortable to
+live with, and 'Liph was often in disgrace. I hope I was never hard to a
+motherless boy, but&mdash;but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure you were not. My father never said so."</p>
+
+<p>"Yet he forgot me. Perhaps it was pleasanter not to remember."</p>
+
+<p>There was no reply to make. Natalie knew that her father had been so
+well content to forget his relatives that, until the unexpected meeting
+in Germany, her own knowledge of the Claghorns had been very vague.</p>
+
+<p>"'Liph did write me when he married, even promised to come and see me,
+but he never came."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Claghorn forgot the fact that in reply to her nephew's letter she
+had deplored his connection with Romanism and had urged instant
+attention to the duty of converting his wife. The philosopher may have
+justly enough felt that there could be but little sympathy between
+himself and one whose congratulations on his nuptials were in part a
+wail of regret, in part an admonitory sermon.</p>
+
+<p>"You know, Aunt, he did intend to come."</p>
+
+<p>"To see Mrs. Joe&mdash;well, no doubt he would have been glad to see me, too.
+I am sorry we never met after so many years."</p>
+
+<p>Besides the tenderness displayed to Natalie alone, there were evidences
+of change in the mistress of the White House, apparent to all; and while
+these were properly ascribed to the new inmate, the fact that that
+influence could work such wonders excited surprise. The neighbors were
+astonished to behold the novel sight of perennially open parlor windows,
+and thought with misgiving upon the effect of sunshine on Miss
+Claghorn's furniture. At times strange sounds issued from the hitherto
+silent dwelling, operatic melodies, or snatches of chansons, trilled
+forth in a foreign tongue. "The tunes actually get into my legs,"
+observed Tabitha to a neighbor. "The sobber de mong pare'd make an elder
+dance," an assertion which astonished the neighbor less than Miss Cone's
+familiarity with the French language. But comment was actually stricken
+dumb when both Miss Claghorn and Tabitha appeared in public with sprigs
+of color in their headgear and visible here and there upon their
+raiment.</p>
+
+<p>"I believe you'd bewitch Old Nick himself," observed Tabitha.</p>
+
+<p>"I have," replied Natalie. "He's promised me a shrub."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't mean Nick that brings the garden sass," and the spinster
+groaned at the benighted condition of one so ignorant as to fail to
+recognize a familiar appellation of the enemy of souls. "You've worked
+your grand-aunt out of a horse."</p>
+
+<p>"Your voice is that of an oracle, Tab, and I, who am stupid, do not
+understand."</p>
+
+<p>"She's going to give you a horse."</p>
+
+<p>"Then should you not rather say that I have worked a horse out of my
+grand-aunt? which is still oracular; wherefore expound, Tab."</p>
+
+<p>"She told me herself. It's my belief she's in love with you. She'd give
+you her head, if you asked."</p>
+
+<p>"She's given me her heart, which is better. And so have you; and you're
+both ashamed of it. Why is that, Tabby?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well," replied Tabitha, making no denial, "you see we're not
+French&mdash;thank God! When we were young we were kept down, as was the
+fashion."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not like that fashion."</p>
+
+<p>"You'd like it less if you knew anything about it. It has to come out
+some time; that's the reason your songs get into my legs, and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And?" questioningly, for Tabitha had paused.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, your aunt was never in love&mdash;never had the chance, 's far's I
+know; but if she had, it had to be kept down&mdash;and now it comes out.
+Lucky it didn't strike an elder with a raft of children and no money."</p>
+
+<p>"Much better that it has struck me than an elder&mdash;that will be a friar.
+I have no children, some money and a whole heart. But this tale of a
+horse?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ever since you told us about ridin' in the Bawdy Bolone she's had
+Leonard on the lookout. He's found one over to Moffat's. She wants you
+to look at it before she buys."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I know&mdash;you've money of your own to buy horses. That's what she's
+afraid you'll say. You mustn't. She's set her heart on it."</p>
+
+<p>The horse was accepted without demur, if with some secret misgiving as
+to adding a new link to the chain which was binding her to Easthampton;
+and it was peculiarly grateful. Ever since that day when Natalie had
+astonished Tabitha by improvising a waltz, her gaiety had been
+feverish, almost extravagant, the result of a craving for physical
+excitement; the desire to jump, to run, to leap, to execute for
+Tabitha's delectation dances which would have made Miss Claghorn stare.
+The horse in some degree filled the craving. She rode constantly,
+sometimes alone, galloping wildly in secluded lanes; sometimes sedately
+with Paula and an attendant; often with Leonard, an ardent equestrian, a
+fact not forgotten by the donor of the horse when the gift was made.</p>
+
+<p>In the eyes of Miss Achsah, as in other eyes, Leonard embodied the
+finest type of the fine race to which he belonged, combining in his
+person physical graces not generally vouchsafed to these favorites of
+heaven, as well as those nobler attributes with which they had been so
+liberally endowed, and which rendered them worthy of the celestial
+preference. It was religious to believe that these graces of person and
+of manner were not given without a purpose, and aided by the same pious
+deduction which usually recognizes in similar charms a snare of Satan,
+Miss Claghorn beheld in this instance a device of Providence for winning
+a soul.</p>
+
+<p>Besides the facilities for conversion thus utilized, Miss Achsah
+discerned other grounds for hope. In the frequent lapses into
+thoughtfulness, even sadness, on the part of the unbeliever, she
+recognized the beginning of that spiritual agitation which was to result
+in the complete submission of the erring soul to heaven; nor was she
+negligent in dropping those words which, dropped in season, may afford
+savory and sustaining food to a hungry spirit. Had Natalie displayed
+that mental agony and tribulation which naturally accompanies the fear
+of hell, and which is, therefore, a frequent preliminary terror of
+conversion, Miss Claghorn would have called in her pastor, as in
+physical ills she would have called in the doctor; but since Natalie
+displayed nothing more than frequent thoughtfulness and melancholy, and,
+as with some natures (and the lady knew it was true of the Claghorn
+nature) antagonism is aroused by over-solicitude, she easily persuaded
+herself that, for the present at least, the case was better in the
+competent hands of Leonard, to whom she solemnly confided it. She feared
+the treatment of a more experienced, yet perhaps harsher practitioner,
+whose first idea would be the necessity of combating Romanism. For the
+secret of Natalie's unbelief remained undisclosed, and Miss Claghorn
+dreaded such disclosure as sure to bring disgrace upon the family name.
+Finally, she had another reason, not the least important, for providing
+Leonard with the chance of winning that soul, which she hoped would
+become for him the most precious of the souls of men.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE SECRET OF HER HEART WAS NEVER TO BE TOLD BY HER TO HIM.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"She must be warned from Father Cameril," said Miss Claghorn.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you suppose <i>he</i> could influence her?" observed Leonard scornfully.
+"I shall not forget my duty, Cousin Achsah. Meanwhile, remember that she
+is a Claghorn. That means something."</p>
+
+<p>"A great deal; still, there was her father&mdash;and Lettie Stanley&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I think you are rather hard on her. I believe that Mrs. Stanley is a
+good woman."</p>
+
+<p>"Will goodness alone attain heaven?"</p>
+
+<p>Leonard did not answer. Mrs. Stanley's chances of heaven had no great
+interest for him.</p>
+
+<p>If he seemed somewhat less solicitous than Miss Claghorn had expected it
+was because already his musings were tending in a direction not
+theological. "How lovely she is!" This had been his thought on his first
+visit to Easthampton, while Natalie's little hand still lay in his in
+welcome. He noted, as he watched her afterward, the fitful sadness of
+her eyes, and longed to share her unknown sorrow. He saw the ripe red
+lips and his bosom glowed, his eyes grew dreamy and his cheeks flushed
+pink. He had never, so Paula averred, been as handsome as on that
+evening.</p>
+
+<p>He was now a daily visitor, equally welcome at the White House or at
+Stormpoint, and the relations between the two establishments were such
+that a hope arose within the bosom of Mrs. Joe that she might be able to
+report to Mr. Hacket that Miss Claghorn had actually dined with the
+Bishop. She ventured to confide to Miss Achsah certain aspirations in
+regard to Mark, and her confidence was well received and her plans
+applauded. Miss Claghorn thought it fitting that Mark, who was nearer
+to her in blood than Leonard, should assume in worldly affairs that
+eminence which in higher matters would be Leonard's. It was plain that
+when the time came such influence as she possessed would be used in
+Mark's behalf, barring some untoward circumstance, which Mrs. Joe was
+resolved should not occur. And to prevent it she warned Father Cameril
+that his wiles were not to be practised upon Natalie. His prayers, her
+own and Paula's, she informed him, must, for the present, suffice. She
+was aware that Miss Claghorn had personally taken charge of a matter
+which, to do Mrs. Joe justice, she regarded as of supreme importance.
+But, St. Perpetua notwithstanding, her opinions were liberal. She
+supposed that good people went to heaven, and she was not sternly rigid
+in her definition of goodness. As to where bad people went, her ideas
+were vague. She did not question Miss Claghorn's Christianity, though
+she did not admire its quality, but she knew that on the first attempt
+to entice Natalie by the allurements presented by St. Perpetua, the
+bonds of amity now existing would be strained. She even went so far as
+to assure her sister-in-law that Father Cameril should be "kept in his
+place," an assurance which was accepted with the grim rejoinder that it
+were well that he be so kept.</p>
+
+<p>Wherefore, it would seem that those exalted aspirations which had warmed
+Leonard's bosom, when he had learned from Paula that his French cousin
+was to be a resident of Easthampton, would be reawakened, and that he
+would gladly attempt their realization. Alas! other, and more alluring
+visions, engaged his senses.</p>
+
+<p>To say that he had loved the maid, Berthe, is only to say that which
+would be true of any man of similar temperament under similar
+circumstances. The kiss of those lips, over which he had so rapturously
+lingered, had been his first taste of passion. It may be a sorrowful,
+but it is not a surprising, fact, that it should affect him violently
+and color his dreams of a sentiment hitherto unknown. He had taken a
+long step in a pathway which was to lead him far, though he was as
+ignorant of the fact as he was of the fact that, in this respect, his
+education had commenced unfortunately.</p>
+
+<p>He was sufficiently a man of the world to be aware that the emotion in
+which he had reveled could have no satisfactory result. He would no more
+have considered the advisability of marrying Natalie's maid than would
+the Marquis de Fleury; and as to any other possibility, such as
+perchance might have occupied the mind of the noble Marquis, it never
+even entered his thoughts. In his ignorance he was innocent, and had he
+been less so, would still have possessed in the moral lessons of his
+training a sufficient safeguard. Yet the kiss was to have its results.
+Woman's lips would, to him, bear a different aspect from that of
+heretofore.</p>
+
+<p>And so the days passed very happily, though Leonard's conscience often
+pricked him. Natalie's soul was still in danger.</p>
+
+<p>"Cousin," he said one day&mdash;they were sitting among the trees of
+Stormpoint, the girl sketching, he watching her&mdash;"Do you&mdash;&mdash;?" He
+stopped, blushing.</p>
+
+<p>She thought the blush very engaging as she looked up with a smile. Women
+rarely looked upon the handsome, innocent face, except smilingly. "Do I
+what, Leonard?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you ever think of religion? I am a clergyman, Natalie."</p>
+
+<p>"I think a great deal of religion." Her eyes fell before his. He had
+touched a secret corner of her heart, and at first she shrank; yet the
+touch pleased her; not less so because of his manner which, though he
+was secretly ashamed of it, was in his favor. It was not easy for him to
+discuss the topic with her, to play the role of teacher and enlarge upon
+a theme which was far from his thoughts. The fact lent him the grace of
+embarrassment, leading her to believe that the topic was to him a sacred
+one. Truly, her soul was burdened. Who more apt to aid her than this
+young devotee, who had consecrated a life to that knowledge for which
+she yearned?</p>
+
+<p>"You know, Natalie, as a minister&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It is your duty to convert me," she interrupted, looking again upward,
+and smiling. "That is what Tabitha says."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps Tabitha is right. I think I ought."</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose you were to try, what would you have me do?"</p>
+
+<p>What would he have her do? The man within him cried: "I would have you
+love me, kiss me, pillow my head upon your breast and let me die there!"
+But the man within him was audible only to him. "I would advise you to
+read"&mdash;he stopped. What he had been about to say was so utterly
+incongruous&mdash;to advise reading the Westminster Confession, when he
+longed to call upon her to read the secrets of his soul!</p>
+
+<p>"I have read enough," she answered. "Lately I have done better"&mdash;she
+hesitated; he noted the flushed cheek and downcast eyes, the tremulous
+tone of her voice. She was affected, he believed, religiously. He
+remembered the day on the terrace of Heidelberg, when he had so yearned
+over the wandering soul, and again with his love&mdash;for he knew it was
+love, and always had been&mdash;was mingled the higher aspiration to
+reconcile the wayward spirit with its Maker. He would have taken her
+hand, but he felt tremulously shy. "What have you done?" he asked
+gently.</p>
+
+<p>Much had been told her of the sweet relief of confession to a priest.
+Here was a confessor, sympathetic, she knew from his tone. Yet she had
+no sins to confess (belief in which incongruity demonstrates her state
+of darkness).</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;have prayed," she said at length, and the shy admission seemed to
+create a bond between them. Another shared her confidence, and the fact
+lightened her spirit. She told herself it was so, and had it been true
+the future might have been brighter; but the real secret of her heart
+was never to be told by her to him. She looked up, a faint sheen of
+tears in her eyes, a smile upon her lips.</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, you have done better," he answered, the eyes and the smile
+summoning that inner man with a power hard to resist. "You need no
+guidance from me," he said huskily. "God bless and help you, Natalie!"
+He placed a trembling hand upon her head, as was seemly in a priest,
+and, turning abruptly, walked away.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" she sighed, as she watched him. "There must be something in
+religion. Fräulein Rothe was right, and my dear father was wrong."</p>
+
+<p>Thus Leonard's fears concerning Natalie's salvation were quieted. If she
+prayed, it was plain that she was called, and though her ears might
+still be deaf, she would hear in the appointed time.</p>
+
+<p>Had he comprehended her utter misapprehension as to orthodox tenets, he
+might have been awakened to a stricter sense of duty. But this was his
+first heathen, and he is hardly to be blamed that he did not recognize
+the extent of her ignorance; or, in his lack of knowledge of humanity,
+at all to be blamed that he failed to discern the true nature of her
+religious cravings, alluring to her soul because her soul was hungry;
+for God, perhaps&mdash;for who shall say that God has no part in human
+love?&mdash;but not for Leonard's God. He had never been informed of the
+deceased philosopher's method of training, and would, certainly, have
+doubted its success had he known of it. That one could attain years of
+discretion in a Christian country, lacking even an elementary knowledge
+of Christian doctrine, would have been to Leonard incredible. He could
+not remember the time that he had not known that in Adam's fall we all
+fell, and that had there been no Atonement there would be no Salvation.
+For so much, and similar doctrinal essentials, he accorded Natalie full
+credit; and, since she had escaped the taint of Romanism, he felt that
+no real obstacle stood in the way of her growth in grace.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, Natalie had no more knowledge that, unless her name had been
+from before creation inscribed upon the roll of the elect, she must, for
+the glory of God, infallibly be damned, than has a Patagonian. She felt
+that outside of humanity there was something on which humanity must
+lean, and that it was God. Priests, sisters of charity and sweet girls
+like Paula knew about God, and all these had told her that the way to
+find out what they knew was to pray; and, in her outer darkness, she
+prayed, her prayers the prayers of a heathen; not heard in heaven, if we
+are correctly informed as to heaven's willingness to hear. Yet to her
+they brought some solace. And in her petitions for enlightenment of her
+ignorance, she besought happiness for others, not for Mark Claghorn
+only; henceforth she included the name of Leonard.</p>
+
+<p>As for him, he was no longer haunted by troublesome recollections of
+Berthe. He thought of her, it is true, and with tenderness, though with
+a smile, and accusing himself of youthfulness. He was now sure that he
+had never seriously loved her. It had been a <i>penchant</i>, a <i>petit
+amour</i>&mdash;the Gallic flavor of the words was not altogether
+ungrateful&mdash;and the experience would have its uses. These things
+happened to some men; happy they who escaped them; a humdrum life was
+safer. Sinning was dangerous; to weaklings, fatal; such a one would have
+been burned in the ordeal of fire. He had escaped, nor had he any
+intention of being again taken unawares. He did not attempt to palliate
+the grave wrong of which he had been guilty; he would have resented such
+palliation on the part of an apologist. In certain sins there lurks a
+tinge of glory, and one has a right, accepting the blame, to appropriate
+the glory. But his resolve that the one misstep should be the last, as
+it had been the first of his life, was sternly made. He was strong now,
+and was glad to admit that much of his strength derived its power from a
+sweeter passion glowing in his bosom. His heart swelled with joy that he
+could love, feeling only such misgivings as lovers must. It was a sin to
+love and long for Berthe whom he wouldn't marry. To transfer to Natalie
+the love he had given to Berthe, to hunger and to burn, to feed his eyes
+upon the outward form, unheeding the fairer creature within, to revel in
+visions and forbidden dreams&mdash;this was love, this the lesson his
+carefully guarded life had prepared him to learn from wanton lips.</p>
+
+<p>Who, being in love, has not shown himself to the loved one at his best?
+If he was unquiet within, he was sufficiently tranquil in manner to
+avoid any startling manifestation of ardor. If there was art in the
+graceful coyness of his approach, it was unconscious art. To Natalie he
+appeared with more alluring gentleness, and surer fascination, than the
+most practised veteran of love's battles. She had seen chivalrous
+elegance so studied as to charm by its seeming unaffectedness; but the
+most successful picture is not reality, and in Leonard she noted the
+nature superior to art; nature softened and adorned by demeanor graced
+and made tender by the inward tremors of love, as a rugged landscape is
+beautified by the mellow tint of a gray day.</p>
+
+<p>Above all, though if this was known in secret it was unconfessed, was
+Leonard aided by that which was to be forever hidden in the woman's
+heart. There were rumors of Mark's return, rumors which agitated
+Natalie, strive as she might to look forward to that return without
+emotion. How could she leave the home where love had been so generously
+bestowed? Mrs. Joe would no longer be ashamed that she had given her
+warning&mdash;and Natalie had not been sorry to believe that the lady was
+ashamed&mdash;for she would know that it had been needed. And Miss
+Claghorn&mdash;how would she understand it? How Paula? Perhaps she saw, if
+but dimly yet, an escape from the perplexities which inspired the
+questions.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>A LOVER WRITES A LETTER.</h3>
+
+
+<p>If a Parisian philosopher, animated by the love of that wisdom which is
+deducible by philosophic methods from the study of mankind, had emerged
+from his abode, on a certain summer evening, in quest of the solution of
+that great riddle, Why is this thus? and, seeking an answer, had scanned
+the visages of the passers upon the Boulevard, he would, perhaps, have
+noticed the face and bearing of a man who strolled alone and listless;
+and, it being a fine evening of early summer, at an hour when,
+philosophers having dined, are ruminative, he might have fallen into
+speculation, and asking himself the meaning of this man's face, would,
+perhaps, have deduced discontent, becoming habitual and tending toward
+cynicism; and if a philosopher of the weeping, rather than the laughing
+variety, he would have mourned over the atom of humanity, beneath whose
+careworn lines and shadows of dissatisfaction there lay forgotten noble
+promise. And, to sum up the philosophic conclusions (for, like other
+philosophers, our hypothetical lover of wisdom is growing tiresome) he,
+being aware of the cause of much mundane misery, might have decided that
+the man had lost money, and would have been wrong, for the man was one
+whom financial loss could hardly touch. The Great Serpent might refuse
+to yield for weeks, aye forever, and Mark Claghorn would have been
+content. In truth, its annual product was a burden heavier than he
+thought he ought, in fairness, to be called upon to bear. He liked
+companionship, being naturally well disposed toward his fellows, yet, as
+he said to himself, the loneliness of this evening stroll in the centre
+of mirth and good fellowship had its reason in his wealth. A man such as
+he, so he told himself, is forced, in the nature of things, to purchase
+all the joys of life, and being purchased they had but slight attraction
+for him; thus ordinarily he was solitary and somewhat given to
+brooding, though wise enough to utter no complaint on a score wherein he
+certainly would have found but slight sympathy.</p>
+
+<p>He strolled on, paying little heed to any, except when occasionally the
+clank of a sabre or the faint jingle of a spur signified a cavalryman in
+the vicinity; then he would glance at the cavalryman, and with a quickly
+satisfied curiosity, pass on, listless as before.</p>
+
+<p>He entered a cafe, and calling for a "bock," lit a cigar and proceeded
+to seek distraction in tobacco and beer, while looking over the pages of
+the "<i>Vie Parisienne</i>," but apparently found no amusement in that very
+Gallic periodical. At last he drew a letter from his pocket. "Little
+Paula," he muttered, as he opened the sheet, and his tone was kindly, if
+not tender. "I suppose, in the end, my mother will see the fulfilment of
+the wish she thinks so carefully concealed," he muttered, and then, as
+if to find encouragement to filial duty in the letter itself, he
+commenced to read, and was thus engaged when he felt a hand upon his
+shoulder, and heard the exclamation, "Claghorn!" He looked up and,
+rising, accepted the outstretched hand of Adolphe de Fleury.</p>
+
+<p>"I was not sure whether it was you or your ghost," said Adolphe. "When
+did you leave America?"</p>
+
+<p>"Over a year since," replied Mark; then, unmindful of the look of
+surprise in the face of his companion, he added: "I hoped I might meet
+you. I am only here for a few hours, and the opportunity to congratulate
+you&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"To congratulate! May I ask why I am to be congratulated?" interrupted
+the lieutenant.</p>
+
+<p>"Usually a newly married man; or one about to be&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Claghorn, you can hardly&mdash;do you mean that you believed me married?"</p>
+
+<p>"Married, or about to be. I heard from the Marquise while at St.
+Petersburg&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And I have suspected you! Know, my dear fellow, though I had rather you
+heard it from somebody else, that I am very far from married. I am
+jilted; abandoned by our fair but cruel cousin, who has fled from my
+mother's protection and taken refuge among the Yankees."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean that Natalie is in America?"</p>
+
+<p>"Just that, <i>mon cher</i>, and with her Berthe of the wonderful eyes."</p>
+
+<p>Mark's innocence of all knowledge of the fact stated was evident in his
+face. He was astounded; at the same time a sense of joy swept across his
+soul. He looked hastily at his watch; it was too late to call upon the
+Marquise, unless, indeed, she had company, in which case he would not be
+able to see her alone. But, looking at his watch inspired him with an
+excuse to plead an appointment, which he did, and left his companion.</p>
+
+<p>The next day he called upon Madame de Fleury, and on his return to his
+hotel, he wrote the following letter:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"My Dear Cousin Natalie&mdash;Last night I arrived here direct from
+St. Petersburg, being merely a bird of passage, and on my way
+to London. I had expected to be there by this time, but after
+meeting Adolphe de Fleury, I deferred my departure until I
+could see the Marquise. Doubtless, my letters in London will
+convey the information which has been imparted by her. To say
+that I was surprised to hear that you had gone to America
+hardly expresses my feeling; but surprise is cast into the
+shade by gratification. Now that your reasons for the step you
+have taken have been so freely disclosed to me by Madame de
+Fleury (who insisted upon reading to me passages from your
+letters), I hope you will not regard it as intrusive in me if I
+express my admiration of your independence and complete
+approbation of your conduct. You are in spirit a true American,
+and I congratulate both you and our country upon the fact. Do
+you remember the day I said 'good-bye' to you? Had you then any
+inkling of the true reason for my adieu? Your father had just
+informed me that since girlhood you had been the betrothed of
+Adolphe de Fleury. Monsieur Claghorn at the time assured me
+that had not this been the case I should have had his good
+wishes in regard to the aspirations I had just laid before him.
+I have never laid those aspirations before you, nor can I do so
+adequately in a letter; nor at this time, when so long a period
+has elapsed since I last saw you. What I have to say must be
+said in person, and so unsatisfactory is this method of
+addressing you on the subject that I may not send this letter.</p>
+
+<p>"But, if you receive it, understand why I write it. It seems,
+perhaps, laughable&mdash;though it does not seem so to me&mdash;that I
+should be haunted by a terror which darkens the new hope that
+has arisen within me. You are thousands of miles away. True, it
+is not easily conceivable that you may become lost to me in so
+brief a residence in America, yet the idea is constantly with
+me. I blame that which I then believed the honorable reticence
+which I ought to maintain toward you after my interview with
+your father, and having heard his assurances of intentions,
+which I, of course, supposed were approved by you. Had I shown
+you the least glimpse of a sentiment which it cost me much to
+conceal, I might now be freed from the dread which oppresses
+me. I am even tempted to send you a telegraphic message; yet I
+picture you reading such a message and shrink from seeming
+ridiculous in your eyes. As to this letter, I am impelled to
+say as much as I have said while that which I desire to say is
+plainly enough indicated. I had supposed it possible to
+disclose and yet conceal it. But the letter is wiser than I
+intended it to be. My most ardent hope is that within a few
+days after its receipt you will listen to all that is here
+omitted.</p>
+
+<p>"Faithfully,</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Mark Claghorn.</span>"</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>He sent the letter, unsatisfactory and feeble as he knew it to be. He
+chafed at the necessity of deferring his departure for America; but the
+Great Serpent was importunate, and even for love a man cannot disregard
+the claims of others. Engagements connected with the mine, made long
+since, must receive attention before he could leave Europe.</p>
+
+<p>But, during the intervals of business, even pending its details, he was
+hourly tempted to send a dispatch and be ridiculous. But he refrained.
+He sailed for America four days after sending the letter. He had not
+been absurd; his dignity was saved. Who that is wise in a wise
+generation listens to intuitions?</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h2>
+
+<h3>A KISS THAT MIGHT HAVE LINGERED ON HIS LIPS WHILE SEEKING ENTRANCE AT
+THE GATE OF HEAVEN.</h3>
+
+
+<p>At the foot of the cliff whereon Mrs. Joe had erected a monument to the
+Great Serpent in the form of a castle, the ocean beats in calm weather
+with a sullen persistence which increases with the rising wind from
+spiteful lashing into furious pounding against the unshaken crag,
+accompanied by a roar of futile rage. Stormpoint affords no nook of
+shelter for a distressed craft, and the rocks, submerged beneath the
+vexed waters, render the coast hereabout even more dangerous than does
+the sheer wall of stone which appals the mariner caught in the storm and
+driven shoreward. Once around the point, the little harbor of
+Easthampton offers safety, but it has happened that vessels, unable to
+weather Stormpoint, have been dashed against the rocks and human beings
+have been tossed about in the seething foam beneath the crags; or men
+have clung to wreckage in sight of wailing wives and mothers, and of
+children to be orphaned in the rush of the next black billow.</p>
+
+<p>From the rocks hereabout no lifeboat can be launched at times when
+lifeboats are needed, therefore the coast-guard station is nearer the
+harbor, where there is a beach upon which the waves slide upward,
+spending their strength, and where even in the storm they can be ridden
+by resolute men; but no boat can live among the rocks in the raging
+waters beneath the cliff. And so, Mrs. Joe, with the approval of the
+authorities, had built on the ledge of the cliffside (enlarged and
+widened for the purpose) a house, in which were kept appliances for
+casting lines athwart wrecked craft. There were plenty to ridicule the
+benevolent lady, some on the score of the futility of preparing for an
+improbable disaster (less than a dozen ships had been lost there in a
+century; and probably not, in all that time, a hundred lives); others
+because while yet another ship might be driven thither, no human effort
+could then avert her doom. Mrs. Joe, notwithstanding these arguments,
+carried out her intention, and waited, hoping that she would never be
+justified by the event.</p>
+
+<p>One day Natalie and Leonard were in the "wreck house," as the structure
+had come to be called; a high wind, constantly increasing, was blowing,
+and from their position they saw all the grandeur of the ocean, rolling
+in majesty toward the wall of rock, an assailing mass, seeming inspired
+with malevolent intelligence and boundless strength, but, caught by the
+sunken rocks, the onset would be broken, and, bellowing with rage, each
+mighty billow would recede, only to be followed by another, as angry and
+as awful of aspect as the last.</p>
+
+<p>It was a sight before which human passion was cowed and human pride was
+humbled. As Leonard watched Natalie, silently contemplating the grandeur
+of the scene, her dark hair blowing back from the smooth white brow,
+beneath which eyes, as unfathomable as the ocean itself, looked
+yearningly out into the storm, he had a clear perception that the
+emotions he had harbored and nourished as to this woman were unworthy of
+the soul in her fathomless eyes. In the presence of nature, feebly
+stirred as yet, but with a promise of the mighty strength restrained,
+and perhaps, too, his nobler self responding unconsciously to the purity
+of the woman at his side, the grosser passion that had vexed him was
+subdued; desire for the woman was lost in desire to share the woman's
+heart.</p>
+
+<p>The darkening heavens sinking into the gloom of the ocean, where in the
+distance the rolling masses of cloud and water seemed to meet, the
+roaring wind, the waves booming on the cliff, and the boiling cauldron
+of death beneath their feet&mdash;in the presence of these things words could
+not utter thoughts unutterable; they stood long silent.</p>
+
+<p>"Who, then, is this, that He commandeth even the winds and the water,
+and they obey Him?" Leonard heard her murmur these words.</p>
+
+<p>"Who, indeed?" he said. "How can man deny God in the face of this?"</p>
+
+<p>"In the face of anything?"</p>
+
+<p>"Or deny His Revelation? Natalie, it is true."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it true?"</p>
+
+<p>"As true as the waters or the sky&mdash;Natalie, Natalie, it is true."</p>
+
+<p>His tone trembled with a tenderness deeper than the tenderness of
+passion. She looked and saw his eyes with a sheen of tears upon them; no
+gleam of earthly desire looked out of them, but the yearning for a soul.
+In the presence of the Majesty of God the nobler spirit had awakened and
+answered to the longing of the girl to know the secret of the waves, the
+rocks, the skies; the secret of herself and of the man beside her&mdash;the
+eternal truth, hidden always, yet always half revealed to questioning
+man.</p>
+
+<p>"Religion is very dear to you, Leonard?"</p>
+
+<p>"Dearer than all but God Himself. Dearer than riches, honors&mdash;dearer,
+Natalie, than the love I bear for you."</p>
+
+<p>It was said without the usual intent of lover's vows, and so she
+understood it. She made no answer.</p>
+
+<p>And then they saw a sight which made them forget all else&mdash;a
+fellow-creature, driving helplessly to destruction beneath their feet.</p>
+
+<p>It was a lad, ignorant, it would seem, of the management of the frail
+vessel in which he was the sole passenger. Even in the hands of an
+experienced sailor the little boat, intended for smooth water only,
+would have been unsafe; now, unskilfully fitted with a mast and sail,
+managed by ignorant hands, and driven toward a coast that had no
+shelter, the storm rising each moment, the outlook was desperate for the
+voyager.</p>
+
+<p>Leonard seized a trumpet from the appliances with which the wreck-house
+was furnished, and leaning far out of the window, bawled in stentorian
+tones, some order, which, whether heard by the boy or not, was unheeded.
+Indeed, the desperate situation seemed to have paralyzed him; he clung
+to the tiller with the proverbial clutch of the drowning man, utterly
+incapable of other action, if indeed other action could prevail.</p>
+
+<p>Seizing a line, Leonard ran down the stairway to a platform built
+against the cliff and not many feet above the water. Natalie followed.
+The wind was rising every moment, the tide running higher with each
+succeeding wave, and now, as she noticed, even reaching the platform.
+Leonard noticed, too. "It is not safe here," he shouted to her, for the
+wind howled in their ears and the noise of the surge emulated the noise
+of the wind. At the same time he pointed to the stairway, signifying
+that she should return, but took no further heed of her. His one thought
+was to do the thing that would save the life in peril. She did not know
+what he was about to do, but watched him, ready to lend assistance,
+though without taking her eyes from the boy in the boat. Thus far it had
+escaped the sunken rocks, but it could not long escape the shore. The
+wind had blown the sail from its fastenings and it tossed upon the
+waves. Only the whirlpool formed by the sunken rocks and the sullenly
+receding waters, which had but a moment before been hurled against the
+cliff, stayed the wreck of the craft. It needed no experienced eye to
+recognize the imminence of the peril of the boy, and the sight of the
+solitary being, helpless and exposed to the rude mercy of the waves, was
+pitiful. Natalie wrung her hands and prayed in French, and while the
+infidel prayed the clergyman acted.</p>
+
+<p>He had intended to cast the weighted end of the line across the boat and
+so give its passenger communication with the shore; even so, the case of
+the lad would have been but slightly bettered, since, though fast to the
+rope, to avoid being dashed against the rocks would be barely possible;
+but Leonard, almost in the act of throwing, saw that his intention was
+impracticable. He must wait until the boat had come a little nearer.
+Natalie, with alarm that was almost horror, saw him remove his coat and
+boots; she would have remonstrated, but she felt that remonstrance was
+useless. He stood a waiting hero, his whole being absorbed in the task
+before him. That task involved his plunging into the boiling surf, the
+very abyss of death. Who can say that some premonition of the future was
+not upon him, as, with uplifted head and watching eyes, he stood
+statue-like awaiting the supreme moment? Who knows but he was warned
+that better for him the whirlpool below than the woman at his side!</p>
+
+<p>Keenly watching the boat, his hands had still been busy, and from the
+line he had fashioned a loop, which now he fitted over his head and
+beneath his armpits. The other end of the line he secured to a ring in
+the platform, and then, having said nothing to Natalie, but now taking
+her hand in his own, and holding it tightly, he waited.</p>
+
+<p>Not long. As in a flash she saw the boat in fragments, the boy in the
+water, and in the same instant Leonard plunged in.</p>
+
+<p>She seized the line, but let it have play. Leonard had reached the boy
+in one stroke, had him in his very grasp, when a huge receding wave tore
+them asunder, and both were lost to Natalie.</p>
+
+<p>She pulled with all her strength. She knew that the boy was drowned and
+had no hope for Leonard; her hold of the rope aided in his rescue, as
+she was able to prevent his being carried away; but had it not been that
+the next wave swept him upon the platform, where he was instantly seized
+and dragged far backward by Natalie, who herself barely escaped being
+swept off, he must have been either drowned or dashed dead against the
+rocks.</p>
+
+<p>For some minutes she believed him drowned. She had dragged him to a
+place of comparative safety and he lay quite still with his head in her
+lap. But after awhile he sighed and looked into her eyes, and at last
+sat up. "The boy?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Gone," she sobbed.</p>
+
+<p>After some moments he arose, and feebly enough, assisted her to rise,
+and they sat upon the stairway, and after awhile got into the
+wreck-house. Here Leonard knew where to find restoratives, as well as a
+huge blanket, in which he wrapped himself and Natalie.</p>
+
+<p>And so they sat side by side, enveloped in one covering, both quite
+silent, until he said: "Natalie, I have been praying."</p>
+
+<p>"Teach me, Leonard."</p>
+
+<p>"While I live," he answered, and he turned his face and kissed her.</p>
+
+<p>It was the second time that he had kissed woman, but this was a kiss
+that might have lingered on his lips while seeking entrance at the gate
+of heaven.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX.</h2>
+
+<h3>A DISHONEST VEILING OF A WOMAN'S HEART.</h3>
+
+
+<p>There was joy at Stormpoint. Before the eyes of Mrs. Joe there rose the
+vision of a senate spell-bound by the resonant voice of oratory, while
+in the same foreshadowing of the time to come Paula beheld Father
+Cameril triumphant over the Bishop and strong in reliance upon the
+stalwart arm of a soldier newly enrolled in the army of the Church
+Militant. Mark had returned, and it was while gazing upon his
+countenance that these seers saw their delectable visions and dreamed
+their pleasant dreams.</p>
+
+<p>Upon this, the first evening of his return, the three sat together in
+the library of Stormpoint, Mark submitting, with that external grace
+which becomes the man placed upon a pedestal by worshipping woman, to
+the adoration of his mother and of Paula; the while secretly ungrateful
+and chafing because it was not possible to see Natalie before bedtime.</p>
+
+<p>They had dined cosily together, and the wanderer had been treated as the
+prodigal of old, the substitute for fatted calf being the choicest
+viands procurable and the rarest vintage of the Stormpoint cellar; yet
+he had not enjoyed his dinner, being oppressed by vague forebodings; and
+it was irksome to feign a smiling interest where could be no interest
+until he had received an answer to his letter to Natalie. Naturally, he
+had inquired as to the welfare of all the Claghorns of the vicinity, and
+had expressed satisfaction at replies which indicated health and
+prosperity among his relatives.</p>
+
+<p>"I would have asked them all to dinner," said Mrs. Joe, "but I knew that
+they would understand that we would be glad to have you to ourselves
+to-night. Leonard and Natalie are always considerate."</p>
+
+<p>"Leonard was always a favorite of yours," observed Mark, who did not
+greatly relish this coupling of names, and who could hardly trust
+himself to discuss Natalie.</p>
+
+<p>"A good young man," replied the lady. "He is almost one of us."</p>
+
+<p>Mark looked quizzically at Paula, who blushed but said nothing. The
+blush was a relief to him. "He is a fine fellow," he said, heartily. "I
+have always believed in Leonard, though I don't admire his profession or
+his creed. But there are good men among theologians, and I'm sure he is
+one of them."</p>
+
+<p>"But, my son," remonstrated Mrs. Joe, "that is not the way to talk of
+clergymen."</p>
+
+<p>"Fie! mother. Would you deny that there are good men among the clergy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mark, you know I meant something very different. We only wish Leonard
+was in the Church."</p>
+
+<p>"How can he be out of it, being a Christian?"</p>
+
+<p>"There is but one Church," observed Paula gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"The Holy Catholic Church," added Mrs. Joe.</p>
+
+<p>"Which term you and Paula assume as belonging especially to your
+denomination," laughed Mark. "I doubt if even your own divines would be
+so arrogant. Mother, this young saint is evidently as intolerant as
+ever; and she is making you like herself," and he placed his hand,
+kindly enough, on the girl's shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes filled with tears. "Mark," she said, "you may laugh at me, but
+religion ought to be sacred."</p>
+
+<p>"Both you and your religion ought to be, and are," he answered, and
+stooped and kissed her forehead; and, though she did not look up, for
+she dared not meet his eyes, he was forgiven.</p>
+
+<p>The elder lady was surprised, but she noted Mark's action with high
+approval. Of all the hopes that she had woven round her son, that one
+which contemplated his marriage with Paula was supreme. She had trained
+the girl for this high destiny, though, true to her instincts, she had
+been as politic in this as in other objects of ambition, and neither of
+the two whose fortunes she intended to shape were in her confidence. She
+rightly divined that nothing would so surely incite to rebellion on the
+part of Mark as an open attempt to control him in a matter of this
+nature, and was wise enough to know that a disclosure of her hopes to
+Paula would place the girl in a false position, whereby she must
+inevitably lose that engaging simplicity which, aside from her beauty,
+was her greatest charm. The lady had, as we know, been compelled by the
+exigencies of policy to impart her cherished plan to more than one
+individual; and after she had done so to Natalie, she had been in terror
+until opportunity occurred to insure silence.</p>
+
+<p>"You see, my dear," she had explained to Natalie, "he has not actually
+spoken. Paula, like any other girl so situated, knows what is coming,
+but of course&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Dear Mrs. Joe, I should not in any case have mentioned the matter."</p>
+
+<p>"I ought to have been more reticent, but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure you did what you thought best," at which reply the lady's
+color had deepened and the subject was dropped.</p>
+
+<p>Thus Mark's action rendered his mother happy, for, notwithstanding her
+sanguine disposition, she had often suffered misgivings. At times,
+during her son's frequent absences, her fears had risen high, and with
+each return home she watched him, narrowly scrutinizing his belongings,
+even going so far as to rummage among his letters, to discover if there
+existed any ground for fear. Her anxieties stilled and their object once
+more under the maternal eye, she was willing, since she must be, that he
+be deliberate in falling in love. She knew men thoroughly, so she
+believed, having known one a little, and was persuaded that the older he
+grew, the more certain was Mark to appreciate that highest womanly
+attribute so plainly discernible in Paula&mdash;pliancy. To man, so Mrs. Joe
+believed, that was the supreme excellence in woman. And there had been
+in Paula's reception of Mark's caress a certain coyness, becoming in
+itself, and which had lent an air of tenderness to the little scene.
+Paula had cast her eyes downward in that modest confusion proper to
+maidens and inviting to men; doubtless Mark would be glad to repeat a
+homage so engagingly received.</p>
+
+<p>None of these rosy inferences were shared by Paula. During Mark's last
+sojourn at Stormpoint, which had been immediately after leaving France
+and constant intercourse with the household of Beverley Claghorn, she
+had made her own observations and drawn her own conclusions. Whatever
+the reason for Mark's action, she knew it portended nothing for her, and
+if she had received his fraternal kiss in some confusion, it was because
+she dreaded the possibility of sorrow in store for him, a sorrow
+connected with a secret confided to her within a few hours.</p>
+
+<p>"Now that you are home again, Mark," said his mother, "I want your
+promise not to run away."</p>
+
+<p>"You know men, mother; if I make a promise, I shall inevitably want to
+break it."</p>
+
+<p>"But you wouldn't."</p>
+
+<p>"Better not tempt the weak. Isn't that so, Paula?"</p>
+
+<p>"Better not be weak."</p>
+
+<p>"I am serious, Mark," said Mrs. Joe. "You must consider the future; you
+should plan a career."</p>
+
+<p>"I have no intention of running away; certainly not to-night."</p>
+
+<p>"Nor any night, I hope."</p>
+
+<p>"You know," he said with some hesitation, "it is possible I may have to
+go to California."</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense! What is Benton paid for? I need you. We ought to select a
+city home, and I want your taste, your judgment."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear mother, the city home will be yours. Why haven't you chosen one
+long since?"</p>
+
+<p>"As if I would without consulting you!"</p>
+
+<p>He smiled, but forebore to remind her that he had not been consulted
+with regard to Stormpoint. "Whatever is your taste is mine," he said.
+"These gilded cages are for pretty birds like you and Paula; as for
+me&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That's nonsense. I am willing to keep your nest warm, but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"If I were to consult my own taste, I would re-erect old Eliphalet's
+cabin and be a hermit."</p>
+
+<p>"Mark, you actually hurt me&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear mother, you know I'm joking. About this house, then. New York,
+I suppose, is the place for good Californians."</p>
+
+<p>"It would be pleasanter; but it might be policy to remain in the State."</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her in wonder. "Why?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"It was merely an idea," she replied, blushing, and secretly grieved
+that he did not understand. But it was no time to enter into those plans
+which were the fruit of many consultations with Mr. Hacket. "It's
+getting late; good-night, my dear boy. I know you'll try to please me."
+She kissed him, and, with Paula, left the room.</p>
+
+<p>Left alone, he paced up and down the long room, nervously biting a cigar
+which he forgot to light. He knew he would be unable to pass in sleep
+the hours that must elapse before he could see Natalie. He was filled
+with forebodings; the vague fears which had tempted him to send an
+absurd telegraphic message to Natalie had troubled him since he had
+first recognized their presence and had grown in strength with each new
+day. He was unaware that presentiments and feelings "in the bones," once
+supposed to be the laughable delusions of old ladies and nervous younger
+ones, were now being regarded with respectful attention as a part of the
+things undreamed of in Horatio's philosophy; and, taking his attitude
+after the old fashion, he had reasoned with that being which man calls
+"himself," and, for the edification of "himself," had shown to that
+personage the childishness of indulging in vague and ungrounded fears.
+But without success. Philosophers have discovered that which old ladies
+always knew, that all explanations of the wherefore of these mental
+vagaries are unsatisfactory as long as the vagaries persist; and while
+they do, they vex the wise and foolish alike.</p>
+
+<p>His musings were disturbed by the entrance of Paula, clad in a ravishing
+tea-gown, a dainty fragment of humanity. "Mark," she said, "what is the
+matter?" for she had been quick to notice and had been startled by the
+gloom of his face.</p>
+
+<p>"Tired, Paula," and he smiled. Somehow Paula always made him smile.</p>
+
+<p>"If I were tired, I would go to bed," she observed with a faint touch
+of sarcasm. "I won't advise bed to you, for I know that you do not
+credit me with much sense."</p>
+
+<p>"Yet it is plain that you have more than I, since you have indicated the
+sensible course," he answered pleasantly. "That should be placing you in
+high esteem, since we all think well of ourselves."</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive me," she said with real sorrow for her petulance, for which she
+perhaps could have given no reason; "but I have seen that you were
+troubled&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And like a dear little sister you overflow with sympathy. Was there
+ever anybody kinder or better than you? But the real fact is that I am
+simply tired&mdash;yet not sleepy."</p>
+
+<p>"Well"&mdash;she sighed wistfully&mdash;"you will feel rested to-morrow. I came
+down to give you this from Natalie," handing him a note. "I would have
+waited until morning, but I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Did right, as you always do," he answered, kissing her cheek and saying
+good-night, and thus dismissing her, with an evident eagerness to read
+the note, not lost upon Paula, and which left her no alternative but to
+leave him.</p>
+
+<p>He opened the envelope and read:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"Dear Mark&mdash;Your letter came this morning, and I have just
+learned that you will be home to-night. I cannot express to you
+how glad I shall be to see you again. Before we meet in the
+presence of others, I hope to see you alone. Your letter, dear
+Mark, evidently delayed by being addressed in Mr. Winter's
+care, has cost me some tears, both of joy and sorrow. I am
+impatient to see you, for it seems to me that to you, before to
+any other, except to Paula (who would have known by intuition),
+I should disclose the happiness that has come to me in my
+engagement to Leonard. It is but two days old, and except to
+Paula, is known only to ourselves. Dear Mark, it has not been
+easy to write these few lines. I wish I could express in them
+how sincerely I honor and love you, and how I wish for your
+happiness. I have commenced to pray, and the first time I knelt
+to heaven I prayed for you; and so long as I shall continue to
+pray&mdash;and I think that will be always now&mdash;I shall not forget
+to beg that you be made happy. I hope you will wander no more,
+but be oftener with those that love you and who need you more
+than you perhaps know; and as I shall live either in Hampton or
+Easthampton, and as I must ever regard you as one of my
+earliest and my best friend, I hope we shall see each other
+often.</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Natalie</span>."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mark, your happiness is at Stormpoint. No one is better,
+more loving, or more lovable than she."</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>The letter stunned him. He might, had he known women as well as he
+(being young) believed he did&mdash;he might have read the truth in every
+line. He might have seen that were he to rouse his energies and plead
+his cause, he could win it, even yet. He might have heard the
+unconscious cry for rescue from an engagement contracted before his
+letter had reached her; he might have seen, in the pains she had taken
+to tell him that such was the case, his excuse and hers for asserting
+his rights against Leonard. These things were plain enough; perhaps the
+writer had intended that they should be; not consciously, indeed; but
+from that inner being who is part of all of us, the desperate hope of
+the girl's heart had not been hidden as she wrote, nor was her pen
+entirely uncontrolled by it.</p>
+
+<p>But the postscript obscured his vision. He laughed contemptuously and
+thought, as men will think, "It is thus that woman estimates love. She
+is sorry for me, and suggests that the consolation I may need I shall
+find in Paula!" He did not recognize that in the postscript was the real
+dishonesty of the letter; that it was the salve to the conscience of the
+writer, believing that in the letter itself she had said too much,
+whereas she had said too little for the perception of a man in the haze
+of jealousy. Such gleams of truth as might otherwise have been visible
+to Mark could not penetrate that dishonest veiling of the woman's
+heart.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI.</h2>
+
+<h3>A MAN ABOUT TO MEET A MAID.</h3>
+
+
+<p>One may approach the White House by way of the High Street of
+Easthampton, of which thoroughfare the dwelling in question is a
+conspicuous ornament; but for such as prefer a more secluded road, a
+grassy lane behind the houses affords direct access to Miss Claghorn's
+garden.</p>
+
+<p>Mark chose the lane. Since, in obedience to Natalie's request, he must
+see her, he hoped to find her in the garden, where there would be less
+danger of interruption.</p>
+
+<p>The birds twittered in the trees, joyous in the new day; the dew
+glimmered on the grass-blades; the scent of flowers from adjacent
+gardens perfumed the fresh air of a perfect summer morning. On such a
+morning a man about to meet a maid should have trod the earth lightly.
+But Mark lingered as he walked, reluctant to hear his fate pronounced by
+lips which he longed to kiss, but could never kiss; lips, therefore, it
+were better not to see. Yet, since he had been summoned, he must go on;
+and because of the summons there were moments when he still, if faintly,
+hoped. Hope dies hard; and, notwithstanding the forebodings which had
+vexed him ever since he had written the letter (for which writing he had
+since cursed his folly), there had been times when hope had risen high,
+and, as he even now assured himself, not without reason. If he had been
+self-deceived, it had not been from the complacency of the coxcomb.
+Surely she had loved him, or had been willing to love, had that been
+permitted her.</p>
+
+<p>In arguing thus he was not reasoning unfairly. He had been
+unintentionally deceived by the philosopher, Beverley Claghorn, who had
+permitted the intercourse between his daughter and this young man,
+partly from carelessness, more because he approved of a cousinly
+friendship of which one of the partakers was able to gratify a noble
+sentiment by an addition to the dowry of the other. It had been by
+pointing out this ability that he had assuaged the misgivings of the
+Marquise; at the same time so solemnly reiterating his loyalty to the
+treaty with that lady, that when Mark's disclosure came it had been
+impossible for him to receive it otherwise than he had done&mdash;by a
+regretful rejection. He had been astounded by the avowal, for he had
+noted no sighs, no posturing, no eloquent apostrophes or melting glances
+from this suitor who approached him with a tale of love, having never
+displayed a visible sign of the tender passion. M. Claghorn's
+observation of lovers had long been confined to one variety. He forgot
+that Anglo-Saxon swains are less prone to languish in public than their
+brothers of Gaul. Had Adolphe de Fleury been in Paris there would have
+been more frequent flowers, scented billets, rapt gazes, rolling eyes
+and eloquential phrases; all offered for the general appreciation as
+much as for the lady of his love. In the absence of these familiar
+evidences of ardor, the philosopher was, in his own eyes, acquitted of
+responsibility for the surprising fact which Mark had imparted to him.
+For, how could he suspect a legitimate passion in a youth who had yet to
+sow his wild oats, and one with the capacity for acquiring an unlimited
+field for that delightful, if futile, and generally expensive,
+husbandry? No man of Mark's years could be so wise&mdash;or so foolish. That
+was, as the philosopher viewed human nature, not in such nature. The
+case was different with Adolphe de Fleury, compelled by circumstances to
+seize the most attractive dowry that fell in his way; and even that
+gallant but impecunious soldier was, doubtless, cultivating a modest
+crop as sedulously as circumstances permitted.</p>
+
+<p>Thus had Mark been the victim of a philosophic mode of thought and had
+bowed to that which he had supposed would be the filial, as it had been
+the paternal, decision; saying good-bye, sadly, doubtless, but without
+betrayal of that which he believed would not be gladly heard, nor could
+be honorably disclosed.</p>
+
+<p>The ocean lay between him and the woman that he loved before he fully
+realized how much must be henceforth lacking in his life, and when
+repentance was too late he repented that he had taken the philosopher's
+word for a fact of which he now sometimes doubted the existence. Many
+memories whispered that she, too, had loved. No word of hers had told
+him this; but love is not always told in words&mdash;and then he would accuse
+himself of the folly of permitting vain longings to control his
+judgment. Nevertheless, when, while still at Stormpoint, he had heard of
+the sudden death of Beverley Claghorn, he had resolved to do that which
+before he had omitted, to appeal to Natalie herself, when, most
+inopportunely, there came a letter from the Marquise to Mrs. Joe; a
+letter which informed the relatives of the deceased that the death of
+the father would hasten, rather than retard, the marriage of the
+daughter, who had already taken up her residence with the writer of the
+epistle, in accordance with the wish of her father. Not long after the
+receipt of that letter Mark had started for Russia, leaving France
+unvisited.</p>
+
+<p>He opened the gate which led from the lane into the garden, and
+found&mdash;Tabitha.</p>
+
+<p>Who raised her hands in astonishment, then stretched them forth in
+welcome: "And so you're back! For how long this time? More of a Claghorn
+than ever&mdash;as grim as one of the Eliphalets."</p>
+
+<p>"No need to ask how you are," said Mark, his grimness softened by her
+heartiness. "You get younger every year. How are my aunt and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And Natalie? Blooming&mdash;that's the word. You'll find things different at
+the White House. We haven't had a good spat in months. Soor le ponty
+Avinyon, on y donks, on y donks&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>On y danse</i>," repeated Mark, laughing at Tabitha's French in spite of
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; even my old legs. Your aunt's are too stiff. But we young things,
+that's Natalie and I, we cut our capers," and in the exuberance of her
+spirits Miss Cone essayed a caper for Mark's benefit.</p>
+
+<p>"Such grace, Tabby&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Is worth coming from Russia to see. I'm practising; there's to be great
+doings here before long. What would you say to a wedding?"</p>
+
+<p>"Let me salute the bride?" he said, with an attempt at gaiety which, to
+himself, seemed rather sickly, and suiting his action to the word.</p>
+
+<p>"Well!" ejaculated Miss Cone, adjusting her cap, "many a man's had his
+ears boxed for that. However, I suppose it's in the air around here&mdash;but
+you're mistaken. I'm not the bride."</p>
+
+<p>"Surely, not Aunt Achsah?"</p>
+
+<p>"As if you couldn't guess! But don't say I told you. The fact is I'm so
+full of it I blabbed without thinking."</p>
+
+<p>"Then it's a secret?"</p>
+
+<p>"It won't be after to-day. Leonard told us last night. I suppose your
+aunt'll tell your ma to-day."</p>
+
+<p>Mark promised to say nothing and went toward the house. Miss Claghorn
+welcomed him cordially, but made no reference to the subject of
+Tabitha's disclosures, though traces of her agreeable agitation were
+visible. "There's Natalie, now!" she exclaimed after some minutes had
+been spent in conversation sufficiently dreary to one of the two.</p>
+
+<p>The thundering of a horse's hoofs told of a wild gallop. The old lady
+rushed from the house, followed by Mark, dismayed by her action and the
+alarm expressed in her countenance. He reached the gate in time to
+assist Natalie to dismount.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear child!" exclaimed the elder lady reproachfully.</p>
+
+<p>She was grasping Mark's hands in welcome. Her face was flushed; her dark
+hair, disturbed by the pace at which she had ridden, hung low upon her
+forehead; he had never seen her so beautiful&mdash;nor so happy. His face was
+pale, his hands cold in hers.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear Aunt," she said, "I felt as though I must gallop; I didn't mean to
+in the High Street; I couldn't hold him."</p>
+
+<p>"He was homeward bound," said Mark, turning to look at the horse, now
+being led away by Miss Achsah's "man." "He's a handsome beast."</p>
+
+<p>"I have much to ask you about the Marquise," said Natalie to Mark, as
+they went into the house, whereupon Miss Claghorn left them.</p>
+
+<p>The short-lived bloom of her face was gone; she was deadly pale. She
+stretched her ungloved hands toward him; it might have been a gesture
+of appeal. He dared not take them in his own; his longing to clasp her
+to his heart was too great to risk the contact. She dropped her arms.</p>
+
+<p>"You wished to see me&mdash;to ask me&mdash;&mdash;" He paused; his voice sounded stern
+in his ears, but he had no power over it.</p>
+
+<p>"To&mdash;to say something. Give me a moment."</p>
+
+<p>As she turned toward the window he caught a glimpse of the sheen of
+tears. A mighty impulse raised his arms as though to clasp her; then
+they fell.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"What fates impose, that man must need abide."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>She turned toward him. "I thought there was much to say. There
+is&mdash;nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing for you; for me, something. It is to wish you all happiness, to
+assure you of my constant&mdash;friendship."</p>
+
+<p>"And that is needless. We shall always be friends, warm friends, Mark.
+Let it be so. And&mdash;there is something more. I should not have written as
+I did of Paula; I had no right. But&mdash;since I am your friend, and you are
+mine&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"We shall be. Even so, give me a little time."</p>
+
+<p>His words were accompanied by a sardonic smile. The words and the smile
+silenced her. There was a pause.</p>
+
+<p>"Has the Marquise forgiven me?" she asked at length.</p>
+
+<p>"She will in time. By the way, I saw Adolphe. I hope he did not
+persecute&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no. He left that to his mama," she answered, laughing. "To Adolphe,
+as a cousin, I had no objection; but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You have chosen more wisely," he said gravely. "I wish you happiness,
+Natalie." He held out his hand; she took it, her own trembling. "God
+bless you, Cousin." His lips brushed her cold cheek, then he was gone.</p>
+
+<p>She watched him from the window; her face was very white, her hands
+tightly clenched. So she stood until he had passed from view, then she
+went upstairs. In the hall she passed Tabitha, who exclaimed: "You
+scared us all&mdash;yourself, too. You look like a ghost."</p>
+
+<p>"Scared?" questioned Natalie.</p>
+
+<p>"Riding like that."</p>
+
+<p>"Like that! I wished the horse had wings."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll have 'em if you don't take care, then&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Then I'll fly away." The intensity of her utterance made Tabitha stare.
+Natalie laughed aloud, and left her still staring.</p>
+
+<p>Alone in her room, she paced slowly back and forth, struggling with her
+pride, crushing a forbidden and rejected love. So she regarded it. With
+a wrung heart, Mark had respected her decision, and in the depths of her
+soul she blamed him, scorning the puny passion so easily beaten. "Go to
+Paula," she had written, while "Come to me," her heart had cried so
+loudly that, except he were deaf, he might have heard.</p>
+
+<p>When she had written her letter to Mark she had accomplished a bitter
+task only after a long and desperate struggle. She loved Leonard; she
+had said this to herself over and over again, and it was true; and to
+him she had given her troth freely, fully believing that for him there
+would be happiness and for her content. But the lowest depths of her
+soul had been stirred by the letter from Mark. There were chambers there
+that Leonard had not entered, could never enter, and into which she
+herself dared not look.</p>
+
+<p>Self-sacrifice is to women alluring. That which she had made had been
+made, at least she so believed, with honest intention, yet, since now it
+was irrevocable, it was too hideous to contemplate. She would call him
+back, and on her knees&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Shameful thought! She was betrothed to a man she loved. Had she not
+admitted it? Not to him only, but shyly this very morning to the fond
+old woman to whom she owed so much, whose last days by that very
+admission were brightened by a glorious sunshine never before known in a
+long and gloomy life. Could she now, even if in her own eyes she could
+fall so low&mdash;could she fall so low in the eyes of these women by whom
+she was surrounded? In her aunt's eyes and Tabitha's? In Paula's, to
+whom, in loving loyalty, she had herself confided the secret? In those
+of Mrs. Joe, who had so carefully warned her from this preserve? No&mdash;to
+that depth she could not descend, not even to bask in the cold and
+passionless love of Mark.</p>
+
+<p>The engagement was received with universal favor. It could hardly be
+otherwise, since all peculiarly interested were of that sex which dearly
+loves to contemplate a captive man, the only male (Leonard, of course,
+excepted) being Mark, whose attitude, being unsuspected, was ignored.
+And the bridegroom was the hero of all these women: the heir of Miss
+Claghorn; the one of the family to whom Tabitha was willing to ascribe
+all the virtues; regarded with affectionate esteem by Mrs. Joe, and, as
+to all except his denominational qualities, worshipped by Paula. As to
+the question of yoking believer and unbeliever, it had certainly
+occurred to all the devotees of the young theologian, but, aside from
+the certainty that truth must find its triumph in the union, the more
+pressing question of clothes for the approaching wedding left but little
+room in pious but feminine minds for other considerations. Events had so
+fallen in with Leonard's wishes that an early marriage was deemed
+advisable in Natalie's interest. Mr. Ellis Winter had encountered
+difficulty with regard to certain property in France belonging to her,
+and her presence in Paris was essential; and it was no less desirable
+that while there she be under the protection of a husband. For, aside
+from other considerations, marriage was the easiest solution of the
+complications which had arisen out of the guardianship of the Marquise,
+which guardianship would legally terminate with Natalie's marriage. And
+these things opened the way for Mark's return to Stormpoint.</p>
+
+<p>"Urgent business" in San Francisco had precluded his attendance at the
+wedding. He wrote Leonard a cordial letter, and he sent to Natalie a
+ruby set in small diamonds, which, Tabitha Cone confidentially imparted
+to Miss Claghorn, was "mean for a billionaire," and which, even in the
+eyes of the latter lady, with whom the donor was a favorite, looked
+paltry. Both would have been surprised and even indignant at the man's
+folly, if they had known that he had bid against a crowned head to get
+the gem, employing a special agent, furnished with <i>carte blanche</i> for
+the purpose. Natalie knew better than they, but it was not of its purity
+or value that she thought, as she looked at the jewel long and
+steadfastly, until a mist of tears suddenly obscured her vision and
+struck terror to her soul.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII.</h2>
+
+<h3>MAN WALKETH IN A VAIN SHADOW.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Soon after the departure for France of the newly married pair Mark
+returned from San Francisco. During his absence Mrs. Joe had not failed
+to call Mr. Hacket in consultation, and the adviser had reiterated the
+old counsel that the first step in a political career was "to get around
+and get acquainted." In order to induce her son to continue this
+preliminary course it became necessary to disclose her "policy."</p>
+
+<p>Mark, though somewhat languid in the matter, displayed no violent
+reluctance to becoming a statesman. "As to the Presidency," he observed,
+laughing at his mother's lofty ambition, frankly disclosed, "that is the
+heaven of the politician, to be attained only by the elect."</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing's impossible, Mark."</p>
+
+<p>"There's a constitutional provision which will prevent my going in for
+it for some years. Meanwhile, we can investigate and learn how
+Presidents start. One ended as Justice of the Peace; I might try that as
+a beginning."</p>
+
+<p>"A Justice of the Peace!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why so scornful? It's aiming high. The usual course is to begin by
+carrying a banner and shouting."</p>
+
+<p>"Mark, I've set my heart on this."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear mother, blessed is the man or woman that has the wisdom to
+avoid that error."</p>
+
+<p>"My son," said the lady reproachfully, "you seem without interest in
+anything."</p>
+
+<p>"I am older, hence less enthusiastic, than you," he answered, smiling,
+and really believing, perhaps rightly, that, notwithstanding their
+relation, he felt older than she; "but advise me what to do, and I will
+do it. I am not unwilling to be a statesman, only&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I have told you&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"To get about and get acquainted. Good! I'll start at once and collar
+the first voter I meet and demand his friendship." So, laughing, he left
+her, and within an hour Mrs. Joe saw him ride forth from the gates of
+Stormpoint.</p>
+
+<p>During his long ride he admitted the reasonableness of his mother's
+ambition. Aside from the obstacle of great wealth, he was as eligible as
+another for usefulness and such laurels as come to those who honorably
+pursue a political career. He might smile at his mother's lofty dreams,
+yet they were not impossible of attainment; whereas, his own, in so far
+as they offered any allurement, were both unworthy and impossible. "A
+man should do something better than bewail his fate," he muttered;
+"since I cannot love elsewhere I'll be a lover of my country."</p>
+
+<p>Greatly to Mrs. Joe's satisfaction, he thenceforward diligently pursued
+the preliminary requisite of getting around, in so far as that could be
+accomplished by long, solitary rides throughout the region. He seldom
+appeared at dinner without a gratifying account of the acquisition of a
+new rustic acquaintance, while meantime, the lady of Stormpoint saw to
+it that he did not remain unknown to such Hampton magnates as she could
+induce to grace her dinner table, displaying, in the matter of
+hospitality, a catholicity which surprised Paula and amused Mark, who,
+however, was quite willing to be amused.</p>
+
+<p>Philosophers who have made the passion of love a subject of
+investigation (and most philosophers have given some attention to this
+branch of learning) have noticed that the violent death of an old love
+is often quickly followed by the birth of a new one. A jilted man or
+woman is Cupid's easiest prey.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Joe may, or may not, have been aware of the truth of the above
+axiom, or its fitness in the case before her; but, having been fairly
+successful in interesting Mark in one object of her "policy," she
+resolved at this time to venture further and urge upon his attention the
+claims of Paula to his love; and, to her great delight, she found him
+not inattentive to the suggestion. He told his mother, truly enough,
+that he had a sincere affection for Paula, and admitted that she was, as
+far as was compatible with humanity, faultless; for it could hardly be a
+fault in Paula that he could feel no throb in his pulse, or glow in his
+bosom, when he recalled her to memory.</p>
+
+<p>"You forget," he said, "that while I might find it easy to love her"
+(which he did not believe), "she might not find it easy to love me."</p>
+
+<p>"You need have no fear." She was about to add that Paula would love
+anybody that loved her, but remembered in time that this might not be
+regarded as a recommendation. "She is the best creature I ever
+knew&mdash;almost perfect."</p>
+
+<p>"I believe she is," he assented with a sigh, which was a tribute to
+Paula's perfection. "I fear she is too good for me."</p>
+
+<p>"That's a strange objection."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not so sure," he replied, as he lit a cigar, preparatory to
+leaving the room. But when he was gone, Mrs. Joe felt that he would
+consider the matter, and was content.</p>
+
+<p>Unconsciously to herself, and, perhaps, without the knowledge of those
+by whom she was surrounded, Paula was somewhat harshly treated by
+nature; and that, notwithstanding her beauty. She was the embodiment of
+purity, of affection, of all the sweeter virtues, hence, regarded as
+wanting in those weaknesses which are essential to the symmetry of
+strength; one who lacks the everyday vices of temper, of selfishness, of
+jealousy, is, in some degree, abhorrent to our sense of the fitness of
+things. It is not that we envy the possessor of all the virtues&mdash;on the
+contrary, total absence of vice awakens something akin to contempt&mdash;but
+we are impatient of a non-combative disposition. The ideal Christian,
+offering the unsmitten cheek, presents a spectacle which, on Sundays, we
+characterize as sublime; the actual Christian, making such a tender, is,
+on any day, an object of scorn. Even of Paula, they who knew her would
+have admitted that it was possible to rouse her to resentment, possibly
+to a deed of vengeance, just as the worm may be made to turn; but, then,
+humanity refuses to admire worms in any attitude.</p>
+
+<p>As Mark prosecuted the study of Paula, it gradually dawned upon him
+that it was interesting. From wondering whether there could be "much in
+her," he attained the conviction that, whether much or little, what
+there was was beyond his ken. "Paula," he asked one day, "are you as
+good as you look?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know how good I look, Mark."</p>
+
+<p>"Saintlike."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I am not as good as I look; only I don't think I look as you say."</p>
+
+<p>"Paula, you are a mystery. That's a great thing to be, is it not?"
+(Somehow, he could not help talking to Paula as if she were a child.)
+"Explain the mystery."</p>
+
+<p>"Everybody is a mystery. Explain the mystery."</p>
+
+<p>"Here is an unexpected depth," he exclaimed, with some surprise. "You
+have dared to raise a great question. Let us seek the solution at
+Grandfather Eliphalet's tomb."</p>
+
+<p>The tomb, renovated and neatly railed by that which Miss Claghorn
+secretly regarded as the sacrilegious hand of Mrs. Joe, was near the
+extremity of the Point. When the weary Eliphalet had been laid there to
+rest it had been further inland, but the ever-pounding ocean was
+gradually having its way, day by day encroaching upon the domain of the
+seemingly indestructible rocks.</p>
+
+<p>"The time will come," said Mark, as the two leaned upon the railing,
+"when the sea will claim old Eliphalet's bones."</p>
+
+<p>"And the time will come when the sea will give up its dead," said Paula.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps," he answered gloomily; "and to what end? You will answer, in
+order that the dead may be judged. I still ask, to what end?"</p>
+
+<p>"That is the mystery, Mark."</p>
+
+<p>"Not to be answered at Eliphalet's tomb, or elsewhere. Paula, did you
+ever hear of Deacon Bedott?"</p>
+
+<p>"You know, Mark, there are so many deacons in Hampton&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"This one lived in Slabtown, if I remember right. He was a character of
+fiction, neither very wise nor very entertaining; yet when Deacon Bedott
+lifted up his voice and spake, he formulated one of the Great Truths
+that man can know."</p>
+
+<p>"What did he say?" she asked after a pause.</p>
+
+<p>"We are all poor critters," was the answer, with a grim laugh. "Paula, I
+believe it is the only truth that really does come home to a man."</p>
+
+<p>"It is from the Bible," she said simply.</p>
+
+<p>He looked up. "Do you mean to assert that the Deacon was merely quoting?
+Are you going to destroy my faith in a pet philosopher; he who said all
+that Plato said, or Socrates, or Seneca&mdash;or anybody?"</p>
+
+<p>"For man walketh in a vain shadow, and disquieteth himself in vain," she
+answered in a low tone.</p>
+
+<p>There was silence for a moment; at length Mark said: "It seems that the
+Deacon was, after all, a plagiarist."</p>
+
+<p>"I think that perhaps philosophers have discovered few truths concerning
+man that they might not have found in the Bible, and with less labor."</p>
+
+<p>"Paula, do you believe the Bible?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Mark! It is God's word."</p>
+
+<p>"And these," he said, pointing to the trees, the crags, the sea; "are
+these God's word?"</p>
+
+<p>"They are His creation; in that sense His word."</p>
+
+<p>"And you and I, and these bones, crumbling a few feet below&mdash;these are
+all His creation, and so His word&mdash;and we know not what they say."</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him surprised. She had often sorrowed that these things
+did not engage his attention; she was surprised to note his earnestness.</p>
+
+<p>"Paula," he said, "do you know what you were made for?"</p>
+
+<p>"Made for?"</p>
+
+<p>"Leonard would tell you, 'to glorify God, and enjoy Him forever,'" he
+said, "but he would also inform you that the chance of the purpose of
+your creation coming to pass is slim."</p>
+
+<p>"You know I do not subscribe to Leonard's creed," she replied a little
+severely.</p>
+
+<p>"The thirty-nine articles, though less explicit, imply that which
+Leonard's creed has the boldness to state. Yes, Paula, that is the great
+and glorious Hope offered by the Church&mdash;damnation for the great
+majority."</p>
+
+<p>"Mark, I do not think I ought to discuss these questions."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean with a scoffer," he said a little bitterly.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope you are not a scoffer. I cannot judge."</p>
+
+<p>"And you decline to find out. Suppose I tell you in all honesty that I
+want to know the reasons for the faith that is in you. That I want to
+know them, so that I may try honestly to adopt them, if I find it
+possible&mdash;I don't say easy, Paula, I say possible. Suppose I assure you
+of this, as I do, will you aid me to be what you think I ought to be?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mark," she answered, "I am not competent. Such a one as you should not
+come to such as I."</p>
+
+<p>"Surely you have a reason for your belief! Is it not possible to put it
+into words?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mark!" She turned and looked upon him; her eyes were brimming with
+tears; she placed her hand upon his arm. "I can help you; I will help
+you. I can direct you to one who can solve your doubts, who can make the
+truth so plain that you must see&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And this One is?' he asked reverently.</p>
+
+<p>"Father Cameril."</p>
+
+<p>He burst into a loud laugh which shocked and grieved her. She left him
+and went toward the house; he remained gazing at the tomb.</p>
+
+<p>And there, if he had really contemplated seeking Paula's love, he buried
+the intention with Old Eliphalet. "If your eternal welfare is to your
+wife a matter to be handed over to her priest, your temporal felicity
+will hardly be of moment to her," he thought, as he looked at the smoke
+of his cigar hanging blue in the summer air.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>A PARSON TREADS THE PRIMROSE PATH IN PARIS.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"Bel homme!" exclaimed the Marquise de Fleury admiringly.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Belle femme!</i>" echoed the hussar sadly.</p>
+
+<p>"Be everything that is charming, Adolphe, I conjure you. So much depends
+upon Natalie's disposition."</p>
+
+<p>From which brief conversation, which took place as the speakers left the
+hotel where the Leonard Claghorns were established, it may be correctly
+inferred that a friendly reception had been accorded the newly married
+pair by the French relatives of the bride. The noble lady, doubtless,
+felt all the affection for her former ward that she had, during the
+visit, so eloquently expressed, so that inclination prescribed the same
+course that policy would have indicated. The Marquise was still the
+custodian of property belonging to Natalie, and settlement of accounts
+could be much better adjusted in a spirit of indulgent friendship than
+in the cold and calculating spirit of business; and though Natalie and
+her dowry were gone forever, in that distant land whence she had
+returned with a husband, there were golden maids languishing for
+Marquises. "These Yankees," she observed to her son, "they sell their
+souls for money&mdash;the men; the women sell their bodies, and such soul as
+goes with them, for titles. Are you not a Marquis, of the <i>ancien
+regime</i>? It behooves us, my child, to be gracious to this wedded priest;
+he may know of a <i>partie</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"I am so, mama. <i>Du reste</i>, he is <i>beau garçon</i>, and seems amiable and
+amusing."</p>
+
+<p>"Cultivate him, my infant; a voyage to America may be your destiny. It
+is a rich family&mdash;fabulous. There may be maids in plenty among these
+Claghorns."</p>
+
+<p>The two young men, except for the pacific disposition of their
+womankind, might have been inclined to regard one another askance. For,
+in the person of the possessor of Natalie and her dowry the brave hussar
+saw one who however innocently, was still the ravisher of his rights;
+while in this being, in all the glory of fur and feather, sabretache and
+jangling sword, boots and buttons, braid and golden stripes, with a
+pervading tone of red and blue, Leonard beheld a startling and, at
+first, unpleasing creation. But the lieutenant, admonished by his mama,
+and sensible of the interests at stake, and genial by nature, thawed
+almost immediately, and the boulevardier and the theologian were
+friends.</p>
+
+<p>To the young Frenchman a Protestant theologian was a philosopher, rather
+than a priest under vows, hence a person of liberal views and probably
+of lax conduct. As toward a newly married man, and warned incessantly by
+the Marquise, he recognized that etiquette required that from him no
+invitation to dissipation should emanate, but that his attitude ought to
+be that of willingness to pilot the stranger whithersoever he might wish
+to go; occasionally pointing out that paths of pleasantness were open to
+such as might choose to wander in them. And though Leonard displayed no
+undue disposition to such wanderings, an intimacy resulted which was not
+in fact, though seemingly, incongruous.</p>
+
+<p>"What is he like, this beautiful heretic?" asked the Marquise.</p>
+
+<p>"Like a Greek god, as you see, mama."</p>
+
+<p>"But otherwise; he is a priest, you know?"</p>
+
+<p>"And, like other priests, with an eye for a pretty woman."</p>
+
+<p>"But discreet, Adolphe? I hope he is discreet."</p>
+
+<p>"As St. Anthony! Natalie may be easy."</p>
+
+<p>"Be you equally discreet, my child. She has been most generous; and,
+remember, Adolphe&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, mama. What am I to remember?"</p>
+
+<p>"That when a woman marries a man for his beauty, it is not love; it is
+infatuation. Do not permit this Leonarr to go astray; he has
+proclivities."</p>
+
+<p>The little hussar laughed. "You are sharp-eyed, mamma."</p>
+
+<p>"Had you watched him before the painting of Eve&mdash;but enough. Do nothing
+to cause disquiet to Natalie."</p>
+
+<p>The little man, thus admonished, promised to carefully observe her
+wishes; the more readily as he was aware how important the friendship of
+Natalie was to his mama (in view of the pending adjustment of accounts).
+The more he studied Leonard, the more amusing he found him. To "do"
+Paris (not, indeed, to the extent of the capacity of that capital) in
+company with a priest, was, in itself, a piquant experience. "It is like
+demonstrating to your director how easy it is to sin," he declared; "and
+<i>ce bon Leonarr</i>, he imposes no penance. <i>Tiens!</i> These others, these
+Protestants, they have it easy."</p>
+
+<p>"He does not essay to pervert," observed the Marquise in some alarm.</p>
+
+<p>"Be not uneasy. Would I be of a religion whose priests marry? Think of
+the wife of my confessor knowing all my peccadillos!"</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive me. My anxiety was but momentary&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Meanwhile, let me help this <i>pauvre garçon</i>, whose eyes have, since
+infancy, been bandaged, to see a little bit of the world. It is
+delightful to note his delight."</p>
+
+<p>"But with discretion, Adolphe."</p>
+
+<p>"Do I not assure you he is an anchorite. You have yourself observed that
+he drinks no wine."</p>
+
+<p>"A penance, doubtless. Père Martin is also abstemious."</p>
+
+<p>"As to <i>ordinaire</i>. In the presence of a flask of Leoville, I have noted
+a layman's thirst in <i>ce bon père</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"Do not ridicule Père Martin, my infant. <i>Du reste</i>, it is not wine that
+I fear in the case of this beautiful Leonarr. Continue to be his
+guardian angel, my son."</p>
+
+<p>Under this guardianship Leonard looked at Paris, enjoying his free
+sojourn in a great and brilliant city with hearty, but, on the whole,
+innocent fervor. The sunny skies, the genial good-humor, the eating and
+drinking, the frequent music, the lights, the dapper men, the
+bright-eyed women, the universal alertness&mdash;these impart a pleasant
+tingle to Puritan blood; and, if the novice to these delights be young,
+rosy, handsome, of exuberant health, and inclined to the pleasures
+befitting such conditions, he finds Paris grateful to the taste. In
+this congenial atmosphere Leonard basked in guileless rapture. A drive
+in the Bois with Natalie and the Marquise, brilliant equipages dashing
+by, brilliant eyes flashing as they passed, was a rare delight; a stroll
+on the Boulevard was even more enjoyable, for here were more flashing
+eyes and smiling faces, less fleeting, and often coquettishly inviting
+an answering glance. Clothed in the results of the meditations of de
+Fleury's tailor, it became Leonard's frequent habit to haunt the
+Boulevards, indulging in a strut that would have astonished Hampton; and
+often was he inclined to envy the Marquis that lot which had made his
+abiding place among these joys. It would have been fine to be a soldier,
+fine to fight and win glory; to wear boots and spurs and a clanking
+sword, and to trail the same along the pavement as one to the manner
+born!</p>
+
+<p>Of course, that was a day-dream, which he laughed at as easily as an
+older man might have done, though less scornfully. There was no great
+harm in day-dreams, however foolish. This whole existence had the
+character of a pleasant dream. Had he not felt it so, he often mentally
+averred, he would have accepted it more gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"But it will soon be over," he said to Natalie. "It is my first holiday
+since I was a boy."</p>
+
+<p>"Enjoy it all you can. I am glad that Adolphe has been able to make your
+stay pleasant."</p>
+
+<p>"Really, a very amiable little fellow. French, you know, and rather lax
+in his views, I fear; but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"His views will not harm you," interrupted Natalie, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly not," he replied, a little stiffly. "It would be strange if I
+could not take care of myself. Meanwhile, M. de Fleury is really of
+great advantage to me in one respect."</p>
+
+<p>"And that is?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am improving wonderfully in French. That's a good thing, Natalie, a
+very good thing." He was quite solemn on this point.</p>
+
+<p>"An excellent thing," she replied, somewhat surprised at the gravity
+with which he treated a matter of no great importance. "I wish, Leonard,
+that my affairs were concluded. I am sure you are being kept here
+against your wish."</p>
+
+<p>"Whatever my wish, your affairs ought to come first. Let us be content
+that, if they do drag, I can employ the time in self-improvement."</p>
+
+<p>Thus, in the praiseworthy pursuit of improvement Leonard spent much of
+his time. He was by no means neglectful of his wife, whose attendance,
+with the Marquise, was much in demand in official bureaus, and who
+encouraged his intimacy with the lieutenant, whom she no longer found
+unendurable, and whose amiable and forgiving conduct had won her heart.
+"They are not rich, you know," she said. "Entertain the little man all
+you can; the Marquise was very kind to me." An injunction which afforded
+another reason why it was incumbent on Leonard to procure the Marquis
+the distractions that he loved, in so far as purse and principle
+permitted, and these were found elastic.</p>
+
+<p>Because, as he was forced to admit when arguing with the Marquis, a
+reasonable elasticity is not only proper, but essential to culture.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Mon bon</i>," observed the lieutenant, "the view you advance is narrow.
+The ballet, as a favorite spectacle of the people, should be studied by
+every student of morals. You, as a preacher&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Leonard laughed. "I'm not a preacher; I'm an instructor in a college of
+divinity."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Eh bien!</i> The greater reason. How shall one teach the good, knowing
+not the evil? <i>Du reste</i>, are they evil, <i>ces belles jambes</i> of Coralie?
+They are fine creations, of pure nature; there is no padding."</p>
+
+<p>"You will be my guest, if we go?"</p>
+
+<p>"Since you insist; also to a <i>petit souper, a parti carré</i>, with Aimée
+and Louise. Coralie! <i>Sapristi</i>, no! Her maw is insatiable; the little
+ones are easily pleased."</p>
+
+<p>And so Leonard studied unpadded nature, even going alone a second, and
+perhaps a third time. As to the <i>petit souper</i>, it had been decorous;
+and beyond the fact that Mesdemoiselles Aimée and Louise were agreeable
+ladies with excellent appetites, his knowledge of these damsels did not
+extend.</p>
+
+<p>Of course, there were pursuits of a different character to engage his
+attention, and those which occurred under the guidance of the lieutenant
+were exceptional. There were the usual sights to be seen; galleries,
+monuments, churches, all to be wondered at, criticised and admired.
+Leonard approved generally, though, as to the churches, their tawdry
+interiors and the character of their embellishments offended his taste,
+as well as his religious sentiments. If, during these distractions, he
+was neglectful of the religious instruction which he knew his wife
+needed, circumstances were, to some extent, at fault. He could hardly
+expound doctrinal truths in a picture gallery, much less in a temple of
+Roman error. And, though not without qualms, he admitted to himself that
+he had little desire to discuss religion. There was, perhaps, no heinous
+sin in looking at the leg-gyrations of Mademoiselle Coralie, nor was
+Leonard the first wandering clergyman to embrace an offered opportunity
+to study ethics from the standpoint of that rigid moralist, the Marquis
+de Fleury; nevertheless, such studies had their effect in cooling
+religious fervor, and fervor is essential to him who would expound
+truth, with a view to compel conviction.</p>
+
+<p>Finally, as bearing on this question of the doctrinal instruction of his
+wife, he doubted whether it was worth while. Knowledge of doctrine was
+no adornment in women; there was Paula, whose pretensions in this regard
+constituted almost her only defect. Since Natalie was probably saved,
+why trouble himself and her with the exposition of mysteries which she
+would be unable to comprehend, and concerning which the injunction was
+laid that they be "handled with especial care." If she had heard the
+call it would be effectual; if she had not been born to salvation, all
+the doctrine which had been taught since the days of the fathers would
+not&mdash;and here his self-communing stopped. Damnation, though inevitable,
+is not an alluring subject of contemplation when it affects one's
+family.</p>
+
+<p>The complications attendant on Natalie's affairs prolonged the stay in
+Paris far beyond the period originally contemplated; but French method
+on one side of the Atlantic, and Mr. Winter on the other, were finally
+satisfied, after much passing to and fro of documents. Everybody
+interested was weary, and consular clerks had come to loathe the names
+of Natalie, Eugenie, Louise, Susan Beverley de Fleury Claghorn-Claghorn,
+<i>née</i> de Fleury-Claghorn. As Leonard said, to be enabled to give the
+Marquise a receipt in full was a harder job than to negotiate a treaty.
+But it was done at last; Natalie had been resolute and Mr. Winter had
+protested in vain; the Marquise had her discharge and, relieved of many
+terrors, was duly grateful. "She has been charming, truly considerate,"
+she observed to her son. "Alas, Adolphe; it was a great loss."</p>
+
+<p>"There are others," replied the Marquis philosophically.</p>
+
+<p>"Heaven send it so. You must no longer delay speaking seriously to this
+good Leonarr, who might have influenced his wife to be the ogress
+desired by the abominable Winter. Urge him to look out for a <i>partie</i> as
+soon as he arrives in America. I will speak to Natalie. I have heard her
+mention two demoiselles, Achsah and Tabitha."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Ciel!</i> The appellations."</p>
+
+<p>"But if the bearers are rich?"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Tiens!</i> mama. Madame Zho and <i>la belle</i> Paula are in London. I might
+try there; it is not so far."</p>
+
+<p>"But <i>ce gros</i> Marc is with them. Paula is for him, as you know."</p>
+
+<p>"He does not hurry himself, and truly I believe the little one would not
+be averse to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Better depend upon Monsieur Leonarr."</p>
+
+<p>And as a result of his mama's advice the lieutenant did, on that
+afternoon, broach the matter to Leonard, who, at first mystified, ended
+by roaring with laughter when he grasped the fact that the head of the
+House of de Fleury was making a provisional proposal for the hand and
+fortune of either Mademoiselle Tabitha, or Mademoiselle Achsah, as
+Leonard might advise.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Diable!</i>" exclaimed the gallant youth, when Leonard had explained the
+cause of his hilarity, "over seventy and rich! What a country where such
+opportunities are neglected! Decidedly I must make the voyage."</p>
+
+<p>Leonard made no reply; the suggested picture of the noble Marquis as
+his guest in Hampton was not precisely alluring.</p>
+
+<p>"And so there is not a single demoiselle among the Claghorns that
+desires a title?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not one."</p>
+
+<p>"Alas!" sighed the Marquis. "I was too magnanimous. You know <i>la belle</i>
+Paula, of course. Listen, <i>mon ami</i>, but let your lips be sealed. <i>Elle
+etait folle de moi!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"Paula! Crazy for you! You flatter&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Parole d'honneur.</i> It was in her eyes, in the plaintive cadence of her
+tones&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I know&mdash;<i>ce polisson de Marc, toujours Marc</i>. Ah, the luck of this
+Marc! He has a mine of gold; he will have the charming Paula. Only you,
+<i>mon bon</i>, have beaten him. After all, it is for Marc and me to mingle
+our tears."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean by that?" asked Leonard sharply. "Why are you and Mark
+to mingle your tears?"</p>
+
+<p>"For the reason, <i>mon cher</i>, that we love to weep," replied the hussar,
+with an odd glance at Leonard. "Adieu, I have an appointment," and he
+turned abruptly down a side street, leaving Leonard astonished at his
+quick retreat.</p>
+
+<p>"Pshaw!" he exclaimed, after a moment. "It's absurd!" Then he pursued
+his way homeward.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2>
+
+<h3>TO HIM I WILL BE HENCEFORTH TRUE IN ALL THINGS.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Mrs. Joe and her train were in London, whither Mark had been summoned on
+business; and ever since Madame de Fleury had become aware of the fact
+she had urged the party to visit Paris. The Marquise, notwithstanding
+her sex, was not devoid of curiosity, and, aside from other advantages
+which might accrue to her from the presence of the lady of Stormpoint,
+she was anxious that a puzzle which had not a little mystified her be
+elucidated. When Mark had visited her after his chance meeting with
+Adolphe in the cafe, she had divined his feeling with regard to Natalie,
+and had at once jumped to the conclusion that it explained the flight of
+her ward. She recalled the intimacy which had existed between the
+cousins during the lifetime of the philosopher, an intimacy which she
+had gravely disapproved, and concerning which she had more than once
+remonstrated. She remembered, too, with vexation and a sense of injury,
+that the philosopher had soothed her solicitude for the interests of her
+son, by pleading the cousinly customs of Mark's country, as well as by
+pointing out the benefit which might accrue to her son by an increased
+dowry for his own daughter. Now all these hopes and rosy possibilities
+were extinguished; Natalie had appeared on the scene with a husband who
+was not Mark, and Mark and Paula were still unwed. These were all
+puzzling facts out of which there might be gathered some advantage for
+Adolphe. She had concealed from him the hopes which sometimes rose
+within her in contemplating the present state of affairs; but she was
+very anxious to know what that state portended. She had tried in vain to
+extract information from Natalie, and as to Leonard, the matter required
+delicate handling. Such inquiries as she had addressed to him had been
+of necessity vague, and from his answers she had derived no
+satisfaction. He had sometimes idly wondered what the lady was after,
+but until the allusion by the Marquis to a mutual mingling of tears by
+Mark and himself, Leonard had barely given the matter a thought. He
+understood now what the Marquis had implied, and saw the drift of the
+maternal questioning. He was annoyed, but only for a moment; he
+dismissed the subject as being of equal importance with the hussar's
+idea of Paula's infatuation for himself, concerning which he had no
+belief whatever.</p>
+
+<p>After the lieutenant had left him, Leonard pursued his way homeward,
+vaguely oppressed by a sense of gloom which he attributed to the
+weather, which had become lowering. He was near the Church of St. Roch
+when a shower drove him inside its portals for shelter.</p>
+
+<p>A few sightseers were wandering about the edifice; an occasional
+penitent occupied a chapel with lips close to the grating, on the other
+side of which was the ear of the absolver; in the body of the church a
+number knelt in prayer.</p>
+
+<p>He looked at these things with curiosity, not unmingled with scorn. His
+attention was attracted by a plainly dressed woman standing in a side
+aisle; to his surprise, he recognized his wife.</p>
+
+<p>She did not see him as he softly approached her. A sunbeam breaking
+through the clouds outside shone through a window and lit up her face,
+displaying to him a new expression, a look of yearning and of love which
+beautified it; a look he had never seen before; he recognized the fact
+with a vague sense of pain.</p>
+
+<p>That which he saw, like that which he felt, was but momentary. She
+turned, looking at him at first with an abstracted gaze, then startled,
+as though waking from a dream. "Leonard!" she exclaimed in a low voice.
+It sounded like fear.</p>
+
+<p>"Even so, my dear. Why are you here alone?"</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I&mdash;don't know. I was tired."</p>
+
+<p>"Has this spectacle moved you so?" He pointed to the worshippers.</p>
+
+<p>"No, not that. I wish I were as good as they; I have watched them
+often."</p>
+
+<p>"Often?" he repeated. He was somewhat indignant at that wish, that she,
+his wife, were as good as these idolaters; but it was plain that she was
+deeply moved by something, and he was very tender. "Do you come here
+often?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have done so, Leonard." There was humility in her tone, there was
+confession; had he known it, there was a cry for aid.</p>
+
+<p>"Natalie," he said, with some reproach for her, and feeling not a little
+for himself, "I hope you are not attracted by the glitter of Romanism.
+Surely you can pray in your closet!"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not pray in the churches," she said. "I did not know that my
+visits to them would annoy you."</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all, my dear," he replied. "I can understand that you like to
+enjoy the architectural beauties and the solemn influence. But upon me
+the crucifixes, the holy water, the vestments&mdash;in short, the
+frippery&mdash;these things have a less agreeable effect. They savor of gross
+superstition."</p>
+
+<p>It was true that she did not pray in the churches. Something restrained
+her; perhaps the very memories which had invited her to these wanderings
+in dim shadows where so many vain aspirations had been breathed.
+Sometimes as she would pass a chapel where knelt a penitent, confessing
+to a hidden priest, a strong desire would come upon her to do as the
+penitent was doing. Yet why? Even to herself she had not yet admitted
+that she had aught to confess.</p>
+
+<p>They strolled slowly toward their hotel, Leonard silently reproaching
+himself that he had not sooner discovered and prevented this habit of
+haunting churches, a habit which might lead to lamentable results in one
+easily influenced by the external pomp and circumstance of Romanism.</p>
+
+<p>However, any danger that might exist would soon be passed. Before long
+they would be far beyond the subtle influences of priesthood, as well as
+other subtle influences which he felt were not altogether healthful. He
+sighed, a little regretfully; after all, pleasure was sweet.</p>
+
+<p>There had been some question whether they should await the possible
+arrival of Mrs. Joe. The discussion of this subject had been confined to
+himself and the Marquise, Natalie having displayed but a faint interest
+in the matter. Only that morning Madame de Fleury had informed him that
+the lady of Stormpoint had written to say that she and her party would
+come to Paris for a short stay and then accompany the Leonard Claghorns
+homeward. He was therefore surprised when Natalie suddenly exclaimed,
+"Leonard, let us go home!"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean we should not wait for Mrs. Joe?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Why should we? She has Paula and the maids."</p>
+
+<p>"And Mark. He counts for something," suggested Leonard, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course; and if we wait for them, the waiting will never end. The
+Marquise will do all she can to keep them, and Paris is not so easily
+left. I foresee more difficulty in getting away gracefully, should they
+arrive while we are here, than if we go at once."</p>
+
+<p>"We can pass through London and explain," he suggested.</p>
+
+<p>"Let us go by Havre. I long to get away, and you ought to be home. I
+will write to Mrs. Joe. Let us decide now."</p>
+
+<p>She was strangely insistent, even agitated. He noticed it and assumed
+that she was depressed at the thought of leaving that which was her own
+country, and longed to get a painful separation over. To him it was a
+matter of indifference by what route they traveled, so long as Mrs.
+Joe's susceptibilities were not wounded; and Natalie, assuring him that
+her written explanation would prevent that misfortune, the matter was
+settled.</p>
+
+<p>He kissed her as they entered their apartment; for a moment she held her
+face close to his.</p>
+
+<p>That night, being alone and prostrate upon the floor of her room, where
+she had sunk, humiliated and ashamed, she uttered a vow to heaven:</p>
+
+<p>"To him I will be henceforth true in all things; in thought as in deed.
