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diff --git a/40385.txt b/40385.txt deleted file mode 100644 index e8941d9..0000000 --- a/40385.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,17485 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Rutledge, by Miriam Coles Harris - -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: Rutledge - -Author: Miriam Coles Harris - -Release Date: August 1, 2012 [EBook #40385] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RUTLEDGE *** - - - - -Produced by Clare Graham & Joyce McDonald at -http://www.girlebooks.com - Marc D'Hooghe at -http://www.freeliterature.org - - - - - -RUTLEDGE - -By - -MIRIAM COLES HARRIS - - -NEW YORK: - -DERBY & JACKSON, 498 BROADWAY. - -1860. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - - - "Heavily hangs the broad sunflower, - Over its grave i' the earth so chilly; - Heavily hangs the hollyhock, - Heavily hangs the tiger lily." - -TENNYSON. - - -It was the gloomy twilight of a gloomy November day; dark and leaden -clouds were fast shutting out every lingering ray of daylight; and the -wind, which moaned dismally around the house, was tossing into mad -antics the leaves which strewed the playground. The lamps were not -lighted yet; of visible fires the _pensionnat_ of St. Catharine's was -innocent; a dull black stove, more or less gigantic, according to the -size of the apartment, gloomed in every one, and affected favorably the -thermometer, if not the imagination. We paced untiringly up and down the -dim corridor--Nelly, Agnes and I--three children, who, by virtue of our -youth, ought to have been let off, one would have thought, for some -years yet, from the deep depression that was fast settling on our -spirits. In truth we were all three very miserable, we thought--Nelly -and Agnes, I am afraid, more so than I, who in common justice ought to -have participated deeply in, as I was the chief occasion of, their -grief. - -My trunk was packed and strapped, and stood outside the door of my -dormitory, ready for the porter's attention. In it lay my school-books, -closed forever, as I hoped; and souvenirs innumerable of school -friendships and the undying love of the extremely young persons by whom -I was surrounded. - -From them I was to be severed to-morrow, as was expected, and - - "It might be for years, and it might be for ever," - -as Nelly had just said, choking up on the last sentence. I _did_ feel -unhappy, and very much like "choking up" too, when I passed the great -windows, that looked into the playground, and remembered all the mad -hours of frolic I had passed there; when I took down my shawl from the -peg where it had hung nightly for five years, and remembered, with a -thrill, it was "the last time;" when the lid of my empty desk fell down -with an echo that sounded drearily through the long school-room; when I -thought "where I might be this time to-morrow," and when Agnes' and -Nelly's arms twined about me, reminded me of the rapidly approaching -hour of separation from those who had represented the world to me for -five years--whom I had loved and hated, and by whom I had been loved and -hated, with all the fervor of sixteen. The hatreds now were softened -down by the nearness of the parting; all my ancient foes, (and they had -not been few), had "made up" and promised forgiveness and forgetfulness -entire; and all ancient feuds were dead. All my friends now loved me -with tenfold the ardor they had ever felt before; all the staff of -teachers, who had, I am afraid, a great deal to forgive, of impatient -self-will, mad spirits and thoughtless inattention, were good enough to -forget all, and remember only what they were pleased to call the truth -and honesty and courage, that in the years we had been together, they -had never known to fail. - -They little knew how their unlooked for praise humbled me; and how far -more deeply than any reproach, it made me realize the waste of time and -talents that I had to look back upon. - -So, most unexpectedly to myself, I found that I was going off with -flying colors; that all were joining to deplore my departure and laud my -good qualities; and that, from being rather a "limb" in the eyes of the -school, and a hopeless sinner in my own, I was promoted, temporarily, to -the dignity of heroine at St. Catharine's. - -It was with a very full heart that I remembered all this; and deeper -feelings than I had known since my childhood were stirred by the -kindness I was certain was as undeserved as it was unexpected. But such -a future dawned before me, that tender regret struggled hard with giddy -hope for the mastery. In almost every girl's life, leaving school is a -marked and important event; and imagination has always a wide, and -generally well-cultivated field for its powers, even when home and -future are as certain as things mundane can be. But in my case there was -so much room for dreaming, so much raw material for fancy to work up, -that a tamer and less imaginative child than I was, would have been -tempted into castle-building. The sad event that five years before had -placed me, a stunned, bewildered, motherless child, in the midst of -strangers, had largely developed the turn for dreaming that such -children always possess. The sympathy and love that God provides for -every child that is born into the world, withdrawn, they turn "not -sullen, nor in scorn," but from an instinct He has himself implanted, -inward, for their sympathy and counsel. So it happened, that though -Nelly and Agnes, and a dozen merry girls beside, were my sworn friends -and very firmest allies, none of them knew anything of the keen wonder -and almost painful longing with which I pictured the future to myself. -They knew, of course, the simple facts, that as I had no father or -mother, I was to go and live with my aunt, who had been in Europe until -this summer and whom I had not seen since my mother died; that she had -three daughters, one older, two younger than myself; that she had sent -me some pretty things from Paris, and was, probably, very kind, and I -should have a very nice time. - -They knew only these bare beams and framework of the gorgeous fabric I -had reared upon them; they little knew the hours of wakefulness in which -I wondered whether I should be happy or miserable in that new home; -whether my aunt would love me as I already most ardently loved her; -whether the new cousins were at all like Nelly and Agnes; and whether -they were prepared to value the wealth of affection I had in reserve for -them. But time would soon settle all this into certainty; and my aunt's -last letter, containing all the final arrangements for my journey, I at -present knew by heart. The only possible shade of uncertainty about my -starting, lay in the chance of the gentleman who was to be my escort, -being detained by business a day or two longer at C----, and not -arriving to-night, as had been considered probable. - -Nelly built greatly upon this possibility, and as the twilight deepened, -and the moaning wind and growing darkness pressed more and more upon us, -we turned to that as our only chance of comfort. Nelly had said, for the -twentieth time, "I am sure he will not come till to-morrow, it is too -late for him now," when a sharp ring at the bell made us all start, and -sent the blood swiftly enough through _my_ veins, and, I suppose, no -less swiftly through my young companions'; for Nelly convulsively -clasped me round the neck and burst into tears, while Agnes said, in a -choking voice, "I'm certain of it!" And for three dreadful minutes of -suspense we stood motionless, holding our breath, and watching for the -first token of the approach of the messenger who should confirm or -confute our forebodings. - -At last, steps echoed along the hall, and bearing a dim candle, which -blinked nervously at every step, appeared the Biddy who officiated as -waiter at St. Catharine's. She had a card in her hand, and our end of -the corridor seemed her destination, and our party the party she was in -search of. - -"Well?" said Agnes, making a distracted effort to break the silence, as -Biddy groped stupidly and slowly toward us. "A gentleman," she said, "a -gentleman to see you, miss," and she handed me the card. "I knew it," -said Agnes, with a deep sigh, as, per favor of the blinking candle, the -three heads, clustered over the card, made out the name, "Mr. Arthur -Rutledge." - -"Oh, I am so frightened!" I said, sitting down on the lowest step of the -stairs. "Girls, what shall I do?" - -Nelly shook her head; she did not wonder I was afraid; for five years I -had encountered no gentlemen more alarming than the professors, and no -strangers more intimidating than occasional new scholars; and knew no -more how to conduct myself on this occasion, than if I had not received -Miss Crowen's valuable instructions on deportment. I had been taught to -swim, theoretically, on shore, and now was to be pushed suddenly out -into deep water, to make the best use I could of my scientific -knowledge. As was to be supposed, I found myself not much the better for -it. - -"He's not a young gentleman though," said Agnes, "and I shouldn't mind -it much if I were you." - -"Oh, of course he's not young, or Aunt Edith would not have had me go -with him. He's as old as the hills, I know but that makes it so much the -worse; and then, he was abroad with my aunt and cousins, and knows them -all so well; and Aunt Edith calls him 'an accomplished gentleman of high -standing;' and oh! I am sure I shall blush and act like a fool, and -disgrace myself; and aunt is so particular." - -Nelly condoled, Agnes counselled, and I stood shivering in an agony of -apprehension and dismay, when the heavy tread of Miss Crowen on the -stairs, gave an impetus to my faltering steps, and sent me parlor-wards -with emphasis. - -"If you don't hurry," whispered Agnes. "Miss Crowen will drag you in, -and make one of her horrible speeches about educational advantages and -mental culture, and put you through a course of mathematical problems, -and make you show off on the piano, if not sing." - -The wily Agnes had touched the right chord. Threatened with this new -horror, I grew reckless, and without a moment more of hesitation, bolted -into the parlor, and stood confronting the object of my terror, before I -had had time in the least to prepare my line of conduct. I stood for a -moment with burning cheeks and downcast eyes, unable to articulate a -word, and saw nothing, heard nothing, till I found myself seated on the -sofa, and being talked to in a kind manner by the dreaded stranger, who -sat beside me. If my "Yes sir," and "No sir," came in in the right -places, I can claim no sort of credit for it; for neither then nor now, -had or have I the faintest apprehension of anything he said. By and by, -however, under the influence of that steady unmoved voice, my alarm -began to subside, and my scared senses, after fluttering hopelessly -about, like a dislodged brood of swallows, began at last to collect -themselves again, and resume their proper functions. By degrees I began -to comprehend what he was talking about, and in process of time, -commanded my voice sufficiently to answer him audibly, and before the -interview was over, had the courage to raise my eyes, and satisfy myself -as to the personal appearance of this my destined protector in the three -days' journey we had in prospect. - -And the result of this investigation was, the instant establishment, -upon a firm basis, of ease and confidence. For few men or women, much -less children or girls, ever looked into Mr. Rutledge's face, without -feeling that they saw their master, but withal so firm and kind a -master, that all thought of resistance to his will, or stubborn -maintenance of their own, together with all foolish vanity and -consciousness, vanished at once and forever, or returned but seldom, and -was soon conquered. If I had cherished any romantic hope that this -"accomplished gentleman" might prove anything out of which I could make -that dearest dream of schoolgirl's heart, a lover, I likewise -relinquished that most speedily, for nothing in the person before me, -gave encouragement to such an idea. Rather below than above the medium -size, and of a firm, well-proportioned figure, Mr. Rutledge gave one, -from his commanding and decided carriage, the impression of a much -larger man. His dark hair was slightly dashed with grey, his eyes were -keen and cold, the lines of care and thought about his brow were deep -and strong. If his face could be said to have an attraction, it lay in -the rare smile that sometimes changed the sternness of his mouth into -winning sweetness and grace. But this was so rare that it could hardly -be called a characteristic of his habitually cold stern face. That it -wore it that evening however, I knew then as now, was because I was a -child, and a miserable, frightened one besides. I never doubted that he -knew how I felt, and read me thoroughly. - -The interview was, according to the prim little clock on the -mantelpiece, by no means a long one; and after introducing (with but -indifferent grace) Miss Crowen, who entered the room with elephantine -tread, to my visitor, he took leave, having arranged to come for me the -next morning at six. - -That last evening, with its half-strange, excited novelty of -leave-taking, and last messages and last thoughts, is still distinct in -my memory; and the start with which I answered Biddy's call in the -darkness of the November morning, the dressing with cold hurried hands -that were not half equal to the task, the wild way in which everything -came dancing through my mind, as I tried to say my prayers, the utter -inability to taste a mouthful of the breakfast Miss Crowen herself had -superintended, the thrill with which I heard the carriage drive up to -the door, are as vivid as recollections can well be. And I am in no -danger, either of forgetting the moment, when, with half a dozen of my -schoolfellows who had been allowed to see me off, I descended the steps -toward the carriage, the door of which Mr. Rutledge was holding open. -The kind good bye of Miss Crowen, the warm embraces of the girls, -Nelly's tears, Agnes' wistful look, are memories I cannot part with if I -would. - -The carriage door shut to with a snap, the horses started forward at a -brisk pace, and we were off, and I had left school and childhood behind -me forever. I did not cry at all, though I felt desperately like it; but -the consciousness that Mr. Rutledge looked sharply at me to see how I -took it, made me struggle harder to keep back my tears, and seem womanly -and composed. In this I succeeded beyond my hopes, and before half an -hour had passed, the bracing air of the fine autumn morning, the rapid -pace at which we rolled along, and the new delight to my cloistered -eyes, of farms, and villages, woods rich in the many colors of the fall, -and meadows and uplands basking in its sunshine, made me feel as if I -had been months away from school, and as if the melancholy of last night -were some strange distant dream. Seventeen never dreamed more fantastic -dreams than I did that morning, however, as I leaned back in the -carriage and idly watched the gay landscape past which we were hurrying. -It was quite a relief to me that my companion, after attending to my -comfort in every necessary way, settled himself in his corner of the -carriage, and taking a book from his valise, devoted himself to its -perusal, and left me to my own thoughts the entire morning. He did not -put it up till we reached the town where we were to dine and wait for -the cars. - -Dinner did not prove a very animated meal; my companion, after asking me -about school, and whether I felt sorry to leave it, and a few more -questions of the same nature (such as people always put to school-girls, -and by which they unconsciously give great offence), seemed to consider -his conversational duty performed, and fell into a state of abstraction, -which made his face look harder and colder than ever; and as I -stealthily regarded him from under my eyelashes, some of last night's -alarm threatened to return. But I tried to overcome it, and endeavored -to reassure myself by remembering how kind he was when I was so much -embarrassed, and how well he had helped me through the interview that he -might have made so terrible; and that he did not talk to me--why, -certainly it was not strange that a gentleman of his age should not have -much in common with a girl of mine. - -By and by the cars came tearing through the town with a whoop and a -shriek, that seemed to excite everybody wonderfully, considering the -frequency of the occurrence. Passengers, porters, newsboys, in one mad -crowd, rushed toward the depot, each emulating in his own proper person, -the noble rage of the snorting, impatient monster, upon whose energy we -were all depending. The only individual entirely unexcited, was my -escort, who never for a moment lost the appearance of sang froid and -indifference that an earthquake would not have startled him out of, I -was convinced. Though we did not hurry, we were, before many of our -fellow-voyagers, in possession of the best seats, and most commodiously, -because most deliberately, settled for the journey. Mr. Rutledge was -emphatically a good traveller, carrying the clear-sighted precision and -deliberation of his mind into all the details of travel, and thereby -securing himself from the petty annoyances that people often think -unworthy of attention, but which do more than they suspect, toward -marring pleasure and destroying comfort. I aptly followed his manner, -and was a marvel of unconcerned deliberation in the matter of securing -my seat and arranging my shawls, books and bags; which drew from him the -remark, with an approving glance, that he perceived I was used to -travelling. That observation, either from the fact of its being so -absurdly incorrect in its premises, or from the stronger fact of its -being the only one addressed to me until 7 P.M., when we stopped at -F---- for purposes of refreshment, impressed itself very much upon my -mind. - -After the wretched meal, called by compliment tea, which we were allowed -twenty minutes to partake of, had been dispatched, and we were again -settled in the cars in which we were to travel all night, commenced the -trials of the journey--to me, at least, for I was an entire novice, not -having been twenty miles away from St. Catharine's since I was first -taken there, and having but a dim recollection of that, my first and -last journey till the present time. Being also subject to the most -unbearably severe headaches upon any unusual excitement, it is not very -wonderful that on this occasion I was attacked with one, and before -night had actually set in, was as completely miserable, as in the -morning I had been completely happy. Excitement and weariness began to -tell most painfully upon me. Not a bone but ached, not a nerve in my -whole body but throbbed and quivered. It was as impossible to think -quietly as to sit quietly. Homesickness, for the home I had been longing -to get away from for five years--all the miserable things I had ever -suffered or dreaded--all the fancied and real trials of my life, then -and there beset my aching head, and made sleep or composure an -impossibility. - -If there had been a soul to speak to, a human voice to say a single word -of sympathy, however commonplace, I thought it would have made the night -endurable. But among the sleepy, senseless crowd around, the only one I -had a right to expect attention from, or to whom I was entitled to -address a word, was as regardless of my existence as any of the rest. -Mr. Rutledge occupied the seat before me, and the imperfect light of the -lamp that rattled and flickered above us, showed me more plainly than -any other object, his fixed, unsympathizing face, as he leaned against -the window of the car, his lips compressed and his brow knit. He did not -sleep any more than I did, nor do I think he was a whit more -comfortable; but he had his impatience under better control, and never -moved a muscle or uttered a sound for hours together. - -It was the most torturing thing to watch him, so entirely unmoved by the -discomforts that were, I was firmly convinced, driving me mad; and in my -jaundiced eyes, his profile took a thousand wizard shapes. It would have -been a relief if he had moved in ever so slight a degree to one side or -the other; but a