+Help me, heaven, to atone, by surrendering to him and in his service
+every act and every thought."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV.</h2>
+
+<h3>MRS. JOE ON CLERICAL BUMPTIOUSNESS AND MRS. FENTON'S SHOULDERS.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The family of Stormpoint remained abroad until long after Leonard and
+his wife were established in the old Morley mansion in Hampton, finally
+returning to America without Mark, who remained in England, ostensibly
+on business connected with the Great Serpent. He had done nothing to
+advance his mother's wishes with regard to Paula, assuming that the lady
+had by this time recognized the futility of her hopes, and like the wise
+woman he knew her to be, had become reconciled to the inevitable. She
+was even wiser than he knew, and a part of her wisdom was to trust to
+the future. She would admit defeat when she found herself defeated,
+meanwhile acquiescing to all seeming in things as they were, placidly
+listening to Paula's confidences as to that celibate sisterhood which
+the damsel hoped some day to found, but which, as Mrs. Joe said to
+herself, was not founded yet.</p>
+
+<p>Mark had extracted a promise both from his mother and from Paula that
+their letters should contain "all the news of all the Claghorns,"
+meaning perhaps Mrs. Leonard Claghorn; and when the first letter came
+from his mother he opened it eagerly and read: first a great deal of
+political advice (at second hand from Mr. Hacket), and toward the end of
+the epistle, matter of greater interest.</p>
+
+<p>"As to Leonard" (wrote the lady), "I fear marriage has not improved him.
+Natalie makes the mistake of coddling him too much. Her notion of wifely
+duty is extravagant. In their house a thousand things are done for
+Leonard's comfort, all thought of by his wife, and her eyes follow him
+about as though she were constantly on the watch to anticipate his
+wants. She is very quiet in manner and seems rather to wish to echo
+Leonard's opinions than to have opinions of her own; all of which has
+other than a pleasing effect on Leonard. I suppose, too, that he has
+arrived at an age (somewhat late in his case) in which the fact of his
+own manliness is the most important fact of existence. He has not been
+improved by contact with quite another world than that of Hampton, the
+world of Adolphe de Fleury, in which he seems to have mingled rather
+surprisingly. One would hardly recommend the allurements of Paris in
+such companionship to a young theologian. You know the angels in
+Paradise fell, though I do not mean to imply that Paris is paradise, or
+Leonard an angel, fallen or otherwise; but his engaging innocence is
+gone; perhaps it was inevitable. I am sorry to see in its place an undue
+amount of the bumptiousness often affected by members of his profession.
+It is quite distressing to think that he should degenerate, he who was
+so beautiful to look at, so gentle, yet so strong&mdash;in short, so
+naturally refined&mdash;a word, by the way, which I dislike, but it expresses
+the idea. He is not so refined as he was; he is less pleasing to the
+eye, there is a shadow of something in his face which I do not like&mdash;and
+I do <i>not</i> like the way with which he looks at Paula.</p>
+
+<p>"There, Mark, I have been long in coming to it&mdash;but you are not to
+misunderstand me. I don't believe Leonard has a thought which could be
+regarded as injurious to Natalie, but I don't think he regards feminine
+beauty with the eyes one likes to see. I gave a little dinner a few
+evenings since; only the Stanleys, the Fentons, Father Cameril and the
+Leonard Claghorns. You remember Mrs. Fenton's style; her shoulders (very
+beautiful they are&mdash;I say shoulders) too much in evidence for my taste.
+Leonard hardly took his eyes off of them. Father Cameril, on the
+contrary, hardly knew what to do with his to avoid seeing them, and I
+don't know which of the pair made me most angry. I remember when Leonard
+would have been oblivious of shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"He is rather truculent, too, is Mr. Leonard, and fell foul of poor
+Father Cameril in a manner which roused even Paula, on the subject of
+the Apostolic Succession&mdash;in short, I never saw him at such a
+disadvantage, and I'm afraid my indignation has carried my pen away.</p>
+
+<p>"Natalie is lovely. A little sad at times. She confided to me a secret
+which no doubt accounts for her rather noticeable pensiveness. There
+will be a baby in the old Morley house before the year is out."</p>
+
+<p>Mark pondered over his mother's letter often, and with more misgiving
+than behooved a man interested in his neighbor only in ordinary
+neighborly fashion. He did full justice to his mother's shrewd
+observation, and believed that her letter was intended to convey more
+than appeared on the surface, and his self-communings in reference
+thereto were not cheerful.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI.</h2>
+
+<h3>INTRODUCES DR. STANLEY, SATAN AND THE PRAYER MEETING OF MATRONS.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Mrs. Leonard Claghorn had been graciously received by the matrons of
+Hampton. She was so interesting (they said), so foreign; and careful
+cross-examination of those who had penetrated into the inner sanctuaries
+of the Morley mansion had established the fact that there was not a
+crucifix in the house. On the whole, the matrons were content. Surely,
+the wife of a young professor, so thoroughly grounded in the faith as
+was Leonard&mdash;though his prominence in the Seminary, in view of his
+youth, might be deprecated by some&mdash;such a one could not remain
+heretical, even if her religious education had been defective. How
+awfully defective these excellent ladies did not know.</p>
+
+<p>On her part, Natalie had been no less gracious. "She'll be one of them
+in a year," said Mrs. Joe, alluding to the matrons. "She'll be whatever
+Leonard says."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish Father Cameril could talk with her," sighed Paula.</p>
+
+<p>"He lost his chance when he contradicted Leonard at my dinner."</p>
+
+<p>"She certainly is very loyal to her husband," admitted Paula.</p>
+
+<p>"Altogether too subservient," observed Mrs. Joe testily. "No woman
+should permit her whole nature to be absorbed in that manner. No wonder
+he's bumptious."</p>
+
+<p>"Bumptious!"</p>
+
+<p>"Conceited. Pliancy, Paula, is a virtue in a wife. I was pliant myself;
+still the most devoted of wives ought to have an opinion of her own."</p>
+
+<p>"Natalie is so sweet," urged the extenuating Paula.</p>
+
+<p>"Sweet! So are you; so was I; so was Tabitha Cone to the man that gave
+her that monstrous watch&mdash;but sweetness may be sickening."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Cousin Alice!"</p>
+
+<p>"It irritates me, because it's not Natalie's true character. She had a
+mind of her own once, and a good one. Actually, she's superior to
+Leonard&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"He's a very brilliant man, Cousin."</p>
+
+<p>"To look at, and glib; but inferior to his wife. Men generally are. Yet
+she effaces herself. She overdoes her loyalty. She is playing a part!"</p>
+
+<p>"Cousin Alice!" remonstrated Paula.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't mean she's consciously a hypocrite, and you needn't flare.
+She's imbibed some absurd notions of wifely duty, and is trying to carry
+them out."</p>
+
+<p>An impression made upon an observer as keen as Mrs. Joe must have a
+foundation. In her irritation the lady had expressed the truth. Natalie
+was playing a part.</p>
+
+<p>Since the day in St. Roch when she, recalling a day long past, had lost
+herself in a dream of what might have been&mdash;since then she had been
+playing a part, the part of a penitent; the role she had assumed when
+later, in humiliation and conscience-stricken, she had prostrated
+herself before heaven, vowing the only atonement possible.</p>
+
+<p>She had seen the beginning of that change in Leonard which remained a
+cause of irritation to Mrs. Joe; nor had she been ignorant of the
+influences to which it was in part to be ascribed; but her conscience
+had whispered that in very truth the effect of those influences was to
+be attributed to herself. In her marriage an essential element had been
+absent, and was wanting still. To complete that holy mystery and adorn
+it with its rarer graces, to tinge its atmosphere with consecrated
+incense, there must be spiritual union. If Leonard had not learned of
+nobler joys than the lesser gratification that engaged his thoughts, was
+it not because such joys had not been offered?</p>
+
+<p>To those religious teachings which had been deferred she now looked
+forward as to the means whereby both could attain to that higher union
+which she craved, and which when attained would surely soothe her
+troubled spirit and aid in that atonement prescribed by her conscience
+and which she had vowed, and of which the subservience disapproved by
+Mrs. Joe was a minor manifestation. So, though timidly, for his
+reluctance (so strange to her) was apparent, she sought to bring Leonard
+to discussion of religious subjects.</p>
+
+<p>"Was Jonathan Edwards a great man?" she asked one day, and then
+regretted her question, for at that passage of arms which had occurred
+at Mrs. Joe's table, Father Cameril had mentioned the name, a fact
+forgotten until it was recalled to her memory by the lowering brow of
+Leonard.</p>
+
+<p>"A great man, indeed!" he answered; "an apostle of truth. Chattering
+imbeciles like Father Cameril may tell you differently."</p>
+
+<p>"I was not thinking of Father Cameril. I read the title of your article,
+'Jonathan Edwards, a Man Athirst for God.'"</p>
+
+<p>"So he was; and one who slaked his thirst at the well of knowledge. A
+great and good man, Natalie, though shallow reasoners are glad to deny
+the merit of the greatest of metaphysicians. The truth is they're afraid
+of him."</p>
+
+<p>"Why afraid?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because his logic is inexorable, the unassailable truth he utters not
+lovely to all hearers. Edwards declines to abate one jot or tittle of
+God's message. It has become the fashion even among men of greater
+intellect than Mr. Cameril has been endowed with to avoid Edwards,
+but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I should think all would crave the truth. I would like to read him."</p>
+
+<p>"Not now," he said, kissing her. "Dr. Stanley advises steering clear of
+Edwards," he continued, laughing, "though not for the usual reasons. You
+must follow the fashion for awhile, Natalie."</p>
+
+<p>He knew that public opinion would expect, and in time demand, his wife's
+union with the church. Had she been trained from childhood in orthodox
+tenets her preparedness for the sacrament would have been presumed, and,
+at some convenient season, when souls are garnered as crops are
+garnered, it being assumed that they ripen like the fruits of the
+earth, she would have been duly gathered to the fold with those other
+members of the congregation whose time for experiencing religion had
+come. But there was no presumption of early instruction in Natalie's
+case.</p>
+
+<p>He would have been better pleased if his position had not required
+deference to that opinion which would demand Natalie's entrance into the
+doctrinal fold. If she were chosen for salvation, what difference could
+it make whether she was instructed as to the Confession or not? Where
+were the women that were so instructed? Nowhere. They had some phrases
+and some faint recollection of Sabbath-school lessons, but as to any
+real knowledge of the mysteries they professed, he knew that the laymen
+of his denomination were in general as ignorant as those puppets of the
+Romish priesthood who left such matters to their betters. And secretly
+he regarded this as the correct system. He was not sorry that he had a
+valid excuse for avoiding domestic theological discussion in the dictum
+of Dr. Stanley.</p>
+
+<p>The doctor, who had been present on the occasion when Leonard had fallen
+foul of Father Cameril, and who had been amused at the husband's
+truculence, had also noted the anxious look of the wife. He had known
+Leonard almost since boyhood and liked him; he was, for reasons of his
+own, especially interested in Leonard's wife.</p>
+
+<p>Doctor Stanley's position in Hampton was not unlike that of Satan in the
+world. He was endured of necessity and his services called in
+requisition, because in certain straits there was no getting along
+without him. "The parsons don't want to go to heaven," he would say,
+"any more than the rest of us, so when they're sick they call me in, and
+when they're well they smile on me; but, if I weren't a doctor, Hampton
+would be too hot to hold me." All of which, if true, was because Dr.
+Stanley was troubled with a theological itch of his own, and, though
+calling God the "Unknowable," claimed knowledge with as much confidence
+as his orthodox rivals, and with equal truculence. He was at some
+disadvantage in his public onslaughts on Hamptonian strongholds, since
+his followers were few; but at occasional lectures, the meagre proceeds
+whereof went to sustain a Mechanics' Library, founded by the doctor for
+the behoof of philosophical plumbers and carpenters, he sometimes
+charged upon the foe with great gallantry, if but little effect. In his
+private capacity he was genial, amiable and good-hearted, and, if hated
+as an infidel, was loved as a man. As a physician, the general faith in
+his skill was nearly unbounded.</p>
+
+<p>His wife, who laughed at him and loved him, was that Lettie Stanley of
+whose ultimate salvation Miss Claghorn had grave doubt. She was, if
+unhappily "passed by," still of the elect race, and Miss Achsah, on the
+occasion of her union with the doctor, had expressed the opinion that
+the Reverend Josias Claghorn, father of the unfortunate, had celebrated
+the nuptials by turning in his grave. It was not known that she was,
+like her husband, an absolute unbeliever, since she sometimes appeared
+at public worship, and there were among the ladies of Hampton one or two
+who maintained that she was a pious woman. However, it was certain that
+she was heterodox, a grievous circumstance which gave great and just
+cause of offense to these descendants of the original seekers after
+liberty of conscience. She was active in charitable work, and though
+admitted to the Shakespeare Society, was not a member of any of the
+distinctly denominational organizations. She had been invited to the
+"Thursday Prayer Meeting of Matrons," and had declined, flippantly, the
+matrons proclaimed, and on the ground that though she was willing to be
+prayed for, she did not wish to be prayed at. For the rest, she was a
+handsome woman of middle age, with large, tender eyes and a cheery
+disposition, tinged with a certain melancholy, which some called
+cynicism.</p>
+
+<p>This lady had also noted with disapproval Leonard's manner on the
+occasion of Mrs. Joe's dinner. "He's getting spoiled," she had observed
+to her husband, as they left the hospitable mansion.</p>
+
+<p>"Theological manner," replied the doctor. "They can't help it. Cameril
+would have been as bad, if he dared. What do you think of Leonard's
+wife?"</p>
+
+<p>"A beautiful woman, who adores her husband. I wonder why her eyes are
+sad?"</p>
+
+<p>"Her eyes are like yours."</p>
+
+<p>"Pshaw, Doctor; I'm an old woman&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That's nonsense. She not only resembles you as to eyes, but in
+disposition."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course you know all about her disposition."</p>
+
+<p>"It's my business to know. Mrs. Leonard's my patient, and her
+idiosyncrasies&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Are doubtless interesting, as pertaining to a handsome woman; but how
+do they resemble mine?"</p>
+
+<p>"She's a religious enthusiast."</p>
+
+<p>"Well!" ejaculated the lady; "after years of observation that is your
+wise conclusion. I won't say tell that to the marines, which would be
+undignified, but tell it to the Hampton matrons."</p>
+
+<p>"The matrons of Hampton know nothing of religion; they're theologians."</p>
+
+<p>The lady laughed. "If she is really like I was at her age, I am sorry
+for her. Had I married a man like Leonard&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear, with your excellent taste you did much better; but I thought
+Leonard was a favorite of yours."</p>
+
+<p>"I like him, but I detest his creed."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't suppose he believes it?"</p>
+
+<p>"He says he does, which is of more consequence."</p>
+
+<p>"How can any human being believe the Westminster Confession?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't suppose any human being does. It's a question of obstinacy,
+pride; a question of being caught in a trap."</p>
+
+<p>The doctor laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"You, my dear," continued the lady, "lack religious sentiment. You don't
+care. <i>I</i> cannot help being indignant when I see religion desecrated by
+religionists. It may be from the same feeling that I am sorry for a
+woman who adores her husband, and who must eventually find him out."</p>
+
+<p>"Find him out! My dear&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean find out that he's not all that she has pictured. Leonard is a
+very ordinary mortal."</p>
+
+<p>"But, on the whole, a very good fellow."</p>
+
+<p>"Undoubtedly, but&mdash;a theologian of Hampton. I don't think you
+appreciate all that that may chance to mean to a woman you are pleased
+to call a religious enthusiast&mdash;meaning, I suppose, a woman who really
+craves religion."</p>
+
+<p>"You must not take a word too seriously. The fact is that Mrs. Leonard
+has what may be termed an exalted temperament. One day I found her in
+tears and with traces of great agitation. She had been reading a book of
+ecstatic character. I hinted to Leonard that just now that sort of thing
+wouldn't do&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You were quite right. I remember that I suffered&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't mean to say that the lady had been suffering; on the contrary,
+I think she'd been having a good time. The book, by the way, was the
+life of some Roman saint&mdash;but good times of that sort are not to be
+indulged in by a lady about to have a baby."</p>
+
+<p>"What did Leonard say?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, he was amenable&mdash;more so than I expected. Of course, I said nothing
+about the Catholic book. Leonard is like prospective fathers, easily
+scared. They are much more tractable than prospective mothers; so I
+scared him."</p>
+
+<p>The more easily that Leonard had been willing to be scared.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE MUSIC OF THE CHORUS OF THE ANGUISH OF THE DAMNED.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"Socrates," observed Miss Achsah, "is damned."</p>
+
+<p>"If <i>you</i> say so, he must be," was the sarcastic rejoinder of Tabitha
+Cone.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Claghorn, with a stern gaze at her companion, opened Hodge's
+Commentary on The Confession of Faith and read: "'The heathen in mass,
+with no single, definite and unquestioned example on record, are
+evidently strangers to God and going down to death in an unsaved
+condition.' That," she said, "settles Socrates."</p>
+
+<p>It did not settle Tabitha, whose question touched the weak spot in
+Hodge's assertion. "Where'd he see the record?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Tabitha," remonstrated Miss Achsah with evident sincerity, "sometimes I
+doubt your election. The audacity of setting up <i>your</i> opinion&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Tabitha was human and venerated print. She was a little frightened at
+her own temerity, and Miss Claghorn's seriousness did not tend to
+reassure her. "There's Brigston," she said weakly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; and there's 'Greenland's Icy Mountains,' and 'India's Coral
+Strand,'" answered the lady pertinently, and closing the book and the
+discussion.</p>
+
+<p>But, if closed at the White House, it raged furiously in the theological
+world. Until recently the permanent abode of Socrates had been as well
+known as that of Satan. No decree, whether of Roman or Protestant Pope,
+had been needed to establish a fact settled to the satisfaction of all
+(except, perhaps, to that of the Athenian sage) by the Eternal Decree of
+Omnipotence. It was reserved for a deluded doctor of the rival Seminary
+of Brigston to promulgate doubts of a self-evident truth. Such an
+affront to Westminster and the immutable justice of God was not to be
+borne in silence by Hampton.</p>
+
+<p>A storm of unexampled fury burst from theological clouds, and Leonard,
+sniffing the odor of battle, joyously saw that his day had dawned. Into
+the fray he plunged, a gallant knight armed with the sword of orthodoxy,
+battling in the name of God and by the lurid light of hell, in order
+that the music of the chorus of the anguish of the damned might still
+arise, a dulcet melody, to heaven.</p>
+
+<p>And while the din of the holy war filled the air, Natalie welcomed a
+little babe, the light of whose clear blue eyes melted her soul in
+tenderness. To look into their celestial purity was to see heaven's
+glory reflected in the azure depths. The deeper springs of tenderness,
+closed to the rude touch of Leonard's passion, were opened, and love
+undefiled gushed forth in a stream of unspeakable gladness. Her health
+remained delicate, and she was long confined to the house, but, aside
+from a pleasant languor, being physically at ease, she found in the care
+of the infant sufficient occupation. She was glad that she could be much
+alone with the boy, and held many and sweet communings with that soul
+she had discovered in his eyes. She never wearied of reading the mystery
+of those clear depths and, always connecting the child with heaven, in
+her simple belief, imagining the newcomer as lately from that blissful
+region, she built upon her fancies a system of theology which would have
+startled and confounded the Hampton Matrons. And, as before, in sight of
+the grandeur of God upon the waters, Leonard's lower self had been
+humbled, so now, the beauty of a pure soul, all its glory set forth in
+motherhood, chastened his earthly nature, and he bowed with the
+reverence of simple souls to saints.</p>
+
+<p>Leonard's creed was, as is the case with creeds, a matter apart from his
+life; wherefore there was nothing strange in the fact that he could
+leave the presence of the two pure creatures, and retiring to his study,
+damn countless souls to hell in essays of exceeding force and
+brilliancy. Young as he was, all Hampton gloried in these labors whereby
+Brigston was smitten and abashed. There were champions more learned,
+being older; but, being older, their pens were encumbered with caution
+and hampered by the knowledge that pitfalls and traps lurk in the dark
+thickets of theological controversy. But Leonard had the daring of
+youth. Logic was logic, and truth not for a day, but eternal. Truth led
+to the Westminster Confession, which damns the great majority, Socrates
+included. To quibble with the plain meaning of plain words would be to
+follow the heretical Brigstonian, to deny the inspiration of Scripture,
+to be a traitor to his party and his creed. If the same decree which
+damned Socrates consigned the great majority of his own friends and
+acquaintances to the same everlasting misery, it couldn't be helped.
+And, in fact, there was no reason why Leonard should shrink from that
+which thousands of men and women profess to believe, yet marry and bring
+forth children doomed, the while eating dinner in content.</p>
+
+<p>Echoes of the merry war reached Natalie, but her curiosity was but
+faintly stirred. She saw that Leonard avoided the topic when alone with
+her, and was now content to learn nothing from her husband; seeing in
+her child her best teacher in heavenly lore. Her exhibition of maternal
+love extorted some disapproving comment; Mrs. Joe called it "uncanny,"
+Tabitha said she was a queer mother, Miss Claghorn disapprovingly
+likened her adoration to Romanism&mdash;"Idolatry," she said to Tabitha.</p>
+
+<p>"Yet," replied Tabitha, "she hardly ever hugs or kisses him. She just
+looks at him, and if you catch her at it she passes it off."</p>
+
+<p>"Just as you or I might if the cook were to come in while we were saying
+our prayers."</p>
+
+<p>"Something 'ill happen to the child," said Tabitha ominously.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Claghorn did not dispute it; the two were so perfectly in accord as
+to their sentiment in this matter that there was no chance for dispute.</p>
+
+<p>Thus, in a strange, secret relation, mother and child lived more than a
+year together, and then Tabitha Cone's oracular prophecy was fulfilled.
+Something happened to the child, which something was death; and Natalie
+was stricken as by a thunderbolt.</p>
+
+<p>The most alarming phase of her illness was of short duration; she had
+been long unconscious, and during that period they who watched her had
+noticed, with something akin to awe, the heavenly peacefulness and sweet
+smile of her face. From her mutterings they gathered that she roamed in
+celestial regions with her boy. Dr. Stanley was evidently not favorably
+impressed with these supposed visions, and as soon as it was feasible
+ordered her removal to Stormpoint, where the sun shone brighter than in
+the old house, and where there would be fewer reminders of her loss.</p>
+
+<p>Leonard, who had been severely stricken by the death of the child and
+worn with anxiety on his wife's account, acquiesced. The complete change
+of scene which the physician desired involved his absence from her side.
+"Of course you'll visit her daily, if you choose," said the doctor, "but
+if you are constantly together she will inevitably talk of the child and
+of heaven, and we must keep her away from heaven." Natalie remonstrated,
+but rather feebly. Since the birth of the child Mrs. Joe had seen less
+cause to complain of undue absorption in the husband by the wife. Thus,
+to keep Natalie from contemplation of heaven, Leonard returned to
+contemplation of hell; for the war still raged, though with some
+slackness. Leonard girded up his loins and prepared to inject the spirit
+which had somewhat diminished during his own absence from the lines of
+battle.</p>
+
+<p>The mistress of Stormpoint watched her new inmate keenly. "It's natural
+that she should love her child, even though he's dead," she said to
+Paula, "but she talks with him. I heard her."</p>
+
+<p>"Her faith is perfect," exclaimed Paula with solemn enthusiasm. "She
+knows he lives forever."</p>
+
+<p>"That's all very well; but he don't live at Stormpoint."</p>
+
+<p>"She feels his presence, though she cannot see him."</p>
+
+<p>"She says she does. Of course, it's fiddlesticks; but the doctor ought
+to know."</p>
+
+<p>And the doctor, being informed, agreed with Mrs. Joe that conversation
+with angels was not to be encouraged. "A very little roast beef and a
+great deal of fresh air," was his prescription, "A trip somewhere when
+she is stronger. Meanwhile, keep bores away&mdash;Father Cameril and
+Leonard."</p>
+
+<p>"I can't lock Leonard out."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish you could; he has a grievance and may be tempted to unburden his
+soul to his wife."</p>
+
+<p>"I have heard of no grievance."</p>
+
+<p>"You will; the reaction has come. Yesterday they crowned him with
+laurels; to-day they are damning him&mdash;of course, in parliamentary
+phrase&mdash;from the president of the Seminary down to the janitor."</p>
+
+<p>"Impossible! Why, Doctor, only a few days since Dr. Burley spoke of him
+in the highest terms."</p>
+
+<p>"A few days since! Ask him now. Leonard has played the frog to Burley's
+ox. It was right to confute Brigston with Greek texts; they produced a
+good deal of fog and little illumination. But Leonard must shove himself
+in as interpreter between the heavyweights and the populace. Of course
+his action was abhorrent; it is to me. There ought to be an <i>esprit de
+corps</i> in all professions. I shouldn't approve if some young medical
+spark were to give away <i>our</i> secrets."</p>
+
+<p>The physician, if flippantly, spoke the truth. Leonard had been rash, as
+youth is wont to be. Wise and venerable heads had from the beginning
+wagged in disapproval of his excess of zeal. To bury the Brigstonian
+deep beneath the fragments of his own exploded logic was well, but it
+was also well to be wary, to lay no hasty hand upon and drag forth
+mysteries which could not bear the light of day. Leonard was brilliant;
+but brilliancy was not caution. Theological argumentation, to be
+convincing, must be obscure; mystification, rather than conviction, is
+the prop of faith.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry he's in trouble," observed the lady.</p>
+
+<p>The doctor shrugged his shoulders. "Inevitable!" he exclaimed. "He's
+obstinate and conceited. His last pamphlet, 'Dr. Burley's True Meaning,'
+is monstrous. What right had he to give Burley away in that manner? If
+Burley had wanted to state his meaning, wouldn't he have done it?
+Leonard swallows the whole Westminster Confession at a gulp, and points
+out that Hampton and Burley do the same thing. What maladroit
+presumption! He ought to know that Hampton only bolts the morsel
+because it must. Its contortions during the process of deglutition ought
+to be charitably concealed. Who is Leonard that he should tear away the
+veil which hides a harrowing spectacle?"</p>
+
+<p>Which burst of eloquence was not wholly intelligible to the lady, who,
+however, saw the need of dragging the doctor down from his hobby. "Well,
+he must not discuss these matters with his wife," she said, "if you
+disapprove."</p>
+
+<p>"No. For ladies in the condition of our patient the Westminster
+Confession is too lurid. Needless to say to a matron of your experience
+that in the case of a bereaved young mother the brain should not be
+excited, the affections over-stimulated, the fancy be allowed to rove at
+will, either amid the joys of heaven or the horrors of hell."</p>
+
+<p>Wherefore Paula was instructed to avoid conversation concerning themes
+celestial or infernal, and was thus deprived of a pleasure; for there
+had been much loving talk between her and Natalie concerning the child,
+now abiding in heavenly regions. Perhaps Natalie sorrowed a little,
+noting that Paula no longer lingered over the favorite topic; if so, she
+made no comment; her thoughts were her own.</p>
+
+<p>"What is true marriage?" she asked one day.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I don't know," replied Paula, taken unawares, and not sure whether
+this new topic were celestial or infernal. "Celibacy, as the ideal
+state&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"A wife vows obedience," interrupted Natalie&mdash;she had heard Paula before
+on celibacy&mdash;"that's a small matter. Who wouldn't be obedient?"</p>
+
+<p>"But, suppose a husband were to require something wrong," suggested
+Paula, disturbed by the fleeting vision of a wife of St. Perpetua
+deprived of fish on Fridays by a wicked spouse.</p>
+
+<p>"He wouldn't be a true husband. My ideal of marriage is unity in all
+things&mdash;tastes, hopes, beliefs&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Belief, of course. And to the realization of that ideal a churchwoman
+would lead her husband."</p>
+
+<p>"Or, if the husband were the better Christian, he would lead his wife."</p>
+
+<p>After due consideration, Paula repeated the monosyllable "if?"</p>
+
+<p>"And, if he showed no disposition to lead his wife, which might be the
+case for some good reason, she ought to try and attain his standpoint.
+Then she would evince that perfect sympathy which all the while the
+husband may be longing for."</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I suppose so," replied Paula, always dreading an approach toward
+forbidden ground.</p>
+
+<p>"If a wife had wronged her husband, even without intention," Natalie
+went on, after a considerable pause, "that fact would stand in the way
+of complete sympathy."</p>
+
+<p>"There could be no wrong without intention&mdash;that is, no fault."</p>
+
+<p>"But still a wrong; one that the doer might find it harder to forgive
+than the sufferer. If you were my wife. Paula&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Say husband," said Paula, laughing, "and since you find obedience so
+easy, I order you to prepare to let me drive you to the White House in
+the pony-phaeton."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>CURSING AND BEATING HER BREAST, SHE FELL UPON THE GRAVE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Mrs. Joe sought, and very easily obtained, Leonard's confidence in
+regard to the grievance to which Dr. Stanley had alluded. Hampton had
+been only too glad, so he averred, to accept his aid in overcoming
+Brigston; and if that was in the way of accomplishment (and who could
+deny it?) the fact was more attributable to him (Leonard) than to any
+other man. "I simply popularized Dr. Burley's learned, but certainly
+obscurely-written article, giving its author full credit; and now he
+says I misrepresented him, and his complaint is echoed by every toady in
+Hampton. The papers, even the secular papers, are actually making sport
+of me."</p>
+
+<p>"But Dr. Burley can't deny what he wrote."</p>
+
+<p>Even Leonard smiled at her simplicity. "He can deny what I wrote,
+although, in other words, it is exactly what he wrote. And that is
+morally just as bad."</p>
+
+<p>The lady was full of sympathy; the more so as his "bumptiousness" was
+gone. He had been plainly deeply wounded, yet out of consideration for
+his wife, he had borne his grief in silence. In Mrs. Joe's eyes this
+abnegation deserved recognition. There was a way by which he could
+humiliate his enemies, and yet be of so much importance that they would
+not venture to show resentment. She had, as we know, already "worked the
+Seminary" in behoof of her "policy." She could work it a little more,
+and help both Leonard and herself. Her donations to the library had not
+heretofore been of large amounts, for she shrank from ostentation, but
+she had always intended to be magnificent on some convenient occasion.
+By being so through Leonard, she could avoid display and yet possess its
+advantages, for the Seminary authorities would, of course, know the
+source of a donation from a modestly anonymous lady, coming through the
+hands of Leonard.</p>
+
+<p>So this matter was easily arranged. "And," suggested the lady, "after
+you have given notice of the donation and have heaped coals on Dr.
+Burley's head, go away for awhile. It will do you good, and they can
+think their conduct over."</p>
+
+<p>The idea appealed to Leonard, who saw the situation dramatically; but
+when Mrs. Joe proposed that he accompany herself, Paula and Natalie on a
+visit to Mrs. Leon at Newport, he declined with some perturbation. "I'll
+go to New York," he said. And, on the whole, Mrs. Joe thought this was
+best, though she was surprised.</p>
+
+<p>She was glad when he had departed, believing that his absence would have
+the effect of rousing Natalie from a condition incompatible with the
+life of every day, in that it would result in wholesome longing for her
+husband. And the politic lady soon saw her hope justified. Leonard had
+been gone but a day when Natalie announced a desire to return to her own
+house; not to remain, but to order some domestic arrangements, more
+especially with the view of making Leonard's study more attractive than
+it had been, even in those days of "coddling" which Mrs. Joe had once
+found objectionable, but whose returning symptoms she now hailed with
+approval.</p>
+
+<p>At Natalie's request she was driven past the cemetery, where she
+alighted, and, bidding the coachman wait, she sought her child's grave.
+Some tears came to her eyes as she laid flowers on the still fresh earth
+and stood for many minutes leaning on the headstone. Her thoughts were
+far away. In a room in Paris she saw a woman humbled by a consciousness
+of wrong; and here, at the most sacred spot on earth, she renewed her
+vow of atonement.</p>
+
+<p>She returned slowly to the carriage and was driven to the Morley
+mansion, where she was welcomed with effusion by the maids. From them
+she for the first time learned that her husband had often worked far
+into the night, and while listening to their comments, she reproached
+herself that she had left him alone. The house, with its closed
+shutters, was gloomy even on this bright day; what had it been in the
+long nights?</p>
+
+<p>She instructed the servants to prepare a light luncheon for her at noon
+and leave it on the dining table, paying no further heed to her. She
+intended, she said, to arrange her husband's books.</p>
+
+<p>But first she went upstairs. There beside her bed was the child's crib,
+cheerless without its sheets and embroidery. The empty room, from which
+daylight was nearly excluded chilled her. The rugs were removed and her
+heels clicked sharply on the bare floor, making hollow echoes as she
+walked. She overcame the oppressive sense of desolation and went about
+her tasks.</p>
+
+<p>She put the child's trinkets away; the spoon which had been useless, the
+cup from which he had never drunk, the gold chain given by Mrs. Joe, and
+which, partaking of the nature of the Great Serpent, had been found too
+heavy for agreeable wear; these were laid among her treasures. His
+clothes, except the little gown he had worn when dying, were put aside
+to be sent to poor women, already mothers or about to become such.
+Leonard had once suggested kindly that they were too fine. "The mothers
+won't think so," she had replied.</p>
+
+<p>This work finished, she closed the door of the room and walked down the
+broad, old-fashioned stairway, every foot-fall echoing through the
+ancient house of which she seemed to be the only occupant; and though
+she knew the maids were at their tasks and within reach, the impression
+affected her unpleasantly. She glanced more than once over her shoulder
+as she descended the staircase and walked through the echoing hall.</p>
+
+<p>She entered the library&mdash;a large room, dedicated, at least nominally,
+even in the days of Jeremiah Morley, to its present purpose, and later,
+by Cousin Jared and her husband, lined from floor to ceiling with books,
+a cheerful room when lighted, but now, with bare floor and closed
+shutters, a gloomy vault in whose distant corners, where the shadows
+were dark, the spirits of former occupants might lurk and peer at this
+invader. The uncanny impressions that had been with her were deepened by
+the sombre fancies awakened by the aspect of the room, in which the
+confusion attendant on Leonard's labors was everywhere apparent. Books
+were everywhere&mdash;on chairs, on tables, on the floor, face downward in
+the shelves.</p>
+
+<p>She took up a small volume. Its evident antiquity attracted her and she
+read the title-page: "Delay Not; or, A Call to the Careless," by the
+Reverend Eliphalet Claghorn. Numerous names on the fly-leaves disclosed
+that the book had been handed down through many Claghorns. The last name
+was her husband's; preceding that his father's, to whom it had been
+given, as testified by the inscription, by "E. Beverley Claghorn." E.
+Beverley Claghorn, she knew, had been her own father. Turning the pages,
+her attention was arrested.</p>
+
+<p>She read for hours. Sunk in a heap on the floor, forgotten by the
+servants, her eyes gloated on the page written by her ancestor. No
+romance had ever enchained her attention as did all this "Call to the
+Careless." If the writer had so charmed the reader of his own
+generation, the dead hand that had composed the pages which held this
+reader spell-bound must have been guided by a brain cunning in the
+author's craft. Whatever was the story, the woman lived in its terrors;
+she cowered and moaned, her eyes stood out, and her face was a face
+distorted by the horror of a soul in fear. But she could not leave the
+story. Enthralled until the last page had been turned, she only then
+looked up, and her eyes, which that morning had been bright with the
+light of hope, born of the resolve to resume her duties as a wife, were
+now dull with the shadow of an awful dread.</p>
+
+<p>She glanced fearfully around and tried to rise, but crouched again upon
+the floor, one hand still clutching book and dust-cloth, the other held
+as though to shield her from a blow. She uttered no word, but a strange,
+hoarse rattle came from her throat, as though she would have prayed, had
+her voice been at her command. At last she rose, half staggering,
+retreating backward toward the door, as though she feared some presence,
+and, not daring to turn, must face it. Thus she passed out of the room
+and from the house.</p>
+
+<p>She walked, at first, with uncertain steps, then more firmly, and with
+ever swifter stride. The by-streets through which she passed were quiet,
+almost deserted; she was hardly noticed, though in one or two observers
+a faint curiosity was aroused by the figure of the well-dressed, hatless
+woman, be-aproned and clasping to her breast a dust-cloth and a book. As
+for her, she noticed nothing as she hastened on.</p>
+
+<p>Without pause, with ever-increasing pace, which had now become a run,
+she entered the gates of the cemetery, threading its alleys, seeing
+nothing with her bodily eyes; for their horror and despair were no
+reflection of the mournful yet peaceful scene in which she passed. She
+came to the grave of her child. Again she crouched as she had done in
+the library of her home; her despairing eyes were turned upward and her
+hands raised in appeal to the serene and pitiless sky.</p>
+
+<p>Words came to her in the language of her childhood. "My God," she cried,
+"Fiend that dwellest beyond the sky, have mercy. Pitiless Father, who
+didst condemn thy Son for sport, whose nostrils love the scent of
+burning men, whose ears find music in their agony, whose eyes gloat upon
+their writhings, take me to thy hell of torment and release my child."</p>
+
+<p>And so, with frantic blasphemy, cursing God and beating her breast, she
+fell forward upon the baby's grave.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX.</h2>
+
+<h3>DR. STANLEY DISCOURSES CONCERNING THE DIVERSIONS OF THE SAINTS.</h3>
+
+
+<p>At the hour agreed upon, Mrs. Joe left Stormpoint to fetch Natalie. As
+the latter had done in the morning, and in order to inspect the
+newly-erected headstone, she alighted from her carriage at the cemetery
+and passed through various alleys, when, as she approached her
+destination, she suddenly halted.</p>
+
+<p>A woman was stretched upon the grave, who, on hearing the ejaculation of
+Mrs. Joe, partly raised her head, disclosing an earth-bedaubed face, and
+emitting sounds not human, but rather the moans of a tortured animal.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Joe ran and seized her shoulder, and at the touch Natalie half
+arose. Her gleaming eyes, her face distorted and soiled with
+earth&mdash;these presented an appalling spectacle.</p>
+
+<p>The lady of Stormpoint could hardly have told how the task was
+accomplished, but she succeeded in inducing the frantic woman to enter
+the carriage, and, thus separated from the grave, she became quieter,
+though never ceasing to mutter phrases which caused the listener to
+shudder. Mrs. Joe was a woman of varied experience. She had heard the
+oaths of mining camps when pistols and knives were out and frenzied
+ruffians were athirst for blood; she would have thought no form of
+profanity strange to her ears; yet she had heard no blasphemy equal to
+that uttered by her companion, repeated as a weary child asleep may
+repeat some hard-learned sentence impressed upon a tired brain.</p>
+
+<p>Arrived home, and Natalie in her bed, and withal lying quiet, and the
+carriage dispatched at full speed for Dr. Stanley, there was time to
+consider the next step.</p>
+
+<p>"Send for Father Cameril," urged Paula.</p>
+
+<p>"What is Leonard's address?" asked the lady, ignoring the suggestion.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear," said Paula, caressingly, and taking Natalie's hand, "where is
+Leonard?"</p>
+
+<p>"In hell," was the answer. "I am overjoyed in hearing the howlings of
+hell. My joy is increased as I gaze upon Leonard in the midst of that
+sea of suffering."</p>
+
+<p>"Good Lord deliver us!" ejaculated Mrs. Joe. Paula fell upon her knees.
+"Father in heaven!" she commenced.</p>
+
+<p>Natalie looked at her with languid interest "The sight of hell-torments
+exalts the happiness of the saints," she said.</p>
+
+<p>At this delectable quotation from Jonathan Edwards Mrs. Joe wrung her
+hands; Paula uttered a half scream and burst into tears; in the same
+moment Dr. Stanley was ushered into the room.</p>
+
+<p>"A frightful shock!" was his verdict. "Absolute quiet! No tears; no
+exorcisms," with a warning finger upheld for Paula. "I'll send a nurse
+at once and return soon."</p>
+
+<p>By night he was again in the house, having received bulletins from the
+nurse in the meanwhile. The patient was asleep; had been so for nearly
+three hours. "Excellent!" he said to Mrs. Joe, finding that lady
+awaiting his report in the library. "It's a fine brain, Mrs. Claghorn.
+Let us hope it may prove a strong one. Can you explain further than you
+could this afternoon?"</p>
+
+<p>"The keeper of the cemetery knows nothing. Her maids are here. I sent
+James for them, and have kept them to be questioned by you."</p>
+
+<p>The maids only knew that Mrs. Leonard had visited the house, and had
+spent the day in the library; that one of them, noting that her mistress
+had neglected the luncheon that had been laid out for her, had ventured
+to look into the room. "She was crouched on the floor, reading; I could
+not well see her face. When I spoke she waved her hand, as though I was
+not to interrupt. That was about two o'clock. I went back to the
+kitchen, just putting the tea on the range so's to heat it. Then neither
+Martha nor I thought anything more about her, until about five Martha
+thought she heard the front door slam. We looked in the library; she
+was gone. She hadn't touched the lunch." Such, relieved of some
+circumlocution, was the report of the maid most glib of speech. They
+were dismissed by the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>"She has done," was his comment, "that which creed-adherents usually
+omit. She has read, and as a consequence is crazed."</p>
+
+<p>"Crazed as a consequence of reading!" exclaimed Mrs. Joe.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Leonard has sustained a shock; there must be a cause. No external
+injury is discoverable. The cause is to be found in her moral, or, if
+you please, her spiritual constitution&mdash;I don't care what you call
+it&mdash;among other things in strong maternal yearnings&mdash;subjective causes
+these, and not sufficient to explain the seizure; there must have been
+an agent. The maid found her deeply absorbed; people that read crouched
+on the floor are so; therefore a book&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I took this from her," exclaimed the lady, producing the Reverend
+Eliphalet's "Call to the Careless."</p>
+
+<p>"Aha!" exclaimed the doctor, pouncing upon the volume and glancing at
+the title-page, "here we have it; here's enough to convert a lying-in
+hospital into Bedlam."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Joe gazed upon the fat little volume in the hand of the speaker,
+with the same expression with which a novice might contemplate an
+overgrown spider impaled upon the card of a collector.</p>
+
+<p>"This unctuous treatise," proceeded the doctor, who, finding his hobby
+saddled, was impatient to mount, "was written by a shining light of that
+family to which you and I have been graciously permitted to ally
+ourselves. In this volume are recorded the ecstatic transports of one of
+the most blessed of the blessed Claghorns. Our patient may have derived
+her tendency to exaltation from this very rhapsodist. Here, with the
+Reverend Eliphalet, we may revel in angelic joys; with him, we may,
+god-like, gloat over sinners damned, and, enraptured, contemplate
+Flames, Torment and Despair; here our ears may be charmed with the Roars
+of Age, the Howls of Youth, the Screams of Childhood and the Wails of
+Infancy; all in linked sweetness long drawn out; all in capital
+letters, and all extorted by the Flames that Lick the Suffering
+Damned!"</p>
+
+<p>"Doctor!" exclaimed the lady, scandalized at that which she supposed was
+a burst of profanity.</p>
+
+<p>"Shocked? Well, shocking it is&mdash;in me, who refuse to believe it, but
+edifying in Eliphalet. Ah! madam, the evil that men do lives after them.
+Was truth ever better exemplified? Listen to this: The writer pictures
+himself in heaven and looking down into hell. 'What joy to behold Truth
+vindicated from all the horrid aspersions of hellish monsters!' (that's
+me) 'I am overjoyed at hearing the everlasting Howlings of the Haters of
+the Almighty! Oh! Sweet, sweet. My heart is satisfied!'"</p>
+
+<p>The lady attempted to interrupt, but the doctor continued to read: "The
+saints in glory will see and better understand (than we do) how terrible
+the sufferings of the damned are! When they have this sight it will
+excite them to joyful praises,' that's a choice bit from Jonathan
+Edwards. What do you think of the diversions of 'the saints in glory?'"</p>
+
+<p>"It's blasphemy!"</p>
+
+<p>"Blasphemy! Tell it not in Hampton! But listen to Jonathan again. Here
+is his picture of a sinner just condemned. His parents are witnesses of
+his terror and agony, and thus they righteously gloat: 'When they shall
+see what manifestations of amazement will be in you at the hearing of
+this dreadful sentence; when they shall behold you with a frightened and
+amazed countenance, trembling and astonished, and shall hear you groan
+and gnash your teeth, these things will not move them at all to pity
+you, but you will see them with a holy joy in their countenances and
+with songs in their mouths. When they shall see you turned away and
+beginning to enter into the great furnace, and shall see how you shrink
+at it, and hear how you shriek and cry out, yet they will not be at all
+grieved for you; but at the same time you will hear from them renewed
+praises and hallelujahs for this true and righteous judgment of God in
+so dealing with you!'"</p>
+
+<p>"If," interjected the listener, "that is written there, the devil wrote
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"The devil may have had a hand in the matter, but it was written by no
+less a person than Jonathan Edwards, regarded, and justly, by the
+Reverend Eliphalet and others, as a great man. He is also quoted here as
+saying to his hearers, 'If you perish hereafter, it will be an occasion
+of joy to all the godly'; one is hardly surprised that he didn't get on
+with his congregation. Imagine Father Cameril making that announcement
+with you and Miss Paula in the front pew."</p>
+
+<p>"Doctor, if you are not inventing&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I could not. My imagination is not warmed by the flames of hell or by
+celestial visions. This book is filled with similar elegant extracts."</p>
+
+<p>"I have heard enough, Doctor. Really&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Permit me one or two more. We have hardly heard the author himself as
+yet."</p>
+
+<p>"But to what end?"</p>
+
+<p>"You were incredulous when I asserted that a day's reading in Leonard's
+library would account for the present condition of his wife. It's only
+fair to allow me to justify my assertion."</p>
+
+<p>"You have read enough to drive <i>me</i> crazy, if for one moment I believed
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"Hardly. <i>You</i> are not a recently bereaved mother; <i>you</i> are not just
+emerging from a condition consequent upon disturbance of the physical
+economy which has reacted upon the mental; <i>you</i> are not inclined to
+mysticism, to see visions, to find pictures in goblets of water or in
+grate fires; in short, while you have your own idiosyncrasies, they are
+not of a character to render you liable to this sort of transport. But
+there are organizations which, though seduced by mystic lore, can hardly
+contemplate such matters without injury. The compiler of this book, the
+men he quotes, the ecstatics in general&mdash;revivalists, hermits, nuns and
+monks in all ages&mdash;do you believe that as a class they were well
+balanced? Peering into heaven is a dangerous business."</p>
+
+<p>"The men you have quoted seem to have peered into hell."</p>
+
+<p>"That is the Puritan mode of ecstatic enjoyment. Our Catholic&mdash;I beg
+your pardon, our Roman Catholic&mdash;enthusiasts, being more artistic, and
+lovers of the beautiful, prefer contemplation of heaven. Unlike the
+smug Puritan, they do not spare their bodies. They fast and flog, wear
+hair shirts, roll in ashes and wash seldom, but their eyes are turned
+upward; they urge the spirit to rejoice. Your fat and well-fed Calvinist
+prefers a gloom irradiated by the flames of hell, in which he can behold
+the writhing victims of God's vanity&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Doctor, you are as bitter as all your brethren; you unbeliever&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know that I'm more of an unbeliever than you are. I'm sure if
+the Reverend Eliphalet has not by this time modified his opinions, he
+has no expectation of meeting you in heaven. Hear him as he warns
+humanity against the devices of Satan: 'Of which,' he says, 'the traces
+are visible even in the church. In these days there hath arisen a
+delusive hope as to infants. Some hold, and a few dare to assert, though
+with bated breath, that all infants die in the grace of God. Who saith
+this? Not God, who, by His Eternal Decree, hath declared that none but
+His Elect are saved. Not our Confession of Faith, formulated at
+Westminster in earnest prayer and reverence for the Word. Not the
+framers of that Confession, of whom I may mention Twisse, as having
+specially wrote against this new-born folly, extorted by the cunning of
+the Enemy of Souls by means of the bleatings of foolish mothers&mdash;search
+the Scripture, reader! Nowhere shalt thou find any saved but His
+Elect.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Abominable!" ejaculated the lady.</p>
+
+<p>"Poetical. 'Bleatings of foolish mothers' is quite so. And now our good
+man actually drops into the poetry of the Reverend Michael Wigglesworth,
+whose 'Day of Doom' he quotes at length. I will not inflict the whole
+fifteen stanzas upon you; but listen to a morsel or two. This is the
+Argument: The Still-born appear at the Seat of Mercy, and put in a plea
+for grace that might have weight in Senegambia, but which has none in
+the heaven of Eliphalet and of Hampton:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Then to the bar they all drew near who died in Infancy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And never had, or good or bad, effected personally,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But from the womb unto the tomb were straightway carried<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(Or at the least, ere they transgressed), who thus began to plead.'<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>"Their plea is that since Adam, the actual delinquent, has been 'set
+free, and saved from his trespass,' they are on better grounds entitled
+to consideration. To the finite intelligence there would seem to be some
+force in the infantile argument. What says Omnipotence?</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'I may deny you once to try, or grace to you to tender,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though he finds Grace before my face who was the chief offender.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You sinners are, and such a share as sinners may expect,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such you shall have, for I do save none but mine own elect;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet to compare your sin with their who sinned a longer time,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I do confess yours is much less, though every sin's a crime;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A crime it is, therefore in bliss you may not hope to dwell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But unto you I shall allow THE EASIEST ROOM IN HELL.'"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>The doctor closed the book. "I submit that I have proved my contention,"
+he said. "Do you doubt now that Mrs. Leonard was affected by her
+browsings among Leonard's books? The men who wrote the matter of which
+this volume is made up were largely the founders of Hampton, men whose
+names she has heard venerated as almost inspired of God."</p>
+
+<p>"Even so, how could she believe such absurdities?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not assert that she believed. Belief in the impossible is
+impossible. But have you never been deeply impressed by fiction; never
+been scared by a ghost story? Have you shed tears over the sorrows of
+Colonel Newcome? The few quotations you have heard cause you to shrink,
+though you are well aware they are but foolish words. But if you could
+<i>see</i> the scenes herein depicted, I do not think you could bear the
+prospect. I am sure <i>I</i> should howl as lustily as any hellish monster
+here referred to. Well, Mrs. Leonard being so constituted, has actually
+<i>seen</i> these horrors, and, in the central figure, has contemplated the
+writhings of her child."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Doctor!" she spoke in a subdued tone, her eyes expressing more than
+her words.</p>
+
+<p>"Even you, here in this well-lighted and cheerful room, with me, a very
+material and matter-of-fact person, beside you, even you can feel a
+faint reflection of the terrors in which this woman spent the day.
+Alone, without food, a deserted room, a gloomy house, but lately
+cheerful with the prattle of a childish voice, forever silent, but of
+which the echoes still linger in the mother's ears&mdash;here's enough and
+more than enough to disturb an exalted temperament, a morbid
+imagination. Add this"&mdash;the doctor shook the book in his hand&mdash;"and what
+need of belief, if by belief you mean the result of a reasoning process?
+The ideas suggested <i>here took possession of her</i>! Belief! Pshaw! nobody
+believes in this stuff; but Hampton says it believes."</p>
+
+<p>"But that's monstrous!"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing more common than loud assertions of belief where is no belief.
+That's politics, partisanship."</p>
+
+<p>"But this is religion&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"So-called."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"The Westminster Confession is a written document. The men who composed
+it knew what they wished to say, and said it so clearly that nobody can
+misapprehend their meaning. Your own creed of compromises&mdash;pardon me,
+compromise is always the resort of politicians who understand their
+business&mdash;was wiser, or luckier; its Articles are all loopholes in
+regard to this doctrine of Election&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Doctor, your ignorance of my church is so palpable that I decline to
+take your word concerning Hampton and the Confession of Faith. I've
+never read it&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Even its adherents are not so rash. It becomes a serious matter as to
+one's self-respect to maintain a monstrous absurdity, after one knows
+it. Nevertheless, the Westminster Confession teaches as truth all that
+the Reverend Eliphalet says, or that Michael Wigglesworth grotesquely
+sings. Moreover, it is annually published under the title of 'The
+Constitution and Standards of the Presbyterian Church in the United
+States of America'&mdash;a solemn declaration that God, before the creation
+of man, damned the great majority to everlasting agony so excruciating
+as to be beyond conception, and all for His own glory and pleasure."</p>
+
+<p>"Yet I know, and you ought to know, that Christianity offers salvation
+to every soul through the medium of its Founder."</p>
+
+<p>"Denied <i>in toto</i> by Westminster. According to the Confession, not even
+Jesus Christ could diminish the number of the damned, fixed before the
+creation of a single soul. If Mrs. Leonard's baby was born to be damned,
+damned he is."</p>
+
+<p>"Now I know you are asserting what is not so. I have heard infant
+damnation denied by Hampton professors."</p>
+
+<p>"And may again. I do not claim that a single human being believes the
+Westminster Confession; but I do maintain that he who acknowledges that
+Confession as his standard, and retains membership in that church, which
+annually promulgates the same as truth, either believes an outrageous
+absurdity, or says he believes it. If he is not willing to do this, he
+has no right in the organization; why, only the other day Dr. Willis was
+requested to get out because he declined to say he believed that which
+he does not believe."</p>
+
+<p>"Doctor, I am sorry to say it, but your statements are not credible&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't apologize. Of course they are not; but they are true. I certainly
+don't blame you for doubting my word. But you shall ask Hodge; I'll lend
+you his commentary. Hodge hopes as to infants, but is honest enough to
+admit that in the Confession there is no ground for hope. He damns all
+heathen incontinently, which includes all the babies I ever knew, though
+he may have known babies that were not heathen. And, after all, why this
+solicitude for babies? Why is it less monstrous to condemn to eternal
+torture a being six feet long than one of three? Why, on the last
+occasion I was in a church I heard these words: 'The sentiment which
+sorrows over what God reveals as His will is simply maudlin. When the
+Christian finds out who are in the regions of despair he will neither be
+affected by their number nor by the duration of their punishment.'
+That's not much better than 'bleating mothers.' And in the
+meanwhile"&mdash;he concluded a tirade so rapidly uttered that his auditor
+had had no opportunity to interrupt&mdash;"they are quarreling about Socrates
+and tobacco, crusading against my bottle of claret, and sending
+missionaries to Japan." Who "they" were he had no opportunity to
+designate, for at this moment a messenger from the nurse announced that
+the patient was awake.</p>
+
+<p>When the doctor and the lady entered the room, Natalie looked at them,
+but betrayed no surprise. Mrs. Joe was startled by the expression of her
+face, which was peaceful, even happy. "Heaven is beautiful," she said,
+without other preface. "Birds and flowers and little children. Oh! the
+happy little children and Lenny among them; all so happy, so rosy! Ah, I
+am glad!" And even as she sighed her gladness she sank into slumber. The
+doctor watched her anxiously for many minutes; then he signed to Mrs.
+Joe to follow, and they softly left the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it death?" asked the lady, who had been frightened by his anxious
+face.</p>
+
+<p>"Such visions often mean death; there's nothing certain yet, but every
+hope. Go to bed, Mrs. Claghorn; I shall remain here."</p>
+
+<p>But though the lady declined to go to bed, the discussion was not
+resumed.</p>
+
+<p>About four in the morning he went alone to the room, and soon returned
+with a smiling face. "She is sleeping naturally," he said. "A few hours
+since I feared for her reason; now I have great hope. I shall return at
+eight o'clock. Let nobody go near her. Burn that thing; she must never
+see it again." He pointed to the "Call to the Careless," and left the
+house.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX.</h2>
+
+<h3>STARTLING EFFECT OF "DR. BURLEY'S TRUE MEANING."</h3>
+
+
+<p>Leonard remained in New York, ignorant of the events which had
+transpired at Stormpoint, concerning which, however, he was soon
+informed by a letter written by Mrs. Joe, a letter which conveyed the
+intelligence that his wife had fainted in the cemetery "as a consequence
+of over-exertion," that Dr. Stanley wished the intended visit to Newport
+to be made as soon as possible, that there was no need of his presence
+in Easthampton, and that if he were to come there he would probably find
+his wife already departed. All of which, though dictated by the
+physician, had been written with misgiving, as conveying an insufficient
+statement of the facts. But the doctor had been peremptory. "Keep them
+apart," he had said. "The only subject on which Leonard can expatiate
+just now is damnation, and of that the wife has had more than enough."</p>
+
+<p>Leonard evinced no desire to follow the Newport party. Misled by the
+communication from the lady of Stormpoint, and yet more influenced by
+reluctance to enter the household of Mrs. Leon, of which household he
+assumed Berthe Lenoir to be still an inmate, he was willing to enjoy a
+holiday which he thought he had fairly earned. Mrs. Joe, though
+surprised by his acquiescence, was relieved. She was still more
+surprised when her keen vision detected that Natalie was equally
+relieved. "It seemed," she observed to the doctor, "to lighten her
+heart."</p>
+
+<p>"Instinct," he replied, and made no further comment; but though
+ordinarily very discreet as to professional matters, he mentioned the
+circumstance to his wife, at the same time advancing a theory which
+startled that lady.</p>
+
+<p>Freed from anxiety concerning Natalie, whose letters, though very short,
+reported continuing improvement in the matter of health, Leonard
+resolved, for the present at least, to forget the ingratitude of
+Hampton, and to enjoy to the fullest his bachelor outing. He recalled
+his strolls on Parisian Boulevards, and in fancy lived in past delights,
+promenading Broadway with the old Parisian strut, though modified, and
+not oblivious of the fact that here, as in Paris, were handsome eyes,
+not unwilling to return the glance of one who had been likened to a
+Greek god.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes, indeed often, he lamented that his lot had not been cast in
+the great world. His instincts truthfully told him that, as a man of
+action, he would have presented no mean figure; there were even moments
+when he wished, though he knew the futility of such a wish, that he
+might never see Hampton or hear of theology again. This he knew well
+enough was but the natural reaction from the strain of his recent
+labors, but he toyed with the thought, half playfully, half regretfully,
+as indicating one of the things that might have been. If there were any
+conscience-pricks they were too feeble to be felt; he had ceased to be a
+boy (so he said to himself); the boy, for instance, he had been when, on
+the Heidelberg terrace, he had yearned over the erring soul of his
+cousin. The religious sentiment which once had glowed so ardently in his
+bosom was burned out, consumed in the heat of partisan theology; but
+though he knew this, he did not know the meaning of the fact. To him it
+meant that his salvation was assured, and with that conviction the great
+concern of life had passed into the peace which passeth understanding.</p>
+
+<p>Just now, however, he was not giving much attention to his personal
+religious attitude, as he moved among the city's throngs well-clad, rosy
+and with the form and grace of an athlete and the eager eyes of
+innocence and unconscious desire. In the delight of the holiday, a
+delight which sometimes rose to a surprising fervor, he thought of
+certain Parisian peccadillos, and more than once half resolved to renew
+his acquaintance with the ballet and <i>belles jambes</i>, like unto those of
+Mademoiselle Coralie, which gamboled ravishingly in the haze of memory;
+but he rejected the imprudent suggestion; he might be recognized, and
+Brigston would rejoice in unholy glee, if its most potent adversary&mdash;he
+wondered if this fact were known to the passers-by&mdash;were discovered in a
+temple of dubious recreation. Such recollections brought Paris very
+vividly before his eyes, and for some reason also the memory of Berthe
+and of that rapturous kiss; and perhaps at such times the handsome face
+assumed the look of which Mrs. Joe had disapproved.</p>
+
+<p>The remembrance of Berthe recalled Natalie, who, as he believed, was in
+the house with her former maid, and Natalie's beauty, and he was filled
+with tenderness, and his soul yearned with a great longing, and had it
+not been that Berthe was there he would have fled to Newport. He
+recognized now a fact of which he had, in a vague way, been long
+conscious, the fact that ever since the birth of the boy he and his wife
+had grown somewhat apart. She had been engrossed with the child, and he
+with his theological war. He regretted it, and resolved that it must not
+be so in the future. Loving one another as they did, it would be easy to
+grow together again. He would tell her how grievously he had been
+treated by Hampton, in its envy; and on the beautiful bosom that he
+loved and that was his own, would pour out his griefs and find sweetest
+solace. If she would only curtail her visit!</p>
+
+<p>One day there came a letter from his wife which he opened in the eager
+hope that it would announce the termination of her stay in Newport. He
+was disappointed in this, and was further rendered uneasy by the tone of
+constraint in which it was written, or which he imagined; for if there
+were constraint, it was hard to point out just where it lay; yet he
+felt, if he could not see, that the pen of the writer had been heavy in
+her hand. But he was more than uneasy; he felt resentment rising within
+him as he read the postscript, which was as follows: "Do you believe
+that there is an eternal hell and that many are condemned? Will you
+answer this as briefly as possible?"</p>
+
+<p>He studied the written words with growing annoyance. The curtness of the
+question seemed to indicate that to the questioner the matter was of
+minor import&mdash;trivial, in fact; if she really thought thus, then all his
+recent labors had been labor in vain. Nothing had so angered him as
+suggestions of this character, frequently made by a godless secular
+press. One journal had, with pretended gravity, argued that since all
+heathen and their progeny must be damned, extermination was more
+merciful than the hopeless attempt at conversion, and at least as
+practicable; another had flippantly suggested that Professor Claghorn be
+required to demonstrate the utility of theological seminaries, since no
+product of those institutions could, by any possibility, be instrumental
+in saving a single soul&mdash;and so on. All of which he had borne with a
+fair show of equanimity, but he had smarted; and now Natalie's question
+seemed, at first sight, an echo of the unworthy journalistic jibes.
+There might be various opinions concerning hell; it was conceivable that
+the great majority preferred an attitude of incredulity as to its
+inevitable destination; but, at least, it was a serious subject.</p>
+
+<p>But later readings of the letter seemed to indicate that it had been
+written with a heavy heart. There was affection in it, but a tone of
+gloom as well, which, though Natalie admitted that her health was
+completely restored, was too apparent to permit the supposition of a
+trifling postcript. The inference, then, must be that she had arrived at
+a not uncommon stage of religious agitation, often preliminary to
+conversion, a stage which he knew to be frequently of intense suffering
+to the neophyte, though satisfactory to pious observers, who were
+inclined to see in the lowest depths of misery the sure precursor of the
+highest joy. He had, himself, at an unusually early age, passed through
+a similar experience, and though that period of anguish was so far
+behind him that he could not recall its terrors, he knew that they had
+been very dreadful, and that his parents, to whom he had been as the
+apple of their eye, had been correspondingly complacent. There was, in
+these days, less of the agonized form of religious experience, but he
+could easily understand that it might happen to Natalie, who, in
+religion, was still but a babe.</p>
+
+<p>The only way to deal with the matter was the way in which it had been
+treated in his own case. There must be no slurring of the truth. He
+would disdain that course in private as much as he had disdained it in
+public. Hampton might shrink from disclosure of eternal verity; he would
+not.</p>
+
+<p>Wherefore, he sent to Natalie his pamphlet, entitled, "Dr. Burley's True
+Meaning," not sorry that she should see how clearly and uncompromisingly
+he could state matters which others had been willing to obscure. The
+true meaning of the Confession, and, therefore, of the Bible, and,
+therefore, of the learned biblical scholar whose text Leonard
+illuminated, was that the majority of mankind was on the way to a hell,
+eternal, and of torture inconceivable.</p>
+
+<p>The pamphlet was relentless, as was proper; but in his accompanying
+letter to his wife Leonard was very tender. He showed her that there was
+but one course to pursue in the face of indisputable truth, and that was
+resignation to the will of heaven. Weak humanity might grieve over God's
+will; such sorrow was certainly pardonable by man, but was nevertheless
+rebellion; and, before complete reconciliation to God could be assumed,
+must be dismissed from the heart. Leaving religion, he proceeded to tell
+his wife that his longing for her was growing absolutely insupportable,
+and he was much more fervid in his petition that she hasten her return
+home than he had been in his doctrinal expositions. He dispatched his
+letter, and returned to his former avocations, but with little spirit;
+he longed for Natalie, and had no room for other than the thoughts that
+accompanied his longing. In a few days he was able to start for home,
+Natalie having, in a very short letter, in which she made no comment on
+the one he had last written, announced her arrival in Hampton by a train
+due there a few minutes later than the one from New York by which he
+traveled, and when he finally alighted at the station, he was tremulous
+with anticipation, and his disappointment was proportionate when the
+Newport train arrived with none of the expected travelers.</p>
+
+<p>There was nothing to do but to bear a revulsion of feeling, which was
+actually painful. He walked across the Square to his home, and found the
+maids with everything prepared for his arrival, and with a letter from
+Natalie which informed him that she would be in Hampton on the
+following morning.</p>
+
+<p>He went early to bed, discontented and fretful. He slept badly, and in
+the night got up and wandered restlessly about, and in his wanderings
+made a discovery which might have remained unnoticed had the fancies
+which vexed his repose been of a different character.</p>
+
+<p>After the birth of her child, Natalie had occupied a room separate from
+her husband's, in order that the latter, whose literary labors were
+exacting, should not be disturbed. In his prowling Leonard discovered
+evidences that this arrangement was to be continued, and as he stood in
+the gaslight considering the tokens whereby he inferred that one room
+was reserved for masculine, the other for feminine occupancy, he
+mentally pronounced the arrangement unsatisfactory, and experienced a
+feeling of vexation amounting to resentment.</p>
+
+<p>But resentment gave way when, next morning, having seen Mrs. Joe and
+Paula drive away to Stormpoint, and having followed Natalie to the room
+which he had inspected the night before with dissatisfaction, he once
+more held her in his arms. The light that gleamed from her eyes, the
+roseate hue upon her feverish cheeks, the rich red lips upon which he
+pressed his own hungrily&mdash;the beautiful reality, fairer than the fairest
+vision of his hours of longing, banished every thought but one.</p>
+
+<p>He held her long in a close embrace. He was very happy, and when she had
+withdrawn from his arms he sat upon the edge of the bed telling her of
+his disappointment of the day before, and of his nocturnal prowlings,
+and laughingly advancing his objections to the sleeping arrangements she
+had ordered. Meanwhile, she said but little, being engaged in searching
+for something in her trunk. At length she found whatever she had been
+seeking. "Leonard," she said, "go down to the library. I must speak to
+you, but not here."</p>
+
+<p>The manner and the tone puzzled him&mdash;then he remembered. He sighed
+involuntarily. It was an inopportune moment to discuss conversion&mdash;but
+since she was in its throes&mdash;&mdash;He went downstairs; his face betrayed
+vexation.</p>
+
+<p>Soon she entered the room where he awaited her, seated in a big chair.
+She knelt before him, taking his hand in hers. "Leonard," she said, "I
+am sorry you don't like the arrangement of the bedrooms."</p>
+
+<p>Her solemnity had led him to expect something of greater importance than
+this, which was, however, decidedly a more welcome topic. "You know,
+dearest," he said, with a quizzical look, "as husband and wife&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Leonard! Leonard! We dare not be husband and wife."</p>
+
+<p>He stared at her in amazement. "What do you mean?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"I mean this," she answered, producing "Dr. Burley's True Meaning." "Oh,
+Leonard! How could the same man write that book and be a father?"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI.</h2>
+
+<h3>HE CLASPED HER LITHE BODY WITH A CLUTCH OF FURY.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Mrs. Joe had not obeyed Dr. Stanley's injunction, to burn the "Call to
+the Careless," but had studied that delectable composition sufficiently
+to compel her to exonerate the doctor from her suspicion, that he had
+invented much of the matter, which he had, in fact, read from the text
+before him.</p>
+
+<p>Her researches had not been without an object. It is, perhaps,
+unnecessary to point out that this lady's conscience was sufficiently
+elastic for ordinary purposes, even for ordinary political purposes, and
+it might have with stood the assaults made upon it by her investigation,
+had she been of the usual sex of politicians. She could go far in the
+interests of her son, but long ago she had borne another child, whose
+smile as it faded in death had ever been, at odd moments, before her,
+and constantly before her during her wanderings in fields theological,
+and she had but recently seen a woman crazed by contemplation of her
+baby in hell. When she had learned, by means of her studies, that a
+great ecclesiastical body still dooms the vast majority of those born of
+woman to everlasting woe, it came upon her like a blow in the face that,
+in order to see her son in the legislature, she had aided in
+promulgating the diabolical creed which, in the face of nineteen
+centuries of Christianity, is still waved aloft as the Standard of a
+Christian Church.</p>
+
+<p>Upon the first shock of this knowledge she followed the inevitable
+course of the conscience-stricken, and proceeded to argue with the
+inward monitor. "Nobody believes that now," she insisted; "the actual
+belief has been modified to accord with common sense. No Christian can
+admit that God is a demon, and no Christian can teach impossible
+falsehood." In answer to which, Conscience pointed to the title-page,
+which proclaimed the Confession to be the "Standard of the Presbyterian
+Church in the United States of America.'" She resolved to seek
+enlightenment at the acknowledged head of human wisdom in Hampton, and
+called for the purpose on the great Dr. Burley himself. Him she
+encountered as he was emerging from his front door. "Does Hampton
+actually uphold the Westminster Confession?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, my dear madam, so does Brigston."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not interested in Brigston. I am in Hampton."</p>
+
+<p>"And we are all glad that it is so. But, I see&mdash;I've always been afraid
+of it; you are going to try and get us all over to St. Perpetua, ha!
+ha!"</p>
+
+<p>"And does Hampton really believe&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"Only what is true. I must be off to my lecture now; we must have it out
+some other time. How's the Bishop? Fine fellow; wish we had him.
+Good-bye; Mrs. Burley will be <i>delighted to</i> see you," and the doctor
+waved the lady into the house and made his escape.</p>
+
+<p>Having no desire to call upon Mrs. Burley, the lady of Stormpoint
+remained in the vestibule only long enough for the gentleman to get
+away; she then descended the steps and was about to enter her carriage,
+when she was accosted by Dr. Stanley, who, after the usual salutations,
+asked her if she had seen Leonard recently.</p>
+
+<p>"I am about to call on him now&mdash;on unpleasant business."</p>
+
+<p>"That's a pity. You'll wish you had stayed at home. I have just left
+him; he's as cross as three sticks, which I suppose are crosser than the
+proverbial two."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose because the newspapers are still nagging him."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps; yet if you could manage a confidential talk with Mrs. Leonard,
+it might be a good thing."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! You've noticed that there's domestic trouble? I have suspected it.
+Why was he willing to stay away from Newport? Why was his wife reluctant
+to come home?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you can find out. Doctors can't ask indiscreet questions more
+than other people."</p>
+
+<p>"And you think I can, or will?" In answer to which the physician merely
+shrugged his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>The lady drove away, her distaste for the task before her not diminished
+by the encounter. She was quite sure that the physician would not have
+made the allusions, which had fallen from him, unless he believed that
+the domestic status in the Morley mansion was of grave significance.
+Which, in fact, it was; a dark shadow loomed, ever larger, in the old
+house.</p>
+
+<p>Leonard was very unhappy. Natalie's ignorance, in respect to his
+longings, her utter absence of sympathy; these formed the side of the
+shadow visible to him. He was irritable, at times harsh; but more deadly
+in its possible results was a sullen resentment, so deep that its
+ferocity and strength were unsuspected by himself. He was gazing moodily
+out of the library window when Mrs. Joe's equipage stopped at the door,
+and in another moment the lady was ushered in.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" he asked shortly. His manner was divested of its usual
+graces. He looked moodily at the floor.</p>
+
+<p>"Only a matter of business. Leonard, have you informed the Hampton
+people of the gift of which I spoke to you?"</p>
+
+<p>"It has been mentioned."</p>
+
+<p>"Leonard, I ought not to give it."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't mean you have met with serious losses?" he exclaimed,
+impressed by her manner.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no! But my views have changed; that is, I have made discoveries.
+Will it annoy you, personally, if the gift is not made?"</p>
+
+<p>"I shall regret it; but nobody will blame me, if that's what you mean."</p>
+
+<p>She was relieved. Still, it was painful to withhold a promised gift,
+especially painful to deprive him just now of the credit of being her
+almoner. "I wish you to take this," she said, handing him a cheque. "Let
+it go to the poor of the town, the hospital, the blind asylum&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He took the slip of paper she held out to him. He was startled by the
+amount. "Mrs. Joe&mdash;&mdash;" he commenced.</p>
+
+<p>"We can arrange as to details," she interrupted. "Oblige me by taking it
+now."</p>
+
+<p>He saw that she was somewhat agitated, and knew that she feared that the
+withdrawal of the gift to the Seminary might have wounded him. This was
+her way of curing such wounds. It would be ungracious to refuse the
+cheque, yet even as he looked at it, a strange foreboding was upon him.</p>
+
+<p>He sat down saying he would prefer to give her a receipt as trustee. "As
+you say, we must arrange as to details. Meanwhile, I suggest a portion
+of the sum for the Missionary Fund&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Not one penny of it," she answered with energy.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you object to the conversion of the heathen?" he asked surprised.</p>
+
+<p>"I do," was her emphatic answer. "Leave them alone. I suppose there are
+among them some that look with hope beyond the grave. I will not be an
+instrument to destroy that hope."</p>
+
+<p>He jumped at once to the conclusion that she had been reading some of
+the frothy and ill-considered articles of the secular press in regard to
+the Hampton-Brigston controversy, and again the suspicion arose in his
+mind that Natalie was influenced by the wretched diatribes of the
+newspapers.</p>
+
+<p>"I should fail in my duty as a Christian, Mrs. Joe," he said coldly, "if
+I made no effort to disabuse your mind of prejudice. Your capacity to
+aid a noble cause is so great&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"God knows," she interrupted earnestly, "I desire to use that capacity
+for good. I have done grievous harm hitherto."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not understand."</p>
+
+<p>"Leonard, look at this. It is a fair statement. I know it because I have
+tested every line of it in the Seminary Library. Can I give money to
+bring tidings of their eternal damnation to the heathen? They are
+happier without such knowledge."</p>
+
+<p>He took from her hand a cutting from a newspaper. It was an attack on
+his theology: "As a mitigation of the misery which flows from the
+Westminster Confession," wrote the journalist, "probation after death
+has been suggested by weaklings. We know how that suggestion has been
+received. In June, 1893, the General Assembly of the Church convicted
+Dr. Briggs, its author, of heresy, and stigmatized sanctification after
+death as 'in direct conflict with the plain teachings of the Divine
+Word, and the utterances of the Standards of our Church'; a deliverance
+which consigns to hell myriads of Jews, Mohammedans and honest doubters
+of Christendom&mdash;all to be added to the number of heathen in hell.
+Concerning these last, various computations have been made by
+theologians of a mathematical turn; the American Board estimates that
+five hundred millions go to hell every thirty years, or as Dr. Skinner
+has it, thirty-seven thousand millions since the Christian era. Dr.
+Hodge states that none escape. The last-named learned commentator on the
+Confession of Faith is even hopeless as to Christian infants, concerning
+whom he says, 'It is certainly revealed that none, either adult or
+infant, are saved, except by special election,' and that it is not
+'positively revealed that all infants are elect.'"</p>
+
+<p>The article proceeded to argue that, if all this were true (which the
+writer denied), to impart the knowledge to the heathen would be cruel,
+and that if it were not true, so much the less should lives and money be
+spent in the dissemination of false views of God's mercy and justice.</p>
+
+<p>"Beyond the fact that the writer is thoroughly illogical, slipshod and
+evidently malicious, there is no fault to be found with his statements,"
+observed Leonard, as he returned the cutting to the lady.</p>
+
+<p>"Leonard, my conscience will not permit me to disseminate a faith which
+knows no mercy."</p>
+
+<p>He respected Mrs. Joe; he could even sympathize with her views, though,
+regarding her as a child in doctrine, he did not think it worth while to
+attempt to explain to her the enlightening and consolatory effect of the
+"high mysteries," which are to be handled "with especial care." "Let the
+matter rest awhile," he said. "I will arrange as to the hospital and for
+a donation to the blind asylum. We can agree as to the distribution of
+the rest of the fund later. You will not always be so hard on Hampton.
+Theology is not learned in a day, Mrs. Joe, and, you will excuse me for
+saying it, you have not given as much thought to the matter as some
+others."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not foolish enough to pretend to a knowledge of theology. That
+would be as absurd as the exhibition presented by men who pass years in
+striving to reconcile eternal damnation and common justice." Having
+fired this shot, the lady took her departure.</p>
+
+<p>The door had scarce closed upon her when Leonard called Natalie. An
+impression, revived by his visitor and her newspaper cutting, that his
+wife's attitude had its inspiration in the empty criticisms of the
+press, had aroused his anger. He resolved that the present mode of
+living should terminate. He had rights, God-given, as well as by the
+laws of men; he would enforce them if he must.</p>
+
+<p>In their intercourse recently, Leonard had refrained from harshness, but
+he had been unable to conceal a resentment, hourly growing in strength;
+his manner had been hard and sullen. Without exhibiting actual
+discourtesy he had shown plainly enough that he preferred to be alone,
+and, except when it was inevitable, husband and wife had hardly met or
+spoken together for days.</p>
+
+<p>Hence, when Natalie heard him call, a flush, born partly of
+apprehension, partly of hope, suffused her cheek. She came toward him,
+smiling and rosy, a vision of radiant loveliness. The pleading
+tenderness of her eyes was answered by the wolfish gleam of a gaze that
+arrested her steps. He seized her in his arms, clasping the lithe body
+in a clutch of fury, kissing her red lips and clinging to their
+sweetness with a ferocity that terrified her. In this shameful embrace
+they wrestled a moment until the man's violence enfeebled himself. She
+broke from him, standing before him an image of outraged modesty,
+panting, indignant and bewildered.</p>
+
+<p>"Leonard!"</p>
+
+<p>He sank into a chair and covered his face with his hands. His own
+self-respect was shocked. He was humiliated, and his shame increased his
+resentment.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" she asked, placing a trembling hand on his shoulder, and
+noting that he shuddered at the touch.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" he repeated. For a moment a fury to strike her possessed
+him. By an effort he calmed himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Natalie," he said, in a slow, measured tone, "do you regard me as your
+husband?"</p>
+
+<p>"You know I do, Leonard."</p>
+
+<p>He sighed despairingly. How was he to bring a knowledge of facts to
+this woman incapable of comprehending them, or what they signified for
+him?</p>
+
+<p>"Natalie," he said, and now he took her hand in his, noting its cool
+freshness again his own hot palm. "We cannot live thus; we are married.
+We must be husband and wife."</p>
+
+<p>"You dare not create victims of hell," she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>"Natalie, you would impiously abrogate God's holy ordinance. Marriage is
+enjoined by Scripture. Sin of the most heinous character is born of
+neglect of this ordinance of God."</p>
+
+<p>"Leonard, Leonard," she cried, "you can have no assurance that your
+children will be saved. Only the elect."</p>
+
+<p>"All, dying in infancy are elect," he answered impatiently. "That is the
+universal belief of to-day."</p>
+
+<p>She grew very white as she looked at him; her eyes were big with horror.
+"Do you mean," she asked hoarsely, "that we should murder our babies?"</p>
+
+<p>"Murder!" he exclaimed, amazed.</p>
+
+<p>"Since only infants are certainly saved&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He burst into a discordant laugh. "Natalie," he said, "as a reasoner you
+would do credit to Brigston."</p>
+
+<p>"I can see no other way," she said after a pause. "My reasoning may be
+defective, but you do not show me its defects. Surely you believe the
+Confession and the catechisms?"</p>
+
+<p>"Every line of either," he answered defiantly and in anger. Had he not
+labored night and day for a year past to demonstrate the truth of the
+"Standards"?</p>
+
+<p>"Then," she answered sadly, "you have no right to become a father.
+Fathers and mothers are instruments of the devil. According to your
+belief, no sin can compare with the sin of bringing forth a creature so
+offensive to God that it must suffer eternal punishment. You may believe
+that you and I are both to dwell together in hell. If that be our fate
+we must submit. But our children, Leonard! Shall we earn their hatred in
+life, and watch their torments in unquenchable fires?"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you compare yourself and me, and children born of us, to the
+depraved mass of humanity? Have you no assurance of God's gracious
+mercy?"</p>
+
+<p>"God's gracious mercy!" she repeated. "God's gracious mercy!"</p>
+
+<p>"Natalie," he said, making a great effort to speak calmly. "You who but
+a short time since had no religion, surely you will concede that I know
+something of that which has been the study of my life. I tell you that
+your reasoning is frantic nonsense; it would be blasphemous if it were
+not for your ignorance."</p>
+
+<p>"You believe the Confession true&mdash;every line. I have studied it; I have
+studied your book. Prior to that I had spent a whole day, in this very
+room, reading&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He laughed, but as before there was no mirth in the laugh. "A whole
+day," he said, "and this profound research enables you to contend with
+me in a science that I have studied all my life."</p>
+
+<p>"On that day," she answered, shuddering, "the fires of hell blazed
+before my eyes and I heard the wails of damned souls. In a day much may
+be learned. If what I then saw be true&mdash;I do not know&mdash;you say it is;
+you say hell is&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And say it again," he interrupted. "If I had never known it before, I
+would know it now."</p>
+
+<p>"Then, Leonard, you must justify me. Since God cannot save the
+innocent&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"He punishes the guilty only."</p>
+
+<p>"Having himself decreed their guilt! In the face of that decree there is
+no human guilt. Even marriage, that most hideous of all crimes, does not
+merit endless suffering&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You insist that all are damned; you rave. Nobody asserts that all are
+damned."</p>
+
+<p>"'He hath chosen some to eternal life and foreordained the rest to
+dishonor and wrath.' Yet if there were but a single soul to suffer; if
+but one solitary creature of all the millions of men were doomed to
+dwell in hell forever&mdash;the knowledge that your child, Leonard, might be
+that lonely one&mdash;surely such knowledge&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He ground his teeth. She drew texts from the source he had declared to
+be the living truth. He had no answer; there was no answer.</p>
+
+<p>"Leave me," he whispered, in a tone that evidenced his fury better than
+a roar of rage. Again he hid his face in his hands. She often turned to
+look at him as she slowly withdrew, but he did not raise his head.</p>
+
+<p>He wrestled fiercely with his emotions and with the problem that fate
+had raised. At times rage consumed his soul, and his thoughts rioted in
+brutal instigation, which even then he feared, and of which he was
+ashamed. At moments he hated, at moments he loved, but hating or loving,
+the seductive charms of the woman swayed before his eyes, mocking him as
+the mirage mocks the fainting pilgrim. Hours passed and he remained in
+the same attitude, striving to estimate the situation correctly, so that
+he could evolve a remedy. He could not deny her reasoning; he would not
+give up his faith. His mind, rigid from the training to which it had
+been subjected, was incapable of readily admitting new theories; and his
+best nourished and most vigorous attribute was involved. Whether his
+integrity could be bent or not, it was certain that his vanity would not
+submit. No! He would not deny his faith. He would enforce his rights.</p>
+
+<p>But not without further effort at persuasion. He made a heroic and
+worthy resolve. He would be patient still, meanwhile using every gentle
+measure. He would enlist Mrs. Joe in his cause. She was a matron, shrewd
+and too well balanced to allow religious notions to carry her to
+fanatical extremes; and she did not hold his own views, apparently not
+even as to eternal punishment. Perhaps she would convince Natalie that
+there was no hell. It would be a lie, but better that his wife believe a
+lie than that hell reign in his house and in his bosom.</p>
+
+<p>At the dinner hour the maid handed her mistress a note. It ran thus:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"Dear Natalie&mdash;I have decided to leave home for a little time.
+I think we are better apart. If you will open your heart to
+Mrs. Joe she will explain that which you and I cannot discuss.
+I learn that you are in your own room, and think it better not
+to disturb you. Good-bye, for a little time. It may be that I
+shall not write.</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Leonard.</span>"</p></blockquote>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII.</h2>
+
+<h3>A PÆAN OF VICTORY HYMNED IN HELL.</h3>
+
+
+<p>On the day following that upon which Leonard and Natalie had last met in
+Leonard's study, there were two women in a room of a shabby New York
+house, evidently once a worthy residence, but now sadly fallen from that
+estate.</p>
+
+<p>One of the two, half dressed, with a good deal of tarnished lace
+decorating such clothing as she had on, sat on the bed in an easy
+attitude, careless as to the display of a handsome person. Dark,
+heavy-browed, her first youth past, her haggard face was redeemed by
+deep, soft eyes, that now, however, from beneath their long lashes,
+looked out upon the face of the other woman with suspicious wariness.</p>
+
+<p>This one, overfed, coarse, vile to look upon, with the face of a painted
+gargoyle, red and mottled, garishly dressed in a loose gown, stood with
+arms akimbo, her little eyes bent wickedly upon the woman on the bed.</p>
+
+<p>"Ten days' board," croaked the fat one. "Ten days."</p>
+
+<p>"Ten weeks, for all I care," was the reply.</p>
+
+<p>The fat creature wheezed and snorted; she half lifted her great red hand
+as if to administer a blow.</p>
+
+<p>"Try it," said the other, "and I'll stick this into you," holding
+threateningly the blade of a pair of scissors.</p>
+
+<p>The fat one recoiled; there was enough recklessness in the eyes of the
+woman with the scissors to justify the movement. "Now, now, Frenchy,"
+she remonstrated, "you won't be a fool. Possy bate, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Pas si bête</i>," laughed the other grimly. "Try it and see!"</p>
+
+<p>"You know," said the rubicund one, "this ain't white, Berthe. Whose
+fault is it if you've no money?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" exclaimed Berthe. "You think me of your kind. I'm a lady; I was a
+fool to come here."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure, you're a lady; and for that very reason ought to make a mint of
+money. I'll tell you what's the matter with you, Berthe&mdash;you're a mule.
+I swear," she exclaimed, suddenly conscious of wrong, "my boarders is
+the bane of my life. Mules&mdash;but there, nobody'd believe what I've
+borne."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Malheureuse!</i>" sneered Berthe.</p>
+
+<p>"I tell you, missy, girls don't talk that way to me!" exclaimed the
+red-gowned dame, perhaps suspecting unseemly profanity veiled in a
+foreign tongue.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want to talk any way to you. Get out," replied Berthe.</p>
+
+<p>"And the board bill?"</p>
+
+<p>"I've had nothing to eat for two days."</p>
+
+<p>"And won't have as long as you're a mule. If you have no money by this
+time to-morrow, out you go, and without your trunk; so Frenchy,"
+concluded the woman, changing her tone to persuasion, "be reasonable.
+You shall have dinner if you'll promise to go out afterward. Think it
+over," and she waddled off.</p>
+
+<p>Berthe lay back upon the pillow, her long arms stretched above her head,
+and thought it over.</p>
+
+<p>She had left Mrs. Leon long ago, and since then her steps had been
+downward. For awhile a nursery governess, which, being amply capable,
+she might have long remained had it not been for her eyes. She was not
+altogether conscious of the capacity of her eyes, and was long innocent
+of the knowledge of the strife and hatred they had wrought in the family
+in which she served. Maltreated by an infuriated mistress, she had
+avenged herself amply, living for months in luxury, and on the money and
+caresses legally belonging to the other. But she had never cared for her
+sinner, and he had been glad to creep back to that which he had
+dishonored, not forgiven, but accepted as a hard necessity. Her luxuries
+and her money were soon spent&mdash;as for the rest, it is a dark tale that
+she recalls, lying there majestic, with her long arms above her black
+head and her dark eyes brooding.</p>
+
+<p>The present was a problem. The move to this house was toward a deeper
+degradation than any she had known, and she recoiled from its demands.
+She knew its probable end, too. She was shrewd, dominant if she chose to
+be; in short, no fool. She could rise to prosperity and become like the
+gargoyle, but the prospect sickened her. All the inmates of the house
+were to her abhorrent, but the gargoyle was a loathsome, soulless,
+pitiless beast, only not a fool. The others were fools, and she knew,
+feeling the sparks of humanity within her, that she must even be a fool
+rather than a beast. And the end of the fool was misery, from which
+there was but one escape.</p>
+
+<p>She was hungry. It was true that, except as to some slices of bread,
+smuggled to her by soft-hearted ones, she had eaten nothing for two
+days. She had long ago pawned her articles of jewelry. Her clothes were
+in the clutch of the beast. She would have to apply to her for garments
+for the street. She must surrender.</p>
+
+<p>So she asked for her clothes and her dinner. The beast was gracious, but
+chary as to giving too many garments. The truth was, the beast hoped her
+boarder would not return. She had the trunk&mdash;she was sick of the mule.</p>
+
+<p>Berthe wandered toward the lower part of the city. Plainly dressed, her
+carriage dignified, she was not molested, nor did she cast her eyes upon
+any passer-by. She walked straight on, yet not rapidly, for there was no
+purpose in her walk. Useless to seek that man upon whose wife she had
+avenged herself; he had been hurried off to do penance in the country;
+even if he had returned, she knew nothing of his present abode.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Leon was a dweller in hotels, and at this season, not in town.
+Besides, Mrs. Leon could not be ignorant of what had been accomplished
+by the nursery governess she had herself recommended.</p>
+
+<p>She wished now, for in truth, as she walked on, terror of possible
+starvation began to haunt her, that she had carried out an often
+neglected impulse to write to a man she knew, and who she believed could
+help her. She would have done so before this, but the man's wife was a
+friend of Mrs. Leon. This recollection had prevented her addressing him.
+Yet she knew he would have helped her. He was young, he was kind. Ah! he
+was adorable.</p>
+
+<p>So she walked on, thinking of that adorable man, forgetting her fear of
+starvation. He had kissed her, or rather, and she smiled as she
+corrected herself, she had kissed him. He had been helpless. The
+innocent!</p>
+
+<p>By this time she was in Fourteenth Street. A man seeing the smile upon
+her lips, stood in her path and addressed her. She moved aside and
+walked on; the smile had been born of a memory sweet to her. The man
+looked after her, astonished at the majestic ignoring of himself.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly the woman stopped, as if struck. Then she started, walking
+quickly, and entered a brilliantly lighted resort.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>Leonard had passed a sleepless night in the train. In New York he went
+to a hotel which he had never before frequented. He desired to be alone.
+He had left home to think, not to seek acquaintance or distraction.</p>
+
+<p>And he thought, walking the streets of the great city until he was
+footsore, and the more he thought, the less capable was he of reasoning,
+the more weary he grew of thought; finally, striding onward in a dream
+of incoherent fancies, that were not thoughts, but impotent efforts of a
+tired brain. All day long there swayed before his eyes visions inspired
+by objects seen but not noted and most incongruous. The passing glance
+upon a billboard, gay with motley figures, gave birth to a picture of
+living damsels, languishing in postures of inviting loveliness. He saw
+no stony streets, no squalid scenes, but wandered in a Moslem heaven in
+whose crystal streams Naiads bathed fair round limbs or sported in
+wanton frolic in silvery cascades, anon decking with lilies the roseate
+beauties of their queen. He took no heed of time or place, pacing street
+after street, along the wharves, seeing neither ship nor dray; in the
+Hebrew crowd of the East Side, noting nothing of the soft-eyed men with
+dirty beards, nor the women wearing wigs of jute, nor the children
+dancing in the streets to hand-organs, nor any of the sights of that
+crowded foreign city, full of strange interest. Of the things before his
+eyes he saw nothing; nor could he, being entranced by raptures which had
+tried the souls of saints a thousand years ago!</p>
+
+<p>At ten o'clock at night, having eaten nothing since an early and
+neglected breakfast, he stood in the street, conscious that he must eat
+or faint. He entered a brilliantly lighted room where there were tables,
+but which was nearly empty.</p>
+
+<p>Back of the room he saw another filled with people, decked with palms
+and artificial grottoes. He entered and sat down at the first unoccupied
+table.</p>
+
+<p>"Bring me a sandwich," he said to the waiter, "and a drink."</p>
+
+<p>The sandwich was brought and the drink. The latter Leonard supposed was
+wine. He remembered that he had scruples against wine-drinking; had, in
+fact, never tasted wine. He was too tired to care much for scruples, and
+besides, he was faint, and even his scruples permitted wine in case of
+illness. He swallowed the liquor, which was whiskey, at one gulp, and
+commenced to eat ravenously.</p>
+
+<p>He ordered another sandwich and another drink, which was brought, this
+time with a carafe of water in addition. He drank greedily of the water,
+reserving his liquor, and, as ravenously as before, consumed his second
+sandwich.</p>
+
+<p>Then he looked about him with more interest in his surroundings than he
+had known during all that day. He felt comfortable, happy in fact. He
+stretched out his legs and sipped his liquor, this time noting the
+strength of the beverage, which made him cough and brought the tears to
+his eyes, causing a woman to smile slyly. He smiled in return, then
+looked quickly away, abashed at his own temerity in thus answering the
+involuntary expression of a strange lady. This, as he looked about him,
+he thought must be one of those German beer-gardens he had heard about,
+but in this country had never seen. Evidently the people did not bring
+their children. That was well. Beer-drinking was a bad example for
+children. The women looked tired, he thought, though some were very
+rosy, remarkably so, and all were tawdry. The men were not a
+nice-looking set, though there were exceptions. Many were not much more
+than boys, and these affected brilliant, if somewhat dirty, neckwear.
+There were things about this place that offended him; principally, the
+tone of the men. They lolled a good deal and smoked in the women's
+faces; that was German, he supposed. The women, of whom a number were
+alone, were better behaved. He noticed a waiter order one to leave the
+place; that was singular, especially as she had slunk in very quietly
+and had seemed very humble. Suddenly the great orchestrion commenced to
+squeal and bang and clash, and soon the heads of the people were
+strangely bobbing, keeping time; now the strains grew soft and
+plaintive; a profound sadness crept over him as he listened to what
+seemed the requiem of a dying soul. He felt the tears rising in his
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>For a long time he had been eagerly watched by a woman. Berthe could not
+be sure if this were indeed the man she knew. What could he be doing
+here? Half hidden behind a curtain which draped a huge column, she
+watched the heaving breast of the man. Suddenly, she saw his head fall
+forward, smashing a tumbler, and a cry of agony broke from him.
+"Natalie, Natalie!"</p>
+
+<p>It might have been the last despairing wail of the soul doomed
+thenceforward to darkness, whose requiem he had heard. To the obscene
+observers and the superintendent of the place it was the cry of a
+drunken man, who had no business there.</p>
+
+<p>There was no hubbub. The habitués of the place comprehended that nothing
+of that sort was allowed. The man was quickly hustled into the front
+room by the manager.</p>
+
+<p>"Get his hat," said this personage to a waiter. "Has he paid his bill?"
+he questioned as the man brought the hat.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, except the broken glass."</p>
+
+<p>"Damn the glass!" replied the manager, who desired to get rid of the
+drunkard. "Come, young fellow, steady on your pins now and be off."</p>
+
+<p>A woman slipped her arm under Leonard's. "I will take care of him," she
+said.</p>
+
+<p>The manager looked at the pair as they made their way toward the street.
+"Do you know her?" he asked of an employee who had witnessed the
+departure.</p>
+
+<p>"She's not a regular, sure."</p>
+
+<p>"Nor he. Well, it's not our affair," and the manager returned to his
+duties.</p>
+
+<p>The two wandered off, the man's unsteady steps supported tenderly by the
+woman. When the sun rose, his head rested on her bosom and her lips
+hovered lovingly above his own, and the hum of the waking city, borne to
+his ears, may, to him, have been the distant harmony of a pæan of
+victory hymned in hell.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>A DELECTABLE DISCUSSION, IN WHICH A SHAKSPERIAN MATRON IS ROUTED.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Natalie Claghorn had always nourished a sentiment, which with many is a
+conviction, with most a hope, that man is something more than the futile
+hero of a sorry comedy&mdash;not made to live merely that he may die. Hence,
+religion had been a need of her being, and, though unconsciously, she
+had developed a creed of her own, vague, no doubt, from the positive
+standpoint, but one which excluded those essential elements of the faith
+of her husband, Hell and the Devil; grim inventions these which, while
+imbibing wisdom at the paternal knee, she had learned were mere memories
+of ancient Oriental mythologies. This view, in so far as she had given
+the matter any thought, she had supposed the view commonly held, and
+universally held among the cultured. Recently, indeed, there had been a
+moment in which even with her bodily eyes she had, as she had then
+believed, beheld the terrors and the torments of the damned; but as many
+men and women, who believe not in ghosts, have nevertheless seen these
+dwellers of the shades, and yet in less receptive phases of the mind
+have been able to dismiss their visitants to the shadows from which they
+were evoked, so Natalie had been able to discard belief in the reality
+of her vision. Nevertheless, though incredulous, he who has seen a ghost
+remains impressed, and the memory of her experience naturally recurred
+with her theological studies, serving to emphasize the horrible, rather
+than the absurd, aspect of her acquirements.</p>
+
+<p>Her desire to know had been honest, and she imputed honesty to others;
+hence, when Leonard, with pen and voice, asseverated his belief in a
+creed which must render paternity impossible to any being with a
+conscience, she had been confounded by the attitude he presented. She
+was not aware that between her husband and herself the sources of
+sympathy had always been shallow, and she was quite as ignorant of
+theological frenzy as she was of the knowledge of masculine passion. She
+had loved him; and she had loved Mrs. Joe, Paula, the Marquise, her maid
+Berthe; in fact, she had loved, and still loved, humanity, as far as she
+knew it, and it was thus that she had loved her husband, though,
+doubtless, in his case, this gentle flame had burned with more intensity
+than in others.</p>
+
+<p>Though grieved that Leonard had left her without saying good-bye, yet
+she felt that he had acted wisely, in that he had given her time to
+think without the disturbing sense of his presence in his repellant
+mood. And during this period an incident occurred which aided her in
+finding the only solution of the problems which vexed her.</p>
+
+<p>It was not to be expected of the Hampton matrons that they continue
+their tolerant attitude, with regard to Mrs. Leonard Claghorn. Her
+continued languid health after the birth of her child, the subsequent
+bereavement and absence, these had afforded an excuse for neglect; but
+now there was solicitude, and in a certain circle of dames, which met
+every fortnight to discuss Shakspere, but whereat other subjects, as
+possessing more of novelty, were occasionally considered, some rather
+severe strictures were made, in reference to Professor Claghorn's
+apparent inability to convert his wife&mdash;he who had so audaciously, if
+not successfully, coped with Brigston.</p>
+
+<p>"Brilliancy is less effective than earnestness," opined Mrs. Waring,
+wife of Professor Waring, whose forte was Hebrew, and who was noted for
+great erudition, a large family and a feeble intellect.</p>
+
+<p>"In the long run, no doubt," assented Mrs. Professor Flint. "But surely,
+she is not really unconverted!"</p>
+
+<p>"She certainly hides her light. There are times&mdash;I hope I am not
+uncharitable&mdash;when I wonder, suppose she were a Jesuit!"</p>
+
+<p>"Awful! She's French; her mother was noble&mdash;of the old nobility&mdash;and the
+old nobility are all Jesuits."</p>
+
+<p>"And a Jesuit will stick at nothing in the way of deception. It's a
+terrible possibility!"</p>
+
+<p>Natalie found apologists, notably Mrs. Tremaine, who maintained that
+there were no female Jesuits, and who defended the absent, partly
+because she was a spirited and generous woman, partly because, at this
+particular period, she experienced an unusually distinct impression of
+her own importance by reason of an acknowledged claim to the admiration
+of the other Shaksperians. Even Mrs. Waring, the mother of ten, was
+inclined to look with indulgence, if not with envy, upon this champion,
+though she whispered to Mrs. Flint that "after a half dozen, Mary
+Tremaine would change her note."</p>
+
+<p>However that may be, Mrs. Tremaine's note remained on this occasion
+triumphant, and she glowed with victory, and also with good intentions;
+for she resolved to warn Natalie that the gossips were preparing for a
+feast, "and," said the lady to herself, "it must be stopped; never allow
+a tiger a taste of blood," which mental exclamation clearly indicates
+the exaltation of the lady's spirit.</p>
+
+<p>In this spirit, as soon as the Shaksperian séance was over, she started
+for the Morley mansion, full of excellent intentions and the proud
+possessor of a secret already known to the wives of all the professors
+of the Seminary, except Natalie; and which, if confided to the latter,
+would indicate that friendly feeling by which she was really actuated,
+and thus pave the way to the warning she wished to give. She was also
+impelled by the pardonable desire to further impart the information
+already widely diffused; and which, in fact, could not remain much
+longer a secret, unless the complacent lady decided on complete
+seclusion for some months.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said, "I suppose it will be noticeable soon. Professor
+Tremaine is so proud; he actually struts. He hopes for a boy."</p>
+
+<p>"Unfortunate woman!" exclaimed Natalie. "How can you smile?"</p>
+
+<p>"Dear Mrs. Claghorn, I forgot your own recent loss. Believe me,
+time&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But, have I understood? You hope for a baby&mdash;you a Christian wife?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why not I&mdash;a Christian wife, as you say?" was the answer of the
+visitor, who was both shocked and puzzled by the expression of her
+hostess.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not understand," exclaimed Natalie hopelessly; then suddenly: "How
+can you dare? Have you no compassion, no fear? You can smile, believing
+that an awful calamity hangs over you!"</p>
+
+<p>"Awful calamity!" echoed the bewildered visitor, perhaps a little
+alarmed by the speaker's energy.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it not? Have I understood aright? Are you going to have a baby?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have said so. Why the fact should affect you so strangely is a
+mystery to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you believe this book?" and Natalie seized the well-known volume
+with its blue cover.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, I believe the Confession."</p>
+
+<p>"And your husband?"</p>
+
+<p>"Does he not teach it?"</p>
+
+<p>"And believing that this book is true, knowing that the furnaces of hell
+are choked with sinners&mdash;knowing this, you and your husband welcome the
+birth of a human being! God help me, and you, Mrs. Tremaine, forgive me,
+but I cannot understand these things. Why! you believe that your baby
+may be damned!"</p>
+
+<p>"How dare you say such things? My child will not be damned. Ah! You poor
+woman, I see. You have brooded over your own baby's death, and have been
+dwelling on horrors. I have heard of such cases. Dear Mrs. Claghorn,
+dismiss such dreadful folly from your mind. Babies are not damned;
+nobody has believed that for years."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>I</i> do not fear for my child, nor for yours. But you&mdash;you cannot be
+sure he will die. He may grow up&mdash;what then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Then he must take his chance," said the would-be mother, though her
+face grew white. "We must all trust in God's grace."</p>
+
+<p>"But he lends His grace to his Elect only. Unless your infant was chosen
+from before creation, he <i>must</i> be damned. You say this book is true,
+and yet you dare to have a child who may burn in hell! How can you
+commit such wickedness?" In her energy Natalie had arisen, and now stood
+before the unhappy matron in what to her seemed a threatening attitude.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I&mdash;do not comprehend," she faltered. "You have no right to speak
+thus to me."</p>
+
+<p>"No right! Have I not the right of humanity, the right of a
+child-bearing woman?"</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I had some excuse, I did not know. But you knew&mdash;and yet you dared!"</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't," whimpered the lady. "It was the Professor&mdash;it was God's
+work. You talk horribly."</p>
+
+<p>"God's work! And you lend yourself to God's work! You could have
+died&mdash;anything, rather than be an instrument of wickedness in God's
+hands!"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Tremaine breathed a great sigh of relief when she found herself
+safely on the outside of the Morley mansion. She sat for awhile on a
+bench in the Square, and when she had in part recovered her equanimity,
+she went slowly homeward, pondering over the difficulties which present
+themselves to those who try to do good in secret.</p>
+
+<p>Yet she had done good; for when Natalie beheld this matron in all the
+pride and joy of approaching maternity, she saw in the spectacle a
+living denial of the frightful dogma which, if believed, must have
+turned the woman's triumph to despair. The orthodox lady served to
+demonstrate the fact that the upholders of hell do not believe in hell;
+for the conclusion to which Natalie had arrived was sound: The woman
+that believes in hell dare not bear a child.</p>
+
+<p>Leonard's continuing absence afforded time for contemplation of this
+discovery and its consequences; among others the gradual conviction
+which subjected Leonard, with thousands of others, to the accusation of
+maintaining palpable falsehood as the living truth. No other conclusion
+was possible in the face of the fact that humanity can judge only by the
+aid of human faculties, and that these must, perforce, pronounce eternal
+punishment incompatible with justice, and preordination to everlasting
+misery as impossible to a God of mercy. Her training made it difficult
+for her to understand the palliation of the offense of those who
+maintained the paradoxes which denied their actions. She was not aware
+that the minds of such as Leonard had, from infancy, been receptacles
+into which had been emptied all the follies bred from the meditations of
+those who profess the mission of being interpreters of Omniscience; nor
+could she fairly estimate the partisan rage which carried such men,
+engaged in controversy, even beyond their convictions. She did, however,
+gather some comprehension of these extenuating forces from the further
+researches offered by Leonard's table, on which were strewn numerous
+pamphlets referring to the late theological war. The tone of rancor
+which pervaded the effusions of the religious antagonists was repellant,
+but she was shrewd enough to see in so much sound and fury evidences of
+weakness; and when she came to the theologian who lauded the "beautiful
+faith" of that Christian father who demolished his pagan adversary with
+the words, "I believe, <i>because</i> it is impossible," she closed the book,
+and thenceforth avoided further contemplation of the high mysteries of
+theology.</p>
+
+<p>She could not but condemn Leonard, though she would not dwell upon the
+thought. To her, as to Dr. Stanley, belief in the impossible was
+impossible, and, therefore, pretense of such belief dishonest; yet,
+since these pretenders were not otherwise dishonest, there must be some
+ground for their attitude, which to her must remain a mystery, but which
+ought to cause her to hesitate in judging. So, she would not blame
+Leonard; she perceived now, that her own conduct merited reproach. She
+was ignorant of her own cruelty and her own absurdity, and would have
+resented those terms as applied to her attitude; but she acknowledged
+with sorrow that she had not been kind, and for her unkindness she
+craved forgiveness.</p>
+
+<p>Very early one morning she started to walk to the cemetery, going by way
+of the shore, and glorying in the grandeur of the ocean and the breeze
+that came, health-laden, from its bosom. She stood and looked upon the
+broad expanse of blue, recalling the day when Leonard had plunged into
+the raging waters to rescue the boy. That effort had been in vain, as to
+its intended object, but had it never been made she would not be walking
+here a wife. She had loved him before, but not with a love that would
+have urged her to grant him the boon of kisses; but, fresh from that
+brave deed he was a hero, had taken the hero's meed from her lips, and
+in that act had sealed the mastery which his courage had won. She gazed
+long upon the waters, listening to the surge and noting the glint of the
+sun, tinting with rose the billows rolling toward her. She sighed and,
+pressing her lips together, turned her back upon the waves and hurried
+on. It was as though she had resolved not to see some fair vision
+suggested by the rose-tint in the feathery edging of the billows.</p>
+
+<p>When she entered the beautiful cemetery the birds were chirping in the
+trees, only their joyous trills breaking the silence of the city of the
+dead. She sat down beside the grave of her boy.</p>
+
+<p>And here, recalling her recent thoughts and her condemnation of others
+who were dishonest in their attitude toward God, she saw the need of
+honesty for herself in all things. If there were facts in her life which
+she had been willing to ignore, she must look them in the face and deal
+with them as best she might, being honest always. If, in marrying
+Leonard, she had striven to escape the longing for a love denied her,
+and in so doing had cheated her husband, she must admit her fault and
+resolve to make every reparation in her power. If she had chosen to
+believe that she had craved religion, and in her husband had seen its
+embodiment, while in truth she had craved an earthly love, and had in
+marriage weakly sought refuge from her shame, she must even admit her
+fault and do what might be in her power to avert its consequences. Not
+in the futile attempt to deny hearing to her conscience, to murder her
+reason, but in every wifely allegiance. Thus far she had wofully failed
+in such allegiance. Even before the last sad breach between her husband
+and herself she had allowed estrangement to come between them, and had
+so exclusively devoted herself to her child that Leonard had been
+secondary. It was true that she had not consciously intended this, but
+she had been willing that it be so. Her consciousness of wrong warmed
+her heart toward her absent husband, and filled it with longing to
+reconsecrate herself to him. He would surely come to-day! As she sped
+homeward she was more and more persuaded of it, and, finally, believed
+that on her arrival she would find him waiting for her. As she neared
+the house she trembled with expectation; she longed to clasp her arms
+about his neck and falter her prayer for pardon, and assure him of her
+love. There should be no shadows between them in future. She had dared
+to look truth in the face, and, lo! it was no longer truth. All the
+foolish, sinful longings of the past, persistent because she had refused
+to recognize them, had been dissipated by the light of day. The present
+moment was to live forever. Henceforth, Leonard, and only he, should
+dwell in her heart of hearts.</p>
+
+<p>In her agitation she fumbled at the door-lock, then desisted, for from
+the hallway she heard the firm step of a man coming to the door. Her
+heart beat wildly; another moment and she would be forgiven.</p>
+
+<p>The door was suddenly opened. With a glad cry Natalie spread wide her
+own, and in the same instant was clasped in the arms of Mark Claghorn.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV.</h2>
+
+<h3>WHEN MANHOOD IS LOST WOMAN'S TIME IS COME.</h3>
+
+
+<p>In the misery of awakening to a consciousness of existing facts, Leonard
+could see no possibility of extrication from the bog of degradation into
+which he had fallen. With excellent intentions on the part of his
+pastors and masters, he had been trained to dishonest depreciation of
+his own strength, and he was now without confidence or courage. His days
+had been without guile, and the unaccustomed aspect of guilt overwhelmed
+him with hopeless terror. The precepts instilled from infancy thundered
+direful threats, dwelling lingeringly on the curses of Omnipotence; and
+in the moment of the acquirement of the dread knowledge that he had been
+self-deceived, that the Grace of God had not been his, that he, like
+other doomed and defrauded sinners, had mistaken those "common
+operations of the spirit," that even non-elect may have, for the
+effectual call addressed only to the few chosen from eternity, and which
+to all others is a monstrous mockery&mdash;in the moment of this awful
+revelation he felt all the suffocating horror of that which he had
+taught as truth: that for the weak there is no Father, no path but the
+path of evil.</p>
+
+<p>The woman looked upon the exhibition of misery thus presented with
+compassion tinged with scorn, yet with bewilderment. She had never seen
+a sinner like this before; but instinctively she felt that when manhood
+is lost woman's time has come.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Voyons, chéri</i>," she said, "what is it all about?" and she drew his
+head to her bosom.</p>
+
+<p>He grasped at the offered sympathy as a starving man may grasp a loaf.
+The picture he presented was not adorable, but there was truth in it,
+if, also, some unconscious comedy; and her compassion was not without
+sincerity, though his broken story was of less interest to her than the
+simplicity of the narrator. She felt that she had been fashioned fit
+for this man's needs; and while she soothed him, his spirits rose a
+little, and he experienced a sort of satisfaction that, since he had
+taken this direction, he had gone amazingly far. See, now, what Natalie
+had done!</p>
+
+<p>They rescued Berthe's clothes and left the boarding-house, and were soon
+quartered in a small French hotel, bathed and well dressed. The
+surroundings were cheerful; the lunch table, with its bright glassware
+and silver, white napery and bottle of champagne in its bucket of ice,
+was inviting; the woman was gay, yet still compassionate and tender.
+With the first glass of wine Leonard felt actually happy; and as he sat
+opposite the well-clad woman with the great dark eyes, now languid and
+inviting, now bright with challenge, and listened to the prattle, which
+women of her nation can make so engaging, he, looking back upon the past
+week, was enraptured by the contrast. Of such as she really was he had
+no perception; he could no more estimate her character than could the
+veriest college freshman, weary with knowledge of the world. Her
+brightness of intellect was apparent, and there was neither coarseness
+nor ignorance of amenities in her bearing. She had said to the mistress
+of the boarding-house that she was a "lady," and she fitted sufficiently
+the ordinary acceptation of a much-abused term. She told her story (with
+the essential suppressions and variations), and he saw in her one who
+had suffered from the injustice of the world. She admitted being in the
+last stress of poverty, and confessed to having suffered actual hunger,
+thanking him, with the first sheen of tears in her eyes, for rescuing
+her clothes from the clutches of the hawk landlady.</p>
+
+<p>All these confidences, sweetened by moderate draughts of champagne&mdash;for
+Berthe preached moderation, and economy as well&mdash;insensibly disposed the
+man to further confidences of his own, and she listened eagerly to the
+tale, of which she had heard disjointed fragments in his first outbreak
+of despair.</p>
+
+<p>"It is all plain, <i>chéri</i>" was her comment. "Mademoiselle&mdash;I mean your
+wife&mdash;never loved you."</p>
+
+<p>"I know that," was the gloomy answer.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, but why not? You so beautiful a man, so good!" and she knelt beside
+him and put her arms about his neck.</p>
+
+<p>"So beautiful! That is a matter of taste. So good!" he sighed, but let
+his head droop on her shoulder all the same.</p>
+
+<p>"Any woman must love you," she murmured. "But one thing could hinder."</p>
+
+<p>"And that thing?"</p>
+
+<p>"That she first loved another," she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>He was silent.</p>
+
+<p>"We all knew it in France," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"The Marquise?" he asked huskily.</p>
+
+<p>"The Marquise, assuredly. Why, we ran away from her because of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me all you know," he said, after awhile.</p>
+
+<p>The woman's heart fluttered; here were her tools. She could keep him,
+and she would. Kneeling thus beside him, her arms about him, her body
+close to his, his cheek against her own, he was hers. No woman should
+take him from her. Rights? Bah! Hers were the rights of conquest, and of
+the fierce demands which bade her hold what she had gained. There were
+no other rights.</p>
+
+<p>"She loved him always," she murmured. "It is all told in that." Yet she
+told much more; of how the Marquise had always suspected, of wanderings
+in Paris with no other chaperone than herself; on which occasions,
+knowing what was expected of her, and unwilling to spoil the pretty game
+she watched, she had discreetly remained as much as possible in the
+background. "He was generous and gave me presents&mdash;but, <i>ciel</i>! Why
+shouldn't he with a gold mine?" They had especially affected churches,
+and picture galleries where they could sit in secluded nooks, and where
+Natalie's attendant could easily lose herself temporarily. "The Marquise
+raved furiously," added the narrator, "but she would have raved more
+furiously still had she known all I knew."</p>
+
+<p>"She never loved me," faltered Leonard.</p>
+
+<p>"But I loved you the moment I saw you. It was hard to have you leave me
+after that kiss. Tell me it was hard for you."</p>
+
+<p>"It was hard; better had I never left you."</p>
+
+<p>"And now you never will. You have made me love you; and I,&mdash;I have made
+you love me; is it not so? Is it wicked? Ah, no; it is good, it is
+good."</p>
+
+<p>To him who heard the murmured words and was enveloped in the tenderness
+she shed upon him; who felt her lips upon his own, and who, in the
+contact, found sweet content&mdash;to him, this was a foretaste of the life
+that might be, if he had the courage to embrace it. He was like some
+worn and weary pilgrim in arid sands who, visioning an oasis, lies him
+down by a green brookside, rests in the fresh breezes, listens to the
+rippling waters, sees their sparkle and inhales the fragrance of the
+flowers, and so is lulled to fatal languor, unconscious that all is a
+mere mirage.</p>
+
+<p>To her he was no mere wayside victim, but in his resemblance to him
+whose picture she had held toward heaven in the church, a reminder of
+the happy days when first she had known love. She longed desperately to
+retain him, and though she feared the dark gulf of misery in which he
+had found her, with him she would have even faced it again, rather than
+safety with another; so that her cajolements had the grace of sincerity,
+though the parting, which he knew must come, remained constantly the
+dark background of the present. It may seem that to leave the woman
+required little heroism; that whatever charms she might possess for him,
+that those of dignity, of worthy citizenship, of respect, of all that
+even worldly men hold dear, would allure him with greater power. All of
+which is reasonable, and, no doubt, such considerations do often operate
+in cases where discreet sinners, having sinned in secret, quietly emerge
+from the bog of evil-doing, cleanse their garments and, animated by good
+resolutions, go forth among their fellows, keeping their own counsel;
+but these are sinners of experience. The innocent man, like the innocent
+woman, falls far when he falls; such men sacrifice present respect and
+hope for the future, choosing ruin; and while there are numerous roads
+to that goal, the most frequented is that one where woman roams.</p>
+
+<p>But whatever heroism may have been necessary, this man possessed it. He
+turned his face resolutely from the allurements of the present, and, if
+trembling, faced the future.</p>
+
+<p>"It cannot be otherwise," he said, falteringly. "I do not leave you to
+return to happiness. I might find that with you. I go because both for
+you and for me it is right. We may have years of life before us; let us
+use them for repentance. In this lies our only hope."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know what my life must be?"</p>
+
+<p>"One of better deeds. It is not for me," he said, sorrowfully, "to try
+to win you to high thoughts. That would seem impious, and would inspire
+you with just contempt for me and for those teachings I have disgraced.
+But I urge you to consider these things. Seek counsel; I can give you
+the means; or, if you prefer, go to a priest of your own church."</p>
+
+<p>She smiled bitterly. Knowing his own deadly depression, he could read
+her thoughts; he implored her not to despair, pointing out that that
+which was a solemn obligation, her temporal welfare, would be surely
+fulfilled by him. "Our unholy union," he said, with sad simplicity,
+"entails upon me the duty of making due provision for you. This will be
+a matter for immediate attention; promise me to remain quietly here
+until you hear from me."</p>
+
+<p>And so it was arranged, he giving her money for present needs. He
+watched her while she packed his valise, touched by wifely attentions,
+the lack of which, he told himself, had long been a grievance, of which
+now he knew the cause. He looked about him, noting the embellishments
+which her taste and her training had enabled her to add to the room,
+even in the short period of their occupancy, and the sense of a
+justifying grievance grew stronger.</p>
+
+<p>"There's room for this," she said, holding up a bottle of champagne, the
+last of a series, and unused because she had insisted upon moderation.
+He watched her place it in the bag. He had resolved never again to drink
+wine, but he would not refuse what she gave him, denying herself.</p>
+
+<p>They said good-bye. He left her, promising soon to see her, and in his
+heart solemnly resolving that they should never meet again. The lie was
+but one more added to his catalogue of sins, and had been necessary. As
+to that provision for her needs, he would make it generously. He could
+not as yet see how details were to be arranged, but for the present
+there were other things to think of. A man cannot suddenly make the
+acquaintance of himself without paying some attention to the stranger.</p>
+
+<p>He remained a day longer in the city, and then, absolutely unable to
+bear solitude, and with a manful struggle to avoid returning to the
+beckoning comfort he had left, he started on the dreaded journey
+homeward.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV" id="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV.</h2>
+
+<h3>A BOTTLE OF CHAMPAGNE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>As he left the train in the early morning and crossed the Square toward
+his house he was, notwithstanding a half-defiant carriage, assumed to
+hide the cringing of his heart, probably the most miserable man in
+Hampton. He sat down upon the bench where he had rested after his first
+meeting with Berthe and, recalling that meeting, remembered how he had
+striven to give a jaunty trend to his thoughts, and had tried to
+persuade himself that the kissing episode was but a venial misstep,
+having indeed little of dignity, but even less of sin. Behold, now, to
+what it had led him!&mdash;that deed in which he had actually gloried, seeing
+himself, because of it, somewhat more a man of the world than was
+suspected, with experiences concerning which honor bound him to secrecy
+as it did men of experience; wherefore he had despised the blabbers of
+his college days, who either kissed not at all, yet boasted of such
+kissing, or, displaying equal ingenuousness and greater meanness,
+bragged of actual kisses. He recalled all this with real sorrow, not
+unmingled with contempt for the callow youth who had sat here indulging
+in boyish fancies, the wickedness whereof was surpassed only by their
+shallowness. It was then, he thought, that his unconscious yet
+diabolical arts upon the woman, destined to be his victim, had
+commenced. Though his present misery was as great as he could bear and
+his penitence sincere, nevertheless, there was an underlying
+consciousness, and pride in the fact, of more than ordinary fascinating
+powers, in respect of women. She had loved him from the moment she had
+seen him, and had loved him to her own destruction! Though he regarded
+with horror that which he believed himself to have compassed, yet the
+underlying complacency was there. All these years she had been faithful
+to his memory. Alas for her weakness! alas for the fate which had made
+him, in respect to her, a villain! He truly repented,&mdash;was he not bowed
+to the ground in humiliation and sorrow for his sin? Yet, was he wholly
+responsible, he who had, in ignorance, exercised seductive powers,
+possessed in ignorance?</p>
+
+<p>The inner being of this man, of noble outward form, was not cast in
+heroic mould, such moulds being seldom used in the fashioning of our
+neighbors; yet he was no unusual product, being the inevitable result of
+various influences, for most of which he was not responsible. An
+idolized child, a boy of wondrous promise as of wondrous beauty, a youth
+completely filling all promises of boyhood, early called to the service
+of Heaven, and so, somewhat set apart and cherished with a care
+befitting a sacred vessel, to be guarded from every rude touch lest its
+perfection be endangered,&mdash;thus he had been fitted for the world. Every
+natural healthy instinct had been bent and distorted by the loving hands
+of ignorance, while equally natural impulses had been ignored as
+unwholesome weeds, which would find no place in a nature dedicated and
+cultivated for Heaven. He had been esteemed as somewhat higher than
+ordinary humanity, while human vices had been nourished in him so that
+they bore blossoms so fair to look upon that they were as virtues. His
+innate vanity had been so fostered that it had become the central
+product of his moral being, permeating every thought, mingled with every
+act. His most patent and engaging graces had been developed by this
+vice. His frankness, his amiability, his generosity, his mental
+aptitude, were all means for winning the esteem he craved, and had been
+employed, in fact, to that end. They were real virtues. He was in
+goodness all he seemed to be. The kindness of heart for which he was
+praised and loved, even this excellence aided in the nurture of that
+self-complacency which led him to ascribe the woman's undoing to his
+witchery, rather than to her willingness.</p>
+
+<p>As he raised his eyes and caught sight of his home, and knew that he
+must enter the house, the subtle consolation which had formed the
+undercurrent of his despondency was forgotten, or, perhaps, its utter
+worthlessness for the moment recognized. The whole horrible load of
+regret weighed again upon him, crushing his spirit. There was no comfort
+now in any phase of his reflections. He had gone forth from the home of
+his innocent boyhood, as of his worthy manhood, unhappy, indeed, but
+claiming and receiving the respect of all his fellows. Now, he must
+creep back, so vile a creature that he dreaded to meet the eyes even of
+his servants.</p>
+
+<p>As to his wife, though he had left her without good-bye, and though
+there had been estrangement between them, he knew that he must meet her
+face to face, and while he dreaded the meeting, still he longed for it
+and longed to throw himself upon his knees before her and confess. As to
+that which had estranged them, it seemed a trifle to him now. Let her
+have her will; if therein there was to be punishment for him, was he not
+willing to do penance all his days? As to those confidences made by
+Berthe, while he believed them, he believed only what he had been told.
+As to seriously thinking of actual guilt in connection with Natalie, she
+was too truly estimated by him, and he too truly innocent, still, to
+harbor base suspicions. But he knew that she had not loved him, and in
+the dismal oppression caused by his own misdeeds this conviction created
+a distinct and sharp pain, and yet it had its own alleviation. He, too,
+had something to forgive, and did forgive, even now, before forgiveness
+had been granted him. Yes, he would meet her face to face, and there
+should be repentance between them and, as each had done wrong, so each
+would do all that could be done in reparation, and if the sacrifice she
+had demanded of him be still required, he would make it.</p>
+
+<p>And thus, while Natalie, in the cemetery, had seen the way to
+reconciliation with her husband, and had recognized that she had wronged
+him, and in that recognition had found in her heart a greater love for
+him than she had known before, so he with similar thoughts, though more
+confusedly and with less honesty, though not consciously dishonest,
+slowly made his way toward the house. He entered by means of his
+latchkey, meeting nobody, and went at once to the library. It was still
+early: doubtless Natalie was in her room. He was not sorry for a
+respite.</p>
+
+<p>He was faint and felt the need of refreshment. No doubt, the maids were
+about, so he went toward the bell, then drew back, recognizing in his
+action his dread of meeting any occupant of the house. Then he
+remembered that in his valise was a small bottle of champagne. He was
+not sorry, now, for Berthe's foresight, and in his heart thanked her. He
+recalled how pleasantly this wine had affected him, how it had given him
+courage, and how his horrible depression had vanished under its
+influence. Notwithstanding his resolve to resume his old practice of
+abstinence in regard to wine, he was glad that he had this chance
+bottle, for he had never needed courage more than now. He wished he had
+some food, for he had eaten but little for many hours; the wine would
+serve until he had the courage to ask for food.</p>
+
+<p>While he was opening his bottle the front-door bell rang. The library,
+its doorway hung with heavy curtains, faced the entrance to the house.
+Leonard, peeping between the curtains, saw Mark Claghorn admitted and
+ushered by the servant into the drawing-room.</p>
+
+<p>The sight of Mark, whom he had supposed in Europe, aroused his anger. He
+hated Mark as one who had gained a love that should have been his own.
+Under the circumstances he was not sorry that his presence in the house
+was unknown. Mark, who was noted as an early riser, had probably ridden
+over from Stormpoint on some trifling errand, and, soon after Natalie
+appeared, would doubtless leave the house.</p>
+
+<p>And so he waited, thirstily quaffing the champagne and wishing he had a
+biscuit. He tried not to think of the visitor in the drawing-room, but
+found that effort vain, thinking of him, in fact, with fast-rising
+anger, until he was on the point of seeking the man to force a quarrel
+on him which should banish the intruder from the house forever.</p>
+
+<p>He was arrested in this intention by hearing Mark emerge from the
+drawing-room and walk quickly to the front door. Leonard peeped through
+the curtains and saw his wife, with her arms outspread, fall upon Mark's
+breast, and heard her cry aloud:</p>
+
+<p>"My darling, my darling, welcome home!" and with upturned face she drew
+Mark's downward, kissing his lips as she had never kissed the watcher.</p>
+
+<p>Who staggered backward, sinking into a chair, dazed as by a blow.</p>
+
+<p>Her face had been illumined, glowing with happiness. Her dancing eyes,
+her outspread arms, her lips upturned, her gladness unrestrained, so
+impatient in her longing that she could not wait for greater privacy
+than the hall&mdash;in these he had seen a woman never seen by him before.
+This was Mark's welcome home. What was his to be?</p>
+
+<p>Great tears streamed down his face; of wounded vanity, of love and trust
+betrayed, of growing fury. His moods followed fast one upon another. Now
+sunk in profounder depths of sorrow than any yet sounded, now raging
+with frantic lust for vengeance upon the woman and her lover.</p>
+
+<p>Even while chaotic fancies whirled in his brain he could hear the murmur
+of their talk, ecstatic dalliance which he would interrupt.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, he would disconcert their cooing, cover the pair with humiliation,
+eject the glib intruder and bring the woman to her knees.</p>
+
+<p>But he could not move. He was chained to his chair. A horrible
+fluttering of his heart made him gasp for breath, his head fell back,
+his face and lips were white. The want of food, the nervous depression,
+the rage and exhaustion, all intensified by the sharp and unaccustomed
+fillip of the wine, had done their work. At first it was fainting, then
+came slumber.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI.</h2>
+
+<h3>SHE CRIED ALOUD SHE WAS A GUILTY CREATURE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>For a moment Mark had yielded to the rapture of the first pure pressure
+of lips he had ever known. From the window he had seen Natalie advancing
+toward the house, and had involuntarily gone to meet her. The sight of
+her had quickened his blood, but if, for an instant, he had reveled in
+the bliss of the welcome she had granted him, almost in the same instant
+he recognized and regretted that he had dishonored her in accepting
+caresses not intended for him.</p>
+
+<p>He drew her somewhat hastily into the drawing-room. Before he could say
+a word she had recognized him.</p>
+
+<p>"Mark," she exclaimed, amazed, and then a rosy blush spread over her
+face.</p>
+
+<p>"I startled you," he said. "It was absurd in me, unpardonable."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought it was&mdash;&mdash;" her voice faltered.</p>
+
+<p>"Leonard, of course. Now welcome me for myself," and he took her hand
+and shook it warmly, after a proper, cousinly fashion, perhaps sadly
+noting the contrast, but striving to shield her embarrassment.</p>
+
+<p>He succeeded, as far as appearances went. But both were conscious of
+emotion, though each strove gallantly to hide it.</p>
+
+<p>"I am so surprised," she faltered. "You must have made a remarkable
+passage. Your mother did not expect you yet. In fact, Paula&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I took an earlier steamer than I had originally intended, and had a
+quick passage besides."</p>
+
+<p>"How glad they must have been at Stormpoint!"</p>
+
+<p>"They seemed so. I arrived last night."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry Leonard is not home yet. I expected him this morning. He has
+been in New York."</p>
+
+<p>"So the maid told me. Of course, I should not have disturbed you at
+this hour had I been aware of his absence. I rode over, and knowing that
+Leonard is, like myself, an early bird, thought I would say
+good-morning."</p>
+
+<p>"I am very glad you did, Mark."</p>
+
+<p>"Yet, it is always foolish to run outside of conventional grooves. The
+maid told me you were gone for a walk, and so I waited."</p>
+
+<p>"Which was right. I am glad you waited."</p>
+
+<p>Plainly she was uneasy and so, feeling rather foolish, he explained that
+in order to fulfil the duty of breakfasting at Stormpoint he must be
+going. Her suggestion that he remain and breakfast with her was made
+rather faintly. "Good-bye, Natalie," he said. "Remember me to Leonard.
+Next time I shall call in proper form."</p>
+
+<p>And so he rode away, watched a little while by her, who then went to her
+own now belated breakfast. She sat at the table, eating hardly at all,
+seemingly lost in thought. Then she went slowly upstairs to her own
+room.</p>
+
+<p>She sat down upon the bed, suddenly catching her breath, as one stifling
+a sob. Then she twitched her body with an impatient shake, like a
+naughty child. Then she rose quickly and began to rectify or complete
+various small duties, neglected by the maid, who had arranged the
+chamber while she had been out. Ornaments were to be lifted and dusted,
+pillows more carefully smoothed, chairs to be moved an inch forward then
+replaced. Mirrors to be wiped clear of invisible dust, but not, for some
+inscrutable reason, to be looked into; in short, pretended duty must be
+indulged in&mdash;a poor pretense, which died away as she sank into a chair
+and, with listless hands lying in her lap, permitted thought to have its
+way.</p>
+
+<p>Had she known him or not? Of course she had not known him. Not even when
+(here she blushed and her lips parted slightly)&mdash;&mdash;She was angry at her
+impetuosity, honestly angry. It was silly, but she had no other reproach
+to make to herself. It had not been her fault, coming from the sunny
+street, that she had not recognized the man who had advanced so eagerly
+to meet her,&mdash;the last person she could have expected to see in her own
+house. It would be absurd to feel more than passing annoyance at such a
+contretemps. Only a morbid conscience could find reproach for an
+episode in which there was no fault, which naturally she regretted&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>No! She did <i>not</i> regret. Had her heart not fluttered with joy every
+moment since it had happened? Was it true or was it not&mdash;she did not
+know, but, alas, she wished it true&mdash;that for one brief instant, ere he
+had released her, she had known him and had been happy? Happy! What a
+barren word was "happy."</p>
+
+<p>Her thoughts wandered far&mdash;farther than ever before. The secret casket
+in her heart, wherein heretofore they had been hidden, was opened, and
+they rushed forth, to roam in regions forbidden, yet so fair that her
+feeble protests were unheeded; and she smiled upon them, these bright
+children of fancy, wandering with them in the paradise where Love has
+made his home. She closed her eyes and strove to realize again the brief
+ecstasy of an hour ago. She knew&mdash;she must have known&mdash;in whose arms she
+had been enfolded. She wished it so; it must be so. Again she felt his
+beating heart against her own, his arms once more about her, his breast
+pressed close to hers. "Mark," she whispered, stretching forth her arms
+and pouting lips as one prepares for meeting other lips&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>The morning grew old, and she still sat thinking of many things. She
+knew that she loved the man that had left her, with a love that must be
+his, and his only, shared by no other. She had known it as she had that
+morning stood upon the strand, seeing in the fleeting rainbows of the
+spray pictures of a life that might have been, but which could never be.
+She had turned her back upon the vision, well knowing why she turned
+away. She had seen it again in the cemetery and had denied it, bidding
+it begone forever; and she had met it on the threshold of her home, no
+longer a vision, but a fact so rapturous and so mighty that she dared no
+longer deny the truth. She loved him; she had always loved him.</p>
+
+<p>She sat long, dreaming her pleasant dreams, which only slowly merged
+with the facts with which she was environed. Very gradually the full
+import of her thoughts came home to her, but it came surely, disclosing
+an abyss so evil and so deep that she was appalled, and sinking upon
+her knees she cried aloud that she was a guilty creature, and prayed
+fervently and long for aid to be that which she had only that morning
+resolved to be, a faithful wife in thought as in deed.</p>
+
+<p>At last she went downstairs. Entering the library, she discovered her
+husband.</p>
+
+<p>He still slept, the deep sleep of exhaustion. She watched him, noting
+the careworn face, the disheveled dress. To her he looked like a man who
+had passed through a crisis of illness, he was so changed.</p>
+
+<p>And now the regret and penitence for all the wrong she had done him
+pressed upon her as a heavy weight. She was his wife, yet had driven him
+from her side. She was his wife, yet had, within an hour, dreamed her
+dreams of love and happiness in which he had no share.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVII.</h2>
+
+<h3>A GOLDEN BRIDGE ACROSS AN ABYSS OF SHAME.</h3>
+
+
+<p>When Leonard awoke to find her bending over him, the anxiety in her eyes
+looked to him like fear. He had no perception of the fact that hours had
+passed since in the meeting in the hall he had seen the same eyes
+dancing with the light of joy, and had heard from the drawing-room the
+fond murmurs of forbidden love. In his first awakening the scene he had
+witnessed and the murmurs he had heard swayed before his eyes and
+sounded still in his ears. Fresh from dalliance with her lover, she
+might well tremble to find her husband here! With this thought
+uppermost, he staggered to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>She started back. He glared upon her with a gaze so furious that she was
+in truth afraid.</p>
+
+<p>For the burden of her guilty dream weighed heavily upon her, justifying
+the hatred in his eyes, a hatred born of the ascription of all his woes
+to her, and while she saw abhorrence, the suffering he had endured was
+no less plainly written in his haggard face, accusing her even as she
+accused herself. Her sins against this man, her husband, the father of
+her dead child, crushed her with the burden of the humiliation born of
+them.</p>
+
+<p>"My husband!" In her self-abasement she sank upon her knees. The action
+was instinctive in her of Gallic training; to Leonard, bred to less
+dramatic display of emotion, it was proof of guilt far deeper than he
+had until now suspected.</p>
+
+<p>"Get up," he said harshly, and taking her by the arm he led her to the
+doorway, pushing her from the room and, with unconscious violence,
+almost throwing her against the opposite wall. He returned to the room
+and rang the bell. His rudeness had given him a sense of mastery in his
+own house, and had dissipated his dread of meeting the servants. He
+asked the maid if breakfast would soon be ready, and was surprised to
+learn that it was long past noon.</p>
+
+<p>Ordering a meal to be prepared he went upstairs, boldly and with
+something not unlike a swagger in the perception that there were sinners
+as bad as he, and having bathed, being clothed in fresh garments, and
+having eaten almost ravenously, he felt, he said to himself, like a new
+man.</p>
+
+<p>Which indeed he was, if new thoughts make a new man. That dreadful load
+of regret for his own misdeeds had been lifted from his shoulders. His
+violence toward his wife had somewhat shocked himself, and while
+attending to his physical needs, he had had time to regret his hasty
+outbreak; and this fact led him to resolve to consider the situation
+calmly and judicially.</p>
+
+<p>To know all is, if the French adage be true, to pardon all, which is
+perhaps the reason why we find it easier to forgive our own sins than
+those of others. We presumably know what motives actuated us in
+evil-doing, and being aware of the strength of the force that drove us,
+we are conscious of the fact that had the incentive to sin been less
+powerful than our rectitude we would not have been guilty. In other
+words, we sin because we can't help sinning, a logical and soothing
+conclusion, converting our wickedness into misfortune and rendering us
+objects of self-commiseration rather than of self-condemnation.</p>
+
+<p>But in that contemplation of the iniquity of others, to which
+circumstances sometimes impel us, and which is always so painful, the
+strength of temptation which we have not personally experienced is less
+obvious, while at the same time the sense of our own rectitude is
+naturally in the ascendant. And as, in such contemplation, our judgment
+is inevitably swayed by our morality in its sternest mood, especially if
+the crimes under consideration have wronged ourselves, our indignation
+is naturally fervent. It is also true that our vision is clarified, our
+memory sharpened, and we recall incidents, now corroborative of guilt,
+though heretofore unremarked, or regarded as innocent.</p>
+
+<p>Leonard recalled so many of such incidents that at last nearly every
+remembered act of his wife assumed a semblance of guilt. There were
+those visits to churches mentioned by Berthe, the woman who truly loved
+him, and who, doubtless, had minimized the truth to spare him, and the
+same habit had been indulged in after marriage. It was not to pray that
+she went to the churches; he remembered that she had herself said so.
+No; it was to dream of the old unhallowed meetings in the hallowed
+precincts. To dream! Why not to meet her lover? During much of their
+sojourn in Paris, Mark had been supposed to be in London&mdash;what was a
+passage between London and Paris to Mark? He remembered now that in
+Natalie's bearing toward himself there had always been a vague and
+undescribable something which he could not define, but which he had
+felt. It was easy now to fix the date of the commencement of this
+aloofness (he had found this word for it); it had been during the visit
+in Paris. He recalled a thousand instances with which to torture his
+mind and prove his suspicions true. The aloofness had increased; after
+the birth of the child it had even been noticed by others&mdash;and then as a
+blow came the conviction that the inferences she had drawn from his
+belief in hell and her consequent resolve to live a celibate life were
+all pretense, a ghastly role played in obedience to her lover's command.</p>
+
+<p>As this hideous thought took possession of him all semblance of judicial
+summing up was put aside. He laid his head between his hands and wept
+aloud in his great misery. He had loved her; she had been the light of
+his life. He remembered her now (and the vision he recalled was
+strangely clear and vivid) as she had stood at the entrance to the cave
+where dwelt the echo of Forellenbach; she laughing a little at the
+strange American boy who thought wine-drinking an evil; he standing
+within the cave, half shy, half proud, and longing to wake the echoes
+with the pretty name, on that day first heard by him. Yes; he had loved
+her then and always, while she,&mdash;and he groaned and his hot tears fell
+fast as he remembered that Berthe had said&mdash;Berthe who knew&mdash;that his
+wife had never loved him!</p>
+
+<p>The thoughts that racked him were base and unworthy, but he believed
+them. It may be that at the bottom of his heart he wished to believe,
+even while the belief rent him with actual anguish. He needed
+justification for his own sins, and true to his human nature, found it
+where he could. Again, perhaps dim as yet, but only dim because he
+closed his eyes, was the desire to be driven to a step which he had
+hardly dared contemplate, which he had refused to contemplate when it
+had been suggested to him, but toward which now he was making his way as
+certainly as he who, lost in the gloom of some dark forest, makes his
+way toward a rift of light.</p>
+
+<p>He took Mrs. Joe's cheque from his pocket and looked at it. He recalled
+a suggestion of Berthe that they cash it and go to France together. The
+suggestion had startled, yet had fascinated him. He had put it aside.
+Now its fascination returned with tenfold power&mdash;to put the ocean
+between him and the past; to be a denizen of that land where man can be
+free; to be one of those who, being damned, refuse to accept misery in
+this life as well&mdash;he had recognized it then as a picture painted by the
+devil; it now assumed a worthier aspect. There would be boldness in such
+a step, a certain picturesqueness as well, and a dramatic ending to the
+play in which he had enacted the role of dupe. The curtain would be rung
+down upon a scene not contemplated by the authors of the drama&mdash;a scene
+in which he alone would retain some dignity, to the discomfiture of
+those whose puppet he had been.</p>
+
+<p>No thought of financial dishonesty was in his mind. The peculiar
+fascination in the cheque was the facility it afforded for complete and
+sudden rupture of every tie. He could secure the maker of the cheque
+against loss; that could be done at his leisure; meanwhile, there it
+lay, a golden bridge for passage across an abyss of shame, beyond which
+lay a region of beauty and content.</p>
+
+<p>Yet even while he mused, finding a balm for wounded pride and love
+betrayed in visions, of which the central figure was the woman who had
+parted from him in despair, and whose pleading eyes even now besought
+him, while his own lonely heart called out to her&mdash;even now, when
+despair on the one hand, and passion on the other, strove for mastery,
+even now he turned from the devil's beckoning finger, resolving to be
+just.</p>
+
+<p>Yes; the accused should have a hearing. He would confront his wife and
+demand an explanation of that meeting in the hall. She was probably
+aware that he had witnessed it, for she had crouched in fear before him
+when she had unexpectedly found him in the library. If she had not known
+of his presence he would inform her and warily watch her, and carefully
+weigh whatever she had to offer in explanation. He would not be
+deceived, but she should meet the accusation face to face, himself
+accuser, judge and witness.</p>
+
+<p>He looked at his watch. It was after nine o'clock. Natalie could hardly
+be in bed. He would see her now in her own room, away from the chance of
+eavesdropping servants.</p>
+
+<p>He prepared to put his intention into effect and was already in the
+hall, when a maid handed him a sealed note.</p>
+
+<p>He read the letter. It commenced abruptly, without address:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"Your violence has so agitated me that it has only been after a
+long struggle that I have brought myself to write you. But I
+persuade myself, as indeed I must, that you were unconscious of
+your harshness. I will not, therefore, offer you my forgiveness
+for an offense which was unintentional. But I think it better
+that we do not meet immediately. I am the more urgent in this
+because I wish your spirit to be soothed and your anger against
+me to be mitigated, so that you shall hear me calmly. For, I
+have much to say to you&mdash;a sad confession to make which may be
+even harder for you to bear than the sorrow you have already
+borne. But I have hope that if you will hear it calmly you will
+recognize that if I did not love you I could not open my heart
+to you, as I shall do. My husband, I have not been that which I
+so long to be in future, a true wife to you. But I know, for I
+know your goodness of heart, that when you have heard all you
+will pardon all, and that our future shall be cloudless; that
+your love shall help me to be that which I have failed in
+being&mdash;your faithful wife."</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>No need now, having read this confession, to consider his future course.
+It was fixed. He looked at his watch. The train left at midnight. He
+would write the necessary answer to the letter at once.</p>
+
+<p>He wrote swiftly and without pause. His brain had never been clearer,
+his heart never lighter.</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes before midnight he quietly left the house. When he had
+crossed the street to the Square he looked back at the only home he had
+ever known. For good or for evil he was about to leave it, never to
+return the husband of the woman who watched in the dimly lighted
+chamber. A sob shook him as he turned from the light toward the
+darkness.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE RUINS OF HER AIR-CASTLE LAY AROUND HER.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Father Cameril laid down the "Life of St. Dunstan" and sighed. "He was
+strong, he was faithful," muttered the good Father. "Alas!" and he
+sighed again.</p>
+
+<p>He took a photograph from his pocket and gazed long upon the pictured
+features. "Dr. Hicks did it," he murmured. Then he replaced the
+photograph and went forth, going toward the sea, until at last, by many
+a devious way, he came into the grounds of Stormpoint, and there, by
+Eliphalet's Tomb, he saw a woman. "'Tis fate," he muttered. The woman
+turned; Father Cameril started. He was face to face with Natalie.</p>
+
+<p>He stammered awkwardly, being wholly taken by surprise, that he had
+thought she was Miss Lynford; then, after some conventional references
+to the weather, he escaped. Natalie watched him as he walked away, then
+fell into bitter musings, in which he had no part.</p>
+
+<p>Two years had passed since Leonard's flight. With the fall of her hero,
+the light of the life of Miss Claghorn had been extinguished, and
+though, with grim courage, she had striven to bear the heavy hand of the
+Lord, laid thus upon the House of Claghorn, the knowledge that another
+of the race, the brightest and the best, was doomed, was too heavy a
+burden. Other Claghorns would be born and would live their little day,
+but for whom could hope be cherished after such a fall as this? She
+passed from life sure of her own salvation, but with the knowledge that
+the elect race was no more to be reckoned as of the favored minority.
+She refused to leave any message for Leonard; since the Lord had closed
+the gates of glory upon him, it was for her to close her heart. She
+charged her estate with a liberal annuity for Tabitha Cone, leaving her
+fortune, otherwise unincumbered, to Natalie, who, with Tabitha,
+continued to reside at the White House.</p>
+
+<p>A further untoward result of the catastrophe was the derangement of the
+political plans of Mrs. Joe. The use of her cheque, given to Leonard, as
+trustee, his unfulfilled promise of a large donation from an anonymous
+lady (who could be no other than the lady of Stormpoint), his curt
+resignation sent to the Seminary authorities from New York, the
+separation from his wife, her seclusion, the crushing grief of Miss
+Claghorn, the perturbation of Mrs. Joe, shared by Mark&mdash;these were all
+parts of a puzzle eagerly put together, and so far successfully, that
+the fact of the misuse of the cheque was established, at least to the
+satisfaction of the multitude. And this involved an explanation from
+Mrs. Joe, and the making known of her change of mind in respect of the
+donation, which again involved some reflection upon the god and the
+Confession revered by the Seminary, wherefrom was emitted a spark of
+resentment, not allayed by Mark's openly expressed indignation with
+those who professed to discover something parlous with regard to the
+change of mind of his mother, in respect to the once-intended bounty.
+The upshot of all this confusion was the lassitude, not to say, disgust,
+evinced by Mark for the political prospects held out by Hampton, and
+Mrs. Joe's recognition of the need of acting upon the shrewd advice of
+Mr. Hacket, which was to "lie low till the pot stopped boiling," a
+consummation not fervently hoped for by the adviser.</p>
+
+<p>With eyes fixed upon where the sun, a fiery ball, fast sank in the
+distant waters, Natalie, standing where Father Cameril had left her,
+recalled the days of her girlhood and their dreams. Her life, short as
+it had been as yet, had been full of trouble. Were all lives thus? Her
+glance fell upon the tomb; she wondered if the man at rest these two
+centuries and more had in death resolved the deep mystery of living; or
+was he, in fact, not yet at rest, but wandering still in other spheres,
+the toy of a destiny he could neither shape nor fathom? She recalled the
+day upon which she had seen the handsome American boy in the Odenwald,
+and she thought of the ruin of his life with unutterable sadness. She
+remembered how she had prattled with her father as the two dusty
+travelers had entered the garden, and she recalled her bright visions
+of the days to come. The days were here! The crumbling ruins of her
+air-castles lay about her, and in the great upheaval that had caused
+their fall a life had been wrecked. She looked out upon the waters,
+hearing the ceaseless moan of the surge, and remembered how the kindly
+fury of the waves had striven to rescue that life from shame and
+degradation. Better, ah! how much better, had Leonard never returned
+from that desperate plunge, but had gone a hero to whatever lay beyond!</p>
+
+<p>She remembered the day&mdash;it was not a day to be forgotten&mdash;that she had
+taken the early walk to the cemetery; and how, as she had then looked
+out upon the waves, a truth that during all the days of her wedded life
+had lain at the bottom of her heart, had confronted her unbidden,
+demanding recognition. She had refused to see it, until in the awakening
+that had come to her in the cemetery she had, with high resolve,
+determined to defy it and make of it a lie&mdash;and within an hour had
+forgotten her resolution, and had dreamed her dreams which had their
+birth in the pressure of lips to which she had no right. On the morrow
+of that darkest day of her life she had found her husband's letter to
+herself, a letter whose words were burned in upon her memory: "Natalie,
+in your heart you never loved me." He had added more, the justification
+of the wretched confession, now defiant, now maudlin, which followed;
+much of it sadly false; but she remembered it all, and the true text of
+his miserable story stood out before her as though lettered in the air.
+The words condemned her. It was not true, and she made a gesture as
+though repelling an accusation&mdash;it was not true that in the truth of
+Leonard's words lay the underlying motive of the course of life she had
+resolved upon. She denied this in her thoughts with almost frantic
+vehemence; yet, urgent in her wish to find palliation for her husband's
+sin, and seeing with clear vision the folly of the frightful dogma which
+she now knew that in very truth he could not have believed, but which,
+if believed, must of her own wrong have made a virtue, she grew
+confused, and could find but one utterance to express the truth&mdash;"I have
+sinned."</p>
+
+<p>She drew from the bosom of her dress a letter which she had received
+but a few hours before. It was from Leonard, written from New York, and
+repeating that accusation which she confessed as true. In the letter the
+writer expressed his surprise that he had not found, on his return to
+America, that she had taken steps to rid herself of ties which must be
+hateful to her. This, he claimed, was an added injury to him, since it
+prevented the course which his conscience required, and which he was in
+honor bound to take for the sake of one who had loved him sufficiently
+to sacrifice herself for him (meaning, though Natalie was ignorant of
+the fact, Mademoiselle Berthe). He had added that if, within a given
+time, his wife did not avail herself of the legal right to secure her
+freedom, he would, actuated by the high considerations suggested, be
+compelled to take measures to satisfy his conscience and his sense of
+honor. And he concluded the epistle by setting forth with sufficient
+distinctness the fact, that the law would recognize the validity of the
+grounds on which he would, if it became necessary, base his application
+for divorce.</p>
+
+<p>Heretofore she had resented the urgency of every friend (except one who
+refrained from advice) to take the step to which she saw now she would
+be driven. Mark alone had been silent, and her heart had often
+fluttered, knowing his reason. But she had not dwelt upon a thought upon
+which she knew she must not linger; rather had she prayed that Leonard
+might return, and she be enabled to carry out the resolve she had so
+often made, and in which she had so often failed, to be in all things a
+true wife; thus earning the forgiveness which she craved by according
+that which was due from her. Perhaps she had persuaded herself that such
+a course would be possible&mdash;even so&mdash;she knew that in the letter she
+held in her hand, she saw not the insult to herself, not the base
+attitude of its writer, but the dawning of another day, and the promise
+of a happiness which hitherto she had not dared contemplate, and which
+she tried hard not to contemplate now.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXXIX.</h2>
+
+<h3>VOIDABLE VOWS OF TURKS (AND OTHERS).</h3>
+
+
+<p>When Father Cameril had found Natalie at Eliphalet's tomb, expecting to
+find Paula, he had received a greater shock than the incident would seem
+to have required.</p>
+
+<p>He had said to himself it was Fate; but had found that it was not fate
+that determined a step which he desired to be compelled to take.</p>
+
+<p>That vow of celibacy had been made in ignorance. He was sure, having
+examined the authorities closely as to this, that a vow taken in
+ignorance was not binding. Turks were in the habit of vowing enmity to
+the truth, yet could a Turk do a more praiseworthy deed than break such
+a vow? He had supposed that celibacy was a good things for priests. He
+had been wrong. It was a very bad thing. Ought he to continue a wrong
+course in deference to a vow taken under a misconception? The underlying
+motive of the vow was the desire to live worthily; since life lived in
+accordance therewith would be passed less worthily than in opposition to
+it, the only honest course was to disregard the vow. So argued Father
+Cameril, unaided by fate, and hence, compelled to fall back on logic.</p>
+
+<p>But fate was to be more propitious than he had feared. Seated on a rock
+in a distant portion of the grounds, gazing out upon the setting sun, he
+came upon Paula.</p>
+
+<p>He took the hand she offered and which, as had lately been the case,
+lingered a little within his own. Then he sat down beside her.</p>
+
+<p>"How beautiful it is," she observed.</p>
+
+<p>"Paula," he said, "I love you. Will you be my wife?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" exclaimed Paula.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps it was not very reassuring. But it was not a refusal. Her face
+was rosier than he had ever seen it. Her heart was beating wildly.</p>
+
+<p>"I wanted to be a nun," she faltered.</p>
+
+<p>"I know it," he replied; "and I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Vowed celibacy."</p>
+
+<p>"It is true," he admitted.</p>
+
+<p>And then they sat and looked at where the sun had been.</p>
+
+<p>After awhile Paula arose and said she must go to the house.</p>
+
+<p>He offered his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"May I kiss you?" he said, in a low tone, his face very pale.</p>
+
+<p>"Father Cameril!"</p>
+
+<p>He hung his head. "You despise me," he said, after awhile. "You are
+right. I despise myself. It is very hard."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't despise you; and you are not to despise yourself," she
+stammered. "You perplex and confuse me. You astonish me."</p>
+
+<p>"I knew I would," he answered hopelessly. "It is very natural. I wish I
+had not been born."</p>
+
+<p>"I beg you not to say dreadful things, not to have dreadful thoughts,"
+she exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>"But I can't help them. If you knew how awful they are sometimes. Dr.
+Hicks did it, Paula."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't let us talk of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Let us think about it."</p>
+
+<p>"I couldn't."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you love me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I love everybody. You, and everybody."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you are a saint. I am not. I only love you. I only think of you.
+Morning, noon and night. At Mass; everywhere&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you, really?" she interrupted.</p>
+
+<p>"I do, really."</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him curiously. It was very nice, indeed, to know that a
+good man was in the habit of thinking of her so continuously. But&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"You should not think of me in church," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course not. I wouldn't if you were my wife. As it is, you creep into
+all my thoughts. You are in the prayer-book, in the Bible, in the Life
+of St. Dunstan, and of St. Thomas (of Canterbury), too. You are
+everywhere."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" said Paula again. This was love indeed.</p>
+
+<p>"But your vow?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can explain that. Vowing under a misconception is not binding. That
+was the way I vowed."</p>
+
+<p>"On purpose?" she asked, horrified.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no. I thought I was doing right."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you were," she said. "If you were, this must be wrong."</p>
+
+<p>"I have examined my own heart closely, very closely."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you been to confession?"</p>
+
+<p>"To whom can I go? The Bishop would not hear me. He is benighted&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"There's your friend, Father Gordon."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Paula, he's only twenty-three."</p>
+
+<p>"But he's a priest."</p>
+
+<p>"But <i>he's</i> under a vow. How can he understand?"</p>
+
+<p>A rapid footstep was heard. "There's Mark!" exclaimed Paula.</p>
+
+<p>Father Cameril tripped quickly away. "You here!" exclaimed Mark, as he
+came upon Paula. "Isn't it dinner time?"</p>
+
+<p>"It must be," she said, slipping her hand into the arm he offered.</p>
+
+<p>"It was Father Cameril, Mark," she said, after a pause.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," he replied.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, of course?" she asked, with slow utterance.</p>
+
+<p>He looked down into her face a little quizzically. "Is it not of
+course?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;don't&mdash;think so," she answered slowly.</p>
+
+<p>"Paula!" He stood confronting her suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Mark?"</p>
+
+<p>He laughed, yet looked at her rather seriously. "I thought you were
+going to be a nun?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am; do you object?"</p>
+
+<p>"I shall be sorry to see it. But&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But what?"</p>
+
+<p>"There are other things I would regret more."</p>
+
+<p>She looked into his face. It was a quick, questioning glance, but long
+enough for him to note her beauty. They went on to the house in silence,
+but Paula's heart fluttered.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XL" id="CHAPTER_XL"></a>CHAPTER XL.</h2>
+
+<h3>HER FACE WAS THE MIRROR OF HER PLEASANT DREAMS.</h3>
+
+
+<p>In Hampton Cemetery there stands, and will stand for the sympathetic
+admiration of future ages, an imposing monument, which apprises him who
+meditates among the tombs that it was "Erected to the Memory of Jeremiah
+Morley, by his Sorrowing Widow." At the date of the construction of this
+expensive evidence of grief, the cost whereof had been provided by
+testamentary direction&mdash;for the late Jeremiah had not been the man to
+stake a testimonial to his worth upon anything less binding&mdash;the
+stone-cutter, as one versed in the prevailing fashion of monumental
+inscriptions, had suggested the conventional reference to the usual
+"Hope of a Joyful Resurrection"; but the widow, her conscience already
+strained by the legend agreed upon, had objected. Yet the inscription
+which strained her conscience had the merit of truth; for the man
+beneath the stone had left her sorrowing, as she had sorrowed nearly
+every day since she had been pronounced his wife; but, being strictly
+Hamptonian in her views, her long intimacy with the deceased had
+rendered her incredulous of his joyous resurrection.</p>
+
+<p>Years before the erection of the monument, while Easthampton was still a
+port known to mariners, the warehouses since pulled down by Mrs. Joe
+having hardly commenced to rot, a certain Jerry Morley who, so far as he
+or anybody else knew, had no legitimate right to name or existence, had
+sailed from the harbor in the capacity of third mate of the barque
+"Griselda," a trim vessel manned by a crew of blackguards, not one of
+whom could approach the mate either in hardihood or in villainy. At that
+time Mate Jerry had been scarcely more than a boy, ragged, unkempt and
+fierce-eyed; when he returned, which he did by stage (for the barque had
+disappeared from the ken of man), he was a smooth-shaven, portly
+gentleman, hard and domineering; but strict in his walk (to all
+appearance), and rich. The voice of detraction is never absolutely
+silent, and though Mr. Morley possessed all the ingredients which go to
+the making of a "Prominent Citizen," and played that role successfully
+for many years; yet occasional whispers were heard as to mutiny, murder,
+seizure of the "Griselda," and a subsequent career as a slaver;
+whispers, confined mostly to the ancient mariners who smoked and basked
+about the decaying docks of Easthampton, and which, in due time, were
+heard no more. Mr. Morley purchased a fine residence in Hampton, was
+munificent to the Seminary, married the fair daughter of a prominent
+theologian, and, in short, appeared to the eyes of the world as a clean,
+pompous, very wealthy and highly respected citizen and church member.
+Few beside his wife knew that, in fact, he was a brute, given over to
+secret vices. He had possessed a brain incapable of either excitation or
+ache. Never sober, no man had ever seen him (to the observer's
+knowledge) drunk. Few suspected his secret indulgence, but at the age of
+sixty, liquor, aided by other sly excesses known only to himself, struck
+him down, as a bullet might have done, relieving a once rarely beautiful
+woman of a great load, and granting her a few years of comfort as a
+set-off against many years of hidden misery.</p>
+
+<p>From this grandfather Leonard had inherited more than one unsuspected
+trait, but not the iron constitution which had succumbed only after
+years of abuse. Berthe still had her adorable one, but her adoration was
+gone; her man had become an object of compassionate disgust. The
+brilliant theologian was a sot.</p>
+
+<p>His fall had been from so great a height to so low a depth, that in his
+own eyes his ruin was accomplished before his case was hopeless. He was
+not hurried to his doom by late awakened appetites alone; he had hardly
+abandoned his home before regret, if not repentance, became a burden too
+heavy for endurance. The mournful echoes of his days of virtue, the
+visions of his past of honor, were ever in his ears and before his eyes.
+Remorse, the hell of sinners, was ever present; and from its constant
+pangs was no relief except in plunging deeper into sin, inviting
+greater horrors, and ever beckoned by them. To such miseries were added
+the fear of that unending life beyond the grave; the life of torment,
+which all his days he had been taught to contemplate as the doom of
+souls abandoned by their Maker. The knowledge that he was one of those
+"passed by" and left for the fires of hell&mdash;this knowledge hourly
+increased the anguish of his spirit. Who among men shall too hardly
+judge a ruined fellow-creature, abandoned by his God, who in debauchery
+can find forgetfulness; or who, in the hazy mists of drunkenness alone,
+can see some rays to cheer the gloom of ruin?</p>
+
+<p>They had at first gone to Paris, and there he had plunged into
+dissipation with an ardor that had startled and angered his companion,
+whose good sense had been revolted. True, she had shown him the way,
+recognizing his need of distraction; but she had not counted on reckless
+excess, and had at first welcomed the change when he showed a
+disposition to concentrate his attention upon liquor alone. She was to
+learn that this slavery was the most debasing of all.</p>
+
+<p>The woman had loved her victim in her own way, and for awhile she
+honestly strove to raise him from the foul abyss in which he seemed
+doomed to settle, but her efforts had been vain. She had long been
+possessed of the common purse, and though her prudence had husbanded the
+proceeds of Mrs. Joe's cheque, she saw the necessity of reasonable
+economy; so she got her man to London, where he, by this time, exhausted
+from dissipation, was content to live frugally, so long as his decanter
+of gin was kept supplied. The woman often gazed furtively at him, and
+was troubled. She commenced to consider the future. "Leonard," she said
+one day, "you ought to marry me."</p>
+
+<p>He was neither startled nor repelled. "It would be the first step in the
+right direction," he answered. "Perhaps then I could overcome the
+craving for drink." She was touched by the hope which for one moment
+gleamed in his dull eyes. It aroused an answering hope in her bosom. Ah!
+If it could be! If she could become his lawful wife, an honest woman;
+and he the man he had been before she had led him to ruin! The passing
+vision of purer days lured both.</p>
+
+<p>A nobler desire than mere acquisitiveness was awakened in her. She knew
+that probably no such marriage would be legal; it might even be
+dangerous. But, it would bind him to her so that there could be no
+escape. And so the matter came to be discussed between the two. Both
+were aware of the possible criminality of the act, though both hoped
+that Leonard's wife had procured a divorce; but, notwithstanding some
+misgiving, the marriage was finally accomplished. Berthe had her own
+reasons for not waiting until they could revisit America; and perhaps in
+the loneliness of his wrecked life, Leonard's object was like the
+woman's, to bind her to himself with hooks of steel. Perhaps it was but
+the result of influence of a stronger will upon a fast decaying mind.</p>
+
+<p>Thus it had come about that the two had returned to America, and, on
+their arrival, had concocted the letter to Natalie, by whom it had been
+submitted to Mr. Ellis Winter. That gentleman advised that Natalie take
+up her residence in New York, and he engaged to notify Leonard that his
+demand for divorce would be accorded, as soon as the needful legal
+requisites could be complied with. Natalie was to make her application
+on the ground of abandonment, and to refuse to ask for alimony.</p>
+
+<p>And now, alone with Tabitha in a big hotel, without occupation, except
+such as was afforded by recollections which could not be other than
+bitter; in the gloom of the days and the miserable object of her present
+existence, Natalie allowed herself to see the rays of hope illumining a
+future upon which she looked, shyly, and with a sense of guilt. Yet who
+would not contemplate the alluring tint of fruit as yet forbidden, but
+ripening for us before our eyes?</p>
+
+<p>During this period of isolation she saw Mark once, his visit having the
+ostensible excuse of business. Leonard had, by the hand of his legal
+adviser, written to Mrs. Joe, suggesting that she purchase the Morley
+mansion, so that out of the proceeds of the sale he could repay his
+debt. While the lady would have been as well content that the debt
+remain unpaid, it was believed by all who still hoped that Leonard might
+be won back to respectability, that the suggestion was a good one. To
+carry it into effect the consent of Natalie was, of course, necessary,
+and also that the transfer be effected before the institution of divorce
+proceedings. The consent was immediately given.</p>
+
+<p>"And, Mark," said Natalie, as she handed him the deed, "if you see
+Leonard, say to him that I hope for his forgiveness."</p>
+
+<p>"His forgiveness!"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, Mark! I wronged him; I ought never&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He knew what was on her lips, but which she could not say to him&mdash;that
+she ought never to have married Leonard. He took her hand and drew her,
+unresisting, toward himself; her head drooped upon his shoulder. They
+stood thus, for a moment, and then he left her. Words of love remained
+unspoken, but the heart of each was full of that which was unsaid.</p>
+
+<p>There was a long and dreary interval, but at length came the day when
+Natalie was made free. She learned the fact in the afternoon, but
+concealed it from Tabitha. That evening she was melancholy, and Tabitha
+essayed in vain to cheer her; and so the next day passed. But the day
+after that Tabitha noticed a change; a tremulous fluttering, some
+tendency to tears, but more to smiles. And Tabitha discovered that she
+was being petted. She must have a drive&mdash;and had it; special delicacies
+at luncheon were ordered for her delectation, including a share of a
+pint of champagne, which Tabitha averred was sinful, though she sinned
+with satisfaction. A beautiful gold watch was given her to replace the
+fat-faced silver bulb, precious in Miss Cone's eyes as once the property
+of the long-drowned mariner, but which of late years had acquired the
+eccentric characteristics of the famous time-piece of the elder Weller;
+and at last when the time came to say "good-night," Tabitha must be
+kissed and hugged. But the last proceeding was too much for the maiden's
+discretion. "What is it?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Tabby, I'm so happy." And then, ashamed, and afraid of having said
+too much, Natalie escaped to her own room.</p>
+
+<p>And there read again the letter which she had received that morning, and
+which she had furtively read many times during the day. She knew it by
+heart, but she liked to read the words written by her lover's hand.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"Dear Natalie&mdash;The decree is granted. The words, 'I love you'
+have been on my lips so long, that they must find utterance. I
+repeat them, if not with lips, yet in my heart every moment of
+the day. Write or telegraph me the date of your arrival at the
+White House. I would rather have a letter; in a letter you can
+say that you love me. Shall it be a letter?</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Mark.</span>"</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>To this she had answered by telegraph: "I write to-night." He was in
+Philadelphia, and until the evening of the following day she would be
+unable to leave for home. He would receive her letter in time to get to
+Stormpoint soon after her arrival in Easthampton. He desired a letter;
+he should have a letter.</p>
+
+<p>Yet it was hard to write. It had been easy to whisper to herself such
+phrases as "Mark, dear Mark, I love you, I love you"; but it was less
+easy to set those words down on paper, though there was a joy in it,
+too. The difficulty of writing them vanished when they were for her own
+eye only, not to be mailed. And so she scribbled over sheet after sheet
+of paper: "Mark, Dear Mark, My Love, My Own, My Lover"&mdash;such words and
+many others she wrote, blushing, smiling; at times not seeing what she
+wrote for the tears in her eyes. At last she roused herself from this
+foolish play and wrote a proper letter.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"Dear Mark&mdash;How good you have always been! I shall arrive home
+on Saturday morning. I long to see you. Dear Mark, I love you."</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>The last phrase was hurriedly written and had required resolution, but
+she was happier for having written it. She sealed the letter that she
+might not be tempted in the morning to substitute another. Then she went
+to bed, and all the night through her face was the mirror of her
+pleasant dreams. No shadow of the future was upon her as she slept
+smiling.</p>
+
+<p>And awoke with the smile upon her face, and in a low voice sang while
+dressing. Her toilet concluded, she took her letter from the table,
+kissed it shyly, and placed it in her bosom. She would mail it as she
+went downstairs.</p>
+
+<p>A knock at her door and the announcement of a visitor&mdash;a lady who had
+business of importance. Natalie ordered that the lady be shown into her
+sitting-room.</p>
+
+<p>On entering the sitting-room she found Berthe.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLI" id="CHAPTER_XLI"></a>CHAPTER XLI.</h2>
+
+<h3>HER GUILTY CONSCIENCE CRIED: "BEHOLD YOUR HANDIWORK."</h3>
+
+
+<p>Natalie saw all things through the halo of the rosy hopes that now
+encompassed her. "Berthe!" she exclaimed, both hands extended in
+welcome, "I thought you had gone to France. Mrs. Leon told me so&mdash;but,
+how is this? You look pale and ill?"</p>
+
+<p>Pale and ill she was, but no illness would have deterred her from making
+the appeal she had come to make.</p>
+
+<p>Since his return to America, Leonard had indulged in drink more
+recklessly than ever, and Berthe, though conscious of the value to
+herself of the divorce, had dreaded the granting of the decree. For the
+prospect of being bound to this lost creature filled her with aversion.</p>
+
+<p>Conscience makes cowards of us all, and Berthe feared the man. Not that
+he had shown any inclination for violence toward her, though he had long
+been irritable and disposed to quarrel on slight provocation. She did
+not fear his hand; it was his presence. The sodden spectacle was
+becoming a weight upon her soul, an accusation beyond her strength to
+bear. She had loved him, loved him even now, and her guilty conscience
+cried incessantly, "Behold your handiwork!"</p>
+
+<p>On the day when Natalie had petted Tabitha, she had for the first time
+lived in fear, even of his hand. Early that morning she had noticed that
+his speech was tremulous and uncertain, though he drank less than usual.
+He dozed constantly, often waking with a cry of terror; and then his
+whole frame would tremble as he gazed with eyes of hate and horror at
+herself, or at some invisible yet dreadful object near her, muttering
+incoherent phrases indicating fear. Again he would doze, again awake and
+the scene would be repeated. With each new seizure his action became
+more violent, while the nameless horror that was upon him communicated
+itself to her. At last she sent for a physician, but not until there had
+been a wild outbreak. He had clutched her by the throat: "Devil!" he
+shouted, "you shall not take me to hell; I am of the elect, a Claghorn!
+Down, fiend!" She had cowered in fear, and he had saved her life by
+fainting.</p>
+
+<p>The doctor easily diagnosed the case. Berthe's willingness to pay for
+the services of two male nurses, and the fear that any disturbance might
+entail a frantic outbreak and death, were the considerations that
+restrained the physician from ordering the patient's removal to a
+hospital.</p>
+
+<p>The convulsions of the stricken man were frightful; his shrieks, his
+wailing prayers for deliverance from hell&mdash;these appalled the woman,
+filling her with apprehension akin to that of the raving victim. His
+calls for Natalie were most piteous, wails of anguish that pierced the
+heart of the woman that had loved him, and whose moans answered his
+incessant repetition of the name of one, lacking whose forgiveness he
+must face the horrors of the damned. The unending utterance of the name,
+never ceasing even when at last he sank into the stupor of exhaustion
+and of opiates, attracted the attention of the physician, who told
+Berthe that while he believed the case hopeless, possible good might be
+effected by the presence of the person without whom it seemed as though
+the man could not even die.</p>
+
+<p>The awful fear that he would die, his last wish ungratified, wherefore,
+in her belief, his restless soul would haunt all her future days; this,
+added to the pity for the man she still loved, who had rescued her from
+misery, whose head had lain upon her bosom, nerved her to carry out the
+resolve she had taken. She knew that no messenger could effect the
+purpose; she must assume the task herself. It was not without a pang
+that she determined upon a mission which, if successful, must involve
+her desertion of the dying man; but, though she did not forget such
+jewels as she possessed or to collect all the money that remained, her
+flight was nevertheless intended as such expiation as she could make.</p>
+
+<p>She hoped, though she could not be sure, that her identity as Leonard's
+companion was not known to Natalie; but she assumed that Mrs. Leon had
+given information as to other misconduct, and she expected to be met
+with cold disapproval, if, indeed, she were received at all. But instead
+of disapproval she was encountered with outstretched hands and their
+friendly pressure; and, as with this reception there came upon her the
+recollection of the sweet graciousness of her former mistress, and with
+it the consciousness of her requital of the kindness of past days, her
+heart was like to fail.</p>
+
+<p>"I bring you a message," she gasped, "from your husband."</p>
+
+<p>"My husband!" For the moment Natalie forgot that she had no husband.
+Then the recollection came upon her, and with it a premonition of evil.
+She was as pale as Berthe, as she stood, looking at her visitor,
+bewildered and afraid.</p>
+
+<p>"Stop!" she exclaimed, as Berthe was about to speak. "What can you know
+of him you call my husband? He left me, abandoned me for a wicked woman.
+He wrote me confessing his shame, but not his fault. Again he wrote,
+insinuating wicked deeds of me, and threatening me. Since two days he is
+no more my husband; I can receive no message."</p>
+
+<p>"He is dying!"</p>
+
+<p>The red flush which had displaced the pallor of Natalie's cheek
+disappeared. Again her face grew pale; she stared at Berthe.</p>
+
+<p>"Listen," faltered the Frenchwoman. "He wronged you, yet he loved you
+always, has loved you till this hour, and cannot die without your
+forgiveness."</p>
+
+<p>"Take it to him&mdash;&mdash;Dying! Leonard, Leonard!" She covered her face.</p>
+
+<p>"I was maid to the woman he went away with," continued Berthe, "and so I
+came to know his story. The woman has been kind to him&mdash;let her pass,
+then"&mdash;seeing that her listener shuddered. "The man is dying. He moans
+and wails for you&mdash;for you. The woman herself begged me to come for you.
+He fears" (her face grew whiter) "he fears the fires of hell, but he
+will not have a priest. Only you can rescue him&mdash;your pardon&mdash;he cannot
+die without it." She broke down. All else she might have borne upon her
+conscience; but she could not bear that he should go unshriven.</p>
+
+<p>At the mention of the fires of hell Natalie was conquered. "Take me to
+him," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Follow me in half an hour," Berthe rose as she spoke, handing a written
+address to Natalie.</p>
+
+<p>"But no time must be lost&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"In half an hour," repeated Berthe. "Give her&mdash;the woman&mdash;time to get
+away." And then she passed out of the room.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLII" id="CHAPTER_XLII"></a>CHAPTER XLII.</h2>
+
+<h3>"I WILL NEVER LEAVE HIM, SO HELP ME GOD IN HEAVEN."</h3>
+
+
+<p>"Natalie." He stirred uneasily, muttering the word, which since her
+coming he had not uttered; then, as she lightly pressed the hand she
+held, he slept again. So she had sat for hours beside his bed.</p>
+
+<p>The physician had prepared her for the sight that had met her eyes. From
+Tabitha, who was with her, he had gleaned some knowledge of the facts.
+Tabitha, still ignorant of the granting of the decree, had assured him
+that the visitor was the wife of Leonard Claghorn.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor woman, she will need her courage," he said. "The other one has
+gone. As for the wife, if she can bear it, I would have her sit beside
+him so that he can see her when he wakes."</p>
+
+<p>So there she had taken her place, beside the man whom the law had
+decreed was no more to her than any other. But death mocks law. Dying,
+he was so much to her that no hand but hers should smooth his pillow.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps the nature of the disease, perhaps the deep exhaustion, had made
+a great change in his appearance. The bloated aspect of his face was
+gone, and even a greater beauty than the beauty of his youth and
+innocence was apparent. But it was the beauty of ruin. The face was
+marble, yet lined with the deep furrows of sorrow and remorse. The hair
+was gray at the temples, the cheeks were hollow and the mouth was drawn.
+It was Leonard, the man whose head had lain upon her bosom, the father
+of her child&mdash;the same, yet oh, how changed!</p>
+
+<p>"Natalie!"</p>
+
+<p>She bent toward him. He essayed to lift her hand to his lips; she placed
+it on his brow.</p>
+
+<p>"I have had a dream," he whispered, "a dreadful dream!"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush, Leonard. You must sleep."</p>
+
+<p>He feebly raised his arm and tried to draw her to him. Slowly she bent
+toward him, falling on her knees beside the bed. His arm was now about
+her neck; he drew her cheek to his.</p>
+
+<p>"My wife!" He uttered the words with a long-drawn sigh, of such sweet
+content that in that sigh she believed he had breathed his life out.
+Soon he spoke again. "Now I can sleep," he said, and freed her from his
+embrace. She rose gently and stood watching him; he slept without the
+stertorous breathing of before. Looking up, she saw the physician in the
+doorway. He beckoned to her. She rose and quietly left the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Madam," said the doctor, "this is wonderful. That natural sleep may
+portend recovery."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I can go," she said.</p>
+
+<p>The doctor looked at her gravely, not approvingly. But it was not as he
+supposed; she was not hard-hearted; but the woman! Leonard had written
+that his conscience and his honor demanded that he marry the woman. If
+he were to live, there was no place at his bedside for her, who had once
+been his wife.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Claghorn," said the doctor, "your companion, Miss&mdash;ah&mdash;Miss Cone,
+has informed me of the existing relations between you and your husband.
+As a stranger I can give no advice, can only tell you that the woman who
+has been his companion has left your husband forever."</p>
+
+<p>"Left him to die!" she exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>"Precisely. It need not surprise you. It is barbarous; but such women
+are barbarous. I shall be surprised if one who has displayed so much
+magnanimity should fail now. Pardon me, Mrs. Claghorn, but your place is
+by your husband's side. One woman has basely left him to die. Should you
+leave him now, you repeat the act."</p>
+
+<p>The doctor silently withdrew. Natalie sank into a chair. Her mind was
+confused. Her place by her husband's side! Had she then a husband? The
+scenes in which she had been an actor had numbed her faculties, strained
+by the long watch by the bedside she had left. A feeling of suffocation
+was stealing over her; instinctively she loosened her dress at the
+throat. The letter she had written to Mark fell upon the floor, and she
+sat staring at it, dumb.</p>
+
+<p>It became evident that her husband, as all in the house believed him to
+be, would live. Over and over again the doctor congratulated her on the
+wonderful influence of her presence upon the sick man. Naturally, he was
+glad to have rescued a patient from the very jaws of death; and though,
+since he had learned more of her history from Tabitha Cone, he had
+slight sympathy for the man, yet he believed that even under the
+untoward circumstances existing, forgiveness and reconciliation was the
+course which promised most for future happiness.</p>
+
+<p>"It is the best thing for her," he said to Tabitha. "She will withdraw
+the divorce proceedings and forgive him. She can never be happy unless
+she does."</p>
+
+<p>Tabitha, though sure that she herself would never have forgiven her
+mariner under similar circumstances, which, however, she admitted were
+unthinkable in that connection, agreed with the physician.</p>
+
+<p>"He will be long in getting well," said the physician; "if, indeed, he
+ever recovers completely. If he has the heart of a man he must
+appreciate what she has done for him; literally brought him back to
+life."</p>
+
+<p>"He was a good man, once," observed Tabitha, her eyes filling. "Oh,
+Doctor! The most beautiful, the sweetest; the most frank and loving
+boy&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And a brilliant theologian, you tell me. Well, well, Miss Cone, in my
+profession we learn charity. It is astounding what an evil influence
+some women can gain over men. And this one was not even beautiful."</p>
+
+<p>"The hussy!"</p>
+
+<p>"Quite so. Ah, Miss Cone, our sex must ever be on guard," and the doctor
+laughed a little. He was feeling triumphant over the recovery of his
+patient.</p>
+
+<p>Yet in watching that recovery his face was often very grave. Natalie was
+sharp-eyed. "Is your patient getting well?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"He improves hourly," was the answer, but the tone was not cheerful. He
+looked at Natalie anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Physically, yes. His mind, Doctor?"</p>
+
+<p>"His mental faculties are failing fast."</p>
+
+<p>"How long has this been going on?" He was surprised at her equable
+tones. Evidently she had nerved herself for this disclosure.</p>
+
+<p>"A brave woman," he thought.</p>
+
+<p>"That is a hard question to answer."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think it the result of drink? He had never touched liquor two
+years since."</p>
+
+<p>"I should hardly ascribe it to liquor entirely. Doubtless,
+over-indulgence of that nature has been a force, a great force. The
+delirium in which you found him may be directly ascribed to drink."</p>
+
+<p>"If he had been greatly harassed, say two years since, having been up to
+that time a good man&mdash;if then he had suddenly fallen into evil&mdash;would
+you ascribe such a fall to the mental strain consequent upon the worry I
+have suggested?"</p>
+
+<p>"She seeks every palliation for him," thought the doctor. "Madam, I
+should say that in the case of a man, such as you have pictured, a
+sudden lapse into evil courses, courses which belied his training and
+previous life&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes?" She was looking steadfastly at him. He little knew the resolve
+that hung upon his words.</p>
+
+<p>"I should say he was not wholly responsible. I should attribute much to
+the worry, the vexations, to which you have alluded."</p>
+
+<p>With all her firmness she shrank as from a blow. Thinking to comfort
+her, he had driven a knife into her heart.</p>
+
+<p>"And now, my dear Mrs. Claghorn, since we are upon this subject&mdash;a
+subject from which I admit I have shrunk&mdash;let me tender you some advice.
+You have saved your husband's life; let that be your solace. It will not
+be for his happiness that you sacrifice your own."</p>
+
+<p>"Go on," she said, seeing that he hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"After awhile&mdash;not now," he said, "but after your presence is less
+necessary to him, you must let me aid you to place him in an
+establishment where he will have every care&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"An asylum?"</p>
+
+<p>The doctor nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"I will never leave him, so help me God in heaven! Never, never, Mark,
+my darling, for I, and only I, brought him to this pass!" She cried
+these words aloud, her hand upraised to heaven.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIII" id="CHAPTER_XLIII"></a>CHAPTER XLIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>MONEY, HEAPS OF MONEY.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Mark Claghorn, standing by the window of that room at Stormpoint which
+was especially set aside as his own, but which, in its luxurious
+fittings, bore rather the traces of the all-swaying hand of the mistress
+of the mansion, gazed moodily out toward the tomb, speculating, perhaps,
+as to the present occupation of the soul that had once been caged in the
+bones that crumbled there.</p>
+
+<p>To whom entered Mrs. Joe, who silently contemplated him awhile, and
+then, approaching, touched his shoulder. He turned and smiled, an act
+becoming rare with him. "Mark," she said, "I am getting old."</p>
+
+<p>"You look as young as my sister might," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"That's nonsense," but she smiled, too. Barring some exaggeration, she
+knew that his words were true.</p>
+
+<p>"Even so," she urged seriously, "you have wandered enough. You might
+stay here for my sake."</p>
+
+<p>"Mother, I will stay here for your sake."</p>
+
+<p>"Only that, my son? You know I want more than that."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said, "you want too much. Let us have it out. Believe me, your
+pleasant dream of a political career for me is hopeless. Granted that I
+could buy my way to high office&mdash;though I do not think so&mdash;could I ever
+respect myself, or command respect? Where, then, would be the honor?"</p>
+
+<p>"I never thought of buying."</p>
+
+<p>"No, not in plain terms. But at my age, together with the fact that I am
+a stranger, at least a newcomer, in this State, money would be my only
+resource&mdash;perhaps a hopeless one, in any case. The rich man must learn
+his lesson, which is, that wealth bars the way to honor."</p>
+
+<p>"Our senior Senator is rich."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not speak of moderately rich men. Suspicion is even directed
+(unjustly, I believe) against such men. But the whole State knows that,
+politically, our Senator has risen from the ranks. Perhaps he has been
+compelled to buy that which is his due&mdash;who can tell? But all know that
+at least he has earned the distinction he has won."</p>
+
+<p>"And could you not earn it?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. I am not merely moderately rich. I should be 'held up' by every
+rogue that glories in the name of politician. If I refused to buy, and
+refuse I must, I should have no chance whatever. Gold besmirches many
+things. A rich man is of necessity defiled, let him keep his hands as
+clean as he can."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Joe sighed.</p>
+
+<p>"You have not been willing to realize the facts which influence my
+life," he went on. "We must look facts in the face. Political
+distinction is not for me. For your sake I would try, were I not assured
+that your disappointment would be inevitable. He laid his hand upon her
+shoulder. He spoke very kindly.</p>
+
+<p>"Mark," she said&mdash;there were tears in her eyes&mdash;"I wish you were happy."</p>
+
+<p>"If I am content&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But you are not. Oh, Mark, seek happiness. Marry."</p>
+
+<p>He smiled grimly. "I wish I could," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Mark, you say my dream is hopeless. I surrender it. Is yours less
+hopeless? You wear your life away. Is it worthy to wait for a man to
+die?"</p>
+
+<p>He made no answer.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear," she said, and the word moved him deeply, for though he knew how
+much he was beloved of his mother, a term of tenderness was rare from
+her lips&mdash;"Dear, you know what she wrote me."</p>
+
+<p>"You showed me the letter. She gave me the same advice long ago."</p>
+
+<p>"It is the right thing to do. Paula loves you. Natalie is lost to you.
+You do not know where she is; she does not intend that you shall know.
+She will not marry you now, even though death were to free her from the
+bonds she has assumed. She is right. Mind, Mark, I say no word of
+censure. I believe in her purity as I do in Paula's&mdash;but the world will
+talk. That which she has done cannot be kept secret, but her motive must
+remain a secret. Had the man died&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Enough!" he said sternly. "You say you believe in her as you do in
+Paula. No shadow of suspicion can ever cross my mind or yours. We need
+not consider the world&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But, my son, she will consider it. She does consider it. Her letter to
+me shows it. That letter was no easy one for a woman to write. Do you
+think she would even indirectly have disclosed your secret to me, except
+that she believed it necessary for your good? I do not doubt, Mark, that
+she has renounced your love even to you. Is it not unworthy to&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"To love without hope? Perhaps it is. But since the fact is not
+generally known&mdash;here, as in some other things, the sin consists in
+being found out." He laughed. "You know you didn't find out; you were
+told."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; in the hope, I verily believe, that the disclosure would wound you
+and so kill your love."</p>
+
+<p>"It wounded, certainly," he said bitterly. "Perhaps, if you give it
+time, the wound may yet be as fatal as you wish&mdash;as she wished." He
+laughed again very grimly. "Strange creatures, women," he said. "Their
+self-sacrifice includes the sacrifice of every one but self."</p>
+
+<p>"That is cruel! From no possible point of view can her life be a happy
+one."</p>
+
+<p>"How you quarrel about a man and cling together against a man!" he said,
+smiling down upon the lady, who had no other answer than the shrug
+which, when it moves feminine shoulders, implies that masculine density
+is impenetrable. His smile broke into laughter.</p>
+
+<p>It aroused her secret indignation; but encouraged her, too. If he could
+laugh, her case was not hopeless.</p>
+
+<p>"Mark, let us be sensible. You should marry and have children. What else
+is open to you, the rich man? You have no faith in the world, none in
+friendship, none in love. Consider what your life must be if, at this
+age, all purer sources of feeling are dried up! In marriage you will
+find them all reopened. Your family will be your world. You need
+children. I need them. We are rich; yes, horribly rich. What is all this
+worth to us? You are the last of a race, honorable since the tenant of
+yonder grave first set foot upon this soil; honorable before that time.
+Shall that race die in you? My son, that old-world notion of Family is
+estimable. This country needs that it be cherished. The wealth will not
+be so new in the next generation. Your sons will not be strangers in the
+land of their fathers. You shall so train them that in them you shall
+reap the distinction denied to you. You say I am yet young. I am not
+old, and may still live to see my grandsons honored by their fellow men.
+By your own confession nothing remains to you but marriage. Love is
+offered you daily, by one most sweet and most lovable. Paula&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He stopped her by a gesture. Her unwonted energy had impressed him. She
+had spoken well. "You have uttered many truths," he said, "but what you
+say of Paula is not kind, nor do you know&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Mark! on my honor as a woman, I believe that Paula loves you." Then she
+left him.</p>
+
+<p>He remained long musing. Why should he not make his mother happy? It was
+true, waiting for a man to die was a pitiful occupation. And even should
+the man die there would be no hope for him. It was a year since Natalie
+had hidden herself with her burden and Tabitha Cone. Hidden herself, as
+he well knew, from him. She had written both him and his mother. She had
+not feared to again acknowledge her love; but she had prayed him to
+forget her. And she had told him that Paula loved him; she had shown him
+that his duty required him to love Paula in return; finally, she had,
+almost sternly, bade him cease to hope.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps his mother was right. Perhaps Paula loved him&mdash;as much as she
+could love. He loved her in the same cool fashion. He was used to her.