painted face upon a painted window could not have been -more rigid than the one before me. I was dying of thirst, was smothering -for want of air, ached in every limb, and there were hours yet to -morning! The monotonous motion of the cars, and their accompanying -noises, harsh and shrill, made to my perfectly unaccustomed ear a -frightful combination of discord; and this all coming upon my excited -and sensitive nerves, worked me up into a state of wretchedness that -naturally resulted in that climax of woes feminine, a fit of crying. - -I could no more have helped it than the wind could have helped blowing, -and never having learned to control myself, could not suppress the -indulgence of an emotion which, an hour afterward, I remembered with -acute mortification. I tried to smother my sobs, but they reached at -last the ear of my silent companion, who started, and turning toward me, -asked, with a shade of impatience in his tone, what was the matter? Was -I ill? - -That question, so put, in the indescribable tone that shows to a -sensitive ear a want of sympathy the most galling, was the best cure -that could have been devised for my tears. They were done, altogether; -but in their place, the angry blood flew to my face, and I inly vowed, -in accordance with school-girl notions of right, never to forget or -forgive the insult. Angrily averting my head, I declined any assistance -or attention whatever, and pride having thus stepped in to the rescue, -I was able to maintain as rigid a demeanor as Mr. Rutledge himself. For -a moment he looked at me with an expression that I could not quite make -out, then with the slightest possible shrug of the shoulders, turned -away, and seating himself again in the corner, resumed his former -attitude. That was enough; all my spirit was roused; I had always been -good at hating, but the present crisis brought out powers I had never -been aware of before; and there was a great deal in the fact of my -having made a fool of myself in the presence of Mr. Rutledge, to help me -along in detesting him; and not being in a particularly reasonable or -well-governed frame of mind, the aversion I had conceived increased with -alarming rapidity. It was wonderful how powerful my resentment was to -keep my weariness and impatience in check. I did not move an inch nor -utter a single word; I would have borne the rack and torture rather than -exhibit, after that shrug, another shade of emotion. - -When at last, morning being broadly awake, we were released from our -prison for an hour to breakfast and rest at a way-station that seemed -most utterly repugnant to those two ideas, Mr. Rutledge asked me if I -would not prefer, on account of my fatigue, waiting there till the next -train, which would arrive at noon? - -I answered, "_Decidedly_ not," with so much emphasis, that he only bowed -and turned away; with what opinion of my temper it is not pleasant to -think. Before the day was over, he had, I presume, concluded, that he -had taken under his charge about as willful and disagreeable a young -miss as ever tried the patience of parent or protector. - -The day wore on, much after the manner of yesterday. That night at -twelve, we expected to arrive at C---- where we were to rest till -morning; and thence taking the boat, were to reach our journey's end -about noon. - -It was toward evening of that weary day; I was sitting listlessly -looking out upon the dreary suburbs of the town which we seemed -approaching, and thinking, by way of diverting myself, of Nelly and -Agnes and school, and what they were doing now, and whether they missed -me; when there came a sudden jar, then a horrid crash, a shriek that -rent the air, a blow upon my head that made a hideous glare of light, -then darkness absolute, and I knew no more. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - - "The brightest rainbows ever play - Above the fountains of our tears." - -MACKAY. - - -How long after it was that consciousness returned, I cannot tell; if -indeed that bewildered dizzy realization of things present that -gradually forced itself upon me, can be called consciousness. I was -lying on the ground, and looked, upon opening my eyes, up at the clear -evening sky. It could not have been long after sunset, and all the scene -around me, when at last I tried to comprehend it, was distinct enough. -Some distance from where I lay, there was a bridge and an embankment, -perhaps thirty feet high. Between that and me, a horrid mass loomed up -against the sky, black and shapeless, one car piled above another in an -awful wreck. Dark figures lay around me on the ground, some writhing in -agony, others motionless and rigid; groans and cries the most appalling -smote my ear. But my ear and all my senses were so stunned and -bewildered, that to see and hear was not to feel alarm or awe or pity, -only dull stupor and discomfort. I did not feel the least desire to move -or speak, the least solicitude about my fate. Half unconsciously I lay -watching the fading light in the sky, and the dark figures that soon -were swarming around, bending over and raising up the wounded, and -thrusting lanterns into the faces of such as lay stiff and still and did -not heed their ejaculations. - -At last two men came up to where I lay, and one, from the exclamation of -recognition he made as they bent over me, I knew to be Mr. Rutledge. The -effect of the lantern glaring so suddenly in my face, was to make me -start up, with some broken exclamation; but the words had hardly left -my lips, when an acute pain and then a giddy blindness rushed over me, -and I sunk back, and with a horrible sensation of falling down, down, to -unfathomable darkness, I was again insensible. - -I suppose I must have remained in that state all night, for it was -daylight when I was again sufficiently conscious to know what was going -on around me. Mr. Rutledge was sitting by me and was saying to the -physician, whose entrance had, I think, first aroused me, that he -considered me doing very well, the fever was evidently abating, and that -he thought the doctor would agree with him that I might soon be moved to -more comfortable quarters. - -"If any such can be found," the doctor answered; "but every house in the -town, as well as both the hotels, are crowded with the sufferers, and I -think your chance of comfort is as good here as it will be anywhere -else; for, sir, it is a wretched little town at the best. I wish we -could boast better accommodations for strangers." - -"Then doctor," said Mr. Rutledge, "I am sure you will consent to what I -have been thinking of as the most feasible plan. You know it is but -eight miles to Norbury, and my country place is only three miles beyond. -The house, to be sure, is closed for the winter; I little expected to be -visiting it so soon. But there are several servants in it, and it can -quickly be made comfortable, and Mrs. Roberts, my housekeeper, is an -excellent nurse. Don't you agree with me that any or all of these -reasons are sufficient to make it wise to try to get there as soon as -possible? For it is not going to be any joke to stay in this dingy place -for a fortnight, and that child will not be fit to travel any sooner; -and this arm of mine does not feel much like bearing the motion of those -accursed cars again very soon." - -Mr. Rutledge's arm was bound up, and an occasional expression of pain -crossed his face, though that was the only time he alluded to it. The -doctor made an unequivocal opposition to Mr. Rutledge's proposition, and -raised innumerable objections to it, all of which he quietly put aside -and overruled. It was easy to see who would carry the day; but the -doctor did not give over for a long while. When at length he had been -unwillingly brought to say that it _might_ do no harm to be moved in the -course of the morning to Rutledge, he started another unanswerable -objection--a suitable vehicle could not be obtained in the town for love -or money, he declared. - -"I will manage that," said Mr. Rutledge, and left the room. - -The doctor shook his head as the door closed, and said, partly to -himself, and partly to the woman who seemed to be officiating as nurse: - -"He goes at his own risk; it may do or it may not." - -"He's a gentleman what's used to doing as he wants to, I guess," -remarked the woman, "and don't think any too much of other people's -opinions." - -"You are very correct," said the doctor, with importance. "A little -learning is a dangerous thing, and Mr. Rutledge knows just enough of -medicine to be confident of his own judgment. I only hope his imprudence -may not be visited upon this poor child. So young!" he continued, -shaking his head. - -The woman shook hers, and looked at him with reverence, while he went on -to describe my case at great length, and in such alarmingly long words, -that I was in danger of being frightened back into a high fever, had not -the return of Mr. Rutledge saved me from any further display of Dr. -Sartain's scientific knowledge. - -Mr. Rutledge saw in a moment the state of the case, for he looked at me -attentively as he came in, and I heard him mutter in a low tone as he -felt my pulse, "This won't do." Then aloud, he told the doctor that the -carriage he had been fortunate enough to engage would be at the door in -about an hour and a half, and that he would not detain him any longer -at present, but would recommend his taking a little rest, for he should -be obliged to ask him to accompany his patient during the drive; it -would be safer, he thought, and as he could return in the carriage, it -would involve no great loss of time; though he well knew Dr. Sartain -could hardly spare a moment from the demands of his extensive practice, -etc. - -The doctor, somewhat mollified, consented and retired. Mr. Rutledge then -sent the woman off, and telling me, cheerfully and kindly, that I was -doing very nicely, and that he thought a little sleep would strengthen -me for the journey, darkened the windows, and throwing himself into an -easy-chair, seemed inclined to set me the example. The lounge or settee -on which I was placed, had been made as comfortable as the circumstances -would permit, but still was painfully far from easy; and I tossed about, -excited and restless, for some time. But, gradually reassured by Mr. -Rutledge's quiet composure and cheerfulness, and soothed by the -stillness of the room, I fell into a very refreshing sleep. - -It was about noon when we started, the doctor being in the carriage with -me, Mr. Rutledge, I am sorry to remember, going in a much less -comfortable vehicle. It did not trouble me seriously at the time, -however. Dr. Sartain's opinion to the contrary notwithstanding, I was by -no means injured by the ride, and when we drove under the gateway that -conveyed to my listless intellect the knowledge that we had reached -Rutledge, besides a little increased languor and weariness, I felt no -worse than when we left the town. - -Mr. Rutledge, who was in advance, reached the house first, and in a -moment the excitement that our arrival had produced became apparent; two -or three maids rushed out from a side-door as Mr. Rutledge ascended the -steps, and, overcome with alarm at the sight of two carriages, and their -master with his arm in a sling, rushed back again wringing their hands, -and displaying many symptoms of consternation. Mr. Rutledge in the mean -time had entered the house, and soon appeared at the door accompanied by -a tall, elderly woman, in a black bombazine dress, and a lace cap with -white ribbons, to whom he was explaining, in a concise and forcible -manner, the state of affairs, and what was to be done. They came down to -the carriage, and Mr. Rutledge introduced "Mrs. Roberts" to the doctor -and to me, and then assisting me to alight, we ascended the broad stone -steps to the piazza, and thence into a wide hall. - -Mr. Rutledge told the housekeeper that it would, he thought, be best for -me to go immediately up to her room, where I could lie on the sofa till -my apartment could be made ready. - -Accordingly I went upstairs, and took possession of Mrs. Roberts' sofa -and Mrs. Roberts' room, both sombre and stiff enough, but infinitely -more easy and prepossessing than the lady herself. I cannot imagine that -at that very early stage of our acquaintance, she could have entertained -any personal resentment toward me, and yet I was entirely possessed of -that belief from the first moment that I saw her. But I have since -discovered that she invariably impressed all strangers with a similar -conviction, and from that, and from subsequent knowledge of her -character, I have concluded that it was merely "a way she had," and was -by no means to be regarded as an expression of her sentiments toward any -one. Unhappily, I did not have this light upon her, and soon began to -feel myself in the hands of a grim tyrant, whose only motive in -exertions made ostensibly for my benefit, was to get possession of me, -soul and body, and render, me, if possible, more wretched than she found -me. - -I lay quietly on the sofa where she had placed me, with no ungentle hand -to be sure, but without the slightest relaxing of her blue lips, or the -smallest indication of pity in her uncompromising eyes; and watched her -as she pursued her plan of operations, steadily and energetically. She -certainly knew what she was about, and for precision and promptness must -have been a treasure in Mr. Rutledge's eyes. There was an incredible -amount of work accomplished in that house within the next hour; rooms -were opened, fires were lighted, beds were aired; sounds of sweeping and -dusting and beating of mattresses, filling of pitchers, and crackling of -fires, reached my indolent ears. Mrs. Roberts, standing before a huge -open wardrobe, dealt out sheets, pillow-cases, towels, table-cloths and -napkins to the maids, who bustled about with distressing activity, not -unfrequently goaded on by a few sharp words from their mistress, who -ruled them, I could see, with a rod of iron. The threat, however, that -stirred up their flagging energies most effectually, seemed to be, the -wrath of Mr. Rutledge. I began to feel myself drawn sympathizingly -toward the maids, and could not help wondering whether they were as much -afraid of the master, and as much averse to the mistress of the house as -I was, and whether they wished themselves away as much; and if they did, -why they didn't go; or whether, indeed, people ever got away who once -came in it. The gloom of the great hall, with its broad, stone -staircase, on which the servants' steps echoed drearily, and the dark -glimpses of shut-up rooms that I had caught on my way up, seemed to -favor this latter idea--I would write for my aunt to come for me -immediately; I would ask the doctor to take me back with him. I should -die if they left me in this gloomy place. Perhaps I might die here--who -could tell? The doctor had said I was very ill. - -Tears came but too easily in those foolish days, and burying my -throbbing temples in the pillow, I cried as if my heart would break, or -as if it had indeed broken. My emotion was none the lighter because it -was imaginary, nor none the easier to bear because it was absurd. -Children's troubles and terrors are only less severe than those of -maturer minds, as they are shorter lived; while they last they are, if -possible, more violent and less bearable. And at that time I was, to -all intents and purposes, a child, and a sick, nervous, excited one -besides. - -By and by Mrs. Roberts came up to where I lay motionless with my face -hidden in the pillows, and, leaning over me, said in her chilling tones, -"Are you comfortable? Will you have anything?" - -I did not move. She listened for a moment, then going to the door said -to some one outside: - -"She's asleep, sir, and doing well. You had better take some rest -yourself." - -The door closed, and I suppressed my sobs to listen. In a few minutes -Mrs. Roberts came again to look at me, then noiselessly left the room. I -could endure it no longer, and throwing back the blankets, raised myself -and sat upright. I cried for a long while; every minute the prison -feeling seemed to grow stronger, till at last it drove me to that climax -of desperation which, in actual prisoners, results in knocking down -turnkeys, and (according to the newspapers) doing many frantic and -atrocious acts, to reach "the blessed sun and air," from which they have -been "banned and barred." - -I had reached that climax, I say; I had dried my tears, and sat still, -with clenched hands, some wild plan of escape arranging itself in my -brain, when the door suddenly opened, and Mrs. Roberts reappeared. - -"Oh, you're awake, are you? I'll call the doctor; he's got through -setting Mr. Rutledge's arm, and was just going." - -I hurriedly pushed the hair from my flushed face, and tried to look -composed as the doctor entered with Mrs. Roberts, and followed soon by -Mr. Rutledge, who came, he said, to get the doctor's directions, and to -see if Mrs. Roberts was doing everything for me that I required. The -doctor sat down by me, and taking hold of my wrist, asked me if I felt -better for my sleep. - -Mr. Rutledge, looking at me, said, "Not much sleep, I am afraid. How is -it?" - -I pressed my lips very tight together to keep from crying, and shook my -head. Mrs. Roberts, who did not probably notice the gesture, said, "Oh, -yes, she's slept nicely for three-quarters of an hour." - -Then she and the doctor talked about me as if I were in the next room, -and no way interested in the affair. After many directions given and -received, and many injunctions and much emphasis, the doctor rose to go, -saying that he should not be able to come again until the day after -to-morrow (unless, of course, I should be taken with any unexpected -symptoms); in the mean time he hoped he left me in safe hands (with a -look direct at Mrs. Roberts). Mr. Rutledge smothered a smile, -accompanied him to the door, and parted from him very courteously, then -returned to me. He hoped, he said, that I did not mind trusting myself -to him during the doctor's absence, and Mrs. Roberts would, he knew, -take as good care of me as the doctor himself could. He then went on to -say that he had telegraphed my aunt last evening to prevent her feeling -any alarm on hearing of the accident, and that he had written to her -more fully by mail to-day, telling her of my improvement, and assuring -her that it would not be necessary for her to come on, as I could have -every care here. - -"In two or three weeks," he continued, "I trust you will be perfectly -well and entirely fit to travel." - -Two or three weeks! The thought was too dreadful and bursting into -tears, I exclaimed: - -"I am well enough to go now! I had rather go home with the doctor!" - -Mr. Rutledge was silent for a moment, then sitting down beside me, in -the doctor's vacated seat, said, as if he were speaking to a very little -child: - -"You are not well enough to start now; it might do you a great deal of -harm. Possibly you may be able to go much sooner than the doctor thinks; -only be patient a day or two, and depend upon it, I will let you go the -very minute you can bear it." - -I shook my head and sobbed convulsively. - -"My dear little girl," he said, "you are too nervous now to be -reasonable, but you must try and be quiet and not cry, for that is the -very worst thing for you, and will keep you here longer than anything -else. Your head aches, doesn't it?" - -"Yes, dreadfully," I sobbed. - -"Well, the more you cry, the more it will ache, and the more it aches, -the more fever you will have, and that is just what you must get rid of -before you can be fit to start for home. You will feel very differently, -I assure you, to-morrow morning, after you have had a good night's -sleep." - -"I can't sleep!" I exclaimed. - -"Oh yes, you can! The doctor has left you some powders that will make -that all right, and I will give you one now." - -He mixed it in a glass that Mrs. Roberts had brought for the purpose, -and I drank it, then followed his advice and lay my hot and throbbing -head on the pillow. He sat down again, and continued, speaking -soothingly, and in a manly, kind voice, still as if I were about eight -years old. - -"Your room will be ready in a few moments, and I think you will be more -comfortable there than in this old-fashioned retreat of Mrs. Roberts'. -Hair-cloth and mahogany are rather dismal for sensitive nerves, it must -be