+She was very beautiful, completely amiable, kind and gentle. Not very
+brilliant, yet if simple-minded, not a fool. Marriage would bring out
+all there was of Paula, and that might be much more than was generally
+suspected. And whatever it was it would be lovable. He knew he was
+living the life of a fool. Why live that life consciously? Why not make
+his mother completely happy; Paula and himself happier; as happy as they
+could be?</p>
+
+<p>He turned to his desk and opened a hidden drawer therein. From this he
+took a small packet of papers. "A man about to die or marry should set
+his house in order," he muttered, as he spread the papers open. There
+was the first letter Natalie had ever written him; a reply to his letter
+of condolence concerning her father's death. He glanced over it and
+slowly tore it into fragments. He did the same with the few others
+written by her, all except the last he had received. This was in answer
+to a letter into which he had thrown all the strength of his soul,
+lowering, if not completely breaking down, the last barriers of reserve
+behind which those who feel deeply hide their hearts.</p>
+
+<p>He could not complain that in her answer she had not been equally frank.
+"From the innermost depths of my soul I love you, and if more can be, I
+honor you still more&mdash;and because I so love and honor you I must not see
+you again. I have loved you since the day I first saw you in the
+Odenwald. I loved you when I became the betrothed of another. I hoped
+then you would find a way to free me from the promise I had given. I
+aver before Heaven that I tried with all my strength to be a faithful
+wife. I loved my husband; alas! not as I know now, with a wife's love,
+but I believed it. Yet&mdash;let me confess it&mdash;at the very bottom of my
+heart slept my love for you, not dead as I had thought it. I have sinned
+against you, against him who was my husband, against myself. We must all
+suffer for my sin. You are strong. I must gather all the strength I can
+for the duty that my guilt has laid upon me&mdash;to bear my fate and to make
+a ruined life as endurable as unremitting care can make it. My sin was
+great. Consider my expiation! I must always see before my eyes my
+handiwork.</p>
+
+<p>"You love me. Do you think that ever a doubt of your love crosses my
+mind? You will always love me. I know it. But, if you see me no more
+that love will, in time, become a tender reminiscence&mdash;not worth a tear,
+rather a smile&mdash;of pity let it be, for the lives that are wrecked. But
+from this day forth let your own life present a fair ideal to be
+realized. One has grown up beside you whose fate is in your hands. The
+fashioning of her destiny lies with you. To be a happy wife and mother,
+the lot for which nature intended her, or to live the barren life of a
+religious devotee; and knowing her as I do, I know that for you,
+embittered and distrustful by reason of your burden of inordinate
+wealth, she is supremely fitted to make your life serene and cheerful in
+return for the felicity you will bring to her.</p>
+
+<p>"Adieu, for the last time. I shall not forget you, but shall love you as
+long as I live, and as warmly as I love you now. But deliberately, and
+with unalterable resolve, I have chosen my lot. Nothing, not even the
+hand of death, can render me fit to be more to you than the memory of
+one who has lived her life."</p>
+
+<p>He slowly tore the letter into fragments as he had torn the others.
+Perhaps his mouth twitched as he did so. He looked upon the little heap
+of paper on his desk. "The Romance of a Rich Young Man," he muttered,
+and smiled at the conceit. Then he gathered the fragments in his hand
+and strewed them upon some tinder in the chimney and applied a match.
+"Gone up in Smoke," he said aloud.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you speak?" asked his mother, who had entered the room.</p>
+
+<p>"I repeated the title of a novel I am going to write," he said. "I
+wanted to hear how it would sound."</p>
+
+<p>"You must live a romance before you can write one, Mark."</p>
+
+<p>"True," he answered dryly. "I need experience. Where is Paula?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mark!"</p>
+
+<p>He kissed her. "Yes," he said, "I will do what I can to make you happy,
+and&mdash;gain experience."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Joe's eyes beamed through her tears.</p>
+
+<p>"She is in the library."</p>
+
+<p>Leaving the room by the window, which opened upon a veranda, he walked
+toward the library, the windows of which opened upon the same veranda.</p>
+
+<p>The library windows were divided in the centre, like doors. They were
+open now, and the thick French plate reflected like a mirror. In the
+open window pane he saw, as in a mirror, a portion of the interior.
+Paula was there, and Paula's head nestled against the breast of Father
+Cameril, and the good Father's arm encircled her while his lips pressed
+hers.</p>
+
+<p>Mark stole silently away.</p>
+
+<p>He found Mrs. Joe awaiting him in the room he had left. "Be very kind to
+her, mother," he said. "She will have something to tell you."</p>
+
+<p>"But you have been so quick&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He smiled. "I shall not be the hero of the tale. Father Cameril is the
+lucky man. After all, it is better. I could not have made her happy as
+she deserves to be. I am glad I was prevented from offering her&mdash;&mdash;" He
+hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"Your heart," said Mrs. Joe.</p>
+
+<p>"An insult," he answered curtly, as he left the room, strolling toward
+Eliphalet's tomb.</p>
+
+<p>And at Eliphalet's tomb he recognized that Natalie had been wise. Now
+that it was lost to him he knew that his last long-neglected chance for
+happiness was gone. Happiness! Perhaps the word meant too much, but in
+Paula's companionship he could at least have found, in time, contentment
+and cheerfulness, and are these not happiness, the highest happiness?
+What now was left him? Money, heaps of money! It barred the way to
+honorable ambition; its heavy weight lay on his heart, breeding therein
+suspicion of the love or friendship of all men and women. For him life
+must be a solitude. He could never lie beside a wife assured that he had
+won her for himself. He knew that the deadly poison of distrust must
+ever and ever more thoroughly taint his being, distorting his vision and
+rendering the aspect of all things hateful. Yet how many thousand men,
+whose clothes and dinners were assured them, would be glad to change
+places with him! "But all I have are clothes and food," he muttered.</p>
+
+<p>"We are all poor critters!" Deacon Bedott had spoken words of wisdom.
+"But the poorest of all is the Rich Man, Deacon," he said.</p>
+
+<p>And then bethought him that by this time Paula and Father Cameril would
+have made their great announcement. "Little Paula!" he murmured. "Well,
+she shall have joyous wedding bells, at least, and smiling faces. For
+the rest let the fond Father look to it!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIV" id="CHAPTER_XLIV"></a>CHAPTER XLIV.</h2>
+
+<h3>WEDDING BELLS.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The summer sun beat pitilessly upon the burnished cobble stones, driving
+from the crooked street all except the geese, and even these only
+languidly stretched their necks, hissing inhospitably at the heels of
+the dusty wayfarer, the sole object of interest to the landlord of the
+Red-Ox, who stood in the gateway of his hostelry and blinked in the
+glare of the sun. "Too old for a student," he muttered, "and no
+spectacles. Perhaps an artist." As the pedestrian came nearer a puzzled
+gleam, half of recognition, spread over his features. The dusty traveler
+stopped. "And so you are here yet!" and he slapped the broad shoulder of
+the host.</p>
+
+<p>"Here yet, and hope to be for many a year to come," answered the fat
+host; "and you are here, not for the first time, I dare swear; but who
+you are, or when you last were here&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"That you can't recall. Why should you?"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Ein Amerikaner!</i> A <i>studiosus juris</i>, of the Pestilentia. <i>Ein alter
+Bursch</i> of ten years back! Remember? Surely, all but the name."</p>
+
+<p>"And what's in a name?" shaking the offered hand of the landlord. "Mine
+is a mouthful for you&mdash;Claghorn."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Herr Doktor</i> Clokhorn. That's it. Not so great a mouthful after all."
+He led the way into the well-remembered garden. "Many a schoppen have
+you had here," he said; "and many a time sung '<i>Alter Burschen
+Herrlichkeit</i>' at this very table, and many trout&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Devoured," interrupted Mark. "That pastime will bear repetition. As for
+singing, one loses the desire."</p>
+
+<p>"Not so," observed the fat host. "I am sixty, but I lead the Liederkranz
+to-day. Wine, woman and song&mdash;you know what Luther said&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I remember. But not even the Great Reformer's poetry is to be taken
+too literally. We'll discuss the point later on. Now some trout, then a
+pipe and a gossip."</p>
+
+<p>When the host departed to attend to the order, Mark unstrapped his
+knapsack and looked about him.</p>
+
+<p>He had come thousands of miles to see this garden! He admitted the
+foolish fact to himself, though even to his mother he would have denied
+it. The fat host was right; he had drunk many a flask of wine in this
+place, roared in many a chorus, had danced many a waltz with village
+maidens on yonder platform; but of these various scenes of his student
+days he had not thought until his host recalled them. They were
+memories, even memories with some of that tender sadness which renders
+such memories pleasant, but such as they would never have drawn him
+here.</p>
+
+<p>And now that he was here, so sharp a pain was in his heart that he
+recognized his folly. The wound was yet too new. He should have waited a
+decade or more. Then he might have found solace in recalling her to his
+mind, here where first he had seen her; he, in all the arrogant pride of
+youth; she, with all the fresh beauty of a school girl. Now no effort
+was needed to recall her to his memory&mdash;she was ever present.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, he enjoyed his fish and his wine. "A superlative vintage,"
+said the host, who had had time to recall his guest more distinctly, and
+who remembered that in past days <i>Studiosus Clokhorn</i> had dispensed
+money with a liberal hand.</p>
+
+<p>"And so the inn has been enlarged," said Mark, looking about him. "That
+means prosperity."</p>
+
+<p>"Forellenbach is becoming a resort," replied the host. "We have parties
+that remain for days. We have strangers here at this moment."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" was the sleepy comment.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; three ladies. Or rather, two ladies and a maid. Mother and
+daughter&mdash;English."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" said Mark again.</p>
+
+<p>At this point the host, rather to the relief of his guest, was called
+away, and Mark adjusted himself upon the bench and dozed. A long tramp,
+and perhaps the superlative vintage, had made him sleepy.</p>
+
+<p>When he awoke, sunset shadows were about him. He was vexed, having
+intended to walk on to Heidelberg, which now he must do in part after
+dark. However, a walk by night might be pleasanter than had been the
+tramp under the sun. Before leaving he would look about. It was not
+likely that he would ever again see a place which would dwell always in
+his memory.</p>
+
+<p>As he neared the cave where the echo dwelt he saw the slender figure of
+a woman. Her back was toward him, but the garb and mien proclaimed one,
+not a permanent resident of the village. "One of mine host's guests," he
+murmured, "a <i>gnädige Frau</i> of artistic taste and economical practice."
+He paused, unwilling to disturb feminine meditation. The stranger stood
+at the entrance to the cave, on the spot where first he had seen the
+girl who, later, had become the one woman in the world to him. There was
+something in her attitude, bent head and arms hanging listless, that
+interested, even moved him. She, too, looked like some lonely being,
+saying a last farewell at a shrine where love had been born; and then,
+as she strolled away, hidden by overhanging boughs of trees and the
+slowly deepening evening shadows, he smiled at his conceit.</p>
+
+<p>He strolled on to where she had been standing, for, though he smiled
+cynically at his foolishness, the spot was to him a sacred one. If
+sentimental folly had brought him a thousand leagues, it might well
+control a few steps more.</p>
+
+<p>As he reached the place he came face to face with another woman, whose
+old but sharp eyes recognized him instantly. "Mr. Mark!"</p>
+
+<p>"Tabby!" He was so astonished that he could say no more for a moment.
+Then he found words: "Was that Natalie?"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Cone, though slightly hysterical from pleasure and surprise,
+explained that Natalie had just left her. "But what brings you here?"
+she added.</p>
+
+<p>"Heaven or fate," was the answer. And then he was for following Natalie
+at once. But Tabitha restrained him. "Let me prepare her," she urged,
+and to that plea she found him willing to listen.</p>
+
+<p>Then she told him the story of their wanderings. They had brought
+Leonard to Europe, principally for the voyage, which, however, had been
+of no benefit. They had remained in Ireland, near Londonderry, where
+they had first landed. He had never been able to move, but passed his
+life in a wheeled chair. His mind had been that of an infant, though
+before he died he seemed to have gleams of intelligence, and had once in
+an old churchyard expressed a wish to be buried there, or so Natalie had
+interpreted his babbling. And there he had slept for a year. "And so,"
+sobbed Tabitha, "the poor boy's weary life is over at last. God bless
+him!"</p>
+
+<p>"Amen to that," said Mark. "Tabitha! It has been a grief to me, God
+knows. So heavy a sorrow that I have thought I could not bear it; yet,
+at this moment I can say that I am glad that Natalie forgave him and
+cherished him till he died."</p>
+
+<p>Tabitha looked up. Her hard, worn old face was softened by her tears.
+"Those words," she said, "will win her for you; if words can win the
+heart already yours."</p>
+
+<p>At the appointed hour Tabitha led him to Natalie, who was waiting for
+him. He could see the swaying of her form as she rose to greet him. He
+took her in his arms.</p>
+
+<p>"My darling, my darling." He could say nothing else. Her arm had crept
+upward about his neck; he held her close.</p>
+
+<p>"Why are you here?" he asked, at length, then added: "Bless God that you
+are here."</p>
+
+<p>"To say good-bye to a place that has often been in my thoughts. And,
+since heaven has permitted it, to say good-bye to you."</p>
+
+<p>"That you shall never say. I vow before God never to leave you. You and
+I shall live our lives together, whatever your answer to the petition I
+now make. Will you be my wife?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mark, I am not&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Stop!" he said. "You once declared that as you loved me, so you honored
+me. I now, with all solemnity, declare that you are honored as you are
+loved by me. If I do not estimate the fault which you have expiated as
+you do, I respect and admire the expiation. If you believe me to be a
+truthful man, learn now that I approve your care of him who was your
+husband. Let that suffice. And now, once more I swear that I will never
+leave you. Will you be my wife?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mark, I love you."</p>
+
+<p>"Then the wedding bells shall ring, and Forellenbach shall rejoice."
+Their lips met, and in the kiss they forgot the years that had passed
+since last they saw Forellenbach.</p>
+
+<h3>THE END.</h3>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
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+</body>
+</html>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mr. Claghorn's Daughter, by Hilary Trent
+
+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: Mr. Claghorn's Daughter
+
+Author: Hilary Trent
+
+Release Date: March 1, 2011 [EBook #35436]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. CLAGHORN'S DAUGHTER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                        Mr. Claghorn's Daughter.
+
+                            BY HILARY TRENT.
+
+
+    Copyright, 1903, by J. S. Ogilvie Publishing Company
+
+    All Rights Reserved.
+
+    NEW YORK:
+    J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY,
+    57 ROSE STREET.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+I. A Philosopher and a Marchioness
+
+II. Two Pagans Discuss Fish, Paris and the Higher Criticism
+
+III. A Cousin in the Coils of the Great Serpent
+
+IV. The Diversions of the Claghorns
+
+V. How a Pagan Philosopher Entered the Service of the Church
+
+VI. Art, Diplomacy, Love and Other Things
+
+VII. A Conference of Spinsters Concerning a Runaway Damsel
+
+VIII. A Maiden Fair, a Modern Early Father and a Theologian
+
+IX. The Advantages of Treading the Borderland of Vice
+
+X. A Youth of Promise, a Female Politician, and a Yellow Man
+
+XI. The Devil Walks To and Fro in Hampton
+
+XII. Her Eyes Grew Limpid and Her Cheeks Flushed Red
+
+XIII. Whereat Cynics and Matrons May Smile Incredulous
+
+XIV. In the White House--A Damsel or the Devil, Which?
+
+XV. Sur le Pont d'Avignon on y Danse, on y Danse
+
+XVI. Warblings in the White House and Snares for a Soul
+
+XVII. The Secret of Her Heart Was Never Told by Her to Him
+
+XVIII. A Lover Writes a Letter
+
+XIX. A Kiss that Might Have Lingered on His Lips While Seeking Entrance
+at the Gate of Heaven
+
+XX. A Dishonest Veiling of a Woman's Heart
+
+XXI. A Man About to Meet a Maid
+
+XXII. Man Walketh in a Vain Shadow
+
+XXIII. A Parson Treads the Primrose Path in Paris
+
+XXIV. To Him I will be Henceforth True in All Things
+
+XXV. Mrs. Joe on Clerical Bumptiousness and Mrs. Fenton's Shoulders
+
+XXVI. Introduces Dr. Stanley, Satan and the Prayer Meeting of Matrons
+
+XXVII. The Music of the Chorus of the Anguish of the Damned
+
+XXVIII. Cursing and Beating Her Breast, She Falls Upon the Grave
+
+XXIX. Dr. Stanley Discourses Concerning the Diversions of the Saints
+
+XXX. Startling Effect of Dr. Burley's True Meaning
+
+XXXI. He Clasped Her Lithe Body with a Clutch of Fury
+
+XXXII. A Paean of Victory Hymned in Hell
+
+XXXIII. A Delectable Discussion in Which a Shakesperian Matron is Routed
+
+XXXIV. When Manhood is Lost Woman's Time is Come
+
+XXXV. A Bottle of Champagne
+
+XXXVI. She Cried Aloud She Was a Guilty Creature
+
+XXXVII. A Golden Bridge for Passage Across an Abyss of Shame
+
+XXXVIII. The Ruins of Her Air Castles Lay Around Her
+
+XXXIX. Voidable Vows of Turks (and Others)
+
+XL. Her Face Was the Mirror of Her Pleasant Dreams
+
+XLI. Her Guilty Conscience Cried, "Behold Your Handiwork"
+
+XLII. I Will Never Leave Him, So Help Me God!
+
+XLIII. Money, Heaps of Money
+
+XLIV. Wedding Bells
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE.
+
+
+Some readers of this novel will charge the author with the crime of
+laying a sacrilegious hand upon the Ark of God; others will characterize
+his work as an assault upon a windmill.
+
+I contend (and the fact, if it be a fact, is ample justification for
+this book) that The Westminster Confession of Faith has driven many
+honest souls to the gloom of unbelief, to the desperate need of a denial
+of God; and that to-day a very large number of the adherents of that
+Confession find it possible to maintain their faith in God only by
+secret rejection of a creed they openly profess.
+
+Take from that Confession those Articles which give rise to the dilemma
+which confronts the wife and mother of this story, and nothing is left.
+The articles in question are the essential articles of the Confession.
+
+He who can in honesty say of The Westminster Confession of Faith: "This
+is my standard: by this sign I shall conquer," he, and he only, has the
+right to condemn my purpose.
+
+HILARY TRENT.
+
+
+
+
+MR. CLAGHORN'S DAUGHTER
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+A PHILOSOPHER AND A MARCHIONESS.
+
+
+Mr. (by preference Monsieur) Beverley Claghorn, of the Rue de la Paix,
+Paris, was a personage of some note in that world in which he had lived
+for many years. His slightly aquiline nose and well-pointed moustache,
+his close-cropped grizzled hair, his gold-rimmed pince-nez, his hat, his
+boots--his attire as a whole--successfully appealed to a refined taste.
+The sapphire, encircled by tiny diamonds, which adorned his little
+finger, beautiful to the common eye, was, in the eye of the connoisseur,
+a rare and exquisite gem. Except as to an inch or two of stature, the
+outward man of Monsieur Claghorn left nothing to be desired; while as to
+his intellectual calibre, he to whom it was best known regarded it with
+respect, even with admiration; his moral deportment had never occasioned
+scandal; with the goods of this world he was liberally endowed. As a
+philosopher (for he affected that character) he should have been a
+contented man; being human, as philosophers must be, he was not. As
+against the advantages indicated, Monsieur had grievances incompatible
+with contentment. He was nearer sixty than forty, which was one cause of
+sorrow; another was that, in spite of the effort of years, he had not in
+fact become a Parisian. He had succeeded in approaching the type very
+nearly; nevertheless, though his card might proclaim him "Monsieur" and
+imply its owner to the Gallic manner born, the truth remained that he
+was not so born. His language, by dint of effort, aided by native
+talent, had become almost as easy and as idiomatic as the enunciations
+of those who formed the world in which he dwelt, yet he was poignantly
+aware that therein was still to be detected an echo of the twang of his
+youth and of his native tongue. His surname, too, as a stumbling block
+to his friends, was a source of vexation. Had he been born a Dobbins, a
+mere apostrophe would have made him a d'Obbins and content. But the
+uncompromising appellation of his ancestors refused to lend itself to a
+fraud, though venial, and even ennobling, and thus remained a source of
+repining; a gentle regret that his cognomen was not more fitting to his
+environment. But as to his name received in baptism, therewith was
+connected a grief so deep and a dread so great, that it was, perhaps,
+the most baleful of his closeted skeletons. Fortune having so far
+enabled Monsieur to hide the sorrow connected with his Christian name,
+let us also leave the matter to fortune.
+
+To enumerate all the grievances of our philosopher would be a tedious
+task, but there was one of such magnitude that it may be regarded as the
+great grievance of his existence. This was Christianity.
+
+That earnest conviction of the truth of orthodox Christianity should
+incite to propagandism is easily comprehensible. A reasonable sinner
+will not complain of the believer's desire to save errant souls; indeed,
+he may well be amazed that the believer engages in any other occupation.
+But why the rage for proselytizing should inspire the non-believer is
+less obvious. Why should the heathen rage because the zealot is deluded
+by hope and his eyes deceived by the cheering illusions offered by
+faith? If the rough road of the Christian wayfarer, its gloomy valleys
+and dark caverns are smoothed and illumined by the cheering light of
+conviction, why should the skeptic object, and beckon the fervent
+pilgrim from his chosen path to that broader and more alluring road
+selected by himself? Can it be that, like a boy who fears the coming
+darkness, the skeptic craves companionship, suspecting hobgoblins after
+sunset?
+
+Monsieur Claghorn was indignant that the world, as he knew it, either
+professed a more or less orthodox belief in God, or cared nothing about
+the matter. Both attitudes aroused his ire.
+
+"My dear Claghorn," urged his connexion, the Marquise de Fleury, "why
+not leave these matters to Pere Martin, as I do? I assure you it is
+comforting," and the little matron shrugged her rather sharp
+shoulder-blades and nestled more snugly in the corner of her blue-silk
+sofa.
+
+"It is degrading to the intellect."
+
+"Ah! The intellect--I have none; I am all soul."
+
+"You--the brightest woman in Paris!"
+
+"Too broad, _mon ami_. Exaggeration destroys the delicate flavor of a
+compliment."
+
+"Louise, you are in a bad humor. Evidently, you don't like your gown."
+
+"The gown is ravishing, as you should have seen before this. It is you,
+my friend, who are angry. To what end? Angry at nothing? That is
+foolish. Angry at something? Considering that that Something is God----"
+
+"There you have it,--fear. Women rule men through their passions; and
+priests rule women through their fears."
+
+"_Eh bien!_ Have it so. You deny God. It is daring--splendid--but what
+do you gain, what do you gain, _mon ami_?"
+
+"I deny your impossible God, and in so doing, I retain my self-respect."
+
+"A valuable possession, doubtless. Yet the fact remains that you fight
+windmills, or you fight the power that loosens the hurricane. Futile
+warfare!"
+
+Monsieur shrugged his shoulders. A woman's argument is rarely worthy the
+attention of a philosopher.
+
+"Behold," continued the little Marquise, "behold Pere Martin. He is
+good; he is wise. What has he to gain? Only heaven. He sacrifices much
+on earth--pleasure, dignity, power----"
+
+"He has more power than a king----"
+
+"Listen, my friend, and do not interrupt. If he has power over me and
+such as I--which is what you mean--he uses it discreetly, kindly. I
+enjoy life, I hope for heaven. You enjoy life, of heaven you have no
+hope. Which of us is wise?"
+
+"You believe because you think it safer."
+
+"_Dame, mon ami!_ It costs nothing."
+
+"It is cowardly."
+
+"Ah, well, my friend, I am a coward. Let us discuss something less
+gruesome. This charming Natalie! You will let her come to me, now that
+she is to leave the barbarians?"
+
+"I, too, am a coward. I fear Pere Martin."
+
+"Believe me, my friend," said the Marquise, more seriously than she had
+yet spoken, "you do wrong. Women need religion. They must adore; they
+must sacrifice themselves to the object of their worship. As a rule they
+have a choice. They may worship God or they may worship Love. To one or
+the other they will devote themselves or miss their destiny. Which is
+less dangerous?"
+
+"There is danger everywhere," replied the philosopher, discontentedly.
+"But, indeed, Louise, this matter is more serious to me, the unbeliever,
+than to you, the Christian. You Latins do not comprehend the reverence
+we of a different race assign to principle. I think it wrong, immoral,
+to expose my daughter to an atmosphere of falsehood."
+
+"Monsieur, you are unjust to us Latins; and worse, you are impolite."
+
+"I am serious. I think Christianity the curse of mankind."
+
+"And you object to it. That is magnanimous."
+
+"Natalie has been left in total ignorance of all religion."
+
+"Charming--but hardly _de rigueur_ for a de Fleury."
+
+"She is a Claghorn."
+
+"An excellent thing to be; enviable indeed, my dear,--in America. But
+she will be a Parisienne; we hope a de Fleury, of a house by inheritance
+religious. The wife of the Marquis de Fleury must uphold the family
+traditions. Do you not see, my friend, that it is thirty generations of
+nobles that insist."
+
+Monsieur Claghorn, though in doubt as to God, believed in the
+generations. He had long looked forward to the time when his daughter
+should be united to the last scion of this ancient race. True, the
+title was in these days purely ornamental; but, though a philosopher, he
+was not of that unwise class which can see no value in adornment. He
+suspected that the noble Marquis, whose coronet he craved for his
+daughter, as well as his mama, the little lady to whom he was talking,
+were in truth as much interested in the material as in the spiritual
+attributes of the future mother of the race, but he was also aware that
+there were other influences to be considered.
+
+"Perhaps Pere Martin is even more insistent than the thirty
+generations," he suggested.
+
+"Even so, my friend; when Pere Martin insists it is my conscience that
+insists."
+
+"After all, Louise, this discussion is premature. Adolphe is still at
+St. Cyr, Natalie at school----"
+
+"But to-day we prepare for to-morrow. Adolphe will soon be a lieutenant,
+your daughter a woman. Let her come to me. Our prayers, those of Pere
+Martin and mine, cannot harm her."
+
+"Assuredly not, still----"
+
+"But my good pagan, do you intend to refuse? Is it worth nothing to your
+daughter to be introduced by the Marquise de Fleury?"
+
+It was worth so much that M. Claghorn had no intention of refusing. "And
+Adolphe?" he asked.
+
+"Will remain at St. Cyr. Fear nothing, my friend. I shall do nothing in
+that matter without consulting you."
+
+"You are always kind. It shall be as you wish." And then, after some
+further indifferent conversation, the Marquise was by M. Claghorn handed
+to her carriage for a promenade in the Bois; while the philosopher,
+after that act of courtesy, left her to visit La Duchesne, a fashionable
+seeress, who prophesied as to the course of stocks.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+TWO PAGANS DISCUSS FISH, PARIS AND THE HIGHER CRITICISM.
+
+
+It was midsummer. The Marquise was in Brittany, Monsieur in Germany; or,
+as Madame de Fleury patriotically expressed it, among the barbarians, he
+having penetrated into barbaric wilds in order to reclaim his daughter,
+whose education, for the past two years, had been progressing under
+barbaric auspices.
+
+There is, not far from Heidelberg, and in that part of the country of
+the barbarians known as the Odenwald, a quaint village called
+Forellenbach; and hard by the village, which is clustered against a
+steep hill-side, there dashes in cascades that foam and roar, a stream,
+from the dark pools whereof are drawn trout, which, by the excellent
+host of the Red-Ox are served hot, in a sauce compounded of white wine
+and butter; and these things render the place forever memorable to him
+who loves fish or scenery, or both.
+
+Monsieur Claghorn and his daughter were seated in the garden of the
+Red-Ox. They had arrived at the inn in a carriage, being on their way to
+Heidelberg. From Natalie's school they had journeyed by rail to Bad
+Homburg; and from that resort, having despatched the girl's maid ahead
+by train, they had commenced a mode of travel which Natalie secretly
+hoped would not end as soon as had been originally anticipated; for the
+trip thus far had been the most delightful experience of her life.
+
+There were reasons for this delight besides the joy derived from driving
+in pleasant weather, over smooth roads, through curious villages, beside
+winding rivers whose vineclad hills echoed the raftsman's song; beneath
+the trees of many a forest, passing often the ruins of some grim keep,
+which silently told to the girl its story of the time that, being past,
+was a time of romance when life was more beautiful, more innocent, less
+sordid than now. Not that Natalie knew much of the unpleasing features
+of modern life, or of any life (else had her self-made pictures of other
+days borne a different aspect), still the past had its attraction for
+her, as it has for all that love to dream; and from her Baedeker she had
+derived just enough information to form the basis of many a tender scene
+that had never taken place, in days that never were or could have been.
+Her dreams were not wholly of the past, but of the future as well; all
+impossible and as charming as innocence and imagination could paint
+them. School was behind her, her face toward France, a home fireside,
+liberty and happiness for all time to come. No vision of the days in
+which she had not lived could be more alluring than the visions of the
+days in which she was to live, nor more delusive.
+
+Beverley Claghorn looking upon his daughter, perhaps, also saw a
+visionary future. He loved her, of course. He respected her, too, for
+had not her mother been of the ancient House of Fleury? It was no
+ignoble blood which lent the damask tint to cheeks upon which he gazed
+with complacent responsibility for their being. The precious fluid,
+coursing beneath the fair skin, if carefully analyzed, should exhibit
+corpuscles tinged with royal azure. For, was it not true that a
+demoiselle of her mother's line had been, in ancient days, graciously
+permitted to bear a son to a king of France, from which son a noble
+House had sprung with the proud privilege of that bar sinister which
+proclaimed its glory? These were facts well worthy to be the foundation
+of a vision in which he saw the maid before him a wife of one of the old
+noblesse; a mother of sons who would uphold the sacred cause of
+Legitimacy, as their ancestors (including himself, for he was a furious
+Legitimist) had done before them. It would solace the dreaded status of
+grandfather.
+
+"What are you thinking of, Natalie?" he asked in French.
+
+"Of many things; principally that I am sorry he showed them to us."
+
+"The trout?"
+
+"Yes, I am so hungry."
+
+"They have sharpened your appetite. They are beautiful fish."
+
+"I'm glad they haven't spoiled it. Why, papa, they were alive! Did you
+see their gills palpitate?"
+
+"They are very dead now."
+
+"And we shall eat them. It seems a pity."
+
+He laughed. "Grief will not prevent your enjoyment," he said; "you will
+have a double luxury--of woe, and----"
+
+"You are ashamed of my capacity for eating, papa. It is very
+unromantic."
+
+Papa smiled, raising his eyelids slightly. He seemed, and in fact was, a
+little bored. "Haven't we had enough of this?" he asked.
+
+"But we haven't had any yet."
+
+"I don't mean trout--I only hope they won't be drowned in bad butter--I
+mean of this," and he lazily stretched his arms, indicating the
+Odenwald.
+
+She sighed. Her secret hope that the journey by carriage might be
+extended further than planned was waning. "I was never so happy in my
+life," she exclaimed. "I shall never forget the pine-forests, the hills,
+the castles; nor the geese in the villages; nor the horrible little
+cobblestones----"
+
+"Nor the sour wine----"
+
+"That is your French taste, papa. The _vin du pays_ is no better in
+France. The wine is good enough, if you pay enough."
+
+"The Luetzelsachser is drinkable, the Affenthaler even good," admitted
+Monsieur, indulgent to barbaric vintage; "but think of yesterday!"
+
+"Think of an epicure who expected to get Affenthaler in that poor little
+village! They gave you the best they had."
+
+"Which was very bad." He laughed good-naturedly. "I dread a similar
+experience if we continue this method of travel."
+
+"I could travel this way forever and forever!" She sighed and extended
+her arms, then clasped her hands upon her breast. It was an unaffected
+gesture of youth and pleasure and enthusiasm.
+
+It made him smile. "Wait until you have seen Paris," he said.
+
+"But I have seen Paris."
+
+"With the eyes of a child; now you are a woman."
+
+"That is so," somewhat dreamily, as though this womanhood were no new
+subject of reverie. "I am eighteen--but why should Paris be especially
+attractive to a woman?"
+
+"Paris is the world."
+
+"And so is this."
+
+"This, my dear----" the remonstrance on his lips was interrupted by the
+arrival of the fish.
+
+They were very good: "_Ravissant!_" exclaimed Natalie, who displayed a
+very pitiless appreciation of them. "Not so bad," admitted papa.
+
+"And so I am to stay with my cousin, the Marquise," said the girl, after
+the cravings of an excellent appetite had been satisfied. "Papa, even
+you can find no fault with this Deidesheimer," filling her glass as she
+spoke.
+
+"With your cousin for a time, anyhow. It is very kind of her, and for
+you nothing better could be wished. She sees the best world of Paris."
+
+"And as I remember, is personally very nice."
+
+"A charming woman--with a fault. She is devout."
+
+"I have known some like her," observed Natalie. "There was Fraeulein
+Rothe, our drawing-mistress, a dear old lady, but very religious."
+
+"I hope none of them attempted to influence you in such matters," he
+said, frowning slightly.
+
+"No. It was understood that you had expressly forbidden it. I was left
+out of the religious classes; they called me 'The Pagan.'"
+
+"No harm in that," commented Monsieur rather approvingly.
+
+"Oh, no! It was all in good-nature. The Pagan was a favorite. But, of
+course, I have had some curiosity. I have read a little of the Bible."
+She made her confession shyly, as though anticipating reproach.
+
+"There is no objection to that," he said. "At your age you should have a
+mind of your own. Use it and I have no fear as to the result. My view is
+that in leaving you uninfluenced I have done my duty much more fully
+than if I had early impressed upon you ideas which I think pernicious,
+and which only the strongest minds can cast aside in later life. What
+impression has your Bible reading left?"
+
+"The Jews of the Old Testament were savages, and their book is
+unreadable for horrors. The Gospel narratives seem written by men of
+another race. The character of Jesus is very noble. He must have lived,
+for he could not have been invented by Jews. Of course, he was not God,
+but I don't wonder that his followers thought so."
+
+"He was a Great Philosopher," answered Monsieur Claghorn with high
+approval. "The incarnation of pure stoicism, realizing the ideal more
+truly than even Seneca or Marcus. And what of the literary quality of
+the book?"
+
+"The gospels are equal to the Vicar of Wakefield or Paul and Virginia.
+As to the rest," she shrugged her shoulders after the French
+fashion--"Revelation was written by a maniac."
+
+"Or a modern poet," observed the gentleman.
+
+Now while these latest exponents of the Higher Criticism were thus
+complacently settling the literary standing of Luke and John, placing
+them on as high a level as that attained by Goldsmith and St. Pierre,
+the man smoking and the girl sipping wine (for the fish had been
+devoured and their remains removed), two persons came into the garden.
+They carried knapsacks and canes, wore heavy shoes, were dusty and
+travel-stained. The elder of the pair had the clerical aspect; the youth
+was simply a very handsome fellow of twenty or thereabout, somewhat
+provincial in appearance.
+
+Beverley Claghorn glanced at the pair, and with an almost imperceptible
+shrug of the shoulders, which, if it referred to the newcomers, was not
+complimentary, continued to smoke without remark. The girl was more
+curious.
+
+"They are English," she said.
+
+"Americans," he answered, with a faint shade of disapproval in his
+tone.
+
+"But so are we," she remonstrated, noting the tone.
+
+"We can't help it," he replied, resenting one of his grievances. "You
+can hardly be called one."
+
+"Is it disgraceful?"
+
+"Not at all; but I don't flaunt it."
+
+"But, papa, surely you are not ashamed of it?"
+
+"Certainly not. But it is a little tiresome. Our countrymen are so
+oppressively patriotic. They demand of you that you glory in your
+nativity. I don't. I am not proud of it. I shouldn't be proud of being
+an Englishman, or a Frenchman, or an Italian, or----"
+
+"In fact, papa, you are not proud at all."
+
+"Natalie," proceeded the philosopher, not noticing the interruption,
+"one may be well-disposed toward the country of one's birth; one may
+even recognize the duty of fighting, if need be, for its institutions.
+But the pretence of believing in one's country, of fulsome adoration for
+imperfect institutions, is to welcome intellectual slavery, to surrender
+to the base instinct of fetichism."
+
+"Like religion," she said, recognizing the phrase.
+
+"Like religion," he assented. "You will find when you are as old as I am
+that I am right."
+
+"Yet people do believe in religion. There's Fraeulein Rothe----"
+
+"Natalie, no reasoning being can believe what is called Christianity,
+but many beings think that they believe."
+
+"But why don't they discover that they don't think what they think they
+think?"
+
+"There's nothing strange in that. When they were young they were told
+that they believed, and have grown up with that conviction. The same
+people would scorn to accept a new and incredible story on the evidence
+which is presented in favor of the Christian religion."
+
+The girl sighed as though the paternal wisdom was somewhat
+unsatisfactory. Meantime the slight raising of Monsieur's voice had
+attracted the attention of the dusty wayfarers who, in default of other
+occupation, took to observing the pair.
+
+"She is very pretty," said the youth.
+
+The elder did not answer. He was intently scrutinizing Beverley
+Claghorn. After a moment of hesitation he surprised his companion by
+rising and approaching that person with outstretched hand.
+
+"I cannot be mistaken," he exclaimed in a loud, hearty voice. "This is a
+Claghorn."
+
+"That is my name," replied the would-be Gallic owner of the appellation
+in English. "I have the honor of seeing----" but even as he uttered the
+words he recognized the man who was now shaking a somewhat reluctant
+hand with gushing heartiness.
+
+"I am Jared. You remember me, of course. I see it in your eyes. And so
+this is really you--Eliphalet! 'Liph, as we called you at the old Sem.
+'Liph, I am as glad to see you as a mother a long-lost son."
+
+"And I," replied the other, "am charmed." He bore it smiling, though his
+daughter looked on in wonder, and he felt that the secret of his baptism
+had been heartlessly disclosed.
+
+"This," said Jared, "is my son, Leonard," and while the son grew red and
+bowed, the clergyman looked at the girl to whom his son's bow had been
+principally directed.
+
+"My daughter, Natalie de Fleury-Claghorn," said her father. "My dear,
+this is my cousin, Professor Claghorn, whom I have not seen for many
+years."
+
+"Not since we were students together at Hampton Theological Seminary,"
+added Jared, smilingly. He habitually indulged in a broad smile that
+indicated satisfaction with things as he found them. It was very broad
+now, as he offered his hand, saying, "And so you are 'Liph's daughter,
+and your name is Natalidaflurry--that must be French. And your mother,
+my dear, I hope----"
+
+"My wife has been dead since my daughter's birth," interrupted Monsieur,
+"and I," he added, "long ago discarded my baptismal name and assumed
+that of my mother."
+
+"Discarded the old name!" exclaimed the Reverend Jared, surprised. "Had
+I been aware of that, I surely would have given it to Leonard. I
+regarded it, as in some sort, the property of the elder branch. Surely,
+you don't call yourself Susan?"
+
+"My mother's name was Susan Beverley; I assumed her family name." The
+philosopher uttered the words with a suavity that did him credit. Then,
+apologetically, and in deference to his cousin's evident grief: "You
+see, Eliphalet was somewhat of a mouthful for Frenchmen."
+
+"And so the old name has fallen into disuse," murmured Jared
+regretfully. "We must revive it. Leonard, upon you----"
+
+But Leonard had taken Natalie to look at the cascades.
+
+So, lighting fresh cigars, the two former fellow-students commenced a
+revival of old memories. Their discourse, especially on the part of the
+clergyman, contained frequent allusion to family history, which to the
+reader would be both uninteresting and incomprehensible. But, since some
+knowledge of that history is requisite to the due understanding of the
+tale that is to be told, the respected personage indicated is now
+invited to partake of that knowledge.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+A COUSIN IN THE COILS OF THE GREAT SERPENT.
+
+
+Professor and the Reverend Jared Claghorn has already intimated that the
+name Eliphalet was an honored one in the family. An Eliphalet Claghorn
+had been a man of mark among the Pilgrims. His eldest son had borne his
+parent's name and had succeeded to the clerical vocation; an example
+which he had imposed upon his own first-born, and thus became
+established the custom of giving to a son of each Eliphalet the name of
+his father, in the pleasing hope that he who bore the revered
+appellation might be called to serve in the Lord's fold, as shepherd of
+the flock; which hope had generally been realized. In due course that
+Eliphalet who was destined to beget Beverley had been called, had
+answered the summons, and at the birth of his only son, had, with
+confident expectation of a similar call to the latter, named his name
+"Eliphalet."
+
+In time the call was heard. The youth, fully assured that he, like the
+ancestral Eliphalets, would find his field of labor in the vineyard of
+God, had gone so far in acceptance of his solemn duty as to enter the
+well-known Theological Seminary at Hampton, there to fit himself for the
+only future he had ever contemplated.
+
+Then a shock had come,--a great legacy from one of two California
+brothers, both long given up as dead. From the moment this fortune came
+into his possession, the father of Beverley Claghorn, always a stern and
+gloomy man, the product of a ruthless creed, knew no day of peace. He
+craved worldly distinction--not the pleasures which beckoned his
+son--with a craving which only a starved nature with powers fitting to
+the world can know. On the other hand, a rigid sense of duty, perhaps,
+too, the gloomy joy of martyrdom, urged him to reject a temptation which
+he persuaded himself was offered by the Prince of Darkness. He remained
+outwardly true to his duty, an unhappy soldier at the post assigned
+him, and died as his fathers had died, in the odor of sanctity; in his
+heart hankering to the last for the joys offered by the world to him who
+has wealth, and to the last sternly rejecting them.
+
+Secretly, though with bitter self-condemnation, he had approved his
+son's renunciation of the theological course. Not with his lips. It was
+impossible for him, stubbornly believing, as he had always believed,
+though now with the frequent doubts and fears of the new standpoint he
+occupied, to openly approve the intentions displayed by the youth. Yet
+he acquiesced in silence, secretly hoping to see the son, who had
+commenced the study of the law, a power in the State. That he was never
+to see, and it was well that he died before the renegade Eliphalet had
+extinguished such hope by voluntary exile.
+
+Beverley's history, or at least that portion of it which he chose to
+impart, was told in reply to the eager questioning of Jared. Perhaps he
+was not sorry that his old fellow-student should note his air of man of
+fashion and aristocrat, and he set forth the renown of the de Fleury
+lineage, innocently shocking his cousin by explaining the meaning and
+glory of that bar sinister, which he himself revered.
+
+Jared, on his part, narrated at much greater length than his auditor
+sympathetically appreciated, the history of his own life. He, too, had
+married brilliantly--a Morley, as he informed his cousin, and one who,
+dying, had left him well endowed with this world's goods, and it may be
+that it was by reason of this fact, as well as because of superior
+attainments, that the speaker had developed into a teacher in that same
+seminary where the two had been fellow-students.
+
+"Yes," he said in a tone of satisfaction, "I hold down the chair of
+Biblical Theology in Hampton. You would hardly recognize the old Sem,
+El--Beverley."
+
+"I suppose not. I shall make a flying trip there some day."
+
+"A flying trip! Surely you don't intend to abandon your country
+forever?"
+
+"Not unlikely. You see, I am more of a Frenchman than anything else, and
+my daughter is quite French."
+
+"She speaks English?"
+
+"Oh, as to that, as well as anybody. She has been largely educated in
+England. But her relatives, I mean those that she knows, look upon her
+as belonging wholly to them, and----"
+
+"I trust she is not a Romanist, Cousin."
+
+"You mean a Catholic. Make your mind easy; she is not."
+
+"I truly rejoice to hear it," exclaimed Jared with fervor. "But I might
+have known," he added apologetically, "that a Claghorn would not suffer
+the perversion of his child." Whereat Monsieur changed the topic.
+
+Meanwhile, the young ones of the party had gone to investigate an echo
+in a glen hard by, directed thereto by the host of the Red-Ox. They were
+conducted by a stolid maiden, told off for that purpose, a fact which
+Monsieur Claghorn, from his place in the garden, noted with
+satisfaction.
+
+Freed from the restraint of the presence of the philosopher, whose
+raiment and bearing had inspired him with awe, Leonard's engaging
+simplicity and frank manner added to the favorable impression of his
+beautiful face.
+
+The charms of nature about them were attractive to both and it was easy
+to become acquainted, with so much of interest in common. The girl's
+enthusiasm, somewhat dampened by the philosopher, returned in the
+presence of a sympathetic listener, and she told the tale of their
+wanderings, concluding by expressing the opinion that Germany must be
+the most delightful of all countries.
+
+"This part is fine," said Leonard. "But wait until you see the Black
+Forest."
+
+"I hope to see it when we leave Heidelberg. Is the wine good?"
+
+"I don't know," was the answer. "I didn't drink any wine."
+
+"It must be very bad if you wouldn't drink it," she observed
+despondently. "Papa scolds about the wine of the Bergstrasse, which, for
+my part, I find very good. Then, at the better inns one isn't confined
+to the vintage of the neighborhood."
+
+"Surely, you don't drink wine!" exclaimed Leonard.
+
+"Not drink wine! What should I do with it?"
+
+"It biteth like a serpent and stingeth like an adder," he quoted
+gravely, not at all priggishly. He was sincere in his confidence in
+Solomon, and his surprise and sorrow were honest.
+
+"Wine does!" she laughed. "I never knew that before. Don't Americans
+drink wine?"
+
+"Some do," he admitted. "Our best people do not drink. We think the
+example bad."
+
+"_Par example!_ And how do your best people manage at dinner?"
+
+"With water."
+
+"Decidedly, I should not like dining with your best people."
+
+"But, Cousin Natalie--that is a very pretty name;" here he blushed
+engagingly--"wine makes one drunk."
+
+"Certainly, if one gets drunk."
+
+"Then, how can you drink wine?"
+
+The question and the serious manner of its asking were incomprehensible
+to the girl, who laughed at the incongruity of the ideas suggested by
+drinking wine on the one hand, and getting drunk on the other. Then the
+subject was dropped; perhaps they recognized that it was enveloped in
+clouds of misunderstanding which were impenetrable.
+
+The glen in which dwells the echo of Forellenbach is like a roofless
+cave, or a great well with a side entrance. Its floor being wet, Natalie
+remained at the entrance, trusting there to hear whatever might be worth
+hearing. Leonard passed into the well.
+
+He looked back. She stood in the light, smiling upon this new-found
+cousin, who had such strange ideas as to wine, but withal, her eyes were
+kindly. If either had any premonition of the future, it must have been
+false or partial, or they had not faced each other smiling. He had
+intended to shout aloud her pretty name and thus to test the echo; but
+instinct warned him that this was hardly fitting. So, perhaps, with a
+vague desire to connect her with the trial, he compromised, and the word
+he shouted was "Claghorn."
+
+It was returned to him in various modulations from all sides. The
+effect was startling, but even more so were the words that fell upon his
+ear as the echoes died away: "Who are you, and what do you want?"
+
+The question came from above. Leonard, looking upward, saw the face of a
+youth who, from the top of the cliff, was peering down. Upon the head of
+this person, rakishly worn, was a blue cap, braided with silver and red
+velvet. The face had penetrating eyes, rather stern, and a mouth shaded
+by a dark moustache. The question was repeated, it seemed to Leonard
+truculently: "What do you want?"
+
+The words were German, but easily understood. Leonard answered in
+English: "I don't want you."
+
+"Then, why did you call me?" Now the words were English and the tone
+awakened Leonard's resentment. "Do you suppose that every one that tries
+the echo is calling you?" he asked.
+
+"You called me. Why?"
+
+Leonard labored under the disadvantage of hearing all that was said
+repeated many times. It was irritating; nor was the tone of the other
+pacific. It was even war-like. "I didn't address you," he said. "I do
+now: Be silent!"
+
+The other laughed. "_Bist ein dummer Junge_, my son," he said. "I
+suppose you are a student. Get your card."
+
+He disappeared, evidently with a view of intercepting Leonard who,
+emerging from the cave, met him almost at Natalie's side.
+
+The newcomer was surprised to see the girl. "I beg your pardon," he
+said, removing his cap; then, aside to Leonard: "I will accept your card
+on another occasion, if you prefer. You are a student of Heidelberg, I
+suppose?"
+
+"I am a student, certainly, of Hampton, in the United States. I have no
+card. My name is Claghorn."
+
+The sternness of the newcomer gave place to astonishment. "I beg your
+pardon, and your sister's," he said, glancing at Natalie. "My name
+happens to be the same. Naturally, I supposed----"
+
+"The place seems to be alive with Claghorns," exclaimed Leonard.
+
+"And since you are from Hampton, I believe we are related," continued
+the newcomer. "Cousins, I suppose. You can't be Professor Claghorn?"
+
+"I can be, and am, his son," laughed Leonard. "You are the third cousin
+I have found to-day."
+
+By this time the two elders had joined the party. Monsieur Claghorn had
+deemed it advisable, for his daughter's sake, to follow her footsteps.
+The Reverend Jared, accompanying him, heard Leonard's words. "A cousin!"
+he exclaimed, looking inquiringly at the stranger who made the claim,
+and ready gushingly to welcome him.
+
+"I think so," answered the stranger, smiling. "My father was Joseph
+Claghorn, of San Francisco."
+
+"He's your first cousin, 'Liph," exclaimed the Reverend Jared,
+hesitating no longer, but grasping the unoffered hand of the son of
+Joseph. Then he added in an awestruck voice, "You must be the owner of
+the Great Serpent?"
+
+"I am in its coils," replied the young man with a half sigh.
+
+"Wonderful!" ejaculated Jared, and then glibly plunged into a
+genealogical disquisition for the general benefit, the result of which
+was that Claghorn, the son of Joseph, and in the coils of the Great
+Serpent, stood demonstrated as the first cousin of Beverley, the second
+of Natalie, the third of himself and the fourth of Leonard. The
+professorial fluency had the good effect of creating enough hilarity to
+dissipate constraint; and its cordiality embraced all present in a
+circle of amity, whether they would or not.
+
+But there was no indication of reluctance to cousinly recognition.
+Monsieur saw sufficient comedy in the situation to amuse him, nor was he
+oblivious of the fascinations of the Great Serpent, which reptile was a
+mine, known by repute to all present, and the source of Monsieur's
+wealth, for that inheritance that had changed the course of his life had
+been thence derived. The dead brother of the now dead Eliphalet had left
+his share of the mine to Joseph, his partner, but had divided his
+savings between Eliphalet and a sister, Achsah by name. The son of
+Joseph, and owner of the Great Serpent, must be in the eyes of anybody
+the acceptable person he was in the eyes of Monsieur Claghorn, the more
+so as he was thoroughly presentable, being handsome, well dressed, and
+with rather more of the air of a man of the world than was usual in one
+of his years, which might be twenty-one.
+
+"We have not learned your Christian name," said Jared, after
+acquaintance had been established and the youth had been duly informed
+of much family history. "I hope your parents named you Eliphalet,"
+glancing, not without reproach, at the actual owner of that appellation.
+
+"They spared me that infliction," answered the newcomer, laughing,
+"though they hit me pretty hard. My name is Mark"; then, perhaps noting
+the faint flush upon the cheek of one of the members of the group, "I
+beg pardon; I should have been more respectful of a respectable family
+name, which may be borne by some one of you."
+
+"Nobody bears it; you are to be congratulated," observed Monsieur
+firmly. The Reverend Jared looked grieved, but said nothing.
+
+Mark Claghorn informed his auditors--there was no escaping the
+examination of the Professor--that he was a student at Heidelberg, that
+his mother sojourned there with him, that she was a widow, with an
+adopted daughter, a distant connexion, named Paula; and having learned
+that the entire party was bound for that city he expressed the hope that
+all these wandering offshoots of the Claghorn family might there meet
+and become better acquainted.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+THE DIVERSIONS OF THE CLAGHORNS.
+
+
+A good-humored widow, fair, and if mature, not old, and with the
+allurement of the possession of boundless wealth; two lovely maids; a
+brace of well-disposed young men, of whom one was strikingly beautiful
+and guileless, the other less comely as less innocent, yet in these
+respects not deficient, and the heir of millions; finally, a genial
+theologian and a philosopher, summer and Heidelberg--given these
+components and it must be confessed that the impromptu reunion of the
+Claghorns promised present enjoyment and gratifying memories for the
+future. The various members of the clan acted as if they so believed and
+were content. There were moments, indeed, when the genial Jared was
+moved to bewail the absence of Miss Achsah Claghorn, as being the only
+notable member of the family not present. The philosopher admitted a
+youthful acquaintance with the lady in question, who was his aunt, and
+echoed the Professor's eulogy, but evinced resignation. To the others,
+except to Leonard, who had evidently been taught to revere Miss Achsah,
+she was personally unknown, hence the loss occasioned by her absence was
+by them unfelt.
+
+"She is greatly exercised just now," observed Jared, "by an event which
+possesses interest for all of us, and which ought to especially interest
+you, 'Liph."
+
+"Salvation for the heathen by means of moral pocket handkerchiefs?"
+drawled the philosopher, secretly annoyed by the clergyman's persistent
+use of his discarded Christian name.
+
+"_She_ says a sacrilegious scheme; nothing short of the desecration of
+your namesake's grave," retorted the Professor.
+
+The party was grouped on the great terrace of the castle, against the
+balustrade of which the clergyman leaned as he addressed his audience
+with somewhat of the air of a lecturer, an aspect which was emphasized
+by his use of a letter which he had drawn from his pocket, and to which
+he pointed with his long forefinger.
+
+"You are all doubtless aware," he observed, "that Miss Achsah is the
+sister of the late Reverend Eliphalet Claghorn, father of our cousin and
+friend here present" (indicating Monsieur, who bowed to the speaker),
+"and, as the sister of your deceased husband, Mrs. Joseph, she is your
+sister-in-law."
+
+The lady smilingly assented to a proposition indisputable, and which
+probably contained no element of novelty to her; while Jared informed
+Mark and Natalie that the writer of the letter in his hand was aunt to
+the youth and great-aunt to the maiden. "She is also cousin to me, and
+in a further remove to Leonard," and having thus defined the status of
+Miss Claghorn, he proceeded to explain that he had reminded his hearers
+of the facts for the reason that the matter concerning which the lady's
+letter treated was of interest to all present, "except to you, my dear,"
+he added sympathizingly to Paula, "you not being a Claghorn."
+
+"We compassionate you, Mademoiselle," observed the philosopher to the
+damsel, "and I am sure," he added in a lower tone, "you are sorry for
+us." To which, Paula, who did not quite understand the philosopher,
+responded only with a smile and a blush.
+
+"Miss Achsah's letter," continued the Professor, ignoring the by-play,
+and addressing Mrs. Joe, is dated two months since, and runs thus:
+
+"'I wrote in my last of the strange events taking place in Easthampton.
+At that time there were only rumors; now there are facts to go upon. The
+tract given by our ancestor to the Lord is at this moment the property
+of a New York lawyer. You know that I long ago tried to buy the tomb and
+was refused. The trustees assure me that it will not be desecrated, that
+the purchaser promised of his own accord that the sacred dust should not
+be disturbed. I told them that they might advantageously take lessons in
+reverence from the lawyer, so there is a coolness between the trustees
+and myself.' (I am really very sorry for that," muttered the reader
+parenthetically)----
+
+"As I understand," interrupted Mrs. Joe, "the land was owned by the
+Seminary, and the Seminary which is now in Hampton was to have been
+built upon it. Is that what my sister-in-law means by saying it was
+given to the Lord?"
+
+"Her view is not exactly correct," replied the Professor. "I am myself
+one of the trustees. Possibly, Eliphalet Claghorn hoped that the
+Seminary would eventually be erected upon the land he gave toward its
+foundation. Evidently his successors, the fathers of the church,
+preferred Hampton to Easthampton."
+
+"In those days Easthampton was a busy mart of trade--they _do_ say the
+slave trade," observed the philosopher. "Hampton, as a secluded village,
+not liable to incursions of enslaved heathen, godless sailors or godly
+traders, was better fitted for pious and scholastic meditation, and----"
+
+"Now the conditions are reversed," interrupted Jared; "Hampton is a
+considerable city, Easthampton a quiet suburb."
+
+"Does Miss Achsah say what the lawyer intends to do with his purchase?"
+asked Mrs. Joe.
+
+"No doubt he represents a concealed principal," suggested the
+philosopher, "probably a rival institution--a Jesuit College."
+
+Jared turned pale. "You don't really suppose, 'Liph--but, no! I am sure
+my co-trustees could not be taken in."
+
+Mrs. Joe cast a reproachful glance at the philosopher. "Miss Achsah
+would surely have detected a Jesuit plot had there been one," she
+observed encouragingly. "But why is she so indignant?"
+
+"She has long wanted to purchase the ground about the tomb," replied
+Jared. "Naturally, she feels aggrieved that it will come into the hands
+of a stranger. The trustees, to my knowledge, tried to retain it, with
+the rest of the waste ground, and to sell only the old wharves and
+houses, but the lawyer insisted; in fact, paid a high price for the
+waste land which includes the grave."
+
+"Mysterious, if not Jesuitical," murmured Beverley; but the clergyman
+affected not to hear.
+
+"Has Miss Achsah no knowledge of the intentions of the purchaser?" asked
+the lady.
+
+"This is what she says," answered the Professor, consulting the letter:
+
+"'The trustees conceal the purpose for which the land is wanted, but I
+forced the information from Hacket when I informed him that, if I so
+desired, I could give the management of my affairs to young Burley. At
+this, Mr. Hacket came down from his high horse and informed me in
+confidence that the lawyer is to build a grand residence at the Point,
+and will spend an immense amount of money. All of which is not
+reassuring, if true. Although the place has been shamefully neglected, I
+was always glad to know that the Tomb was there, solitary amid the
+crags; only the sea-roar breaking the silence. I suppose there will be
+other sounds now, not so pleasant to think about.'"
+
+"Well," observed Mrs. Joe, after a pause, "let us hope that Miss Achsah
+will be reconciled after the lawyer's plans are more fully developed. He
+seems to be willing to respect the tomb."
+
+"What is this tomb?" asked Natalie.
+
+"The Tomb of Eliphalet Claghorn, the first of your race in the New
+World," explained the Professor reverently, and not without a
+reproachful glance at the philosopher, who had too evidently left his
+daughter in ignorance of much family history.
+
+"He came over in the Mayflower," observed Leonard in a low tone to
+Natalie; and then, to his surprise, found it necessary to explain his
+explanation, for which purpose, in company with the girl he strolled
+away.
+
+They paused at a little distance, and leaning upon the stone balustrade,
+looked down upon the town or at the plain beyond, or across the Neckar
+at the hills of the Philosophenweg. Here Leonard told his foreign cousin
+the story of the first Eliphalet.
+
+"A strange story," was her comment.
+
+"A noble story," he corrected.
+
+"All sacrifice is noble. I know a woman in extreme poverty who gave ten
+francs to regild a tawdry statue of the Virgin."
+
+"Deplorable!" exclaimed Leonard severely.
+
+"Pitiful, rather. Consider what the sum was to her! The needs she
+sacrificed--and for what?"
+
+"Sacrifice wasted, and degradingly wasted."
+
+"Wasted, doubtless; but why degradingly?"
+
+"Granted that your poor woman was sincere"--which, however, the speaker
+seemed to grant but grudgingly--"the sacrifice was still degrading in
+that it was made to superstition."
+
+She smiled. "What would my poor woman say of Grandfather Eliphalet?"
+
+"It's a question, you see, of the point of view," observed Mark, who had
+sauntered to where they stood.
+
+"It's a question of truth and falsehood," retorted Leonard a little
+stiffly, and not best pleased with the interruption of the tete-a-tete.
+
+"Do you know the truth?"
+
+"God is truth."
+
+"A truly theological elucidation," said Mark.
+
+"What do you say, Cousin Natalie?" asked Leonard wistfully.
+
+She had been gazing across the plain at the towers of Ladenburg,
+gleaming in the glow of the setting sun. "Can anybody say?" she
+answered. "Look at the plain," she added, stretching forth her hand,
+"these battered walls, the city at our feet. How often have they been
+scorched by fire and soaked in blood; and always in the cause of that
+truth which so many said was false!"
+
+"Rather, because of the schemes of ambitious men," said Leonard.
+
+"The pretext was always religion. Priests always the instigators of the
+wars," said Mark.
+
+"Priests, yes, I grant you----"
+
+"I include those of the Reformation. The bloodiest history of this place
+is its history since the Reformation. The source of its horrors was
+religion, always religion."
+
+"For which reason," retorted Leonard, "you would blame religion, rather
+than the men who made it a cloak to ambition."
+
+"One asks: What is religion?" said Natalie. "Catholics say of Frederick,
+who reigned here, that he was led by ambition to his fall; Protestants,
+that he fell a glorious sacrifice in the cause of truth. Who shall
+judge?"
+
+"False ideas of duty lead to perdition," said Leonard sententiously.
+
+"Which would seem to demonstrate that Frederick was in the wrong,"
+observed Mark. "That may be so, but it hardly lies in the mouth of a
+student of Hampton."
+
+"Of course, I know that Frederick was the Protestant champion," said
+Leonard, annoyed; "but----"
+
+"Yet he lost his cause! How can one know--how do you know the truth?"
+The girl looked up with an eager expression as she asked the question.
+
+"I know because I feel it," he answered in a low tone. They were solemn
+words to him, and as he uttered them a longing to show truth to this
+fair maid arose within him.
+
+"And if one does not know, one cannot feel," murmured Natalie sadly.
+"Catholics, Jews, Protestants, all feel and all know----"
+
+"That the others are all wrong," interjected Mark.
+
+Meanwhile, the others of the party were approaching, the Professor
+expatiating to Paula anent the glories of the Claghorn race; not such
+glories, as he pointed out, as those of which they saw the evidences in
+the effigies of warriors and carved armorial bearings; but higher
+glories, humble deeds on earth, of which the story illuminated the
+celestial record. The dissertation had been commenced for the general
+weal, but the widow and the philosopher had gradually dropped behind,
+leaving Paula alone to derive benefit from the lessons drawn by Cousin
+Jared from the Claghorn history as contrasted with that of the rulers of
+the Palatinate.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+HOW A PAGAN PHILOSOPHER ENTERED THE SERVICE OF THE CHURCH.
+
+
+"I fear you do not sympathize with Miss Achsah," observed the widow to
+her companion.
+
+"In her solicitude for the tomb of Grandfather Eliphalet? No. Reverence
+for my ancestor has diminished with age; my excellent aunt, as befits a
+lady, remains ever young and romantic."
+
+"She ought to appreciate the lawyer's declared intention to respect the
+grave."
+
+"Handsome of the lawyer, who, _du reste_, seems an anomaly."
+
+"How so?"
+
+"He pays an extravagant price for a dreary desert. He volunteers to keep
+a stranger's tomb in repair----"
+
+"Suppose I were to tell you that I am the lawyer who is to build the
+handsome residence."
+
+"I should feel honored by your confidence, and unreservedly put my trust
+in your motives, because they are yours."
+
+"But you are not surprised?"
+
+"Rather deeply interested, and no less solicitous."
+
+"Why solicitous?"
+
+"Because of the incongruity you present as a resident of Easthampton.
+That little town is not merely the sepulchre of Eliphalet Claghorn, but
+the grave of mirth and the social graces. Can I contemplate the
+possibility of your interment without sorrow?"
+
+The gentleman's tone had lapsed into tenderness; the lady smiled. "I
+believe you have not seen the place for many years," she said.
+
+"Nothing has prevented my doing so except my recollection of its
+attractions."
+
+"The ground I intend for a residence," said the lady, "has great
+natural advantages. It faces the ocean, has noble trees----"
+
+"And crags and boulders, a most desolate spot."
+
+"Which a handsome house will adorn and make beautiful. We must live
+somewhere. If we leave California, what better place can we choose than
+the old home of my son's race, where his name has been honored for
+generations? In that region he will not be a new man."
+
+"An old one, assuredly, if he remains there. But he will flee from the
+home of his ancestors. The place is sunk in somnolence; one of those
+country towns that the world has been glad to forget. Rotting wharves, a
+few tumbledown warehouses, and three or four streets, shaded by trees so
+big that even the white houses with their green blinds look gloomy."
+
+"The wharves and warehouses are mine, and are to be pulled down. I like
+the shady streets and the white houses."
+
+"And their inmates?" The philosopher shuddered.
+
+"The Claghorn paragon, Miss Achsah, lives in one of them."
+
+"Ah, Miss Achsah! You do not know Miss Achsah; she superintended my
+boyhood."
+
+"The result is a tribute to her excellence."
+
+The gentleman bowed. "She is a good woman--the personification of Roman
+virtue, adorned with the graces of Calvinism--but, my dear Cousin" (the
+lady was his aunt, if anything), "I put it to you. Is not personified
+virtue most admirable at a distance?"
+
+The lady laughed. "Possibly. But I do not expect to be reduced to
+virtuous society only, even if I am fortunate enough to prove acceptable
+in the eyes of Miss Claghorn. Our Professor assures me that the Hampton
+circle is most agreeable; and Hampton and Easthampton are practically
+one."
+
+"And what a one!" The philosopher shrugged his shoulders in true Gallic
+fashion. "Madame, Hampton is the home of theology--and such theology! It
+is filled with musty professors, their musty wives and awkward and
+conceited boys, in training to become awkward and conceited men.
+Remember, I was one of the horde and know whereof I speak. Think
+seriously, my dear Cousin, before you expose so beautiful a girl as
+Mademoiselle Paula, not to speak of yourself, to such an environment."
+
+The lady remained unmoved, though the gentleman had pleaded eloquently.
+"You are prejudiced," she answered. "Confess that there is no more
+agreeable man than our Cousin Jared; and if his son is a fair specimen
+of Hampton students, they must compare favorably with any others."
+
+"Which would not be saying much. Jared is, doubtless, a good fellow,
+amenable once, but now encrusted with frightfully narrow views. As to
+young Leonard, his extraordinary good looks and amiability render him
+exceptional. It is really a pity that he can't be rescued," and the
+speaker sighed.
+
+A sigh born of a sincere sentiment. Monsieur was at bottom good-natured,
+and it affected him disagreeably to see unusual graces doomed to a
+pulpit or a professorial chair. It was a sad waste of advantages fitted
+for better things. To dedicate to Heaven charms so apt for the world,
+seemed to him foolish, and to the devotee unfair. He felt as may feel a
+generous beauty whose day is past, and who contemplates some blooming
+maid about to enter a nunnery. "Ah! _Si la jeunesse savait_," he
+murmured.
+
+"You will not resolve without deliberation," he pleaded, having rendered
+to Leonard's fate the passing tribute of a sigh. "I dare not venture to
+beg you to wait until after your winter in Paris, but----"
+
+"But, Monsieur, my resolve is fixed, though known only to you. Work is
+already commenced. But I must request you to keep the secret from all,
+including my son. I wish to surprise him."
+
+"Your success is certain. It would be presumptuous to further combat
+your plans; especially"--with a graceful inclination--"since you disarm
+me by honoring me with your confidence."
+
+"I have a reason for that," she said frankly. "I want your aid."
+
+"In self-immolation! Even in that I am at your service."
+
+"My purpose can be explained in a few words," she said, indicating a
+chair near the balustrade, into which the philosopher gracefully sank,
+after bowing the lady into one beside it. "I wish to build a grand
+house. My son's importance in the world is an attribute of his wealth.
+This is not a fact to flaunt, but is to be considered, and one by which
+I am bound to be influenced in contemplating his future."
+
+"A great aid, Madame, in right conduct."
+
+"My son will find it a great responsibility."
+
+"Inheriting, as he does, your sense of duty," suggested the philosopher.
+
+"Precisely. Now, I have planned a career for Mark."
+
+There was a faint movement as of a fleeting smile behind Monsieur's
+well-trimmed moustache. The sharp-eyed lady noticed it, but was not
+disconcerted.
+
+"I recognize the possibility of my plans coming to naught," she said.
+"That need not prevent my attempt to realize them. I see but one career
+open to my son; he must become a statesman."
+
+"In Easthampton?"
+
+"In the United States. It is his country. Pardon me," seeing him about
+to interpose. "It is not on this point I ask the aid you are willing to
+accord. That refers to my contemplated operations in Easthampton. It
+happens, however, that my son's future will depend, in no small measure,
+upon the enterprises in question. His great need will be identification
+with local interests, to which end a fixed habitation is necessary. I
+wish to build a house which will attract attention. To put it bluntly, I
+intend to advertise my son by means of my house."
+
+"You will extort the sympathetic admiration of your compatriots."
+
+"I shall not be as frank with them as with you. You will know that mere
+display is not my object."
+
+"Yours merits admiration, even while it extorts regret."
+
+"And now you see why Easthampton is peculiarly adapted to the end in
+view. No man can point to Mark Claghorn and ask, 'Who is he?' His name
+was carved in that region two centuries since."
+
+"But you and your son are, I believe, liberal in your religious views.
+The Claghorns----"
+
+"Have always kept the faith--with one notable exception"--the
+philosopher bowed acceptance of the compliment--"but I object to being
+called liberal, as you define the term; we are Catholics, that is to
+say, Anglicans."
+
+"Humph!" muttered the philosopher dubiously.
+
+"And I intend," pursued the lady, "to proclaim my creed by an act which
+I know is daring, but which will have the advantage of rooting my son
+and his descendants in the soil of Easthampton. I intend to build, to
+the memory of my husband, a High-Church chapel, a work of art that shall
+be unequalled in the country."
+
+"Daring, indeed! Rash----"
+
+"Not rash; but were it so, I should still do that which I have planned.
+My husband longed to return to the home of his boyhood, had fully
+resolved on purchasing the Seminary tract. He shall sleep where his
+ancestor sleeps." She turned her head to conceal a tear; the philosopher
+turned his to conceal a smile.
+
+"In this pious and appropriate design, my dear Cousin," he murmured----
+
+"I shall have your sympathy; I was sure of it. I want more; I want your
+aid."
+
+In view of its wealthy source the suggestion was not alarming. The
+gentleman promised it to the extent of his poor powers, intimating,
+however, that connubial fidelity might conflict with maternal ambition,
+a result which he deprecated as deplorable.
+
+Mrs. Joe had, she said, fully considered that possibility. "Suppose you
+are right," she answered to the philosopher's argument, "even if Hampton
+is the home of bigotry, boldness always commands sympathy. My chapel
+will lend importance to a town which mourns a lost prestige. It will be
+talked about from one end of the State to the other; and I intend that
+the Seminary shall be my right hand, the Church--my church, my left----"
+
+"And both hands full!"
+
+She blushed. "Of course, I shall use my advantages. The Seminary is the
+centre of much religious effort, which, as a Christian, I shall be glad
+to aid. It is the centre of influence, which I hope to share. Under my
+roof the representatives of differing creeds shall meet in harmony and
+acquire mutual respect. Should it happen that my son be politically
+objectionable because of my chapel--why, in such a condition of affairs
+the liberalism that is always latent where bigotry flourishes would
+spring to his aid, and find in him a leader."
+
+"Madame!" exclaimed the gentleman, "you will win."
+
+"I hope so," she replied, pleased at the admiration she had extorted.
+"And now, you shall be told how you can aid me. Paris is an art centre;
+there are to be found the people I shall need in regard to my plans
+concerning the chapel. I am resolved that this shall be so noble an
+edifice that the voice of detraction shall never be heard. Next winter
+we shall meet in Paris. Will you, so far as may be, prepare the way for
+my access to the places and people I desire to see?"
+
+"Assuredly. I shall enter upon the task assigned me with admiration for
+your plans and sincere devotion to your interests," Thus, with his hand
+upon his heart and with an inclination of true Parisian elegance, the
+philosopher entered the service of Mrs. Joe, and of the Church.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+ART, DIPLOMACY, LOVE AND OTHER THINGS.
+
+
+Thus in amity dwelt the Claghorns, employing the summer days in innocent
+diversion. Many were the expeditions to points of interest; to
+Neckarsteinach and the Robbers' Nest, to the village of Dilsberg,
+perched upon the peak which even the bold Tilly had found unconquerable
+in peasant hands; to Handschuhsheim, where sleeps the last of his race,
+the boy-lord slain in duel with the fierce Baron of Hirschhorn, who
+himself awaits the judgment in the crypt of St. Kilian, at Heilbronn,
+holding in his skeleton hand a scroll, telling how the Mother's Curse
+pursued him to where he lies; to the Black Forest, now so smiling, but
+which Caesar found dark, cold and gloomy, with its later memories of
+ruthless knights whose monuments are the grim ruins that crown the
+vineclad hills, and with present lore of gnomes and brownies. In these
+simple pleasures youth and maiden, philosopher, theologian and worldly
+widow joined with the emotions befitting their years and
+characteristics. To Natalie it was a time of intense delight, shared
+sympathetically by Paula, but more serenely. Mark enjoyed keenly, yet
+with rare smiles and with an underlying seriousness in which an observer
+might have detected a trace of the trail of the Great Serpent. Leonard,
+seldom absent from the side of his French cousin, delighted in the novel
+scenes and the companionship, but at times was puzzled by Natalie's
+capacity to live in a past that, as he pointed out, was better dead,
+since in its worst aspect it had been a time of barbarism, in its best
+of fanaticism. He could not understand the longing and liking for a day
+when if knights were bold they were also boorish, when if damosels were
+fair they were also ignorant of books, and perchance of bathtubs. He
+stared in innocent wonder at Natalie's exclamation of deprecation and
+Mark's harsh laugh when he pointed out such undeniable facts. To him
+Hans von Handschuhsheim, lying dead upon the steps of the Church of the
+Holy Ghost, his yellow locks red with blood, and the fierce Hirschhorn
+wiping his blade as he turned his back upon his handiwork--to Leonard
+this was a drunken brawl of three centuries since, and it grieved him to
+see in Natalie a tendency to be interested in the "vulgar details of
+crime." He knew that the girl lived in the gloom of irreligion (he was
+not aware that she dwelt in the outer darkness of ignorance), and he
+sighed as he noted one result of her unhappy lack; and he never knelt at
+his bedside forgetful of the fact, or of his duty in relation thereto.
+
+As to the elders of the party, they enjoyed the present after the
+fashion of those whose days of dreaming have passed. Cousin Jared's
+broad smile of satisfaction was only absent when, in the heat of
+disputation, the philosopher was especially sacrilegious or aggravating,
+and even so, it was easily recalled by the tact of the widow, much of
+whose time was spent in keeping the peace between the two
+fellow-students of bygone years. As for the philosopher, he secretly
+pined for the Boulevard, though he, too, found distraction, one favorite
+amusement being to disturb the usual serenity of Paula by cynical
+witticisms, totally incomprehensible to the simple maiden.
+
+The day of separation came at length, the first to depart being the
+mature and the budding theologian. Adieux were interchanged at the
+railway station, and many hopes as to future meetings were expressed, as
+well as satisfaction that chance had brought about a reunion so
+unexpected. No doubt these expressions were sincere, yet it is possible
+that as to clergyman and philosopher, each recognized in secret that
+their real adieux had been uttered years before. Under the
+circumstances, and with Mrs. Joe as a new link, the old chain had
+served; but at heart the two were antagonists; the chain was worn out.
+
+"Not altogether a bad sort, Jared," observed M. Claghorn, as he walked
+from the station and by the side of Mrs. Joe along the Anlage.
+
+"A thoroughly good fellow."
+
+He smiled. It was faint praise. He said to himself complacently that
+she would not characterize himself as "a good fellow," whereas, the
+politician at his side, however she might have described her companion,
+regarded the departed Jared as of greater value to her plans, which had
+not been confided to him, than could be the philosopher in whom she had
+confided.
+
+The two girls and Mark, following their elders, also interchanged views
+concerning the travelers. The verdict as to Cousin Jared, though less
+irreverently expressed, was similar to that enunciated by the widow. The
+good-hearted theologian had won the regard of all.
+
+"And as for Leonard," observed Paula, "he is the handsomest boy I ever
+saw."
+
+"And as amiable as beautiful," averred Natalie.
+
+"As well as a little--shall we say 'verdant'?" suggested Mark. But the
+girls either denied the verdancy, or, if they admitted the charge in
+part, maintained it was an added excellence.
+
+Meanwhile, the travelers contemplated one another from opposite sides of
+their railway carriage, the consciousness of leaving a strange world and
+re-entering their old one already making itself felt. To the elder man
+the change was neither startling nor very painful, but to Leonard it was
+both. He did not try to analyze his feelings, but there was a dead
+weight at his heart, a sorrow heavier than the natural regret at
+parting. It was long before he spoke. "I am so glad that our cousin,
+Natalie, though French, is not Catholic," he said, at length.
+
+"I fear she is worse," was the answer.
+
+"What could be worse?"
+
+"Total unbelief," replied his father solemnly; and the weight at
+Leonard's heart grew heavier.
+
+During the short remainder of M. Claghorn's stay at Heidelberg--already
+prolonged far beyond the original intention--it was arranged that he
+should select for the widow suitable quarters for her winter
+establishment at Paris; and so willing was the gentleman to be of
+service, that, to his great satisfaction, he received _carte blanche_
+for the purpose, and, Natalie accompanying him, departed with the
+resolve that the owners of the Great Serpent should be lodged in
+accordance with the just demands of that magnificent reptile, having in
+view, among other aspirations, the dazzling of the House of Fleury by
+the brilliance of the House of Claghorn.
+
+As to those other aspirations, enough to say that they were by no means
+compatible with the loyalty he had professed for the pious plans of Mrs.
+Joe. He had not forgotten that the noble arms of the Marquise de Fleury
+were open to receive his daughter; but under existing conditions he was
+willing to be coy. He remembered with satisfaction that he had not
+irrevocably committed himself to a matrimonial alliance which still
+possessed attractions: though in the presence of the dazzling
+possibilities now offered, it behooved him to avoid precipitation. And
+so reasonable was this position that he did not hesitate to disclose it
+to the Marquise, simultaneously exculpating himself and assuaging the
+lady's resentment by dangling before her the glittering possibilities
+presented by Paula Lynford, whom he, with politic inaccuracy, described
+as the actual daughter of Mrs. Claghorn, hence inferentially a
+co-inheritor, with Mark, of the golden product of the Great Serpent.
+
+"_Tiens_, Adolphe!" exclaimed the lady to her son, after having listened
+to the entrancing tale told by the philosopher, "Heaven has heard my
+prayers," and she repeated the unctuous story.
+
+"Over a million of _dot_! It is monstrous, mama."
+
+"For these people a bagatelle. Their gold mine yields a thousand francs
+a minute."
+
+"These incredible Americans!"
+
+"There is also a son, one Marc, about your age----"
+
+"Aha, I see! M. Claghorn destines Natalie----"
+
+"Precisely."
+
+The little lieutenant wagged his head. It was the tribute to a dying
+love. From infancy he had been taught by his mama that in Natalie he
+beheld the future mother of the de Fleurys. Since infancy he had seen
+her but rarely, and on such occasions, being admonished by his mama, had
+concealed his passion from its object; but thus repressed, it had
+bubbled forth in other channels. He had written and declaimed sonnets;
+he had shed tears to a captured photograph of Natalie in pantalettes.
+The gusts of consuming passion which, in the presence of his _amis de
+college_, had swept sirocco-like across his soul, had extorted the sigh
+of envy and the tear of sympathy; from other friends, notably from
+Celestine, Claire and Annette, these manifestations had extorted shrieks
+of laughter, which, however, had moved him, not to indignation, but to
+pity, for in these damsels he saw but butterflies of love, unable to
+comprehend a _grande passion_.
+
+It was, then, not without a fitting and manly sigh that the Marquis de
+Fleury surrendered the love of his youth in obedience to his mama and
+the motto of his house, which was "Noblesse Oblige," and, having
+procured from Natalie a photograph of Paula, he did homage before it as
+to "_la belle Lanforre_" in person, besides altering an old sonnet which
+had already seen service, and finding that Lynford, or as he would have
+it, "Lanforre," rhymed sufficiently well with Amor.
+
+Meanwhile, the philosopher having diplomatically engaged the services of
+the Marquise, the noble lady proceeded to perform with zeal the task
+assigned her. _La belle France_, home of romance and last citadel of
+chivalry, is also business-like, and its sons and daughters of whatever
+rank are deft manipulators of the honest penny. In negotiating for the
+luxurious apartment of a diplomat about to proceed to Spain for a
+sojourn of some months, and in dealing with furnishers of all
+description, from laundry to livery men, the noble lady provided herself
+with pocket-money for some time to come; a seasonable relief to the
+over-strained resources of the House of Fleury.
+
+"_Tiens_," exclaimed Adolphe to his mama, Mrs. Claghorn being already
+installed in the diplomatic quarters, "this desire of Madame Zho to
+inspect churches--how do you explain it?"
+
+"She is _devote_. Doubtless she has sinned. She wishes to erect in her
+own country an expiatory chapel."
+
+Which explanation, evolved from information derived from the
+philosopher, aided by the speaker's fancy, elucidated the mystery
+contained in the patronymic "Lanforre," borne by Paula. "_Sans doute_,"
+mused the Marquise, "_la mere_, being American, was _divorcee_. The
+daughter is the child of the first husband." Which theory sufficed
+until the later arrival of Mark, who, as being palpably older than
+Paula, drove the lady to evolve another, which, fortunately, in the
+interest of harmony, was not confided to "Madame Zho," but which not
+only explained, but demanded the expiatory chapel.
+
+Mrs. Claghorn threw herself into her pious work with a zeal which
+extorted the approbation of the Marquise, who, as we know, was herself a
+religious woman, but which to the philosopher was less admirable, since
+it interfered with deep-laid plans with which it was incompatible. He
+was somewhat consoled, however, by the fact that the lady's course
+facilitated an intimacy which was favorable to the realization of less
+secret hopes; wherefore he vied with the Marquise in forwarding the
+pious cause of the widow by surrounding that lady with an artistic host,
+whereof the members received comforting orders for plans and paintings,
+designs and drawings, and were refreshed by a golden shower whereof the
+Marquise had her quiet but legitimate share.
+
+The philosopher contented himself with the post of chief adviser and
+sole confidant of the beneficent lady. For, though her intention to
+erect a chapel could not be concealed, the locality of the realization
+of her plans remained a secret, and was, in fact, privately regarded by
+Mark,--where the philosopher hoped it would remain,--as poesy hath it,
+in the air.
+
+Meanwhile, the comparative freedom of intercourse which reigned among
+the younger members of the party was approved by the Marquise as an
+American custom sanctioned, under the circumstances, by heaven, as an
+aid in its answer to her prayers; but the little lieutenant, like a dog
+that has slipped its leash, was puzzled by an unaccustomed liberty, and
+found himself unable to conduct himself gracefully in a novel role. He
+knew that the joyous freedom befitting intercourse with Claire and
+Celestine was not the tone for present conditions, but for similar
+conditions he knew no other. If, after preliminary negotiation on the
+part of his elders, he had been introduced into the presence of the
+object of his love, himself clad _en frac_, and had found his adored
+robed in white and carefully disposed upon a fauteuil--with the
+properties thus arranged, he felt he could have borne himself worthily
+as one acceptable and with honorable intentions. But thus to be allowed
+to approach the object of a passion (which, he assured his mama, was now
+at a white heat), to converse familiarly, surrounding ears being
+inattentive and surrounding eyes uninterested; to be expected to
+interchange views freely pronounced by lips such as he had supposed were
+silent until unsealed by matrimony--these things puzzled and embarrassed
+him. Perhaps it was fortunate that such attempts as he made to tell his
+love were not understood by the object of his devotion. Paula's
+understanding of French, though it had achieved plaudits and prizes at
+school, did not suffice for the purpose, and the lieutenant was innocent
+of any modern language other than his own, while against his frequent
+efforts of an ocular character Paula's serenity was proof, though
+occasionally disturbed by the manifestations of that which she supposed
+was a severe nervous disorder of the eyes of her companion, and for
+which she pitied him; and, as to the sonnet which he slipped into her
+hand, it being beyond her construing powers, she handed it to Mrs. Joe,
+who read it and laughed.
+
+But though she laughed at a production designed to draw tears, but for
+it, she had probably paid little heed to an occurrence which about this
+time attracted her attention.
+
+She was in the Church of St. Roch, Paula at her side, and, near at hand,
+Mark and Natalie. St. Roch is an ancient and gloomy edifice, and the
+lady had found no suggestions for her chapel in its sombre interior. She
+turned to leave, when her attention was arrested by a tableau. Natalie's
+hand rested upon Mark's shoulder, and both stood as if transfixed, and
+gazing at something which Mrs. Joe could not see.
+
+Had it not been for the sonnet and the reflections to which it had given
+rise, she would have at once admitted the palpable fact that the girl,
+absorbed by that upon which she gazed, was oblivious of the touch with
+which she had involuntarily arrested the steps of her companion. With
+head bent forward, her faculties were enchained by that which she saw
+with eyes in which wonder, compassion and wistful yearning were
+combined.
+
+It was a young woman upon whom the girl's rapt gaze rested. She had been
+kneeling at the grating of a confessional from which the priest had just
+departed. A smothered cry, and the abandon with which the penitent had
+thrown herself upon the stone floor of the mural chapel, had attracted
+Natalie's attention, and unconsciously she had laid her hand on Mark's
+shoulder to arrest steps which might disturb that which, at first
+supposed to be devotion, was quickly recognized as the agony of grief.
+
+For a moment the observers thought the woman had fainted, so still she
+lay after that smothered cry, and Natalie had taken a step forward to
+lend aid, when a convulsive shudder shook the prostrate form, and then
+the woman rose to her knees. Dry-eyed, her long, black hair hanging in
+disorder, her white face and great, dark eyes gleaming from beneath
+heavy brows and long silken lashes, she knelt, holding high a photograph
+upon which she gazed, a living statue of woe.
+
+Mark was hardly less moved than Natalie, but more quickly remembered
+that he, at least, had no business with this sorrow. As he moved, the
+unconscious hand of his companion fell from his shoulder, and in the
+same moment the mourner rose and her eyes met Natalie's.
+
+Dignified by grief, she was a majestic woman, and handsome; probably
+handsomer in her disorder than under the aspect of every day. Perhaps
+she instantly read the sympathy in the eyes, no less beautiful than her
+own, which were turned upon her.
+
+"You suffer!" exclaimed Natalie involuntarily.
+
+"And you rejoice," replied the other, indicating Mark.
+
+"I have but this." She displayed the colored photograph she had held
+toward heaven. A startled exclamation broke from Mark, as he looked.
+
+"He is dead," said the woman. "To-day was to have been our wedding day,
+and he is dead." The tears welled up in the listeners' eyes; the speaker
+was tearless, but the silent sympathy impelled her to go on.
+
+"Three months we lived together," she continued, with Gallic frankness
+as to domestic details. "His father refused consent, but to-day, his
+birthday, he would have been free: he is dead. His mother pities me,"
+the woman went on. "She has known love. She promised consolation in
+confession--as if a priest could know!"
+
+"Yet they say that in religion," Natalie commenced timidly----
+
+"There is but one religion--Love!" interrupted the other. "You will
+know. He"--her glance indicated Mark--"will be your teacher."
+
+Mark glanced hastily at his cousin. She seemed oblivious of the woman's
+words. He moved further away. After awhile Natalie slowly followed; the
+woman left the church.
+
+"Did you notice," asked Mark, as Natalie rejoined him, "how strikingly
+that portrait resembled Leonard?"
+
+She made no answer. Other words than his were ringing in her ears:
+"There is but one religion--Love! He will be your teacher," and even
+while she sorrowed for the sorrow she had witnessed, a strange thrill
+passed through her--was it pain, was it joy?
+
+The party left the church. Natalie sought the side of Mrs. Joe, leaving
+Mark to walk with Paula. The elderly lady asked her who was the person
+with whom she had talked. Natalie replied that the woman's name was
+Berthe Lenoir, and that she wished to be the speaker's maid, and she
+narrated some part of the history that had been briefly told to her.
+
+"But, my dear," was the comment, "your father must make inquiry as to
+her fitness."
+
+"That, of course," was the answer, and then she was silent. Within a
+week Berthe Lenoir entered her service, a woman, who by reason of her
+capacity, soon gained the general approval; and for other reasons, the
+special approval of a lover of the beautiful. "Her eyes," observed the
+lieutenant, "are the eyes which shape destinies."
+
+Meanwhile, other eyes, belonging to one who believed it in her power to
+shape destinies, were watchful. Mrs. Joe had long since resolved that to
+be an American statesman, Mark needed an American wife, and since she
+had herself trained one for the position, she had no desire to see her
+labors rendered fruitless. It had needed merely the opening of her eyes
+to enable her to discern that there were other schemes worthy of her
+attention, besides that one of the philosopher, of which she herself was
+the object, and which, though the gentleman had supposed it hidden, had
+been patent to the lady, serving to amuse while it benefited her. She
+promptly averted the danger to her plans by confiding to the Marquise
+her intentions with regard to Mark and Paula. The noble lady regarded
+such matters as entirely controllable by parental edict, and at once
+resumed negotiations with the philosopher, who, in the belief that
+surrender of his hopes in regard to his daughter would tend to further
+those he cherished in respect to himself, acquiesced gracefully in the
+inevitable; and there being no ground for further delay, the de
+Fleury-Claghorn treaty was duly ratified, to remain, however, a secret
+for the present from all the juniors of the party, except from the
+lieutenant, whom it was necessary to inform of the need of a
+re-transference of his affections. He submitted with sorrow. The charms
+of Paula had, as he confided to his mama, made an impression on his
+heart which only active service could efface. As to resisting destiny,
+it never entered his thoughts. Paula was for Mark, Natalie for him.
+There might be consolation. "With such wealth," he suggested, "they will
+surely add to her dowry."
+
+"Let us hope so," replied the Marquise. "Our Cousin Beverley will do
+what is possible. Meanwhile, be as charming as possible to Madame Zho
+and to Marc, who will have it all."
+
+"Such luck is iniquitous! Well, since my marriage is deferred, you will
+consent that I go to Africa. Love is denied me; I must seek glory.
+_Tiens, je suis Francais!_"
+
+Long before this, Mrs. Joe had exacted from Mark a promise to study at
+the University with reasonable diligence. The promise had been kept. A
+new semester was about to commence; he was anxious to take the doctoral
+degree, hence it was necessary for him to return to Heidelberg. He
+hardly regretted it. Of late, constraint had seemed to pervade the
+intercourse which had been hitherto so unrestrained, and, above all,
+Natalie had been unusually reserved. It was not without some regret that
+he departed, yet on the whole content to return to _Burschenfreiheit_
+and fidelity to the creed whose chief article is disdain of
+philistinism.
+
+Mrs. Joe was glad to see him depart before she left for America, where
+the surprise intended for him was progressing. But it might take more
+time to build a house than make a Doctor of Civil Law; the question was
+how to prevent his premature home-coming.
+
+"I will keep him," said the philosopher, in answer to her confidence as
+to her misgivings. "He has promised to visit me when he leaves the
+University. When I get him I will hold him."
+
+The lady looked at the gentleman questioningly.
+
+"Do not doubt my good faith," he murmured.
+
+"And you will come with him to America," she suggested. "Perhaps you can
+induce the Marquise. And the little soldier--surely, he will brave the
+seas if your daughter does so!"
+
+"An invasion by the Gauls. Why not? I for one shall be enchanted to see
+the result of your energy and taste."
+
+"And Natalie shall see the Tomb in which she is so deeply interested,
+while you lay your homage at the feet of Miss Achsah and so fulfill a
+long-neglected duty."
+
+"And at the feet of the chatelaine of Stormpoint. I am impatient for the
+day." And it was so arranged, and the lady, declining the proffered
+escort of Monsieur, left Paris for Havre, accompanied by Paula.
+
+"A good fellow!" she thought, as she leaned back in the coupe, applying
+to the philosopher that very term which he had flattered himself she
+would not apply, "but too anxious to believe that I am his cousin and
+not his aunt."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+A CONFERENCE OF SPINSTERS CONCERNING A RUNAWAY DAMSEL.
+
+
+Five years have passed since the Claghorn reunion at Heidelberg. The
+Professor and philosopher have journeyed to that world concerning which
+one of the two claimed certain knowledge, and which the other regarded
+as unknowable. Thither we cannot follow them, but since men do not live
+for a day, but for all time, we shall doubtless come upon indications
+that the lives of these two, the things they said and did, are forces
+still. Meanwhile, we must concern ourselves with the living, and of
+those with whom we have to do, no one is more noteworthy than Achsah
+Claghorn.
+
+Miss Claghorn was, as the representative of an ancient and very
+theological family, a citizen of no little note in Easthampton, the
+shady and quiet suburb of the city of Hampton. Her spotless white house
+was large; its grounds were, compared with those of her neighbors,
+large; the trees in the grounds were very large; the box-plants were
+huge of their kind. Miss Achsah herself was small, but by reason of her
+manner, which was positive and uncompromising, impressive. She lived as
+became her wealth and position, comfortably and without undue regard for
+conventionalities. She could afford so to live and had been able to
+afford it for many years; ever since she had shared with her brother,
+the Reverend Eliphalet, the bounty left to them by that other and
+younger brother who had died in California. On the receipt of that
+bounty she had retired from her position as schoolmistress, had bought
+the large, white house, and, together with Tabitha Cone, had undertaken
+to live as she pleased, succeeding in so doing more satisfactorily than
+is usual with those fortunate enough to be able to make similar
+resolves. Perhaps this was because her desires were more easily
+attainable than the desires pertaining to such conditions usually are.
+
+The position of Tabitha Cone was nominally one of dependence, but, with
+a praiseworthy desire to rise superior to such a status, Tabitha
+persistently strove to rule her benefactress, which attempts were met
+with frequent rebellion. Miss Achsah was, at least intermittently,
+mistress of her own house; and both ladies had a lurking consciousness
+that she, Achsah, to wit, had reserves of strength which would enable
+her to become so permanently, if she were to develop a serious intention
+to that end. Both ladies, however, shrank from a struggle with that
+possible termination, much enjoying life as they lived it, and with no
+desire to terminate an invigorating and pleasing warfare.
+
+For the rest, Miss Claghorn permitted no slurs to be cast upon her
+companion, except such as she herself chose to project. "Tabitha Cone
+and I sat on the same bench at school; together we found the Lord. I
+knew of no difference between us in those days; I know of none now,
+except that I had a rich brother."
+
+"I am sure, Miss Claghorn, I quite agree with your view," observed
+Paula, to whom the words were addressed.
+
+"Which I hope is a satisfaction to you," replied the lady, her manner
+indicating complete indifference as to the fact. "If that is so, why do
+you object to my consulting Tabitha Cone about this letter?" looking
+over her spectacles at the pretty face.
+
+"I hoped that my plan would meet your views, and then such consultation
+would perhaps be unnecessary, and--and----"
+
+"And?" echoed Miss Achsah in an uncompromising tone, and regarding her
+visitor still more sharply.
+
+"You know, Miss Claghorn, you sent for me, and were kind enough to say
+you desired my advice----"
+
+"Information, not advice."
+
+"Don't you think Tabitha Cone will derive a wrong impression if she
+reads that letter?" continued the persistent Paula, "Is that quite
+fair?"
+
+"Tabitha Cone understands English--even Ellis Winter's--he says plainly
+enough that the girl is an atheist----"
+
+"Not that, Miss----"
+
+"A heathen, then--a damned soul" (Paula started palpably). "Splitting
+hairs about terms don't alter the essential fact."
+
+"Nobody can deplore the truth more than I; but to risk its being made a
+subject of gossip----"
+
+"Tabitha Cone is not given to tattle. She may gossip with Almighty God
+about this matter. She has known Him for many years."
+
+Paula shuddered. To know Omnipotence in this blunt fashion grated on her
+nerves. "I have humbled myself many times and sought her eternal welfare
+in prayer," she said.
+
+"I hope your condescension may ultimately benefit her," snapped the old
+lady. "I can't say I have noticed any change, certainly no change for
+the better."
+
+"I referred to Natalie."
+
+"Oh, and so that is the way to pronounce the outlandish name. My nephew
+Eliphalet's mother's name was Susan; my own name has been in the family
+two hundred years--well, and if Ellis Winter is right, your humblings
+seem to have done but little good. Perhaps those of the despised Tabitha
+Cone may have more effect, even if unaccompanied with flummery----"
+
+"Miss Claghorn, you are not generally unjust."
+
+"Never. But I get tired of millinery in religion. Ah! if only you would
+humble yourself--but there! I suppose you intone the prayer for your
+daily bread. Pah!"
+
+Paula rose majestically.
+
+"Sit down, child; I didn't mean to offend you. (The Lord has infinite
+patience and pity, and so for imbeciles, I suppose)" she said
+parenthetically and in a subdued tone, which was not heard by the
+visitor, who sat down, having an object in being both meek and
+persistent, a fact of which Miss Claghorn was aware. It was a sore
+temptation to let Paula have her wish, but, all the while she knew she
+must finally resolve to do her duty. It was that knowledge which gave
+acrimony to her speech.
+
+"Paula," she said, "I ought not to have asked you to come here about
+this matter. I knew what you would desire and hoped you would be able to
+persuade me; I ought to have known myself better. I must do my duty; she
+must come to me."
+
+"But, dear Miss Claghorn----"
+
+"She is a Claghorn, and--dreadful as it is--a heathen as well, and alone
+in the world. I must do my duty; it is not easy, I assure you."
+
+Paula quite believed this, and the belief did not add to her hope of
+success. When Miss Claghorn desired to do things which, in the eyes of
+others, were better left undone, she was apt to see her duty in such
+action. It was equally true that her duty being visible, she would do
+it, even if disagreeable. But the duty now before her was, for many
+reasons, very disagreeable, indeed, and strictly just as she was, she
+was but human, and the righteous indignation she felt for her own
+vacillation fell naturally in part upon Paula.
+
+"At least do not let that letter prejudice you," urged Paula. "She is a
+sweet girl, as good as gold."
+
+"Very likely. Gold is dross. Good girls do not deny their Maker."
+
+This was indisputable. Paula sighed. "I am very sorry we cannot have
+her," was all she said.
+
+Miss Claghorn looked at her thoughtfully and with some inward qualms at
+her own harshness. There was an opportunity to seasonably drop a word
+which for some time she had been considering as ready to be dropped, and
+which, if heeded, might have some consolation for the girl before her.
+
+"You can have her--on one condition. Come now, Paula!"
+
+"What is that?" asked the girl, hope in her eyes; some misgiving, too,
+for there was that in Miss Claghorn's expression which aroused it.
+
+"Stop your shilly-shally with that little milliner-man, Arthur Cameril,
+and marry him. Then Natalie can pay you a good long visit."
+
+This was more than a Christian ought to bear. Paula could do her duty,
+too.
+
+"Miss Claghorn, Father Cameril has taken the vow of celibacy. The fact
+is well known. I am contemplating the same. I wish you good-morning,"
+and so Paula majestically sailed away.
+
+"Hoity-toity!" exclaimed Miss Achsah, as her visitor let herself out of
+the front door; and then, not disturbed, but in the belief that she had
+performed another disagreeable duty, she commenced the re-perusal of a
+letter in her hand. Which letter was as follows:
+
+     "Dear Miss Claghorn--Your grand-niece, Natalie, has arrived in
+     this country. She naturally at once communicated with me, and I
+     find her situation somewhat perplexing. To speak frankly, she
+     has run away from home. It was her father's wish that she
+     remain in the household of the Marquise de Fleury, and she has
+     lived with that lady since Mr. Claghorn's death. But it seems
+     that for some time past the guardian has tried to induce the
+     ward to marry against her inclinations.
+
+     "I think there can be no doubt that the influences brought to
+     bear on your grand-niece amounted to persecution, and I am
+     disposed to regard her action as justified, having received
+     from the Marquise (who was apprised of her destination by your
+     niece) a letter, written in such a tone as to leave no doubt in
+     my mind that the statements made to me by Miss Natalie are
+     correct.
+
+     "The plan of your grand-niece is to live independently in this
+     country. For the present this would be most imprudent. She is
+     very young, and though by no means inexperienced in the ways of
+     the world, is very foreign. She is quite resolute in her
+     determination, and is aware that her property, in my charge,
+     aside from some French possessions, is ample for her support.
+     Do not gather that she is not amenable to advice, or is
+     inclined to be obstinate. This is not the case, but she has
+     evidently had an unpleasant experience of guardianship, and is
+     quite resolved under no circumstances to permit any disposition
+     of herself matrimonially. This resolve is the foundation of her
+     intention to remain independent, an intention which no doubt
+     will be easily combated with her advance in knowledge of our
+     American customs in this regard.
+
+     "It would be unfair, having shown you the only shadows
+     connected with Beverley's daughter, were I to withhold the
+     commendation justly due her. With such acquaintance as I had
+     formed with her on the occasion of my visit to France, I
+     gathered a good opinion of one whom, indeed, I only knew as a
+     child. That opinion has been strengthened by occasional
+     correspondence and by the personal observation of the last
+     fortnight. She seems to be a charming girl, remarkably
+     beautiful, with a mind of her own, and, doubtless, a will of
+     her own; nevertheless, a person that would be an acquisition in
+     any household. Were I blessed with a domestic circle, I should
+     be well content to have Miss Natalie enter it; but, as you
+     know, I am not so fortunate.
+
+     "I hesitate to mention one other detail, yet feel that you
+     ought to be fully informed; and while I can, believe me,
+     appreciate the standpoint from which you will regard that which
+     I have to disclose, I beg you to take a charitable view of a
+     matter which, to one of your rooted and cherished convictions,
+     will be of transcendent importance. It is that your grand-niece
+     is in religion a free-thinker, and rejects the Christian faith.
+
+     "To you, as the representative of the Claghorn family, a family
+     which for generations has upheld the standard of purest
+     orthodoxy, this information will come as a shock. Yet when I
+     assure you that Miss Natalie's views (such as they are) are
+     probably held rather from a sense of filial duty and affection
+     than from conviction, the facts will, I am sure, appeal to your
+     compassion, as well as to that stern sense of duty and justice
+     so admirably exhibited in your life. For many years I have been
+     aware that the late Beverley had trained his daughter in
+     accordance with a theory which repudiated tenets sacred in your
+     eyes. My only reason for never imparting the fact to you was
+     because the knowledge could only be a grief to one who held the
+     Claghorn traditions in reverence. The interest you occasionally
+     displayed concerning one who had chosen to be an exile was, I
+     believe, always satisfied as far as in my power, except as to
+     this one particular. I regret now that I withheld a knowledge
+     which circumstances have made important. I did wrong, but I
+     need not ask you not to connect my wrong-doing with the claims
+     of your grand-niece.
+
+     "Kindly consider this letter carefully and let me hear from you
+     soon. Perhaps an invitation to spend a part or all of the
+     coming summer with you would lead to an easy solution of the
+     difficulties presented. Your grand-niece is at present staying
+     with my friend, Mrs. Leon, who will be pleased that she remain;
+     but I foresee that the young lady herself will object to that.
+
+     "With regards to Miss Cone, believe me,
+
+     "Respectfully yours, ELLIS WINTER."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+A MAIDEN FAIR, A MODERN EARLY FATHER AND A THEOLOGIAN.
+
+
+Paula emerged from the White House in an un-Christian frame of mind. The
+fact might to an ordinary sinner seem pardonable, and Paula herself,
+though by no means an ordinary sinner, thought so, too. "Impertinent
+bigot!" In these unusually emphatic words she mentally expressed her
+opinion of Achsah Claghorn.
+
+From several points of view Paula was not an ordinary sinner.
+Externally, she was a very pleasing one, being in all things alluring to
+the eye. So nicely adjusted were her physical proportions that it could
+not be said that she was either tall or short, plump or meagre. A
+similar neutrality characterized the tints of her skin and hair. Her
+cheeks were never red, yet never pale; the much-used adjective "rosy"
+would not properly describe the dainty tinge that, without beginning or
+end, or line of demarcation, redeemed her face from pallor. Her nose was
+neither long nor short, upturned or beak-like, and while no man could
+say that it was crooked and remain a man of truth, yet would no
+truth-lover say that it was straight. In all respects a negative nose,
+in no respect imperfect. Her skin, ears, neck, hands, feet--all were
+satisfying, yet not to be described by superlatives. Her hair was
+neither chestnut nor yellow, nor quite smooth nor kinky, but in color
+and adjustment restful; her eyes were nearly violet, and their brows and
+lashes just sufficiently decided to excite no comment. Paula's mouth was
+perhaps the only feature which, apart from the charming whole, demanded
+notice, and he who noticed sorrowed, for it was a mouth inviting, yet
+not offering kisses.
+
+It is believed that it will be admitted that outwardly Paula Lynford was
+not an ordinary sinner. Nor was she such as to the inner being, if she
+herself could be believed; for at this period of her existence she was
+accustomed to introspection, and that habit had disclosed to her that
+she was very bad, indeed, "vile," as she fondly phrased it, or in
+moments of extreme exaltation, "the vilest of the vile."
+
+A serene consciousness of vileness was a recent growth in her bosom.
+Father Cameril (so known to a very small but devoted band of
+worshippers--to the world at large, the Reverend Arthur Cameril) was
+fond of dwelling upon human and his own vileness, and his adorers
+desired to be such as he. Nor did the Reverend Father deny them this
+delight, but rather encouraged their perception of the unworthiness
+indicated by the unpleasant word which had been caught from him by the
+dames and damsels who rejoiced in him and in their own turpitude. Father
+Cameril was, in a very limited circle, quite the rage in the vicinity.
+Since his advent spiritual titillation had been discovered in candles,
+attitudes, novel genuflexions and defiance of the Bishop, a wary old
+gentleman, who was resolved to evade making a martyr of Father Cameril,
+being, from long observation, assured that sporadic sputterings of
+ultra-ritualism were apt to flicker and die if not fanned by opposition.
+The good Father, meanwhile, unaware that the Bishop had resolved that no
+stake should be implanted for his burning, whereby he was to be an
+illumination to the Church, tasted in advance the beatitude of
+martyrdom, and reveled in mysterious grief and saint-like resignation
+and meekness, and while hopefully expectant, he added to his inner joys
+and the eccentricity of his outward man by peculiar vesture of the
+finest quality, beneath which the fond and imaginative eyes of his
+followers saw, as in a vision, a hair shirt. He was known to aspire to
+knee-breeches, and was hopefully suspected of considering a tonsure as a
+means of grace and a sign of sanctity. His little church, St. Perpetua,
+the new and beautiful edifice erected by Mrs. Joseph Claghorn, of
+Stormpoint, in memory of her husband (an offence in Miss Claghorn's
+Calvinistic eyes, and regarded askance by Leonard), was crowded every
+Sunday at Mass, a function which was also celebrated daily at an hour
+when most people were still abed; Paula always, the night watchman,
+about going off duty occasionally, and three elderly ladies, blue and
+shivering, in attendance. Father Cameril was Miss Claghorn's special
+aversion. Tabitha Cone found in him much to admire. He was a good little
+man, inordinately vain, somewhat limited in intellect, and unconscious
+of wrong-doing. He prayed that the Church might be led from the path of
+error in which she obstinately chose to remain, and, by canonizing Henry
+VIII, display works meet for repentance; in which case he would hesitate
+no longer, but return home, that is, to the maternal bosom of Rome, at
+once.
+
+As Paula saw the good Father coming down the street, holding in his
+yellow-gloved hand a bright-red little book, the redness whereof set off
+the delicate tint of the glove, while its gilded edges gleamed in the
+sunlight, she was more than usually conscious of the vileness which
+should have been meekness, even while her anger grew hotter at the
+insult offered by Miss Claghorn to the natty little man approaching,
+"like an early Father," she murmured, though any resemblance between the
+Reverend Arthur in kid gloves and aetat 28, and Polycarp, for instance,
+was only visible to such vision as Paula's.
+
+"You seem disturbed," he said, as the two gloved hands met in delicate
+pressure, and he uttered the usual sigh.
+
+"A cherished hope," she answered, her clear violet eyes bent downward,
+"has been dashed."
+
+"We must bear the cross; let us bear it worthily. I have been pained at
+not seeing you at confession, Paula. You neglect a means of lightening
+the burden of the spirit."
+
+"My cousin objects, Father. I owe her the obedience of a daughter."
+
+"You owe a higher obedience"--here his voice had that tone of sternness
+always sweet to the meek ears of his followers. "Nevertheless," he
+added, "do not act against her wish. I will, myself, see Mrs. Claghorn.
+Meanwhile, bear your burdens with resignation, always remembering the
+weakness, yea, the vileness of the human heart."
+
+"I strive," said Paula, looking very miserable and unconsciously taking
+an illustration from a heavily-laden washerwoman passing, "not to faint
+by the wayside, but the load of life is heavy."
+
+"But there are times when the heart's vileness is forgotten, the soul
+rises above its burdens and feels a foretaste of the life to come,"
+interrupted Father Cameril a little confusedly as to the senses of the
+soul. "Try to rise to those heights."
+
+"I do. May I ask your special intercession for a soul in darkness? One
+that I had hoped to gain."
+
+"Hope on and pray. I shall not forget your request. The name is----"
+
+"Natalie, the daughter of Mr. Beverley Claghorn. You have heard us
+mention them. Mr. Claghorn is dead. Until now she has lived in France,
+where she was born. I hope to see her soon at Easthampton."
+
+"At Stormpoint! How pleasant for you! Paula, we shall rescue this dear
+child from the errors of a schismatic mother. I feel it here," and the
+Reverend Arthur indicated his bosom.
+
+Paula recognized in the schismatic mother the Roman Catholic Church. She
+felt it sinful to leave Father Cameril in ignorance of the facts. She
+felt it unkind to her friend to disclose them. She could sin, if hard
+pushed; she could not be unkind. She concealed the unbelief.
+
+"We knew them some years since in Europe," she said. "I mean Mr.
+Claghorn and Natalie. She is a sweet girl; but she will visit at Miss
+Claghorn's."
+
+The Reverend Arthur's face fell. Above all earthly things he dreaded
+sinners of the type of Achsah Claghorn. "The situation will be
+difficult," he murmured. "But truth will prevail," he added, more
+cheerily. "Truth must prevail."
+
+Which assurance made the girl uncomfortable, because she knew that his
+prayers and his labors would be directed against mere schism, whereas
+the case required the application of every spiritual engine at command.
+
+So that she was not sorry that he left her, after presenting her with
+the little red book and urging her to read the same.
+
+Stormpoint was not inaptly named. A huge crag jutting out into the sea,
+whose waves, ever darting against its granite sides, rolled off with a
+continuous muffled bellow of baffled rage, which, when the storm was
+on, rose to a roar. A cabin had once stood on the bluff, which,
+tradition asserted, had been the home of the first Eliphalet Claghorn,
+whose crumbling tomb, with its long and quaint inscription, was hard by.
+The Reverend Eliphalet slept quiet in death, but the howl of the storm
+and the roar of the waves must have kept him awake on many a night in
+life. Even the stately castle erected by Joseph Claghorn's widow often
+trembled from the shock of the blast. The region about was strewn with
+huge boulders, evidences of some long-past upheaval of nature, while
+among the crags great trees had taken root. The landscape was majestic,
+but the wind-swept soil was barren, and the place had remained a waste.
+Only a fortune, such as had been derived from the Great Serpent, could
+make the Point comfortable for habitation. But the task had been
+accomplished, and Stormpoint was the second wonder of Easthampton, the
+first being the wonderful chapel, St. Perpetua.
+
+Paula gloried in Stormpoint. Not for its grandeur or the money it had
+cost, but because she loved the breeze and the sea and the partial
+isolation. Even now, as she ascended the bluff by a side path, rugged
+and steep, and commenced to smell the ocean and feel its damp upon her
+cheek, the Reverend Arthur Cameril seemed less like an early Father, and
+his lemon-colored kids less impressive.
+
+On hearing her name called and looking up, she smiled more brightly and
+looked more beautiful than she had yet looked that day, though, from the
+moment she had emerged from her morning bath of salt water she had been
+beautiful. "Aha! Leonard, is that you?" she exclaimed.
+
+"Where have you been?" asked Leonard, as he reached her side.
+
+"At Miss Claghorn's. She sent for me."
+
+Leonard's eyes opened wide. "Cousin Achsah sent for you! What for?"
+
+"She will tell you."
+
+"And you won't. Well, I must wait. What have you there?" taking the
+little red book from her hand. "'The Lives of the Hermits!' Oh, Paula;
+you had better read the 'Lives of the Laundresses'; these were a very
+dirty set."
+
+"Leonard! How can you? A clergyman, a professor of theology!"
+
+"Oh, I've no objection to them except that," he answered, "and I
+wouldn't mention their favorite vanity if they had not so reveled in it
+and plumed themselves upon it. Paula, Paula," he added, more seriously,
+"Father Cameril gave you that."
+
+He was vexed, perhaps jealous of Father Cameril, though if so, he was
+unconscious, ascribing his vexation to a different source. He had a
+hearty contempt for the silly flummery, as he mentally described it,
+practised by Father Cameril, and he hated to know that Paula was enticed
+by it. She understood and was neither without enjoyment of his vexation
+nor resentment that he would not express it in words. She would have
+liked him to forbid the reading of the little book. It would have been a
+sign of steadfastness to disobey; it might have been a greater pleasure
+to obey.
+
+"Well, read the book, if you can stomach it," he said. "I doubt if you
+will derive any benefit. I must be going. When you and Cousin Achsah
+take to plotting, I must investigate. Good-bye."
+
+"Leonard, did you know that Natalie is in New York, that she has come to
+America to live?"
+
+"Natalie in New York! Your news amazes me. She will come here, of
+course?"
+
+"Not to Stormpoint," she answered regretfully. "To your cousin's, Miss
+Claghorn."
+
+He looked his surprise. "To live there! That surely will never do."
+
+"Oh, Leonard, I am so glad you agree with me. I tried to persuade Miss
+Claghorn to let her come to us. Think of it! Alone with those two old
+women and their quarrels. That gloomy house! It's dreadful!"
+
+"It certainly will not do for Natalie," he observed, thoughtfully. "I
+wish, Paula, my cousin had consulted me rather than you."
+
+"Why, Leonard! You don't suppose I did not urge all I could?"
+
+"That's just it. Cousin Achsah is, of her kind, a very fine specimen,
+and I am her favorite and bound to respect and love her, as I do--but a
+nature like hers and one like yours are antagonistic."
+
+"Then, since you respect and--and----"
+
+"And love her, you think I don't respect and love you; but you know
+better, Paula."
+
+She blushed at the snare the echo of his words had led her into. He was
+not so conscious. "As I remember Natalie," he said, "she was amiable and
+nice in all points--still she and my cousin----"
+
+"They will be absolutely incomprehensible to each other," said Paula.
+"Do try and have her consent to let Natalie come to Stormpoint."
+
+"I will do what I can. Has Mrs. Joe invited her?"
+
+"She will be only too glad as soon as she knows. But the matter has been
+placed in such a light by that tiresome Mr. Winter--but there, you will
+find out everything from your cousin. Do what you can."
+
+"I will. What happy days they were, those days in Heidelberg."
+
+The violet eyes were tender with reminiscence, the pretty mouth
+seductive. "They were the happiest of my life," she said.
+
+"And of mine," echoed Leonard, as he walked off, having seen neither
+mouth nor eyes, but a vision of the past.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+THE ADVANTAGES OF TREADING THE BORDERLAND OF VICE.
+
+
+Among the diversions indulged in at Heidelberg, during the accidental
+reunion of the Claghorns, there had been one particularly affected by
+Professor and philosopher. The early education of these two had been
+identical; their later training had progressed on widely diverging
+lines. The Reverend Jared had continued in the path in which his
+footsteps had been placed in childhood, while Beverley had wandered far.
+Yet, being by inheritance as nearly alike as may be two who, descended
+from a common ancestor, partake of marked ancestral traits, agreement
+between them in reference to a matter wherein their views clashed was
+impossible; which fact had sufficed to lend a charm to disputation.
+
+A favorite theme of discussion had been discovered in the serious
+problems connected with the training of youth. The clergyman had a son
+who embodied his theories; the philosopher was the father of a daughter
+educated upon a plan of his own. Each was paternally satisfied with
+results so far, and each hoped for further development equally
+gratifying.
+
+The philosopher preached from a text which may be briefly stated in the
+words of the proverb, which informs us that "Familiarity breeds
+contempt." He would apply this maxim to evil and use knowledge as the
+shield of youth. Whereas the Professor, relying upon the truth contained
+in the adage, "Ignorance is bliss," and maintaining that modified bliss
+in this world and perfect bliss in the world to come are the proper
+objects of man's endeavor, logically contended that ignorance of evil, a
+thing in its nature sure to breed sorrow, was to be encouraged.
+
+"The true way to appreciate the dangers which must inevitably beset
+youth is to become familiar with them. Distance lends enchantment. That
+closer inspection of vice which may be derived from acquaintance with
+its borderland, wherein the feet of the novice may be taught to tread
+warily, will result in indifference, if not disgust. As long as there is
+ignorance there will be curiosity, which is more dangerous than
+knowledge." Thus had spoken the philosopher. To which the Professor had
+replied: "Yet I will not assume that you wish your daughter to tread the
+borderland of vice?"
+
+"Certainly I do; limiting her steps to the borderland of the vices to
+which she is to be exposed. I admit that a man cannot, as readily as a
+woman, take cognizance of such vices. It is my misfortune and my
+daughter's that her mother died at her birth; but I have endeavored to
+make her superior to the glaring defects of her sex. She is not petty.
+She yearns neither for bonnets nor beatitudes. Without attempting, in
+the ignorance inseparable from my sex, to instruct her in detail, I have
+always had in view the enlargement of her mind."
+
+"By educating her as a Frenchwoman!"
+
+"Pardon me, no. Much as I admire the French, I do not approve their
+system of female education, which, by the way, resembles the course you
+have pursued with your son. I do not question its frequent excellent
+results, nor can I question its failures. My daughter's schooling has
+been only partially French. Travel and indiscriminate reading--I have
+largely relied on these."
+
+"I am willing to admit, Cousin, that the apparent results in those
+matters which you deem of most importance ought to be gratifying. It is
+no exaggeration to say that my young cousin is a charming girl. But her
+life has not been lived."
+
+"No. Therefore, we cannot fairly speculate as to the outcome. Meanwhile,
+as far as my system has reached, it is gratifying, as you confess."
+
+"The same can be said of mine."
+
+"Doubtless. But has your son's life been lived? Thus far, you have as
+much reason for satisfaction as I have. I hope that you will never be
+compelled to admit that innocence, based on ignorance, is a weak barrier
+to oppose to the inevitable temptations which beset young men."
+
+"Innocence fortified by religious principle, early instilled," had been
+the solemn reply.
+
+M. Claghorn understood the solemnity and braved the possible results of
+a confession which he was willing to make rather than be further exposed
+to the occasional somewhat annoying admonitory tone of his companion.
+
+"I am a living example of the futility of that contention," he answered.
+"I do not wish to be understood as admitting that I have been unduly
+addicted to vice, which would not be true; but I have tasted of
+forbidden fruit. I found it unsatisfactory. I base my theory on careful
+observation and some personal experience."
+
+Cousin Jared groaned inwardly, but made no answer. Exhortation was on
+his tongue's end, but, as the philosopher had desired, he recognized its
+futility.
+
+Indulgence in wine was one of those vices which the Reverend Jared had
+found reprehensible, a practice which it grieved him to observe was
+permitted by the lax views of all those Claghorns, except himself and
+Leonard, who were sojourning together. It is not to be assumed that
+these people indulged in unseemly intoxication. Of so untoward a result
+the Professor had no fear. He objected to wine-drinking as offering an
+evil example. The fact that in so doing he discredited the first miracle
+of his Saviour was a difficulty easily surmounted by a nimble
+theologian.
+
+"You are so fierce about wine that one would think you had a personal
+hatred toward liquor," Beverley had said to him laughingly.
+
+"I have, 'Liph. Jeremiah Morley----" He said no more, remembering who
+Jeremiah Morley had been.
+
+"It is fanaticism, Jared; absolutely incomprehensible. Your son, even
+though a clergyman, must live in the world. I don't say make him
+worldly, but don't let him remain in complete ignorance. He is a
+handsome fellow, amiable, intelligent--really too good for a parson."
+
+"Which you intended to be; which your father, grandfather and
+great-grandfather were."
+
+"Don't think I depreciate them. But your boy is hardly formed on the
+Claghorn pattern. He has probably more of the Morleys. His mother must
+have been a very beautiful woman, if he resembles her."
+
+"As good as she was beautiful," sighed the widower. "Yes, Leonard
+resembles the Morleys--the best of them."
+
+And so the discussion had terminated. It has been recorded here to
+indicate paternal views as to the education of youth. In the practice of
+the views he held, Professor Claghorn had been ably seconded by an
+excellent and pious wife, and had he been alive to see the result in the
+young man who had just left Paula Lynford, he must assuredly have
+observed the proved soundness of his theories and practice.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+A YOUTH OF PROMISE, A FEMALE POLITICIAN AND A YELLOW MAN.
+
+
+Paula watched Leonard until he disappeared. Then she sighed. Long ago
+Beverley Claghorn had paid a similar tribute to the charms which
+extorted the sigh. In Paula's eyes the attractions which pertained to
+Leonard were lost in the sect to which he belonged. As a priest of the
+Church (it was thus that she put it) he would have been externally
+perfect, his physical excellence of unspeakable value to the cause of
+pure truth, while his conception of the priestly role would have been
+even nobler than that of Father Cameril. Leonard would have been no meek
+saint, but a saint militant, and long ere this the Bishop would have
+been down upon him, to the episcopal discomfiture.
+
+If Paula grieved that Leonard labored under the disadvantage of the
+rigid practice of his denomination as to vesture and pulpit accessories,
+to those by whom such disadvantages were unrecognized his personality
+was no less persuasive of his fitness for noble deeds. As a rising
+theologian and young teacher of the divine science, he was, to those who
+watched his course, of excellent promise; destined to be a defender of
+that ancient creed which of late had been often attacked by able, if
+deluded, foes. To him orthodoxy looked with confidence, as to one who,
+when the day of battle came, would valiantly assail the enemies without,
+and confound the machinations of those within the household of faith. A
+worthy successor of his father, Professor Jared Claghorn, and to be
+greater, as better equipped to meet skeptical reasoning with reason
+clarified by faith; to demonstrate that the eye of the philosopher is
+but a feeble instrument for scrutiny of the works of God.
+
+He was not ignorant of the general estimate or of the hopes of his
+elders, and had long been accustomed to fit himself for the position he
+was destined to fill, but of these aspirations he was oblivious as he
+walked slowly toward the town. He had never forgotten his father's words
+as to Natalie's unbelief. They were part of the memory of her, and now
+that memory was reawakened, and the words sounded again in his ears. He
+was deeply stirred by the knowledge that an errant soul was about to
+enter the inner circle of his life. He saw the hand of Providence in the
+fact; it was for this that she had not been turned from infidelity to
+error. She would not find the way to heaven by the dim rays of the
+obscured light of Romanism, but by the purer light of a reformed and
+vitalized religion, and to him was to be given the glory of being
+heaven's instrument. He was ambitious; his eyes had long been set on
+such earthly honors as come to theologians; he was prepared to welcome
+the theological storm of which the forecasts were already visible to
+those of clear perception, such as his own. In that impending struggle
+he knew that he would bear himself worthily, yet no glory that he could
+rightly anticipate therefrom seemed now so pleasing, nor awakened more
+fervent hope than that just born within him, the hope of rescuing a
+single soul. That glory would transcend all other, for though from men
+his work might be hidden, in the eyes of God he would be a faithful and
+worthy servant, and would hear from heaven the inaudible words, "Well
+done."
+
+Exaltation such as this had long been rare with Leonard, whose mind of
+late had been fascinated rather by the mysteries of doctrine than warmed
+by religious fervor; and he was himself surprised that this ardent
+desire for a soul should enchain him; but he was gratified. To save
+souls was the ultimate object of his teaching; he was glad of this
+evidence that he had not forgotten it.
+
+It may be that other thoughts, memories of bygone days, arose in his
+mind. Perhaps he recalled the beauty that had so attracted him in the
+garden of the Red Ox. There may have been some stirring of the blood of
+youth, which of late had sometimes coursed tingling through his veins;
+sometimes when he held Paula's hand, or noted the peachy velvet of her
+cheek, the clear depths of her eyes. But, if it were so, he was
+unconscious.
+
+Meanwhile, Paula, who in the face of Miss Claghorn's fiat, still hoped
+to rescue Natalie from the impending horrors of the White House, turned
+toward the mansion. Her main reliance lay in anticipating the summons of
+Miss Achsah by an urgent invitation from the mistress of Stormpoint, to
+which end it was essential to seek that lady without further delay.
+Suddenly, as she hurried on, an exclamation of annoyance escaped her,
+and her steps were arrested by the sight of an ancient and mud-encrusted
+buggy which stood near that entrance to the house toward which her own
+steps were tending. She recognized the equipage of Mr. Hezekiah Hacket,
+and recent observation had taught her that when Mr. Hacket's carriage
+stopped that way, the lady of Stormpoint was not accessible to persons
+of minor distinction.
+
+Aside from her general disapproval of Mr. Hacket, whose buggy, beneath
+its coating of mud, was yellow, and who was himself a yellow man, with
+teeth, hair, eyes and skin all of that unattractive hue, and unlovely in
+consequence of his pervading tint, Paula had no reason, so far as she
+knew, to resent Mr. Hacket's presence, except that it interfered with
+access to Mrs. Joe. Had she been aware of that which was transpiring in
+that apartment of the mansion which was devoted to business of state,
+she would have known that the visit of the gentleman was to have an
+important bearing upon her wish to deprive Miss Achsah of the
+opportunity to convert her erring grand-niece to Calvinism; which dark
+design Paula, since her meeting with Father Cameril, suspected.
+
+Hezekiah Hacket, externally no more noteworthy than any very ordinary
+man and brother, was, in fact, an important personage in that region
+where Mrs. Joseph Claghorn had replanted the California branch of the
+family tree, intending that it should flourish and mightily expand. The
+shrewd lady of Stormpoint had quickly discovered that Mr. Hacket, the
+man of business of the Seminary, as well as of everybody that required
+the services of a man of business, possessed a sphere of influence
+eminently worthy of cultivation by political aspirants; and in all the
+region round about there was no such aspirant whose ambition soared as
+high as hers. In a realm largely dominated by a theological seminary,
+the existence of the political potentate called "Boss" was ignored and
+the word was seldom heard; but Mr. Hacket was the thing, and, all
+unconscious, the Seminary voted as its political guardian wished. Not
+the Seminary only; as the investor of the funds of others, this
+personage controlled the sources of power, and while deftly avoiding
+concentration of the secret antagonism which he knew existed against
+himself, by never exposing himself to the vengeance of the ballot, Mr.
+Hacket named the candidates for office--not infrequently those of
+opposing sides, so that in close elections, when a rolling wave of
+reform rendered the outlook uncertain, as in those not close, he
+remained the winner. Financially, he was strictly, though only legally,
+honest. Politically, he was a rogue. He was a pious man, though without
+a conscience and without belief. His industry was untiring. The lady of
+Stormpoint disliked him, at times to the point of loathing, and she
+courted him and smiled upon him.
+
+"I sent for you," she said, on his appearance at Stormpoint, and
+offering a fair hand and an agreeable smile, both of which Mr. Hacket
+pretended not to see, it being his pleasant way to rule by insolence--if
+possible, by cringing if need were--"because in a few months my son will
+return home."
+
+Mr. Hacket smoothed his yellow jaws with a freckled hand, and replied,
+"Just so," while the lady, who secretly desired to shake him, smiled yet
+more agreeably.
+
+"Before he left home the last time," she continued, seeing that her
+visitor intended to remain dumb, "he had made many acquaintances. This
+was in accordance with your advice. What is he to do now?"
+
+"Make more acquaintances."
+
+"That, of course. I want him to enter the next Legislature."
+
+Mr. Hacket had not decided that the desire expressed by the lady was his
+own, but he was shrewd enough to know that, crude as her ideas might be,
+and defective her knowledge of things political, she had the energy to
+attain her desire in the end, if seconded by the efforts of her
+candidate. He hated innovation, but he was aware that the Great Serpent
+held potentialities which he must not antagonize. It was not possible
+for him to be pleasing to Mrs. Joe, nor for her to be pleasing to him;
+but it was prudent to seem sympathetic. He essayed it, awkwardly enough.
+
+"You know," he said, "your son is young and his only merit is money."
+
+She flushed; but she knew he could not help being insolent in the
+presence of grace, comeliness and luxury, and all these were before him.
+"You mean it's the merit by which he's best known. Let it serve until
+others become apparent."
+
+"It'll go far, but some it makes mad. I have an idea your son isn't
+over-warm in the matter."
+
+"He didn't seem so. He wasn't aware that I am serious, and I said but
+little to him. Then the country was very new to him, and the people.
+He'd been long in Europe; his position was difficult." She had realized
+much more keenly than Mr. Hacket that Mark had only followed her urgency
+in that matter of making acquaintance because he had wished to please
+her. She was sure that there had been some hidden cause for indifference
+other than distaste for the task she had set him, and had brooded not a
+little over possibilities. But she was sanguine by nature; and since no
+love-tale had come to her ears (and she had her observers and reporters)
+she had concluded that, whatever the cause of his indifference, her son
+would become sufficiently ardent in the furtherance of her plans, when
+once they were more fully disclosed to him, and he had become aware that
+his mother had set her heart upon a political career for him. At present
+he probably regarded her wishes as merely a passing whim, and she knew
+that he was ignorant of her consultations with Mr. Hacket.
+
+"Positions are apt to be difficult," observed the gentleman. "However,
+it's much too soon to discuss nominations. He'll have a year before
+him."
+
+"He must have the Seminary," she said, "when the time comes."
+
+"When the time comes," he echoed. He did not intend to commit himself,
+but he was becoming each moment more convinced that the lady knew her
+value and wished him to perceive the fact. It was equally evident that
+she duly appreciated his own; was, in fact, afraid of him, a pleasing
+assurance, which would have been yet more delightful if the gentleman,
+simultaneously with the recognition of this truth, had not also
+recognized a less agreeable fact, namely, that he was also afraid of
+her; sufficiently so to make it advisable that she understand he was not
+trifling with her. Such advice as he might give must seem reasonable,
+and must go beyond the suggestion of making acquaintances.
+
+"You're working the Sem. all right," he said as graciously as he could.
+"Keep it up, but don't overdo it. How's Miss Achsah feel?"
+
+"Friendly to Mark, I'm sure; not unfriendly to me, though----"
+
+"Though your church sticks in her--is hard to swallow. I'm not surprised
+at that. St. Perpetual's----"
+
+"Is there and beyond discussion."
+
+"I always believe in looking over the whole field. St. Perpetual covers
+a good deal of it; so does Miss Achsah, and----"
+
+"I had no idea that my sister-in-law is a political factor."
+
+"Her's is, or wants to be."
+
+"Well, let us conciliate Miss Achsah, if necessary. We're on fair
+terms----"
+
+"Next time the Bishop comes here, invite her to dinner with him."
+
+"She'll decline."
+
+"What if she does? You always had the Professor, and she'll see that you
+look on her as his successor."
+
+He rose, as if to go, but hesitated. Not because of any delicacy about
+volunteering the counsel that hovered on his lips, but in doubt whether
+it might not be well to permit her to injure her aspirations as much as
+she could. The certainty that she was, if she cared to be, too
+influential to offend him, determined him. He felt, with a sigh, that
+the time might come when he might be compelled to share his power;
+better that than risk losing it.
+
+"I was in New York this week and saw Ellis Winter," he said. "Ellis told
+me that 'Liph Claghorn's daughter is in this country. He seemed to think
+you might invite her here."
+
+"I intended to do so."
+
+"Don't. She's French and, I suppose, a Romanist. Winter was
+close-mouthed, but I could see there was something. There's talk enough
+about idolatry and St. Perpetual's. I happen to know that Miss Achsah
+wants her, too, to convert her."
+
+"Really, Mr. Hacket----"
+
+"Good-bye," he said. "I've acted on the square. There's more in the
+matter than you think."
+
+After his departure the lady of Stormpoint spent a few moments of
+indulgence in silent indignation; but when Paula came and preferred the
+request for that urgent invitation to Natalie, which was to circumvent
+the designs of Miss Claghorn, she found the lady inclined to recognize
+the claims of that person. Nevertheless, she promised to send the
+invitation, and did so that afternoon.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+THE DEVIL WALKS TO AND FRO IN HAMPTON.
+
+
+The ancient city of Hampton and its Theological Seminary are well known.
+To the wanderer under the elms of the quaint old town there is imparted
+an impression of cleanliness and a serene complacency, derived,
+doubtless, from the countenances of the many who, clad in sombre vesture
+and clean linen, pass and repass in the quiet streets. No man can be
+long in Hampton without feeling the theological influence; unconsciously
+the wayfarer adopts the prevailing manner, becomes deliberate in his
+walk and grave of aspect; his moral tone acquires rigidity, his taste
+severity; he inwardly rejoices if clad in fitting black and secretly
+covets gold-rimmed spectacles.
+
+The best hotel, facing the Square, has the Hampton air, being even
+severely theological in aspect. Ordinary commercial travelers prefer
+"The United States," also a grave hostelry, though less austere in tone;
+but some descend at "The Hampton," reverend appearing gentlemen these,
+with white chokers conspicuous, and dealing in churchly wares and
+theological publications.
+
+In this house Leonard had lived since his father's death had made the
+old home desolate, being, by reason of his personal as well as his
+professional attributes, a guest of note; and here there happened to him
+one day a new and strange experience.
+
+He was breakfasting, later than his usual hour, when he became conscious
+of the scrutiny of the strangest eyes he had ever seen--eyes belonging
+to a woman, who, plainly clad in traveling attire, faced him from an
+adjacent table where she sat, with another woman, whose back was toward
+Leonard.
+
+The gaze, though fixed, was not in appearance intentionally bold. The
+woman's eyes, dreamy, languishing, seemed to sink into his own, as
+though seeking what might be in the depths they tried to penetrate. It
+was as though, for them, the veil behind which man hides his inner self
+was lifted, and a sense of pleasure stole over him and willingness to
+surrender to this scrutiny; withal a shrinking from disclosure of that
+which he instinctively felt was unknown, even to himself. It required
+some effort to rise and leave the room.
+
+An hour later, while waiting for the time of his morning lecture, and
+hardly freed as yet from the sensation resulting from his breakfast
+experience, while sitting in the spacious hall of the quiet house, he
+suddenly became aware of drapery, and looking up, encountered the eyes
+again; not as he had been seeing them since he had escaped them, but
+again bodily where they belonged, under the heavy brows of a dark-faced,
+large, and rather handsome woman.
+
+"Pardon," she said in musical tones, and with a scarce perceptible smile
+at the ruddy flush which mantled his face. "_Est ce Monsieur Claghorn?_"
+
+"Surely," exclaimed Leonard, "this is not----"
+
+"The maid of Mademoiselle Claghorn," she replied, still in French. "The
+clerk indicated you as Monsieur----"
+
+"Certainly. Your mistress----"
+
+"This way, Monsieur." She led him toward the parlor, and had his ears
+been keen enough, he might have heard her murmur: "_Il est adorable._"
+
+Natalie had been, in Leonard's eyes, a very beautiful girl, and he found
+her now a very beautiful woman. She was tall, dark, slender and
+indescribably graceful, as well as with the nameless manner, born with
+some and never in perfection acquired, of exceeding yet not obtrusive
+graciousness. Had she been born a duchess, she could not have had a
+better manner; had she been born a washerwoman, it would have been as
+good, for it was born, not made. The mere beauty of her face was hardly
+remembered in contemplation of qualities apparent, yet not wholly
+comprehensible. Ordinarily serene, if not joyous in expression, there
+was an underlying sadness that seldom left it. Perhaps she still grieved
+for the father she had lost; perhaps, unconsciously, she craved the love
+or the religion which the Marquise had said a woman needs.
+
+The travelers were on their way to Easthampton, having arrived in the
+night train from New York. On learning that less than an hour's drive
+would bring her to the home of Miss Claghorn, Natalie declined Leonard's
+escort. "I wish to see my grand-aunt alone," she explained. "She has
+written a most kind invitation----"
+
+"Which I hope you will accept, Cousin."
+
+"Which I greatly desire to accept, but----"
+
+"If for any reason," he interrupted, "you should decide not to accept
+Cousin Achsah's invitation, I know that at Stormpoint----"
+
+"I have letters from both Mrs. Joe and Paula; but my first duty, and my
+inclination as well, take me to my father's aunt."
+
+Though he had at first agreed with Paula that residence with Miss Achsah
+would not "do" for Natalie, he saw the fitness of her decision. She
+recognized her own status as a Claghorn and appreciated the Claghorn
+claim upon her. "I am glad you feel so," he said. "You will discern
+Cousin Achsah's real excellence beneath an exterior which, at first
+sight, may seem unpromising. She is not French, as you will soon
+discover, but as for true kindness----"
+
+She interrupted with a laugh. "You and Mr. Winter are both eloquent in
+apologizing for my grand-aunt's sort of kindness, which, it seems,
+differs from the French variety."
+
+"We only mean she will seem to you undemonstrative. She is very
+religious."
+
+"That does not alarm me; everybody is--except myself," and now her laugh
+had a cadence of sadness.
+
+It touched him. He knew the task laid out for him by Providence, and he
+felt that he ought to say a fitting word. But all the time he knew that
+the eyes of the maid were upon him. The knowledge made him appear
+somewhat constrained--he who ordinarily had an ease of manner, which was
+not the least of his charms.
+
+"They are well at Stormpoint, of course?" questioned Natalie. "Mrs. Joe
+and Paula?"
+
+"Perfectly. You will be charmed with their home. Mrs. Claghorn has
+transformed a desert. The sea----"
+
+"Paula sent me some views, and better, an appreciative description. I
+should think they would never wish to leave it--none of them?" She
+looked inquiringly at him.
+
+"As to that," he laughed, "Mrs. Joe flits occasionally; and, of course,
+Paula with her. But they are becoming more and more content to remain at
+home. Mrs. Joe is quite a public character."
+
+"A chatelaine--the head of the house?" Again her eyes questioned more
+insistently than her lips.
+
+"Quite so," was the answer. "Mark's a rover. He's in Russia."
+
+A sigh of relief--or regret? It was quickly checked. Leonard noticed her
+pallor. "You are tired," he said. "Why not rest for an hour or two here?
+If you will do so, I can myself drive you to Easthampton. Just now I
+must attend to my class at the Seminary."
+
+But she would not wait for his escort; so he procured a conveyance, and
+surmising that, under the circumstances, the maid was an embarrassment,
+he suggested providing her with a book and the hospitality of his
+sitting-room, and having seen his cousin depart, he conducted
+Mademoiselle Berthe to his room and handed her a volume of the "Revue
+des Deux Mondes," which the maid accepted graciously.
+
+"There," he said pleasantly, and in his best French, "you can look out
+of the window or read, as you please. I hope you will not find the time
+long."
+
+She smiled in reply. Her penetrating eyes sought that other self within
+him, which leaped to the call and looked out of his eyes into hers. For
+a moment only. His gaze dropped. Wondering, he found himself trembling.
+
+"I--I shall look in in an hour, to see if you want anything."
+
+"Monsieur is very good," murmured Berthe. They were not far apart; her
+hand touched his. She looked downward.
+
+"Good-bye," he said abruptly.
+
+She watched him crossing the square toward the Seminary. There was a
+half smile upon her lips. "He is adorable," she murmured again. "Ah! I
+thought so," as Leonard, now some hundred yards away, looked back.
+
+When he had disappeared she lazily inspected her surroundings, noting
+the various objects with faint interest. "_Son pere_," she muttered as
+her glance fell upon the portrait of Professor Jared Claghorn. But she
+examined more minutely that of his mother. "_Belle femme_," was her
+comment, and though her eyes wandered from the picture, they often
+returned to it, verifying the close resemblance between it and the
+occupant of the room. "Ah-h!" she exclaimed, throwing up her arms, and
+then letting them fall listlessly, "_Qu'il est beau_!"
+
+Then she tried to doze, but without much success, twitching nervously
+and occasionally muttering impatiently; and, at length, she rose from
+her chair and began to deliberately inspect the various objects lying on
+table or mantel. Everything that was purely ornamental she scrutinized
+with care, as though she would read the reason of its being where she
+found it. There was a peculiar expression of veiled anger in her eyes
+while thus engaged, and once the veil was momentarily lifted and anger
+was visible. Nevertheless, she laughed a moment after and replaced the
+object, an ivory paper cutter, where she had found it. "_T'es bete_,"
+she muttered.
+
+But soon her dark eyes flashed actual rage. She had taken a prettily
+bound book of poems from the table, where it had been thrown, as if but
+recently read. She turned the pages, half carelessly, yet with a sharp
+eye, to see if there were any marked passages. She found one or two
+such, and it would have been diverting, had there been a spectator
+present, to note her perplexed attempts to read Mrs. Browning. But the
+language was beyond her powers, and she was about impatiently to replace
+the book when she noticed the fly-leaf, whereon in a neat, clear hand
+was written the inscription, "Leonard, from Paula." She stared at these
+innocent words with a glare that under no circumstances could have been
+regarded as amusing. Finally, she tore the leaf from the book and flung
+the book itself disdainfully from her. Then she crumpled the leaf in her
+hand, threw it into the waste basket, and deliberately spat upon it.
+
+Which strange proceeding perhaps soothed her irritation, for she lay
+back in her chair, and after breathing hard for a little while, was soon
+sleeping peacefully.
+
+Meantime, while Mademoiselle slept the sleep of one who has spent the
+night in travel, Leonard lectured, but less fluently than was usual. A
+man out of sorts is not an uncommon circumstance, and though his flushed
+cheeks, bright eyes, and occasional bungling speech were sufficiently
+remarkable in one ordinarily engrossed with his subject, nothing was
+said to further disturb his equanimity.
+
+The lecture over, he walked across the square, less equable in spirit
+than he had been in the class-room; for there he had striven to retain
+his grasp of the topic in hand; now he was under no restraint and could
+surrender himself to contemplation--of what?
+
+Of the stirring touch of a woman's hand, of the vision of a new world, a
+glimpse of which he had caught in the greedy depths of a woman's eyes.
+Even now he was hurrying to see these things again, while he was angry
+that they drew him back.
+
+He overcame the attraction, and deliberately sat down upon a bench. He
+watched a little girl playing about, and might have remained watching
+had not the devil, who sometimes walks to and fro and up and down in
+Hampton, intervened.
+
+The child was suddenly struck by a ball, batted by an urchin, who, on
+seeing what he had done, incontinently took to his heels. She fell,
+stunned, almost at Leonard's feet. The impact of the ball had seemed
+frightful, and for a moment Leonard thought she was killed.
+
+The hotel was across the street. He carried her thither, intending to
+summon a physician, but on seeing some returning signs of animation, he
+took his burden to his room and laid her on the bed.
+
+Berthe, her nap over, had witnessed the scene in the park. She heard
+Leonard lay the child on the bed in the chamber adjoining the room in
+which she sat, and was instantly by the bedside with her traveling bag,
+from which she produced restoratives. She gave her whole attention to
+the sufferer, while he looked on, pleased with these gentle
+ministrations.
+
+"It may be a bad hurt," said Berthe, undoubted pity in her tone. "The
+brain may be injured."
+
+"I will call the doctor,'" he said.
+
+The doctor was at hand, his room being on the same corridor. His opinion
+was that no serious damage had been done. "Let her rest awhile. If she
+seems unusually drowsy, let me know," with which words and a glance at
+Mademoiselle, he returned to his room.
+
+Berthe knelt beside the child, who was growing alarmed as her
+intelligence became normally acute. The Frenchwoman prattled soothingly,
+and Leonard stooped to add some words of encouragement. He stroked the
+child's hair, and his hand met the soft hand of Berthe and was enclosed
+within it. He trembled as she drew him downward, and a sob escaped him
+as his lips met hers and lingered on them in a rapturous kiss.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+HER EYES GREW LIMPID AND HER CHEEKS FLUSHED RED.
+
+
+When the carriage, which was to convey her to Easthampton, had started,
+Natalie commenced the re-perusal of Miss Claghorn's invitation, which
+ran thus:
+
+     "My Dear Grand-niece--I address you thus, for though I have
+     never seen you, yet you are of my kindred, and all who bear
+     your name must be dear to me. Your father was so in his youth,
+     and if, in later years, he neglected, if he did not forget, the
+     ties of kinship and of country, I nevertheless mourned for him,
+     even though sensible that all things are ordered by the Lord of
+     heaven and earth and that human regret is useless, and, if
+     unaccompanied with resignation, sinful. Mr. Winter writes me
+     that you are friendless. I offer that which you can justly
+     claim from me--my friendship and a home. As far as earthly
+     cares are concerned, I am willing to relieve you of those
+     incident to your situation. This is plainly my duty, and for
+     many years I have striven, with God's help, to perform with a
+     cheerful spirit that which I have been called upon to do.
+
+     "It is this habit which impels me here to refer to your views
+     concerning man's duty toward his Maker. I do not, because
+     conscientiously I cannot, agree with those who profess
+     tolerance in these matters. There should be no tolerance of
+     sin. If we would worthily follow in the steps of Him who died
+     that we might live, we must hate the devil and his children in
+     the same measure that we love our Father and his children.
+     Whose child are you?
+
+     "This is a solemn question. I urge you to seek its answer at
+     the Throne. If you will do this, my hope will be mighty. Should
+     you be tempted to resent my solicitude, remember that my
+     religion is a part of my nature, the only part meriting your
+     respect, and that it requires of me that which I have written,
+     as well as much more not set down here, but of which I hope I
+     shall see the fruits. Come to me as soon as possible, and be
+     assured of a welcome. ACHSAH CLAGHORN."
+
+The girl smiled, though sadly, as she read this letter. She did not
+resent the fact that it was confessedly inspired solely by a sense of
+duty; she rather admired the writer for the uncompromising statement;
+nor was she offended at the sermon contained in the epistle, or inclined
+to treat it lightly. It is not probable that the writer of the letter
+believed that her exhortation would sink deeply in the heart of an
+"atheist," she being probably unaware that some who know not God crave a
+knowledge which they find nowhere offered.
+
+The drive was long, the horse sleepy, the driver willing that his steed
+should doze, while his passenger paid by the hour, for which reason he
+had chosen the longer road by the sea.
+
+She looked out upon the water with a gaze of longing, as though there
+might arise from out the solitary deep a vision which would solve that
+great mystery, which for Miss Claghorn and such as she, was no mystery,
+but wherein most of us grope as in a fog. But, as to other yearning
+eyes, so to hers no vision was vouchsafed; though had her sight been
+strengthened by experience, she might have seen, symbolized in the
+waters, the life of man. For, against the shore the fretful waves were
+spent and lost in sand, whereof each particle was insignificant, but
+which in the mass absorbed the foaming billows, as the vain aspirations
+of youth absorb its futile energies. Beyond was the green water, still
+tireless and vexed, and then the smoother blue, as it neared the
+sky-line, undisturbed, until afar the waters lay at rest in hopeless
+patience, and the heavens came down and hid the secret of what lay
+beyond.
+
+But, if youth looked with the eyes of age, there were no youth. She was
+not yet to know lessons which must be hardly learned, and it was not
+that one offered by the waters that she saw as she looked out upon the
+ocean. Far beyond the horizon, in a distant land, her eyes beheld the
+garden of a village inn where sat a girl, prattling with her father and
+commenting upon two dusty strangers, who in their turn were eyeing the
+maid and her companion curiously. She saw the cave, heard Leonard shout
+the name--and then Mark Claghorn stood before her--as he then had stood,
+in the jaunty cap and ribbon which proclaimed him "_Bursch_"; one of
+those lawless beings of whom she had heard much school-girl prattle.
+Even then she had contrasted the handsomer face of the simple-minded boy
+beside her with the harsher and more commanding features of this
+newcomer. And her fancy wandered on through pleasant German saunterings
+and Parisian scenes among the churches--to the day when Berthe Lenoir
+had said that Mark would be her teacher in the lore of love; and she
+knew that, in the moment of that saying, she had learned the great
+lesson, never to be forgotten.
+
+She had cherished the secret without hope or wish that he should share
+it, for she knew that so sweet a thing could live in no heart but her
+own; and she had not been ashamed, but had been proud of this holy
+acquisition hidden in her heart of hearts. Her eyes grew limpid and her
+cheeks flushed red as she recalled how the shrine of her treasure had
+been profaned by the hand of one that might have known, but had
+disdained its worth. In the Church of St. Roch the three who had been
+present when love was born were again alone together. Berthe was now her
+maid, and Mark, his university days past, was a daily visitor at her
+father's house.
+
+The scene was clear before her as he pointed to the maid, out of
+earshot, and gazing carelessly at the worshippers. "Has she
+forgotten--so soon?" he said. "Are women so?"
+
+She had not answered. Forgotten! Who could forget?
+
+"I have not forgotten. I often come here, Natalie."
+
+She had had no words. What was it that had so joyously welled up within
+her and overflowed her eyes and closed her lips?
+
+"I was to be your teacher, Natalie."
+
+She looked into his eyes, and from her own went out the secret of her
+soul into his keeping; and she had been glad, and the gloomy church had
+been aglow, and as they passed out the sun shone and the heavens smiled
+upon a new world; for she had never seen it thus before.
+
+That was the short chapter of the history of her love. There had been no
+other. He had ravished her secret that he might disdain it, and next day
+had said a stern good-bye, spoken as though forever.
+
+Yet she had dared to come here, though now the impulse was strong upon
+her to turn and flee from a region where he might be met. It was but an
+impulse; for either she must come among these her relatives or return to
+throw herself into the arms of the vacuous hussar who loved her dowry,
+or failing that, into the strife and importunity from which she had
+escaped. Resentful pride, too, came to her aid, bidding her not flee
+from him who had disdained her love, though even so she knew that that
+which had been born within her had been so fondly cherished, had grown
+so mighty, that in the heart it filled there was no room for pride to
+grow with equal strength.
+
+She turned again to the letter in her hand. Her unbelief had never
+stilled the longing to believe, and now, in the hunger of her soul, the
+yearning was strong. But, she asked herself, What was belief? There was
+much glib talk of faith, but what was faith? Could one have faith by
+saying that one had it? Was conviction mere assertion? The letter
+advised her to seek enlightenment at the Throne of God. What meaning
+could the words have except that she was to crave that which she had
+ever craved? Her soul had always cried aloud for knowledge of God. Could
+it be that formal words, repeated kneeling, would compel heaven to give
+ear? Was it thus that people experienced what they called religion? Was
+it so that Miss Claghorn had found it?
+
+Such musings came to an end with her arrival at the White House. She had
+announced her coming by letter, wherefore Tabitha Cone, recognizing the
+identity of the visitor and mentally pronouncing her a "stunner,"
+ushered her into the gloomy parlor, and informed Miss Claghorn that
+"'Liph's daughter" awaited her.
+
+"I decided to call in person before accepting your kind invitation,"
+said the visitor.
+
+"I learn from Ellis Winter that you need a home," replied Miss Achsah, a
+little stiffly, but rather from awe of this blooming creature than from
+dislike.
+
+"I am grateful for your offer of one; but in fairness, I thought you
+should know my reasons for leaving France, and essential that you should
+justify me."
+
+Miss Claghorn assented not ungraciously. The frank demeanor of her
+visitor pleased her. "A Claghorn," was her mental comment, as Natalie
+told her story more in detail than Mr. Winter had done.
+
+"You see," she added to her narrative of the matrimonial pursuit of the
+gallant de Fleury, "he is not a man that I could like, but my
+cousin----"
+
+"You mean this French Markweeze?"
+
+Natalie nodded. "She is a sweet woman, and undoubtedly believed herself
+right in the matter. Then it was, doubtless, a very serious
+disappointment. Lieutenant de Fleury is her son; they are comparatively
+poor; I am not--and so--and so----"
+
+"You were quite right to run away," snapped Miss Achsah, with the
+emphasis born of indignation at this attempt to coerce a Claghorn.
+
+"It must not be forgotten that, from her point of view, my cousin was
+justified in expecting me to carry out a promise made by my father. It
+was this that made her so persistent and induced her to attempt measures
+that were not justifiable. To her I must seem ungrateful for much
+kindness." The girl's eyes glistened with tears. In fact, this view of
+her conduct, which was doubtless the view of the Marquise, affected her
+deeply. She did not state, though aware of the fact, that her own income
+had, during her residence with her French guardian, been mainly used to
+sustain and freshen the very faded glory of the house of Fleury.
+
+"Well, my dear," was the comment of Miss Claghorn, "I have listened to
+your story and justify your course; and now I repeat my invitation."
+
+Had Tabitha Cone seen the gracious manner of the speaker she would have
+been as surprised as was the lady herself. But in the presence of this
+beautiful face, the evident honesty of the narration of the tale she had
+heard, the underlying sadness beneath the serene expression, it would
+have needed a harder nature than Miss Claghorn's to be anything but
+gracious. But she flushed with self-reproach when Natalie touched upon
+what she had for the moment completely forgotten.
+
+"But," exclaimed Natalie, "I have not answered the question in your
+letter. The matter of religion, I was led to believe, would be to you
+most important. It is to so many; the Marquise, Pere Martin, Mrs.
+Leon--have all been grieved--I am an infidel."
+
+The coolness with which this statement was made shocked her auditor even
+more than the fact. The perplexed smile upon the girl's face; the
+yearning look, that seemed to recognize something wanting in her, some
+faculty absent which left her without a clew to the cause of the
+successive shocks emanating from her--these things, if only dimly
+appreciated by Miss Claghorn, were sufficiently apparent to make her
+feel as though a weight had fallen upon her heart. "Oh, my child, that
+is an awful thing to say!" she exclaimed.
+
+The way the words were uttered showed that all the tenderness, long
+hidden, of the speaker's nature was suddenly called to life. No
+exhortation ever heard by Natalie had so affected her as this outburst
+of a hard old woman. She seized the other's hand, murmuring, "Dear
+Aunt!" She pitied, even while she envied, the victim of superstition, as
+the God-fearing woman pitied the errant soul. Neither understood the
+source of the other's emotion, but they met in complete sympathy. The
+elder woman pressed the hand that had grasped her own, and leaning
+toward her grand-niece, kissed her affectionately. What old and
+long-dried springs of feeling were awakened in the withered breast as
+the oldest descendant of the Puritan preacher yearned over the youngest
+of the line? Who shall tell? Perhaps the barren motherhood of the
+ancient spinster was stirred for once; perhaps the never-known craving
+for a mother's love moved the younger one. For a time both were silent.
+
+"Come to me to-day, at once," whispered Miss Achsah, blushing, had she
+known it, and quivering strangely.
+
+The heartiness of the invitation troubled the visitor, whose answer was
+less gracious than a chief characteristic required. "I will come
+to-day," she answered. "Let it be understood as a visit only." Then she
+went out, and in the lumbering carriage was driven back to Hampton.
+
+Miss Claghorn watched her from the window. Gradually she was recovering
+herself and secretly feeling mightily ashamed, yet pleased, too. Tabitha
+came in.
+
+"Well?" she asked.
+
+"Well," echoed Miss Claghorn, acidly.
+
+"What are you going to do?"
+
+"Pray," replied the lady, as she ascended the stairs.
+
+"Must have forgot it this morning," was Miss Cone's mental comment.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+WHEREAT CYNICS AND MATRONS MAY SMILE INCREDULOUS.
+
+
+When Natalie returned, Leonard was occupying his old seat in the Square,
+a different man from the man she had met in the earlier morning. He had
+been shocked, grieved, even terrified, and above all ashamed; yet joy
+mingled with his grief, and his consciousness of new manhood was not
+without its glory; and, withal, his breast was filled with a flood of
+tremulous tenderness for the woman, and a longing for her forgiveness.
+His emotions were sufficiently confusing to be vexing, and he had
+striven to give the matter a jaunty aspect. Young men will be young men,
+even when students of divinity, and he had heard more than one tale of
+kisses. He had not much liked such tales, nor the bragging and
+assumption of their tellers; still, a few hours since, he would have
+seen no great offense in kissing a pretty woman; but a few hours since
+he had not known anything about the matter. He was sure now that the
+rakes of his college days, the boasters and conquerors, had been as
+ignorant as he. Otherwise they could not have told of their deeds; the
+thing he had done he could tell no man.
+
+And so, though he had but kissed a woman, he felt that kissing a woman
+was a wonderful thing; and he failed in the attempt to look upon the
+matter airily, as of a little affair that would have in the future a
+flavor of roguishness. It was not a matter to be treated lightly; his
+grief and the stabs of conscience were too sharp for that--yet he had no
+remorse. He was not minded to repeat the act; he had fled from such
+repetition, and he would not repeat it; neither would he regret it. It
+should be a memory, a secret for hidden shame, for hidden pride, for
+grief, for joy.
+
+He intercepted Natalie as she descended from the carriage, and, in a
+brief interview in the hotel parlor, learned of her intention to return
+at once to Miss Claghorn. The carriage was waiting, there was no reason
+for delaying her departure; there was nothing to do but to call the
+maid, and he dispatched a servant to do that. He volunteered to see to
+the immediate transmission of the luggage of the travelers to
+Easthampton, and made thereof an excuse for leaving before the maid
+reappeared; and when once without the hotel door, and on his way to the
+station, he breathed a sigh as of one relieved of a load.
+
+Some days passed and Leonard had not appeared at Easthampton. One
+morning he received the following note from Paula:
+
+     "Dear Leonard--I suppose you are very busy in these last days
+     of the term, and we all excuse your neglect of us. I shall be
+     at the Hampton station on Thursday, having promised to see
+     Natalie's maid (who don't speak English) on the evening train
+     for New York. Perhaps you can meet me and return with me to
+     dinner. Cousin Alice hopes you will."
+
+He was careful not to find Paula until the train had gone, and he had
+assured himself that Berthe was among the passengers. Then he appeared.
+
+"Why, Leonard," exclaimed Paula, "have you been ill?" The tone was full
+of concern. He shrank as if he had been struck.
+
+"No," he said; "a little anxious--troubled."
+
+"Over your freckled, gawky, thickshod theologues; what a pity you're not
+in the Church!"
+
+This kind of outburst on the part of the speaker usually made Leonard
+laugh. To-night his laugh sounded hollow. "I suppose your Episcopalian
+students wear kids and use face powder," he said.
+
+"There's no harm in kid gloves; inner vileness----"
+
+"Is very bad, Paula; we'll not discuss it."
+
+They walked across the Square, on the other side of which she had left
+the carriage. She looked up to his face to seek an explanation of the
+irritation discoverable in his tone; she noted that his hat was drawn
+down over his eyes in a way very unusual. They walked on in silence.
+"You will come with me?" she asked, when they had reached the carriage.
+
+"Not to-night. You are right, I am not very well; it is nothing, I will
+come out this week. Has Natalie discharged her maid?"
+
+"Not for any fault. Mrs. Leon was very glad to get Berthe, and as
+Natalie is situated----"
+
+"I see. I hope she is comfortable with Cousin Achsah."
+
+"They hit it off astonishingly well. The fact is, nobody could help
+loving Natalie--I am surprised that you have not been to see her."
+
+"I know I have seemed negligent. I have a good excuse. Where, in New
+York, does Mrs. Leon live?"
+
+"At the Fifth Avenue Hotel," she replied, wondering at the question.
+
+"Well," he said, after a pause, and treating her answer as though, like
+his question, it was of no real interest. "I must not keep you here. You
+don't mind going home alone?"
+
+"I should be glad of your company; aside from that, I don't mind."
+
+"Then, good-bye," touching her hand for an instant. "Make my excuses to
+Mrs. Joe; I have been really very busy. Home, James." He closed the
+carriage door and walked rapidly away, leaving Paula vexed, to sink back
+in the soft seat and to wonder.
+
+He walked across the Square to the region of shops and entered a large
+grocery store--at this time of day, deserted. "Could you give me a bill
+for fifty dollars?" he asked of the cashier.
+
+"I believe I can, Professor," replied the official, drawing one from the
+desk, and exchanging it for the smaller bills handed him by Leonard, who
+thanked him and went out. That night he enclosed the single bill in an
+envelope, and addressed it to Mademoiselle Berthe, in care of Mrs. Leon.
+
+As he could have told no man why he had done this, so he could not tell
+himself why. Cynics and matrons may smile incredulous, but the kiss he
+had given and received had wrought an upheaval in this man's soul. He
+who defers his kissing until he has reached maturity has much to learn,
+and if the learning comes in a sudden burst of light in still and quiet
+chambers, that have until now been dark, the man may well be dazzled.
+
+He did not think her sordid. He hoped she would understand that he sent
+her that which he believed would be of use to her. But when, a week
+later, he received a little box and found within it an exquisite pin,
+which he, unlearned in such matters, still knew must have cost a large
+part of the sum he had sent her, he was pleased, and a thrill passed
+through him. Like him, she would remember, nor in her mind would there
+be any thought but one of tenderness for a day that could never come
+again. It would be a fair memory that would trouble him no more, but
+would remain forever fair, of her who had opened to him the portals of a
+new and beautiful world.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+IN THE WHITE HOUSE, A DAMSEL OR THE DEVIL--WHICH?
+
+
+When Paula had said to Leonard that Natalie and Miss Claghorn "hit it
+off astonishingly well," she had fairly indicated the harmonious
+relations prevailing at the White House, as well as the general
+astonishment that the elder lady had so graciously received a religious
+outcast. It was true that Miss Achsah's innate benevolence was
+habitually shrouded in uncompromising orthodoxy, a tough and
+non-diaphanous texture, not easily penetrable by futile concern for
+souls preordained to eternal death; but Natalie was of her own blood,
+one of a long line of elect; furthermore, she had not been seduced by
+the blandishments of the Great Serpent, but had cast her lot, where it
+truly belonged, among Claghorns; and, finally, the oldest bearer of that
+name was doubtless influenced by the fact that the girl was motherless
+and friendless, and that she herself, paying the penalty of
+independence, was, except as to Tabitha Cone, with whom she lived in
+strife, alone.
+
+Miss Cone also approved of the visitor. This had been originally an
+accident. Like the rest of the little world interested, Tabitha had
+supposed that Miss Claghorn's reception of a foreign and atheistical
+daughter of Beverley Claghorn would be as ungracious as was compatible
+with humanity; wherefore Tabitha had been prepared, for her part, to be
+extremely affable, foreseeing, with joy, many a battle with her
+benefactress wherein she would have an ally; but, taken unawares, by the
+time she had grasped the unexpected situation, she had become too
+sincere in her admiration to change her role. She chose, however, to
+announce an estimate of Natalie's character differing from that of Miss
+Claghorn. "She's a Beverley down to her shins," was Miss Cone's
+verdict.
+
+"As much of a Beverley as you are a Claghorn," was Miss Achsah's tart
+rejoinder.
+
+"Which, thank the Lord, I'm not. One's enough in one house. For my part,
+I don't admire your strong characters."
+
+"So that your admiration of Natalie is all pretense. I'm not surprised."
+
+"She strong! Poor dove, she's Susan Beverley to the life." Which may
+have been true, though dove-like Natalie was not.
+
+Miss Claghorn made no reply except by means of a contradictory snort.
+
+"Now," gravely continued the inwardly jubilant Tabitha, "I call Paula
+Lynford a strong character. There's a girl that'll get what she's
+after."
+
+Something ominous in the manner of the speaker arrested the sneer on its
+way. "What do you mean?" asked Miss Achsah.
+
+"What do all girls want--though, to be sure, you've had no experience,"
+observed Tabitha (who had once contemplated marriage with a mariner, who
+had escaped by drowning)--"a husband."
+
+Miss Claghorn laughed. "Very likely. But Paula's husband will need a
+dispensation--from the Pope, I suppose--since he calls himself a
+Catholic."
+
+Tabitha echoed the laugh, less nervously and with palpable and unholy
+enjoyment. "You mean her cap's set for Father Cameril. She's been
+throwing dust in your eyes. She's after a minister, sure enough, but not
+that one."
+
+"What do you mean, Tabitha Cone?" The tone of the question usually had
+the effect of cowing Tabitha, but the temptation was too strong to be
+resisted.
+
+"I mean Leonard Claghorn."
+
+Miss Achsah gasped. "You slanderous creature," she exclaimed, "Leonard
+will never marry a mock-papist--demure puss!"
+
+"Leonard'll marry to suit himself, and not his forty-fifth cousin." And
+with this Tabitha escaped, leaving a rankling arrow.
+
+As an "atheist," Natalie was a surprise to both inmates of the White
+House. Their ideas of atheistic peculiarities were probably vague, but
+each had regarded the arrival of the unbeliever with dread. Tabitha had
+foreboded profanity, perhaps even inebriety, depravity certainly, and
+she had been quite "upset," to use her own expression, by the reality.
+Miss Claghorn, with due respect for family traits, had never shared
+Tabitha's worst fears, but she had anticipated a very different kind of
+person from the person that Natalie actually was. She had pictured a
+hard, cynical, intellectual creature, critical as to the shortcomings of
+creation, full of "science," and pertly obtrusive with views. She had
+feared theological discussion, and though convinced that her armory
+(comprised in Dr. Hodge's "Commentary on the Confession of Faith") was
+amply furnished to repel atheistic assault, yet she dreaded the onset,
+having, perhaps, some distrust of her own capacity for handling her
+weapons.
+
+But the atheist was neither scientific nor argumentative. She was so
+graceful, so amiable, in short, so charming, that both old women were
+quickly won; so gay that both were surprised to hear their own laughter.
+Sufficiently foreign to be of continual interest, and so pleased and
+entertained with her new surroundings that they would have been churlish
+indeed not to accept her pleasure as flattering to themselves.
+
+At times, indeed, both had misgivings. The devil is abroad, and it was
+conceivable that in the form of this seductive creature he had
+audaciously invaded the White House for prey, such as rarely fell into
+his toils; but each spinster was too sure of her own call and election
+to fear the enemy of souls on her individual account, and Miss Claghorn
+doubted whether even the temerity of Satan would suffice for the
+hopeless attempt to capture an orthodox Claghorn; and this assurance
+aided the belief that Natalie, herself of the elect race, was neither
+the devil's emissary, nor in the direful peril that had been feared. She
+might think herself an infidel, but her time was not yet come, that was
+all.
+
+"I am sure she has workings of the spirit," she observed to Tabitha.
+"She's not always as lighthearted as you think."
+
+"I don't happen to think it. A good deal of that's put on."
+
+"Everybody don't experience grace as early as you and I."
+
+"Specially not in Paris," assented Miss Cone.
+
+"She was surely guided of the Lord in leaving the influence of Romanism
+to----"
+
+"'Cording to your view she hasn't escaped yet; there's St. Perpetua----"
+
+"She's too true a Claghorn to be led into that folly."
+
+"I don't know," observed Miss Cone meditatively, "that the Claghorns are
+less foolish than other people. There was 'Liph, her father; 'n there's
+Lettie Stanley--then your brother. St. Perpetua's his monument, you
+know."
+
+"Joseph would never have approved St. Perpetua. If he'd been a Catholic,
+it wouldn't have been an imitation."
+
+"His wife ought to know the kind of monument he would have liked. I've
+known the Claghorns long enough to know----"
+
+"You've known some of 'em, to your eternal welfare, Tabitha Cone."
+
+"I'm not aware that the family was consulted when my election was
+foreordained. You think well of 'em, and I won't deny their good
+qualities--but I guess the Almighty didn't have to wait until their
+creation to manage."
+
+"You seem very sure of election. I hope you are not to be disappointed,
+but you might accept the fact with some humility."
+
+"Your brother, Natalie's grandfather, had a license to preach--I'm not
+aware that you have--he taught me that the fact was to be accepted with
+joy and gladness."
+
+"Joy and gladness are not inconsistent with humility."
+
+"I'm not denyin' your right to be joyful, but your right to preach."
+
+"Tabitha Cone, you'd try the patience of a saint!"
+
+"_If_ I had the opportunity!" And so, with whetted swords they plunged
+into the fray.
+
+The newcomer was graciously welcomed at Stormpoint, though Paula
+bewailed her selection of abode, tending, as it did, to frustrate
+certain plans, which were to result in alluring Natalie to the
+sheltering arms of St. Perpetua. Paula was confident of the courage of
+Father Cameril, but even a brave man may hesitate to pluck a jewel from
+the den of a lion, and she knew that to such a den the good Father
+likened the home of Miss Claghorn.
+
+But Mrs. Joe approved Natalie's choice. "Miss Achsah's her blood
+relation," she said.
+
+"What is blood? An accident. Friendship is born of sympathy," protested
+Paula.
+
+"And since that is the basis of our friendship," observed Natalie, "you
+will understand that when my grand-aunt offered me a home on the ground
+of duty, I also recognized a duty."
+
+"A home on the ground of duty," repeated Paula, with as near an approach
+to a sneer as she was capable of effecting.
+
+"Could she feel affection, who had never seen me? Remember, she stood in
+the place of mother to my father. I fear she had reason to believe that
+the fact had been forgotten."
+
+Mrs. Joe nodded approval.
+
+"Inclination would have led me to you," Natalie proceeded. "It may be,
+too, that I was influenced by the hope that I might, in some degree,
+brighten the life of an old woman who had outlived her near relations. I
+remembered how Cousin Jared, whom we all liked so well, reverenced her.
+And then, I approved her pride in the name. I, too, am a Claghorn."
+
+"In short," commented Mrs. Joe, "you recognized a duty, as I believed
+you would, and you did right. Good will come of it," she added, "a bond
+between the houses."
+
+Nevertheless, the lady's conscience was troubled. She was naturally
+candid and hospitable, yet in respect to Natalie, she had done violence
+to both attributes. In that invitation, sent in accordance with her
+promise to Paula, she had been careful to recognize the prior claim of
+Miss Claghorn, thus virtually indicating Natalie's proper course. It had
+been hard for her to close the gates of Stormpoint upon one whom she
+regarded with affection, yet Mr. Hacket's counsel had outweighed
+inclination. That gentleman was, indeed, teaching some hard lessons to
+the lady of Stormpoint. It was almost unbearable that this wooden and
+yellow man, who secretly aroused all the antagonism of which she was
+capable, should direct her domestic affairs; yet she bore it smilingly,
+as was seemly in a politician, whose skin may smart, but who must grin.
+For, Mr. Hacket's command was wise. To add an infidel to her household
+of religious suspects would be a rash act which Hampton might not
+forgive. She had no doubt that Natalie's unbelief would become known,
+and if it did not, the fact that she was French would presuppose
+Romanism, and excite comment. Were Stormpoint to harbor a Papist, one
+concerning whom there could be no saving doubt, such as existed for its
+present inmates, all her plans might be jeopardized. In the eyes of the
+descendants of the Puritans, the adherents of St. Perpetua would be
+convicted as followers of the scarlet woman, and if the red rag of
+Romanism were flaunted in seeming defiance, Mark's incipient career of
+statesmanship might meet with a serious check.
+
+On the other hand, there was comfort in the thought that all unpleasant
+possibilities would be avoided by Natalie's sojourn with Miss Achsah.
+Infidel or Romanist, in whatever light regarded, the dwellers in
+Easthampton would know with approval that the competent owner of the
+White House had the stray sheep in charge, and would anticipate
+triumphant rescue of the endangered soul, providentially sheltered where
+food of life would be daily offered. There would be also general
+satisfaction that to Miss Achsah had been given a task worthy the
+exercise of those energies which, in the cause of truth, she was apt to
+exhibit in domestic circles not her own, to the great terror of the
+members thereof. Mrs. Joe, herself, could find occasion to evince
+commendation of the expected efforts of Miss Claghorn, and, while
+placating that lady, could emphasize her own Protestantism. In fact,
+several birds might be slain with this single stone.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+SUR LE PONT D'AVIGNON ON Y DANSE, ON Y DANSE.
+
+
+It was, perhaps, because she was conscience-stricken that Mrs. Joe
+essayed to make atonement to Natalie by being especially confiding with
+her. We know, also, that she saw an opportunity of strengthening those
+bonds between Stormpoint and the White House, which Mr. Hacket insisted
+it was advisable to make as close as possible; for it became day by day
+more evident that Miss Achsah had taken her new inmate into her heart of
+hearts; other motives there may have been; certain it is that next to
+her yellow adviser, whom she loathed with a deeper loathing each time
+that she saw him anew, she opened her heart to Natalie in regard to
+those cherished projects which concerned Mark.
+
+"I want to see him famous," she said. "It will be harder for him than
+for others, because of this wretched money."
+
+"He has more talent than most, and, I think, sincerity," replied
+Natalie, pausing on the last word.
+
+The elder lady looked sharply at the speaker. The two were alone
+together; occasionally they could hear the strains of Paula's organ from
+the distant music-room. "You saw much of him after he left the
+University?" she questioned.
+
+"Yes, he was with us constantly for a time." The widow had a fine sense
+of hearing, which she strained to the utmost to note what might be told
+in the tone that remained untold by the words. She was quite aware that
+Mark had been for weeks a daily visitor, if not an actual inmate, of the
+household of Beverley Claghorn. She had herself arranged that it should
+be so; but she had not then feared possibilities, which had engaged her
+thoughts a good deal since she had heard of the rupture between the
+Marquise and Natalie. The tone of the girl's voice told her nothing, and
+the eyes that met her own were serene.
+
+"I wished Mark to remain abroad until Stormpoint was complete. I wished
+to surprise him, and impress him with the fact that I am in earnest,
+that this place is but a means to an end."
+
+"It is a beautiful and a fitting home for what he is and aspires to be."
+
+"It will help. What has he said to you about Stormpoint?"
+
+"You forget that I have not seen him since he made its acquaintance."
+
+"Surely he was not so neglectful as not to write!"
+
+"He wrote to my father. I don't recall what he said about Stormpoint."
+
+The eyes bent upon the girl, who looked steadily out of the window at
+the sea, were keen and questioning. "Pardon me, Natalie, I hope the
+breach between you and the Marquise is not irreparable," said the lady
+softly.
+
+Natalie looked up smiling. "Indeed, I hope not. I am not angry with her,
+though she is with me."
+
+"I can hardly be sorry that you disappointed her--I never fancied her
+lieutenant--but I was surprised. I had supposed the matter settled with
+your consent."
+
+"My dear father, it seems, did so arrange it. I quite appreciate her
+standpoint and know that she has much to forgive. Naturally, she
+approves of the customs of her country. Unfortunately, I was not trained
+strictly _a la mode Francaise_."
+
+"The French custom as regards betrothal is repulsive; but I supposed you
+were French--and----"
+
+"I must have inherited independent views. I might have acquiesced had I
+not seen too much of Adolphe. You are not to think badly of him--only
+that he is unendurable."
+
+"That is more damning than faint praise," laughed Mrs. Joe; "but I
+understand. Well, my dear, since you decline to become a 'female
+Markis,' as Mr. Weller has it, we must do as well for you as possible in
+a republic that offers no nobles."
+
+"I am quite content with things as they are."
+
+"That, of course, is eminently proper; but we are all slaves of destiny
+and there is one always possible to maidens. We shall select a permanent
+city home as soon as I can consult Mark; meanwhile we shall not spend
+our winters here; and in the winter Miss Achsah must reward our
+forbearance by surrendering you to us."
+
+"I shall be glad to be with you and Paula sometimes; but, Mrs. Joe, you
+know I am only visiting my aunt. I intend to have a home of my own."
+
+"That will come. Perhaps it will be with me for a time, if you can bear
+with another old woman. Mark and Paula will want their own
+establishment. Of course, they'll have Stormpoint."
+
+She had sped her bolt. If it had been needless, it was harmless; if it
+had wounded, so much the more was it needed. But she felt mean--in the
+proper frame to meet Mr. Hacket, who was announced, to the relief of
+both.
+
+The distant organ notes must have been pleasing to the ear, for, after
+Mrs. Joe had gone, Natalie sat long, listening and motionless; they must
+have been tender, for tears glistened in her eyes. When they ceased she
+rose and left the room and the house. In the grounds she found Paula,
+who said, "I came out at this moment, and saw that," pointing to the
+buggy; "then I knew that you would soon be here."
+
+They strolled to a sheltered nook of the cliffside, and thence looked
+out upon the silver sea, peaceful under the summer sky.
+
+"One could hardly believe that it could ever be angry," said Paula, "but
+you shall see it in fury; then it will be awful."
+
+"It is awful now."
+
+"Now!" exclaimed Paula. "Why, it is as serene as the sky above it."
+
+"But think what it hides. Listen to the moan; see the swell of its heavy
+sighs."
+
+"Natalie, I have discovered something!"
+
+"Like Columbus," laughed Natalie.
+
+"You are like the sea to-day. The surface wavelets laugh in the glint of
+the sun; but sadness is beneath. The sea hides sorrow; and you are so.
+You and Mark----"
+
+And there she stopped. The other knew why. Paula was looking straight at
+her face, and she knew that her face had suddenly told a story.
+
+"Does the sea remind you of Mark?" she asked in even tones, guarding her
+secret in her manner of utterance.
+
+"Of both of you," answered Paula, who had quickly turned a somewhat
+troubled gaze upon the water. "Natalie," she added, rather hurriedly,
+"there is a balm for every sorrow, a sure one. _That_"--she slightly
+emphasized the word--"is why I thought of you in connection with Mark.
+Ah, if he were only religious!"
+
+"Then he would be perfect, you think." She laughed, and Paula laughed,
+but the merriment seemed hollow.
+
+"Nobody can be perfect," said Paula, after the pause which had followed
+the unmeaning mirth. She spoke in a low tone and timidly, but for that
+reason all the more engagingly; "but so far as perfection can be
+attained, it can only be with the aid of religion."
+
+It was one of the words in season, which Natalie had become accustomed
+to hear from those about her, and which from this exhorter she always
+liked to hear. There was an atmosphere of calm about Paula and a
+serenity in her face which fascinated the unbeliever. And her
+admonitions, if timidly uttered, were sincere. It was as though the
+young preacher, though longing for a convert, feared to frighten the
+disciple away.
+
+Natalie bent over and kissed the girl's cheek. "Is he unhappy? Mark, I
+mean."
+
+"His life is evidence that he is not happy. He wanders aimlessly. Cousin
+Alice built Stormpoint for him, yet he leaves it."
+
+"His large interests compel his wanderings."
+
+"He has agents who make them unnecessary. Cousin Alice needs him."
+
+"You would be glad to have him home?"
+
+Paula looked up; her sparkling eyes answered the question. There was a
+pause.
+
+"I hope he will come," said Natalie, after awhile, "and that you will
+have your wish."
+
+"That he will become religious? I pray for it, so it must come."
+
+Natalie took her hand and held it. "And you believe that religion
+insures happiness?" She was willing to hold on to this topic.
+
+"I know it. The peace of God which passeth understanding. Do not turn
+from it, Natalie."
+
+"I do not. I am not a scoffer. I think that I, too, could love God, only
+I am densely ignorant."
+
+"But you can be enlightened. Father Cameril----"
+
+Natalie smiled. "I hardly think he would be the teacher I would choose.
+I would prefer you."
+
+"To enlighten your ignorance! I am myself ignorant. I believe--I know no
+more." This sounded prettily from pretty lips, and Paula was honest;
+but, as a matter of fact, she had some theological pretensions, a truth
+which she for the moment forgot.
+
+"How is that possible?" asked the infidel. "I could believe, if I knew."
+
+"We cannot understand everything."
+
+"No--almost nothing, therefore----"
+
+"We have a revelation."
+
+"Which reveals nothing to me. I wish it did."
+
+"Natalie, you demand too much. We are not permitted to know everything.
+We cannot be divine."
+
+"And yet we can speak very positively; as if, indeed, we knew it
+all--some of us. But if nobody knows, nobody can be sure."
+
+"I cannot argue; but I can tell you who tells me. God Himself. God
+speaks to the heart."
+
+"Paula," cried the other, with startling earnestness, "I, too, have a
+heart. Teach me how to believe, and of all the wise you will be the
+wisest. Do I not know that life is barren? that the love of man cannot
+fill the heart? Ah! Paula, if that can do it, teach me the love of God!"
+
+The tone rose almost to a cry. Paula was awed as a perception of the
+truth came upon her that here was a skeptic with religious longings
+greater than her own. "Natalie," she murmured, hiding her face on the
+shoulder of her companion, "we are told to ask. Pray, Natalie, to the
+One that knows it all."
+
+"And will you pray for me?"
+
+"I do."
+
+"And do you pray for Mark?"
+
+"Surely."
+
+"And you know that my prayers will be answered?"
+
+"I know it--in God's good time."
+
+"I will pray, Paula."
+
+They kissed one another, as though sealing a compact. No doubt Paula
+breathed a petition for her who, still in darkness, craved for light.
+Natalie prayed for the happiness of Mark Claghorn, and that she might
+forget him and resign him to the saint whose lips she pressed.
+
+Then she went home. In the hall of the White House she met Tabitha.
+"Come!" she exclaimed, seizing that elderly damsel about the waist.
+"_Dansons_, Tabitha; hop, skip! _Sur le pont d'Avignon on y danse, on y
+danse!_" and she trilled her lay and whirled the astonished spinster
+around until both were breathless.
+
+"My sakes! Have you gone crazy?" exclaimed Tabitha.
+
+"Come to my senses!" replied Natalie, laughing merrily.
+
+"I never saw you so French before," was Tabitha's comment.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+WARBLINGS IN THE WHITE HOUSE AND SNARES FOR A SOUL.
+
+
+Achsah Claghorn, for many years lonely, with maternal instincts steadily
+suppressed, had found the first opportunity of a long life to gratify
+cravings of which she had been until now unconscious. Coyly, even with
+trembling, she sought the love of her grand-niece, being herself
+astonished, as much as she astonished others, by an indulgent tenderness
+seemingly foreign to her character. Grandmothers, though once severe as
+mothers, are often overfond in their last maternal role, and it may be
+that Miss Claghorn pleased herself by the fiction of a relationship
+which, though not actually existent, had some foundation in long-past
+conditions.
+
+"Did your father never speak of me?" she asked.
+
+"Often, Aunt. Especially of late years, after we had met Cousin Jared."
+
+"But not with much affection?"
+
+Natalie was somewhat at a loss. "He said you were his second mother,"
+was her reply.
+
+"Poor Susan--that was your grandmother, my dear. She was a gentle,
+loving creature. I think now, though perhaps I did not at the time, that
+'Liph was lonely after she died. Ours was a dull house," she continued,
+after a pause. "Your grandfather lived more in heaven than on earth,
+which made it gloomy for us that didn't. Saints are not comfortable to
+live with, and 'Liph was often in disgrace. I hope I was never hard to a
+motherless boy, but--but----"
+
+"I am sure you were not. My father never said so."
+
+"Yet he forgot me. Perhaps it was pleasanter not to remember."
+
+There was no reply to make. Natalie knew that her father had been so
+well content to forget his relatives that, until the unexpected meeting
+in Germany, her own knowledge of the Claghorns had been very vague.
+
+"'Liph did write me when he married, even promised to come and see me,
+but he never came."
+
+Miss Claghorn forgot the fact that in reply to her nephew's letter she
+had deplored his connection with Romanism and had urged instant
+attention to the duty of converting his wife. The philosopher may have
+justly enough felt that there could be but little sympathy between
+himself and one whose congratulations on his nuptials were in part a
+wail of regret, in part an admonitory sermon.
+
+"You know, Aunt, he did intend to come."
+
+"To see Mrs. Joe--well, no doubt he would have been glad to see me, too.
+I am sorry we never met after so many years."
+
+Besides the tenderness displayed to Natalie alone, there were evidences
+of change in the mistress of the White House, apparent to all; and while
+these were properly ascribed to the new inmate, the fact that that
+influence could work such wonders excited surprise. The neighbors were
+astonished to behold the novel sight of perennially open parlor windows,
+and thought with misgiving upon the effect of sunshine on Miss
+Claghorn's furniture. At times strange sounds issued from the hitherto
+silent dwelling, operatic melodies, or snatches of chansons, trilled
+forth in a foreign tongue. "The tunes actually get into my legs,"
+observed Tabitha to a neighbor. "The sobber de mong pare'd make an elder
+dance," an assertion which astonished the neighbor less than Miss Cone's
+familiarity with the French language. But comment was actually stricken
+dumb when both Miss Claghorn and Tabitha appeared in public with sprigs
+of color in their headgear and visible here and there upon their
+raiment.
+
+"I believe you'd bewitch Old Nick himself," observed Tabitha.
+
+"I have," replied Natalie. "He's promised me a shrub."
+
+"I don't mean Nick that brings the garden sass," and the spinster
+groaned at the benighted condition of one so ignorant as to fail to
+recognize a familiar appellation of the enemy of souls. "You've worked
+your grand-aunt out of a horse."
+
+"Your voice is that of an oracle, Tab, and I, who am stupid, do not
+understand."
+
+"She's going to give you a horse."
+
+"Then should you not rather say that I have worked a horse out of my
+grand-aunt? which is still oracular; wherefore expound, Tab."
+
+"She told me herself. It's my belief she's in love with you. She'd give
+you her head, if you asked."
+
+"She's given me her heart, which is better. And so have you; and you're
+both ashamed of it. Why is that, Tabby?"
+
+"Well," replied Tabitha, making no denial, "you see we're not
+French--thank God! When we were young we were kept down, as was the
+fashion."
+
+"I do not like that fashion."
+
+"You'd like it less if you knew anything about it. It has to come out
+some time; that's the reason your songs get into my legs, and----"
+
+"And?" questioningly, for Tabitha had paused.
+
+"Well, your aunt was never in love--never had the chance, 's far's I
+know; but if she had, it had to be kept down--and now it comes out.
+Lucky it didn't strike an elder with a raft of children and no money."
+
+"Much better that it has struck me than an elder--that will be a friar.
+I have no children, some money and a whole heart. But this tale of a
+horse?"
+
+"Ever since you told us about ridin' in the Bawdy Bolone she's had
+Leonard on the lookout. He's found one over to Moffat's. She wants you
+to look at it before she buys."