acknowledged," glancing with a smile around the apartment. "The room -you are to have is on the other side of the hall, and looks out on the -park, and is quite cheerful and pleasant. And if you do not like to be -alone, Mrs. Roberts shall come and sleep on the sofa by you." - -The expression of my face was probably unmistakable; much as I dreaded -solitude, I dreaded Mrs. Roberts more, and was immensely relieved when -my companion added, "Perhaps, though, on the whole, Kitty had better -come and wait on you. Kitty is one of the maids, and is very pleasant, -and I think you will like her. I will send her to you now. She will give -you your medicine, and sit by you for company. You must send her to me -if there is anything more I can do for you to night. I hope the headache -will all be gone by to-morrow morning." - -And with a few more kind words the master left me, and the maid soon -appeared, whose bright face and cheerful care helped along very -considerably the cure that was already begun. It was a pleasure to be -waited on by Kitty; it was a pleasure to hear her clear young voice and -to be served by her strong young arms. She must, I think, have had -strict orders not to leave me; for after everything in the way of -arranging the pillows and smoothing the blankets, and adjusting -everything in the neighborhood of the sofa, had been accomplished, she -still lingered beside me, asking if I was comfortable, if she shouldn't -get me a glass of water, if I wouldn't like the curtains drawn back a -little, etc. - -Mrs. Roberts, who had returned, was sitting by the window, a huge basket -of work beside her, over which she was straining her eyes, economical of -every ray of the rapidly fading daylight. She was too utilitarian in her -turn of mind to submit quietly to the sight of Kitty's idleness, and -very soon suggested to her that she had better go downstairs to her -work. Kitty said, "Yes ma'am," but didn't go. Again Mrs. Roberts -suggested, and again Kitty cleverly evaded. The third time, the mistress -laid down her work, and any one less stout-hearted than the young person -before her would have trembled at the sharp tone in which she repeated -her order. If it had been addressed to me, I am sure I should have -submitted in trepidation; as it was, I trembled for Kitty, who, however, -was nothing daunted, and turning round, said, in a tone just one remove -from pert: - -"Mr. Rutledge, ma'am, sent me up, and told me to stay with the young -lady, and to wait on her; and, also, he says that's to be my duty while -she's here, ma'am." - -A genuine thundercloud lowered on Mrs. Roberts' face, but a portentous -"Umph" was all the rejoinder she made to this decisive speech. Kitty -reassured me with a little nod, and I quite rejoiced in our apparent -victory. - -Before long, a servant knocked at the door, and announced that my room -was ready. Then succeeded a pleasant bustle and excitement incident to -my removal to it. Kitty insisted upon considering me a perfectly -helpless invalid, and would have carried me, if I had not remonstrated, -and Mrs. Roberts had not sneered at the idea. As it was, she wrapped me -up so that I could hardly move, and supporting me with her arm, preceded -by Mrs. Roberts, we crossed the hall, and stopped at the door of the -apartment assigned to me. - -"Oh, what a pretty room!" I exclaimed, as we entered it. Kitty was -charmed that I liked it, and proceeded with great satisfaction to do the -honors. Wheeling toward me an easy-chair, and settling me in it before -the bright fire that blazed on the hearth, she said with animation: - -"Isn't it a pretty room, miss? I've always said, that though the others -were bigger and finer, there wasn't one that had such a sweet pretty -look about it as the blue room had. It's just fit for a young lady like -you." - -Kitty was not wrong about its being a pretty room; I never saw a -prettier myself. It was not large, but well-proportioned and airy. -Opposite the door there was a bay window, with white curtains trimmed -with blue, and the same at the other two windows. The bed at the end of -the room stood in a recess, curtained in the same manner. The walls were -papered with a delicate blue paper, the wood-work about the room was -oak, and all the furniture was oak and light blue. The carpet, which was -in itself a study, was an arabesque pattern of oak upon a light-blue -ground. The slender vases on the mantel, the pictures in their carved -oak frames, had an inexpressible charm for eyes so long accustomed to -the bare walls and wooden presses of a boarding school dormitory. And -even to a maturer taste, I think it would have been pleasing; for I do -not remember ever to have seen a room more entirely in keeping, and in -which there was less out of place and inharmonious. Indeed, this -impression was so strong, that I involuntarily begged Kitty to put away -my dark plaid shawl, the sight of which, upon the delicate blue sofa, -annoyed me exceedingly; and I thought with satisfaction of a certain -blue morning dress in my trunk, that I could put on to-morrow, by way of -being in keeping with the room. And the white lava pin and earrings, -Agnes' parting gift, which I had never worn yet, and admired beyond -expression, would come in play exactly. - -While Kitty made herself delightfully busy in unpacking my trunk, which -stood in the little dressing-room at the right, and bestowing my modest -wardrobe in the drawers and closets thereof, I lay nestling in the soft -depths of that marvellous Sleepy Hollow of a chair, that holding me -lovingly in its capacious arms, seemed to perform every office of a good -old nurse, even to the singing of lullabies. Though that kind attention, -I think, really emanated from the glowing, merry fire, which sung, -crackled, and blazed most hospitably at my feet. - -The headache that an hour ago had seemed so insupportable, had now -subsided to a dull throbbing that was comparatively ease and comfort; -and to lie there, and look at the fire, and think about nothing, and -speak to nobody, and be sure that Kitty was near me, and Mrs. Roberts -and "the master" very far away, was all I asked or desired. - -This negative sort of bliss found a temporary interruption in the -necessary departure of Kitty to the kitchen, to procure my tea and bring -up candles. I felt rather babyishly about it, and nothing but shame kept -me from telling Kitty that I had rather do without my tea, and go to bed -by firelight, than have her leave me. She did not stay away very long, -however, and the nice cup of tea and crisp thin slice of toast, that -she brought back with her, quite compensated me for the self-denial I -had had to exercise in letting her go. These edibles, Kitty, with all -the pomp and circumstance of war, arranged upon the little table beside -me, placing the tall wax candles in the centre, and distributing the -diminutive pieces of the dainty little tete-a-tete set in the most -advantageous manner. The tea tasted very nicely out of the thin china -cup, that felt like a play-thing when I lifted it, accustomed as I was -to the heavy bluish-white crockery of boarding-school, and though I -lacked the vigorous appetite, that had made the primitive meals of that -establishment enjoyable, still, the delicate food before me had a -decided relish. Kitty very much enjoyed my appreciation of it, and was -very sorry she could not go down and bring me another slice of toast, -but Mr. Rutledge had said I must not have any more. - -"I couldn't eat any more, thank you," I said, rather haughtily, though -Mr. Rutledge, and not the kind Kitty, inspired the hauteur. Mrs. Roberts -made us a call soon after this, and said it was high time I went to bed, -and told Kitty sharply, she knew it was her work, keeping me up so long, -and hurried up the preparations for retiring, with energy. Kitty looked -saucy, but did not dare to rebel, and only indulged in defiance after -the door was closed behind the intruder. She again returned, however, on -a final tour of inspection, after I was comfortably arranged in the fair -white delicious bed, that seemed to be a special partner of tired -nature's sweet restorer, who was good for any amount on its demand. She -"poked in every corner" as Kitty expressed it, and found a dozen things -to object to in her arrangements, pulled open drawers, and set Kitty -poutingly at work to settle them properly, and made my temples throb -again with alarm lest she should find something objectionable among my -clothes, some rent in my school frock, or an undarned stocking smuggled -through the vigilant scrutiny of last week's wash. She sent Kitty for -her mattress and blankets, and superintended the arrangement of them, -though I could see she did not enter cordially into the plan; but as Mr. -Rutledge had ordered that Kitty should sleep beside me, I was sure she -would not dare to oppose it. - -At last there was no excuse for a longer tarry, and she withdrew; Kitty, -with a triumphant gesture, slid the bolt upon her, and we "settled our -brains for a long winter's nap." A nap not altogether uninterrupted on -my part, by troubled dreams, and sudden starts, and foolish fears; but -my waking was always met by Kitty's ready care and soothing sympathy; -and toward morning quieted into a long refreshing sleep. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - - - "O Time! thou must untangle this, not I, - 'Tis too hard a knot for me to untie." - - -When I awoke, it was to the pleasant reality of morning and sunshine, -that had found their way through the light curtains of my pleasant room, -and made it pleasanter than ever. Kitty was at my side in an instant, -and a brighter fresher face to greet one's waking vision could not be -desired. She managed, by prompt and clever measures, to keep off Mrs. -Roberts till I had had my breakfast, and risen and been dressed. It was -matter of great astonishment to me to find myself so absurdly weak, my -strength and spirits at school having passed into a proverb. This sudden -illness had reduced me extremely, however, as I found whenever I -attempted any exertion, and all Kitty's services were required. - -While she was dressing me, she chatted very confidentially, though -always with a tone of deference that counterbalanced the liberty she -took in talking at all. Our distaste for Mrs. Roberts was potent in -putting us on as good terms as young lady and young lady's maid could -well be, and there is a sort of freemasonry in youth that sets at -defiance the restrictions of rank, and that drew us, the two youngest -things in the stately old house, together, naturally and irresistibly. - -I call it an old house, because it impressed me at first as such. It was -solid and dark, and excepting my room and one or two others on the same -floor, had very little that was light and modern-looking about it. It -had been built, Kitty said, in the time of Mr. Rutledge's father, and -was called the finest house in the country. Loads of money, she -informed me, he had spent upon it; workmen had been sent for, hundreds -of miles, to do the carving and paint the walls, and no money and no -labor was spared to make it a fine place, and indeed there was none like -it anywhere around; and now to think of its being shut up like a prison -half the year, and sometimes all the year; it was a shame, Kitty -thought, upon her honor it was. - -I asked her why Mr. Rutledge did not live there? - -She did not know; she supposed it was lonesome; he never stayed home for -over a couple of months, and then would be off, for no one knew how -long. Sometimes he went to Europe, and was gone two or three years at a -time. And such dull times as it was _then_ at Rutledge, if you please! -Nobody but Mrs. Roberts, and the cook, and dairy-woman, besides the farm -hands. Nothing to do but stand Mrs. Roberts' preaching from morning till -night. She only wished she'd lived in the old times that her father -talked about, when Rutledge was the gayest of the gay. (Her father, she -explained, had been gardener there for thirty years, and had lived on -the place from a boy.) Such fine doings! Ah! if Mr. Rutledge would only -take it into his head to have such times now! It was when he was very -young, and Mr. Richard and Miss Alice, and there was nothing but balls -and picnics and pleasure-parties all the time, company staying in the -house, and visitors from the neighborhood for miles around. Ah! it was -mighty different now! - -"What has become of the others? Is Mr. Rutledge the only one left?" - -Mr. Rutledge, Kitty told me, was the youngest of the three. Mr. Richard -died when he was just twenty-four--a month after his father--and so Mr. -Rutledge came into the property when he was a mere lad. - -"But the daughter, Alice, what became of her?" - -"I don't know exactly," said Kitty, lowering her voice, and looking -anxiously toward the door. "They never talk about her; something must -have happened very strange, for there's always a mystery about Miss -Alice. The old servants on the place will never say a word about her; -and though I've teased father again and again, I never could get -anything out of him." - -"But, Kitty," I exclaimed eagerly, my curiosity thoroughly excited, -"what makes you think she isn't dead?" - -"Oh! that much I know, that she didn't die then, and that she didn't die -at home in this house, and isn't buried there below in the churchyard by -the others; and I know she was away when old Mr. Rutledge died; because -once father said it was an awful thing, when he lay so ill, and out of -his head, to hear him call upon her to come home. All that night before -he died, he would call 'Alice! Alice!' till you could hear it all over -the house. And father says," continued the girl, in a still lower tone, -"that sometimes of wild dark nights, when he's coming past the house -late from his work, he could swear for all the world that he hears the -old man still calling 'Alice! Alice!' till it makes his blood freeze to -listen to it. And then, when I say 'Where was she, father, all the time, -and why didn't she come to him?' he always says, 'that's not for the -like of you to hear about; it's none of your business, child, nor mine,' -and sends me off about something else." - -"But, Kitty," I persisted, "is that all you know of her? Tell me all -you've ever heard; was she pretty?" - -"Oh, so pretty! You can't think how white her skin was, and her eyes -like violets, so large and blue, and curls all over her head--loose, -shiny curls." - -"How do you know," I said quickly; "surely you never saw her, did you?" - -Kitty blushed and stammered, and said, "No, not exactly; but there was -something she had seen she'd never told anybody about; she didn't know -whether she ought to;" but the result was, she at last imparted to me -the following: - -When Kitty was about twelve years old, it appeared, from her account, -the demon of curiosity was stronger in her even than it was now, and her -keen young eyes had detected long before that time, what had escaped -many maturer observers, viz., that at the end of the upper hall there -was a room, that was ignored in all descriptions of the house, and might -well, indeed, have been overlooked. A huge wardrobe stood in the middle -of the space between the corner room on the east, and the corner room on -the west, of the hall; and none but a very inquiring mind like Kitty's -would have investigated the exact dimensions of these rooms, whether -they met and were separated but by a partition, or whether a distinct -room, the width of the hall, and corresponding to Mr. Rutledge's -dressing-room at the opposite end, existed between them. Kitty crept -down on the lawn and looked up on the outside, and discovered a large -window, the shutters of which were closed and dusty; and on exploring -the corner rooms, they corroborated her suspicions--they did not extend -across the hall. Behind that wardrobe, Kitty knew, then, existed a door; -and night and day the insane desire to penetrate beyond it, haunted the -child. - -At length, circumstances seemed to favor the fulfillment of her wishes. -It was a beautiful, mild May day, and the untiring energy of Mrs. -Roberts was enjoying a full swing in the pursuit of her favorite -_divertissement_ of house-cleaning. Doors and windows were thrown open; -all manner of scouring and scrubbing was going on in all parts of the -house. Step-ladders and water-pails graced the hall; the odor of -soap-suds and lime filled the air. Serene amid the confusion, Mrs. -Roberts applied herself to the overlooking and rearranging the identical -wardrobe in the hall, that had so long been the fascination and torment -of little Kitty, who, it may well be supposed, was "on hand" during the -operation. Demure and useful, she made herself very officious in -assisting Mrs. Roberts in her labors, standing, for hours together, to -be loaded with the heavy piles of rich old curtains from the shelves, -faded long ago, and antiquated table-covers, heavy Marseilles coverlets, -that must have made the sleepers of old time ache to turn over under; -great packages folded up in linen, through the ends of which Kitty's -eager eyes caught glimpses of satin and brocade, and the tarnished -buttons of military clothes. Kitty never thought of her aching arms, or -her tired little feet; she never took her eyes away, and never lost a -movement of Mrs. Roberts, nor a sight of anything before her; and after -dinner, following like a kitten at the housekeeper's heels, came back to -the fascinating business of disinterring the faded glories of the past. - -By three o'clock, the shelves were all emptied and the drawers all taken -out; and Mrs. Roberts was just beginning the important business of -dusting and wiping them, and restoring their precious contents, when a -man from the fields came posting up to the house in the greatest haste, -with the intelligence that a pair of the farm-horses had run away, and -done no end of damage to themselves and to the man who was driving them, -who was now lying below the barn in a state of insensibility, and Mrs. -Roberts' assistance was instantly required. It was not a case that -admitted of a demur, and the housekeeper bustled off, leaving Kitty with -orders to stay where she was, and take care of the things left about -till she came back, and, taking the only woman who was upstairs with -her, left Kitty in possession of the field. - -She did not mean to move the wardrobe, but it was so natural just to try -how heavy it was, and if it would really stir! And to her surprise and -guilty pleasure, the wardrobe, lightened of its weighty contents, -yielded to her touch, and moved a little--a very little--way forward; -but enough to show to her eager eyes, in the dark wood-work, a door, -over which generations of painstaking spiders had spun their webs -unchecked, and where the scourge of Mrs. Roberts' eye had failed, or -feared to penetrate. Kitty, holding her breath for fear, turned the -knob; it resisted; it was locked, of course, possibly on the outside, -and the key might have been taken out. An expedient struck the child's -fertile brain; and she darted across the hall, and, possessing herself -of the key of the corresponding room, darted back again and applied it -to the lock. It fitted, and turned in it; the knob yielded to her eager -grasp, and, too near the completion of her wishes now to pause, she -wound her lithe figure through the narrow aperture, and pushing open the -door, stood within the mysterious room! For a moment, Kitty's heart beat -quick; an awe crept over her; for a moment she longed to be out in the -sunshine again. But her elastic spirits and indomitable curiosity soon -triumphed over the transitory dread inspired by the darkness and -solemnity of the deserted chamber, and the close, dead atmosphere, and -the unearthly stillness; and, gaining courage every moment, she made her -way, with what caution she might, toward the window, undid the -fastening, and, pushing up a very little way the heavy sash, turned the -blind, and let in a ray of God's blessed sunlight, dim and dull enough, -though, through the dusty panes, into this strange room, deserted these -many, many years, it would seem, both of God and man. Kitty was a bold -child, little given to nervousness or timidity, or she would have shrunk -in terror from the weird, fantastic shadows that the dim light showed -about the room. But that was not Kitty's way; and, sitting down on a -divan by the window, she rested her elbows on her knees and