+
+"But----"
+
+"I know--you've money of your own to buy horses. That's what she's
+afraid you'll say. You mustn't. She's set her heart on it."
+
+The horse was accepted without demur, if with some secret misgiving as
+to adding a new link to the chain which was binding her to Easthampton;
+and it was peculiarly grateful. Ever since that day when Natalie had
+astonished Tabitha by improvising a waltz, her gaiety had been
+feverish, almost extravagant, the result of a craving for physical
+excitement; the desire to jump, to run, to leap, to execute for
+Tabitha's delectation dances which would have made Miss Claghorn stare.
+The horse in some degree filled the craving. She rode constantly,
+sometimes alone, galloping wildly in secluded lanes; sometimes sedately
+with Paula and an attendant; often with Leonard, an ardent equestrian, a
+fact not forgotten by the donor of the horse when the gift was made.
+
+In the eyes of Miss Achsah, as in other eyes, Leonard embodied the
+finest type of the fine race to which he belonged, combining in his
+person physical graces not generally vouchsafed to these favorites of
+heaven, as well as those nobler attributes with which they had been so
+liberally endowed, and which rendered them worthy of the celestial
+preference. It was religious to believe that these graces of person and
+of manner were not given without a purpose, and aided by the same pious
+deduction which usually recognizes in similar charms a snare of Satan,
+Miss Claghorn beheld in this instance a device of Providence for winning
+a soul.
+
+Besides the facilities for conversion thus utilized, Miss Achsah
+discerned other grounds for hope. In the frequent lapses into
+thoughtfulness, even sadness, on the part of the unbeliever, she
+recognized the beginning of that spiritual agitation which was to result
+in the complete submission of the erring soul to heaven; nor was she
+negligent in dropping those words which, dropped in season, may afford
+savory and sustaining food to a hungry spirit. Had Natalie displayed
+that mental agony and tribulation which naturally accompanies the fear
+of hell, and which is, therefore, a frequent preliminary terror of
+conversion, Miss Claghorn would have called in her pastor, as in
+physical ills she would have called in the doctor; but since Natalie
+displayed nothing more than frequent thoughtfulness and melancholy, and,
+as with some natures (and the lady knew it was true of the Claghorn
+nature) antagonism is aroused by over-solicitude, she easily persuaded
+herself that, for the present at least, the case was better in the
+competent hands of Leonard, to whom she solemnly confided it. She feared
+the treatment of a more experienced, yet perhaps harsher practitioner,
+whose first idea would be the necessity of combating Romanism. For the
+secret of Natalie's unbelief remained undisclosed, and Miss Claghorn
+dreaded such disclosure as sure to bring disgrace upon the family name.
+Finally, she had another reason, not the least important, for providing
+Leonard with the chance of winning that soul, which she hoped would
+become for him the most precious of the souls of men.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+THE SECRET OF HER HEART WAS NEVER TO BE TOLD BY HER TO HIM.
+
+
+"She must be warned from Father Cameril," said Miss Claghorn.
+
+"Do you suppose _he_ could influence her?" observed Leonard scornfully.
+"I shall not forget my duty, Cousin Achsah. Meanwhile, remember that she
+is a Claghorn. That means something."
+
+"A great deal; still, there was her father--and Lettie Stanley----"
+
+"I think you are rather hard on her. I believe that Mrs. Stanley is a
+good woman."
+
+"Will goodness alone attain heaven?"
+
+Leonard did not answer. Mrs. Stanley's chances of heaven had no great
+interest for him.
+
+If he seemed somewhat less solicitous than Miss Claghorn had expected it
+was because already his musings were tending in a direction not
+theological. "How lovely she is!" This had been his thought on his first
+visit to Easthampton, while Natalie's little hand still lay in his in
+welcome. He noted, as he watched her afterward, the fitful sadness of
+her eyes, and longed to share her unknown sorrow. He saw the ripe red
+lips and his bosom glowed, his eyes grew dreamy and his cheeks flushed
+pink. He had never, so Paula averred, been as handsome as on that
+evening.
+
+He was now a daily visitor, equally welcome at the White House or at
+Stormpoint, and the relations between the two establishments were such
+that a hope arose within the bosom of Mrs. Joe that she might be able to
+report to Mr. Hacket that Miss Claghorn had actually dined with the
+Bishop. She ventured to confide to Miss Achsah certain aspirations in
+regard to Mark, and her confidence was well received and her plans
+applauded. Miss Claghorn thought it fitting that Mark, who was nearer
+to her in blood than Leonard, should assume in worldly affairs that
+eminence which in higher matters would be Leonard's. It was plain that
+when the time came such influence as she possessed would be used in
+Mark's behalf, barring some untoward circumstance, which Mrs. Joe was
+resolved should not occur. And to prevent it she warned Father Cameril
+that his wiles were not to be practised upon Natalie. His prayers, her
+own and Paula's, she informed him, must, for the present, suffice. She
+was aware that Miss Claghorn had personally taken charge of a matter
+which, to do Mrs. Joe justice, she regarded as of supreme importance.
+But, St. Perpetua notwithstanding, her opinions were liberal. She
+supposed that good people went to heaven, and she was not sternly rigid
+in her definition of goodness. As to where bad people went, her ideas
+were vague. She did not question Miss Claghorn's Christianity, though
+she did not admire its quality, but she knew that on the first attempt
+to entice Natalie by the allurements presented by St. Perpetua, the
+bonds of amity now existing would be strained. She even went so far as
+to assure her sister-in-law that Father Cameril should be "kept in his
+place," an assurance which was accepted with the grim rejoinder that it
+were well that he be so kept.
+
+Wherefore, it would seem that those exalted aspirations which had warmed
+Leonard's bosom, when he had learned from Paula that his French cousin
+was to be a resident of Easthampton, would be reawakened, and that he
+would gladly attempt their realization. Alas! other, and more alluring
+visions, engaged his senses.
+
+To say that he had loved the maid, Berthe, is only to say that which
+would be true of any man of similar temperament under similar
+circumstances. The kiss of those lips, over which he had so rapturously
+lingered, had been his first taste of passion. It may be a sorrowful,
+but it is not a surprising, fact, that it should affect him violently
+and color his dreams of a sentiment hitherto unknown. He had taken a
+long step in a pathway which was to lead him far, though he was as
+ignorant of the fact as he was of the fact that, in this respect, his
+education had commenced unfortunately.
+
+He was sufficiently a man of the world to be aware that the emotion in
+which he had reveled could have no satisfactory result. He would no more
+have considered the advisability of marrying Natalie's maid than would
+the Marquis de Fleury; and as to any other possibility, such as
+perchance might have occupied the mind of the noble Marquis, it never
+even entered his thoughts. In his ignorance he was innocent, and had he
+been less so, would still have possessed in the moral lessons of his
+training a sufficient safeguard. Yet the kiss was to have its results.
+Woman's lips would, to him, bear a different aspect from that of
+heretofore.
+
+And so the days passed very happily, though Leonard's conscience often
+pricked him. Natalie's soul was still in danger.
+
+"Cousin," he said one day--they were sitting among the trees of
+Stormpoint, the girl sketching, he watching her--"Do you----?" He
+stopped, blushing.
+
+She thought the blush very engaging as she looked up with a smile. Women
+rarely looked upon the handsome, innocent face, except smilingly. "Do I
+what, Leonard?" she asked.
+
+"Do you ever think of religion? I am a clergyman, Natalie."
+
+"I think a great deal of religion." Her eyes fell before his. He had
+touched a secret corner of her heart, and at first she shrank; yet the
+touch pleased her; not less so because of his manner which, though he
+was secretly ashamed of it, was in his favor. It was not easy for him to
+discuss the topic with her, to play the role of teacher and enlarge upon
+a theme which was far from his thoughts. The fact lent him the grace of
+embarrassment, leading her to believe that the topic was to him a sacred
+one. Truly, her soul was burdened. Who more apt to aid her than this
+young devotee, who had consecrated a life to that knowledge for which
+she yearned?
+
+"You know, Natalie, as a minister----"
+
+"It is your duty to convert me," she interrupted, looking again upward,
+and smiling. "That is what Tabitha says."
+
+"Perhaps Tabitha is right. I think I ought."
+
+"Suppose you were to try, what would you have me do?"
+
+What would he have her do? The man within him cried: "I would have you
+love me, kiss me, pillow my head upon your breast and let me die there!"
+But the man within him was audible only to him. "I would advise you to
+read"--he stopped. What he had been about to say was so utterly
+incongruous--to advise reading the Westminster Confession, when he
+longed to call upon her to read the secrets of his soul!
+
+"I have read enough," she answered. "Lately I have done better"--she
+hesitated; he noted the flushed cheek and downcast eyes, the tremulous
+tone of her voice. She was affected, he believed, religiously. He
+remembered the day on the terrace of Heidelberg, when he had so yearned
+over the wandering soul, and again with his love--for he knew it was
+love, and always had been--was mingled the higher aspiration to
+reconcile the wayward spirit with its Maker. He would have taken her
+hand, but he felt tremulously shy. "What have you done?" he asked
+gently.
+
+Much had been told her of the sweet relief of confession to a priest.
+Here was a confessor, sympathetic, she knew from his tone. Yet she had
+no sins to confess (belief in which incongruity demonstrates her state
+of darkness).
+
+"I--have prayed," she said at length, and the shy admission seemed to
+create a bond between them. Another shared her confidence, and the fact
+lightened her spirit. She told herself it was so, and had it been true
+the future might have been brighter; but the real secret of her heart
+was never to be told by her to him. She looked up, a faint sheen of
+tears in her eyes, a smile upon her lips.
+
+"Indeed, you have done better," he answered, the eyes and the smile
+summoning that inner man with a power hard to resist. "You need no
+guidance from me," he said huskily. "God bless and help you, Natalie!"
+He placed a trembling hand upon her head, as was seemly in a priest,
+and, turning abruptly, walked away.
+
+"Ah!" she sighed, as she watched him. "There must be something in
+religion. Fraeulein Rothe was right, and my dear father was wrong."
+
+Thus Leonard's fears concerning Natalie's salvation were quieted. If she
+prayed, it was plain that she was called, and though her ears might
+still be deaf, she would hear in the appointed time.
+
+Had he comprehended her utter misapprehension as to orthodox tenets, he
+might have been awakened to a stricter sense of duty. But this was his
+first heathen, and he is hardly to be blamed that he did not recognize
+the extent of her ignorance; or, in his lack of knowledge of humanity,
+at all to be blamed that he failed to discern the true nature of her
+religious cravings, alluring to her soul because her soul was hungry;
+for God, perhaps--for who shall say that God has no part in human
+love?--but not for Leonard's God. He had never been informed of the
+deceased philosopher's method of training, and would, certainly, have
+doubted its success had he known of it. That one could attain years of
+discretion in a Christian country, lacking even an elementary knowledge
+of Christian doctrine, would have been to Leonard incredible. He could
+not remember the time that he had not known that in Adam's fall we all
+fell, and that had there been no Atonement there would be no Salvation.
+For so much, and similar doctrinal essentials, he accorded Natalie full
+credit; and, since she had escaped the taint of Romanism, he felt that
+no real obstacle stood in the way of her growth in grace.
+
+Meanwhile, Natalie had no more knowledge that, unless her name had been
+from before creation inscribed upon the roll of the elect, she must, for
+the glory of God, infallibly be damned, than has a Patagonian. She felt
+that outside of humanity there was something on which humanity must
+lean, and that it was God. Priests, sisters of charity and sweet girls
+like Paula knew about God, and all these had told her that the way to
+find out what they knew was to pray; and, in her outer darkness, she
+prayed, her prayers the prayers of a heathen; not heard in heaven, if we
+are correctly informed as to heaven's willingness to hear. Yet to her
+they brought some solace. And in her petitions for enlightenment of her
+ignorance, she besought happiness for others, not for Mark Claghorn
+only; henceforth she included the name of Leonard.
+
+As for him, he was no longer haunted by troublesome recollections of
+Berthe. He thought of her, it is true, and with tenderness, though with
+a smile, and accusing himself of youthfulness. He was now sure that he
+had never seriously loved her. It had been a _penchant_, a _petit
+amour_--the Gallic flavor of the words was not altogether
+ungrateful--and the experience would have its uses. These things
+happened to some men; happy they who escaped them; a humdrum life was
+safer. Sinning was dangerous; to weaklings, fatal; such a one would have
+been burned in the ordeal of fire. He had escaped, nor had he any
+intention of being again taken unawares. He did not attempt to palliate
+the grave wrong of which he had been guilty; he would have resented such
+palliation on the part of an apologist. In certain sins there lurks a
+tinge of glory, and one has a right, accepting the blame, to appropriate
+the glory. But his resolve that the one misstep should be the last, as
+it had been the first of his life, was sternly made. He was strong now,
+and was glad to admit that much of his strength derived its power from a
+sweeter passion glowing in his bosom. His heart swelled with joy that he
+could love, feeling only such misgivings as lovers must. It was a sin to
+love and long for Berthe whom he wouldn't marry. To transfer to Natalie
+the love he had given to Berthe, to hunger and to burn, to feed his eyes
+upon the outward form, unheeding the fairer creature within, to revel in
+visions and forbidden dreams--this was love, this the lesson his
+carefully guarded life had prepared him to learn from wanton lips.
+
+Who, being in love, has not shown himself to the loved one at his best?
+If he was unquiet within, he was sufficiently tranquil in manner to
+avoid any startling manifestation of ardor. If there was art in the
+graceful coyness of his approach, it was unconscious art. To Natalie he
+appeared with more alluring gentleness, and surer fascination, than the
+most practised veteran of love's battles. She had seen chivalrous
+elegance so studied as to charm by its seeming unaffectedness; but the
+most successful picture is not reality, and in Leonard she noted the
+nature superior to art; nature softened and adorned by demeanor graced
+and made tender by the inward tremors of love, as a rugged landscape is
+beautified by the mellow tint of a gray day.
+
+Above all, though if this was known in secret it was unconfessed, was
+Leonard aided by that which was to be forever hidden in the woman's
+heart. There were rumors of Mark's return, rumors which agitated
+Natalie, strive as she might to look forward to that return without
+emotion. How could she leave the home where love had been so generously
+bestowed? Mrs. Joe would no longer be ashamed that she had given her
+warning--and Natalie had not been sorry to believe that the lady was
+ashamed--for she would know that it had been needed. And Miss
+Claghorn--how would she understand it? How Paula? Perhaps she saw, if
+but dimly yet, an escape from the perplexities which inspired the
+questions.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+A LOVER WRITES A LETTER.
+
+
+If a Parisian philosopher, animated by the love of that wisdom which is
+deducible by philosophic methods from the study of mankind, had emerged
+from his abode, on a certain summer evening, in quest of the solution of
+that great riddle, Why is this thus? and, seeking an answer, had scanned
+the visages of the passers upon the Boulevard, he would, perhaps, have
+noticed the face and bearing of a man who strolled alone and listless;
+and, it being a fine evening of early summer, at an hour when,
+philosophers having dined, are ruminative, he might have fallen into
+speculation, and asking himself the meaning of this man's face, would,
+perhaps, have deduced discontent, becoming habitual and tending toward
+cynicism; and if a philosopher of the weeping, rather than the laughing
+variety, he would have mourned over the atom of humanity, beneath whose
+careworn lines and shadows of dissatisfaction there lay forgotten noble
+promise. And, to sum up the philosophic conclusions (for, like other
+philosophers, our hypothetical lover of wisdom is growing tiresome) he,
+being aware of the cause of much mundane misery, might have decided that
+the man had lost money, and would have been wrong, for the man was one
+whom financial loss could hardly touch. The Great Serpent might refuse
+to yield for weeks, aye forever, and Mark Claghorn would have been
+content. In truth, its annual product was a burden heavier than he
+thought he ought, in fairness, to be called upon to bear. He liked
+companionship, being naturally well disposed toward his fellows, yet, as
+he said to himself, the loneliness of this evening stroll in the centre
+of mirth and good fellowship had its reason in his wealth. A man such as
+he, so he told himself, is forced, in the nature of things, to purchase
+all the joys of life, and being purchased they had but slight attraction
+for him; thus ordinarily he was solitary and somewhat given to
+brooding, though wise enough to utter no complaint on a score wherein he
+certainly would have found but slight sympathy.
+
+He strolled on, paying little heed to any, except when occasionally the
+clank of a sabre or the faint jingle of a spur signified a cavalryman in
+the vicinity; then he would glance at the cavalryman, and with a quickly
+satisfied curiosity, pass on, listless as before.
+
+He entered a cafe, and calling for a "bock," lit a cigar and proceeded
+to seek distraction in tobacco and beer, while looking over the pages of
+the "_Vie Parisienne_," but apparently found no amusement in that very
+Gallic periodical. At last he drew a letter from his pocket. "Little
+Paula," he muttered, as he opened the sheet, and his tone was kindly, if
+not tender. "I suppose, in the end, my mother will see the fulfilment of
+the wish she thinks so carefully concealed," he muttered, and then, as
+if to find encouragement to filial duty in the letter itself, he
+commenced to read, and was thus engaged when he felt a hand upon his
+shoulder, and heard the exclamation, "Claghorn!" He looked up and,
+rising, accepted the outstretched hand of Adolphe de Fleury.
+
+"I was not sure whether it was you or your ghost," said Adolphe. "When
+did you leave America?"
+
+"Over a year since," replied Mark; then, unmindful of the look of
+surprise in the face of his companion, he added: "I hoped I might meet
+you. I am only here for a few hours, and the opportunity to congratulate
+you----"
+
+"To congratulate! May I ask why I am to be congratulated?" interrupted
+the lieutenant.
+
+"Usually a newly married man; or one about to be----"
+
+"Claghorn, you can hardly--do you mean that you believed me married?"
+
+"Married, or about to be. I heard from the Marquise while at St.
+Petersburg----"
+
+"And I have suspected you! Know, my dear fellow, though I had rather you
+heard it from somebody else, that I am very far from married. I am
+jilted; abandoned by our fair but cruel cousin, who has fled from my
+mother's protection and taken refuge among the Yankees."
+
+"Do you mean that Natalie is in America?"
+
+"Just that, _mon cher_, and with her Berthe of the wonderful eyes."
+
+Mark's innocence of all knowledge of the fact stated was evident in his
+face. He was astounded; at the same time a sense of joy swept across his
+soul. He looked hastily at his watch; it was too late to call upon the
+Marquise, unless, indeed, she had company, in which case he would not be
+able to see her alone. But, looking at his watch inspired him with an
+excuse to plead an appointment, which he did, and left his companion.
+
+The next day he called upon Madame de Fleury, and on his return to his
+hotel, he wrote the following letter:
+
+     "My Dear Cousin Natalie--Last night I arrived here direct from
+     St. Petersburg, being merely a bird of passage, and on my way
+     to London. I had expected to be there by this time, but after
+     meeting Adolphe de Fleury, I deferred my departure until I
+     could see the Marquise. Doubtless, my letters in London will
+     convey the information which has been imparted by her. To say
+     that I was surprised to hear that you had gone to America
+     hardly expresses my feeling; but surprise is cast into the
+     shade by gratification. Now that your reasons for the step you
+     have taken have been so freely disclosed to me by Madame de
+     Fleury (who insisted upon reading to me passages from your
+     letters), I hope you will not regard it as intrusive in me if I
+     express my admiration of your independence and complete
+     approbation of your conduct. You are in spirit a true American,
+     and I congratulate both you and our country upon the fact. Do
+     you remember the day I said 'good-bye' to you? Had you then any
+     inkling of the true reason for my adieu? Your father had just
+     informed me that since girlhood you had been the betrothed of
+     Adolphe de Fleury. Monsieur Claghorn at the time assured me
+     that had not this been the case I should have had his good
+     wishes in regard to the aspirations I had just laid before him.
+     I have never laid those aspirations before you, nor can I do so
+     adequately in a letter; nor at this time, when so long a period
+     has elapsed since I last saw you. What I have to say must be
+     said in person, and so unsatisfactory is this method of
+     addressing you on the subject that I may not send this letter.
+
+     "But, if you receive it, understand why I write it. It seems,
+     perhaps, laughable--though it does not seem so to me--that I
+     should be haunted by a terror which darkens the new hope that
+     has arisen within me. You are thousands of miles away. True, it
+     is not easily conceivable that you may become lost to me in so
+     brief a residence in America, yet the idea is constantly with
+     me. I blame that which I then believed the honorable reticence
+     which I ought to maintain toward you after my interview with
+     your father, and having heard his assurances of intentions,
+     which I, of course, supposed were approved by you. Had I shown
+     you the least glimpse of a sentiment which it cost me much to
+     conceal, I might now be freed from the dread which oppresses
+     me. I am even tempted to send you a telegraphic message; yet I
+     picture you reading such a message and shrink from seeming
+     ridiculous in your eyes. As to this letter, I am impelled to
+     say as much as I have said while that which I desire to say is
+     plainly enough indicated. I had supposed it possible to
+     disclose and yet conceal it. But the letter is wiser than I
+     intended it to be. My most ardent hope is that within a few
+     days after its receipt you will listen to all that is here
+     omitted.
+
+     "Faithfully,
+
+     "MARK CLAGHORN."
+
+He sent the letter, unsatisfactory and feeble as he knew it to be. He
+chafed at the necessity of deferring his departure for America; but the
+Great Serpent was importunate, and even for love a man cannot disregard
+the claims of others. Engagements connected with the mine, made long
+since, must receive attention before he could leave Europe.
+
+But, during the intervals of business, even pending its details, he was
+hourly tempted to send a dispatch and be ridiculous. But he refrained.
+He sailed for America four days after sending the letter. He had not
+been absurd; his dignity was saved. Who that is wise in a wise
+generation listens to intuitions?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+A KISS THAT MIGHT HAVE LINGERED ON HIS LIPS WHILE SEEKING ENTRANCE AT
+THE GATE OF HEAVEN.
+
+
+At the foot of the cliff whereon Mrs. Joe had erected a monument to the
+Great Serpent in the form of a castle, the ocean beats in calm weather
+with a sullen persistence which increases with the rising wind from
+spiteful lashing into furious pounding against the unshaken crag,
+accompanied by a roar of futile rage. Stormpoint affords no nook of
+shelter for a distressed craft, and the rocks, submerged beneath the
+vexed waters, render the coast hereabout even more dangerous than does
+the sheer wall of stone which appals the mariner caught in the storm and
+driven shoreward. Once around the point, the little harbor of
+Easthampton offers safety, but it has happened that vessels, unable to
+weather Stormpoint, have been dashed against the rocks and human beings
+have been tossed about in the seething foam beneath the crags; or men
+have clung to wreckage in sight of wailing wives and mothers, and of
+children to be orphaned in the rush of the next black billow.
+
+From the rocks hereabout no lifeboat can be launched at times when
+lifeboats are needed, therefore the coast-guard station is nearer the
+harbor, where there is a beach upon which the waves slide upward,
+spending their strength, and where even in the storm they can be ridden
+by resolute men; but no boat can live among the rocks in the raging
+waters beneath the cliff. And so, Mrs. Joe, with the approval of the
+authorities, had built on the ledge of the cliffside (enlarged and
+widened for the purpose) a house, in which were kept appliances for
+casting lines athwart wrecked craft. There were plenty to ridicule the
+benevolent lady, some on the score of the futility of preparing for an
+improbable disaster (less than a dozen ships had been lost there in a
+century; and probably not, in all that time, a hundred lives); others
+because while yet another ship might be driven thither, no human effort
+could then avert her doom. Mrs. Joe, notwithstanding these arguments,
+carried out her intention, and waited, hoping that she would never be
+justified by the event.
+
+One day Natalie and Leonard were in the "wreck house," as the structure
+had come to be called; a high wind, constantly increasing, was blowing,
+and from their position they saw all the grandeur of the ocean, rolling
+in majesty toward the wall of rock, an assailing mass, seeming inspired
+with malevolent intelligence and boundless strength, but, caught by the
+sunken rocks, the onset would be broken, and, bellowing with rage, each
+mighty billow would recede, only to be followed by another, as angry and
+as awful of aspect as the last.
+
+It was a sight before which human passion was cowed and human pride was
+humbled. As Leonard watched Natalie, silently contemplating the grandeur
+of the scene, her dark hair blowing back from the smooth white brow,
+beneath which eyes, as unfathomable as the ocean itself, looked
+yearningly out into the storm, he had a clear perception that the
+emotions he had harbored and nourished as to this woman were unworthy of
+the soul in her fathomless eyes. In the presence of nature, feebly
+stirred as yet, but with a promise of the mighty strength restrained,
+and perhaps, too, his nobler self responding unconsciously to the purity
+of the woman at his side, the grosser passion that had vexed him was
+subdued; desire for the woman was lost in desire to share the woman's
+heart.
+
+The darkening heavens sinking into the gloom of the ocean, where in the
+distance the rolling masses of cloud and water seemed to meet, the
+roaring wind, the waves booming on the cliff, and the boiling cauldron
+of death beneath their feet--in the presence of these things words could
+not utter thoughts unutterable; they stood long silent.
+
+"Who, then, is this, that He commandeth even the winds and the water,
+and they obey Him?" Leonard heard her murmur these words.
+
+"Who, indeed?" he said. "How can man deny God in the face of this?"
+
+"In the face of anything?"
+
+"Or deny His Revelation? Natalie, it is true."
+
+"Is it true?"
+
+"As true as the waters or the sky--Natalie, Natalie, it is true."
+
+His tone trembled with a tenderness deeper than the tenderness of
+passion. She looked and saw his eyes with a sheen of tears upon them; no
+gleam of earthly desire looked out of them, but the yearning for a soul.
+In the presence of the Majesty of God the nobler spirit had awakened and
+answered to the longing of the girl to know the secret of the waves, the
+rocks, the skies; the secret of herself and of the man beside her--the
+eternal truth, hidden always, yet always half revealed to questioning
+man.
+
+"Religion is very dear to you, Leonard?"
+
+"Dearer than all but God Himself. Dearer than riches, honors--dearer,
+Natalie, than the love I bear for you."
+
+It was said without the usual intent of lover's vows, and so she
+understood it. She made no answer.
+
+And then they saw a sight which made them forget all else--a
+fellow-creature, driving helplessly to destruction beneath their feet.
+
+It was a lad, ignorant, it would seem, of the management of the frail
+vessel in which he was the sole passenger. Even in the hands of an
+experienced sailor the little boat, intended for smooth water only,
+would have been unsafe; now, unskilfully fitted with a mast and sail,
+managed by ignorant hands, and driven toward a coast that had no
+shelter, the storm rising each moment, the outlook was desperate for the
+voyager.
+
+Leonard seized a trumpet from the appliances with which the wreck-house
+was furnished, and leaning far out of the window, bawled in stentorian
+tones, some order, which, whether heard by the boy or not, was unheeded.
+Indeed, the desperate situation seemed to have paralyzed him; he clung
+to the tiller with the proverbial clutch of the drowning man, utterly
+incapable of other action, if indeed other action could prevail.
+
+Seizing a line, Leonard ran down the stairway to a platform built
+against the cliff and not many feet above the water. Natalie followed.
+The wind was rising every moment, the tide running higher with each
+succeeding wave, and now, as she noticed, even reaching the platform.
+Leonard noticed, too. "It is not safe here," he shouted to her, for the
+wind howled in their ears and the noise of the surge emulated the noise
+of the wind. At the same time he pointed to the stairway, signifying
+that she should return, but took no further heed of her. His one thought
+was to do the thing that would save the life in peril. She did not know
+what he was about to do, but watched him, ready to lend assistance,
+though without taking her eyes from the boy in the boat. Thus far it had
+escaped the sunken rocks, but it could not long escape the shore. The
+wind had blown the sail from its fastenings and it tossed upon the
+waves. Only the whirlpool formed by the sunken rocks and the sullenly
+receding waters, which had but a moment before been hurled against the
+cliff, stayed the wreck of the craft. It needed no experienced eye to
+recognize the imminence of the peril of the boy, and the sight of the
+solitary being, helpless and exposed to the rude mercy of the waves, was
+pitiful. Natalie wrung her hands and prayed in French, and while the
+infidel prayed the clergyman acted.
+
+He had intended to cast the weighted end of the line across the boat and
+so give its passenger communication with the shore; even so, the case of
+the lad would have been but slightly bettered, since, though fast to the
+rope, to avoid being dashed against the rocks would be barely possible;
+but Leonard, almost in the act of throwing, saw that his intention was
+impracticable. He must wait until the boat had come a little nearer.
+Natalie, with alarm that was almost horror, saw him remove his coat and
+boots; she would have remonstrated, but she felt that remonstrance was
+useless. He stood a waiting hero, his whole being absorbed in the task
+before him. That task involved his plunging into the boiling surf, the
+very abyss of death. Who can say that some premonition of the future was
+not upon him, as, with uplifted head and watching eyes, he stood
+statue-like awaiting the supreme moment? Who knows but he was warned
+that better for him the whirlpool below than the woman at his side!
+
+Keenly watching the boat, his hands had still been busy, and from the
+line he had fashioned a loop, which now he fitted over his head and
+beneath his armpits. The other end of the line he secured to a ring in
+the platform, and then, having said nothing to Natalie, but now taking
+her hand in his own, and holding it tightly, he waited.
+
+Not long. As in a flash she saw the boat in fragments, the boy in the
+water, and in the same instant Leonard plunged in.
+
+She seized the line, but let it have play. Leonard had reached the boy
+in one stroke, had him in his very grasp, when a huge receding wave tore
+them asunder, and both were lost to Natalie.
+
+She pulled with all her strength. She knew that the boy was drowned and
+had no hope for Leonard; her hold of the rope aided in his rescue, as
+she was able to prevent his being carried away; but had it not been that
+the next wave swept him upon the platform, where he was instantly seized
+and dragged far backward by Natalie, who herself barely escaped being
+swept off, he must have been either drowned or dashed dead against the
+rocks.
+
+For some minutes she believed him drowned. She had dragged him to a
+place of comparative safety and he lay quite still with his head in her
+lap. But after awhile he sighed and looked into her eyes, and at last
+sat up. "The boy?" he said.
+
+"Gone," she sobbed.
+
+After some moments he arose, and feebly enough, assisted her to rise,
+and they sat upon the stairway, and after awhile got into the
+wreck-house. Here Leonard knew where to find restoratives, as well as a
+huge blanket, in which he wrapped himself and Natalie.
+
+And so they sat side by side, enveloped in one covering, both quite
+silent, until he said: "Natalie, I have been praying."
+
+"Teach me, Leonard."
+
+"While I live," he answered, and he turned his face and kissed her.
+
+It was the second time that he had kissed woman, but this was a kiss
+that might have lingered on his lips while seeking entrance at the gate
+of heaven.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+A DISHONEST VEILING OF A WOMAN'S HEART.
+
+
+There was joy at Stormpoint. Before the eyes of Mrs. Joe there rose the
+vision of a senate spell-bound by the resonant voice of oratory, while
+in the same foreshadowing of the time to come Paula beheld Father
+Cameril triumphant over the Bishop and strong in reliance upon the
+stalwart arm of a soldier newly enrolled in the army of the Church
+Militant. Mark had returned, and it was while gazing upon his
+countenance that these seers saw their delectable visions and dreamed
+their pleasant dreams.
+
+Upon this, the first evening of his return, the three sat together in
+the library of Stormpoint, Mark submitting, with that external grace
+which becomes the man placed upon a pedestal by worshipping woman, to
+the adoration of his mother and of Paula; the while secretly ungrateful
+and chafing because it was not possible to see Natalie before bedtime.
+
+They had dined cosily together, and the wanderer had been treated as the
+prodigal of old, the substitute for fatted calf being the choicest
+viands procurable and the rarest vintage of the Stormpoint cellar; yet
+he had not enjoyed his dinner, being oppressed by vague forebodings; and
+it was irksome to feign a smiling interest where could be no interest
+until he had received an answer to his letter to Natalie. Naturally, he
+had inquired as to the welfare of all the Claghorns of the vicinity, and
+had expressed satisfaction at replies which indicated health and
+prosperity among his relatives.
+
+"I would have asked them all to dinner," said Mrs. Joe, "but I knew that
+they would understand that we would be glad to have you to ourselves
+to-night. Leonard and Natalie are always considerate."
+
+"Leonard was always a favorite of yours," observed Mark, who did not
+greatly relish this coupling of names, and who could hardly trust
+himself to discuss Natalie.
+
+"A good young man," replied the lady. "He is almost one of us."
+
+Mark looked quizzically at Paula, who blushed but said nothing. The
+blush was a relief to him. "He is a fine fellow," he said, heartily. "I
+have always believed in Leonard, though I don't admire his profession or
+his creed. But there are good men among theologians, and I'm sure he is
+one of them."
+
+"But, my son," remonstrated Mrs. Joe, "that is not the way to talk of
+clergymen."
+
+"Fie! mother. Would you deny that there are good men among the clergy?"
+
+"Mark, you know I meant something very different. We only wish Leonard
+was in the Church."
+
+"How can he be out of it, being a Christian?"
+
+"There is but one Church," observed Paula gravely.
+
+"The Holy Catholic Church," added Mrs. Joe.
+
+"Which term you and Paula assume as belonging especially to your
+denomination," laughed Mark. "I doubt if even your own divines would be
+so arrogant. Mother, this young saint is evidently as intolerant as
+ever; and she is making you like herself," and he placed his hand,
+kindly enough, on the girl's shoulder.
+
+Her eyes filled with tears. "Mark," she said, "you may laugh at me, but
+religion ought to be sacred."
+
+"Both you and your religion ought to be, and are," he answered, and
+stooped and kissed her forehead; and, though she did not look up, for
+she dared not meet his eyes, he was forgiven.
+
+The elder lady was surprised, but she noted Mark's action with high
+approval. Of all the hopes that she had woven round her son, that one
+which contemplated his marriage with Paula was supreme. She had trained
+the girl for this high destiny, though, true to her instincts, she had
+been as politic in this as in other objects of ambition, and neither of
+the two whose fortunes she intended to shape were in her confidence. She
+rightly divined that nothing would so surely incite to rebellion on the
+part of Mark as an open attempt to control him in a matter of this
+nature, and was wise enough to know that a disclosure of her hopes to
+Paula would place the girl in a false position, whereby she must
+inevitably lose that engaging simplicity which, aside from her beauty,
+was her greatest charm. The lady had, as we know, been compelled by the
+exigencies of policy to impart her cherished plan to more than one
+individual; and after she had done so to Natalie, she had been in terror
+until opportunity occurred to insure silence.
+
+"You see, my dear," she had explained to Natalie, "he has not actually
+spoken. Paula, like any other girl so situated, knows what is coming,
+but of course----"
+
+"Dear Mrs. Joe, I should not in any case have mentioned the matter."
+
+"I ought to have been more reticent, but----"
+
+"I am sure you did what you thought best," at which reply the lady's
+color had deepened and the subject was dropped.
+
+Thus Mark's action rendered his mother happy, for, notwithstanding her
+sanguine disposition, she had often suffered misgivings. At times,
+during her son's frequent absences, her fears had risen high, and with
+each return home she watched him, narrowly scrutinizing his belongings,
+even going so far as to rummage among his letters, to discover if there
+existed any ground for fear. Her anxieties stilled and their object once
+more under the maternal eye, she was willing, since she must be, that he
+be deliberate in falling in love. She knew men thoroughly, so she
+believed, having known one a little, and was persuaded that the older he
+grew, the more certain was Mark to appreciate that highest womanly
+attribute so plainly discernible in Paula--pliancy. To man, so Mrs. Joe
+believed, that was the supreme excellence in woman. And there had been
+in Paula's reception of Mark's caress a certain coyness, becoming in
+itself, and which had lent an air of tenderness to the little scene.
+Paula had cast her eyes downward in that modest confusion proper to
+maidens and inviting to men; doubtless Mark would be glad to repeat a
+homage so engagingly received.
+
+None of these rosy inferences were shared by Paula. During Mark's last
+sojourn at Stormpoint, which had been immediately after leaving France
+and constant intercourse with the household of Beverley Claghorn, she
+had made her own observations and drawn her own conclusions. Whatever
+the reason for Mark's action, she knew it portended nothing for her, and
+if she had received his fraternal kiss in some confusion, it was because
+she dreaded the possibility of sorrow in store for him, a sorrow
+connected with a secret confided to her within a few hours.
+
+"Now that you are home again, Mark," said his mother, "I want your
+promise not to run away."
+
+"You know men, mother; if I make a promise, I shall inevitably want to
+break it."
+
+"But you wouldn't."
+
+"Better not tempt the weak. Isn't that so, Paula?"
+
+"Better not be weak."
+
+"I am serious, Mark," said Mrs. Joe. "You must consider the future; you
+should plan a career."
+
+"I have no intention of running away; certainly not to-night."
+
+"Nor any night, I hope."
+
+"You know," he said with some hesitation, "it is possible I may have to
+go to California."
+
+"Nonsense! What is Benton paid for? I need you. We ought to select a
+city home, and I want your taste, your judgment."
+
+"My dear mother, the city home will be yours. Why haven't you chosen one
+long since?"
+
+"As if I would without consulting you!"
+
+He smiled, but forebore to remind her that he had not been consulted
+with regard to Stormpoint. "Whatever is your taste is mine," he said.
+"These gilded cages are for pretty birds like you and Paula; as for
+me----"
+
+"That's nonsense. I am willing to keep your nest warm, but----"
+
+"If I were to consult my own taste, I would re-erect old Eliphalet's
+cabin and be a hermit."
+
+"Mark, you actually hurt me----"
+
+"My dear mother, you know I'm joking. About this house, then. New York,
+I suppose, is the place for good Californians."
+
+"It would be pleasanter; but it might be policy to remain in the State."
+
+He looked at her in wonder. "Why?" he asked.
+
+"It was merely an idea," she replied, blushing, and secretly grieved
+that he did not understand. But it was no time to enter into those plans
+which were the fruit of many consultations with Mr. Hacket. "It's
+getting late; good-night, my dear boy. I know you'll try to please me."
+She kissed him, and, with Paula, left the room.
+
+Left alone, he paced up and down the long room, nervously biting a cigar
+which he forgot to light. He knew he would be unable to pass in sleep
+the hours that must elapse before he could see Natalie. He was filled
+with forebodings; the vague fears which had tempted him to send an
+absurd telegraphic message to Natalie had troubled him since he had
+first recognized their presence and had grown in strength with each new
+day. He was unaware that presentiments and feelings "in the bones," once
+supposed to be the laughable delusions of old ladies and nervous younger
+ones, were now being regarded with respectful attention as a part of the
+things undreamed of in Horatio's philosophy; and, taking his attitude
+after the old fashion, he had reasoned with that being which man calls
+"himself," and, for the edification of "himself," had shown to that
+personage the childishness of indulging in vague and ungrounded fears.
+But without success. Philosophers have discovered that which old ladies
+always knew, that all explanations of the wherefore of these mental
+vagaries are unsatisfactory as long as the vagaries persist; and while
+they do, they vex the wise and foolish alike.
+
+His musings were disturbed by the entrance of Paula, clad in a ravishing
+tea-gown, a dainty fragment of humanity. "Mark," she said, "what is the
+matter?" for she had been quick to notice and had been startled by the
+gloom of his face.
+
+"Tired, Paula," and he smiled. Somehow Paula always made him smile.
+
+"If I were tired, I would go to bed," she observed with a faint touch
+of sarcasm. "I won't advise bed to you, for I know that you do not
+credit me with much sense."
+
+"Yet it is plain that you have more than I, since you have indicated the
+sensible course," he answered pleasantly. "That should be placing you in
+high esteem, since we all think well of ourselves."
+
+"Forgive me," she said with real sorrow for her petulance, for which she
+perhaps could have given no reason; "but I have seen that you were
+troubled----"
+
+"And like a dear little sister you overflow with sympathy. Was there
+ever anybody kinder or better than you? But the real fact is that I am
+simply tired--yet not sleepy."
+
+"Well"--she sighed wistfully--"you will feel rested to-morrow. I came
+down to give you this from Natalie," handing him a note. "I would have
+waited until morning, but I----"
+
+"Did right, as you always do," he answered, kissing her cheek and saying
+good-night, and thus dismissing her, with an evident eagerness to read
+the note, not lost upon Paula, and which left her no alternative but to
+leave him.
+
+He opened the envelope and read:
+
+     "Dear Mark--Your letter came this morning, and I have just
+     learned that you will be home to-night. I cannot express to you
+     how glad I shall be to see you again. Before we meet in the
+     presence of others, I hope to see you alone. Your letter, dear
+     Mark, evidently delayed by being addressed in Mr. Winter's
+     care, has cost me some tears, both of joy and sorrow. I am
+     impatient to see you, for it seems to me that to you, before to
+     any other, except to Paula (who would have known by intuition),
+     I should disclose the happiness that has come to me in my
+     engagement to Leonard. It is but two days old, and except to
+     Paula, is known only to ourselves. Dear Mark, it has not been
+     easy to write these few lines. I wish I could express in them
+     how sincerely I honor and love you, and how I wish for your
+     happiness. I have commenced to pray, and the first time I knelt
+     to heaven I prayed for you; and so long as I shall continue to
+     pray--and I think that will be always now--I shall not forget
+     to beg that you be made happy. I hope you will wander no more,
+     but be oftener with those that love you and who need you more
+     than you perhaps know; and as I shall live either in Hampton or
+     Easthampton, and as I must ever regard you as one of my
+     earliest and my best friend, I hope we shall see each other
+     often.
+
+     "NATALIE."
+
+     "Oh, Mark, your happiness is at Stormpoint. No one is better,
+     more loving, or more lovable than she."
+
+The letter stunned him. He might, had he known women as well as he
+(being young) believed he did--he might have read the truth in every
+line. He might have seen that were he to rouse his energies and plead
+his cause, he could win it, even yet. He might have heard the
+unconscious cry for rescue from an engagement contracted before his
+letter had reached her; he might have seen, in the pains she had taken
+to tell him that such was the case, his excuse and hers for asserting
+his rights against Leonard. These things were plain enough; perhaps the
+writer had intended that they should be; not consciously, indeed; but
+from that inner being who is part of all of us, the desperate hope of
+the girl's heart had not been hidden as she wrote, nor was her pen
+entirely uncontrolled by it.
+
+But the postscript obscured his vision. He laughed contemptuously and
+thought, as men will think, "It is thus that woman estimates love. She
+is sorry for me, and suggests that the consolation I may need I shall
+find in Paula!" He did not recognize that in the postscript was the real
+dishonesty of the letter; that it was the salve to the conscience of the
+writer, believing that in the letter itself she had said too much,
+whereas she had said too little for the perception of a man in the haze
+of jealousy. Such gleams of truth as might otherwise have been visible
+to Mark could not penetrate that dishonest veiling of the woman's
+heart.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+A MAN ABOUT TO MEET A MAID.
+
+
+One may approach the White House by way of the High Street of
+Easthampton, of which thoroughfare the dwelling in question is a
+conspicuous ornament; but for such as prefer a more secluded road, a
+grassy lane behind the houses affords direct access to Miss Claghorn's
+garden.
+
+Mark chose the lane. Since, in obedience to Natalie's request, he must
+see her, he hoped to find her in the garden, where there would be less
+danger of interruption.
+
+The birds twittered in the trees, joyous in the new day; the dew
+glimmered on the grass-blades; the scent of flowers from adjacent
+gardens perfumed the fresh air of a perfect summer morning. On such a
+morning a man about to meet a maid should have trod the earth lightly.
+But Mark lingered as he walked, reluctant to hear his fate pronounced by
+lips which he longed to kiss, but could never kiss; lips, therefore, it
+were better not to see. Yet, since he had been summoned, he must go on;
+and because of the summons there were moments when he still, if faintly,
+hoped. Hope dies hard; and, notwithstanding the forebodings which had
+vexed him ever since he had written the letter (for which writing he had
+since cursed his folly), there had been times when hope had risen high,
+and, as he even now assured himself, not without reason. If he had been
+self-deceived, it had not been from the complacency of the coxcomb.
+Surely she had loved him, or had been willing to love, had that been
+permitted her.
+
+In arguing thus he was not reasoning unfairly. He had been
+unintentionally deceived by the philosopher, Beverley Claghorn, who had
+permitted the intercourse between his daughter and this young man,
+partly from carelessness, more because he approved of a cousinly
+friendship of which one of the partakers was able to gratify a noble
+sentiment by an addition to the dowry of the other. It had been by
+pointing out this ability that he had assuaged the misgivings of the
+Marquise; at the same time so solemnly reiterating his loyalty to the
+treaty with that lady, that when Mark's disclosure came it had been
+impossible for him to receive it otherwise than he had done--by a
+regretful rejection. He had been astounded by the avowal, for he had
+noted no sighs, no posturing, no eloquent apostrophes or melting glances
+from this suitor who approached him with a tale of love, having never
+displayed a visible sign of the tender passion. M. Claghorn's
+observation of lovers had long been confined to one variety. He forgot
+that Anglo-Saxon swains are less prone to languish in public than their
+brothers of Gaul. Had Adolphe de Fleury been in Paris there would have
+been more frequent flowers, scented billets, rapt gazes, rolling eyes
+and eloquential phrases; all offered for the general appreciation as
+much as for the lady of his love. In the absence of these familiar
+evidences of ardor, the philosopher was, in his own eyes, acquitted of
+responsibility for the surprising fact which Mark had imparted to him.
+For, how could he suspect a legitimate passion in a youth who had yet to
+sow his wild oats, and one with the capacity for acquiring an unlimited
+field for that delightful, if futile, and generally expensive,
+husbandry? No man of Mark's years could be so wise--or so foolish. That
+was, as the philosopher viewed human nature, not in such nature. The
+case was different with Adolphe de Fleury, compelled by circumstances to
+seize the most attractive dowry that fell in his way; and even that
+gallant but impecunious soldier was, doubtless, cultivating a modest
+crop as sedulously as circumstances permitted.
+
+Thus had Mark been the victim of a philosophic mode of thought and had
+bowed to that which he had supposed would be the filial, as it had been
+the paternal, decision; saying good-bye, sadly, doubtless, but without
+betrayal of that which he believed would not be gladly heard, nor could
+be honorably disclosed.
+
+The ocean lay between him and the woman that he loved before he fully
+realized how much must be henceforth lacking in his life, and when
+repentance was too late he repented that he had taken the philosopher's
+word for a fact of which he now sometimes doubted the existence. Many
+memories whispered that she, too, had loved. No word of hers had told
+him this; but love is not always told in words--and then he would accuse
+himself of the folly of permitting vain longings to control his
+judgment. Nevertheless, when, while still at Stormpoint, he had heard of
+the sudden death of Beverley Claghorn, he had resolved to do that which
+before he had omitted, to appeal to Natalie herself, when, most
+inopportunely, there came a letter from the Marquise to Mrs. Joe; a
+letter which informed the relatives of the deceased that the death of
+the father would hasten, rather than retard, the marriage of the
+daughter, who had already taken up her residence with the writer of the
+epistle, in accordance with the wish of her father. Not long after the
+receipt of that letter Mark had started for Russia, leaving France
+unvisited.
+
+He opened the gate which led from the lane into the garden, and
+found--Tabitha.
+
+Who raised her hands in astonishment, then stretched them forth in
+welcome: "And so you're back! For how long this time? More of a Claghorn
+than ever--as grim as one of the Eliphalets."
+
+"No need to ask how you are," said Mark, his grimness softened by her
+heartiness. "You get younger every year. How are my aunt and----"
+
+"And Natalie? Blooming--that's the word. You'll find things different at
+the White House. We haven't had a good spat in months. Soor le ponty
+Avinyon, on y donks, on y donks----"
+
+"_On y danse_," repeated Mark, laughing at Tabitha's French in spite of
+himself.
+
+"Yes; even my old legs. Your aunt's are too stiff. But we young things,
+that's Natalie and I, we cut our capers," and in the exuberance of her
+spirits Miss Cone essayed a caper for Mark's benefit.
+
+"Such grace, Tabby----"
+
+"Is worth coming from Russia to see. I'm practising; there's to be great
+doings here before long. What would you say to a wedding?"
+
+"Let me salute the bride?" he said, with an attempt at gaiety which, to
+himself, seemed rather sickly, and suiting his action to the word.
+
+"Well!" ejaculated Miss Cone, adjusting her cap, "many a man's had his
+ears boxed for that. However, I suppose it's in the air around here--but
+you're mistaken. I'm not the bride."
+
+"Surely, not Aunt Achsah?"
+
+"As if you couldn't guess! But don't say I told you. The fact is I'm so
+full of it I blabbed without thinking."
+
+"Then it's a secret?"
+
+"It won't be after to-day. Leonard told us last night. I suppose your
+aunt'll tell your ma to-day."
+
+Mark promised to say nothing and went toward the house. Miss Claghorn
+welcomed him cordially, but made no reference to the subject of
+Tabitha's disclosures, though traces of her agreeable agitation were
+visible. "There's Natalie, now!" she exclaimed after some minutes had
+been spent in conversation sufficiently dreary to one of the two.
+
+The thundering of a horse's hoofs told of a wild gallop. The old lady
+rushed from the house, followed by Mark, dismayed by her action and the
+alarm expressed in her countenance. He reached the gate in time to
+assist Natalie to dismount.
+
+"My dear child!" exclaimed the elder lady reproachfully.
+
+She was grasping Mark's hands in welcome. Her face was flushed; her dark
+hair, disturbed by the pace at which she had ridden, hung low upon her
+forehead; he had never seen her so beautiful--nor so happy. His face was
+pale, his hands cold in hers.
+
+"Dear Aunt," she said, "I felt as though I must gallop; I didn't mean to
+in the High Street; I couldn't hold him."
+
+"He was homeward bound," said Mark, turning to look at the horse, now
+being led away by Miss Achsah's "man." "He's a handsome beast."
+
+"I have much to ask you about the Marquise," said Natalie to Mark, as
+they went into the house, whereupon Miss Claghorn left them.
+
+The short-lived bloom of her face was gone; she was deadly pale. She
+stretched her ungloved hands toward him; it might have been a gesture
+of appeal. He dared not take them in his own; his longing to clasp her
+to his heart was too great to risk the contact. She dropped her arms.
+
+"You wished to see me--to ask me----" He paused; his voice sounded stern
+in his ears, but he had no power over it.
+
+"To--to say something. Give me a moment."
+
+As she turned toward the window he caught a glimpse of the sheen of
+tears. A mighty impulse raised his arms as though to clasp her; then
+they fell.
+
+    "What fates impose, that man must need abide."
+
+She turned toward him. "I thought there was much to say. There
+is--nothing."
+
+"Nothing for you; for me, something. It is to wish you all happiness, to
+assure you of my constant--friendship."
+
+"And that is needless. We shall always be friends, warm friends, Mark.
+Let it be so. And--there is something more. I should not have written as
+I did of Paula; I had no right. But--since I am your friend, and you are
+mine----"
+
+"We shall be. Even so, give me a little time."
+
+His words were accompanied by a sardonic smile. The words and the smile
+silenced her. There was a pause.
+
+"Has the Marquise forgiven me?" she asked at length.
+
+"She will in time. By the way, I saw Adolphe. I hope he did not
+persecute----"
+
+"No, no. He left that to his mama," she answered, laughing. "To Adolphe,
+as a cousin, I had no objection; but----"
+
+"You have chosen more wisely," he said gravely. "I wish you happiness,
+Natalie." He held out his hand; she took it, her own trembling. "God
+bless you, Cousin." His lips brushed her cold cheek, then he was gone.
+
+She watched him from the window; her face was very white, her hands
+tightly clenched. So she stood until he had passed from view, then she
+went upstairs. In the hall she passed Tabitha, who exclaimed: "You
+scared us all--yourself, too. You look like a ghost."
+
+"Scared?" questioned Natalie.
+
+"Riding like that."
+
+"Like that! I wished the horse had wings."
+
+"You'll have 'em if you don't take care, then----"
+
+"Then I'll fly away." The intensity of her utterance made Tabitha stare.
+Natalie laughed aloud, and left her still staring.
+
+Alone in her room, she paced slowly back and forth, struggling with her
+pride, crushing a forbidden and rejected love. So she regarded it. With
+a wrung heart, Mark had respected her decision, and in the depths of her
+soul she blamed him, scorning the puny passion so easily beaten. "Go to
+Paula," she had written, while "Come to me," her heart had cried so
+loudly that, except he were deaf, he might have heard.
+
+When she had written her letter to Mark she had accomplished a bitter
+task only after a long and desperate struggle. She loved Leonard; she
+had said this to herself over and over again, and it was true; and to
+him she had given her troth freely, fully believing that for him there
+would be happiness and for her content. But the lowest depths of her
+soul had been stirred by the letter from Mark. There were chambers there
+that Leonard had not entered, could never enter, and into which she
+herself dared not look.
+
+Self-sacrifice is to women alluring. That which she had made had been
+made, at least she so believed, with honest intention, yet, since now it
+was irrevocable, it was too hideous to contemplate. She would call him
+back, and on her knees----
+
+Shameful thought! She was betrothed to a man she loved. Had she not
+admitted it? Not to him only, but shyly this very morning to the fond
+old woman to whom she owed so much, whose last days by that very
+admission were brightened by a glorious sunshine never before known in a
+long and gloomy life. Could she now, even if in her own eyes she could
+fall so low--could she fall so low in the eyes of these women by whom
+she was surrounded? In her aunt's eyes and Tabitha's? In Paula's, to
+whom, in loving loyalty, she had herself confided the secret? In those
+of Mrs. Joe, who had so carefully warned her from this preserve? No--to
+that depth she could not descend, not even to bask in the cold and
+passionless love of Mark.
+
+The engagement was received with universal favor. It could hardly be
+otherwise, since all peculiarly interested were of that sex which dearly
+loves to contemplate a captive man, the only male (Leonard, of course,
+excepted) being Mark, whose attitude, being unsuspected, was ignored.
+And the bridegroom was the hero of all these women: the heir of Miss
+Claghorn; the one of the family to whom Tabitha was willing to ascribe
+all the virtues; regarded with affectionate esteem by Mrs. Joe, and, as
+to all except his denominational qualities, worshipped by Paula. As to
+the question of yoking believer and unbeliever, it had certainly
+occurred to all the devotees of the young theologian, but, aside from
+the certainty that truth must find its triumph in the union, the more
+pressing question of clothes for the approaching wedding left but little
+room in pious but feminine minds for other considerations. Events had so
+fallen in with Leonard's wishes that an early marriage was deemed
+advisable in Natalie's interest. Mr. Ellis Winter had encountered
+difficulty with regard to certain property in France belonging to her,
+and her presence in Paris was essential; and it was no less desirable
+that while there she be under the protection of a husband. For, aside
+from other considerations, marriage was the easiest solution of the
+complications which had arisen out of the guardianship of the Marquise,
+which guardianship would legally terminate with Natalie's marriage. And
+these things opened the way for Mark's return to Stormpoint.
+
+"Urgent business" in San Francisco had precluded his attendance at the
+wedding. He wrote Leonard a cordial letter, and he sent to Natalie a
+ruby set in small diamonds, which, Tabitha Cone confidentially imparted
+to Miss Claghorn, was "mean for a billionaire," and which, even in the
+eyes of the latter lady, with whom the donor was a favorite, looked
+paltry. Both would have been surprised and even indignant at the man's
+folly, if they had known that he had bid against a crowned head to get
+the gem, employing a special agent, furnished with _carte blanche_ for
+the purpose. Natalie knew better than they, but it was not of its purity
+or value that she thought, as she looked at the jewel long and
+steadfastly, until a mist of tears suddenly obscured her vision and
+struck terror to her soul.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+MAN WALKETH IN A VAIN SHADOW.
+
+
+Soon after the departure for France of the newly married pair Mark
+returned from San Francisco. During his absence Mrs. Joe had not failed
+to call Mr. Hacket in consultation, and the adviser had reiterated the
+old counsel that the first step in a political career was "to get around
+and get acquainted." In order to induce her son to continue this
+preliminary course it became necessary to disclose her "policy."
+
+Mark, though somewhat languid in the matter, displayed no violent
+reluctance to becoming a statesman. "As to the Presidency," he observed,
+laughing at his mother's lofty ambition, frankly disclosed, "that is the
+heaven of the politician, to be attained only by the elect."
+
+"Nothing's impossible, Mark."
+
+"There's a constitutional provision which will prevent my going in for
+it for some years. Meanwhile, we can investigate and learn how
+Presidents start. One ended as Justice of the Peace; I might try that as
+a beginning."
+
+"A Justice of the Peace!"
+
+"Why so scornful? It's aiming high. The usual course is to begin by
+carrying a banner and shouting."
+
+"Mark, I've set my heart on this."
+
+"My dear mother, blessed is the man or woman that has the wisdom to
+avoid that error."
+
+"My son," said the lady reproachfully, "you seem without interest in
+anything."
+
+"I am older, hence less enthusiastic, than you," he answered, smiling,
+and really believing, perhaps rightly, that, notwithstanding their
+relation, he felt older than she; "but advise me what to do, and I will
+do it. I am not unwilling to be a statesman, only----"
+
+"I have told you----"
+
+"To get about and get acquainted. Good! I'll start at once and collar
+the first voter I meet and demand his friendship." So, laughing, he left
+her, and within an hour Mrs. Joe saw him ride forth from the gates of
+Stormpoint.
+
+During his long ride he admitted the reasonableness of his mother's
+ambition. Aside from the obstacle of great wealth, he was as eligible as
+another for usefulness and such laurels as come to those who honorably
+pursue a political career. He might smile at his mother's lofty dreams,
+yet they were not impossible of attainment; whereas, his own, in so far
+as they offered any allurement, were both unworthy and impossible. "A
+man should do something better than bewail his fate," he muttered;
+"since I cannot love elsewhere I'll be a lover of my country."
+
+Greatly to Mrs. Joe's satisfaction, he thenceforward diligently pursued
+the preliminary requisite of getting around, in so far as that could be
+accomplished by long, solitary rides throughout the region. He seldom
+appeared at dinner without a gratifying account of the acquisition of a
+new rustic acquaintance, while meantime, the lady of Stormpoint saw to
+it that he did not remain unknown to such Hampton magnates as she could
+induce to grace her dinner table, displaying, in the matter of
+hospitality, a catholicity which surprised Paula and amused Mark, who,
+however, was quite willing to be amused.
+
+Philosophers who have made the passion of love a subject of
+investigation (and most philosophers have given some attention to this
+branch of learning) have noticed that the violent death of an old love
+is often quickly followed by the birth of a new one. A jilted man or
+woman is Cupid's easiest prey.
+
+Mrs. Joe may, or may not, have been aware of the truth of the above
+axiom, or its fitness in the case before her; but, having been fairly
+successful in interesting Mark in one object of her "policy," she
+resolved at this time to venture further and urge upon his attention the
+claims of Paula to his love; and, to her great delight, she found him
+not inattentive to the suggestion. He told his mother, truly enough,
+that he had a sincere affection for Paula, and admitted that she was, as
+far as was compatible with humanity, faultless; for it could hardly be a
+fault in Paula that he could feel no throb in his pulse, or glow in his
+bosom, when he recalled her to memory.
+
+"You forget," he said, "that while I might find it easy to love her"
+(which he did not believe), "she might not find it easy to love me."
+
+"You need have no fear." She was about to add that Paula would love
+anybody that loved her, but remembered in time that this might not be
+regarded as a recommendation. "She is the best creature I ever
+knew--almost perfect."
+
+"I believe she is," he assented with a sigh, which was a tribute to
+Paula's perfection. "I fear she is too good for me."
+
+"That's a strange objection."
+
+"I am not so sure," he replied, as he lit a cigar, preparatory to
+leaving the room. But when he was gone, Mrs. Joe felt that he would
+consider the matter, and was content.
+
+Unconsciously to herself, and, perhaps, without the knowledge of those
+by whom she was surrounded, Paula was somewhat harshly treated by
+nature; and that, notwithstanding her beauty. She was the embodiment of
+purity, of affection, of all the sweeter virtues, hence, regarded as
+wanting in those weaknesses which are essential to the symmetry of
+strength; one who lacks the everyday vices of temper, of selfishness, of
+jealousy, is, in some degree, abhorrent to our sense of the fitness of
+things. It is not that we envy the possessor of all the virtues--on the
+contrary, total absence of vice awakens something akin to contempt--but
+we are impatient of a non-combative disposition. The ideal Christian,
+offering the unsmitten cheek, presents a spectacle which, on Sundays, we
+characterize as sublime; the actual Christian, making such a tender, is,
+on any day, an object of scorn. Even of Paula, they who knew her would
+have admitted that it was possible to rouse her to resentment, possibly
+to a deed of vengeance, just as the worm may be made to turn; but, then,
+humanity refuses to admire worms in any attitude.
+
+As Mark prosecuted the study of Paula, it gradually dawned upon him
+that it was interesting. From wondering whether there could be "much in
+her," he attained the conviction that, whether much or little, what
+there was was beyond his ken. "Paula," he asked one day, "are you as
+good as you look?"
+
+"I don't know how good I look, Mark."
+
+"Saintlike."
+
+"Then I am not as good as I look; only I don't think I look as you say."
+
+"Paula, you are a mystery. That's a great thing to be, is it not?"
+(Somehow, he could not help talking to Paula as if she were a child.)
+"Explain the mystery."
+
+"Everybody is a mystery. Explain the mystery."
+
+"Here is an unexpected depth," he exclaimed, with some surprise. "You
+have dared to raise a great question. Let us seek the solution at
+Grandfather Eliphalet's tomb."
+
+The tomb, renovated and neatly railed by that which Miss Claghorn
+secretly regarded as the sacrilegious hand of Mrs. Joe, was near the
+extremity of the Point. When the weary Eliphalet had been laid there to
+rest it had been further inland, but the ever-pounding ocean was
+gradually having its way, day by day encroaching upon the domain of the
+seemingly indestructible rocks.
+
+"The time will come," said Mark, as the two leaned upon the railing,
+"when the sea will claim old Eliphalet's bones."
+
+"And the time will come when the sea will give up its dead," said Paula.
+
+"Perhaps," he answered gloomily; "and to what end? You will answer, in
+order that the dead may be judged. I still ask, to what end?"
+
+"That is the mystery, Mark."
+
+"Not to be answered at Eliphalet's tomb, or elsewhere. Paula, did you
+ever hear of Deacon Bedott?"
+
+"You know, Mark, there are so many deacons in Hampton----"
+
+"This one lived in Slabtown, if I remember right. He was a character of
+fiction, neither very wise nor very entertaining; yet when Deacon Bedott
+lifted up his voice and spake, he formulated one of the Great Truths
+that man can know."
+
+"What did he say?" she asked after a pause.
+
+"We are all poor critters," was the answer, with a grim laugh. "Paula, I
+believe it is the only truth that really does come home to a man."
+
+"It is from the Bible," she said simply.
+
+He looked up. "Do you mean to assert that the Deacon was merely quoting?
+Are you going to destroy my faith in a pet philosopher; he who said all
+that Plato said, or Socrates, or Seneca--or anybody?"
+
+"For man walketh in a vain shadow, and disquieteth himself in vain," she
+answered in a low tone.
+
+There was silence for a moment; at length Mark said: "It seems that the
+Deacon was, after all, a plagiarist."
+
+"I think that perhaps philosophers have discovered few truths concerning
+man that they might not have found in the Bible, and with less labor."
+
+"Paula, do you believe the Bible?"
+
+"Why, Mark! It is God's word."
+
+"And these," he said, pointing to the trees, the crags, the sea; "are
+these God's word?"
+
+"They are His creation; in that sense His word."
+
+"And you and I, and these bones, crumbling a few feet below--these are
+all His creation, and so His word--and we know not what they say."
+
+She looked at him surprised. She had often sorrowed that these things
+did not engage his attention; she was surprised to note his earnestness.
+
+"Paula," he said, "do you know what you were made for?"
+
+"Made for?"
+
+"Leonard would tell you, 'to glorify God, and enjoy Him forever,'" he
+said, "but he would also inform you that the chance of the purpose of
+your creation coming to pass is slim."
+
+"You know I do not subscribe to Leonard's creed," she replied a little
+severely.
+
+"The thirty-nine articles, though less explicit, imply that which
+Leonard's creed has the boldness to state. Yes, Paula, that is the great
+and glorious Hope offered by the Church--damnation for the great
+majority."
+
+"Mark, I do not think I ought to discuss these questions."
+
+"You mean with a scoffer," he said a little bitterly.
+
+"I hope you are not a scoffer. I cannot judge."
+
+"And you decline to find out. Suppose I tell you in all honesty that I
+want to know the reasons for the faith that is in you. That I want to
+know them, so that I may try honestly to adopt them, if I find it
+possible--I don't say easy, Paula, I say possible. Suppose I assure you
+of this, as I do, will you aid me to be what you think I ought to be?"
+
+"Mark," she answered, "I am not competent. Such a one as you should not
+come to such as I."
+
+"Surely you have a reason for your belief! Is it not possible to put it
+into words?"
+
+"Oh, Mark!" She turned and looked upon him; her eyes were brimming with
+tears; she placed her hand upon his arm. "I can help you; I will help
+you. I can direct you to one who can solve your doubts, who can make the
+truth so plain that you must see----"
+
+"And this One is?' he asked reverently.
+
+"Father Cameril."
+
+He burst into a loud laugh which shocked and grieved her. She left him
+and went toward the house; he remained gazing at the tomb.
+
+And there, if he had really contemplated seeking Paula's love, he buried
+the intention with Old Eliphalet. "If your eternal welfare is to your
+wife a matter to be handed over to her priest, your temporal felicity
+will hardly be of moment to her," he thought, as he looked at the smoke
+of his cigar hanging blue in the summer air.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+A PARSON TREADS THE PRIMROSE PATH IN PARIS.
+
+
+"Bel homme!" exclaimed the Marquise de Fleury admiringly.
+
+"_Belle femme!_" echoed the hussar sadly.
+
+"Be everything that is charming, Adolphe, I conjure you. So much depends
+upon Natalie's disposition."
+
+From which brief conversation, which took place as the speakers left the
+hotel where the Leonard Claghorns were established, it may be correctly
+inferred that a friendly reception had been accorded the newly married
+pair by the French relatives of the bride. The noble lady, doubtless,
+felt all the affection for her former ward that she had, during the
+visit, so eloquently expressed, so that inclination prescribed the same
+course that policy would have indicated. The Marquise was still the
+custodian of property belonging to Natalie, and settlement of accounts
+could be much better adjusted in a spirit of indulgent friendship than
+in the cold and calculating spirit of business; and though Natalie and
+her dowry were gone forever, in that distant land whence she had
+returned with a husband, there were golden maids languishing for
+Marquises. "These Yankees," she observed to her son, "they sell their
+souls for money--the men; the women sell their bodies, and such soul as
+goes with them, for titles. Are you not a Marquis, of the _ancien
+regime_? It behooves us, my child, to be gracious to this wedded priest;
+he may know of a _partie_."
+
+"I am so, mama. _Du reste_, he is _beau garcon_, and seems amiable and
+amusing."
+
+"Cultivate him, my infant; a voyage to America may be your destiny. It
+is a rich family--fabulous. There may be maids in plenty among these
+Claghorns."
+
+The two young men, except for the pacific disposition of their
+womankind, might have been inclined to regard one another askance. For,
+in the person of the possessor of Natalie and her dowry the brave hussar
+saw one who however innocently, was still the ravisher of his rights;
+while in this being, in all the glory of fur and feather, sabretache and
+jangling sword, boots and buttons, braid and golden stripes, with a
+pervading tone of red and blue, Leonard beheld a startling and, at
+first, unpleasing creation. But the lieutenant, admonished by his mama,
+and sensible of the interests at stake, and genial by nature, thawed
+almost immediately, and the boulevardier and the theologian were
+friends.
+
+To the young Frenchman a Protestant theologian was a philosopher, rather
+than a priest under vows, hence a person of liberal views and probably
+of lax conduct. As toward a newly married man, and warned incessantly by
+the Marquise, he recognized that etiquette required that from him no
+invitation to dissipation should emanate, but that his attitude ought to
+be that of willingness to pilot the stranger whithersoever he might wish
+to go; occasionally pointing out that paths of pleasantness were open to
+such as might choose to wander in them. And though Leonard displayed no
+undue disposition to such wanderings, an intimacy resulted which was not
+in fact, though seemingly, incongruous.
+
+"What is he like, this beautiful heretic?" asked the Marquise.
+
+"Like a Greek god, as you see, mama."
+
+"But otherwise; he is a priest, you know?"
+
+"And, like other priests, with an eye for a pretty woman."
+
+"But discreet, Adolphe? I hope he is discreet."
+
+"As St. Anthony! Natalie may be easy."
+
+"Be you equally discreet, my child. She has been most generous; and,
+remember, Adolphe----"
+
+"Yes, mama. What am I to remember?"
+
+"That when a woman marries a man for his beauty, it is not love; it is
+infatuation. Do not permit this Leonarr to go astray; he has
+proclivities."
+
+The little hussar laughed. "You are sharp-eyed, mamma."
+
+"Had you watched him before the painting of Eve--but enough. Do nothing
+to cause disquiet to Natalie."
+
+The little man, thus admonished, promised to carefully observe her
+wishes; the more readily as he was aware how important the friendship of
+Natalie was to his mama (in view of the pending adjustment of accounts).
+The more he studied Leonard, the more amusing he found him. To "do"
+Paris (not, indeed, to the extent of the capacity of that capital) in
+company with a priest, was, in itself, a piquant experience. "It is like
+demonstrating to your director how easy it is to sin," he declared; "and
+_ce bon Leonarr_, he imposes no penance. _Tiens!_ These others, these
+Protestants, they have it easy."
+
+"He does not essay to pervert," observed the Marquise in some alarm.
+
+"Be not uneasy. Would I be of a religion whose priests marry? Think of
+the wife of my confessor knowing all my peccadillos!"
+
+"Forgive me. My anxiety was but momentary----"
+
+"Meanwhile, let me help this _pauvre garcon_, whose eyes have, since
+infancy, been bandaged, to see a little bit of the world. It is
+delightful to note his delight."
+
+"But with discretion, Adolphe."
+
+"Do I not assure you he is an anchorite. You have yourself observed that
+he drinks no wine."
+
+"A penance, doubtless. Pere Martin is also abstemious."
+
+"As to _ordinaire_. In the presence of a flask of Leoville, I have noted
+a layman's thirst in _ce bon pere_."
+
+"Do not ridicule Pere Martin, my infant. _Du reste_, it is not wine that
+I fear in the case of this beautiful Leonarr. Continue to be his
+guardian angel, my son."
+
+Under this guardianship Leonard looked at Paris, enjoying his free
+sojourn in a great and brilliant city with hearty, but, on the whole,
+innocent fervor. The sunny skies, the genial good-humor, the eating and
+drinking, the frequent music, the lights, the dapper men, the
+bright-eyed women, the universal alertness--these impart a pleasant
+tingle to Puritan blood; and, if the novice to these delights be young,
+rosy, handsome, of exuberant health, and inclined to the pleasures
+befitting such conditions, he finds Paris grateful to the taste. In
+this congenial atmosphere Leonard basked in guileless rapture. A drive
+in the Bois with Natalie and the Marquise, brilliant equipages dashing
+by, brilliant eyes flashing as they passed, was a rare delight; a stroll
+on the Boulevard was even more enjoyable, for here were more flashing
+eyes and smiling faces, less fleeting, and often coquettishly inviting
+an answering glance. Clothed in the results of the meditations of de
+Fleury's tailor, it became Leonard's frequent habit to haunt the
+Boulevards, indulging in a strut that would have astonished Hampton; and
+often was he inclined to envy the Marquis that lot which had made his
+abiding place among these joys. It would have been fine to be a soldier,
+fine to fight and win glory; to wear boots and spurs and a clanking
+sword, and to trail the same along the pavement as one to the manner
+born!
+
+Of course, that was a day-dream, which he laughed at as easily as an
+older man might have done, though less scornfully. There was no great
+harm in day-dreams, however foolish. This whole existence had the
+character of a pleasant dream. Had he not felt it so, he often mentally
+averred, he would have accepted it more gravely.
+
+"But it will soon be over," he said to Natalie. "It is my first holiday
+since I was a boy."
+
+"Enjoy it all you can. I am glad that Adolphe has been able to make your
+stay pleasant."
+
+"Really, a very amiable little fellow. French, you know, and rather lax
+in his views, I fear; but----"
+
+"His views will not harm you," interrupted Natalie, smiling.
+
+"Certainly not," he replied, a little stiffly. "It would be strange if I
+could not take care of myself. Meanwhile, M. de Fleury is really of
+great advantage to me in one respect."
+
+"And that is?"
+
+"I am improving wonderfully in French. That's a good thing, Natalie, a
+very good thing." He was quite solemn on this point.
+
+"An excellent thing," she replied, somewhat surprised at the gravity
+with which he treated a matter of no great importance. "I wish, Leonard,
+that my affairs were concluded. I am sure you are being kept here
+against your wish."
+
+"Whatever my wish, your affairs ought to come first. Let us be content
+that, if they do drag, I can employ the time in self-improvement."
+
+Thus, in the praiseworthy pursuit of improvement Leonard spent much of
+his time. He was by no means neglectful of his wife, whose attendance,
+with the Marquise, was much in demand in official bureaus, and who
+encouraged his intimacy with the lieutenant, whom she no longer found
+unendurable, and whose amiable and forgiving conduct had won her heart.
+"They are not rich, you know," she said. "Entertain the little man all
+you can; the Marquise was very kind to me." An injunction which afforded
+another reason why it was incumbent on Leonard to procure the Marquis
+the distractions that he loved, in so far as purse and principle
+permitted, and these were found elastic.
+
+Because, as he was forced to admit when arguing with the Marquis, a
+reasonable elasticity is not only proper, but essential to culture.
+
+"_Mon bon_," observed the lieutenant, "the view you advance is narrow.
+The ballet, as a favorite spectacle of the people, should be studied by
+every student of morals. You, as a preacher----"
+
+Leonard laughed. "I'm not a preacher; I'm an instructor in a college of
+divinity."
+
+"_Eh bien!_ The greater reason. How shall one teach the good, knowing
+not the evil? _Du reste_, are they evil, _ces belles jambes_ of Coralie?
+They are fine creations, of pure nature; there is no padding."
+
+"You will be my guest, if we go?"
+
+"Since you insist; also to a _petit souper, a parti carre_, with Aimee
+and Louise. Coralie! _Sapristi_, no! Her maw is insatiable; the little
+ones are easily pleased."
+
+And so Leonard studied unpadded nature, even going alone a second, and
+perhaps a third time. As to the _petit souper_, it had been decorous;
+and beyond the fact that Mesdemoiselles Aimee and Louise were agreeable
+ladies with excellent appetites, his knowledge of these damsels did not
+extend.
+
+Of course, there were pursuits of a different character to engage his
+attention, and those which occurred under the guidance of the lieutenant
+were exceptional. There were the usual sights to be seen; galleries,
+monuments, churches, all to be wondered at, criticised and admired.
+Leonard approved generally, though, as to the churches, their tawdry
+interiors and the character of their embellishments offended his taste,
+as well as his religious sentiments. If, during these distractions, he
+was neglectful of the religious instruction which he knew his wife
+needed, circumstances were, to some extent, at fault. He could hardly
+expound doctrinal truths in a picture gallery, much less in a temple of
+Roman error. And, though not without qualms, he admitted to himself that
+he had little desire to discuss religion. There was, perhaps, no heinous
+sin in looking at the leg-gyrations of Mademoiselle Coralie, nor was
+Leonard the first wandering clergyman to embrace an offered opportunity
+to study ethics from the standpoint of that rigid moralist, the Marquis
+de Fleury; nevertheless, such studies had their effect in cooling
+religious fervor, and fervor is essential to him who would expound
+truth, with a view to compel conviction.
+
+Finally, as bearing on this question of the doctrinal instruction of his
+wife, he doubted whether it was worth while. Knowledge of doctrine was
+no adornment in women; there was Paula, whose pretensions in this regard
+constituted almost her only defect. Since Natalie was probably saved,
+why trouble himself and her with the exposition of mysteries which she
+would be unable to comprehend, and concerning which the injunction was
+laid that they be "handled with especial care." If she had heard the
+call it would be effectual; if she had not been born to salvation, all
+the doctrine which had been taught since the days of the fathers would
+not--and here his self-communing stopped. Damnation, though inevitable,
+is not an alluring subject of contemplation when it affects one's
+family.
+
+The complications attendant on Natalie's affairs prolonged the stay in
+Paris far beyond the period originally contemplated; but French method
+on one side of the Atlantic, and Mr. Winter on the other, were finally
+satisfied, after much passing to and fro of documents. Everybody
+interested was weary, and consular clerks had come to loathe the names
+of Natalie, Eugenie, Louise, Susan Beverley de Fleury Claghorn-Claghorn,
+_nee_ de Fleury-Claghorn. As Leonard said, to be enabled to give the
+Marquise a receipt in full was a harder job than to negotiate a treaty.
+But it was done at last; Natalie had been resolute and Mr. Winter had
+protested in vain; the Marquise had her discharge and, relieved of many
+terrors, was duly grateful. "She has been charming, truly considerate,"
+she observed to her son. "Alas, Adolphe; it was a great loss."
+
+"There are others," replied the Marquis philosophically.
+
+"Heaven send it so. You must no longer delay speaking seriously to this
+good Leonarr, who might have influenced his wife to be the ogress
+desired by the abominable Winter. Urge him to look out for a _partie_ as
+soon as he arrives in America. I will speak to Natalie. I have heard her
+mention two demoiselles, Achsah and Tabitha."
+
+"_Ciel!_ The appellations."
+
+"But if the bearers are rich?"
+
+"_Tiens!_ mama. Madame Zho and _la belle_ Paula are in London. I might
+try there; it is not so far."
+
+"But _ce gros_ Marc is with them. Paula is for him, as you know."
+
+"He does not hurry himself, and truly I believe the little one would not
+be averse to me."
+
+"Better depend upon Monsieur Leonarr."
+
+And as a result of his mama's advice the lieutenant did, on that
+afternoon, broach the matter to Leonard, who, at first mystified, ended
+by roaring with laughter when he grasped the fact that the head of the
+House of de Fleury was making a provisional proposal for the hand and
+fortune of either Mademoiselle Tabitha, or Mademoiselle Achsah, as
+Leonard might advise.
+
+"_Diable!_" exclaimed the gallant youth, when Leonard had explained the
+cause of his hilarity, "over seventy and rich! What a country where such
+opportunities are neglected! Decidedly I must make the voyage."
+
+Leonard made no reply; the suggested picture of the noble Marquis as
+his guest in Hampton was not precisely alluring.
+
+"And so there is not a single demoiselle among the Claghorns that
+desires a title?"
+
+"Not one."
+
+"Alas!" sighed the Marquis. "I was too magnanimous. You know _la belle_
+Paula, of course. Listen, _mon ami_, but let your lips be sealed. _Elle
+etait folle de moi!_"
+
+"Paula! Crazy for you! You flatter----"
+
+"_Parole d'honneur._ It was in her eyes, in the plaintive cadence of her
+tones----"
+
+"But----"
+
+"I know--_ce polisson de Marc, toujours Marc_. Ah, the luck of this
+Marc! He has a mine of gold; he will have the charming Paula. Only you,
+_mon bon_, have beaten him. After all, it is for Marc and me to mingle
+our tears."
+
+"What do you mean by that?" asked Leonard sharply. "Why are you and Mark
+to mingle your tears?"
+
+"For the reason, _mon cher_, that we love to weep," replied the hussar,
+with an odd glance at Leonard. "Adieu, I have an appointment," and he
+turned abruptly down a side street, leaving Leonard astonished at his
+quick retreat.
+
+"Pshaw!" he exclaimed, after a moment. "It's absurd!" Then he pursued
+his way homeward.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+TO HIM I WILL BE HENCEFORTH TRUE IN ALL THINGS.
+
+
+Mrs. Joe and her train were in London, whither Mark had been summoned on
+business; and ever since Madame de Fleury had become aware of the fact
+she had urged the party to visit Paris. The Marquise, notwithstanding
+her sex, was not devoid of curiosity, and, aside from other advantages
+which might accrue to her from the presence of the lady of Stormpoint,
+she was anxious that a puzzle which had not a little mystified her be
+elucidated. When Mark had visited her after his chance meeting with
+Adolphe in the cafe, she had divined his feeling with regard to Natalie,
+and had at once jumped to the conclusion that it explained the flight of
+her ward. She recalled the intimacy which had existed between the
+cousins during the lifetime of the philosopher, an intimacy which she
+had gravely disapproved, and concerning which she had more than once
+remonstrated. She remembered, too, with vexation and a sense of injury,
+that the philosopher had soothed her solicitude for the interests of her
+son, by pleading the cousinly customs of Mark's country, as well as by
+pointing out the benefit which might accrue to her son by an increased
+dowry for his own daughter. Now all these hopes and rosy possibilities
+were extinguished; Natalie had appeared on the scene with a husband who
+was not Mark, and Mark and Paula were still unwed. These were all
+puzzling facts out of which there might be gathered some advantage for
+Adolphe. She had concealed from him the hopes which sometimes rose
+within her in contemplating the present state of affairs; but she was
+very anxious to know what that state portended. She had tried in vain to
+extract information from Natalie, and as to Leonard, the matter required
+delicate handling. Such inquiries as she had addressed to him had been
+of necessity vague, and from his answers she had derived no
+satisfaction. He had sometimes idly wondered what the lady was after,
+but until the allusion by the Marquis to a mutual mingling of tears by
+Mark and himself, Leonard had barely given the matter a thought. He
+understood now what the Marquis had implied, and saw the drift of the
+maternal questioning. He was annoyed, but only for a moment; he
+dismissed the subject as being of equal importance with the hussar's
+idea of Paula's infatuation for himself, concerning which he had no
+belief whatever.
+
+After the lieutenant had left him, Leonard pursued his way homeward,
+vaguely oppressed by a sense of gloom which he attributed to the
+weather, which had become lowering. He was near the Church of St. Roch
+when a shower drove him inside its portals for shelter.
+
+A few sightseers were wandering about the edifice; an occasional
+penitent occupied a chapel with lips close to the grating, on the other
+side of which was the ear of the absolver; in the body of the church a
+number knelt in prayer.
+
+He looked at these things with curiosity, not unmingled with scorn. His
+attention was attracted by a plainly dressed woman standing in a side
+aisle; to his surprise, he recognized his wife.
+
+She did not see him as he softly approached her. A sunbeam breaking
+through the clouds outside shone through a window and lit up her face,
+displaying to him a new expression, a look of yearning and of love which
+beautified it; a look he had never seen before; he recognized the fact
+with a vague sense of pain.
+
+That which he saw, like that which he felt, was but momentary. She
+turned, looking at him at first with an abstracted gaze, then startled,
+as though waking from a dream. "Leonard!" she exclaimed in a low voice.
+It sounded like fear.
+
+"Even so, my dear. Why are you here alone?"
+
+"I--I--don't know. I was tired."
+
+"Has this spectacle moved you so?" He pointed to the worshippers.
+
+"No, not that. I wish I were as good as they; I have watched them
+often."
+
+"Often?" he repeated. He was somewhat indignant at that wish, that she,
+his wife, were as good as these idolaters; but it was plain that she was
+deeply moved by something, and he was very tender. "Do you come here
+often?"
+
+"I have done so, Leonard." There was humility in her tone, there was
+confession; had he known it, there was a cry for aid.
+
+"Natalie," he said, with some reproach for her, and feeling not a little
+for himself, "I hope you are not attracted by the glitter of Romanism.
+Surely you can pray in your closet!"
+
+"I do not pray in the churches," she said. "I did not know that my
+visits to them would annoy you."
+
+"Not at all, my dear," he replied. "I can understand that you like to
+enjoy the architectural beauties and the solemn influence. But upon me
+the crucifixes, the holy water, the vestments--in short, the
+frippery--these things have a less agreeable effect. They savor of gross
+superstition."
+
+It was true that she did not pray in the churches. Something restrained
+her; perhaps the very memories which had invited her to these wanderings
+in dim shadows where so many vain aspirations had been breathed.
+Sometimes as she would pass a chapel where knelt a penitent, confessing
+to a hidden priest, a strong desire would come upon her to do as the
+penitent was doing. Yet why? Even to herself she had not yet admitted
+that she had aught to confess.
+
+They strolled slowly toward their hotel, Leonard silently reproaching
+himself that he had not sooner discovered and prevented this habit of
+haunting churches, a habit which might lead to lamentable results in one
+easily influenced by the external pomp and circumstance of Romanism.
+
+However, any danger that might exist would soon be passed. Before long
+they would be far beyond the subtle influences of priesthood, as well as
+other subtle influences which he felt were not altogether healthful. He
+sighed, a little regretfully; after all, pleasure was sweet.
+
+There had been some question whether they should await the possible
+arrival of Mrs. Joe. The discussion of this subject had been confined to
+himself and the Marquise, Natalie having displayed but a faint interest
+in the matter. Only that morning Madame de Fleury had informed him that
+the lady of Stormpoint had written to say that she and her party would
+come to Paris for a short stay and then accompany the Leonard Claghorns
+homeward. He was therefore surprised when Natalie suddenly exclaimed,
+"Leonard, let us go home!"
+
+"Do you mean we should not wait for Mrs. Joe?" he asked.
+
+"Why should we? She has Paula and the maids."
+
+"And Mark. He counts for something," suggested Leonard, laughing.
+
+"Of course; and if we wait for them, the waiting will never end. The
+Marquise will do all she can to keep them, and Paris is not so easily
+left. I foresee more difficulty in getting away gracefully, should they
+arrive while we are here, than if we go at once."
+
+"We can pass through London and explain," he suggested.
+
+"Let us go by Havre. I long to get away, and you ought to be home. I
+will write to Mrs. Joe. Let us decide now."
+
+She was strangely insistent, even agitated. He noticed it and assumed
+that she was depressed at the thought of leaving that which was her own
+country, and longed to get a painful separation over. To him it was a
+matter of indifference by what route they traveled, so long as Mrs.
+Joe's susceptibilities were not wounded; and Natalie, assuring him that
+her written explanation would prevent that misfortune, the matter was
+settled.
+
+He kissed her as they entered their apartment; for a moment she held her
+face close to his.
+
+That night, being alone and prostrate upon the floor of her room, where
+she had sunk, humiliated and ashamed, she uttered a vow to heaven:
+
+"To him I will be henceforth true in all things; in thought as in deed.
+Help me, heaven, to atone, by surrendering to him and in his service
+every act and every thought."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+MRS. JOE ON CLERICAL BUMPTIOUSNESS AND MRS. FENTON'S SHOULDERS.
+
+
+The family of Stormpoint remained abroad until long after Leonard and
+his wife were established in the old Morley mansion in Hampton, finally
+returning to America without Mark, who remained in England, ostensibly
+on business connected with the Great Serpent. He had done nothing to
+advance his mother's wishes with regard to Paula, assuming that the lady
+had by this time recognized the futility of her hopes, and like the wise
+woman he knew her to be, had become reconciled to the inevitable. She
+was even wiser than he knew, and a part of her wisdom was to trust to
+the future. She would admit defeat when she found herself defeated,
+meanwhile acquiescing to all seeming in things as they were, placidly
+listening to Paula's confidences as to that celibate sisterhood which
+the damsel hoped some day to found, but which, as Mrs. Joe said to
+herself, was not founded yet.
+
+Mark had extracted a promise both from his mother and from Paula that
+their letters should contain "all the news of all the Claghorns,"
+meaning perhaps Mrs. Leonard Claghorn; and when the first letter came
+from his mother he opened it eagerly and read: first a great deal of
+political advice (at second hand from Mr. Hacket), and toward the end of
+the epistle, matter of greater interest.
+
+"As to Leonard" (wrote the lady), "I fear marriage has not improved him.
+Natalie makes the mistake of coddling him too much. Her notion of wifely
+duty is extravagant. In their house a thousand things are done for
+Leonard's comfort, all thought of by his wife, and her eyes follow him
+about as though she were constantly on the watch to anticipate his
+wants. She is very quiet in manner and seems rather to wish to echo
+Leonard's opinions than to have opinions of her own; all of which has
+other than a pleasing effect on Leonard. I suppose, too, that he has
+arrived at an age (somewhat late in his case) in which the fact of his
+own manliness is the most important fact of existence. He has not been
+improved by contact with quite another world than that of Hampton, the
+world of Adolphe de Fleury, in which he seems to have mingled rather
+surprisingly. One would hardly recommend the allurements of Paris in
+such companionship to a young theologian. You know the angels in
+Paradise fell, though I do not mean to imply that Paris is paradise, or
+Leonard an angel, fallen or otherwise; but his engaging innocence is
+gone; perhaps it was inevitable. I am sorry to see in its place an undue
+amount of the bumptiousness often affected by members of his profession.
+It is quite distressing to think that he should degenerate, he who was
+so beautiful to look at, so gentle, yet so strong--in short, so
+naturally refined--a word, by the way, which I dislike, but it expresses
+the idea. He is not so refined as he was; he is less pleasing to the
+eye, there is a shadow of something in his face which I do not like--and
+I do _not_ like the way with which he looks at Paula.
+
+"There, Mark, I have been long in coming to it--but you are not to
+misunderstand me. I don't believe Leonard has a thought which could be
+regarded as injurious to Natalie, but I don't think he regards feminine
+beauty with the eyes one likes to see. I gave a little dinner a few
+evenings since; only the Stanleys, the Fentons, Father Cameril and the
+Leonard Claghorns. You remember Mrs. Fenton's style; her shoulders (very
+beautiful they are--I say shoulders) too much in evidence for my taste.
+Leonard hardly took his eyes off of them. Father Cameril, on the
+contrary, hardly knew what to do with his to avoid seeing them, and I
+don't know which of the pair made me most angry. I remember when Leonard
+would have been oblivious of shoulders.
+
+"He is rather truculent, too, is Mr. Leonard, and fell foul of poor
+Father Cameril in a manner which roused even Paula, on the subject of
+the Apostolic Succession--in short, I never saw him at such a
+disadvantage, and I'm afraid my indignation has carried my pen away.
+
+"Natalie is lovely. A little sad at times. She confided to me a secret
+which no doubt accounts for her rather noticeable pensiveness. There
+will be a baby in the old Morley house before the year is out."
+
+Mark pondered over his mother's letter often, and with more misgiving
+than behooved a man interested in his neighbor only in ordinary
+neighborly fashion. He did full justice to his mother's shrewd
+observation, and believed that her letter was intended to convey more
+than appeared on the surface, and his self-communings in reference
+thereto were not cheerful.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+INTRODUCES DR. STANLEY, SATAN AND THE PRAYER MEETING OF MATRONS.
+
+
+Mrs. Leonard Claghorn had been graciously received by the matrons of
+Hampton. She was so interesting (they said), so foreign; and careful
+cross-examination of those who had penetrated into the inner sanctuaries
+of the Morley mansion had established the fact that there was not a
+crucifix in the house. On the whole, the matrons were content. Surely,
+the wife of a young professor, so thoroughly grounded in the faith as
+was Leonard--though his prominence in the Seminary, in view of his
+youth, might be deprecated by some--such a one could not remain
+heretical, even if her religious education had been defective. How
+awfully defective these excellent ladies did not know.
+
+On her part, Natalie had been no less gracious. "She'll be one of them
+in a year," said Mrs. Joe, alluding to the matrons. "She'll be whatever
+Leonard says."
+
+"I wish Father Cameril could talk with her," sighed Paula.
+
+"He lost his chance when he contradicted Leonard at my dinner."
+
+"She certainly is very loyal to her husband," admitted Paula.
+
+"Altogether too subservient," observed Mrs. Joe testily. "No woman
+should permit her whole nature to be absorbed in that manner. No wonder
+he's bumptious."
+
+"Bumptious!"
+
+"Conceited. Pliancy, Paula, is a virtue in a wife. I was pliant myself;
+still the most devoted of wives ought to have an opinion of her own."
+
+"Natalie is so sweet," urged the extenuating Paula.
+
+"Sweet! So are you; so was I; so was Tabitha Cone to the man that gave
+her that monstrous watch--but sweetness may be sickening."
+
+"Oh, Cousin Alice!"
+
+"It irritates me, because it's not Natalie's true character. She had a
+mind of her own once, and a good one. Actually, she's superior to
+Leonard----"
+
+"He's a very brilliant man, Cousin."
+
+"To look at, and glib; but inferior to his wife. Men generally are. Yet
+she effaces herself. She overdoes her loyalty. She is playing a part!"
+
+"Cousin Alice!" remonstrated Paula.
+
+"I don't mean she's consciously a hypocrite, and you needn't flare.
+She's imbibed some absurd notions of wifely duty, and is trying to carry
+them out."
+
+An impression made upon an observer as keen as Mrs. Joe must have a
+foundation. In her irritation the lady had expressed the truth. Natalie
+was playing a part.
+
+Since the day in St. Roch when she, recalling a day long past, had lost
+herself in a dream of what might have been--since then she had been
+playing a part, the part of a penitent; the role she had assumed when
+later, in humiliation and conscience-stricken, she had prostrated
+herself before heaven, vowing the only atonement possible.