her chin -upon her hands, in contemplative fashion, and proceeded to look about -her. - -What a strange sight it must have been! the slow sunbeam creeping over -the faded carpet, and lighting up the dust-covered furniture and the -dusky walls. Kitty's glance first turned, naturally enough, to the bed, -which, richly curtained and spacious, stood on the left of the door. The -curtains were swept back and the bed was made, but it was apparent that -some one had occupied it, lying on the outside; the pillows were -displaced and crushed, and the coverlet was deranged. That, since the -occupation of that _some one_, the room had never been arranged or -touched, seemed evident, from the confusion and disorder that prevailed. -The door of the wardrobe on the right was partly open, and a dress was -hanging out from it. A shawl, faded beyond recognition, hung upon the -chair near Kitty, and at her feet lay a slipper--such a slim, pretty -little slipper! while on the toilette table, you could have sworn, a -hasty hand had just dropped the stopper in that odor-bottle, and pushed -back the glove-box that stood open under the glass. - -Pins rusted in the embroidered cushion; dust inch thick on the mirror -and over all, told of a dreary space since any human face had been -reflected there. Upon a little table by the window stood a work-box and -some books, and in a slender vase, the ghosts of some flowers that fell -to dust at Kitty's touch. But what most excited her wonder, was a -picture, that, with its face to the wall, was placed on the floor near -the door. It evidently did not belong to the furniture of the room, and -had been put there hastily, and to be out of the way. Kitty surveyed it -from her seat curiously, and at last crept up to it, and turned it -around, then slipping down on the carpet before it, was soon lost in -admiration of the lovely face it presented to her. - -The lustre of the dark-blue eyes, and the delicate outline of the oval -face, from which large wavy curls of fair hair were pushed back with -girlish freedom, stamped themselves indelibly upon Kitty's retentive -memory. It must have been an odd sight; the eager child, in that dark, -uncanny room, upon her hands and knees before the picture, watching it -in utter fascination, forgetful of the passing moments, and of all save -the sweet face so strangely banished from the light. - -But the heavy shutting of the hall door, and the sound of voices in the -hall below, put a sudden period to these fancies, and brought her to -her feet with a desperate start and a pang of genuine fear. This was a -tangible terror, and as such, Kitty's common sense succumbed to it. With -nervous haste, she restored the picture, flew across the room and drew -down the window, and made the best of her way back toward the door. But -in her haste, her feet became entangled in something, and tripping up, -in an instant she lay at full length on the floor. She disengaged her -feet from the impediment that had caused her fall; it was a long ribbon, -and a locket was attached to it; hastily thrusting them into her bosom, -she picked herself up, and sprang toward the door. Steps were already -mounting the stairs; a voice she knew too well was already audible; the -unused lock grated and creaked cruelly under the nervous hands that -struggled with it; but, with the strength of terror, she mastered it at -last--locked it, dropped the key in her pocket, slipped through the -narrow space between the wall and the wardrobe, with an eager push -restored the latter to its place, and before Mrs. Roberts reached the -landing, stood, a pallid, trembling, but undetected culprit, among the -piles of valuables she had been left to guard. The habitual darkness of -that end of the hall, increased by the near approach of twilight, -screened her white cheeks from the scrutiny of Mrs. Roberts' searching -eyes, and the haste that lady was in to restore the wardrobe to its -ancient and uninterrupted order, further favored her escape. - -But she fully paid the penalty of her crime--she acknowledged, in the -dread she felt lest it should be discovered, and the unaccustomed alarm -she endured, when on dark nights, her ruthless mistress sent her -candleless to bed; and she, with suspended breath and strained ear, -would creep past the mysterious chamber to her own little loft above, to -lie whole hours awake and trembling. Her fertile imagination had -supplied the wanting links in the chain of fact; and the fair-haired -Alice, the banished daughter of the house, was her dream of beauty by -day and her haunting terror by night. - -"But Kitty," I exclaimed, breathlessly, "does no one else know of the -room? Does no one ever go in it?" - -"Oh yes! Mrs. Roberts must know of it, for she lived here long before -the present Mr. Rutledge was master; she knows all the family secrets, -I'll warrant. But neither she nor any one else ever troubles _that_ -room, I'm pretty sure. I've watched it close enough, and the wardrobe -never has been stirred since that day I did it, six years ago last -spring. Hardly any one goes to that end of the hall; the corner rooms -are shut up and not used, and Mr. Rutledge's own rooms, and Mrs. -Roberts', and this one for visitors, being all on this side of the -house, there's very little occasion for anybody to go near the others in -the rear." - -"What was in the locket you picked up?" I asked. - -"It was a miniature, tied by a long narrow blue ribbon, and that night, -when I got upstairs, I bolted the door and looked at it; it was the -picture of a gentleman, young and so"---- - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - - - "The deeds we do, the words we say-- - Into still air they seem to fleet: - We count them ever past-- - But they shall last-- - In the dread judgment they - And we shall meet!" - -LYRA INNOCENTIUM. - - -But our antiquarian researches were brought to a sudden conclusion by -the appearance of Mrs. Roberts at the door, whose cold eye seemed to -say, she comprehended at a glance that we were in mischief, and no -effort should be wanting on her part to thwart our further confidence. -That much she _looked_, the following she said: - -"Mr. Rutledge desires to know how the young lady is, and whether she is -ready to see him?" - -"She'll be ready in one minute," said Kitty, hurrying nervously the -retarded business of arranging my hair. Mrs. Roberts stationed herself -at the fire, and threefold increased Kitty's nervousness, and my -trepidation, by the stony gaze she fixed upon us. At last, however, the -operation was concluded, and Kitty helped me to the sofa, and regulated -the light from the window, put away my dressing-gown, and gave the last -touches to the room; while Mrs. Roberts looked on sardonically, and then -told Kitty to go and call her master. I had hoped this order of things -would have been reversed, and that Mrs. Roberts herself would have gone -to summon my dreaded visitor, leaving me a moment's time to recover my -composure, under the genial influence of Kitty's sturdy courage, which -to do her justice, she had not long been disarmed of. As it was, the -housekeeper's efforts at conversation were not of an enlivening -character, her first remark being, "that Kitty was much of a -chatter-box, and she should speak to the master to give her altogether -downstairs work to do, where there would be nobody to be hindered or -bothered by her tattle." - -I tried to remonstrate, but, for my life, could not say an audible word, -and nervous and trembling to an absurd degree, I listened for the -approaching footsteps in the hall. The door opened, and Mr. Rutledge -entered. Walking up to me in his firm quick way, he said, extending his -left hand: - -"Well, my young friend, and how's the headache?" I stammered something -about its being better, while he sat down beside me, and with wonderful -tact and patience, tried to amuse and draw me into conversation. - -Now it was an inexplicable thing to me at that time, that I, who had -never known the first emotions of awe before, in presence even of the -imposing dignitaries of St. Catharine's--I who had pulled the wool alike -over the eyes of governesses and professors--I, who had enjoyed, if ever -any did in that establishment, the privilege of doing as I pleased, by -reason of the inability of anybody to prevent me--that I should, I say, -be so utterly subdued and humble, before this quiet stranger, was an -inexplicable thing to me. - -I had yet to learn, that those, clothed in a little brief authority, and -holding temporary sway over young minds and wills, are not always and -inevitably so far exalted, in intellect and in character, above those -they are supposed to govern, as were to be wished, and as they sincerely -desire to appear. Narrow-minded pedantry and injudicious ignorance often -rush in, to responsibilities and duties that angels might well tremble -to assume--the moulding for good or evil, the flexile souls of children -during the most vital years of their lives. - -Be this as it may, I quailed for the first time before a superior, and -not without a stubborn feeling of resistance, owned myself in the -presence of one I feared. I suppose I must have looked very childish, -with my hair brushed down simply and knotted low on my neck, and a tiny -linen collar turned over my plain blue merino frock; the lava pin and -earrings having been unavoidably omitted in the hasty completion of my -toilette. These circumstances of dress, I comforted myself, might -account in part for the manner in which Mr. Rutledge continued to treat -me, and which was very galling to my pride, for being at the most -sensitive period of adolescence, nothing could have been more humbling -than to be regarded as childish and immature. Such considerations did -not add to my ease of manner, or grace of deportment, and all Mr. -Rutledge's well-selected topics of conversation fell to the ground for -want of a sustaining power on my side. At last relinquishing the -attempt, he turned to Mrs. Roberts, and gave her minute instructions in -regard to my medicine and diet, felt my pulse, and pronounced me very -much improved; but he judged it, he said, very much better for me to lie -on the sofa pretty quietly all day. Perhaps by to-morrow, I might be -well enough to come downstairs for a little while, he continued, looking -attentively at me, to see, I suppose, how I bore the intelligence of my -prolonged captivity. He did not see any expression of impatience in my -face, however, firstly, because I did not feel any, and secondly, -because, if I had, I would have concealed it to-day. He rose to go, -first turning toward the bay window, where he stood for some minutes -thoughtfully, attracted by the beauty of the landscape it overlooked. - -"After all," he said at length, addressing Mrs. Roberts more than me, -and his own thoughts, perhaps, more than either, "the view of the lake -is finer from this window than from any other in the house. The slope of -the lawn is beautiful, and that opening in the pine grove on the left, -through which you see up to the head of the lake, is very fine. Mrs. -Roberts," abruptly, "do you remember when that opening was cut?" - -"Yes sir," said Mrs. Roberts (she was never known to have forgotten -anything), "it was during Mrs. Rutledge, your mother's last illness; she -sat a great deal in that window, and your father had it cut to suit her -fancy. I remember the very morning that the workmen began it; she was so -interested, and quite tired herself with watching them, and sending them -orders." - -"Ah! I think I remember something of it. I must have been"---- - -"Just eight years old, sir," said Mrs. Roberts with precision. "She died -the next spring, when Mr. Richard was in his sixteenth year; there was -just four years between you and"---- - -"Yes, I know." - -A dark frown contracted his brow; a forbidding compression of the lips -renewed the dread that had begun to lessen under his patient kindness. -During the five minutes that he stood thus by the window, we were, I -suppose, as entirely forgotten as one of us, at least, desired to be. -The trivial Present fell back into insignificance and oblivion before -the iron domination of some stern memory, that touched with ruthless -hand, his tenderest affection, that humbled his pride, and baffled his -indomitable will. This much I could see, in the restless light of his -dark eye, as it wandered over the familiar scene; child as I was, I -could not but see the suffering in his face. At last, with an effort, he -threw off the tyrant memory, and abruptly turning, quitted the room. -Something almost as human as a sigh escaped from Mrs. Roberts' blue -lips, as his steps echoed across the hall, and his door closed heavily. - -With me, the day passed quietly and pleasantly enough; Mrs. Roberts took -the precaution to leave Kitty alone with me as little as possible, -always managing to come in, when Kitty had got nicely fixed with her -sewing at the furthest window, and find some excuse to send her away for -half an hour or so. But as Kitty had brought me some books from the -library, and as I felt too lazy and indifferent to object to anything, I -did not much mind her surveillance. - -The chicken soup that Kitty brought me for my dinner, was the very -nicest ever administered to hungry convalescent; and after the meal was -concluded, and the afternoon sun shut out, I made up for all -deficiencies in last night's repose by a very satisfactory sleep; from -which I awoke with a start, to find that I had slept "the all-golden -afternoon" quite away, and that twilight was stealing over the quiet -lake, and the rich autumn woods. I smoothed back the tumbled hair from -my face, and leaning against the window, looked thoughtfully out. The -sun had but just gone down, and left the horizon still glowing with his -light, without a single cloud to break the unruffled calm of sky and -lake. Not a breath of wind stirred the dead leaves that lay thick -beneath the trees in the park--not a sound broke the stillness. How -hushed and silent the dark house was! How much more to the past did it -seem to belong, than to the living actual present. And turn my eyes or -thoughts whichever way I might, they still reverted to some thing that -would remind me of the strange story I had heard that morning, still -brought before me the desolate room, where the dust of years lay on all -traces of her, who, banished, or wronged, or fled, had darkened forever -the home she left. With her, it seemed, had vanished the gaiety, the -life of the house; following fast upon her absence had come death and -desolation; and the sole survivor of this, her ancient race, grew stern -and silent at the merest allusion to her. - -My young brain grew feverish and impatient at the baffling mystery, and -refused to entertain any other thought or interest. A vague dread and -superstitious awe crept over me as the twilight waxed dimmer and greyer, -and the dying fire smouldered on the hearth, and the stillness remained -unbroken. Where was everybody; or had I slept over a few years, and were -they all dead? And was I the only living thing in the great -house--another Princess in another Day-dream, only wakened without the -kiss, and the prince gone off in a huff? - -I laughed aloud, but my laughter had a very hollow sound, and only made -the succeeding silence more ghastly; it was very foolish, but I was -exceedingly uncomfortable. Why didn't Kitty come? I could not find a -bell. I searched in vain for matches; the fire was past service, and -could not for its life, have raised flame enough to light a candle. -Every minute the room grew darker and chillier, every minute the silence -grew more and more oppressive. I began to think of what Kitty had said -of the voice that still called "Alice" through the vacant halls; and -then I wondered whether this were not the very room in which the father -died; and then I tried not to listen or hear anything, and the next -moment found myself with strained ear, watching for the lightest sound. - -At last I could endure it no longer, and groping my way to the door, -opened it, and held my breath, as I listened for some sound to indicate -that I was not the only thing that breathed and lived within the gloomy -walls. But such sound was wanting; a more vacant, drearier silence -reigned without than within the room; through the long hall and distant -corridors, not a footfall, not a motion; the rustle of my own dress -awoke the only echoes. I dared not look toward the end of the hall that -I had learned so much to dread; but starting forward and leaning over -the balusters I called "Kitty," in a voice that would fain have been -stentorian, but was in actual fact a whisper. No answer, of course, and -the faltering whisper seemed to float down the dreary vacancy with -mocking lightness and unconcern. I called again, this time desperation -overcoming the choking terror. - -Then there was a sound of some one moving, a door opened on the opposite -side of the hall, a light appeared, and Mr. Rutledge's voice said, "What -is it?" - -What was it, indeed; it would have been difficult to say just what it -was, and so I found it. - -"Oh! it is you. I beg your pardon. Do you want Kitty?" - -I said yes, and that I had been asleep, and just waked up a little while -since, and could not find any matches. My white cheeks told the rest. -Mr. Rutledge explained that Kitty had been sent to the post-office, and -had not returned yet; he was very sorry she had not been at hand to -attend to me, and coming across the hall, brought a light to my door. -Very much ashamed of my fears, I went in to get my candle. - -"Why," he said, looking in; "your fire is all out, it looks dreary -enough; I am afraid you will take cold. You had better come down to the -library and have tea with me. How will that do?" - -"It will do very well," I said decidedly; for as to staying up there all -alone till Kitty came back, it was not to be thought of, and folding my -shawl around me, I stepped out into the hall, and with great -satisfaction, shut the door of my room, and followed Mr. Rutledge -through the hall and down the stairs. I kept pretty close to him, as we -descended into the vast chilly-looking lower hall, but the coldness of -its marble pavement, and the darkness of its heavy panels, only made the -library, as we entered it, doubly attractive. The fire that would have -made any other room uncomfortable at that season of the year, only -warmed pleasantly the wide and lofty apartment. As Kitty said, "those -great windows let in no end of air, and it took a power of wood to make -it fit to stay in." And a "power of wood" now lay, "a solid core of -heat" upon the hearth, casting a warm glow over the book cases that -lined the walls, and the huge windows with their crimson drapery. The -room delighted me; there was such an air of comfort and elegance about -it, and the warm fire and bright lamp took from it the look of -old-fashioned grandeur that is so comfortless, but so universal, in -houses that have remained unchanged for a generation or so. - -"What a delightful room!" I could not help exclaiming, as my eyes -wandered eagerly over the long rows of books, that stood one above -another, from floor to ceiling, in every variety of binding, from the -dusky calf of a hundred or so years ago, to the elegant morocco and gilt -of to-day. - -"Yes, it is quite a delightful room for any one who likes books," said -Mr. Rutledge, seating himself by the fire; "do you like them?" - -"That's rather a general question, sir," I said, walking up to the case -on the right side of the fireplace, where some more modern-looking -volumes tempted my curiosity. - -"So it is," answered my companion, pushing his chair a little further -from the fire, and leaning back, shading his eyes with his hand. "It -_is_ rather general, I admit; but to reduce it to a more particular and -answerable shape, are you fond of reading?" - -"Some sort of books I like to read, sir." - -"What is the sort you like?" - -"Why," I said, rather puzzled, "I like--why I can't tell you -exactly--but I like books that amuse me, that are not dry and stupid." - -"There are so many different criterions of dryness and stupidity," said -Mr. Rutledge with an amused smile, "that your answer, I must confess, -doesn't give me much light; some people might consider as highly -interesting, you know, what you and I might look upon as hopelessly dry -and stupid." - -I thought, as Mr. Rutledge said, "you and