+
+She had seen the beginning of that change in Leonard which remained a
+cause of irritation to Mrs. Joe; nor had she been ignorant of the
+influences to which it was in part to be ascribed; but her conscience
+had whispered that in very truth the effect of those influences was to
+be attributed to herself. In her marriage an essential element had been
+absent, and was wanting still. To complete that holy mystery and adorn
+it with its rarer graces, to tinge its atmosphere with consecrated
+incense, there must be spiritual union. If Leonard had not learned of
+nobler joys than the lesser gratification that engaged his thoughts, was
+it not because such joys had not been offered?
+
+To those religious teachings which had been deferred she now looked
+forward as to the means whereby both could attain to that higher union
+which she craved, and which when attained would surely soothe her
+troubled spirit and aid in that atonement prescribed by her conscience
+and which she had vowed, and of which the subservience disapproved by
+Mrs. Joe was a minor manifestation. So, though timidly, for his
+reluctance (so strange to her) was apparent, she sought to bring Leonard
+to discussion of religious subjects.
+
+"Was Jonathan Edwards a great man?" she asked one day, and then
+regretted her question, for at that passage of arms which had occurred
+at Mrs. Joe's table, Father Cameril had mentioned the name, a fact
+forgotten until it was recalled to her memory by the lowering brow of
+Leonard.
+
+"A great man, indeed!" he answered; "an apostle of truth. Chattering
+imbeciles like Father Cameril may tell you differently."
+
+"I was not thinking of Father Cameril. I read the title of your article,
+'Jonathan Edwards, a Man Athirst for God.'"
+
+"So he was; and one who slaked his thirst at the well of knowledge. A
+great and good man, Natalie, though shallow reasoners are glad to deny
+the merit of the greatest of metaphysicians. The truth is they're afraid
+of him."
+
+"Why afraid?"
+
+"Because his logic is inexorable, the unassailable truth he utters not
+lovely to all hearers. Edwards declines to abate one jot or tittle of
+God's message. It has become the fashion even among men of greater
+intellect than Mr. Cameril has been endowed with to avoid Edwards,
+but----"
+
+"I should think all would crave the truth. I would like to read him."
+
+"Not now," he said, kissing her. "Dr. Stanley advises steering clear of
+Edwards," he continued, laughing, "though not for the usual reasons. You
+must follow the fashion for awhile, Natalie."
+
+He knew that public opinion would expect, and in time demand, his wife's
+union with the church. Had she been trained from childhood in orthodox
+tenets her preparedness for the sacrament would have been presumed, and,
+at some convenient season, when souls are garnered as crops are
+garnered, it being assumed that they ripen like the fruits of the
+earth, she would have been duly gathered to the fold with those other
+members of the congregation whose time for experiencing religion had
+come. But there was no presumption of early instruction in Natalie's
+case.
+
+He would have been better pleased if his position had not required
+deference to that opinion which would demand Natalie's entrance into the
+doctrinal fold. If she were chosen for salvation, what difference could
+it make whether she was instructed as to the Confession or not? Where
+were the women that were so instructed? Nowhere. They had some phrases
+and some faint recollection of Sabbath-school lessons, but as to any
+real knowledge of the mysteries they professed, he knew that the laymen
+of his denomination were in general as ignorant as those puppets of the
+Romish priesthood who left such matters to their betters. And secretly
+he regarded this as the correct system. He was not sorry that he had a
+valid excuse for avoiding domestic theological discussion in the dictum
+of Dr. Stanley.
+
+The doctor, who had been present on the occasion when Leonard had fallen
+foul of Father Cameril, and who had been amused at the husband's
+truculence, had also noted the anxious look of the wife. He had known
+Leonard almost since boyhood and liked him; he was, for reasons of his
+own, especially interested in Leonard's wife.
+
+Doctor Stanley's position in Hampton was not unlike that of Satan in the
+world. He was endured of necessity and his services called in
+requisition, because in certain straits there was no getting along
+without him. "The parsons don't want to go to heaven," he would say,
+"any more than the rest of us, so when they're sick they call me in, and
+when they're well they smile on me; but, if I weren't a doctor, Hampton
+would be too hot to hold me." All of which, if true, was because Dr.
+Stanley was troubled with a theological itch of his own, and, though
+calling God the "Unknowable," claimed knowledge with as much confidence
+as his orthodox rivals, and with equal truculence. He was at some
+disadvantage in his public onslaughts on Hamptonian strongholds, since
+his followers were few; but at occasional lectures, the meagre proceeds
+whereof went to sustain a Mechanics' Library, founded by the doctor for
+the behoof of philosophical plumbers and carpenters, he sometimes
+charged upon the foe with great gallantry, if but little effect. In his
+private capacity he was genial, amiable and good-hearted, and, if hated
+as an infidel, was loved as a man. As a physician, the general faith in
+his skill was nearly unbounded.
+
+His wife, who laughed at him and loved him, was that Lettie Stanley of
+whose ultimate salvation Miss Claghorn had grave doubt. She was, if
+unhappily "passed by," still of the elect race, and Miss Achsah, on the
+occasion of her union with the doctor, had expressed the opinion that
+the Reverend Josias Claghorn, father of the unfortunate, had celebrated
+the nuptials by turning in his grave. It was not known that she was,
+like her husband, an absolute unbeliever, since she sometimes appeared
+at public worship, and there were among the ladies of Hampton one or two
+who maintained that she was a pious woman. However, it was certain that
+she was heterodox, a grievous circumstance which gave great and just
+cause of offense to these descendants of the original seekers after
+liberty of conscience. She was active in charitable work, and though
+admitted to the Shakespeare Society, was not a member of any of the
+distinctly denominational organizations. She had been invited to the
+"Thursday Prayer Meeting of Matrons," and had declined, flippantly, the
+matrons proclaimed, and on the ground that though she was willing to be
+prayed for, she did not wish to be prayed at. For the rest, she was a
+handsome woman of middle age, with large, tender eyes and a cheery
+disposition, tinged with a certain melancholy, which some called
+cynicism.
+
+This lady had also noted with disapproval Leonard's manner on the
+occasion of Mrs. Joe's dinner. "He's getting spoiled," she had observed
+to her husband, as they left the hospitable mansion.
+
+"Theological manner," replied the doctor. "They can't help it. Cameril
+would have been as bad, if he dared. What do you think of Leonard's
+wife?"
+
+"A beautiful woman, who adores her husband. I wonder why her eyes are
+sad?"
+
+"Her eyes are like yours."
+
+"Pshaw, Doctor; I'm an old woman----"
+
+"That's nonsense. She not only resembles you as to eyes, but in
+disposition."
+
+"Of course you know all about her disposition."
+
+"It's my business to know. Mrs. Leonard's my patient, and her
+idiosyncrasies----"
+
+"Are doubtless interesting, as pertaining to a handsome woman; but how
+do they resemble mine?"
+
+"She's a religious enthusiast."
+
+"Well!" ejaculated the lady; "after years of observation that is your
+wise conclusion. I won't say tell that to the marines, which would be
+undignified, but tell it to the Hampton matrons."
+
+"The matrons of Hampton know nothing of religion; they're theologians."
+
+The lady laughed. "If she is really like I was at her age, I am sorry
+for her. Had I married a man like Leonard----"
+
+"My dear, with your excellent taste you did much better; but I thought
+Leonard was a favorite of yours."
+
+"I like him, but I detest his creed."
+
+"You don't suppose he believes it?"
+
+"He says he does, which is of more consequence."
+
+"How can any human being believe the Westminster Confession?"
+
+"I don't suppose any human being does. It's a question of obstinacy,
+pride; a question of being caught in a trap."
+
+The doctor laughed.
+
+"You, my dear," continued the lady, "lack religious sentiment. You don't
+care. _I_ cannot help being indignant when I see religion desecrated by
+religionists. It may be from the same feeling that I am sorry for a
+woman who adores her husband, and who must eventually find him out."
+
+"Find him out! My dear----"
+
+"I mean find out that he's not all that she has pictured. Leonard is a
+very ordinary mortal."
+
+"But, on the whole, a very good fellow."
+
+"Undoubtedly, but--a theologian of Hampton. I don't think you
+appreciate all that that may chance to mean to a woman you are pleased
+to call a religious enthusiast--meaning, I suppose, a woman who really
+craves religion."
+
+"You must not take a word too seriously. The fact is that Mrs. Leonard
+has what may be termed an exalted temperament. One day I found her in
+tears and with traces of great agitation. She had been reading a book of
+ecstatic character. I hinted to Leonard that just now that sort of thing
+wouldn't do----"
+
+"You were quite right. I remember that I suffered----"
+
+"I don't mean to say that the lady had been suffering; on the contrary,
+I think she'd been having a good time. The book, by the way, was the
+life of some Roman saint--but good times of that sort are not to be
+indulged in by a lady about to have a baby."
+
+"What did Leonard say?"
+
+"Oh, he was amenable--more so than I expected. Of course, I said nothing
+about the Catholic book. Leonard is like prospective fathers, easily
+scared. They are much more tractable than prospective mothers; so I
+scared him."
+
+The more easily that Leonard had been willing to be scared.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+THE MUSIC OF THE CHORUS OF THE ANGUISH OF THE DAMNED.
+
+
+"Socrates," observed Miss Achsah, "is damned."
+
+"If _you_ say so, he must be," was the sarcastic rejoinder of Tabitha
+Cone.
+
+Miss Claghorn, with a stern gaze at her companion, opened Hodge's
+Commentary on The Confession of Faith and read: "'The heathen in mass,
+with no single, definite and unquestioned example on record, are
+evidently strangers to God and going down to death in an unsaved
+condition.' That," she said, "settles Socrates."
+
+It did not settle Tabitha, whose question touched the weak spot in
+Hodge's assertion. "Where'd he see the record?" she asked.
+
+"Tabitha," remonstrated Miss Achsah with evident sincerity, "sometimes I
+doubt your election. The audacity of setting up _your_ opinion----"
+
+Tabitha was human and venerated print. She was a little frightened at
+her own temerity, and Miss Claghorn's seriousness did not tend to
+reassure her. "There's Brigston," she said weakly.
+
+"Yes; and there's 'Greenland's Icy Mountains,' and 'India's Coral
+Strand,'" answered the lady pertinently, and closing the book and the
+discussion.
+
+But, if closed at the White House, it raged furiously in the theological
+world. Until recently the permanent abode of Socrates had been as well
+known as that of Satan. No decree, whether of Roman or Protestant Pope,
+had been needed to establish a fact settled to the satisfaction of all
+(except, perhaps, to that of the Athenian sage) by the Eternal Decree of
+Omnipotence. It was reserved for a deluded doctor of the rival Seminary
+of Brigston to promulgate doubts of a self-evident truth. Such an
+affront to Westminster and the immutable justice of God was not to be
+borne in silence by Hampton.
+
+A storm of unexampled fury burst from theological clouds, and Leonard,
+sniffing the odor of battle, joyously saw that his day had dawned. Into
+the fray he plunged, a gallant knight armed with the sword of orthodoxy,
+battling in the name of God and by the lurid light of hell, in order
+that the music of the chorus of the anguish of the damned might still
+arise, a dulcet melody, to heaven.
+
+And while the din of the holy war filled the air, Natalie welcomed a
+little babe, the light of whose clear blue eyes melted her soul in
+tenderness. To look into their celestial purity was to see heaven's
+glory reflected in the azure depths. The deeper springs of tenderness,
+closed to the rude touch of Leonard's passion, were opened, and love
+undefiled gushed forth in a stream of unspeakable gladness. Her health
+remained delicate, and she was long confined to the house, but, aside
+from a pleasant languor, being physically at ease, she found in the care
+of the infant sufficient occupation. She was glad that she could be much
+alone with the boy, and held many and sweet communings with that soul
+she had discovered in his eyes. She never wearied of reading the mystery
+of those clear depths and, always connecting the child with heaven, in
+her simple belief, imagining the newcomer as lately from that blissful
+region, she built upon her fancies a system of theology which would have
+startled and confounded the Hampton Matrons. And, as before, in sight of
+the grandeur of God upon the waters, Leonard's lower self had been
+humbled, so now, the beauty of a pure soul, all its glory set forth in
+motherhood, chastened his earthly nature, and he bowed with the
+reverence of simple souls to saints.
+
+Leonard's creed was, as is the case with creeds, a matter apart from his
+life; wherefore there was nothing strange in the fact that he could
+leave the presence of the two pure creatures, and retiring to his study,
+damn countless souls to hell in essays of exceeding force and
+brilliancy. Young as he was, all Hampton gloried in these labors whereby
+Brigston was smitten and abashed. There were champions more learned,
+being older; but, being older, their pens were encumbered with caution
+and hampered by the knowledge that pitfalls and traps lurk in the dark
+thickets of theological controversy. But Leonard had the daring of
+youth. Logic was logic, and truth not for a day, but eternal. Truth led
+to the Westminster Confession, which damns the great majority, Socrates
+included. To quibble with the plain meaning of plain words would be to
+follow the heretical Brigstonian, to deny the inspiration of Scripture,
+to be a traitor to his party and his creed. If the same decree which
+damned Socrates consigned the great majority of his own friends and
+acquaintances to the same everlasting misery, it couldn't be helped.
+And, in fact, there was no reason why Leonard should shrink from that
+which thousands of men and women profess to believe, yet marry and bring
+forth children doomed, the while eating dinner in content.
+
+Echoes of the merry war reached Natalie, but her curiosity was but
+faintly stirred. She saw that Leonard avoided the topic when alone with
+her, and was now content to learn nothing from her husband; seeing in
+her child her best teacher in heavenly lore. Her exhibition of maternal
+love extorted some disapproving comment; Mrs. Joe called it "uncanny,"
+Tabitha said she was a queer mother, Miss Claghorn disapprovingly
+likened her adoration to Romanism--"Idolatry," she said to Tabitha.
+
+"Yet," replied Tabitha, "she hardly ever hugs or kisses him. She just
+looks at him, and if you catch her at it she passes it off."
+
+"Just as you or I might if the cook were to come in while we were saying
+our prayers."
+
+"Something 'ill happen to the child," said Tabitha ominously.
+
+Miss Claghorn did not dispute it; the two were so perfectly in accord as
+to their sentiment in this matter that there was no chance for dispute.
+
+Thus, in a strange, secret relation, mother and child lived more than a
+year together, and then Tabitha Cone's oracular prophecy was fulfilled.
+Something happened to the child, which something was death; and Natalie
+was stricken as by a thunderbolt.
+
+The most alarming phase of her illness was of short duration; she had
+been long unconscious, and during that period they who watched her had
+noticed, with something akin to awe, the heavenly peacefulness and sweet
+smile of her face. From her mutterings they gathered that she roamed in
+celestial regions with her boy. Dr. Stanley was evidently not favorably
+impressed with these supposed visions, and as soon as it was feasible
+ordered her removal to Stormpoint, where the sun shone brighter than in
+the old house, and where there would be fewer reminders of her loss.
+
+Leonard, who had been severely stricken by the death of the child and
+worn with anxiety on his wife's account, acquiesced. The complete change
+of scene which the physician desired involved his absence from her side.
+"Of course you'll visit her daily, if you choose," said the doctor, "but
+if you are constantly together she will inevitably talk of the child and
+of heaven, and we must keep her away from heaven." Natalie remonstrated,
+but rather feebly. Since the birth of the child Mrs. Joe had seen less
+cause to complain of undue absorption in the husband by the wife. Thus,
+to keep Natalie from contemplation of heaven, Leonard returned to
+contemplation of hell; for the war still raged, though with some
+slackness. Leonard girded up his loins and prepared to inject the spirit
+which had somewhat diminished during his own absence from the lines of
+battle.
+
+The mistress of Stormpoint watched her new inmate keenly. "It's natural
+that she should love her child, even though he's dead," she said to
+Paula, "but she talks with him. I heard her."
+
+"Her faith is perfect," exclaimed Paula with solemn enthusiasm. "She
+knows he lives forever."
+
+"That's all very well; but he don't live at Stormpoint."
+
+"She feels his presence, though she cannot see him."
+
+"She says she does. Of course, it's fiddlesticks; but the doctor ought
+to know."
+
+And the doctor, being informed, agreed with Mrs. Joe that conversation
+with angels was not to be encouraged. "A very little roast beef and a
+great deal of fresh air," was his prescription, "A trip somewhere when
+she is stronger. Meanwhile, keep bores away--Father Cameril and
+Leonard."
+
+"I can't lock Leonard out."
+
+"I wish you could; he has a grievance and may be tempted to unburden his
+soul to his wife."
+
+"I have heard of no grievance."
+
+"You will; the reaction has come. Yesterday they crowned him with
+laurels; to-day they are damning him--of course, in parliamentary
+phrase--from the president of the Seminary down to the janitor."
+
+"Impossible! Why, Doctor, only a few days since Dr. Burley spoke of him
+in the highest terms."
+
+"A few days since! Ask him now. Leonard has played the frog to Burley's
+ox. It was right to confute Brigston with Greek texts; they produced a
+good deal of fog and little illumination. But Leonard must shove himself
+in as interpreter between the heavyweights and the populace. Of course
+his action was abhorrent; it is to me. There ought to be an _esprit de
+corps_ in all professions. I shouldn't approve if some young medical
+spark were to give away _our_ secrets."
+
+The physician, if flippantly, spoke the truth. Leonard had been rash, as
+youth is wont to be. Wise and venerable heads had from the beginning
+wagged in disapproval of his excess of zeal. To bury the Brigstonian
+deep beneath the fragments of his own exploded logic was well, but it
+was also well to be wary, to lay no hasty hand upon and drag forth
+mysteries which could not bear the light of day. Leonard was brilliant;
+but brilliancy was not caution. Theological argumentation, to be
+convincing, must be obscure; mystification, rather than conviction, is
+the prop of faith.
+
+"I'm sorry he's in trouble," observed the lady.
+
+The doctor shrugged his shoulders. "Inevitable!" he exclaimed. "He's
+obstinate and conceited. His last pamphlet, 'Dr. Burley's True Meaning,'
+is monstrous. What right had he to give Burley away in that manner? If
+Burley had wanted to state his meaning, wouldn't he have done it?
+Leonard swallows the whole Westminster Confession at a gulp, and points
+out that Hampton and Burley do the same thing. What maladroit
+presumption! He ought to know that Hampton only bolts the morsel
+because it must. Its contortions during the process of deglutition ought
+to be charitably concealed. Who is Leonard that he should tear away the
+veil which hides a harrowing spectacle?"
+
+Which burst of eloquence was not wholly intelligible to the lady, who,
+however, saw the need of dragging the doctor down from his hobby. "Well,
+he must not discuss these matters with his wife," she said, "if you
+disapprove."
+
+"No. For ladies in the condition of our patient the Westminster
+Confession is too lurid. Needless to say to a matron of your experience
+that in the case of a bereaved young mother the brain should not be
+excited, the affections over-stimulated, the fancy be allowed to rove at
+will, either amid the joys of heaven or the horrors of hell."
+
+Wherefore Paula was instructed to avoid conversation concerning themes
+celestial or infernal, and was thus deprived of a pleasure; for there
+had been much loving talk between her and Natalie concerning the child,
+now abiding in heavenly regions. Perhaps Natalie sorrowed a little,
+noting that Paula no longer lingered over the favorite topic; if so, she
+made no comment; her thoughts were her own.
+
+"What is true marriage?" she asked one day.
+
+"I--I don't know," replied Paula, taken unawares, and not sure whether
+this new topic were celestial or infernal. "Celibacy, as the ideal
+state----"
+
+"A wife vows obedience," interrupted Natalie--she had heard Paula before
+on celibacy--"that's a small matter. Who wouldn't be obedient?"
+
+"But, suppose a husband were to require something wrong," suggested
+Paula, disturbed by the fleeting vision of a wife of St. Perpetua
+deprived of fish on Fridays by a wicked spouse.
+
+"He wouldn't be a true husband. My ideal of marriage is unity in all
+things--tastes, hopes, beliefs----"
+
+"Belief, of course. And to the realization of that ideal a churchwoman
+would lead her husband."
+
+"Or, if the husband were the better Christian, he would lead his wife."
+
+After due consideration, Paula repeated the monosyllable "if?"
+
+"And, if he showed no disposition to lead his wife, which might be the
+case for some good reason, she ought to try and attain his standpoint.
+Then she would evince that perfect sympathy which all the while the
+husband may be longing for."
+
+"I--I suppose so," replied Paula, always dreading an approach toward
+forbidden ground.
+
+"If a wife had wronged her husband, even without intention," Natalie
+went on, after a considerable pause, "that fact would stand in the way
+of complete sympathy."
+
+"There could be no wrong without intention--that is, no fault."
+
+"But still a wrong; one that the doer might find it harder to forgive
+than the sufferer. If you were my wife. Paula----"
+
+"Say husband," said Paula, laughing, "and since you find obedience so
+easy, I order you to prepare to let me drive you to the White House in
+the pony-phaeton."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+CURSING AND BEATING HER BREAST, SHE FELL UPON THE GRAVE.
+
+
+Mrs. Joe sought, and very easily obtained, Leonard's confidence in
+regard to the grievance to which Dr. Stanley had alluded. Hampton had
+been only too glad, so he averred, to accept his aid in overcoming
+Brigston; and if that was in the way of accomplishment (and who could
+deny it?) the fact was more attributable to him (Leonard) than to any
+other man. "I simply popularized Dr. Burley's learned, but certainly
+obscurely-written article, giving its author full credit; and now he
+says I misrepresented him, and his complaint is echoed by every toady in
+Hampton. The papers, even the secular papers, are actually making sport
+of me."
+
+"But Dr. Burley can't deny what he wrote."
+
+Even Leonard smiled at her simplicity. "He can deny what I wrote,
+although, in other words, it is exactly what he wrote. And that is
+morally just as bad."
+
+The lady was full of sympathy; the more so as his "bumptiousness" was
+gone. He had been plainly deeply wounded, yet out of consideration for
+his wife, he had borne his grief in silence. In Mrs. Joe's eyes this
+abnegation deserved recognition. There was a way by which he could
+humiliate his enemies, and yet be of so much importance that they would
+not venture to show resentment. She had, as we know, already "worked the
+Seminary" in behoof of her "policy." She could work it a little more,
+and help both Leonard and herself. Her donations to the library had not
+heretofore been of large amounts, for she shrank from ostentation, but
+she had always intended to be magnificent on some convenient occasion.
+By being so through Leonard, she could avoid display and yet possess its
+advantages, for the Seminary authorities would, of course, know the
+source of a donation from a modestly anonymous lady, coming through the
+hands of Leonard.
+
+So this matter was easily arranged. "And," suggested the lady, "after
+you have given notice of the donation and have heaped coals on Dr.
+Burley's head, go away for awhile. It will do you good, and they can
+think their conduct over."
+
+The idea appealed to Leonard, who saw the situation dramatically; but
+when Mrs. Joe proposed that he accompany herself, Paula and Natalie on a
+visit to Mrs. Leon at Newport, he declined with some perturbation. "I'll
+go to New York," he said. And, on the whole, Mrs. Joe thought this was
+best, though she was surprised.
+
+She was glad when he had departed, believing that his absence would have
+the effect of rousing Natalie from a condition incompatible with the
+life of every day, in that it would result in wholesome longing for her
+husband. And the politic lady soon saw her hope justified. Leonard had
+been gone but a day when Natalie announced a desire to return to her own
+house; not to remain, but to order some domestic arrangements, more
+especially with the view of making Leonard's study more attractive than
+it had been, even in those days of "coddling" which Mrs. Joe had once
+found objectionable, but whose returning symptoms she now hailed with
+approval.
+
+At Natalie's request she was driven past the cemetery, where she
+alighted, and, bidding the coachman wait, she sought her child's grave.
+Some tears came to her eyes as she laid flowers on the still fresh earth
+and stood for many minutes leaning on the headstone. Her thoughts were
+far away. In a room in Paris she saw a woman humbled by a consciousness
+of wrong; and here, at the most sacred spot on earth, she renewed her
+vow of atonement.
+
+She returned slowly to the carriage and was driven to the Morley
+mansion, where she was welcomed with effusion by the maids. From them
+she for the first time learned that her husband had often worked far
+into the night, and while listening to their comments, she reproached
+herself that she had left him alone. The house, with its closed
+shutters, was gloomy even on this bright day; what had it been in the
+long nights?
+
+She instructed the servants to prepare a light luncheon for her at noon
+and leave it on the dining table, paying no further heed to her. She
+intended, she said, to arrange her husband's books.
+
+But first she went upstairs. There beside her bed was the child's crib,
+cheerless without its sheets and embroidery. The empty room, from which
+daylight was nearly excluded chilled her. The rugs were removed and her
+heels clicked sharply on the bare floor, making hollow echoes as she
+walked. She overcame the oppressive sense of desolation and went about
+her tasks.
+
+She put the child's trinkets away; the spoon which had been useless, the
+cup from which he had never drunk, the gold chain given by Mrs. Joe, and
+which, partaking of the nature of the Great Serpent, had been found too
+heavy for agreeable wear; these were laid among her treasures. His
+clothes, except the little gown he had worn when dying, were put aside
+to be sent to poor women, already mothers or about to become such.
+Leonard had once suggested kindly that they were too fine. "The mothers
+won't think so," she had replied.
+
+This work finished, she closed the door of the room and walked down the
+broad, old-fashioned stairway, every foot-fall echoing through the
+ancient house of which she seemed to be the only occupant; and though
+she knew the maids were at their tasks and within reach, the impression
+affected her unpleasantly. She glanced more than once over her shoulder
+as she descended the staircase and walked through the echoing hall.
+
+She entered the library--a large room, dedicated, at least nominally,
+even in the days of Jeremiah Morley, to its present purpose, and later,
+by Cousin Jared and her husband, lined from floor to ceiling with books,
+a cheerful room when lighted, but now, with bare floor and closed
+shutters, a gloomy vault in whose distant corners, where the shadows
+were dark, the spirits of former occupants might lurk and peer at this
+invader. The uncanny impressions that had been with her were deepened by
+the sombre fancies awakened by the aspect of the room, in which the
+confusion attendant on Leonard's labors was everywhere apparent. Books
+were everywhere--on chairs, on tables, on the floor, face downward in
+the shelves.
+
+She took up a small volume. Its evident antiquity attracted her and she
+read the title-page: "Delay Not; or, A Call to the Careless," by the
+Reverend Eliphalet Claghorn. Numerous names on the fly-leaves disclosed
+that the book had been handed down through many Claghorns. The last name
+was her husband's; preceding that his father's, to whom it had been
+given, as testified by the inscription, by "E. Beverley Claghorn." E.
+Beverley Claghorn, she knew, had been her own father. Turning the pages,
+her attention was arrested.
+
+She read for hours. Sunk in a heap on the floor, forgotten by the
+servants, her eyes gloated on the page written by her ancestor. No
+romance had ever enchained her attention as did all this "Call to the
+Careless." If the writer had so charmed the reader of his own
+generation, the dead hand that had composed the pages which held this
+reader spell-bound must have been guided by a brain cunning in the
+author's craft. Whatever was the story, the woman lived in its terrors;
+she cowered and moaned, her eyes stood out, and her face was a face
+distorted by the horror of a soul in fear. But she could not leave the
+story. Enthralled until the last page had been turned, she only then
+looked up, and her eyes, which that morning had been bright with the
+light of hope, born of the resolve to resume her duties as a wife, were
+now dull with the shadow of an awful dread.
+
+She glanced fearfully around and tried to rise, but crouched again upon
+the floor, one hand still clutching book and dust-cloth, the other held
+as though to shield her from a blow. She uttered no word, but a strange,
+hoarse rattle came from her throat, as though she would have prayed, had
+her voice been at her command. At last she rose, half staggering,
+retreating backward toward the door, as though she feared some presence,
+and, not daring to turn, must face it. Thus she passed out of the room
+and from the house.
+
+She walked, at first, with uncertain steps, then more firmly, and with
+ever swifter stride. The by-streets through which she passed were quiet,
+almost deserted; she was hardly noticed, though in one or two observers
+a faint curiosity was aroused by the figure of the well-dressed, hatless
+woman, be-aproned and clasping to her breast a dust-cloth and a book. As
+for her, she noticed nothing as she hastened on.
+
+Without pause, with ever-increasing pace, which had now become a run,
+she entered the gates of the cemetery, threading its alleys, seeing
+nothing with her bodily eyes; for their horror and despair were no
+reflection of the mournful yet peaceful scene in which she passed. She
+came to the grave of her child. Again she crouched as she had done in
+the library of her home; her despairing eyes were turned upward and her
+hands raised in appeal to the serene and pitiless sky.
+
+Words came to her in the language of her childhood. "My God," she cried,
+"Fiend that dwellest beyond the sky, have mercy. Pitiless Father, who
+didst condemn thy Son for sport, whose nostrils love the scent of
+burning men, whose ears find music in their agony, whose eyes gloat upon
+their writhings, take me to thy hell of torment and release my child."
+
+And so, with frantic blasphemy, cursing God and beating her breast, she
+fell forward upon the baby's grave.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+DR. STANLEY DISCOURSES CONCERNING THE DIVERSIONS OF THE SAINTS.
+
+
+At the hour agreed upon, Mrs. Joe left Stormpoint to fetch Natalie. As
+the latter had done in the morning, and in order to inspect the
+newly-erected headstone, she alighted from her carriage at the cemetery
+and passed through various alleys, when, as she approached her
+destination, she suddenly halted.
+
+A woman was stretched upon the grave, who, on hearing the ejaculation of
+Mrs. Joe, partly raised her head, disclosing an earth-bedaubed face, and
+emitting sounds not human, but rather the moans of a tortured animal.
+
+Mrs. Joe ran and seized her shoulder, and at the touch Natalie half
+arose. Her gleaming eyes, her face distorted and soiled with
+earth--these presented an appalling spectacle.
+
+The lady of Stormpoint could hardly have told how the task was
+accomplished, but she succeeded in inducing the frantic woman to enter
+the carriage, and, thus separated from the grave, she became quieter,
+though never ceasing to mutter phrases which caused the listener to
+shudder. Mrs. Joe was a woman of varied experience. She had heard the
+oaths of mining camps when pistols and knives were out and frenzied
+ruffians were athirst for blood; she would have thought no form of
+profanity strange to her ears; yet she had heard no blasphemy equal to
+that uttered by her companion, repeated as a weary child asleep may
+repeat some hard-learned sentence impressed upon a tired brain.
+
+Arrived home, and Natalie in her bed, and withal lying quiet, and the
+carriage dispatched at full speed for Dr. Stanley, there was time to
+consider the next step.
+
+"Send for Father Cameril," urged Paula.
+
+"What is Leonard's address?" asked the lady, ignoring the suggestion.
+
+"Dear," said Paula, caressingly, and taking Natalie's hand, "where is
+Leonard?"
+
+"In hell," was the answer. "I am overjoyed in hearing the howlings of
+hell. My joy is increased as I gaze upon Leonard in the midst of that
+sea of suffering."
+
+"Good Lord deliver us!" ejaculated Mrs. Joe. Paula fell upon her knees.
+"Father in heaven!" she commenced.
+
+Natalie looked at her with languid interest "The sight of hell-torments
+exalts the happiness of the saints," she said.
+
+At this delectable quotation from Jonathan Edwards Mrs. Joe wrung her
+hands; Paula uttered a half scream and burst into tears; in the same
+moment Dr. Stanley was ushered into the room.
+
+"A frightful shock!" was his verdict. "Absolute quiet! No tears; no
+exorcisms," with a warning finger upheld for Paula. "I'll send a nurse
+at once and return soon."
+
+By night he was again in the house, having received bulletins from the
+nurse in the meanwhile. The patient was asleep; had been so for nearly
+three hours. "Excellent!" he said to Mrs. Joe, finding that lady
+awaiting his report in the library. "It's a fine brain, Mrs. Claghorn.
+Let us hope it may prove a strong one. Can you explain further than you
+could this afternoon?"
+
+"The keeper of the cemetery knows nothing. Her maids are here. I sent
+James for them, and have kept them to be questioned by you."
+
+The maids only knew that Mrs. Leonard had visited the house, and had
+spent the day in the library; that one of them, noting that her mistress
+had neglected the luncheon that had been laid out for her, had ventured
+to look into the room. "She was crouched on the floor, reading; I could
+not well see her face. When I spoke she waved her hand, as though I was
+not to interrupt. That was about two o'clock. I went back to the
+kitchen, just putting the tea on the range so's to heat it. Then neither
+Martha nor I thought anything more about her, until about five Martha
+thought she heard the front door slam. We looked in the library; she
+was gone. She hadn't touched the lunch." Such, relieved of some
+circumlocution, was the report of the maid most glib of speech. They
+were dismissed by the doctor.
+
+"She has done," was his comment, "that which creed-adherents usually
+omit. She has read, and as a consequence is crazed."
+
+"Crazed as a consequence of reading!" exclaimed Mrs. Joe.
+
+"Mrs. Leonard has sustained a shock; there must be a cause. No external
+injury is discoverable. The cause is to be found in her moral, or, if
+you please, her spiritual constitution--I don't care what you call
+it--among other things in strong maternal yearnings--subjective causes
+these, and not sufficient to explain the seizure; there must have been
+an agent. The maid found her deeply absorbed; people that read crouched
+on the floor are so; therefore a book----"
+
+"I took this from her," exclaimed the lady, producing the Reverend
+Eliphalet's "Call to the Careless."
+
+"Aha!" exclaimed the doctor, pouncing upon the volume and glancing at
+the title-page, "here we have it; here's enough to convert a lying-in
+hospital into Bedlam."
+
+Mrs. Joe gazed upon the fat little volume in the hand of the speaker,
+with the same expression with which a novice might contemplate an
+overgrown spider impaled upon the card of a collector.
+
+"This unctuous treatise," proceeded the doctor, who, finding his hobby
+saddled, was impatient to mount, "was written by a shining light of that
+family to which you and I have been graciously permitted to ally
+ourselves. In this volume are recorded the ecstatic transports of one of
+the most blessed of the blessed Claghorns. Our patient may have derived
+her tendency to exaltation from this very rhapsodist. Here, with the
+Reverend Eliphalet, we may revel in angelic joys; with him, we may,
+god-like, gloat over sinners damned, and, enraptured, contemplate
+Flames, Torment and Despair; here our ears may be charmed with the Roars
+of Age, the Howls of Youth, the Screams of Childhood and the Wails of
+Infancy; all in linked sweetness long drawn out; all in capital
+letters, and all extorted by the Flames that Lick the Suffering
+Damned!"
+
+"Doctor!" exclaimed the lady, scandalized at that which she supposed was
+a burst of profanity.
+
+"Shocked? Well, shocking it is--in me, who refuse to believe it, but
+edifying in Eliphalet. Ah! madam, the evil that men do lives after them.
+Was truth ever better exemplified? Listen to this: The writer pictures
+himself in heaven and looking down into hell. 'What joy to behold Truth
+vindicated from all the horrid aspersions of hellish monsters!' (that's
+me) 'I am overjoyed at hearing the everlasting Howlings of the Haters of
+the Almighty! Oh! Sweet, sweet. My heart is satisfied!'"
+
+The lady attempted to interrupt, but the doctor continued to read: "The
+saints in glory will see and better understand (than we do) how terrible
+the sufferings of the damned are! When they have this sight it will
+excite them to joyful praises,' that's a choice bit from Jonathan
+Edwards. What do you think of the diversions of 'the saints in glory?'"
+
+"It's blasphemy!"
+
+"Blasphemy! Tell it not in Hampton! But listen to Jonathan again. Here
+is his picture of a sinner just condemned. His parents are witnesses of
+his terror and agony, and thus they righteously gloat: 'When they shall
+see what manifestations of amazement will be in you at the hearing of
+this dreadful sentence; when they shall behold you with a frightened and
+amazed countenance, trembling and astonished, and shall hear you groan
+and gnash your teeth, these things will not move them at all to pity
+you, but you will see them with a holy joy in their countenances and
+with songs in their mouths. When they shall see you turned away and
+beginning to enter into the great furnace, and shall see how you shrink
+at it, and hear how you shriek and cry out, yet they will not be at all
+grieved for you; but at the same time you will hear from them renewed
+praises and hallelujahs for this true and righteous judgment of God in
+so dealing with you!'"
+
+"If," interjected the listener, "that is written there, the devil wrote
+it."
+
+"The devil may have had a hand in the matter, but it was written by no
+less a person than Jonathan Edwards, regarded, and justly, by the
+Reverend Eliphalet and others, as a great man. He is also quoted here as
+saying to his hearers, 'If you perish hereafter, it will be an occasion
+of joy to all the godly'; one is hardly surprised that he didn't get on
+with his congregation. Imagine Father Cameril making that announcement
+with you and Miss Paula in the front pew."
+
+"Doctor, if you are not inventing----"
+
+"I could not. My imagination is not warmed by the flames of hell or by
+celestial visions. This book is filled with similar elegant extracts."
+
+"I have heard enough, Doctor. Really----"
+
+"Permit me one or two more. We have hardly heard the author himself as
+yet."
+
+"But to what end?"
+
+"You were incredulous when I asserted that a day's reading in Leonard's
+library would account for the present condition of his wife. It's only
+fair to allow me to justify my assertion."
+
+"You have read enough to drive _me_ crazy, if for one moment I believed
+it."
+
+"Hardly. _You_ are not a recently bereaved mother; _you_ are not just
+emerging from a condition consequent upon disturbance of the physical
+economy which has reacted upon the mental; _you_ are not inclined to
+mysticism, to see visions, to find pictures in goblets of water or in
+grate fires; in short, while you have your own idiosyncrasies, they are
+not of a character to render you liable to this sort of transport. But
+there are organizations which, though seduced by mystic lore, can hardly
+contemplate such matters without injury. The compiler of this book, the
+men he quotes, the ecstatics in general--revivalists, hermits, nuns and
+monks in all ages--do you believe that as a class they were well
+balanced? Peering into heaven is a dangerous business."
+
+"The men you have quoted seem to have peered into hell."
+
+"That is the Puritan mode of ecstatic enjoyment. Our Catholic--I beg
+your pardon, our Roman Catholic--enthusiasts, being more artistic, and
+lovers of the beautiful, prefer contemplation of heaven. Unlike the
+smug Puritan, they do not spare their bodies. They fast and flog, wear
+hair shirts, roll in ashes and wash seldom, but their eyes are turned
+upward; they urge the spirit to rejoice. Your fat and well-fed Calvinist
+prefers a gloom irradiated by the flames of hell, in which he can behold
+the writhing victims of God's vanity----"
+
+"Doctor, you are as bitter as all your brethren; you unbeliever----"
+
+"I don't know that I'm more of an unbeliever than you are. I'm sure if
+the Reverend Eliphalet has not by this time modified his opinions, he
+has no expectation of meeting you in heaven. Hear him as he warns
+humanity against the devices of Satan: 'Of which,' he says, 'the traces
+are visible even in the church. In these days there hath arisen a
+delusive hope as to infants. Some hold, and a few dare to assert, though
+with bated breath, that all infants die in the grace of God. Who saith
+this? Not God, who, by His Eternal Decree, hath declared that none but
+His Elect are saved. Not our Confession of Faith, formulated at
+Westminster in earnest prayer and reverence for the Word. Not the
+framers of that Confession, of whom I may mention Twisse, as having
+specially wrote against this new-born folly, extorted by the cunning of
+the Enemy of Souls by means of the bleatings of foolish mothers--search
+the Scripture, reader! Nowhere shalt thou find any saved but His
+Elect.'"
+
+"Abominable!" ejaculated the lady.
+
+"Poetical. 'Bleatings of foolish mothers' is quite so. And now our good
+man actually drops into the poetry of the Reverend Michael Wigglesworth,
+whose 'Day of Doom' he quotes at length. I will not inflict the whole
+fifteen stanzas upon you; but listen to a morsel or two. This is the
+Argument: The Still-born appear at the Seat of Mercy, and put in a plea
+for grace that might have weight in Senegambia, but which has none in
+the heaven of Eliphalet and of Hampton:
+
+    'Then to the bar they all drew near who died in Infancy,
+    And never had, or good or bad, effected personally,
+    But from the womb unto the tomb were straightway carried
+    (Or at the least, ere they transgressed), who thus began to plead.'
+
+"Their plea is that since Adam, the actual delinquent, has been 'set
+free, and saved from his trespass,' they are on better grounds entitled
+to consideration. To the finite intelligence there would seem to be some
+force in the infantile argument. What says Omnipotence?
+
+    'I may deny you once to try, or grace to you to tender,
+    Though he finds Grace before my face who was the chief offender.
+    You sinners are, and such a share as sinners may expect,
+    Such you shall have, for I do save none but mine own elect;
+    Yet to compare your sin with their who sinned a longer time,
+    I do confess yours is much less, though every sin's a crime;
+    A crime it is, therefore in bliss you may not hope to dwell,
+    But unto you I shall allow THE EASIEST ROOM IN HELL.'"
+
+The doctor closed the book. "I submit that I have proved my contention,"
+he said. "Do you doubt now that Mrs. Leonard was affected by her
+browsings among Leonard's books? The men who wrote the matter of which
+this volume is made up were largely the founders of Hampton, men whose
+names she has heard venerated as almost inspired of God."
+
+"Even so, how could she believe such absurdities?"
+
+"I do not assert that she believed. Belief in the impossible is
+impossible. But have you never been deeply impressed by fiction; never
+been scared by a ghost story? Have you shed tears over the sorrows of
+Colonel Newcome? The few quotations you have heard cause you to shrink,
+though you are well aware they are but foolish words. But if you could
+_see_ the scenes herein depicted, I do not think you could bear the
+prospect. I am sure _I_ should howl as lustily as any hellish monster
+here referred to. Well, Mrs. Leonard being so constituted, has actually
+_seen_ these horrors, and, in the central figure, has contemplated the
+writhings of her child."
+
+"Oh, Doctor!" she spoke in a subdued tone, her eyes expressing more than
+her words.
+
+"Even you, here in this well-lighted and cheerful room, with me, a very
+material and matter-of-fact person, beside you, even you can feel a
+faint reflection of the terrors in which this woman spent the day.
+Alone, without food, a deserted room, a gloomy house, but lately
+cheerful with the prattle of a childish voice, forever silent, but of
+which the echoes still linger in the mother's ears--here's enough and
+more than enough to disturb an exalted temperament, a morbid
+imagination. Add this"--the doctor shook the book in his hand--"and what
+need of belief, if by belief you mean the result of a reasoning process?
+The ideas suggested _here took possession of her_! Belief! Pshaw! nobody
+believes in this stuff; but Hampton says it believes."
+
+"But that's monstrous!"
+
+"Nothing more common than loud assertions of belief where is no belief.
+That's politics, partisanship."
+
+"But this is religion----"
+
+"So-called."
+
+"But----"
+
+"The Westminster Confession is a written document. The men who composed
+it knew what they wished to say, and said it so clearly that nobody can
+misapprehend their meaning. Your own creed of compromises--pardon me,
+compromise is always the resort of politicians who understand their
+business--was wiser, or luckier; its Articles are all loopholes in
+regard to this doctrine of Election----"
+
+"Doctor, your ignorance of my church is so palpable that I decline to
+take your word concerning Hampton and the Confession of Faith. I've
+never read it----"
+
+"Even its adherents are not so rash. It becomes a serious matter as to
+one's self-respect to maintain a monstrous absurdity, after one knows
+it. Nevertheless, the Westminster Confession teaches as truth all that
+the Reverend Eliphalet says, or that Michael Wigglesworth grotesquely
+sings. Moreover, it is annually published under the title of 'The
+Constitution and Standards of the Presbyterian Church in the United
+States of America'--a solemn declaration that God, before the creation
+of man, damned the great majority to everlasting agony so excruciating
+as to be beyond conception, and all for His own glory and pleasure."
+
+"Yet I know, and you ought to know, that Christianity offers salvation
+to every soul through the medium of its Founder."
+
+"Denied _in toto_ by Westminster. According to the Confession, not even
+Jesus Christ could diminish the number of the damned, fixed before the
+creation of a single soul. If Mrs. Leonard's baby was born to be damned,
+damned he is."
+
+"Now I know you are asserting what is not so. I have heard infant
+damnation denied by Hampton professors."
+
+"And may again. I do not claim that a single human being believes the
+Westminster Confession; but I do maintain that he who acknowledges that
+Confession as his standard, and retains membership in that church, which
+annually promulgates the same as truth, either believes an outrageous
+absurdity, or says he believes it. If he is not willing to do this, he
+has no right in the organization; why, only the other day Dr. Willis was
+requested to get out because he declined to say he believed that which
+he does not believe."
+
+"Doctor, I am sorry to say it, but your statements are not credible----"
+
+"Don't apologize. Of course they are not; but they are true. I certainly
+don't blame you for doubting my word. But you shall ask Hodge; I'll lend
+you his commentary. Hodge hopes as to infants, but is honest enough to
+admit that in the Confession there is no ground for hope. He damns all
+heathen incontinently, which includes all the babies I ever knew, though
+he may have known babies that were not heathen. And, after all, why this
+solicitude for babies? Why is it less monstrous to condemn to eternal
+torture a being six feet long than one of three? Why, on the last
+occasion I was in a church I heard these words: 'The sentiment which
+sorrows over what God reveals as His will is simply maudlin. When the
+Christian finds out who are in the regions of despair he will neither be
+affected by their number nor by the duration of their punishment.'
+That's not much better than 'bleating mothers.' And in the
+meanwhile"--he concluded a tirade so rapidly uttered that his auditor
+had had no opportunity to interrupt--"they are quarreling about Socrates
+and tobacco, crusading against my bottle of claret, and sending
+missionaries to Japan." Who "they" were he had no opportunity to
+designate, for at this moment a messenger from the nurse announced that
+the patient was awake.
+
+When the doctor and the lady entered the room, Natalie looked at them,
+but betrayed no surprise. Mrs. Joe was startled by the expression of her
+face, which was peaceful, even happy. "Heaven is beautiful," she said,
+without other preface. "Birds and flowers and little children. Oh! the
+happy little children and Lenny among them; all so happy, so rosy! Ah, I
+am glad!" And even as she sighed her gladness she sank into slumber. The
+doctor watched her anxiously for many minutes; then he signed to Mrs.
+Joe to follow, and they softly left the room.
+
+"Is it death?" asked the lady, who had been frightened by his anxious
+face.
+
+"Such visions often mean death; there's nothing certain yet, but every
+hope. Go to bed, Mrs. Claghorn; I shall remain here."
+
+But though the lady declined to go to bed, the discussion was not
+resumed.
+
+About four in the morning he went alone to the room, and soon returned
+with a smiling face. "She is sleeping naturally," he said. "A few hours
+since I feared for her reason; now I have great hope. I shall return at
+eight o'clock. Let nobody go near her. Burn that thing; she must never
+see it again." He pointed to the "Call to the Careless," and left the
+house.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX.
+
+STARTLING EFFECT OF "DR. BURLEY'S TRUE MEANING."
+
+
+Leonard remained in New York, ignorant of the events which had
+transpired at Stormpoint, concerning which, however, he was soon
+informed by a letter written by Mrs. Joe, a letter which conveyed the
+intelligence that his wife had fainted in the cemetery "as a consequence
+of over-exertion," that Dr. Stanley wished the intended visit to Newport
+to be made as soon as possible, that there was no need of his presence
+in Easthampton, and that if he were to come there he would probably find
+his wife already departed. All of which, though dictated by the
+physician, had been written with misgiving, as conveying an insufficient
+statement of the facts. But the doctor had been peremptory. "Keep them
+apart," he had said. "The only subject on which Leonard can expatiate
+just now is damnation, and of that the wife has had more than enough."
+
+Leonard evinced no desire to follow the Newport party. Misled by the
+communication from the lady of Stormpoint, and yet more influenced by
+reluctance to enter the household of Mrs. Leon, of which household he
+assumed Berthe Lenoir to be still an inmate, he was willing to enjoy a
+holiday which he thought he had fairly earned. Mrs. Joe, though
+surprised by his acquiescence, was relieved. She was still more
+surprised when her keen vision detected that Natalie was equally
+relieved. "It seemed," she observed to the doctor, "to lighten her
+heart."
+
+"Instinct," he replied, and made no further comment; but though
+ordinarily very discreet as to professional matters, he mentioned the
+circumstance to his wife, at the same time advancing a theory which
+startled that lady.
+
+Freed from anxiety concerning Natalie, whose letters, though very short,
+reported continuing improvement in the matter of health, Leonard
+resolved, for the present at least, to forget the ingratitude of
+Hampton, and to enjoy to the fullest his bachelor outing. He recalled
+his strolls on Parisian Boulevards, and in fancy lived in past delights,
+promenading Broadway with the old Parisian strut, though modified, and
+not oblivious of the fact that here, as in Paris, were handsome eyes,
+not unwilling to return the glance of one who had been likened to a
+Greek god.
+
+Sometimes, indeed often, he lamented that his lot had not been cast in
+the great world. His instincts truthfully told him that, as a man of
+action, he would have presented no mean figure; there were even moments
+when he wished, though he knew the futility of such a wish, that he
+might never see Hampton or hear of theology again. This he knew well
+enough was but the natural reaction from the strain of his recent
+labors, but he toyed with the thought, half playfully, half regretfully,
+as indicating one of the things that might have been. If there were any
+conscience-pricks they were too feeble to be felt; he had ceased to be a
+boy (so he said to himself); the boy, for instance, he had been when, on
+the Heidelberg terrace, he had yearned over the erring soul of his
+cousin. The religious sentiment which once had glowed so ardently in his
+bosom was burned out, consumed in the heat of partisan theology; but
+though he knew this, he did not know the meaning of the fact. To him it
+meant that his salvation was assured, and with that conviction the great
+concern of life had passed into the peace which passeth understanding.
+
+Just now, however, he was not giving much attention to his personal
+religious attitude, as he moved among the city's throngs well-clad, rosy
+and with the form and grace of an athlete and the eager eyes of
+innocence and unconscious desire. In the delight of the holiday, a
+delight which sometimes rose to a surprising fervor, he thought of
+certain Parisian peccadillos, and more than once half resolved to renew
+his acquaintance with the ballet and _belles jambes_, like unto those of
+Mademoiselle Coralie, which gamboled ravishingly in the haze of memory;
+but he rejected the imprudent suggestion; he might be recognized, and
+Brigston would rejoice in unholy glee, if its most potent adversary--he
+wondered if this fact were known to the passers-by--were discovered in a
+temple of dubious recreation. Such recollections brought Paris very
+vividly before his eyes, and for some reason also the memory of Berthe
+and of that rapturous kiss; and perhaps at such times the handsome face
+assumed the look of which Mrs. Joe had disapproved.
+
+The remembrance of Berthe recalled Natalie, who, as he believed, was in
+the house with her former maid, and Natalie's beauty, and he was filled
+with tenderness, and his soul yearned with a great longing, and had it
+not been that Berthe was there he would have fled to Newport. He
+recognized now a fact of which he had, in a vague way, been long
+conscious, the fact that ever since the birth of the boy he and his wife
+had grown somewhat apart. She had been engrossed with the child, and he
+with his theological war. He regretted it, and resolved that it must not
+be so in the future. Loving one another as they did, it would be easy to
+grow together again. He would tell her how grievously he had been
+treated by Hampton, in its envy; and on the beautiful bosom that he
+loved and that was his own, would pour out his griefs and find sweetest
+solace. If she would only curtail her visit!
+
+One day there came a letter from his wife which he opened in the eager
+hope that it would announce the termination of her stay in Newport. He
+was disappointed in this, and was further rendered uneasy by the tone of
+constraint in which it was written, or which he imagined; for if there
+were constraint, it was hard to point out just where it lay; yet he
+felt, if he could not see, that the pen of the writer had been heavy in
+her hand. But he was more than uneasy; he felt resentment rising within
+him as he read the postscript, which was as follows: "Do you believe
+that there is an eternal hell and that many are condemned? Will you
+answer this as briefly as possible?"
+
+He studied the written words with growing annoyance. The curtness of the
+question seemed to indicate that to the questioner the matter was of
+minor import--trivial, in fact; if she really thought thus, then all his
+recent labors had been labor in vain. Nothing had so angered him as
+suggestions of this character, frequently made by a godless secular
+press. One journal had, with pretended gravity, argued that since all
+heathen and their progeny must be damned, extermination was more
+merciful than the hopeless attempt at conversion, and at least as
+practicable; another had flippantly suggested that Professor Claghorn be
+required to demonstrate the utility of theological seminaries, since no
+product of those institutions could, by any possibility, be instrumental
+in saving a single soul--and so on. All of which he had borne with a
+fair show of equanimity, but he had smarted; and now Natalie's question
+seemed, at first sight, an echo of the unworthy journalistic jibes.
+There might be various opinions concerning hell; it was conceivable that
+the great majority preferred an attitude of incredulity as to its
+inevitable destination; but, at least, it was a serious subject.
+
+But later readings of the letter seemed to indicate that it had been
+written with a heavy heart. There was affection in it, but a tone of
+gloom as well, which, though Natalie admitted that her health was
+completely restored, was too apparent to permit the supposition of a
+trifling postcript. The inference, then, must be that she had arrived at
+a not uncommon stage of religious agitation, often preliminary to
+conversion, a stage which he knew to be frequently of intense suffering
+to the neophyte, though satisfactory to pious observers, who were
+inclined to see in the lowest depths of misery the sure precursor of the
+highest joy. He had, himself, at an unusually early age, passed through
+a similar experience, and though that period of anguish was so far
+behind him that he could not recall its terrors, he knew that they had
+been very dreadful, and that his parents, to whom he had been as the
+apple of their eye, had been correspondingly complacent. There was, in
+these days, less of the agonized form of religious experience, but he
+could easily understand that it might happen to Natalie, who, in
+religion, was still but a babe.
+
+The only way to deal with the matter was the way in which it had been
+treated in his own case. There must be no slurring of the truth. He
+would disdain that course in private as much as he had disdained it in
+public. Hampton might shrink from disclosure of eternal verity; he would
+not.
+
+Wherefore, he sent to Natalie his pamphlet, entitled, "Dr. Burley's True
+Meaning," not sorry that she should see how clearly and uncompromisingly
+he could state matters which others had been willing to obscure. The
+true meaning of the Confession, and, therefore, of the Bible, and,
+therefore, of the learned biblical scholar whose text Leonard
+illuminated, was that the majority of mankind was on the way to a hell,
+eternal, and of torture inconceivable.
+
+The pamphlet was relentless, as was proper; but in his accompanying
+letter to his wife Leonard was very tender. He showed her that there was
+but one course to pursue in the face of indisputable truth, and that was
+resignation to the will of heaven. Weak humanity might grieve over God's
+will; such sorrow was certainly pardonable by man, but was nevertheless
+rebellion; and, before complete reconciliation to God could be assumed,
+must be dismissed from the heart. Leaving religion, he proceeded to tell
+his wife that his longing for her was growing absolutely insupportable,
+and he was much more fervid in his petition that she hasten her return
+home than he had been in his doctrinal expositions. He dispatched his
+letter, and returned to his former avocations, but with little spirit;
+he longed for Natalie, and had no room for other than the thoughts that
+accompanied his longing. In a few days he was able to start for home,
+Natalie having, in a very short letter, in which she made no comment on
+the one he had last written, announced her arrival in Hampton by a train
+due there a few minutes later than the one from New York by which he
+traveled, and when he finally alighted at the station, he was tremulous
+with anticipation, and his disappointment was proportionate when the
+Newport train arrived with none of the expected travelers.
+
+There was nothing to do but to bear a revulsion of feeling, which was
+actually painful. He walked across the Square to his home, and found the
+maids with everything prepared for his arrival, and with a letter from
+Natalie which informed him that she would be in Hampton on the
+following morning.
+
+He went early to bed, discontented and fretful. He slept badly, and in
+the night got up and wandered restlessly about, and in his wanderings
+made a discovery which might have remained unnoticed had the fancies
+which vexed his repose been of a different character.
+
+After the birth of her child, Natalie had occupied a room separate from
+her husband's, in order that the latter, whose literary labors were
+exacting, should not be disturbed. In his prowling Leonard discovered
+evidences that this arrangement was to be continued, and as he stood in
+the gaslight considering the tokens whereby he inferred that one room
+was reserved for masculine, the other for feminine occupancy, he
+mentally pronounced the arrangement unsatisfactory, and experienced a
+feeling of vexation amounting to resentment.
+
+But resentment gave way when, next morning, having seen Mrs. Joe and
+Paula drive away to Stormpoint, and having followed Natalie to the room
+which he had inspected the night before with dissatisfaction, he once
+more held her in his arms. The light that gleamed from her eyes, the
+roseate hue upon her feverish cheeks, the rich red lips upon which he
+pressed his own hungrily--the beautiful reality, fairer than the fairest
+vision of his hours of longing, banished every thought but one.
+
+He held her long in a close embrace. He was very happy, and when she had
+withdrawn from his arms he sat upon the edge of the bed telling her of
+his disappointment of the day before, and of his nocturnal prowlings,
+and laughingly advancing his objections to the sleeping arrangements she
+had ordered. Meanwhile, she said but little, being engaged in searching
+for something in her trunk. At length she found whatever she had been
+seeking. "Leonard," she said, "go down to the library. I must speak to
+you, but not here."
+
+The manner and the tone puzzled him--then he remembered. He sighed
+involuntarily. It was an inopportune moment to discuss conversion--but
+since she was in its throes----He went downstairs; his face betrayed
+vexation.
+
+Soon she entered the room where he awaited her, seated in a big chair.
+She knelt before him, taking his hand in hers. "Leonard," she said, "I
+am sorry you don't like the arrangement of the bedrooms."
+
+Her solemnity had led him to expect something of greater importance than
+this, which was, however, decidedly a more welcome topic. "You know,
+dearest," he said, with a quizzical look, "as husband and wife----"
+
+"Leonard! Leonard! We dare not be husband and wife."
+
+He stared at her in amazement. "What do you mean?" he said.
+
+"I mean this," she answered, producing "Dr. Burley's True Meaning." "Oh,
+Leonard! How could the same man write that book and be a father?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+HE CLASPED HER LITHE BODY WITH A CLUTCH OF FURY.
+
+
+Mrs. Joe had not obeyed Dr. Stanley's injunction, to burn the "Call to
+the Careless," but had studied that delectable composition sufficiently
+to compel her to exonerate the doctor from her suspicion, that he had
+invented much of the matter, which he had, in fact, read from the text
+before him.
+
+Her researches had not been without an object. It is, perhaps,
+unnecessary to point out that this lady's conscience was sufficiently
+elastic for ordinary purposes, even for ordinary political purposes, and
+it might have with stood the assaults made upon it by her investigation,
+had she been of the usual sex of politicians. She could go far in the
+interests of her son, but long ago she had borne another child, whose
+smile as it faded in death had ever been, at odd moments, before her,
+and constantly before her during her wanderings in fields theological,
+and she had but recently seen a woman crazed by contemplation of her
+baby in hell. When she had learned, by means of her studies, that a
+great ecclesiastical body still dooms the vast majority of those born of
+woman to everlasting woe, it came upon her like a blow in the face that,
+in order to see her son in the legislature, she had aided in
+promulgating the diabolical creed which, in the face of nineteen
+centuries of Christianity, is still waved aloft as the Standard of a
+Christian Church.
+
+Upon the first shock of this knowledge she followed the inevitable
+course of the conscience-stricken, and proceeded to argue with the
+inward monitor. "Nobody believes that now," she insisted; "the actual
+belief has been modified to accord with common sense. No Christian can
+admit that God is a demon, and no Christian can teach impossible
+falsehood." In answer to which, Conscience pointed to the title-page,
+which proclaimed the Confession to be the "Standard of the Presbyterian
+Church in the United States of America.'" She resolved to seek
+enlightenment at the acknowledged head of human wisdom in Hampton, and
+called for the purpose on the great Dr. Burley himself. Him she
+encountered as he was emerging from his front door. "Does Hampton
+actually uphold the Westminster Confession?" she asked.
+
+"Certainly, my dear madam, so does Brigston."
+
+"I'm not interested in Brigston. I am in Hampton."
+
+"And we are all glad that it is so. But, I see--I've always been afraid
+of it; you are going to try and get us all over to St. Perpetua, ha!
+ha!"
+
+"And does Hampton really believe----?"
+
+"Only what is true. I must be off to my lecture now; we must have it out
+some other time. How's the Bishop? Fine fellow; wish we had him.
+Good-bye; Mrs. Burley will be _delighted to_ see you," and the doctor
+waved the lady into the house and made his escape.
+
+Having no desire to call upon Mrs. Burley, the lady of Stormpoint
+remained in the vestibule only long enough for the gentleman to get
+away; she then descended the steps and was about to enter her carriage,
+when she was accosted by Dr. Stanley, who, after the usual salutations,
+asked her if she had seen Leonard recently.
+
+"I am about to call on him now--on unpleasant business."
+
+"That's a pity. You'll wish you had stayed at home. I have just left
+him; he's as cross as three sticks, which I suppose are crosser than the
+proverbial two."
+
+"I suppose because the newspapers are still nagging him."
+
+"Perhaps; yet if you could manage a confidential talk with Mrs. Leonard,
+it might be a good thing."
+
+"Ah! You've noticed that there's domestic trouble? I have suspected it.
+Why was he willing to stay away from Newport? Why was his wife reluctant
+to come home?"
+
+"Perhaps you can find out. Doctors can't ask indiscreet questions more
+than other people."
+
+"And you think I can, or will?" In answer to which the physician merely
+shrugged his shoulders.
+
+The lady drove away, her distaste for the task before her not diminished
+by the encounter. She was quite sure that the physician would not have
+made the allusions, which had fallen from him, unless he believed that
+the domestic status in the Morley mansion was of grave significance.
+Which, in fact, it was; a dark shadow loomed, ever larger, in the old
+house.
+
+Leonard was very unhappy. Natalie's ignorance, in respect to his
+longings, her utter absence of sympathy; these formed the side of the
+shadow visible to him. He was irritable, at times harsh; but more deadly
+in its possible results was a sullen resentment, so deep that its
+ferocity and strength were unsuspected by himself. He was gazing moodily
+out of the library window when Mrs. Joe's equipage stopped at the door,
+and in another moment the lady was ushered in.
+
+"What is it?" he asked shortly. His manner was divested of its usual
+graces. He looked moodily at the floor.
+
+"Only a matter of business. Leonard, have you informed the Hampton
+people of the gift of which I spoke to you?"
+
+"It has been mentioned."
+
+"Leonard, I ought not to give it."
+
+"You don't mean you have met with serious losses?" he exclaimed,
+impressed by her manner.
+
+"No, no! But my views have changed; that is, I have made discoveries.
+Will it annoy you, personally, if the gift is not made?"
+
+"I shall regret it; but nobody will blame me, if that's what you mean."
+
+She was relieved. Still, it was painful to withhold a promised gift,
+especially painful to deprive him just now of the credit of being her
+almoner. "I wish you to take this," she said, handing him a cheque. "Let
+it go to the poor of the town, the hospital, the blind asylum----"
+
+He took the slip of paper she held out to him. He was startled by the
+amount. "Mrs. Joe----" he commenced.
+
+"We can arrange as to details," she interrupted. "Oblige me by taking it
+now."
+
+He saw that she was somewhat agitated, and knew that she feared that the
+withdrawal of the gift to the Seminary might have wounded him. This was
+her way of curing such wounds. It would be ungracious to refuse the
+cheque, yet even as he looked at it, a strange foreboding was upon him.
+
+He sat down saying he would prefer to give her a receipt as trustee. "As
+you say, we must arrange as to details. Meanwhile, I suggest a portion
+of the sum for the Missionary Fund----"
+
+"Not one penny of it," she answered with energy.
+
+"Do you object to the conversion of the heathen?" he asked surprised.
+
+"I do," was her emphatic answer. "Leave them alone. I suppose there are
+among them some that look with hope beyond the grave. I will not be an
+instrument to destroy that hope."
+
+He jumped at once to the conclusion that she had been reading some of
+the frothy and ill-considered articles of the secular press in regard to
+the Hampton-Brigston controversy, and again the suspicion arose in his
+mind that Natalie was influenced by the wretched diatribes of the
+newspapers.
+
+"I should fail in my duty as a Christian, Mrs. Joe," he said coldly, "if
+I made no effort to disabuse your mind of prejudice. Your capacity to
+aid a noble cause is so great----"
+
+"God knows," she interrupted earnestly, "I desire to use that capacity
+for good. I have done grievous harm hitherto."
+
+"I do not understand."
+
+"Leonard, look at this. It is a fair statement. I know it because I have
+tested every line of it in the Seminary Library. Can I give money to
+bring tidings of their eternal damnation to the heathen? They are
+happier without such knowledge."
+
+He took from her hand a cutting from a newspaper. It was an attack on
+his theology: "As a mitigation of the misery which flows from the
+Westminster Confession," wrote the journalist, "probation after death
+has been suggested by weaklings. We know how that suggestion has been
+received. In June, 1893, the General Assembly of the Church convicted
+Dr. Briggs, its author, of heresy, and stigmatized sanctification after
+death as 'in direct conflict with the plain teachings of the Divine
+Word, and the utterances of the Standards of our Church'; a deliverance
+which consigns to hell myriads of Jews, Mohammedans and honest doubters
+of Christendom--all to be added to the number of heathen in hell.
+Concerning these last, various computations have been made by
+theologians of a mathematical turn; the American Board estimates that
+five hundred millions go to hell every thirty years, or as Dr. Skinner
+has it, thirty-seven thousand millions since the Christian era. Dr.
+Hodge states that none escape. The last-named learned commentator on the
+Confession of Faith is even hopeless as to Christian infants, concerning
+whom he says, 'It is certainly revealed that none, either adult or
+infant, are saved, except by special election,' and that it is not
+'positively revealed that all infants are elect.'"
+
+The article proceeded to argue that, if all this were true (which the
+writer denied), to impart the knowledge to the heathen would be cruel,
+and that if it were not true, so much the less should lives and money be
+spent in the dissemination of false views of God's mercy and justice.
+
+"Beyond the fact that the writer is thoroughly illogical, slipshod and
+evidently malicious, there is no fault to be found with his statements,"
+observed Leonard, as he returned the cutting to the lady.
+
+"Leonard, my conscience will not permit me to disseminate a faith which
+knows no mercy."
+
+He respected Mrs. Joe; he could even sympathize with her views, though,
+regarding her as a child in doctrine, he did not think it worth while to
+attempt to explain to her the enlightening and consolatory effect of the
+"high mysteries," which are to be handled "with especial care." "Let the
+matter rest awhile," he said. "I will arrange as to the hospital and for
+a donation to the blind asylum. We can agree as to the distribution of
+the rest of the fund later. You will not always be so hard on Hampton.
+Theology is not learned in a day, Mrs. Joe, and, you will excuse me for
+saying it, you have not given as much thought to the matter as some
+others."
+
+"I am not foolish enough to pretend to a knowledge of theology. That
+would be as absurd as the exhibition presented by men who pass years in
+striving to reconcile eternal damnation and common justice." Having
+fired this shot, the lady took her departure.
+
+The door had scarce closed upon her when Leonard called Natalie. An
+impression, revived by his visitor and her newspaper cutting, that his
+wife's attitude had its inspiration in the empty criticisms of the
+press, had aroused his anger. He resolved that the present mode of
+living should terminate. He had rights, God-given, as well as by the
+laws of men; he would enforce them if he must.
+
+In their intercourse recently, Leonard had refrained from harshness, but
+he had been unable to conceal a resentment, hourly growing in strength;
+his manner had been hard and sullen. Without exhibiting actual
+discourtesy he had shown plainly enough that he preferred to be alone,
+and, except when it was inevitable, husband and wife had hardly met or
+spoken together for days.
+
+Hence, when Natalie heard him call, a flush, born partly of
+apprehension, partly of hope, suffused her cheek. She came toward him,
+smiling and rosy, a vision of radiant loveliness. The pleading
+tenderness of her eyes was answered by the wolfish gleam of a gaze that
+arrested her steps. He seized her in his arms, clasping the lithe body
+in a clutch of fury, kissing her red lips and clinging to their
+sweetness with a ferocity that terrified her. In this shameful embrace
+they wrestled a moment until the man's violence enfeebled himself. She
+broke from him, standing before him an image of outraged modesty,
+panting, indignant and bewildered.
+
+"Leonard!"
+
+He sank into a chair and covered his face with his hands. His own
+self-respect was shocked. He was humiliated, and his shame increased his
+resentment.
+
+"What is it?" she asked, placing a trembling hand on his shoulder, and
+noting that he shuddered at the touch.
+
+"What is it?" he repeated. For a moment a fury to strike her possessed
+him. By an effort he calmed himself.
+
+"Natalie," he said, in a slow, measured tone, "do you regard me as your
+husband?"
+
+"You know I do, Leonard."
+
+He sighed despairingly. How was he to bring a knowledge of facts to
+this woman incapable of comprehending them, or what they signified for
+him?
+
+"Natalie," he said, and now he took her hand in his, noting its cool
+freshness again his own hot palm. "We cannot live thus; we are married.
+We must be husband and wife."
+
+"You dare not create victims of hell," she whispered.
+
+"Natalie, you would impiously abrogate God's holy ordinance. Marriage is
+enjoined by Scripture. Sin of the most heinous character is born of
+neglect of this ordinance of God."
+
+"Leonard, Leonard," she cried, "you can have no assurance that your
+children will be saved. Only the elect."
+
+"All, dying in infancy are elect," he answered impatiently. "That is the
+universal belief of to-day."
+
+She grew very white as she looked at him; her eyes were big with horror.
+"Do you mean," she asked hoarsely, "that we should murder our babies?"
+
+"Murder!" he exclaimed, amazed.
+
+"Since only infants are certainly saved----"
+
+He burst into a discordant laugh. "Natalie," he said, "as a reasoner you
+would do credit to Brigston."
+
+"I can see no other way," she said after a pause. "My reasoning may be
+defective, but you do not show me its defects. Surely you believe the
+Confession and the catechisms?"
+
+"Every line of either," he answered defiantly and in anger. Had he not
+labored night and day for a year past to demonstrate the truth of the
+"Standards"?
+
+"Then," she answered sadly, "you have no right to become a father.
+Fathers and mothers are instruments of the devil. According to your
+belief, no sin can compare with the sin of bringing forth a creature so
+offensive to God that it must suffer eternal punishment. You may believe
+that you and I are both to dwell together in hell. If that be our fate
+we must submit. But our children, Leonard! Shall we earn their hatred in
+life, and watch their torments in unquenchable fires?"
+
+"Do you compare yourself and me, and children born of us, to the
+depraved mass of humanity? Have you no assurance of God's gracious
+mercy?"
+
+"God's gracious mercy!" she repeated. "God's gracious mercy!"
+
+"Natalie," he said, making a great effort to speak calmly. "You who but
+a short time since had no religion, surely you will concede that I know
+something of that which has been the study of my life. I tell you that
+your reasoning is frantic nonsense; it would be blasphemous if it were
+not for your ignorance."
+
+"You believe the Confession true--every line. I have studied it; I have
+studied your book. Prior to that I had spent a whole day, in this very
+room, reading----"
+
+He laughed, but as before there was no mirth in the laugh. "A whole
+day," he said, "and this profound research enables you to contend with
+me in a science that I have studied all my life."
+
+"On that day," she answered, shuddering, "the fires of hell blazed
+before my eyes and I heard the wails of damned souls. In a day much may
+be learned. If what I then saw be true--I do not know--you say it is;
+you say hell is----"
+
+"And say it again," he interrupted. "If I had never known it before, I
+would know it now."
+
+"Then, Leonard, you must justify me. Since God cannot save the
+innocent----"
+
+"He punishes the guilty only."
+
+"Having himself decreed their guilt! In the face of that decree there is
+no human guilt. Even marriage, that most hideous of all crimes, does not
+merit endless suffering----"
+
+"You insist that all are damned; you rave. Nobody asserts that all are
+damned."
+
+"'He hath chosen some to eternal life and foreordained the rest to
+dishonor and wrath.' Yet if there were but a single soul to suffer; if
+but one solitary creature of all the millions of men were doomed to
+dwell in hell forever--the knowledge that your child, Leonard, might be
+that lonely one--surely such knowledge----"
+
+He ground his teeth. She drew texts from the source he had declared to
+be the living truth. He had no answer; there was no answer.
+
+"Leave me," he whispered, in a tone that evidenced his fury better than
+a roar of rage. Again he hid his face in his hands. She often turned to
+look at him as she slowly withdrew, but he did not raise his head.
+
+He wrestled fiercely with his emotions and with the problem that fate
+had raised. At times rage consumed his soul, and his thoughts rioted in
+brutal instigation, which even then he feared, and of which he was
+ashamed. At moments he hated, at moments he loved, but hating or loving,
+the seductive charms of the woman swayed before his eyes, mocking him as
+the mirage mocks the fainting pilgrim. Hours passed and he remained in
+the same attitude, striving to estimate the situation correctly, so that
+he could evolve a remedy. He could not deny her reasoning; he would not
+give up his faith. His mind, rigid from the training to which it had
+been subjected, was incapable of readily admitting new theories; and his
+best nourished and most vigorous attribute was involved. Whether his
+integrity could be bent or not, it was certain that his vanity would not
+submit. No! He would not deny his faith. He would enforce his rights.
+
+But not without further effort at persuasion. He made a heroic and
+worthy resolve. He would be patient still, meanwhile using every gentle
+measure. He would enlist Mrs. Joe in his cause. She was a matron, shrewd
+and too well balanced to allow religious notions to carry her to
+fanatical extremes; and she did not hold his own views, apparently not
+even as to eternal punishment. Perhaps she would convince Natalie that
+there was no hell. It would be a lie, but better that his wife believe a
+lie than that hell reign in his house and in his bosom.
+
+At the dinner hour the maid handed her mistress a note. It ran thus:
+
+     "Dear Natalie--I have decided to leave home for a little time.
+     I think we are better apart. If you will open your heart to
+     Mrs. Joe she will explain that which you and I cannot discuss.
+     I learn that you are in your own room, and think it better not
+     to disturb you. Good-bye, for a little time. It may be that I
+     shall not write.
+
+     "LEONARD."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+A PAEAN OF VICTORY HYMNED IN HELL.
+
+
+On the day following that upon which Leonard and Natalie had last met in
+Leonard's study, there were two women in a room of a shabby New York
+house, evidently once a worthy residence, but now sadly fallen from that
+estate.
+
+One of the two, half dressed, with a good deal of tarnished lace
+decorating such clothing as she had on, sat on the bed in an easy
+attitude, careless as to the display of a handsome person. Dark,
+heavy-browed, her first youth past, her haggard face was redeemed by
+deep, soft eyes, that now, however, from beneath their long lashes,
+looked out upon the face of the other woman with suspicious wariness.
+
+This one, overfed, coarse, vile to look upon, with the face of a painted
+gargoyle, red and mottled, garishly dressed in a loose gown, stood with
+arms akimbo, her little eyes bent wickedly upon the woman on the bed.
+
+"Ten days' board," croaked the fat one. "Ten days."
+
+"Ten weeks, for all I care," was the reply.
+
+The fat creature wheezed and snorted; she half lifted her great red hand
+as if to administer a blow.
+
+"Try it," said the other, "and I'll stick this into you," holding
+threateningly the blade of a pair of scissors.
+
+The fat one recoiled; there was enough recklessness in the eyes of the
+woman with the scissors to justify the movement. "Now, now, Frenchy,"
+she remonstrated, "you won't be a fool. Possy bate, eh?"
+
+"_Pas si bete_," laughed the other grimly. "Try it and see!"
+
+"You know," said the rubicund one, "this ain't white, Berthe. Whose
+fault is it if you've no money?"
+
+"Ah!" exclaimed Berthe. "You think me of your kind. I'm a lady; I was a
+fool to come here."
+
+"Sure, you're a lady; and for that very reason ought to make a mint of
+money. I'll tell you what's the matter with you, Berthe--you're a mule.
+I swear," she exclaimed, suddenly conscious of wrong, "my boarders is
+the bane of my life. Mules--but there, nobody'd believe what I've
+borne."
+
+"_Malheureuse!_" sneered Berthe.
+
+"I tell you, missy, girls don't talk that way to me!" exclaimed the
+red-gowned dame, perhaps suspecting unseemly profanity veiled in a
+foreign tongue.
+
+"I don't want to talk any way to you. Get out," replied Berthe.
+
+"And the board bill?"
+
+"I've had nothing to eat for two days."
+
+"And won't have as long as you're a mule. If you have no money by this
+time to-morrow, out you go, and without your trunk; so Frenchy,"
+concluded the woman, changing her tone to persuasion, "be reasonable.
+You shall have dinner if you'll promise to go out afterward. Think it
+over," and she waddled off.
+
+Berthe lay back upon the pillow, her long arms stretched above her head,
+and thought it over.
+
+She had left Mrs. Leon long ago, and since then her steps had been
+downward. For awhile a nursery governess, which, being amply capable,
+she might have long remained had it not been for her eyes. She was not
+altogether conscious of the capacity of her eyes, and was long innocent
+of the knowledge of the strife and hatred they had wrought in the family
+in which she served. Maltreated by an infuriated mistress, she had
+avenged herself amply, living for months in luxury, and on the money and
+caresses legally belonging to the other. But she had never cared for her
+sinner, and he had been glad to creep back to that which he had
+dishonored, not forgiven, but accepted as a hard necessity. Her luxuries
+and her money were soon spent--as for the rest, it is a dark tale that
+she recalls, lying there majestic, with her long arms above her black
+head and her dark eyes brooding.
+
+The present was a problem. The move to this house was toward a deeper
+degradation than any she had known, and she recoiled from its demands.
+She knew its probable end, too. She was shrewd, dominant if she chose to
+be; in short, no fool. She could rise to prosperity and become like the
+gargoyle, but the prospect sickened her. All the inmates of the house
+were to her abhorrent, but the gargoyle was a loathsome, soulless,
+pitiless beast, only not a fool. The others were fools, and she knew,
+feeling the sparks of humanity within her, that she must even be a fool
+rather than a beast. And the end of the fool was misery, from which
+there was but one escape.
+
+She was hungry. It was true that, except as to some slices of bread,
+smuggled to her by soft-hearted ones, she had eaten nothing for two
+days. She had long ago pawned her articles of jewelry. Her clothes were
+in the clutch of the beast. She would have to apply to her for garments
+for the street. She must surrender.
+
+So she asked for her clothes and her dinner. The beast was gracious, but
+chary as to giving too many garments. The truth was, the beast hoped her
+boarder would not return. She had the trunk--she was sick of the mule.
+
+Berthe wandered toward the lower part of the city. Plainly dressed, her
+carriage dignified, she was not molested, nor did she cast her eyes upon
+any passer-by. She walked straight on, yet not rapidly, for there was no
+purpose in her walk. Useless to seek that man upon whose wife she had
+avenged herself; he had been hurried off to do penance in the country;
+even if he had returned, she knew nothing of his present abode.
+
+Mrs. Leon was a dweller in hotels, and at this season, not in town.
+Besides, Mrs. Leon could not be ignorant of what had been accomplished
+by the nursery governess she had herself recommended.
+
+She wished now, for in truth, as she walked on, terror of possible
+starvation began to haunt her, that she had carried out an often
+neglected impulse to write to a man she knew, and who she believed could
+help her. She would have done so before this, but the man's wife was a
+friend of Mrs. Leon. This recollection had prevented her addressing him.
+Yet she knew he would have helped her. He was young, he was kind. Ah! he
+was adorable.
+
+So she walked on, thinking of that adorable man, forgetting her fear of
+starvation. He had kissed her, or rather, and she smiled as she
+corrected herself, she had kissed him. He had been helpless. The
+innocent!
+
+By this time she was in Fourteenth Street. A man seeing the smile upon
+her lips, stood in her path and addressed her. She moved aside and
+walked on; the smile had been born of a memory sweet to her. The man
+looked after her, astonished at the majestic ignoring of himself.
+
+Suddenly the woman stopped, as if struck. Then she started, walking
+quickly, and entered a brilliantly lighted resort.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Leonard had passed a sleepless night in the train. In New York he went
+to a hotel which he had never before frequented. He desired to be alone.
+He had left home to think, not to seek acquaintance or distraction.
+
+And he thought, walking the streets of the great city until he was
+footsore, and the more he thought, the less capable was he of reasoning,
+the more weary he grew of thought; finally, striding onward in a dream
+of incoherent fancies, that were not thoughts, but impotent efforts of a
+tired brain. All day long there swayed before his eyes visions inspired
+by objects seen but not noted and most incongruous. The passing glance
+upon a billboard, gay with motley figures, gave birth to a picture of
+living damsels, languishing in postures of inviting loveliness. He saw
+no stony streets, no squalid scenes, but wandered in a Moslem heaven in
+whose crystal streams Naiads bathed fair round limbs or sported in
+wanton frolic in silvery cascades, anon decking with lilies the roseate
+beauties of their queen. He took no heed of time or place, pacing street
+after street, along the wharves, seeing neither ship nor dray; in the
+Hebrew crowd of the East Side, noting nothing of the soft-eyed men with
+dirty beards, nor the women wearing wigs of jute, nor the children
+dancing in the streets to hand-organs, nor any of the sights of that
+crowded foreign city, full of strange interest. Of the things before his
+eyes he saw nothing; nor could he, being entranced by raptures which had
+tried the souls of saints a thousand years ago!
+
+At ten o'clock at night, having eaten nothing since an early and
+neglected breakfast, he stood in the street, conscious that he must eat
+or faint. He entered a brilliantly lighted room where there were tables,
+but which was nearly empty.
+
+Back of the room he saw another filled with people, decked with palms
+and artificial grottoes. He entered and sat down at the first unoccupied
+table.
+
+"Bring me a sandwich," he said to the waiter, "and a drink."
+
+The sandwich was brought and the drink. The latter Leonard supposed was
+wine. He remembered that he had scruples against wine-drinking; had, in
+fact, never tasted wine. He was too tired to care much for scruples, and
+besides, he was faint, and even his scruples permitted wine in case of
+illness. He swallowed the liquor, which was whiskey, at one gulp, and
+commenced to eat ravenously.
+
+He ordered another sandwich and another drink, which was brought, this
+time with a carafe of water in addition. He drank greedily of the water,
+reserving his liquor, and, as ravenously as before, consumed his second
+sandwich.
+
+Then he looked about him with more interest in his surroundings than he
+had known during all that day. He felt comfortable, happy in fact. He
+stretched out his legs and sipped his liquor, this time noting the
+strength of the beverage, which made him cough and brought the tears to
+his eyes, causing a woman to smile slyly. He smiled in return, then
+looked quickly away, abashed at his own temerity in thus answering the
+involuntary expression of a strange lady. This, as he looked about him,
+he thought must be one of those German beer-gardens he had heard about,
+but in this country had never seen. Evidently the people did not bring
+their children. That was well. Beer-drinking was a bad example for
+children. The women looked tired, he thought, though some were very
+rosy, remarkably so, and all were tawdry. The men were not a
+nice-looking set, though there were exceptions. Many were not much more
+than boys, and these affected brilliant, if somewhat dirty, neckwear.
+There were things about this place that offended him; principally, the
+tone of the men. They lolled a good deal and smoked in the women's
+faces; that was German, he supposed. The women, of whom a number were
+alone, were better behaved. He noticed a waiter order one to leave the
+place; that was singular, especially as she had slunk in very quietly
+and had seemed very humble. Suddenly the great orchestrion commenced to
+squeal and bang and clash, and soon the heads of the people were
+strangely bobbing, keeping time; now the strains grew soft and
+plaintive; a profound sadness crept over him as he listened to what
+seemed the requiem of a dying soul. He felt the tears rising in his
+eyes.
+
+For a long time he had been eagerly watched by a woman. Berthe could not
+be sure if this were indeed the man she knew. What could he be doing
+here? Half hidden behind a curtain which draped a huge column, she
+watched the heaving breast of the man. Suddenly, she saw his head fall
+forward, smashing a tumbler, and a cry of agony broke from him.
+"Natalie, Natalie!"
+
+It might have been the last despairing wail of the soul doomed
+thenceforward to darkness, whose requiem he had heard. To the obscene
+observers and the superintendent of the place it was the cry of a
+drunken man, who had no business there.
+
+There was no hubbub. The habitues of the place comprehended that nothing
+of that sort was allowed. The man was quickly hustled into the front
+room by the manager.
+
+"Get his hat," said this personage to a waiter. "Has he paid his bill?"
+he questioned as the man brought the hat.
+
+"Yes, except the broken glass."
+
+"Damn the glass!" replied the manager, who desired to get rid of the
+drunkard. "Come, young fellow, steady on your pins now and be off."
+
+A woman slipped her arm under Leonard's. "I will take care of him," she
+said.
+
+The manager looked at the pair as they made their way toward the street.
+"Do you know her?" he asked of an employee who had witnessed the
+departure.
+
+"She's not a regular, sure."
+
+"Nor he. Well, it's not our affair," and the manager returned to his
+duties.
+
+The two wandered off, the man's unsteady steps supported tenderly by the
+woman. When the sun rose, his head rested on her bosom and her lips
+hovered lovingly above his own, and the hum of the waking city, borne to
+his ears, may, to him, have been the distant harmony of a paean of
+victory hymned in hell.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+A DELECTABLE DISCUSSION, IN WHICH A SHAKSPERIAN MATRON IS ROUTED.
+
+
+Natalie Claghorn had always nourished a sentiment, which with many is a
+conviction, with most a hope, that man is something more than the futile
+hero of a sorry comedy--not made to live merely that he may die. Hence,
+religion had been a need of her being, and, though unconsciously, she
+had developed a creed of her own, vague, no doubt, from the positive
+standpoint, but one which excluded those essential elements of the faith
+of her husband, Hell and the Devil; grim inventions these which, while
+imbibing wisdom at the paternal knee, she had learned were mere memories
+of ancient Oriental mythologies. This view, in so far as she had given
+the matter any thought, she had supposed the view commonly held, and
+universally held among the cultured. Recently, indeed, there had been a
+moment in which even with her bodily eyes she had, as she had then
+believed, beheld the terrors and the torments of the damned; but as many
+men and women, who believe not in ghosts, have nevertheless seen these
+dwellers of the shades, and yet in less receptive phases of the mind
+have been able to dismiss their visitants to the shadows from which they
+were evoked, so Natalie had been able to discard belief in the reality
+of her vision. Nevertheless, though incredulous, he who has seen a ghost
+remains impressed, and the memory of her experience naturally recurred
+with her theological studies, serving to emphasize the horrible, rather
+than the absurd, aspect of her acquirements.
+
+Her desire to know had been honest, and she imputed honesty to others;
+hence, when Leonard, with pen and voice, asseverated his belief in a
+creed which must render paternity impossible to any being with a
+conscience, she had been confounded by the attitude he presented. She
+was not aware that between her husband and herself the sources of
+sympathy had always been shallow, and she was quite as ignorant of
+theological frenzy as she was of the knowledge of masculine passion. She
+had loved him; and she had loved Mrs. Joe, Paula, the Marquise, her maid
+Berthe; in fact, she had loved, and still loved, humanity, as far as she
+knew it, and it was thus that she had loved her husband, though,
+doubtless, in his case, this gentle flame had burned with more intensity
+than in others.
+
+Though grieved that Leonard had left her without saying good-bye, yet
+she felt that he had acted wisely, in that he had given her time to
+think without the disturbing sense of his presence in his repellant
+mood. And during this period an incident occurred which aided her in
+finding the only solution of the problems which vexed her.
+
+It was not to be expected of the Hampton matrons that they continue
+their tolerant attitude, with regard to Mrs. Leonard Claghorn. Her
+continued languid health after the birth of her child, the subsequent
+bereavement and absence, these had afforded an excuse for neglect; but
+now there was solicitude, and in a certain circle of dames, which met
+every fortnight to discuss Shakspere, but whereat other subjects, as
+possessing more of novelty, were occasionally considered, some rather
+severe strictures were made, in reference to Professor Claghorn's
+apparent inability to convert his wife--he who had so audaciously, if
+not successfully, coped with Brigston.
+
+"Brilliancy is less effective than earnestness," opined Mrs. Waring,
+wife of Professor Waring, whose forte was Hebrew, and who was noted for
+great erudition, a large family and a feeble intellect.
+
+"In the long run, no doubt," assented Mrs. Professor Flint. "But surely,
+she is not really unconverted!"
+
+"She certainly hides her light. There are times--I hope I am not
+uncharitable--when I wonder, suppose she were a Jesuit!"
+
+"Awful! She's French; her mother was noble--of the old nobility--and the
+old nobility are all Jesuits."
+
+"And a Jesuit will stick at nothing in the way of deception. It's a
+terrible possibility!"
+
+Natalie found apologists, notably Mrs. Tremaine, who maintained that
+there were no female Jesuits, and who defended the absent, partly
+because she was a spirited and generous woman, partly because, at this
+particular period, she experienced an unusually distinct impression of
+her own importance by reason of an acknowledged claim to the admiration
+of the other Shaksperians. Even Mrs. Waring, the mother of ten, was
+inclined to look with indulgence, if not with envy, upon this champion,
+though she whispered to Mrs. Flint that "after a half dozen, Mary
+Tremaine would change her note."
+
+However that may be, Mrs. Tremaine's note remained on this occasion
+triumphant, and she glowed with victory, and also with good intentions;
+for she resolved to warn Natalie that the gossips were preparing for a
+feast, "and," said the lady to herself, "it must be stopped; never allow
+a tiger a taste of blood," which mental exclamation clearly indicates
+the exaltation of the lady's spirit.
+
+In this spirit, as soon as the Shaksperian seance was over, she started
+for the Morley mansion, full of excellent intentions and the proud
+possessor of a secret already known to the wives of all the professors
+of the Seminary, except Natalie; and which, if confided to the latter,
+would indicate that friendly feeling by which she was really actuated,
+and thus pave the way to the warning she wished to give. She was also
+impelled by the pardonable desire to further impart the information
+already widely diffused; and which, in fact, could not remain much
+longer a secret, unless the complacent lady decided on complete
+seclusion for some months.
+
+"Yes," she said, "I suppose it will be noticeable soon. Professor
+Tremaine is so proud; he actually struts. He hopes for a boy."
+
+"Unfortunate woman!" exclaimed Natalie. "How can you smile?"
+
+"Dear Mrs. Claghorn, I forgot your own recent loss. Believe me,
+time----"
+
+"But, have I understood? You hope for a baby--you a Christian wife?"
+
+"Why not I--a Christian wife, as you say?" was the answer of the
+visitor, who was both shocked and puzzled by the expression of her
+hostess.
+
+"I do not understand," exclaimed Natalie hopelessly; then suddenly: "How
+can you dare? Have you no compassion, no fear? You can smile, believing
+that an awful calamity hangs over you!"
+
+"Awful calamity!" echoed the bewildered visitor, perhaps a little
+alarmed by the speaker's energy.
+
+"Is it not? Have I understood aright? Are you going to have a baby?"
+
+"I have said so. Why the fact should affect you so strangely is a
+mystery to me."
+
+"Do you believe this book?" and Natalie seized the well-known volume
+with its blue cover.
+
+"Certainly, I believe the Confession."
+
+"And your husband?"
+
+"Does he not teach it?"
+
+"And believing that this book is true, knowing that the furnaces of hell
+are choked with sinners--knowing this, you and your husband welcome the
+birth of a human being! God help me, and you, Mrs. Tremaine, forgive me,
+but I cannot understand these things. Why! you believe that your baby
+may be damned!"
+
+"How dare you say such things? My child will not be damned. Ah! You poor
+woman, I see. You have brooded over your own baby's death, and have been
+dwelling on horrors. I have heard of such cases. Dear Mrs. Claghorn,
+dismiss such dreadful folly from your mind. Babies are not damned;
+nobody has believed that for years."
+
+"_I_ do not fear for my child, nor for yours. But you--you cannot be
+sure he will die. He may grow up--what then?"
+
+"Then he must take his chance," said the would-be mother, though her
+face grew white. "We must all trust in God's grace."
+
+"But he lends His grace to his Elect only. Unless your infant was chosen
+from before creation, he _must_ be damned. You say this book is true,
+and yet you dare to have a child who may burn in hell! How can you
+commit such wickedness?" In her energy Natalie had arisen, and now stood
+before the unhappy matron in what to her seemed a threatening attitude.
+
+"I--I--do not comprehend," she faltered. "You have no right to speak
+thus to me."
+
+"No right! Have I not the right of humanity, the right of a
+child-bearing woman?"
+
+"But----"
+
+"I had some excuse, I did not know. But you knew--and yet you dared!"
+
+"I didn't," whimpered the lady. "It was the Professor--it was God's
+work. You talk horribly."
+
+"God's work! And you lend yourself to God's work! You could have
+died--anything, rather than be an instrument of wickedness in God's
+hands!"
+
+Mrs. Tremaine breathed a great sigh of relief when she found herself
+safely on the outside of the Morley mansion. She sat for awhile on a
+bench in the Square, and when she had in part recovered her equanimity,
+she went slowly homeward, pondering over the difficulties which present
+themselves to those who try to do good in secret.
+
+Yet she had done good; for when Natalie beheld this matron in all the
+pride and joy of approaching maternity, she saw in the spectacle a
+living denial of the frightful dogma which, if believed, must have
+turned the woman's triumph to despair. The orthodox lady served to
+demonstrate the fact that the upholders of hell do not believe in hell;
+for the conclusion to which Natalie had arrived was sound: The woman
+that believes in hell dare not bear a child.