I," that it was very polite in -him to put it so, but that he probably knew as well as I, that we had -very different tastes, and that my favorite books were as unknown and -indifferent to him, as his literary proclivities were, in all -probability, elevated above, and incomprehensible to me. - -"For instance," he said, "I like natural history. Now, a great many -persons think it very dull. How is it with you?" - -"That's just a case in point," I answered, with an effort not to care -what he thought of me, "I never could get interested in it at all." - -"I am not surprised; it is not very often attractive to those of your -age and sex. Now, leaving off the 'natural,' perhaps you're fond of -history?" - -I reflected a moment; but while "White's Universal," and "Esquisses -Historiques" were so vividly fresh and hateful, how could I honestly say -I liked history? Yet I knew there were some historical works that I had -as soon read as novels, but I did not know how to explain it; so I said, -"I don't like all history, by any means." - -"Neither do I," said Mr. Rutledge; "we agree on that point, and I am -certain we shall on many others, if we can only get at them. Suppose you -take any shelf, for instance, the lower one on your right, and let us -see what we think of the contents. What's the first volume this way?" - -I stooped down and read off the name, "Hallam's Middle Ages." - -"Ah!" exclaimed my interlocutor, "we have stumbled upon history in -earnest. How do you stand affected toward 'Hallam's Middle Ages'?" - -"I like it exceedingly, sir." I responded very concisely, very much -afraid of being pressed to give my reasons, which would have involved me -in utter dismay and confusion, for in common with most very young -persons, I liked because I liked, and disliked upon the same -discriminating principle. - -"What comes next?" asked Mr. Rutledge, to my great relief. - -"'Goldsmith's Animated Nature.'" - -"Ah! you don't like that. What follows?" - -"A long row of 'Buffon,' sir, and then 'Tytler's Universal History.' I -haven't read 'Buffon,' and I think Tytler--well--very nice, but -tiresome, you know." - -"Try the shelf above." - -"The first book, sir, is 'Irving's Goldsmith.'" - -"Did you ever read it?" - -I said Miss Crowen had given it to me to read, last vacation. - -"You found it tiresome?" - -"Tiresome! why, sir, I think it is the nicest book in the world. I can't -help thinking how Goldsmith would love Mr. Irving, if he knew about it! -Next, sir, comes a very pretty copy of 'Macaulay's Roman Lays,' and five -volumes of his 'Essays.'" - -"Did Miss Crowen give you Macaulay to read?" - -"I took it from the library, and she did not make any objection." - -"And what do you think of him as a writer?" - -I did not need to look in his face to know how much diverted he was at -the idea of extracting a criticism of the great historian from such a -chit as I; and summoning all my courage to the aid of my pride, I -answered steadily. - -"If one of my 'age and sex,' sir, can be considered to have an opinion, -I should say, that though Mr. Macaulay is probably the most brilliant -writer of the century, he is the one who has done the least good. I -don't think any one who has the least faith, reverence, or loyalty, can -read him except under protest." - -"Which means," said Mr. Rutledge, "that you and Mr. Macaulay are so -unhappy as to differ on some points of politics and theology, _n'est ce -pas?_" - -"I know very little about politics, and less about theology; I only know -how I feel when he calls King Charles the First 'a bungling villain,' 'a -bad man,' and says even prettier things about Lord Stafford; I know it -vexes me when he elevates Cromwell 'into a man whose talents were equal -to the highest duties of a soldier and a prince,' and never omits an -opportunity of sneering, with a mixture of contempt and pity, at that -slow old institution, the Church of England." - -"And you do not agree with him?" - -"Agree with him!" - -"What sentiments," exclaimed Mr. Rutledge, "what sentiments for a young -republican! Do you mean to tell me that _you_ don't look upon the -death-warrant of Charles as the 'Major Charta' of England? Do you mean -to say that you don't regard it as the first step in that blessed march -of liberty that is regenerating the world?" - -"A blessed march indeed!" I cried indignantly, "over the dead bodies of -honor and obedience, faith and loyalty! A blessed march, to the tune of -the Marseillaise and murder!" - -"But, my young friend, how do you make that view of the subject agree -with your patriotism as an American, and your veneration for Washington? -Were there no carcasses of deceased obedience and loyalty under his -chariot-wheels?" - -"_Grace a Dieu_!" I cried, eagerly, "it was Liberty, but Liberty with a -different cap on, and marching under very different colors, that -Washington fought for; no more the same deity that Cromwell and -Robespierre acknowledged, than the idol of the Hindoo is the God we -worship!" - -Mr. Rutledge shrugged his shoulders, and begged me to explain the -difference to him. And with a vehement mixture of enthusiasm, ignorance -and anger, I tried to explain my meaning to him, but, as was not -difficult to foresee, made but little headway in my argument, every -moment adding to my adversary's coolness and my own impatience. I -altogether forgot my diffidence and alarm; I was too angry and excited -to think who it was I was talking to; I only knew he was opposing and -tripping me up, and saying the most hateful things in the coolest way, -and exasperating me to the highest degree, and not being a bit -exasperated with all my saucy replies; and it was not till I had -exhausted all my combined wrath and logic, that I caught a lurking -smile about his mouth, that flashed upon me the conviction that I was -entirely the victim of his wit, and that he had just been arguing on the -wrong side for the sake of argument and amusement. - -"After all," I exclaimed, "I believe you think just as I do, and have -only been talking so, to draw me out!" - -"Why, mademoiselle! How can you suspect me of such duplicity?" he said, -with his peculiar short laugh. - -And seizing a book, I sank down on the sofa to hide my burning cheeks -behind its pages. How angry, frightened and mortified I felt, no words -can tell, and every stealthy glance I obtained of my neighbor but added -to my vexation. Wholly absorbed in his paper, he seemed to have -forgotten all about me and my indignation; and having furnished him with -half an hour's amusement, I was to be pushed aside to make way for a -more serious train of thought, such as was now knitting his brow, and -fixing his attention over some political debate or Congressional -transaction. I might smooth my ruffled temper at my leisure; no danger -of interruption or observation; I might solace myself with what -consolation was to be found in the reflection, that whatever I had said -savoring of exaggeration or absurdity, was by this time doubtless -entirely forgotten by my companion. But it was a slim comfort, and could -not displace the angry thought--what business had he to catechise me so; -make me stand there, and tell him what books I had read, and then lead -me on to say all manner of foolish things? My cheeks glowed at the -recollection. There was one comfort; I knew enough now, never to let him -have the amusement of making me angry again; he should never hear -anything but monosyllables from me henceforth; I would be ice and marble -when he was by. - -Presently there came a low knock at the door, and Kitty appeared, very -fresh and rosy from her walk, and entering, laid upon the table some -papers and a couple of letters. - -"Ah!" said the master, in a tone of satisfaction, reaching out his hand -for them, "the mail is late to-night. You may send tea up; we will take -it here this evening." - -Kitty looked in great astonishment to see me downstairs, but the -etiquette of the place forbade anything more on my part than a glance of -recognition, and Kitty retired to order tea sent up. Till that -refreshment arrived, and was arranged upon the table, Mr. Rutledge -devoted himself to the newly-arrived papers, of whose contents he -possessed himself with surprising celerity; and before the servant -announced that tea was ready, I had watched his eyes scan rapidly every -column of every paper; and looking up from the last one as Thomas made -his announcement, he laid it aside, and turned toward the table, asking -me, with a smile, if I should mind the trouble of pouring out tea. It -was an attention, he said, that he was generally obliged to pay to -himself, but it would make it much more agreeable if I would take the -trouble. - -I took my place behind the heavy silver service, and with fingers that -trembled very visibly, proceeded, for the first time in my life, to fill -that womanly office. Mr. Rutledge looked on silently, and without note -or comment received and drank his tea. The toast and cake were -unpatronized; Mr. Rutledge, I am inclined to think, forgot them, so -absorbed did he appear in his own thoughts; and I, for my part, -shrinking behind the urn, considered myself sufficiently taxed in -swallowing a cup of tea, which almost choked me, as it was. It was not -till the tea-things were removed that Mr. Rutledge allowed himself to -open his letters, doing this, as everything else, at great disadvantage, -and with some effort, with his left hand. I resumed my book, and did not -raise my eyes, till some time having elapsed, Mr. Rutledge, rising, -handed me a letter, which he said had come inclosed to him in one he had -just received from my aunt. I opened it with considerable interest, and -looking up from the reading of it with a smile, met Mr. Rutledge's eye, -who said: - -"Mrs. Churchill seems to be very much alarmed about you. I think it's -quite lucky that she was prevented from coming on in person, for she -would have considered herself basely deceived, I am afraid, if she had -dropped in upon us this evening; the two objects of her solicitude -taking tea comfortably downstairs, in the apparent enjoyment of -uninterrupted health. My bandaged arm, I believe, is the only visible -reminder of the accident." - -"How is it to-day, sir?" I asked, rather faintly. - -He looked a little inclined to smile, remembering, no doubt, that this -was the first time I had vouchsafed an inquiry concerning it; but he -answered very civilly, that it was rather painful: whether old Sartain -had made some blunder in setting it, or whether he had not kept it -sufficiently quiet, he could not tell. However, he had no doubt it would -soon be all right, etc. - -Therewith he dismissed the subject; but I could not dismiss so easily, a -little feeling of remorse for my selfishness and thoughtlessness; and he -had been so careful of _my_ comfort, too! Perhaps from that reflection, -I was very prompt to drop my book in my lap, and be very attentive to -his first remark, as, pushing away the pile of letters and papers, he -leaned thoughtfully back in his chair, and said: - -"You have not seen your aunt for a long time, have you?" - -"It is rather more than five years, sir, since I have seen her." - -"Have you been at school all that time?" - -"Yes, sir; I have been there vacations and all. Aunt Edith went away the -year after I was put there, and only came back last spring." - -"Josephine is considerably older than you, is she not?" - -"Just two years, sir; Josephine was nineteen last month, and I shall be -seventeen the 28th of December, and Grace is eighteen months younger." - -"I suppose you remember them quite well?" - -"Not very, sir; I have never seen a great deal of them. We lived in the -country, and excepting when we went to town for a visit, we were not -together. You met them abroad, did you not, sir?" - -"Yes; we travelled through Switzerland together, and I saw them very -frequently last winter in Paris." - -"Oh!" I exclaimed, eagerly, quite forgetting my dignified resolutions, -"do tell me about them. Is Josephine taller than I, and is she pretty? -They say she sings so beautifully! Does she?" - -"Where shall I begin?" he said, with a smile. "Such an avalanche of -questions overwhelms me. First, as to height; well (thoughtfully), let -me consider. It is difficult to judge. Stand up, and let me see how tall -you are." - -I sprang up, in perfectly good faith, and stood erect before him for -three full minutes, while, with a critical eye, he surveyed me from head -to foot. - -"I should say," he continued very deliberately, while I resumed my seat, -"I should say that there was not the difference of an eighteenth of an -inch between you." - -"Really?" I exclaimed. "Why, isn't that odd! It's very nice, isn't it, -for us to be so near alike?" - -"I did not say you were near alike." - -"Oh, but in size I mean. I know we don't look alike. Josephine used to -be such a thin, dark, old-looking little girl, that I cannot imagine her -tall and grown-up." - -"I think," continued Mr. Rutledge, "that she is still rather slighter -than you are; though your additional shade of health and robustness -will, I fancy, soon be lost, under the influence of town habits and -constant dissipation." - -"Are they very gay? Does my aunt go a great deal into society?" I asked. - -"They did in Paris, and I fancy it will be the same in New York. In -fact, there is little doubt of it." - -"I wonder," I said, leaning my cheek on my hand, and looking -thoughtfully into the fire--"I do so wonder whether I shall like it." - -"Ah! my child," he said rather sadly, "you need not waste much wonder -upon that; you will like it but too well. Wonder, with a shudder and a -prayer, how you will bear the ordeal." - -He sighed, and pressed his hand for a moment before his eyes; then -catching my wistful look, he continued in a lighter tone: - -"But I do not mean to frighten you; people, you know, are very apt to -preach against what they are tired of, and inveigh against the world -after they have 'been there,' and have seen its best and its worst, and -tasted eagerly of both; and have spent years in its service, and are -only disgusted when they find that it will yield them no more. They have -no right to discourage you young things, just on the threshold, eager -and impatient for you don't know what of glory and delight." - -"Why, yes; I'm sure they have a right to warn us, if they see our -danger. I am sure it is their duty." - -"Oh!" he said, with one of his quick laughs, "it would be a thankless -task; they would not be heeded. You all have to go through it, and how -you come out is only a question of degree--some more, and some less -tainted--according to the stuff you're made of." - -"I don't want to believe that." - -"You want to believe, I suppose, that you can go into the fire and not -be burned; that you can go into the world and not grow worldly; that you -can spend your youth in vanity, and not reap vexation of spirit; that -you can go cheek by jowl with hollowness, and falsehood, and corruption, -and yet keep truth and purity in your heart! You want to believe this, -my little girl, but you must go to some one who has seen less, or seen -it with different eyes from me, to hear it." - -"I want to believe the truth, whether it's easy or hard, and I had -rather know it now, at the beginning, if I've got to know it, than when -it is forced upon me by experience." - -"Wisely said, _ma petite;_ self-denial, hard as it is, is easier than -repentance; but there are few of us who would not rather take our -chances for escaping repentance and 'dodge' the self-denial, too. Is not -that the way?" - -"I don't know; I suppose so. But, if the world is really as dangerous as -you say, why should kind mothers and friends take the young girls they -have the charge of, into it? Why should my aunt, for instance, take -Josephine into society, the very gayest and most brilliant?" - -An almost imperceptible smile flitted across my companion's face at my -question, but he answered quite seriously: - -"A great many different motives actuate parents; the principal, I -suppose, are such as these: The children, they reason, are young, and -they must have enjoyment; and so they cram them with sweets till they -have no relish for healthier food. Sorrow, they say, comes soon enough; -let them be happy while they may; and so they fit them for bearing it by -an utter waste of mind and body in a mad pursuit of pleasure. And then, -they must be established in the world; their temporal interests must be -attended to. And the myriads offered up on that altar, it would freeze -your young blood to know of! And then," he continued, with an amused -look at my perplexity, "then there is another very potent reason why -they cannot be kept in the nest--for before they are well fledged, the -willful little brood will try their wings, and neither law nor logic -will suffice to keep them back. Now, even you, sensible and -correctly-judging young lady as you have this evening discovered -yourself to be, would, I fear, not bear the test of a trial; I am afraid -your courage would droop before the self denial of the first ball or -two, and you would soon be drawn into the vortex without a struggle." - -"I don't think so," I said. "I am pretty sure that if I resolved not to -go into society--being convinced that I ought not--I should be able to -keep my resolution. And even if I should see that it was best for me -not to go out till I am older, but to stay at home and study and improve -myself, this winter, at least, I know I could do it. If I thought that -balls and parties were wrong, I am certain I should never go to one." - -"That would be carrying the thing too far. Do not suppose that I mean -anything like that. What I condemn is the wholesale worldliness--the -unwearied career of folly that I have seen so much of, utterly excluding -all cultivation of heart or intellect--utterly ignoring all beyond the -present. That's the snare I would warn you of, my little friend. I know -perhaps, better than you do, the trials that lie before you; so when I -tell you that you will have need of all the courage, and self-denial, -and resolution that you are mistress of, to keep you from that darkest -of all lives--the life of a worldly woman--you must remember, I have -seen many plays played out--have watched the opening and ending of more -careers than one, the bloom and blight of more than one young life." - -A pause fell--a long and thoughtful one--while my companion, shading his -eyes from the firelight, gazed fixedly upon vacancy, and some time had -passed before he shook off the momentary gloom, and resumed, in a -lighter tone: - -"That accident was a miserable business, was it not? Keeping you a -prisoner in this dull old place, and knocking I don't know how many -plans of mine in the head. And it is impossible to tell how many days it -may be before I am able to travel, even if you should be. Perhaps, -however, I may succeed in finding an escort for you, as I suppose you -are impatient to be in New York." - -"Oh, I beg you will not take any trouble about it; I like it here very -well. I am not in the least hurry, and I hope you will not go a moment -before you are fit, on my account." - -My effort at civility was rewarded by a smile to which no one could be -indifferent; and in reply, Mr. Rutledge said that he was glad to find -me so philosophical; that I must amuse myself as well as I could, and he -should tell Mrs. Churchill, when he wrote, that I was in a fair way of -being made a strong-minded woman; between Mrs. Roberts' austere example -in the conduct of the household, and his own invaluable moral lectures, -my mind would be in no danger of rusting during my captivity. "Not to -mention," he added gravely, "very able and improving mental exercise in -the criticism of the most eminent living historians." - -I hung my head at this last cut, administered, however, so daintily, -that it was impossible to resent it; and being on the rack till he -should get away from the subject, I quickly reverted to his letter to my -aunt, asking when he should write, and desiring permission to inclose a -note to her at the same time. He should probably write to-night, he -said, glancing up at the bronze clock, which pointed to nine. - -"Writing, however, with my left hand, is a business requiring much time -and application, and possibly I may not attempt it till to-morrow -morning." - -Blushing very much, I said I wished I could be of service in writing -that or any other letters