+
+Leonard's continuing absence afforded time for contemplation of this
+discovery and its consequences; among others the gradual conviction
+which subjected Leonard, with thousands of others, to the accusation of
+maintaining palpable falsehood as the living truth. No other conclusion
+was possible in the face of the fact that humanity can judge only by the
+aid of human faculties, and that these must, perforce, pronounce eternal
+punishment incompatible with justice, and preordination to everlasting
+misery as impossible to a God of mercy. Her training made it difficult
+for her to understand the palliation of the offense of those who
+maintained the paradoxes which denied their actions. She was not aware
+that the minds of such as Leonard had, from infancy, been receptacles
+into which had been emptied all the follies bred from the meditations of
+those who profess the mission of being interpreters of Omniscience; nor
+could she fairly estimate the partisan rage which carried such men,
+engaged in controversy, even beyond their convictions. She did, however,
+gather some comprehension of these extenuating forces from the further
+researches offered by Leonard's table, on which were strewn numerous
+pamphlets referring to the late theological war. The tone of rancor
+which pervaded the effusions of the religious antagonists was repellant,
+but she was shrewd enough to see in so much sound and fury evidences of
+weakness; and when she came to the theologian who lauded the "beautiful
+faith" of that Christian father who demolished his pagan adversary with
+the words, "I believe, _because_ it is impossible," she closed the book,
+and thenceforth avoided further contemplation of the high mysteries of
+theology.
+
+She could not but condemn Leonard, though she would not dwell upon the
+thought. To her, as to Dr. Stanley, belief in the impossible was
+impossible, and, therefore, pretense of such belief dishonest; yet,
+since these pretenders were not otherwise dishonest, there must be some
+ground for their attitude, which to her must remain a mystery, but which
+ought to cause her to hesitate in judging. So, she would not blame
+Leonard; she perceived now, that her own conduct merited reproach. She
+was ignorant of her own cruelty and her own absurdity, and would have
+resented those terms as applied to her attitude; but she acknowledged
+with sorrow that she had not been kind, and for her unkindness she
+craved forgiveness.
+
+Very early one morning she started to walk to the cemetery, going by way
+of the shore, and glorying in the grandeur of the ocean and the breeze
+that came, health-laden, from its bosom. She stood and looked upon the
+broad expanse of blue, recalling the day when Leonard had plunged into
+the raging waters to rescue the boy. That effort had been in vain, as to
+its intended object, but had it never been made she would not be walking
+here a wife. She had loved him before, but not with a love that would
+have urged her to grant him the boon of kisses; but, fresh from that
+brave deed he was a hero, had taken the hero's meed from her lips, and
+in that act had sealed the mastery which his courage had won. She gazed
+long upon the waters, listening to the surge and noting the glint of the
+sun, tinting with rose the billows rolling toward her. She sighed and,
+pressing her lips together, turned her back upon the waves and hurried
+on. It was as though she had resolved not to see some fair vision
+suggested by the rose-tint in the feathery edging of the billows.
+
+When she entered the beautiful cemetery the birds were chirping in the
+trees, only their joyous trills breaking the silence of the city of the
+dead. She sat down beside the grave of her boy.
+
+And here, recalling her recent thoughts and her condemnation of others
+who were dishonest in their attitude toward God, she saw the need of
+honesty for herself in all things. If there were facts in her life which
+she had been willing to ignore, she must look them in the face and deal
+with them as best she might, being honest always. If, in marrying
+Leonard, she had striven to escape the longing for a love denied her,
+and in so doing had cheated her husband, she must admit her fault and
+resolve to make every reparation in her power. If she had chosen to
+believe that she had craved religion, and in her husband had seen its
+embodiment, while in truth she had craved an earthly love, and had in
+marriage weakly sought refuge from her shame, she must even admit her
+fault and do what might be in her power to avert its consequences. Not
+in the futile attempt to deny hearing to her conscience, to murder her
+reason, but in every wifely allegiance. Thus far she had wofully failed
+in such allegiance. Even before the last sad breach between her husband
+and herself she had allowed estrangement to come between them, and had
+so exclusively devoted herself to her child that Leonard had been
+secondary. It was true that she had not consciously intended this, but
+she had been willing that it be so. Her consciousness of wrong warmed
+her heart toward her absent husband, and filled it with longing to
+reconsecrate herself to him. He would surely come to-day! As she sped
+homeward she was more and more persuaded of it, and, finally, believed
+that on her arrival she would find him waiting for her. As she neared
+the house she trembled with expectation; she longed to clasp her arms
+about his neck and falter her prayer for pardon, and assure him of her
+love. There should be no shadows between them in future. She had dared
+to look truth in the face, and, lo! it was no longer truth. All the
+foolish, sinful longings of the past, persistent because she had refused
+to recognize them, had been dissipated by the light of day. The present
+moment was to live forever. Henceforth, Leonard, and only he, should
+dwell in her heart of hearts.
+
+In her agitation she fumbled at the door-lock, then desisted, for from
+the hallway she heard the firm step of a man coming to the door. Her
+heart beat wildly; another moment and she would be forgiven.
+
+The door was suddenly opened. With a glad cry Natalie spread wide her
+own, and in the same instant was clasped in the arms of Mark Claghorn.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+WHEN MANHOOD IS LOST WOMAN'S TIME IS COME.
+
+
+In the misery of awakening to a consciousness of existing facts, Leonard
+could see no possibility of extrication from the bog of degradation into
+which he had fallen. With excellent intentions on the part of his
+pastors and masters, he had been trained to dishonest depreciation of
+his own strength, and he was now without confidence or courage. His days
+had been without guile, and the unaccustomed aspect of guilt overwhelmed
+him with hopeless terror. The precepts instilled from infancy thundered
+direful threats, dwelling lingeringly on the curses of Omnipotence; and
+in the moment of the acquirement of the dread knowledge that he had been
+self-deceived, that the Grace of God had not been his, that he, like
+other doomed and defrauded sinners, had mistaken those "common
+operations of the spirit," that even non-elect may have, for the
+effectual call addressed only to the few chosen from eternity, and which
+to all others is a monstrous mockery--in the moment of this awful
+revelation he felt all the suffocating horror of that which he had
+taught as truth: that for the weak there is no Father, no path but the
+path of evil.
+
+The woman looked upon the exhibition of misery thus presented with
+compassion tinged with scorn, yet with bewilderment. She had never seen
+a sinner like this before; but instinctively she felt that when manhood
+is lost woman's time has come.
+
+"_Voyons, cheri_," she said, "what is it all about?" and she drew his
+head to her bosom.
+
+He grasped at the offered sympathy as a starving man may grasp a loaf.
+The picture he presented was not adorable, but there was truth in it,
+if, also, some unconscious comedy; and her compassion was not without
+sincerity, though his broken story was of less interest to her than the
+simplicity of the narrator. She felt that she had been fashioned fit
+for this man's needs; and while she soothed him, his spirits rose a
+little, and he experienced a sort of satisfaction that, since he had
+taken this direction, he had gone amazingly far. See, now, what Natalie
+had done!
+
+They rescued Berthe's clothes and left the boarding-house, and were soon
+quartered in a small French hotel, bathed and well dressed. The
+surroundings were cheerful; the lunch table, with its bright glassware
+and silver, white napery and bottle of champagne in its bucket of ice,
+was inviting; the woman was gay, yet still compassionate and tender.
+With the first glass of wine Leonard felt actually happy; and as he sat
+opposite the well-clad woman with the great dark eyes, now languid and
+inviting, now bright with challenge, and listened to the prattle, which
+women of her nation can make so engaging, he, looking back upon the past
+week, was enraptured by the contrast. Of such as she really was he had
+no perception; he could no more estimate her character than could the
+veriest college freshman, weary with knowledge of the world. Her
+brightness of intellect was apparent, and there was neither coarseness
+nor ignorance of amenities in her bearing. She had said to the mistress
+of the boarding-house that she was a "lady," and she fitted sufficiently
+the ordinary acceptation of a much-abused term. She told her story (with
+the essential suppressions and variations), and he saw in her one who
+had suffered from the injustice of the world. She admitted being in the
+last stress of poverty, and confessed to having suffered actual hunger,
+thanking him, with the first sheen of tears in her eyes, for rescuing
+her clothes from the clutches of the hawk landlady.
+
+All these confidences, sweetened by moderate draughts of champagne--for
+Berthe preached moderation, and economy as well--insensibly disposed the
+man to further confidences of his own, and she listened eagerly to the
+tale, of which she had heard disjointed fragments in his first outbreak
+of despair.
+
+"It is all plain, _cheri_" was her comment. "Mademoiselle--I mean your
+wife--never loved you."
+
+"I know that," was the gloomy answer.
+
+"Ah, but why not? You so beautiful a man, so good!" and she knelt beside
+him and put her arms about his neck.
+
+"So beautiful! That is a matter of taste. So good!" he sighed, but let
+his head droop on her shoulder all the same.
+
+"Any woman must love you," she murmured. "But one thing could hinder."
+
+"And that thing?"
+
+"That she first loved another," she whispered.
+
+He was silent.
+
+"We all knew it in France," she said.
+
+"The Marquise?" he asked huskily.
+
+"The Marquise, assuredly. Why, we ran away from her because of it."
+
+"Tell me all you know," he said, after awhile.
+
+The woman's heart fluttered; here were her tools. She could keep him,
+and she would. Kneeling thus beside him, her arms about him, her body
+close to his, his cheek against her own, he was hers. No woman should
+take him from her. Rights? Bah! Hers were the rights of conquest, and of
+the fierce demands which bade her hold what she had gained. There were
+no other rights.
+
+"She loved him always," she murmured. "It is all told in that." Yet she
+told much more; of how the Marquise had always suspected, of wanderings
+in Paris with no other chaperone than herself; on which occasions,
+knowing what was expected of her, and unwilling to spoil the pretty game
+she watched, she had discreetly remained as much as possible in the
+background. "He was generous and gave me presents--but, _ciel_! Why
+shouldn't he with a gold mine?" They had especially affected churches,
+and picture galleries where they could sit in secluded nooks, and where
+Natalie's attendant could easily lose herself temporarily. "The Marquise
+raved furiously," added the narrator, "but she would have raved more
+furiously still had she known all I knew."
+
+"She never loved me," faltered Leonard.
+
+"But I loved you the moment I saw you. It was hard to have you leave me
+after that kiss. Tell me it was hard for you."
+
+"It was hard; better had I never left you."
+
+"And now you never will. You have made me love you; and I,--I have made
+you love me; is it not so? Is it wicked? Ah, no; it is good, it is
+good."
+
+To him who heard the murmured words and was enveloped in the tenderness
+she shed upon him; who felt her lips upon his own, and who, in the
+contact, found sweet content--to him, this was a foretaste of the life
+that might be, if he had the courage to embrace it. He was like some
+worn and weary pilgrim in arid sands who, visioning an oasis, lies him
+down by a green brookside, rests in the fresh breezes, listens to the
+rippling waters, sees their sparkle and inhales the fragrance of the
+flowers, and so is lulled to fatal languor, unconscious that all is a
+mere mirage.
+
+To her he was no mere wayside victim, but in his resemblance to him
+whose picture she had held toward heaven in the church, a reminder of
+the happy days when first she had known love. She longed desperately to
+retain him, and though she feared the dark gulf of misery in which he
+had found her, with him she would have even faced it again, rather than
+safety with another; so that her cajolements had the grace of sincerity,
+though the parting, which he knew must come, remained constantly the
+dark background of the present. It may seem that to leave the woman
+required little heroism; that whatever charms she might possess for him,
+that those of dignity, of worthy citizenship, of respect, of all that
+even worldly men hold dear, would allure him with greater power. All of
+which is reasonable, and, no doubt, such considerations do often operate
+in cases where discreet sinners, having sinned in secret, quietly emerge
+from the bog of evil-doing, cleanse their garments and, animated by good
+resolutions, go forth among their fellows, keeping their own counsel;
+but these are sinners of experience. The innocent man, like the innocent
+woman, falls far when he falls; such men sacrifice present respect and
+hope for the future, choosing ruin; and while there are numerous roads
+to that goal, the most frequented is that one where woman roams.
+
+But whatever heroism may have been necessary, this man possessed it. He
+turned his face resolutely from the allurements of the present, and, if
+trembling, faced the future.
+
+"It cannot be otherwise," he said, falteringly. "I do not leave you to
+return to happiness. I might find that with you. I go because both for
+you and for me it is right. We may have years of life before us; let us
+use them for repentance. In this lies our only hope."
+
+"Do you know what my life must be?"
+
+"One of better deeds. It is not for me," he said, sorrowfully, "to try
+to win you to high thoughts. That would seem impious, and would inspire
+you with just contempt for me and for those teachings I have disgraced.
+But I urge you to consider these things. Seek counsel; I can give you
+the means; or, if you prefer, go to a priest of your own church."
+
+She smiled bitterly. Knowing his own deadly depression, he could read
+her thoughts; he implored her not to despair, pointing out that that
+which was a solemn obligation, her temporal welfare, would be surely
+fulfilled by him. "Our unholy union," he said, with sad simplicity,
+"entails upon me the duty of making due provision for you. This will be
+a matter for immediate attention; promise me to remain quietly here
+until you hear from me."
+
+And so it was arranged, he giving her money for present needs. He
+watched her while she packed his valise, touched by wifely attentions,
+the lack of which, he told himself, had long been a grievance, of which
+now he knew the cause. He looked about him, noting the embellishments
+which her taste and her training had enabled her to add to the room,
+even in the short period of their occupancy, and the sense of a
+justifying grievance grew stronger.
+
+"There's room for this," she said, holding up a bottle of champagne, the
+last of a series, and unused because she had insisted upon moderation.
+He watched her place it in the bag. He had resolved never again to drink
+wine, but he would not refuse what she gave him, denying herself.
+
+They said good-bye. He left her, promising soon to see her, and in his
+heart solemnly resolving that they should never meet again. The lie was
+but one more added to his catalogue of sins, and had been necessary. As
+to that provision for her needs, he would make it generously. He could
+not as yet see how details were to be arranged, but for the present
+there were other things to think of. A man cannot suddenly make the
+acquaintance of himself without paying some attention to the stranger.
+
+He remained a day longer in the city, and then, absolutely unable to
+bear solitude, and with a manful struggle to avoid returning to the
+beckoning comfort he had left, he started on the dreaded journey
+homeward.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+A BOTTLE OF CHAMPAGNE.
+
+
+As he left the train in the early morning and crossed the Square toward
+his house he was, notwithstanding a half-defiant carriage, assumed to
+hide the cringing of his heart, probably the most miserable man in
+Hampton. He sat down upon the bench where he had rested after his first
+meeting with Berthe and, recalling that meeting, remembered how he had
+striven to give a jaunty trend to his thoughts, and had tried to
+persuade himself that the kissing episode was but a venial misstep,
+having indeed little of dignity, but even less of sin. Behold, now, to
+what it had led him!--that deed in which he had actually gloried, seeing
+himself, because of it, somewhat more a man of the world than was
+suspected, with experiences concerning which honor bound him to secrecy
+as it did men of experience; wherefore he had despised the blabbers of
+his college days, who either kissed not at all, yet boasted of such
+kissing, or, displaying equal ingenuousness and greater meanness,
+bragged of actual kisses. He recalled all this with real sorrow, not
+unmingled with contempt for the callow youth who had sat here indulging
+in boyish fancies, the wickedness whereof was surpassed only by their
+shallowness. It was then, he thought, that his unconscious yet
+diabolical arts upon the woman, destined to be his victim, had
+commenced. Though his present misery was as great as he could bear and
+his penitence sincere, nevertheless, there was an underlying
+consciousness, and pride in the fact, of more than ordinary fascinating
+powers, in respect of women. She had loved him from the moment she had
+seen him, and had loved him to her own destruction! Though he regarded
+with horror that which he believed himself to have compassed, yet the
+underlying complacency was there. All these years she had been faithful
+to his memory. Alas for her weakness! alas for the fate which had made
+him, in respect to her, a villain! He truly repented,--was he not bowed
+to the ground in humiliation and sorrow for his sin? Yet, was he wholly
+responsible, he who had, in ignorance, exercised seductive powers,
+possessed in ignorance?
+
+The inner being of this man, of noble outward form, was not cast in
+heroic mould, such moulds being seldom used in the fashioning of our
+neighbors; yet he was no unusual product, being the inevitable result of
+various influences, for most of which he was not responsible. An
+idolized child, a boy of wondrous promise as of wondrous beauty, a youth
+completely filling all promises of boyhood, early called to the service
+of Heaven, and so, somewhat set apart and cherished with a care
+befitting a sacred vessel, to be guarded from every rude touch lest its
+perfection be endangered,--thus he had been fitted for the world. Every
+natural healthy instinct had been bent and distorted by the loving hands
+of ignorance, while equally natural impulses had been ignored as
+unwholesome weeds, which would find no place in a nature dedicated and
+cultivated for Heaven. He had been esteemed as somewhat higher than
+ordinary humanity, while human vices had been nourished in him so that
+they bore blossoms so fair to look upon that they were as virtues. His
+innate vanity had been so fostered that it had become the central
+product of his moral being, permeating every thought, mingled with every
+act. His most patent and engaging graces had been developed by this
+vice. His frankness, his amiability, his generosity, his mental
+aptitude, were all means for winning the esteem he craved, and had been
+employed, in fact, to that end. They were real virtues. He was in
+goodness all he seemed to be. The kindness of heart for which he was
+praised and loved, even this excellence aided in the nurture of that
+self-complacency which led him to ascribe the woman's undoing to his
+witchery, rather than to her willingness.
+
+As he raised his eyes and caught sight of his home, and knew that he
+must enter the house, the subtle consolation which had formed the
+undercurrent of his despondency was forgotten, or, perhaps, its utter
+worthlessness for the moment recognized. The whole horrible load of
+regret weighed again upon him, crushing his spirit. There was no comfort
+now in any phase of his reflections. He had gone forth from the home of
+his innocent boyhood, as of his worthy manhood, unhappy, indeed, but
+claiming and receiving the respect of all his fellows. Now, he must
+creep back, so vile a creature that he dreaded to meet the eyes even of
+his servants.
+
+As to his wife, though he had left her without good-bye, and though
+there had been estrangement between them, he knew that he must meet her
+face to face, and while he dreaded the meeting, still he longed for it
+and longed to throw himself upon his knees before her and confess. As to
+that which had estranged them, it seemed a trifle to him now. Let her
+have her will; if therein there was to be punishment for him, was he not
+willing to do penance all his days? As to those confidences made by
+Berthe, while he believed them, he believed only what he had been told.
+As to seriously thinking of actual guilt in connection with Natalie, she
+was too truly estimated by him, and he too truly innocent, still, to
+harbor base suspicions. But he knew that she had not loved him, and in
+the dismal oppression caused by his own misdeeds this conviction created
+a distinct and sharp pain, and yet it had its own alleviation. He, too,
+had something to forgive, and did forgive, even now, before forgiveness
+had been granted him. Yes, he would meet her face to face, and there
+should be repentance between them and, as each had done wrong, so each
+would do all that could be done in reparation, and if the sacrifice she
+had demanded of him be still required, he would make it.
+
+And thus, while Natalie, in the cemetery, had seen the way to
+reconciliation with her husband, and had recognized that she had wronged
+him, and in that recognition had found in her heart a greater love for
+him than she had known before, so he with similar thoughts, though more
+confusedly and with less honesty, though not consciously dishonest,
+slowly made his way toward the house. He entered by means of his
+latchkey, meeting nobody, and went at once to the library. It was still
+early: doubtless Natalie was in her room. He was not sorry for a
+respite.
+
+He was faint and felt the need of refreshment. No doubt, the maids were
+about, so he went toward the bell, then drew back, recognizing in his
+action his dread of meeting any occupant of the house. Then he
+remembered that in his valise was a small bottle of champagne. He was
+not sorry, now, for Berthe's foresight, and in his heart thanked her. He
+recalled how pleasantly this wine had affected him, how it had given him
+courage, and how his horrible depression had vanished under its
+influence. Notwithstanding his resolve to resume his old practice of
+abstinence in regard to wine, he was glad that he had this chance
+bottle, for he had never needed courage more than now. He wished he had
+some food, for he had eaten but little for many hours; the wine would
+serve until he had the courage to ask for food.
+
+While he was opening his bottle the front-door bell rang. The library,
+its doorway hung with heavy curtains, faced the entrance to the house.
+Leonard, peeping between the curtains, saw Mark Claghorn admitted and
+ushered by the servant into the drawing-room.
+
+The sight of Mark, whom he had supposed in Europe, aroused his anger. He
+hated Mark as one who had gained a love that should have been his own.
+Under the circumstances he was not sorry that his presence in the house
+was unknown. Mark, who was noted as an early riser, had probably ridden
+over from Stormpoint on some trifling errand, and, soon after Natalie
+appeared, would doubtless leave the house.
+
+And so he waited, thirstily quaffing the champagne and wishing he had a
+biscuit. He tried not to think of the visitor in the drawing-room, but
+found that effort vain, thinking of him, in fact, with fast-rising
+anger, until he was on the point of seeking the man to force a quarrel
+on him which should banish the intruder from the house forever.
+
+He was arrested in this intention by hearing Mark emerge from the
+drawing-room and walk quickly to the front door. Leonard peeped through
+the curtains and saw his wife, with her arms outspread, fall upon Mark's
+breast, and heard her cry aloud:
+
+"My darling, my darling, welcome home!" and with upturned face she drew
+Mark's downward, kissing his lips as she had never kissed the watcher.
+
+Who staggered backward, sinking into a chair, dazed as by a blow.
+
+Her face had been illumined, glowing with happiness. Her dancing eyes,
+her outspread arms, her lips upturned, her gladness unrestrained, so
+impatient in her longing that she could not wait for greater privacy
+than the hall--in these he had seen a woman never seen by him before.
+This was Mark's welcome home. What was his to be?
+
+Great tears streamed down his face; of wounded vanity, of love and trust
+betrayed, of growing fury. His moods followed fast one upon another. Now
+sunk in profounder depths of sorrow than any yet sounded, now raging
+with frantic lust for vengeance upon the woman and her lover.
+
+Even while chaotic fancies whirled in his brain he could hear the murmur
+of their talk, ecstatic dalliance which he would interrupt.
+
+Yes, he would disconcert their cooing, cover the pair with humiliation,
+eject the glib intruder and bring the woman to her knees.
+
+But he could not move. He was chained to his chair. A horrible
+fluttering of his heart made him gasp for breath, his head fell back,
+his face and lips were white. The want of food, the nervous depression,
+the rage and exhaustion, all intensified by the sharp and unaccustomed
+fillip of the wine, had done their work. At first it was fainting, then
+came slumber.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+SHE CRIED ALOUD SHE WAS A GUILTY CREATURE.
+
+
+For a moment Mark had yielded to the rapture of the first pure pressure
+of lips he had ever known. From the window he had seen Natalie advancing
+toward the house, and had involuntarily gone to meet her. The sight of
+her had quickened his blood, but if, for an instant, he had reveled in
+the bliss of the welcome she had granted him, almost in the same instant
+he recognized and regretted that he had dishonored her in accepting
+caresses not intended for him.
+
+He drew her somewhat hastily into the drawing-room. Before he could say
+a word she had recognized him.
+
+"Mark," she exclaimed, amazed, and then a rosy blush spread over her
+face.
+
+"I startled you," he said. "It was absurd in me, unpardonable."
+
+"I thought it was----" her voice faltered.
+
+"Leonard, of course. Now welcome me for myself," and he took her hand
+and shook it warmly, after a proper, cousinly fashion, perhaps sadly
+noting the contrast, but striving to shield her embarrassment.
+
+He succeeded, as far as appearances went. But both were conscious of
+emotion, though each strove gallantly to hide it.
+
+"I am so surprised," she faltered. "You must have made a remarkable
+passage. Your mother did not expect you yet. In fact, Paula----"
+
+"I took an earlier steamer than I had originally intended, and had a
+quick passage besides."
+
+"How glad they must have been at Stormpoint!"
+
+"They seemed so. I arrived last night."
+
+"I am sorry Leonard is not home yet. I expected him this morning. He has
+been in New York."
+
+"So the maid told me. Of course, I should not have disturbed you at
+this hour had I been aware of his absence. I rode over, and knowing that
+Leonard is, like myself, an early bird, thought I would say
+good-morning."
+
+"I am very glad you did, Mark."
+
+"Yet, it is always foolish to run outside of conventional grooves. The
+maid told me you were gone for a walk, and so I waited."
+
+"Which was right. I am glad you waited."
+
+Plainly she was uneasy and so, feeling rather foolish, he explained that
+in order to fulfil the duty of breakfasting at Stormpoint he must be
+going. Her suggestion that he remain and breakfast with her was made
+rather faintly. "Good-bye, Natalie," he said. "Remember me to Leonard.
+Next time I shall call in proper form."
+
+And so he rode away, watched a little while by her, who then went to her
+own now belated breakfast. She sat at the table, eating hardly at all,
+seemingly lost in thought. Then she went slowly upstairs to her own
+room.
+
+She sat down upon the bed, suddenly catching her breath, as one stifling
+a sob. Then she twitched her body with an impatient shake, like a
+naughty child. Then she rose quickly and began to rectify or complete
+various small duties, neglected by the maid, who had arranged the
+chamber while she had been out. Ornaments were to be lifted and dusted,
+pillows more carefully smoothed, chairs to be moved an inch forward then
+replaced. Mirrors to be wiped clear of invisible dust, but not, for some
+inscrutable reason, to be looked into; in short, pretended duty must be
+indulged in--a poor pretense, which died away as she sank into a chair
+and, with listless hands lying in her lap, permitted thought to have its
+way.
+
+Had she known him or not? Of course she had not known him. Not even when
+(here she blushed and her lips parted slightly)----She was angry at her
+impetuosity, honestly angry. It was silly, but she had no other reproach
+to make to herself. It had not been her fault, coming from the sunny
+street, that she had not recognized the man who had advanced so eagerly
+to meet her,--the last person she could have expected to see in her own
+house. It would be absurd to feel more than passing annoyance at such a
+contretemps. Only a morbid conscience could find reproach for an
+episode in which there was no fault, which naturally she regretted----
+
+No! She did _not_ regret. Had her heart not fluttered with joy every
+moment since it had happened? Was it true or was it not--she did not
+know, but, alas, she wished it true--that for one brief instant, ere he
+had released her, she had known him and had been happy? Happy! What a
+barren word was "happy."
+
+Her thoughts wandered far--farther than ever before. The secret casket
+in her heart, wherein heretofore they had been hidden, was opened, and
+they rushed forth, to roam in regions forbidden, yet so fair that her
+feeble protests were unheeded; and she smiled upon them, these bright
+children of fancy, wandering with them in the paradise where Love has
+made his home. She closed her eyes and strove to realize again the brief
+ecstasy of an hour ago. She knew--she must have known--in whose arms she
+had been enfolded. She wished it so; it must be so. Again she felt his
+beating heart against her own, his arms once more about her, his breast
+pressed close to hers. "Mark," she whispered, stretching forth her arms
+and pouting lips as one prepares for meeting other lips----
+
+The morning grew old, and she still sat thinking of many things. She
+knew that she loved the man that had left her, with a love that must be
+his, and his only, shared by no other. She had known it as she had that
+morning stood upon the strand, seeing in the fleeting rainbows of the
+spray pictures of a life that might have been, but which could never be.
+She had turned her back upon the vision, well knowing why she turned
+away. She had seen it again in the cemetery and had denied it, bidding
+it begone forever; and she had met it on the threshold of her home, no
+longer a vision, but a fact so rapturous and so mighty that she dared no
+longer deny the truth. She loved him; she had always loved him.
+
+She sat long, dreaming her pleasant dreams, which only slowly merged
+with the facts with which she was environed. Very gradually the full
+import of her thoughts came home to her, but it came surely, disclosing
+an abyss so evil and so deep that she was appalled, and sinking upon
+her knees she cried aloud that she was a guilty creature, and prayed
+fervently and long for aid to be that which she had only that morning
+resolved to be, a faithful wife in thought as in deed.
+
+At last she went downstairs. Entering the library, she discovered her
+husband.
+
+He still slept, the deep sleep of exhaustion. She watched him, noting
+the careworn face, the disheveled dress. To her he looked like a man who
+had passed through a crisis of illness, he was so changed.
+
+And now the regret and penitence for all the wrong she had done him
+pressed upon her as a heavy weight. She was his wife, yet had driven him
+from her side. She was his wife, yet had, within an hour, dreamed her
+dreams of love and happiness in which he had no share.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII.
+
+A GOLDEN BRIDGE ACROSS AN ABYSS OF SHAME.
+
+
+When Leonard awoke to find her bending over him, the anxiety in her eyes
+looked to him like fear. He had no perception of the fact that hours had
+passed since in the meeting in the hall he had seen the same eyes
+dancing with the light of joy, and had heard from the drawing-room the
+fond murmurs of forbidden love. In his first awakening the scene he had
+witnessed and the murmurs he had heard swayed before his eyes and
+sounded still in his ears. Fresh from dalliance with her lover, she
+might well tremble to find her husband here! With this thought
+uppermost, he staggered to his feet.
+
+She started back. He glared upon her with a gaze so furious that she was
+in truth afraid.
+
+For the burden of her guilty dream weighed heavily upon her, justifying
+the hatred in his eyes, a hatred born of the ascription of all his woes
+to her, and while she saw abhorrence, the suffering he had endured was
+no less plainly written in his haggard face, accusing her even as she
+accused herself. Her sins against this man, her husband, the father of
+her dead child, crushed her with the burden of the humiliation born of
+them.
+
+"My husband!" In her self-abasement she sank upon her knees. The action
+was instinctive in her of Gallic training; to Leonard, bred to less
+dramatic display of emotion, it was proof of guilt far deeper than he
+had until now suspected.
+
+"Get up," he said harshly, and taking her by the arm he led her to the
+doorway, pushing her from the room and, with unconscious violence,
+almost throwing her against the opposite wall. He returned to the room
+and rang the bell. His rudeness had given him a sense of mastery in his
+own house, and had dissipated his dread of meeting the servants. He
+asked the maid if breakfast would soon be ready, and was surprised to
+learn that it was long past noon.
+
+Ordering a meal to be prepared he went upstairs, boldly and with
+something not unlike a swagger in the perception that there were sinners
+as bad as he, and having bathed, being clothed in fresh garments, and
+having eaten almost ravenously, he felt, he said to himself, like a new
+man.
+
+Which indeed he was, if new thoughts make a new man. That dreadful load
+of regret for his own misdeeds had been lifted from his shoulders. His
+violence toward his wife had somewhat shocked himself, and while
+attending to his physical needs, he had had time to regret his hasty
+outbreak; and this fact led him to resolve to consider the situation
+calmly and judicially.
+
+To know all is, if the French adage be true, to pardon all, which is
+perhaps the reason why we find it easier to forgive our own sins than
+those of others. We presumably know what motives actuated us in
+evil-doing, and being aware of the strength of the force that drove us,
+we are conscious of the fact that had the incentive to sin been less
+powerful than our rectitude we would not have been guilty. In other
+words, we sin because we can't help sinning, a logical and soothing
+conclusion, converting our wickedness into misfortune and rendering us
+objects of self-commiseration rather than of self-condemnation.
+
+But in that contemplation of the iniquity of others, to which
+circumstances sometimes impel us, and which is always so painful, the
+strength of temptation which we have not personally experienced is less
+obvious, while at the same time the sense of our own rectitude is
+naturally in the ascendant. And as, in such contemplation, our judgment
+is inevitably swayed by our morality in its sternest mood, especially if
+the crimes under consideration have wronged ourselves, our indignation
+is naturally fervent. It is also true that our vision is clarified, our
+memory sharpened, and we recall incidents, now corroborative of guilt,
+though heretofore unremarked, or regarded as innocent.
+
+Leonard recalled so many of such incidents that at last nearly every
+remembered act of his wife assumed a semblance of guilt. There were
+those visits to churches mentioned by Berthe, the woman who truly loved
+him, and who, doubtless, had minimized the truth to spare him, and the
+same habit had been indulged in after marriage. It was not to pray that
+she went to the churches; he remembered that she had herself said so.
+No; it was to dream of the old unhallowed meetings in the hallowed
+precincts. To dream! Why not to meet her lover? During much of their
+sojourn in Paris, Mark had been supposed to be in London--what was a
+passage between London and Paris to Mark? He remembered now that in
+Natalie's bearing toward himself there had always been a vague and
+undescribable something which he could not define, but which he had
+felt. It was easy now to fix the date of the commencement of this
+aloofness (he had found this word for it); it had been during the visit
+in Paris. He recalled a thousand instances with which to torture his
+mind and prove his suspicions true. The aloofness had increased; after
+the birth of the child it had even been noticed by others--and then as a
+blow came the conviction that the inferences she had drawn from his
+belief in hell and her consequent resolve to live a celibate life were
+all pretense, a ghastly role played in obedience to her lover's command.
+
+As this hideous thought took possession of him all semblance of judicial
+summing up was put aside. He laid his head between his hands and wept
+aloud in his great misery. He had loved her; she had been the light of
+his life. He remembered her now (and the vision he recalled was
+strangely clear and vivid) as she had stood at the entrance to the cave
+where dwelt the echo of Forellenbach; she laughing a little at the
+strange American boy who thought wine-drinking an evil; he standing
+within the cave, half shy, half proud, and longing to wake the echoes
+with the pretty name, on that day first heard by him. Yes; he had loved
+her then and always, while she,--and he groaned and his hot tears fell
+fast as he remembered that Berthe had said--Berthe who knew--that his
+wife had never loved him!
+
+The thoughts that racked him were base and unworthy, but he believed
+them. It may be that at the bottom of his heart he wished to believe,
+even while the belief rent him with actual anguish. He needed
+justification for his own sins, and true to his human nature, found it
+where he could. Again, perhaps dim as yet, but only dim because he
+closed his eyes, was the desire to be driven to a step which he had
+hardly dared contemplate, which he had refused to contemplate when it
+had been suggested to him, but toward which now he was making his way as
+certainly as he who, lost in the gloom of some dark forest, makes his
+way toward a rift of light.
+
+He took Mrs. Joe's cheque from his pocket and looked at it. He recalled
+a suggestion of Berthe that they cash it and go to France together. The
+suggestion had startled, yet had fascinated him. He had put it aside.
+Now its fascination returned with tenfold power--to put the ocean
+between him and the past; to be a denizen of that land where man can be
+free; to be one of those who, being damned, refuse to accept misery in
+this life as well--he had recognized it then as a picture painted by the
+devil; it now assumed a worthier aspect. There would be boldness in such
+a step, a certain picturesqueness as well, and a dramatic ending to the
+play in which he had enacted the role of dupe. The curtain would be rung
+down upon a scene not contemplated by the authors of the drama--a scene
+in which he alone would retain some dignity, to the discomfiture of
+those whose puppet he had been.
+
+No thought of financial dishonesty was in his mind. The peculiar
+fascination in the cheque was the facility it afforded for complete and
+sudden rupture of every tie. He could secure the maker of the cheque
+against loss; that could be done at his leisure; meanwhile, there it
+lay, a golden bridge for passage across an abyss of shame, beyond which
+lay a region of beauty and content.
+
+Yet even while he mused, finding a balm for wounded pride and love
+betrayed in visions, of which the central figure was the woman who had
+parted from him in despair, and whose pleading eyes even now besought
+him, while his own lonely heart called out to her--even now, when
+despair on the one hand, and passion on the other, strove for mastery,
+even now he turned from the devil's beckoning finger, resolving to be
+just.
+
+Yes; the accused should have a hearing. He would confront his wife and
+demand an explanation of that meeting in the hall. She was probably
+aware that he had witnessed it, for she had crouched in fear before him
+when she had unexpectedly found him in the library. If she had not known
+of his presence he would inform her and warily watch her, and carefully
+weigh whatever she had to offer in explanation. He would not be
+deceived, but she should meet the accusation face to face, himself
+accuser, judge and witness.
+
+He looked at his watch. It was after nine o'clock. Natalie could hardly
+be in bed. He would see her now in her own room, away from the chance of
+eavesdropping servants.
+
+He prepared to put his intention into effect and was already in the
+hall, when a maid handed him a sealed note.
+
+He read the letter. It commenced abruptly, without address:
+
+     "Your violence has so agitated me that it has only been after a
+     long struggle that I have brought myself to write you. But I
+     persuade myself, as indeed I must, that you were unconscious of
+     your harshness. I will not, therefore, offer you my forgiveness
+     for an offense which was unintentional. But I think it better
+     that we do not meet immediately. I am the more urgent in this
+     because I wish your spirit to be soothed and your anger against
+     me to be mitigated, so that you shall hear me calmly. For, I
+     have much to say to you--a sad confession to make which may be
+     even harder for you to bear than the sorrow you have already
+     borne. But I have hope that if you will hear it calmly you will
+     recognize that if I did not love you I could not open my heart
+     to you, as I shall do. My husband, I have not been that which I
+     so long to be in future, a true wife to you. But I know, for I
+     know your goodness of heart, that when you have heard all you
+     will pardon all, and that our future shall be cloudless; that
+     your love shall help me to be that which I have failed in
+     being--your faithful wife."
+
+No need now, having read this confession, to consider his future course.
+It was fixed. He looked at his watch. The train left at midnight. He
+would write the necessary answer to the letter at once.
+
+He wrote swiftly and without pause. His brain had never been clearer,
+his heart never lighter.
+
+A few minutes before midnight he quietly left the house. When he had
+crossed the street to the Square he looked back at the only home he had
+ever known. For good or for evil he was about to leave it, never to
+return the husband of the woman who watched in the dimly lighted
+chamber. A sob shook him as he turned from the light toward the
+darkness.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+
+THE RUINS OF HER AIR-CASTLE LAY AROUND HER.
+
+
+Father Cameril laid down the "Life of St. Dunstan" and sighed. "He was
+strong, he was faithful," muttered the good Father. "Alas!" and he
+sighed again.
+
+He took a photograph from his pocket and gazed long upon the pictured
+features. "Dr. Hicks did it," he murmured. Then he replaced the
+photograph and went forth, going toward the sea, until at last, by many
+a devious way, he came into the grounds of Stormpoint, and there, by
+Eliphalet's Tomb, he saw a woman. "'Tis fate," he muttered. The woman
+turned; Father Cameril started. He was face to face with Natalie.
+
+He stammered awkwardly, being wholly taken by surprise, that he had
+thought she was Miss Lynford; then, after some conventional references
+to the weather, he escaped. Natalie watched him as he walked away, then
+fell into bitter musings, in which he had no part.
+
+Two years had passed since Leonard's flight. With the fall of her hero,
+the light of the life of Miss Claghorn had been extinguished, and
+though, with grim courage, she had striven to bear the heavy hand of the
+Lord, laid thus upon the House of Claghorn, the knowledge that another
+of the race, the brightest and the best, was doomed, was too heavy a
+burden. Other Claghorns would be born and would live their little day,
+but for whom could hope be cherished after such a fall as this? She
+passed from life sure of her own salvation, but with the knowledge that
+the elect race was no more to be reckoned as of the favored minority.
+She refused to leave any message for Leonard; since the Lord had closed
+the gates of glory upon him, it was for her to close her heart. She
+charged her estate with a liberal annuity for Tabitha Cone, leaving her
+fortune, otherwise unincumbered, to Natalie, who, with Tabitha,
+continued to reside at the White House.
+
+A further untoward result of the catastrophe was the derangement of the
+political plans of Mrs. Joe. The use of her cheque, given to Leonard, as
+trustee, his unfulfilled promise of a large donation from an anonymous
+lady (who could be no other than the lady of Stormpoint), his curt
+resignation sent to the Seminary authorities from New York, the
+separation from his wife, her seclusion, the crushing grief of Miss
+Claghorn, the perturbation of Mrs. Joe, shared by Mark--these were all
+parts of a puzzle eagerly put together, and so far successfully, that
+the fact of the misuse of the cheque was established, at least to the
+satisfaction of the multitude. And this involved an explanation from
+Mrs. Joe, and the making known of her change of mind in respect of the
+donation, which again involved some reflection upon the god and the
+Confession revered by the Seminary, wherefrom was emitted a spark of
+resentment, not allayed by Mark's openly expressed indignation with
+those who professed to discover something parlous with regard to the
+change of mind of his mother, in respect to the once-intended bounty.
+The upshot of all this confusion was the lassitude, not to say, disgust,
+evinced by Mark for the political prospects held out by Hampton, and
+Mrs. Joe's recognition of the need of acting upon the shrewd advice of
+Mr. Hacket, which was to "lie low till the pot stopped boiling," a
+consummation not fervently hoped for by the adviser.
+
+With eyes fixed upon where the sun, a fiery ball, fast sank in the
+distant waters, Natalie, standing where Father Cameril had left her,
+recalled the days of her girlhood and their dreams. Her life, short as
+it had been as yet, had been full of trouble. Were all lives thus? Her
+glance fell upon the tomb; she wondered if the man at rest these two
+centuries and more had in death resolved the deep mystery of living; or
+was he, in fact, not yet at rest, but wandering still in other spheres,
+the toy of a destiny he could neither shape nor fathom? She recalled the
+day upon which she had seen the handsome American boy in the Odenwald,
+and she thought of the ruin of his life with unutterable sadness. She
+remembered how she had prattled with her father as the two dusty
+travelers had entered the garden, and she recalled her bright visions
+of the days to come. The days were here! The crumbling ruins of her
+air-castles lay about her, and in the great upheaval that had caused
+their fall a life had been wrecked. She looked out upon the waters,
+hearing the ceaseless moan of the surge, and remembered how the kindly
+fury of the waves had striven to rescue that life from shame and
+degradation. Better, ah! how much better, had Leonard never returned
+from that desperate plunge, but had gone a hero to whatever lay beyond!
+
+She remembered the day--it was not a day to be forgotten--that she had
+taken the early walk to the cemetery; and how, as she had then looked
+out upon the waves, a truth that during all the days of her wedded life
+had lain at the bottom of her heart, had confronted her unbidden,
+demanding recognition. She had refused to see it, until in the awakening
+that had come to her in the cemetery she had, with high resolve,
+determined to defy it and make of it a lie--and within an hour had
+forgotten her resolution, and had dreamed her dreams which had their
+birth in the pressure of lips to which she had no right. On the morrow
+of that darkest day of her life she had found her husband's letter to
+herself, a letter whose words were burned in upon her memory: "Natalie,
+in your heart you never loved me." He had added more, the justification
+of the wretched confession, now defiant, now maudlin, which followed;
+much of it sadly false; but she remembered it all, and the true text of
+his miserable story stood out before her as though lettered in the air.
+The words condemned her. It was not true, and she made a gesture as
+though repelling an accusation--it was not true that in the truth of
+Leonard's words lay the underlying motive of the course of life she had
+resolved upon. She denied this in her thoughts with almost frantic
+vehemence; yet, urgent in her wish to find palliation for her husband's
+sin, and seeing with clear vision the folly of the frightful dogma which
+she now knew that in very truth he could not have believed, but which,
+if believed, must of her own wrong have made a virtue, she grew
+confused, and could find but one utterance to express the truth--"I have
+sinned."
+
+She drew from the bosom of her dress a letter which she had received
+but a few hours before. It was from Leonard, written from New York, and
+repeating that accusation which she confessed as true. In the letter the
+writer expressed his surprise that he had not found, on his return to
+America, that she had taken steps to rid herself of ties which must be
+hateful to her. This, he claimed, was an added injury to him, since it
+prevented the course which his conscience required, and which he was in
+honor bound to take for the sake of one who had loved him sufficiently
+to sacrifice herself for him (meaning, though Natalie was ignorant of
+the fact, Mademoiselle Berthe). He had added that if, within a given
+time, his wife did not avail herself of the legal right to secure her
+freedom, he would, actuated by the high considerations suggested, be
+compelled to take measures to satisfy his conscience and his sense of
+honor. And he concluded the epistle by setting forth with sufficient
+distinctness the fact, that the law would recognize the validity of the
+grounds on which he would, if it became necessary, base his application
+for divorce.
+
+Heretofore she had resented the urgency of every friend (except one who
+refrained from advice) to take the step to which she saw now she would
+be driven. Mark alone had been silent, and her heart had often
+fluttered, knowing his reason. But she had not dwelt upon a thought upon
+which she knew she must not linger; rather had she prayed that Leonard
+might return, and she be enabled to carry out the resolve she had so
+often made, and in which she had so often failed, to be in all things a
+true wife; thus earning the forgiveness which she craved by according
+that which was due from her. Perhaps she had persuaded herself that such
+a course would be possible--even so--she knew that in the letter she
+held in her hand, she saw not the insult to herself, not the base
+attitude of its writer, but the dawning of another day, and the promise
+of a happiness which hitherto she had not dared contemplate, and which
+she tried hard not to contemplate now.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX.
+
+VOIDABLE VOWS OF TURKS (AND OTHERS).
+
+
+When Father Cameril had found Natalie at Eliphalet's tomb, expecting to
+find Paula, he had received a greater shock than the incident would seem
+to have required.
+
+He had said to himself it was Fate; but had found that it was not fate
+that determined a step which he desired to be compelled to take.
+
+That vow of celibacy had been made in ignorance. He was sure, having
+examined the authorities closely as to this, that a vow taken in
+ignorance was not binding. Turks were in the habit of vowing enmity to
+the truth, yet could a Turk do a more praiseworthy deed than break such
+a vow? He had supposed that celibacy was a good things for priests. He
+had been wrong. It was a very bad thing. Ought he to continue a wrong
+course in deference to a vow taken under a misconception? The underlying
+motive of the vow was the desire to live worthily; since life lived in
+accordance therewith would be passed less worthily than in opposition to
+it, the only honest course was to disregard the vow. So argued Father
+Cameril, unaided by fate, and hence, compelled to fall back on logic.
+
+But fate was to be more propitious than he had feared. Seated on a rock
+in a distant portion of the grounds, gazing out upon the setting sun, he
+came upon Paula.
+
+He took the hand she offered and which, as had lately been the case,
+lingered a little within his own. Then he sat down beside her.
+
+"How beautiful it is," she observed.
+
+"Paula," he said, "I love you. Will you be my wife?"
+
+"Oh!" exclaimed Paula.
+
+Perhaps it was not very reassuring. But it was not a refusal. Her face
+was rosier than he had ever seen it. Her heart was beating wildly.
+
+"I wanted to be a nun," she faltered.
+
+"I know it," he replied; "and I----"
+
+"Vowed celibacy."
+
+"It is true," he admitted.
+
+And then they sat and looked at where the sun had been.
+
+After awhile Paula arose and said she must go to the house.
+
+He offered his hand.
+
+"May I kiss you?" he said, in a low tone, his face very pale.
+
+"Father Cameril!"
+
+He hung his head. "You despise me," he said, after awhile. "You are
+right. I despise myself. It is very hard."
+
+"I don't despise you; and you are not to despise yourself," she
+stammered. "You perplex and confuse me. You astonish me."
+
+"I knew I would," he answered hopelessly. "It is very natural. I wish I
+had not been born."
+
+"I beg you not to say dreadful things, not to have dreadful thoughts,"
+she exclaimed.
+
+"But I can't help them. If you knew how awful they are sometimes. Dr.
+Hicks did it, Paula."
+
+"Don't let us talk of it."
+
+"Let us think about it."
+
+"I couldn't."
+
+"Don't you love me?"
+
+"I love everybody. You, and everybody."
+
+"Yes, you are a saint. I am not. I only love you. I only think of you.
+Morning, noon and night. At Mass; everywhere----"
+
+"Do you, really?" she interrupted.
+
+"I do, really."
+
+She looked at him curiously. It was very nice, indeed, to know that a
+good man was in the habit of thinking of her so continuously. But----
+
+"You should not think of me in church," she said.
+
+"Of course not. I wouldn't if you were my wife. As it is, you creep into
+all my thoughts. You are in the prayer-book, in the Bible, in the Life
+of St. Dunstan, and of St. Thomas (of Canterbury), too. You are
+everywhere."
+
+"Oh!" said Paula again. This was love indeed.
+
+"But your vow?"
+
+"I can explain that. Vowing under a misconception is not binding. That
+was the way I vowed."
+
+"On purpose?" she asked, horrified.
+
+"Oh, no. I thought I was doing right."
+
+"Perhaps you were," she said. "If you were, this must be wrong."
+
+"I have examined my own heart closely, very closely."
+
+"Have you been to confession?"
+
+"To whom can I go? The Bishop would not hear me. He is benighted----"
+
+"There's your friend, Father Gordon."
+
+"Oh, Paula, he's only twenty-three."
+
+"But he's a priest."
+
+"But _he's_ under a vow. How can he understand?"
+
+A rapid footstep was heard. "There's Mark!" exclaimed Paula.
+
+Father Cameril tripped quickly away. "You here!" exclaimed Mark, as he
+came upon Paula. "Isn't it dinner time?"
+
+"It must be," she said, slipping her hand into the arm he offered.
+
+"It was Father Cameril, Mark," she said, after a pause.
+
+"Of course," he replied.
+
+"Why, of course?" she asked, with slow utterance.
+
+He looked down into her face a little quizzically. "Is it not of
+course?" he asked.
+
+"I--don't--think so," she answered slowly.
+
+"Paula!" He stood confronting her suddenly.
+
+"Well, Mark?"
+
+He laughed, yet looked at her rather seriously. "I thought you were
+going to be a nun?"
+
+"I am; do you object?"
+
+"I shall be sorry to see it. But----"
+
+"But what?"
+
+"There are other things I would regret more."
+
+She looked into his face. It was a quick, questioning glance, but long
+enough for him to note her beauty. They went on to the house in silence,
+but Paula's heart fluttered.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XL.
+
+HER FACE WAS THE MIRROR OF HER PLEASANT DREAMS.
+
+
+In Hampton Cemetery there stands, and will stand for the sympathetic
+admiration of future ages, an imposing monument, which apprises him who
+meditates among the tombs that it was "Erected to the Memory of Jeremiah
+Morley, by his Sorrowing Widow." At the date of the construction of this
+expensive evidence of grief, the cost whereof had been provided by
+testamentary direction--for the late Jeremiah had not been the man to
+stake a testimonial to his worth upon anything less binding--the
+stone-cutter, as one versed in the prevailing fashion of monumental
+inscriptions, had suggested the conventional reference to the usual
+"Hope of a Joyful Resurrection"; but the widow, her conscience already
+strained by the legend agreed upon, had objected. Yet the inscription
+which strained her conscience had the merit of truth; for the man
+beneath the stone had left her sorrowing, as she had sorrowed nearly
+every day since she had been pronounced his wife; but, being strictly
+Hamptonian in her views, her long intimacy with the deceased had
+rendered her incredulous of his joyous resurrection.
+
+Years before the erection of the monument, while Easthampton was still a
+port known to mariners, the warehouses since pulled down by Mrs. Joe
+having hardly commenced to rot, a certain Jerry Morley who, so far as he
+or anybody else knew, had no legitimate right to name or existence, had
+sailed from the harbor in the capacity of third mate of the barque
+"Griselda," a trim vessel manned by a crew of blackguards, not one of
+whom could approach the mate either in hardihood or in villainy. At that
+time Mate Jerry had been scarcely more than a boy, ragged, unkempt and
+fierce-eyed; when he returned, which he did by stage (for the barque had
+disappeared from the ken of man), he was a smooth-shaven, portly
+gentleman, hard and domineering; but strict in his walk (to all
+appearance), and rich. The voice of detraction is never absolutely
+silent, and though Mr. Morley possessed all the ingredients which go to
+the making of a "Prominent Citizen," and played that role successfully
+for many years; yet occasional whispers were heard as to mutiny, murder,
+seizure of the "Griselda," and a subsequent career as a slaver;
+whispers, confined mostly to the ancient mariners who smoked and basked
+about the decaying docks of Easthampton, and which, in due time, were
+heard no more. Mr. Morley purchased a fine residence in Hampton, was
+munificent to the Seminary, married the fair daughter of a prominent
+theologian, and, in short, appeared to the eyes of the world as a clean,
+pompous, very wealthy and highly respected citizen and church member.
+Few beside his wife knew that, in fact, he was a brute, given over to
+secret vices. He had possessed a brain incapable of either excitation or
+ache. Never sober, no man had ever seen him (to the observer's
+knowledge) drunk. Few suspected his secret indulgence, but at the age of
+sixty, liquor, aided by other sly excesses known only to himself, struck
+him down, as a bullet might have done, relieving a once rarely beautiful
+woman of a great load, and granting her a few years of comfort as a
+set-off against many years of hidden misery.
+
+From this grandfather Leonard had inherited more than one unsuspected
+trait, but not the iron constitution which had succumbed only after
+years of abuse. Berthe still had her adorable one, but her adoration was
+gone; her man had become an object of compassionate disgust. The
+brilliant theologian was a sot.
+
+His fall had been from so great a height to so low a depth, that in his
+own eyes his ruin was accomplished before his case was hopeless. He was
+not hurried to his doom by late awakened appetites alone; he had hardly
+abandoned his home before regret, if not repentance, became a burden too
+heavy for endurance. The mournful echoes of his days of virtue, the
+visions of his past of honor, were ever in his ears and before his eyes.
+Remorse, the hell of sinners, was ever present; and from its constant
+pangs was no relief except in plunging deeper into sin, inviting
+greater horrors, and ever beckoned by them. To such miseries were added
+the fear of that unending life beyond the grave; the life of torment,
+which all his days he had been taught to contemplate as the doom of
+souls abandoned by their Maker. The knowledge that he was one of those
+"passed by" and left for the fires of hell--this knowledge hourly
+increased the anguish of his spirit. Who among men shall too hardly
+judge a ruined fellow-creature, abandoned by his God, who in debauchery
+can find forgetfulness; or who, in the hazy mists of drunkenness alone,
+can see some rays to cheer the gloom of ruin?
+
+They had at first gone to Paris, and there he had plunged into
+dissipation with an ardor that had startled and angered his companion,
+whose good sense had been revolted. True, she had shown him the way,
+recognizing his need of distraction; but she had not counted on reckless
+excess, and had at first welcomed the change when he showed a
+disposition to concentrate his attention upon liquor alone. She was to
+learn that this slavery was the most debasing of all.
+
+The woman had loved her victim in her own way, and for awhile she
+honestly strove to raise him from the foul abyss in which he seemed
+doomed to settle, but her efforts had been vain. She had long been
+possessed of the common purse, and though her prudence had husbanded the
+proceeds of Mrs. Joe's cheque, she saw the necessity of reasonable
+economy; so she got her man to London, where he, by this time, exhausted
+from dissipation, was content to live frugally, so long as his decanter
+of gin was kept supplied. The woman often gazed furtively at him, and
+was troubled. She commenced to consider the future. "Leonard," she said
+one day, "you ought to marry me."
+
+He was neither startled nor repelled. "It would be the first step in the
+right direction," he answered. "Perhaps then I could overcome the
+craving for drink." She was touched by the hope which for one moment
+gleamed in his dull eyes. It aroused an answering hope in her bosom. Ah!
+If it could be! If she could become his lawful wife, an honest woman;
+and he the man he had been before she had led him to ruin! The passing
+vision of purer days lured both.
+
+A nobler desire than mere acquisitiveness was awakened in her. She knew
+that probably no such marriage would be legal; it might even be
+dangerous. But, it would bind him to her so that there could be no
+escape. And so the matter came to be discussed between the two. Both
+were aware of the possible criminality of the act, though both hoped
+that Leonard's wife had procured a divorce; but, notwithstanding some
+misgiving, the marriage was finally accomplished. Berthe had her own
+reasons for not waiting until they could revisit America; and perhaps in
+the loneliness of his wrecked life, Leonard's object was like the
+woman's, to bind her to himself with hooks of steel. Perhaps it was but
+the result of influence of a stronger will upon a fast decaying mind.
+
+Thus it had come about that the two had returned to America, and, on
+their arrival, had concocted the letter to Natalie, by whom it had been
+submitted to Mr. Ellis Winter. That gentleman advised that Natalie take
+up her residence in New York, and he engaged to notify Leonard that his
+demand for divorce would be accorded, as soon as the needful legal
+requisites could be complied with. Natalie was to make her application
+on the ground of abandonment, and to refuse to ask for alimony.
+
+And now, alone with Tabitha in a big hotel, without occupation, except
+such as was afforded by recollections which could not be other than
+bitter; in the gloom of the days and the miserable object of her present
+existence, Natalie allowed herself to see the rays of hope illumining a
+future upon which she looked, shyly, and with a sense of guilt. Yet who
+would not contemplate the alluring tint of fruit as yet forbidden, but
+ripening for us before our eyes?
+
+During this period of isolation she saw Mark once, his visit having the
+ostensible excuse of business. Leonard had, by the hand of his legal
+adviser, written to Mrs. Joe, suggesting that she purchase the Morley
+mansion, so that out of the proceeds of the sale he could repay his
+debt. While the lady would have been as well content that the debt
+remain unpaid, it was believed by all who still hoped that Leonard might
+be won back to respectability, that the suggestion was a good one. To
+carry it into effect the consent of Natalie was, of course, necessary,
+and also that the transfer be effected before the institution of divorce
+proceedings. The consent was immediately given.
+
+"And, Mark," said Natalie, as she handed him the deed, "if you see
+Leonard, say to him that I hope for his forgiveness."
+
+"His forgiveness!"
+
+"Ah, Mark! I wronged him; I ought never----"
+
+He knew what was on her lips, but which she could not say to him--that
+she ought never to have married Leonard. He took her hand and drew her,
+unresisting, toward himself; her head drooped upon his shoulder. They
+stood thus, for a moment, and then he left her. Words of love remained
+unspoken, but the heart of each was full of that which was unsaid.
+
+There was a long and dreary interval, but at length came the day when
+Natalie was made free. She learned the fact in the afternoon, but
+concealed it from Tabitha. That evening she was melancholy, and Tabitha
+essayed in vain to cheer her; and so the next day passed. But the day
+after that Tabitha noticed a change; a tremulous fluttering, some
+tendency to tears, but more to smiles. And Tabitha discovered that she
+was being petted. She must have a drive--and had it; special delicacies
+at luncheon were ordered for her delectation, including a share of a
+pint of champagne, which Tabitha averred was sinful, though she sinned
+with satisfaction. A beautiful gold watch was given her to replace the
+fat-faced silver bulb, precious in Miss Cone's eyes as once the property
+of the long-drowned mariner, but which of late years had acquired the
+eccentric characteristics of the famous time-piece of the elder Weller;
+and at last when the time came to say "good-night," Tabitha must be
+kissed and hugged. But the last proceeding was too much for the maiden's
+discretion. "What is it?" she asked.
+
+"Oh, Tabby, I'm so happy." And then, ashamed, and afraid of having said
+too much, Natalie escaped to her own room.
+
+And there read again the letter which she had received that morning, and
+which she had furtively read many times during the day. She knew it by
+heart, but she liked to read the words written by her lover's hand.
+
+     "Dear Natalie--The decree is granted. The words, 'I love you'
+     have been on my lips so long, that they must find utterance. I
+     repeat them, if not with lips, yet in my heart every moment of
+     the day. Write or telegraph me the date of your arrival at the
+     White House. I would rather have a letter; in a letter you can
+     say that you love me. Shall it be a letter?
+
+     "MARK."
+
+To this she had answered by telegraph: "I write to-night." He was in
+Philadelphia, and until the evening of the following day she would be
+unable to leave for home. He would receive her letter in time to get to
+Stormpoint soon after her arrival in Easthampton. He desired a letter;
+he should have a letter.
+
+Yet it was hard to write. It had been easy to whisper to herself such
+phrases as "Mark, dear Mark, I love you, I love you"; but it was less
+easy to set those words down on paper, though there was a joy in it,
+too. The difficulty of writing them vanished when they were for her own
+eye only, not to be mailed. And so she scribbled over sheet after sheet
+of paper: "Mark, Dear Mark, My Love, My Own, My Lover"--such words and
+many others she wrote, blushing, smiling; at times not seeing what she
+wrote for the tears in her eyes. At last she roused herself from this
+foolish play and wrote a proper letter.
+
+     "Dear Mark--How good you have always been! I shall arrive home
+     on Saturday morning. I long to see you. Dear Mark, I love you."
+
+The last phrase was hurriedly written and had required resolution, but
+she was happier for having written it. She sealed the letter that she
+might not be tempted in the morning to substitute another. Then she went
+to bed, and all the night through her face was the mirror of her
+pleasant dreams. No shadow of the future was upon her as she slept
+smiling.
+
+And awoke with the smile upon her face, and in a low voice sang while
+dressing. Her toilet concluded, she took her letter from the table,
+kissed it shyly, and placed it in her bosom. She would mail it as she
+went downstairs.
+
+A knock at her door and the announcement of a visitor--a lady who had
+business of importance. Natalie ordered that the lady be shown into her
+sitting-room.
+
+On entering the sitting-room she found Berthe.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLI.
+
+HER GUILTY CONSCIENCE CRIED: "BEHOLD YOUR HANDIWORK."
+
+
+Natalie saw all things through the halo of the rosy hopes that now
+encompassed her. "Berthe!" she exclaimed, both hands extended in
+welcome, "I thought you had gone to France. Mrs. Leon told me so--but,
+how is this? You look pale and ill?"
+
+Pale and ill she was, but no illness would have deterred her from making
+the appeal she had come to make.
+
+Since his return to America, Leonard had indulged in drink more
+recklessly than ever, and Berthe, though conscious of the value to
+herself of the divorce, had dreaded the granting of the decree. For the
+prospect of being bound to this lost creature filled her with aversion.
+
+Conscience makes cowards of us all, and Berthe feared the man. Not that
+he had shown any inclination for violence toward her, though he had long
+been irritable and disposed to quarrel on slight provocation. She did
+not fear his hand; it was his presence. The sodden spectacle was
+becoming a weight upon her soul, an accusation beyond her strength to
+bear. She had loved him, loved him even now, and her guilty conscience
+cried incessantly, "Behold your handiwork!"
+
+On the day when Natalie had petted Tabitha, she had for the first time
+lived in fear, even of his hand. Early that morning she had noticed that
+his speech was tremulous and uncertain, though he drank less than usual.
+He dozed constantly, often waking with a cry of terror; and then his
+whole frame would tremble as he gazed with eyes of hate and horror at
+herself, or at some invisible yet dreadful object near her, muttering
+incoherent phrases indicating fear. Again he would doze, again awake and
+the scene would be repeated. With each new seizure his action became
+more violent, while the nameless horror that was upon him communicated
+itself to her. At last she sent for a physician, but not until there had
+been a wild outbreak. He had clutched her by the throat: "Devil!" he
+shouted, "you shall not take me to hell; I am of the elect, a Claghorn!
+Down, fiend!" She had cowered in fear, and he had saved her life by
+fainting.
+
+The doctor easily diagnosed the case. Berthe's willingness to pay for
+the services of two male nurses, and the fear that any disturbance might
+entail a frantic outbreak and death, were the considerations that
+restrained the physician from ordering the patient's removal to a
+hospital.
+
+The convulsions of the stricken man were frightful; his shrieks, his
+wailing prayers for deliverance from hell--these appalled the woman,
+filling her with apprehension akin to that of the raving victim. His
+calls for Natalie were most piteous, wails of anguish that pierced the
+heart of the woman that had loved him, and whose moans answered his
+incessant repetition of the name of one, lacking whose forgiveness he
+must face the horrors of the damned. The unending utterance of the name,
+never ceasing even when at last he sank into the stupor of exhaustion
+and of opiates, attracted the attention of the physician, who told
+Berthe that while he believed the case hopeless, possible good might be
+effected by the presence of the person without whom it seemed as though
+the man could not even die.
+
+The awful fear that he would die, his last wish ungratified, wherefore,
+in her belief, his restless soul would haunt all her future days; this,
+added to the pity for the man she still loved, who had rescued her from
+misery, whose head had lain upon her bosom, nerved her to carry out the
+resolve she had taken. She knew that no messenger could effect the
+purpose; she must assume the task herself. It was not without a pang
+that she determined upon a mission which, if successful, must involve
+her desertion of the dying man; but, though she did not forget such
+jewels as she possessed or to collect all the money that remained, her
+flight was nevertheless intended as such expiation as she could make.
+
+She hoped, though she could not be sure, that her identity as Leonard's
+companion was not known to Natalie; but she assumed that Mrs. Leon had
+given information as to other misconduct, and she expected to be met
+with cold disapproval, if, indeed, she were received at all. But instead
+of disapproval she was encountered with outstretched hands and their
+friendly pressure; and, as with this reception there came upon her the
+recollection of the sweet graciousness of her former mistress, and with
+it the consciousness of her requital of the kindness of past days, her
+heart was like to fail.
+
+"I bring you a message," she gasped, "from your husband."
+
+"My husband!" For the moment Natalie forgot that she had no husband.
+Then the recollection came upon her, and with it a premonition of evil.
+She was as pale as Berthe, as she stood, looking at her visitor,
+bewildered and afraid.
+
+"Stop!" she exclaimed, as Berthe was about to speak. "What can you know
+of him you call my husband? He left me, abandoned me for a wicked woman.
+He wrote me confessing his shame, but not his fault. Again he wrote,
+insinuating wicked deeds of me, and threatening me. Since two days he is
+no more my husband; I can receive no message."
+
+"He is dying!"
+
+The red flush which had displaced the pallor of Natalie's cheek
+disappeared. Again her face grew pale; she stared at Berthe.
+
+"Listen," faltered the Frenchwoman. "He wronged you, yet he loved you
+always, has loved you till this hour, and cannot die without your
+forgiveness."
+
+"Take it to him----Dying! Leonard, Leonard!" She covered her face.
+
+"I was maid to the woman he went away with," continued Berthe, "and so I
+came to know his story. The woman has been kind to him--let her pass,
+then"--seeing that her listener shuddered. "The man is dying. He moans
+and wails for you--for you. The woman herself begged me to come for you.
+He fears" (her face grew whiter) "he fears the fires of hell, but he
+will not have a priest. Only you can rescue him--your pardon--he cannot
+die without it." She broke down. All else she might have borne upon her
+conscience; but she could not bear that he should go unshriven.
+
+At the mention of the fires of hell Natalie was conquered. "Take me to
+him," she said.
+
+"Follow me in half an hour," Berthe rose as she spoke, handing a written
+address to Natalie.
+
+"But no time must be lost----"
+
+"In half an hour," repeated Berthe. "Give her--the woman--time to get
+away." And then she passed out of the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLII.
+
+"I WILL NEVER LEAVE HIM, SO HELP ME GOD IN HEAVEN."
+
+
+"Natalie." He stirred uneasily, muttering the word, which since her
+coming he had not uttered; then, as she lightly pressed the hand she
+held, he slept again. So she had sat for hours beside his bed.
+
+The physician had prepared her for the sight that had met her eyes. From
+Tabitha, who was with her, he had gleaned some knowledge of the facts.
+Tabitha, still ignorant of the granting of the decree, had assured him
+that the visitor was the wife of Leonard Claghorn.
+
+"Poor woman, she will need her courage," he said. "The other one has
+gone. As for the wife, if she can bear it, I would have her sit beside
+him so that he can see her when he wakes."
+
+So there she had taken her place, beside the man whom the law had
+decreed was no more to her than any other. But death mocks law. Dying,
+he was so much to her that no hand but hers should smooth his pillow.
+
+Perhaps the nature of the disease, perhaps the deep exhaustion, had made
+a great change in his appearance. The bloated aspect of his face was
+gone, and even a greater beauty than the beauty of his youth and
+innocence was apparent. But it was the beauty of ruin. The face was
+marble, yet lined with the deep furrows of sorrow and remorse. The hair
+was gray at the temples, the cheeks were hollow and the mouth was drawn.
+It was Leonard, the man whose head had lain upon her bosom, the father
+of her child--the same, yet oh, how changed!
+
+"Natalie!"
+
+She bent toward him. He essayed to lift her hand to his lips; she placed
+it on his brow.
+
+"I have had a dream," he whispered, "a dreadful dream!"
+
+"Hush, Leonard. You must sleep."
+
+He feebly raised his arm and tried to draw her to him. Slowly she bent
+toward him, falling on her knees beside the bed. His arm was now about
+her neck; he drew her cheek to his.
+
+"My wife!" He uttered the words with a long-drawn sigh, of such sweet
+content that in that sigh she believed he had breathed his life out.
+Soon he spoke again. "Now I can sleep," he said, and freed her from his
+embrace. She rose gently and stood watching him; he slept without the
+stertorous breathing of before. Looking up, she saw the physician in the
+doorway. He beckoned to her. She rose and quietly left the room.
+
+"Madam," said the doctor, "this is wonderful. That natural sleep may
+portend recovery."
+
+"Then I can go," she said.
+
+The doctor looked at her gravely, not approvingly. But it was not as he
+supposed; she was not hard-hearted; but the woman! Leonard had written
+that his conscience and his honor demanded that he marry the woman. If
+he were to live, there was no place at his bedside for her, who had once
+been his wife.
+
+"Mrs. Claghorn," said the doctor, "your companion, Miss--ah--Miss Cone,
+has informed me of the existing relations between you and your husband.
+As a stranger I can give no advice, can only tell you that the woman who
+has been his companion has left your husband forever."
+
+"Left him to die!" she exclaimed.
+
+"Precisely. It need not surprise you. It is barbarous; but such women
+are barbarous. I shall be surprised if one who has displayed so much
+magnanimity should fail now. Pardon me, Mrs. Claghorn, but your place is
+by your husband's side. One woman has basely left him to die. Should you
+leave him now, you repeat the act."
+
+The doctor silently withdrew. Natalie sank into a chair. Her mind was
+confused. Her place by her husband's side! Had she then a husband? The
+scenes in which she had been an actor had numbed her faculties, strained
+by the long watch by the bedside she had left. A feeling of suffocation
+was stealing over her; instinctively she loosened her dress at the
+throat. The letter she had written to Mark fell upon the floor, and she
+sat staring at it, dumb.
+
+It became evident that her husband, as all in the house believed him to
+be, would live. Over and over again the doctor congratulated her on the
+wonderful influence of her presence upon the sick man. Naturally, he was
+glad to have rescued a patient from the very jaws of death; and though,
+since he had learned more of her history from Tabitha Cone, he had
+slight sympathy for the man, yet he believed that even under the
+untoward circumstances existing, forgiveness and reconciliation was the
+course which promised most for future happiness.
+
+"It is the best thing for her," he said to Tabitha. "She will withdraw
+the divorce proceedings and forgive him. She can never be happy unless
+she does."
+
+Tabitha, though sure that she herself would never have forgiven her
+mariner under similar circumstances, which, however, she admitted were
+unthinkable in that connection, agreed with the physician.
+
+"He will be long in getting well," said the physician; "if, indeed, he
+ever recovers completely. If he has the heart of a man he must
+appreciate what she has done for him; literally brought him back to
+life."
+
+"He was a good man, once," observed Tabitha, her eyes filling. "Oh,
+Doctor! The most beautiful, the sweetest; the most frank and loving
+boy----"
+
+"And a brilliant theologian, you tell me. Well, well, Miss Cone, in my
+profession we learn charity. It is astounding what an evil influence
+some women can gain over men. And this one was not even beautiful."
+
+"The hussy!"
+
+"Quite so. Ah, Miss Cone, our sex must ever be on guard," and the doctor
+laughed a little. He was feeling triumphant over the recovery of his
+patient.
+
+Yet in watching that recovery his face was often very grave. Natalie was
+sharp-eyed. "Is your patient getting well?" she asked.
+
+"He improves hourly," was the answer, but the tone was not cheerful. He
+looked at Natalie anxiously.
+
+"Physically, yes. His mind, Doctor?"
+
+"His mental faculties are failing fast."
+
+"How long has this been going on?" He was surprised at her equable
+tones. Evidently she had nerved herself for this disclosure.
+
+"A brave woman," he thought.
+
+"That is a hard question to answer."
+
+"Do you think it the result of drink? He had never touched liquor two
+years since."
+
+"I should hardly ascribe it to liquor entirely. Doubtless,
+over-indulgence of that nature has been a force, a great force. The
+delirium in which you found him may be directly ascribed to drink."
+
+"If he had been greatly harassed, say two years since, having been up to
+that time a good man--if then he had suddenly fallen into evil--would
+you ascribe such a fall to the mental strain consequent upon the worry I
+have suggested?"
+
+"She seeks every palliation for him," thought the doctor. "Madam, I
+should say that in the case of a man, such as you have pictured, a
+sudden lapse into evil courses, courses which belied his training and
+previous life----"
+
+"Yes?" She was looking steadfastly at him. He little knew the resolve
+that hung upon his words.
+
+"I should say he was not wholly responsible. I should attribute much to
+the worry, the vexations, to which you have alluded."
+
+With all her firmness she shrank as from a blow. Thinking to comfort
+her, he had driven a knife into her heart.
+
+"And now, my dear Mrs. Claghorn, since we are upon this subject--a
+subject from which I admit I have shrunk--let me tender you some advice.
+You have saved your husband's life; let that be your solace. It will not
+be for his happiness that you sacrifice your own."
+
+"Go on," she said, seeing that he hesitated.
+
+"After awhile--not now," he said, "but after your presence is less
+necessary to him, you must let me aid you to place him in an
+establishment where he will have every care----"
+
+"An asylum?"
+
+The doctor nodded.
+
+"I will never leave him, so help me God in heaven! Never, never, Mark,
+my darling, for I, and only I, brought him to this pass!" She cried
+these words aloud, her hand upraised to heaven.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIII.
+
+MONEY, HEAPS OF MONEY.
+
+
+Mark Claghorn, standing by the window of that room at Stormpoint which
+was especially set aside as his own, but which, in its luxurious
+fittings, bore rather the traces of the all-swaying hand of the mistress
+of the mansion, gazed moodily out toward the tomb, speculating, perhaps,
+as to the present occupation of the soul that had once been caged in the
+bones that crumbled there.
+
+To whom entered Mrs. Joe, who silently contemplated him awhile, and
+then, approaching, touched his shoulder. He turned and smiled, an act
+becoming rare with him. "Mark," she said, "I am getting old."
+
+"You look as young as my sister might," he said.
+
+"That's nonsense," but she smiled, too. Barring some exaggeration, she
+knew that his words were true.
+
+"Even so," she urged seriously, "you have wandered enough. You might
+stay here for my sake."
+
+"Mother, I will stay here for your sake."
+
+"Only that, my son? You know I want more than that."
+
+"Yes," he said, "you want too much. Let us have it out. Believe me, your
+pleasant dream of a political career for me is hopeless. Granted that I
+could buy my way to high office--though I do not think so--could I ever
+respect myself, or command respect? Where, then, would be the honor?"
+
+"I never thought of buying."
+
+"No, not in plain terms. But at my age, together with the fact that I am
+a stranger, at least a newcomer, in this State, money would be my only
+resource--perhaps a hopeless one, in any case. The rich man must learn
+his lesson, which is, that wealth bars the way to honor."
+
+"Our senior Senator is rich."
+
+"I do not speak of moderately rich men. Suspicion is even directed
+(unjustly, I believe) against such men. But the whole State knows that,
+politically, our Senator has risen from the ranks. Perhaps he has been
+compelled to buy that which is his due--who can tell? But all know that
+at least he has earned the distinction he has won."
+
+"And could you not earn it?"
+
+"No. I am not merely moderately rich. I should be 'held up' by every
+rogue that glories in the name of politician. If I refused to buy, and
+refuse I must, I should have no chance whatever. Gold besmirches many
+things. A rich man is of necessity defiled, let him keep his hands as
+clean as he can."
+
+Mrs. Joe sighed.
+
+"You have not been willing to realize the facts which influence my
+life," he went on. "We must look facts in the face. Political
+distinction is not for me. For your sake I would try, were I not assured
+that your disappointment would be inevitable. He laid his hand upon her
+shoulder. He spoke very kindly.
+
+"Mark," she said--there were tears in her eyes--"I wish you were happy."
+
+"If I am content----"
+
+"But you are not. Oh, Mark, seek happiness. Marry."
+
+He smiled grimly. "I wish I could," he said.
+
+"Mark, you say my dream is hopeless. I surrender it. Is yours less
+hopeless? You wear your life away. Is it worthy to wait for a man to
+die?"
+
+He made no answer.
+
+"Dear," she said, and the word moved him deeply, for though he knew how
+much he was beloved of his mother, a term of tenderness was rare from
+her lips--"Dear, you know what she wrote me."
+
+"You showed me the letter. She gave me the same advice long ago."
+
+"It is the right thing to do. Paula loves you. Natalie is lost to you.
+You do not know where she is; she does not intend that you shall know.
+She will not marry you now, even though death were to free her from the
+bonds she has assumed. She is right. Mind, Mark, I say no word of
+censure. I believe in her purity as I do in Paula's--but the world will
+talk. That which she has done cannot be kept secret, but her motive must
+remain a secret. Had the man died----"
+
+"Enough!" he said sternly. "You say you believe in her as you do in
+Paula. No shadow of suspicion can ever cross my mind or yours. We need
+not consider the world----"
+
+"But, my son, she will consider it. She does consider it. Her letter to
+me shows it. That letter was no easy one for a woman to write. Do you
+think she would even indirectly have disclosed your secret to me, except
+that she believed it necessary for your good? I do not doubt, Mark, that
+she has renounced your love even to you. Is it not unworthy to----"
+
+"To love without hope? Perhaps it is. But since the fact is not
+generally known--here, as in some other things, the sin consists in
+being found out." He laughed. "You know you didn't find out; you were
+told."
+
+"Yes; in the hope, I verily believe, that the disclosure would wound you
+and so kill your love."
+
+"It wounded, certainly," he said bitterly. "Perhaps, if you give it
+time, the wound may yet be as fatal as you wish--as she wished." He
+laughed again very grimly. "Strange creatures, women," he said. "Their
+self-sacrifice includes the sacrifice of every one but self."
+
+"That is cruel! From no possible point of view can her life be a happy
+one."
+
+"How you quarrel about a man and cling together against a man!" he said,
+smiling down upon the lady, who had no other answer than the shrug
+which, when it moves feminine shoulders, implies that masculine density
+is impenetrable. His smile broke into laughter.
+
+It aroused her secret indignation; but encouraged her, too. If he could
+laugh, her case was not hopeless.
+
+"Mark, let us be sensible. You should marry and have children. What else
+is open to you, the rich man? You have no faith in the world, none in
+friendship, none in love. Consider what your life must be if, at this
+age, all purer sources of feeling are dried up! In marriage you will
+find them all reopened. Your family will be your world. You need
+children. I need them. We are rich; yes, horribly rich. What is all this
+worth to us? You are the last of a race, honorable since the tenant of
+yonder grave first set foot upon this soil; honorable before that time.
+Shall that race die in you? My son, that old-world notion of Family is
+estimable. This country needs that it be cherished. The wealth will not
+be so new in the next generation. Your sons will not be strangers in the
+land of their fathers. You shall so train them that in them you shall
+reap the distinction denied to you. You say I am yet young. I am not
+old, and may still live to see my grandsons honored by their fellow men.
+By your own confession nothing remains to you but marriage. Love is
+offered you daily, by one most sweet and most lovable. Paula----"
+
+He stopped her by a gesture. Her unwonted energy had impressed him. She
+had spoken well. "You have uttered many truths," he said, "but what you
+say of Paula is not kind, nor do you know----"
+
+"Mark! on my honor as a woman, I believe that Paula loves you." Then she
+left him.
+
+He remained long musing. Why should he not make his mother happy? It was
+true, waiting for a man to die was a pitiful occupation. And even should
+the man die there would be no hope for him. It was a year since Natalie
+had hidden herself with her burden and Tabitha Cone. Hidden herself, as
+he well knew, from him. She had written both him and his mother. She had
+not feared to again acknowledge her love; but she had prayed him to
+forget her. And she had told him that Paula loved him; she had shown him
+that his duty required him to love Paula in return; finally, she had,
+almost sternly, bade him cease to hope.
+
+Perhaps his mother was right. Perhaps Paula loved him--as much as she
+could love. He loved her in the same cool fashion. He was used to her.
+She was very beautiful, completely amiable, kind and gentle. Not very
+brilliant, yet if simple-minded, not a fool. Marriage would bring out
+all there was of Paula, and that might be much more than was generally
+suspected. And whatever it was it would be lovable. He knew he was
+living the life of a fool. Why live that life consciously? Why not make
+his mother completely happy; Paula and himself happier; as happy as they
+could be?
+
+He turned to his desk and opened a hidden drawer therein. From this he
+took a small packet of papers. "A man about to die or marry should set
+his house in order," he muttered, as he spread the papers open. There
+was the first letter Natalie had ever written him; a reply to his letter
+of condolence concerning her father's death. He glanced over it and
+slowly tore it into fragments. He did the same with the few others
+written by her, all except the last he had received. This was in answer
+to a letter into which he had thrown all the strength of his soul,
+lowering, if not completely breaking down, the last barriers of reserve
+behind which those who feel deeply hide their hearts.
+
+He could not complain that in her answer she had not been equally frank.
+"From the innermost depths of my soul I love you, and if more can be, I
+honor you still more--and because I so love and honor you I must not see
+you again. I have loved you since the day I first saw you in the
+Odenwald. I loved you when I became the betrothed of another. I hoped
+then you would find a way to free me from the promise I had given. I
+aver before Heaven that I tried with all my strength to be a faithful
+wife. I loved my husband; alas! not as I know now, with a wife's love,
+but I believed it. Yet--let me confess it--at the very bottom of my
+heart slept my love for you, not dead as I had thought it. I have sinned
+against you, against him who was my husband, against myself. We must all
+suffer for my sin. You are strong. I must gather all the strength I can
+for the duty that my guilt has laid upon me--to bear my fate and to make
+a ruined life as endurable as unremitting care can make it. My sin was
+great. Consider my expiation! I must always see before my eyes my
+handiwork.
+
+"You love me. Do you think that ever a doubt of your love crosses my
+mind? You will always love me. I know it. But, if you see me no more
+that love will, in time, become a tender reminiscence--not worth a tear,
+rather a smile--of pity let it be, for the lives that are wrecked. But
+from this day forth let your own life present a fair ideal to be
+realized. One has grown up beside you whose fate is in your hands. The
+fashioning of her destiny lies with you. To be a happy wife and mother,
+the lot for which nature intended her, or to live the barren life of a
+religious devotee; and knowing her as I do, I know that for you,
+embittered and distrustful by reason of your burden of inordinate
+wealth, she is supremely fitted to make your life serene and cheerful in
+return for the felicity you will bring to her.
+
+"Adieu, for the last time. I shall not forget you, but shall love you as
+long as I live, and as warmly as I love you now. But deliberately, and
+with unalterable resolve, I have chosen my lot. Nothing, not even the
+hand of death, can render me fit to be more to you than the memory of
+one who has lived her life."
+
+He slowly tore the letter into fragments as he had torn the others.
+Perhaps his mouth twitched as he did so. He looked upon the little heap
+of paper on his desk. "The Romance of a Rich Young Man," he muttered,
+and smiled at the conceit. Then he gathered the fragments in his hand
+and strewed them upon some tinder in the chimney and applied a match.
+"Gone up in Smoke," he said aloud.
+
+"Did you speak?" asked his mother, who had entered the room.
+
+"I repeated the title of a novel I am going to write," he said. "I
+wanted to hear how it would sound."
+
+"You must live a romance before you can write one, Mark."
+
+"True," he answered dryly. "I need experience. Where is Paula?"
+
+"Oh, Mark!"
+
+He kissed her. "Yes," he said, "I will do what I can to make you happy,
+and--gain experience."
+
+Mrs. Joe's eyes beamed through her tears.
+
+"She is in the library."
+
+Leaving the room by the window, which opened upon a veranda, he walked
+toward the library, the windows of which opened upon the same veranda.
+
+The library windows were divided in the centre, like doors. They were
+open now, and the thick French plate reflected like a mirror. In the
+open window pane he saw, as in a mirror, a portion of the interior.
+Paula was there, and Paula's head nestled against the breast of Father
+Cameril, and the good Father's arm encircled her while his lips pressed
+hers.
+
+Mark stole silently away.
+
+He found Mrs. Joe awaiting him in the room he had left. "Be very kind to
+her, mother," he said. "She will have something to tell you."
+
+"But you have been so quick----"
+
+He smiled. "I shall not be the hero of the tale. Father Cameril is the
+lucky man. After all, it is better. I could not have made her happy as
+she deserves to be. I am glad I was prevented from offering her----" He
+hesitated.
+
+"Your heart," said Mrs. Joe.
+
+"An insult," he answered curtly, as he left the room, strolling toward
+Eliphalet's tomb.
+
+And at Eliphalet's tomb he recognized that Natalie had been wise. Now
+that it was lost to him he knew that his last long-neglected chance for
+happiness was gone. Happiness! Perhaps the word meant too much, but in
+Paula's companionship he could at least have found, in time, contentment
+and cheerfulness, and are these not happiness, the highest happiness?
+What now was left him? Money, heaps of money! It barred the way to
+honorable ambition; its heavy weight lay on his heart, breeding therein
+suspicion of the love or friendship of all men and women. For him life
+must be a solitude. He could never lie beside a wife assured that he had
+won her for himself. He knew that the deadly poison of distrust must
+ever and ever more thoroughly taint his being, distorting his vision and
+rendering the aspect of all things hateful. Yet how many thousand men,
+whose clothes and dinners were assured them, would be glad to change
+places with him! "But all I have are clothes and food," he muttered.
+
+"We are all poor critters!" Deacon Bedott had spoken words of wisdom.
+"But the poorest of all is the Rich Man, Deacon," he said.
+
+And then bethought him that by this time Paula and Father Cameril would
+have made their great announcement. "Little Paula!" he murmured. "Well,
+she shall have joyous wedding bells, at least, and smiling faces. For
+the rest let the fond Father look to it!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIV.
+
+WEDDING BELLS.
+
+
+The summer sun beat pitilessly upon the burnished cobble stones, driving
+from the crooked street all except the geese, and even these only
+languidly stretched their necks, hissing inhospitably at the heels of
+the dusty wayfarer, the sole object of interest to the landlord of the
+Red-Ox, who stood in the gateway of his hostelry and blinked in the
+glare of the sun. "Too old for a student," he muttered, "and no
+spectacles. Perhaps an artist." As the pedestrian came nearer a puzzled
+gleam, half of recognition, spread over his features. The dusty traveler
+stopped. "And so you are here yet!" and he slapped the broad shoulder of
+the host.
+
+"Here yet, and hope to be for many a year to come," answered the fat
+host; "and you are here, not for the first time, I dare swear; but who
+you are, or when you last were here----
+
+"That you can't recall. Why should you?"
+
+"_Ein Amerikaner!_ A _studiosus juris_, of the Pestilentia. _Ein alter
+Bursch_ of ten years back! Remember? Surely, all but the name."
+
+"And what's in a name?" shaking the offered hand of the landlord. "Mine
+is a mouthful for you--Claghorn."
+
+"_Herr Doktor_ Clokhorn. That's it. Not so great a mouthful after all."
+He led the way into the well-remembered garden. "Many a schoppen have
+you had here," he said; "and many a time sung '_Alter Burschen
+Herrlichkeit_' at this very table, and many trout----"
+
+"Devoured," interrupted Mark. "That pastime will bear repetition. As for
+singing, one loses the desire."
+
+"Not so," observed the fat host. "I am sixty, but I lead the Liederkranz
+to-day. Wine, woman and song--you know what Luther said----"
+
+"I remember. But not even the Great Reformer's poetry is to be taken
+too literally. We'll discuss the point later on. Now some trout, then a
+pipe and a gossip."
+
+When the host departed to attend to the order, Mark unstrapped his
+knapsack and looked about him.
+
+He had come thousands of miles to see this garden! He admitted the
+foolish fact to himself, though even to his mother he would have denied
+it. The fat host was right; he had drunk many a flask of wine in this
+place, roared in many a chorus, had danced many a waltz with village
+maidens on yonder platform; but of these various scenes of his student
+days he had not thought until his host recalled them. They were
+memories, even memories with some of that tender sadness which renders
+such memories pleasant, but such as they would never have drawn him
+here.
+
+And now that he was here, so sharp a pain was in his heart that he
+recognized his folly. The wound was yet too new. He should have waited a
+decade or more. Then he might have found solace in recalling her to his
+mind, here where first he had seen her; he, in all the arrogant pride of
+youth; she, with all the fresh beauty of a school girl. Now no effort
+was needed to recall her to his memory--she was ever present.
+
+Nevertheless, he enjoyed his fish and his wine. "A superlative vintage,"
+said the host, who had had time to recall his guest more distinctly, and
+who remembered that in past days _Studiosus Clokhorn_ had dispensed
+money with a liberal hand.
+
+"And so the inn has been enlarged," said Mark, looking about him. "That
+means prosperity."
+
+"Forellenbach is becoming a resort," replied the host. "We have parties
+that remain for days. We have strangers here at this moment."
+
+"Ah!" was the sleepy comment.
+
+"Yes; three ladies. Or rather, two ladies and a maid. Mother and
+daughter--English."
+
+"Ah!" said Mark again.
+
+At this point the host, rather to the relief of his guest, was called
+away, and Mark adjusted himself upon the bench and dozed. A long tramp,
+and perhaps the superlative vintage, had made him sleepy.
+
+When he awoke, sunset shadows were about him. He was vexed, having
+intended to walk on to Heidelberg, which now he must do in part after
+dark. However, a walk by night might be pleasanter than had been the
+tramp under the sun. Before leaving he would look about. It was not
+likely that he would ever again see a place which would dwell always in
+his memory.
+
+As he neared the cave where the echo dwelt he saw the slender figure of
+a woman. Her back was toward him, but the garb and mien proclaimed one,
+not a permanent resident of the village. "One of mine host's guests," he
+murmured, "a _gnaedige Frau_ of artistic taste and economical practice."
+He paused, unwilling to disturb feminine meditation. The stranger stood
+at the entrance to the cave, on the spot where first he had seen the
+girl who, later, had become the one woman in the world to him. There was
+something in her attitude, bent head and arms hanging listless, that
+interested, even moved him. She, too, looked like some lonely being,
+saying a last farewell at a shrine where love had been born; and then,
+as she strolled away, hidden by overhanging boughs of trees and the
+slowly deepening evening shadows, he smiled at his conceit.
+
+He strolled on to where she had been standing, for, though he smiled
+cynically at his foolishness, the spot was to him a sacred one. If
+sentimental folly had brought him a thousand leagues, it might well
+control a few steps more.
+
+As he reached the place he came face to face with another woman, whose
+old but sharp eyes recognized him instantly. "Mr. Mark!"
+
+"Tabby!" He was so astonished that he could say no more for a moment.
+Then he found words: "Was that Natalie?"
+
+Miss Cone, though slightly hysterical from pleasure and surprise,
+explained that Natalie had just left her. "But what brings you here?"
+she added.
+
+"Heaven or fate," was the answer. And then he was for following Natalie
+at once. But Tabitha restrained him. "Let me prepare her," she urged,
+and to that plea she found him willing to listen.
+
+Then she told him the story of their wanderings. They had brought
+Leonard to Europe, principally for the voyage, which, however, had been
+of no benefit. They had remained in Ireland, near Londonderry, where
+they had first landed. He had never been able to move, but passed his
+life in a wheeled chair. His mind had been that of an infant, though
+before he died he seemed to have gleams of intelligence, and had once in
+an old churchyard expressed a wish to be buried there, or so Natalie had
+interpreted his babbling. And there he had slept for a year. "And so,"
+sobbed Tabitha, "the poor boy's weary life is over at last. God bless
+him!"
+
+"Amen to that," said Mark. "Tabitha! It has been a grief to me, God
+knows. So heavy a sorrow that I have thought I could not bear it; yet,
+at this moment I can say that I am glad that Natalie forgave him and
+cherished him till he died."
+
+Tabitha looked up. Her hard, worn old face was softened by her tears.
+"Those words," she said, "will win her for you; if words can win the
+heart already yours."
+
+At the appointed hour Tabitha led him to Natalie, who was waiting for
+him. He could see the swaying of her form as she rose to greet him. He
+took her in his arms.
+
+"My darling, my darling." He could say nothing else. Her arm had crept
+upward about his neck; he held her close.
+
+"Why are you here?" he asked, at length, then added: "Bless God that you
+are here."
+
+"To say good-bye to a place that has often been in my thoughts. And,
+since heaven has permitted it, to say good-bye to you."
+
+"That you shall never say. I vow before God never to leave you. You and
+I shall live our lives together, whatever your answer to the petition I
+now make. Will you be my wife?"
+
+"Mark, I am not----"
+
+"Stop!" he said. "You once declared that as you loved me, so you honored
+me. I now, with all solemnity, declare that you are honored as you are
+loved by me. If I do not estimate the fault which you have expiated as
+you do, I respect and admire the expiation. If you believe me to be a
+truthful man, learn now that I approve your care of him who was your
+husband. Let that suffice. And now, once more I swear that I will never
+leave you. Will you be my wife?"
+
+"Mark, I love you."
+
+"Then the wedding bells shall ring, and Forellenbach shall rejoice."
+Their lips met, and in the kiss they forgot the years that had passed
+since last they saw Forellenbach.
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mr. Claghorn's Daughter, by Hilary Trent
+
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