for him; it would give me great pleasure. He -thanked me for the offer, but considered it, he said, entirely too much -to ask of me. I must remember I was still an invalid. I laughed at the -idea, and the result was, that in five minutes I was seated at the -library table, with a portfolio before me, writing a letter to my aunt -at Mr. Rutledge's dictation. - -I was in high spirits at the idea of being useful, and the pen flew over -the paper almost as fast as the words were uttered. I rather writhed -under the necessity of writing without demur of myself as "the little -girl," and "your young niece;" but there was nothing to be said, and -after finishing it, and adding a few lines of my own, I enveloped and -directed it. I asked if there was any other I could write for him. - -He said there was one he was anxious to dispatch in the morning; so -taking another sheet of paper, I began another letter. It was one on -business, full of law terms and dry details, but fortunately not very -long, and writing it as rapidly as possible, in my boldest, freest hand, -I soon laid it ready for dispatch beside the other. - -"What else?" I inquired, taking a fresh sheet of paper. - -"You are not tired?" - -"Not in the least, sir," and I rapidly wrote the date, and with my pen -suspended over the paper, awaited his dictation. - -Without a word of explanation, he began to dictate as quickly as before, -in French. For a moment my heart failed me, as the teasing French verbs -rushed on my bewildered ear; but rallying instantly, without raising my -eyes or giving the least evidence of my discomfiture, I began to write. - -Thanks to Mademoiselle Celine's drilling, I was pretty ready at -"dictee," and after the first surprise, got along very well. It was -quite a severe exercise to keep pace with his rapid language, feeling -all the while as if an error would be irreparable. I would not appear to -read it over, of course, for purposes of correction, any more than I -would have done the English ones. I managed, however, while looking for -an envelope, and wiping my pen, to glance hurriedly and anxiously -through it, and was somewhat comforted to meet no fault apparent, at -least, on such a rapid scrutiny. I folded and addressed it, not, though, -without some misgivings, and after receiving thanks, and a refusal of -further services, glanced at the clock, and rose to go upstairs. - -Mr. Rutledge lit my candle, and as he handed it to me, said I must do as -I found it most agreeable about coming downstairs to my meals. He should -be most happy to have a companion whenever I felt well enough to come -down; but Kitty, he hoped, would make me comfortable whenever I -preferred remaining upstairs. - -I bowed, and said, "Yes sir," rather unmeaningly, and passed out of the -door, which he held open for me, and which he was charitable enough not -to shut till I was safe in my own room. - -Kitty, active and pleasant as ever, awaited me there, and I threw myself -in the easy-chair before the fire, while she unbraided and combed my -hair, with a feeling of great comfort and complacency. She congratulated -me upon going downstairs; and indirectly and respectfully endeavored to -ascertain whether I had found master as formidable as I had anticipated. -I did not wish to commit myself on this point; but finding that Kitty -herself stood in a little wholesome awe of him, I was tempted to -acknowledge that I did not feel altogether at ease downstairs; upon -which she said, she guessed I wasn't the only one; nobody on the place, -from Mrs. Roberts down, dared say their souls were their own when Mr. -Rutledge was by. - -"But then, he's a kind master, is he not?" I asked. - -"Oh, yes! None better; that everybody knows. He's as liberal as can be; -but then he expects everything to go on _just so;_ and every man on the -place knows that he won't put up with a bit of laziness or shirking. And -so, whether he's here or not, things go on like clock-work, and the -Rutledge farm is a perfect garden, everybody says. Better a good deal, I -guess, than it used to be in old Mr. Rutledge's time, though there were -twice as many men on it then, and twice as much money spent on it; but -there was too much feasting and company for anybody to attend much to -work, and I suppose the old gentleman was what they call a high liver, -and cared more for his hounds and horses, and dinner-parties and wine, -than for looking after his farm." - -"How old was Mr. Arthur Rutledge when his father died?" - -"Oh, a mere lad, sixteen or so; and for a time, I've heard them say, -things went on bad enough, nobody to look after anything, the farm just -going to destruction. For, the trouble all coming together, his father's -and Mr. Richard's death, and whatever it was about Miss Alice, it was -too much for Mr. Arthur, and brought on a dreadful fever, and for weeks -they couldn't tell how it would go with him. Mrs. Roberts nursed him day -and night; I guess she was the best friend he had, for he was the last -of the family, you see, and hadn't a relation in the world, and though -he had plenty of fine folks for his acquaintance, fine folks don't seem -to think they're needed when people are in trouble and come to die; and -I don't know but what they're right; they would be rather in the way. -However, they didn't have much to do for Mr. Arthur that time; and at -last the fever turned, and he began to get better." - -Kitty had an attentive auditor, and she only too willingly talked on, -and gave me all the facts she was possessed of. I had nothing else to -think about just then, and so it was not to be wondered at that I made -the most of them, and gave many an hour to the working up and -embellishing of Kitty's story. I pictured to myself the lonely boy, -coming back to life with no one to welcome him in the changed house. I -fancied him pale and melancholy, wandering through the deserted halls -and empty rooms, finding at every turn something to remind him of his -grief. I could not blame him when, as my informant said, he grew to be -morose and gloomy, and to hate the very name of home; for, going abroad, -he did not come near it for years, and seemed to have lost all interest -in it. The estate, during this time, was managed by an agent, who -neglected it shamefully, and in whose charge it was fast going to ruin. - -But suddenly, the young master returned, and to the surprise of all, -took things into his own hands; dismissed those who had been living in -idleness at his expense so long, only retaining such as were willing to -conform themselves to the new _regime_, and by industry and faithfulness -to regain what had been lost during this long period of neglect. It was -a reform which required great energy and perseverance, but these the -young heir possessed, and before a year was over, things wore a very -different aspect; the house was repaired and the grounds put in order; -the farm began to show the presence of a master. The reform did not stop -here, however. For more than fifty years, there had been no church -nearer than Hilton, a distance of six miles, which the family at -Rutledge nominally attended, when the weather was fine; but, unhappily, -Sunday and Sunday duties were by no means of paramount interest at -Rutledge; and, naturally, master and tenantry fell into a criminal -neglect of all the outward duties of religion. In the village which lay -about a mile to the south of Rutledge, there had once, before the -Revolution, been a church edifice, but long since it had fallen into -ruins, and only a neglected graveyard remained to attest its former -site. Here, Mr. Rutledge had built a church, and repairing a cottage -that lay at the southern extremity of his farm, and not a quarter of a -mile from the church, had turned it into a parsonage, where he had -established a clergyman, who had labored very faithfully and very -successfully among the almost heathenish inhabitants of the place, and -had immeasurably improved its character. - -"But still you say, Kitty, Mr. Rutledge does not live here much of the -time. I should think he would be happy in a place where he had done so -much good." - -Kitty shook her head. "There is too much to remind him of old times, I -suppose, for him to like it here; besides, it's very lonesome. He does -his duty by it, but I don't believe he'll ever stay here more than he -thinks he has to, to keep things straight." - -I reminded Kitty, by and by, of the miniature of which we had been -talking when Mrs. Roberts interrupted us in the morning. - -"Should you like to see it?" Kitty asked. - -"Of all things," I replied; and Kitty, laying down the brush, said she -would run up to her room and get it. She stopped a moment, after she had -cautiously opened the door, to listen if Mrs. Roberts was still awake, -then leaving it ajar, stole quietly up the stairs. My heart beat -guiltily as I listened to her retreating footsteps. What business had I -to be prying into family secrets? I was involuntarily ashamed of myself, -but how could I help it? How could I resist the temptation? It could do -no harm; I should only just look at it, and should be no wiser after -all. It seemed an age before Kitty's returning footsteps rejoiced my -ear, and I did not feel safe till, again within the room, she slid the -bolt behind her, and put into my hand the old-fashioned locket, with its -faded blue ribbon. I started up, and going to the light, bent down to -examine it. - -"It's like none of the family," Kitty said. "Their pictures are in the -dining-room, and I've compared them all." - -It certainly, I saw myself, was not in the least like Mr. Rutledge. It -was a face I could not altogether understand. The eyes were dark, and -perhaps tender in their light, but about the mouth--and a handsome well -cut mouth, too--there was a something I could not define, that suggested -coldness and insincerity; something that repelled me when I first -looked, but seemed to disappear after a longer scrutiny. The features -were regular and strikingly handsome, the skin a clear olive, the hair -dark and wavy. As far as my limited knowledge of these things went, what -was visible of the uniform appeared to me to be that of a French -officer, and the letters, in tiny characters, engraved on the back, "a -Paris, 1830," seemed to confirm the probability. - -"Twenty-four years ago," I said. - -"That was the year before old Mr. Rutledge died," said Kitty. - -I kept it in my hand while she undressed me, and only returned it to her -as she was leaving me for the night. But she said, - -"You'd better keep it, Miss, if you will, to-night. I am afraid to go -to my trunk to put it away, for Dorothy, the cook, sleeps in the room -where we keep our trunks, and she's just gone upstairs." - -I consented, and for safety put it under my pillow. I wished it anywhere -else, however, after the door had closed; and Kitty departing, - -----"Left the world to darkness and to me." - - - - -CHAPTER V. - - - "Girls blush, sometimes, because they are alive, - Half wishing they were dead to save the shame. - The sudden blush devours them, neck and brow - They have drawn too near the fire of life, like gnats. - And flare up bodily, wings and all. What then? - Who's sorry for a gnat--or girl?" - -E.B. BROWNING. - - -The question, whether I should breakfast downstairs or alone, was -settled by the ringing of the bell before Kitty had half done my hair, -and as I would not for worlds have been two minutes late at any meal -that Mr. Rutledge was to share, I determined to "take the benefit of the -act," and remain an invalid till dinner-time. - -"What a dismal day, Miss!" remarked my maid, as she made herself busy in -removing my breakfast from the table. "How shall you manage to amuse -yourself?" - -"I don't mind the rain in the least," I answered, wheeling my admired -chair up to the window, and throwing myself into it, with a lapful of -books and work. "I think a rainy day is splendid." - -And so, indeed, I found it for a while. I read till I had extracted all -the honey from the pile of reviews and magazines before me, and then -pushed them away, and leaning against the window, gazed out on the -dreary landscape. A sheet of rain and mist hid the lake, the pine grove -looked black and sullen, the trees in the park tossed mournfully about -their naked branches, as showers of yellow leaves fell in gusts upon the -ground; the wind moaned dismally around the house, and dashed the rain, -by fits and starts, against the windows with a heavy sound. It was very -nice to feel that it could not get in, and that there was stout glass -and stone between me and the pitiless autumn storm, and a snug and cosy -shelter from its fury. But by and by I grew rather tired of watching the -rain and the leaves, and yawning, began to cast about for some more -attractive occupation. This I found for a short time in my worsted work, -which I disinterred from the depths of my trunk, and applied myself to -in great earnest for half an hour. But the motive for exertion was -wanting; I could not help thinking wearily, that there was not the least -hurry about finishing it, and those roses would blow, on demand, any -time during the next six years, with as much advantage as at present. - -And so I laid it down and took to the window again, wondering, with a -sigh, whether all young ladyhood were like this; and if it were, how it -happened that we did not hear of more early deaths--deaths from utter -ennui and exhaustion. I had for so long been used to having every half -hour in the day filled up with some unavoidable exercise of mind or -body, that I felt entirely lost without the routine, and firmly -resolved, as soon as I should be settled at my aunt's, to begin a course -of study which should fill up all these idle moments, and give some -vigor to my faculties. "I should die of this in a month," I thought; and -seizing one of the rejected Reviews, the only literature at hand, I -resolutely set myself to read the longest, driest paper in it. And -really, after the task was accomplished, though I am sorry to say I was -not by much the clearer in my views on the particular branch of science -of which it treated, still I felt decidedly better satisfied with myself -for the effort, and experienced less compunction in taking, after lunch, -a short nap. - -Kitty had been absent all the morning, having been detailed for some -pressing laundry work by the practical Mrs. Roberts, for which I was -still owing her a grudge, when, just as I awoke from my nap, she walked -in, and accepting the chair I offered her, made me quite a little -visit. I exerted myself to appear amiable, and was congratulating myself -on the success of my efforts, and on the absence of all disagreeable -topics, when, just as she was going, her keen eyes having made the -circuit of the room many times, she detected something amiss in the bed, -and walking across to the recess where it stood, began to examine the -manner in which it was made. - -"That Kitty," she said, "was not to be trusted to make even a bed by -herself. She was sure I did not lie comfortably." - -And stooping down, she began to dissect it. My heart gave a spasmodic -thump, and then stood "stock-still for sheer amazement," not to say -consternation, when it flashed across me that I had left the guilty -miniature between the mattresses, where, in the sleepless nervousness of -last night, I had put it, in order to have it as far out of the way as -possible. It was the strangest thing that I should never have thought of -it since I waked up. "And now," I thought, with a cold chill, "now it is -probably under Mrs. Roberts' very nose, and Kitty and I are undone." I -hardly breathed as I watched her throwing back blanket and sheet, and -making sad havoc among the bolsters and pillows, giving the one a -contemptuous shake, and the other an indignant poke; all the while most -animatedly anathematizing the the unlucky Kitty. I had already pictured -Kitty and myself dragged by the hair of our guilty heads, before Mr. -Rutledge, for judgment, and terrified into confession by that awful look -of his, when to my unspeakable relief, Mrs. Roberts stopped just short -of the mattress, and coming indignantly across the room, rang for Kitty, -who promptly answered the bell. She looked somewhat blank to find that -the summons was not to dress me, but to stand one of Mrs. Roberts' -tirades. - -Mrs. Roberts was, I believe, troubled with rheumatism, "the worst kind," -and the cold storm and east wind had aggravated these long-tried enemies -to an unbearable pitch, and it was well known in the house that there -was but one remedy that succeeded in the least in allaying the -irritation of her nerves, but one soothing panacea, and that was, a -thorough and satisfactory "blow-out" or scolding; the raking -fore-and-aft some adversary's craft with the unerring fire of her -indignation, the entire annihilation, soul and body, for the time being, -of the victim that happened first to cross her path. And tradition -pointed to Kitty as the favorite scape-goat on these occasions. She knew -her fate, I am certain, from the moment she caught the dull glare of -Mrs. Roberts' eye, and doggedly tossing her pretty head to one side, -stood ready to confront her. - -Did she call that bed _made_, Mrs. Roberts would like to know? Kitty -considered it made--yes. - -She did, did she? Then she would please to come across the room and try -if she could do it as well the second time. - -I made Kitty an agonized gesture, which she promptly understood, but -which Mrs. Roberts also caught sight of, and was at her elbow in an -instant. It was a pretty severe contest of skill between the veteran -rat-catcher and the keen little mouser; Mrs. Roberts knew there was -_something_, and inly vowed to scent it out; Kitty was as determined to -elude her vigilance, and as is not unusual, youth and dexterity -triumphed. From under the very eyes of Mrs. Roberts, Kitty, under cover -of a zealous shake of the mattress, bore off the miniature, and -smuggling it in her apron, passed by where I was sitting, and threw it -into my lap. I thrust it down to the lowest depths of my pocket, and -looked with admiration at Kitty's unshaken composure, as she continued -her work under the galling fire of Mrs. Roberts' sarcasms. - -The bed at last was made irreproachably; even Mrs. Roberts could find no -fault with its unruffled exterior; though to my unpractised eye, it had -looked much the same before its revisal. It seemed a long time before -the antagonists withdrew, and a longer still before my tranquillity of -temper was restored. How I wished the miniature safely back in Kitty's -trunk, in the furthest corner of the attic! That came of doing what I -was ashamed of! I did not feel as if I could look any one in the face -till it was out of my hands. I did not venture to ring for Kitty, for I -felt certain Mrs. Roberts stood with the door of her room ajar, ready to -pounce upon her if she came in sight again; so I exerted myself to -perform the duties of my _toilette_ unaided. They were not arduous, and -I was soon dressed, and vainly trying to interest myself in my -embroidery till the bell should ring. It was still an open question -whether I should go downstairs; I half inclined to playing invalid a -little longer, and taking this one more meal in my room. But then the -dreary prospect of my solitary dinner, and the long dull twilight, with -nothing but my own thoughts for entertainment, and the longer, duller -evening, with nothing to amuse but what had failed of that object during -the day, weighed down the balance in favor of a change of scene, and I -was on my feet in an instant, as my watch pointed to three, and the bell -announced dinner, simultaneously. I pushed the worsted into my workbox, -and putting the miniature hastily into a drawer, essayed to lock it, but -the key was defective, for some cause, and would not turn, and not -daring to run the risk of being late, I again put it into my pocket, and -hurried down. - -As I reached the lower hall, I remembered that I had not the least idea -which door led into the dining-room, and so had to try three or four -which gave no evidence of being inhabited, furniture being covered and -windows closed, before I hit upon the right one. I entered hesitatingly, -not discovering, till I was fairly in the room, that I was the only -occupant of it. The table was laid for two, and the dinner was already -served, but the master was not yet down. As some minutes passed and he -did not appear, I had time to look around, and get acquainted with the -_salle a manger._ It was a fine room, old-fashioned though it was; and -modern architecture has still to produce its rival in my eyes. The -ceiling was very high, the fireplace wide, with tiled jambs; the -wood-work carved in stiff but stately patterns; the windows were deep, -with enticing window-seats, and the walls were covered with pictures. -Pictures, I imagined, of people who had once owned Rutledge: some of -them, perhaps, lived in this very house, ate and drank in this very -room. There were several portraits, that I rather hurried over, of -pompous-looking people in very old-time style, but I knew in a moment -the handsome picture over the mantelpiece. It was the late Mr. Rutledge, -like Mr. Arthur, but infinitely handsomer, on a larger scale, with a -jovial, pleasant face, but I thought, less intellectual in the -expression. Then I was certain that the picture on the right represented -Richard, the heir, who had died so soon after his father. Ah! But, I -thought, what a handsome, gentle face! What soft eyes! If Mr. Arthur had -only looked like him, what a nice, thing it would be to be dining -_tete-a-tete_ with him. _Quel dommage!_ If he had only lived! But I felt -inclined to laugh when I remembered that his younger brother might -easily, as far as age was concerned, have been my father, and the -handsome Richard himself could almost, well, yes, quite, have stood to -me in the relation, more reverend than romantic, of grandfather. - -So, with a wistful look at the pensive, delicate face that never had -grown, never could grow old, I glanced at the empty panel that -intervened between this picture and the the next. That space surely once -had held a portrait, and with a rapid transition of fancy, I thought of -the picture with its face to the wall, in the deserted room upstairs. -That was it, I made no manner of doubt, that had once hung here. Beyond -it was the mother's portrait, fair, gentle, and sad: beneath this -picture, and depending from its frame, hung a little crayon sketch, that -I examined with interest, thinking to find it identical, possibly, with -the miniature, which I pulled from my pocket to compare. But a glance -refuted that idea; not the faintest likeness between them, nothing in -common but human features. It represented (the sketch I mean) a boy of -about my own age, with such a fine, glowing, ardent face as made "new -life-blood warm the bosom," only to look into his truthful eyes, only to -catch the merry smile that lingered about his handsome mouth. It had, -however, such a likeness to Mr. Rutledge, that I should, despite the -difference that time had wrought have imagined him to be the original of -the picture, had I not found, written hastily and faintly in one corner, -"Obit. 1830," and some words in Latin that I could not make myself -mistress of. - -I was so intent upon it, that I did not notice Mr. Rutledge's entrance -till he stood beside me. I pocketed the miniature, which I still held in -my hand, in hot haste, and turned to meet his inquiring eyes. - -"Are you making acquaintance with my ancestors?" he asked. - -I answered that I had been looking at the pictures. "But this," pointing -to the crayon head, "this is not an ancestor, is it?" - -"No," he said, with a half smile, "not exactly an ancestor; a relation." - -I asked him if it was not considered like him. - -He had been told, he said, that there was some resemblance. I looked at -it with a critical eye, and then remarked that the resemblance lay, I -thought, in the contour of the face, and perhaps something about the -eyes; but the expression was as different from his as it was possible -for an expression to be. - -"That's true," he said looking at it sadly; "that face expresses what no -man's face can express after thirty: hope and courage, and an unshaken -confidence in the honesty of his fellows." - -I did not fancy that doctrine very much, so I began talking of the -other pictures. Of the older ones, Mr. Rutledge gave me some slight -sketches, passing briefly by those that I knew he could have told me -most about. But I turned admiringly back to the sketch that had so much -taken my fancy. - -"After all," I said, "this is the finest face among them." - -Mr. Rutledge shook his head dissentingly, and looked sadly up at -Richard's portrait. - -"No indeed," I exclaimed, "that's not near so good a face as this; -handsomer, perhaps, dreamy and poetical, but not so brave and spirited. -Look at the impatient fire in those eyes! And his smile is truth itself. -There is something so determined in the attitude too." - -"He was, I believe, an honest, truthful lad," said Mr. Rutledge, -unenthusiastically. - -"He was more than that I'm sure," I exclaimed, "or would have been, if -he had lived. With that high spirit he would have made everything bend -to him; and if fair fortune hadn't smiled upon his humble birth (which, -however, I suppose she did, being a Rutledge), he would have conquered -her, you may be sure. I am certain he wouldn't have known the meaning of -the words despair and doubt; but come what might, would have hoped and -believed to the end." - -"But perhaps," said my companion, "perhaps a hand of ice might have been -laid upon his youth; a cruel blow might in one day have dashed from him -all that feeds hope and faith; perhaps disgrace, grief, illness, coming -all together, might have crushed out of him all energy and spirit. What -would have become of your hero then? Would he have hoped, when death and -the grave had all that he loved? Would he have believed, when what from -his cradle he had most trusted in had proved false and worthless?" - -I was a little startled at the bitterness of his tone, but persisted, -"All that wouldn't have happened to him. 'Fortune favors the brave.'" - -"Not always, _petite_, not always," he said, with an ironical laugh. - -"Nevertheless, I wish he had lived," I said; "I am sure he would have -been my hero." - -"Why," said Mr. Rutledge, looking at me, "why, if, as you say, that boy -had lived, he would have been--let me see--nearly forty years old: and -that, you know, would have made it out of the question for you to love -him." - -"I never thought of that," I said naively. "Well then, I wish I had -lived when he did, and been born thirty years ago." - -"What! Your youth all over? No, little simpleton, whatever you wish, -don't be wild enough to wish that! Make the best of your youth, and -freshness, and spirit, for they'll take themselves off some fine day, -and leave you nothing to do but to look back." - -"That's according to the use I make of them, I suppose," I answered, a -little ungraciously. "I am not at all afraid that I shall be bitter and -misanthropical when I am old, if I spend my youth as I ought." - -Mr. Rutledge laughed very much as if he thought I meant it for him; yet -the laugh was not altogether a happy one, and he continued: - -"See to it then, child, that you use them right. I do not mean to -discourage you. I have no doubt you will be very happy and contented -when forty comes around on the string of birth-days. Always being and -provided, of course, that the hero, or one as near like him as possible, -has come in at the right time to realize your dreams." - -"But I don't believe," I said, perversely, "that I shall ever have any -lover that I shall like as much as I should have done this one." - -"He would have made you an earnest lover, certainly, if that would have -won you, with perhaps a dash of impetuosity and tyranny in his love; but -that is what you women like, is it not?" - -"How can I tell?" I said, very demurely. - -"I forgot," he answered, laughing, "I forgot that you were just out of -school, and could not be supposed to know anything about love and -lovers." - -"Of course not," I said, putting my hands in the pockets of my basque, -and looking at the ground over my left shoulder, after the manner of a -French print I had seen in Mademoiselle Celine's room. "Of course not." - -Mr. Rutledge seemed to take in such good part my saucy ways, that I -began, to feel much more at my ease, and laughed quite like myself, when -on going to the table we found the soup very unattractively cold; -"glacee," Mr. Rutledge said it was. - -"While people moralize they are very apt to forget the realities; and so -we have let the soup get cold, and the dinner get burned, very likely, -and shall have to wait for it as it has been waiting for us." - -Mr. Rutledge rang, and a servant and hot soup promptly appeared, and -dinner was soon in progress, and a very pleasant dinner it proved. For -the time, my companion forgot abstraction, and I forgot timidity, and -both forgot the dismal storm without. Mr. Rutledge condescended to be -entertaining, and I deigned to forget all former slights, and be -entertained. Unluckily, however, at dessert, I made some allusion to the -loneliness in which he usually took his meals, and that seemed to raise -some disagreeable recollection, for his face darkened, and he said, -after a short pause: - -"Yes, young lady, it is long since I have seen any face, and most of -all, a woman's face, opposite me at this solitary table." - -Then he fell into a fit of musing that made me feel uncomfortably sorry -for my mal-a-propos speech. I could not help wondering who had last sat -where I did, and the thought was anything but genial; my eyes wandered -involuntarily to the empty panel; and it was with a feeling of relief -that I arose from the table and followed my host toward the library. As -we passed the crayon picture, however, I paused a moment, and Mr. -Rutledge, turning, said: - -"You're not tired of it yet?" - -I said no, I liked it better all the time, and to-morrow I meant to -bring my drawing materials down and make a copy of it, if he was -willing. - -"You are welcome to the picture itself, if you'll accept it," he said, -indifferently, proceeding to unhook it from the frame of the picture -above, to which it hung. - -I was mute with amazement for a moment, and hardly found breath to -exclaim: - -"How strange that you do not value it!" - -He replied that there were two or three sketches of the same face about -the house, and he did not care particularly for this one. It gave him -great pleasure to give it to me, if I fancied it. - -I hope I thanked him, but I am not at all certain that I did. I seized -the picture with great _gout_, and ran into the library, and up to the -lightest window, to enjoy it by myself. - -Mr. Rutledge threw himself into a chair, and his hand being before his -eyes, I could not see whether he slept or not. I looked long and -earnestly at my favorite in every light, and from every point; then got -up on a chair and reached down a Latin Dictionary to help translate the -sentence written below the date. But I could not get it right; and gave -up in despair. - -That amusement exhausted, and no other presenting, in the course of time -the unavoidable weariness, and want of elasticity consequent upon my -three days' confinement to the house, began to make themselves felt, and -at last, I thought, to become utterly unbearable. I conceived the mad -plan of getting my shawl and hood, and escaping to the piazza for a -little exercise, though the rain had beaten furiously upon almost every -part of it. I got up, and was stealing noiselessly toward the door, when -Mr. Rutledge, whom I had fancied asleep, said uneasily, without -altering his position: - -"Why do you go away?" - -"I am so tired of the house, sir, I am going to wrap up and walk up and -down on the piazza for a little while. It will not hurt me," I -continued, pleadingly; "mayn't I?" - -"On no account," he said decidedly; "it would be absurd, after the fever -you have had." - -"I am positive it would not hurt me, sir." - -"And I am positive it would." - -As Mr. Rutledge had not turned toward me at all, I suppose he did not -see how very angry I looked, and how very red my face was. Perhaps his -thoughts had gone off to something else, for he did not say anything -more; and I stood drumming on the table, waiting for him to continue; -determined, _determined_ not to go back and sit down, till, exasperated -beyond patience by his silence, I said, moving toward the door: - -"I suppose then, sir, you have no objection to my going to my own room." - -"Why, yes," he said, "I have, decidedly. I think it would be much more -sensible for you to amuse yourself down here." - -"I've failed in doing that, sir, already." - -"Well, then, stay and amuse me." - -"That's entirely beyond my power, I am afraid; sir," I answered, -shrugging my shoulders. - -"You cannot tell till you have tried," he said; "I have a wretched -headache. Don't you feel sorry for me?" - -"Of course, sir, exceedingly. But unluckily, I don't see how I can help -you." - -"Oh, it's of no importance. Pray go." - -I stood irresolute and very uncomfortable. - -"If there's anything you'll have for your head, sir"---- - -"No, there's nothing, thank you." - -This was the way in which I repaid his indulgence and attention! This -was a nice return for the care he had taken of me during my illness. I -would have given worlds for a good excuse to stay, but Mr. Rutledge -seemed determined not to give me any. At last, after everything else had -failed, I said, hesitatingly: - -"Would it annoy you to have me read aloud to you, sir?" - -He would not trouble me on any account, he said. - -"But," I answered eagerly, "it is not the slightest trouble. I should -like to do it, I assure you." - -He would not think of putting such a task upon me. - -"But do say," I exclaimed, "whether or not you like reading aloud." - -He liked it very much, but begged me not to trouble myself. - -That was enough, and in a moment I was by the fire. - -"What shall I read, sir?" - -"Anything you fancy." - -"You are the most provoking man," I thought, as I looked up and down the -shelves in search of a book. I shrewdly concluded that I might as well -please myself in the choice, as it was not probable that Mr. Rutledge -would attend to three words of what I read, even if he did not go to -sleep. So recognizing an old friend in "Sintram," I took it from the -bookcase, and sitting down in the window-seat, opened its familiar pages -with some pleasure. Familiar, that is, they had been to my childhood, -but it was some years since I had seen the book. It was not long, -however, before I forgot myself and my auditor over the strange, wild, -touching story. The dreary storm without, the growing gloom within, all -added to the charm of its wild pathos. I read on, bending forward to -catch the last grey light from the window, till, baffled by the -rapidly-deepening twilight, I left it, and sitting down on a low seat by -the fire, read on by its flickering light. If I had not been sure that -no one was attending, I should have stopped for shame at the trembling -of my voice, which I could not control, as I read the lines that tell to -Sintram his release from terror and temptation: - - "Death comes to set thee free-- - O meet him cheerily - As thy true friend; - And all thy fears shall cease, - And in eternal peace - Thy penance end." - -A low, quick-drawn sigh told me that I was not alone in my interest in -the tale. I finished it, and dropping the book in my lap, sat resting my -head on my hand, and gazing dreamily into the fire. Presently steps in -the hall interrupted my revery, and I rose to put the book away. As I -passed Mr. Rutledge, he held out his hand, and, as I laid my own in it, -he said, "thank you," and looked at me with the most mournful expression -in his eyes. The tears rushed involuntarily into mine as I met his -glance; I did not know which to pity most, Sintram or my companion. He -saw the pity in my look, and remembered it, long after the emotion had -passed. - -A servant entered at that moment, with the brightest of cheerful lamps; -Mr. Rutledge ordered more wood on the fire, which presently blazed and -crackled genially; the curtains were drawn, and the conquered twilight -and moaning wind were banished from the room. - -Mr. Rutledge roused himself from his abstracted mood, and I said to -myself, "What can I do to keep him from thinking of the things that -trouble him?" And, woman enough to like the task, I set myself to make -the evening a pleasant one, and to keep all dullness and ennui away. And -it was a very happy evening to me, and not a dull one, I am certain, to -my host. I made tea with much less trepidation than on the evening -before, and it proved almost magical in curing Mr. Rutledge's headache. -I could hardly believe the clock was right when it struck ten, the -evening had seemed so short. I took my picture from the mantelpiece, and -bidding my companion good night, ran upstairs two steps at a time, not -remembering till I reached the top, that Miss Crowen had condemned the -practice as unladylike. "I hope Mr. Rutledge wasn't listening," I -thought with mortification. If Mr. Rutledge wasn't, Mrs. Roberts was, -though, for I heard her door shut softly soon after I had reached my -room, and presently she found an excuse for coming in upon me, which she -did rather suddenly, as I was standing before the new picture, looking -at it very earnestly, as I leisurely unbraided my hair. I went over to -the glass, however, very quickly upon her entrance; and after her errand -was over, she quite inadvertently, it would seem, glanced up at the -picture, but _I_ knew she had seen it the first thing when she came in. - -"Why," she exclaimed, looking surprised, "how came Mr. Rutledge's -picture up here? It has always hung under his mother's in the -dining-room. There must be some mistake," she continued, looking -inquiringly at me. - -An alarming truth began to dawn on my mind, a vivid blush spread over my -face, and Mrs. Roberts never once took her eyes off me. - -"I fancied it, and Mr. Rutledge said I might have it," I stammered. Mrs. -Robert's blue lips parted for an instant in a contemptuous curl; then, -looking stonier than ever, she said: - -"Yes, it is a good likeness; or was, at least, when he was a young man; -he's sadly changed since then; he's an old and an altered man now, is -Mr. Arthur Rutledge." - -The housekeeper, saying this with emphasis, and having no excuse for -staying longer, was obliged to withdraw. - -"Yes, ma'am," I muttered, as I locked the door after her, "I know he's -an old man, I know he's nearly forty years old: who better? for he told -me so himself." And my cheeks scorched with blushes, as one by one, I -recalled my foolish speeches. How stupid, how blind I had been. Why, as -I looked at the picture now, there wasn't a feature in the face that -could possibly have been mistaken for any one else, not a shade nor -outline that was not characteristic. I could have cried with vexation. -How should I ever dare to look him in the face again? "My hero!" And I -covered my face with my hands, and started up guiltily, and put it out -of the way before I unlocked the door for Kitty. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - - - "The Sundays of man's life - Threaded together on time's string, - Make bracelets to adorn the wife - Of the eternal glorious King. - On Sunday, heaven's gate stands ope; - Blessings are plentiful and rife; - More plentiful than hope." - -HERBERT. - - -"Mr. Rutledge's compliments, Miss, and he begs you will breakfast -without him this morning; he isn't well enough to come down," said the -servant, as I entered the dining-room next morning. - -"Is his arm worse?" I asked. - -"It pains him a good deal, Miss; and he's had a very bad night. Michael -has ridden over to get the doctor." That was bad news, certainly; I -wished very much I could do something for him; but as I couldn't, the -next best thing was to eat my breakfast; which, however, was rather -choky and unpalatable in all that grand solemnity, with the tall Thomas -(Mr. Rutledge's own man, temporarily supplying the post of waiter) -looking down at me. I broke down on the second slice of toast, and -concluded to give it up and go into the library. - -It seemed incredible that it had stormed yesterday; such splendid -sunshine, such a clear sky, I thought, I had never seen before. I would -have given anything for a race down the avenue in that keen, bracing -wind, but I determined heroically that I would not stir out of the house -till Mr. Rutledge gave me permission. But about eleven o'clock my -reading was interrupted by the abrupt entrance of Kitty, who, with her -face all aglow with pleasure, announced to me that Mr. Rutledge had -ordered the carriage for me to take a drive, if I felt like it; and sent -word, that if I was willing, he thought Kitty had better accompany me. I -tossed away my book, exclaiming, "it was grand," and, followed by Kitty, -ran upstairs. - -"How odd," she said, as in breathless haste she prepared me for the -drive, "how odd that Mr. Rutledge shouldn't have sent word for Mrs. -Roberts to go with you, miss, isn't it?" - -"Odd, but very nice, Kitty," I answered, with a grimace that made her -laugh; and as the carriage drove to the door, we ran down the stairs, -Kitty putting on her bonnet and shawl as we went. I am sure it would -have eased for a moment Mr. Rutledge's pain, if he could have known the -extent of the pleasure he had conferred on the two children who so -delightedly occupied his carriage that morning. All Kitty's knowledge of -it, I suspect, had hitherto been speculative, and I think one of the -dearest wishes of her heart was gratified when she tried experimentally -the softness of its new dark green cushions, and in her own proper -person occupied the front seat, an honor whereof she had only dreamed -before. - -It was a perfect autumn day; the air was exhilarating, the sunshine -brilliant, the scenery picturesque, and a great deal less than that -would have sufficed to make me happy in those days; and before we -reentered the park gate, three hours had slipped away in the most -unsuspected manner. Kitty having gathered, at my request, an armful of -the few gay autumn leaves remaining after yesterday's storm, I -entertained myself, during the drive home, with arranging them in a -bouquet. The glossy dark laurel leaves, and the varied and bright hues -of the maple and sumac, with some vivid red berries, name unknown, made -quite a pretty and attractive combination. As we reached home, I was -seized with an audacious intention, which I put into execution before -allowing myself time to "think better of it." - -"Kitty," I said, "take this to Mr. Rutledge's door, and give it to -Thomas for him, and say I hope he is better, and I am very much obliged -to him for sending me to drive, and that I enjoyed it very much." - -I was rather alarmed when Kitty had accomplished her errand, but it was -too late to retract. That evening was a very long one; I went upstairs -at nine o'clock, wondering at its interminable length. - -The next day was Sunday. Mr. Rutledge was no better, and I went to -church alone in the carriage, with only Kitty to attend me, Mrs. -Roberts, she said, not being able to leave "the master." It was a -beautiful little church, Gothic, and built of stone, with nothing -wanting to render it church-like and solemn. When I looked at the -tablets on the wall, that recorded, one after another, the deaths of -Warren Rutledge, and Maria, his wife, and Richard, their son, I could -not help thinking it must be sad for him to come here, Sunday after -Sunday, and see that; but then it's easier to think of such things in -church than anywhere else; somehow, quick and dead do not seem so far -separated there. - -Why, I could not tell, but there I remembered a great deal more -thoughtfully and thankfully than I had done before, the evening, not a -week ago, when I had lain, living and unhurt, among the dead and dying. -It was strange, in the humored nervousness of the first day or two, and -the returning health and spirits of the following, how little I had -thought of it. And when Mr. Shenstone read his text: "Were there not ten -cleansed? But where are the nine? There are not found that returned to -give glory to God, save this stranger," my heart smote me. I indeed had -forgotten, and had taken carelessly, and without much thought, my -preservation from a terrible death. I indeed had gone on without giving -glory to God, without acknowledging the mercy by which I yet lived. - -Mr. Shenstone's sermon was one that those who recognize only as -eloquence, pathos and fire and passion, would have pronounced very far -from eloquent. His manner was quiet, and not particularly impressive, -his language simple and unostentatious. But he possessed the true kind -of sermon eloquence--keen perception of spiritual things, and the -clearest knowledge of the Christian life. He had learning and talents; -but it was not by them alone that he gained so deep a reverence from his -humble parishioners, so strong an influence over them. It was because -his own hope was high, that he could elevate theirs. It was because -learning and talents and fame were things indifferent to him, save as -aids in the service he had entered, that he could descend to their -level, to raise them more nearly to his own. They could grasp what he -taught them, for it was "a reasonable religious and holy hope," a rule -of life, sober, practical, and simple, that led to high things, but -began with low. It was because his heart was in his work, that his work -prospered; because the World, the Flesh, and the Devil, were his sworn -and baffled enemies, and not his half encouraged and secret allies, that -in his little flock he made such headway against them; because "through -faith and prayer" he kept his own heart and life pure, he could see more -clearly to guide them. - -Thus it was, that though Mr. Shenstone hardly took his eyes from his -notes, and used very few gestures, and those few awkward ones--though he -preached quietly and unenthusiastically--though there were no ornaments -of rhetoric, no efforts at oratory, it was a sermon that, to this day, I -distinctly remember, and never, I fancy, shall forget. Keen, pithy, -conclusive, no one could help acknowledging its power; kind, earnest, -sincere, no one could doubt its spirit; full of a devotion the purest, a -faith that pierced to heaven itself, a love that cast out all fear and -slothfulness, no one could listen and not be better for the listening. -He put old truths in new lights, and gave to the familiar Gospel story a -vivid interest, that often reading had made tame and unimpressive. He -brought distinctly before the imagination the Samaritan village, -through which the Saviour was passing on his way to Jerusalem; the sad -company of leprous men, cut off from the sympathy and society of their -fellows, who attracted his notice. That they "stood afar off," not -daring to approach him, was no obstacle to him; no distance could put -them beyond the pity of that watchful eye, beyond the attention of that -ear, ever open to the prayers of his people. They were marked, -miserable, suffering men, and as such they cried with all their hearts -and humbly, "Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!" - -It was their one chance for restoration to home and kindred, no doubt -they cried with all their hearts. They were considered beyond the reach -of human aid; no doubt they cried humbly. And He "who hath never failed -them that seek Him," had mercy on them and heard their cry and helped -them. Sending them simply and unostentatiously to the ordained means of -cure and cleansing, they, obeying eagerly and unquestioningly, were -cured and cleansed. On their way to the priests, the hated disease left -the bodies it had so long degraded and afflicted, and with the glow of -returning health, they felt they were men once more, men without a curse -and a reproach upon them. And with returning health came the pride, the -self reliance that had been only slumbering, not dead, under the weight -of the punishment laid on them. Without a thought of Him to whom they -owed the power to do it, they hurried forward, one perhaps to his farm, -another to his merchandise, long denied, absent, but unforgotten idols. -Among the crowd, but one remembered to be thankful, but one returned to -give glory to God. And he was a Samaritan, but another name to Jewish -ears, for infamy and contempt. No doubt he had been in a good school to -learn humility among these proud Jews, who, even in their degradation, -had probably never forgotten to revile and to persecute. And on him -alone, of all the ten, rested the blessing and commendation, beside -which the bodily cure was but a paltry gift. These things were written -for our admonition; they had called for mercy in their extremity, they -had been heard and their prayer granted, and they had forgotten whence -came the mercy, and had used it only to harden themselves in worldliness -and sin. Had this case no parallel in Christian times? Was Jewish -ingratitude the last that had been offered to Divine love? Were there -none, among the Congregation of Christ's flock, who in time of peril and -temptation, had with all their hearts and humbly cried for mercy, which -when sent they had forgotten to be thankful for? The vows made in a time -of terror and despair, fade in the sunshine of returning prosperity, the -blessing is used, the Giver is forgotten. Must not such a sin look black -to Him who is of purer eyes than to behold iniquity? Will it not provoke -Him more surely than any other, to leave the ingrate forever to the -idols of his choice, to let him see, when next comes peril and -perplexity, how worthless and how frail they are, and how fearful a -thing it is, to forfeit forever the protection of a God that can save. - -If any such there were, let them repent while there was yet time, let -them wash out the ingratitude that stained their souls, with penitential -tears, and purify themselves with prayer and fast, and daily -self-denial. Let them remember that mercy was not yet withdrawn, that a -period was not yet put to His forgiveness; but how near the time might -be, how short the term of their probation, none could tell, not even the -angels in heaven. - -Ah! I thought, as we passed out of church, If I could always come to -this little church, and hear Mr. Shenstone preach, there would not be -much danger of my caring more than I ought for that wicked world Mr. -Rutledge talks about. - -I had not yet learned that there is not much merit in doing well when -there is no temptation to do evil, and that, though there was no harm, -but great propriety, in wishing to be kept away from all chance of -temptation, still, if my station in life lay in the world, the safest -prayer would be, not to be taken out of the world, but to be kept from -the evil. - -In the afternoon, I went to church alone, and this time on foot, Kitty -pointing me out a path across the fields that shortened the distance -very considerably. I recognized Mrs. Roberts in the pew in front of me; -and began to feel somewhat ashamed of my unreasonable aversion, as I -caught sight of tears on her wrinkled cheeks, and heard a slight -trembling in her usually harsh voice. Who knows, I thought, how much she -may have suffered, and what heavy cares may have worn those wrinkles so -deep, and made her so harsh and exacting? I really determined to be more -charitable and patient, and that very evening, by way of bringing good -desires to good effects, I went softly to Mrs. Roberts' door and -knocked. Now it was one thing to feel the beauty and power of Christian -charity and forbearance, under the influence of Mr. Shenstone's earnest -voice, and in the solemn stillness of the dusky church, and another to -realize it brought down to fact, before the door of Mrs. Roberts' -sitting-room, and under the influence of her grim "come in." - -My courage was beginning to fail, and I felt tempted to make a -precipitate retreat, letting the good resolutions evaporate as good -resolutions too often do, in pretty sentiment. But remembering how very -contrary this was to Mr. Shenstone's practical directions, after a -moment's hesitation, I opened the door and entered. Mrs. Roberts was -sitting by a small table with a small lamp upon it, reading a Bible, -which, upon my entrance, she shuffled away, very much as if she were -ashamed to be caught at it; then turned toward me with a look of -surprise that was anything but agreeable. She could not avoid asking me -to sit down, which I did, slipping into the first chair I reached, and -stammering out something about thinking she was lonely, and that she -might be glad of company for a little while. She stiffly replied she was -too much used to being alone, to mind it at all, and thereupon ensued an -awkward silence. The mahogany and haircloth looked dismaller than ever -by the feeble light of the little lamp, and Mrs. Roberts' face looked -colder and harder. How I wished myself out again! What possible good -could my coming do? What could I talk about? Mrs. Roberts did not make -any attempt to relieve my embarrassment, but sat rigidly silent, -wondering, in her heart, I knew, what brought me. I at last hit upon -what seemed an unexceptionable topic, and said, what a nice day it had -been. - -Rather warm for the season, it had appeared to Mrs. Roberts. Then I rung -the changes upon the lateness of the fall, the beauty of the woods, my -admiration for the little church, the goodness of Mr. Shenstone, but all -without producing the slightest unbending in my auditor. She simply -assented or dissented (always the latter, I thought, when she -conscientiously could), and beyond it I could not get. By and by, I said -quite warmly, feeling sure that I should strike the right chord this -time: - -"What a fine old place this is! I like it better every day." - -She gave me a quick, suspicious look, and replied quite snappishly: - -"I shouldn't think it would be very pleasant to a young lady of your -age." - -"What does she mean by being so cross about it?" I pondered. "Is she -afraid I am going to put it in my pocket and carry it away with me when -I go. Really I think I've done my duty; she won't let me be kind, and -now I can, without any scruple, say good night." - -As I rose to go, my eye fell on a book on the table, the title of which -I stooped to read. - -"Ah!" I cried, "'Holy Living and Dying;' how familiar it looks!" - -And with a mist of tears before my eyes, I turned over its -well-remembered pages. Rutledge, Mrs. Roberts, were all faded away, and -I was in a dim sick-room, where, on a little table by the bed a Bible -and Prayer-book and Taylor's "Holy Living and Dying," had lain day after -day, and week after week, the guides and comforters of a dying saint. -Again I was a child, half frightened at I knew not what, in that -tranquil room, half soothed by the placid smile that always met me -there. Again the choking sensation rose in my throat, the nameless -terror subdued me, as when longing to do something loving, I had read -aloud, till my tears blinded me, in this same book. I had never seen it -since then; since I had been away at school; but those five years of -exile were swept away at a breath as I opened it. I sat down, and, -shading my eyes with my hand, glanced over paragraphs that I knew word -for word, and that made my heart ache to recall. After a while, however, -the bitterness of the first recognition passed away, and it became a -sort of sad pleasure to read what brought back so vividly the love and -grief of my childhood. - -"Shall I read aloud to you?" I said, looking up. - -"I shall be very glad to hear you," she answered, in a softened tone. - -I do not know whether she divined the cause of my unsteady voice, but it -is not unlikely that she did, or the book may have had some similar -association for herself, for after I had read nearly an hour, and closed -it, she said, with a voice not over firm: - -"I am very much obliged to you, young lady; that is a book that, for -whatever cause we read it, is good for young and old." - -"I shall be very glad to read in it again to you whenever you would like -to hear me, Mrs. Roberts," I said, as I rose to go. She accompanied me -to the door, and held the light till I had crossed the hall to my own -room. - -If I had not done her any good by the effort I had made, at least I had -done some to myself. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - - - "He that knows better how to tame a shrew, - Now let him speak; 'tis charity to shew." - - -It was a lovely afternoon, milder than November often vouchsafes, and -perfectly clear. The sun was pretty low, and its slanting beams lighted -the smooth lake and threw long shadows across the lawn and over the -garden, through the winding paths of which I was now sauntering. The -last two days having been marked by no improvement in Mr. Rutledge, he -had, of course, not been out of his room, and I had been left pretty -much to myself, and had improved the time in perfecting my knowledge of -the out-door attractions of the place, and from stable to garden, I now -knew it thoroughly. Delightful days those were, saving the occurrence of -a little loneliness and ennui that would creep over me as evening -approached; delightful days, when, without a thought of care for present -or future, I wandered unchecked over the loveliest spot I had as yet -seen. A long avenue led from the house to the gate; the lawn on the -right sloped down to the lake, a lovely sheet of water surrounded on -three sides by woods; and around as far as the eye could reach, -stretched wide fields, rich with cultivation, and woodlands where one -could almost fancy the axe had never resounded. Further, however, than -the gate, and the lake, and the boundaries of the lawn, I had never -dared to venture. Dared, though, is not exactly the term; for if I had -even thought of the word in that connection, I should probably have gone -miles in an opposite direction, to prove that, as to that, I _dared_ go -anywhere. But I had a sort of chivalrous respect for what I was certain -would be the wishes of my protector, now _hors de combat_, and -determined, therefore, to stay within the grounds. - -Which were ample enough to satisfy any reasonable young person, -certainly, and picturesque enough, and well kept enough for the most -fastidious. That particular afternoon, as the declining sun lighted up -the dark massive house, and the fine old trees, nearly bare though they -were, and the winding paths of the garden and broad fields beyond, -Rutledge seemed to me the realization of all I had ever dreamed or read, -of beauty and of stateliness. I walked slowly down the garden; the faint -smell of some lingering grapes on the arbor overhead perfumed the air; -the dead leaves rustled under my feet, alone breaking the stillness -peculiar to an autumn afternoon, unprofaned by the many murmurs of -insect-life, or the animating song of summer bird. You might listen for -hours, and a nut dropping off the tree among the dry leaves, or the -tinkling of a cow-bell, acres off across the fields, or the letting down -a pair of bars somewhere about the farm, would be all the sounds that -would break the serene silence. - -But just when I was speculating on this, I heard another and a very -distinct sound, and looking whence it proceeded, discovered it to be the -shutting of the hall door, and presently some one descended the steps -and walked leisurely toward the garden. "Hurrah!" I exclaimed aloud, -"it's Mr. Rutledge!" And I ran down the path, followed closely by a -little terrier, who had introduced himself to my notice at the barn, and -not being unfavorably received, had attended my movements ever since. It -was not till I was within a few yards of Mr. Rutledge, that the -recollection of that unlucky "hero" business brought me to a sudden -stand-still, and took all the cordiality out of my greeting. He had seen -me coming, and was waiting for me, evidently, however, somewhat at a -loss to account for my sudden shyness, putting it down, it is probable, -though, to the score of childishness and folly along with the rest of -my shortcomings and absurdities. - -"I see," he said, extending his hand, "that you've been getting better -as industriously as I have been getting worse. You begin to look quite -like the little girl I brought away from St. Catharine's." - -"I am as well as possible, sir. How is your arm?" - -"It isn't _my_ arm! it is Doctor Sartain's. I don't take any of the -responsibility of it. I do not think, however, it could possibly be much -worse, as far as I can be supposed to judge." - -He spoke lightly, but I perceived in a moment that he was looking very -much paler than when I had last seen him. - -"Ought you to be out, sir, if you still suffer from it?" - -"I suppose not," he answered, as we walked slowly down the path; "but to -tell you the truth, I was tired of the house, and _coute qui coute_, -determined to get a breath of fresh air." - -I couldn't help remembering a certain scene in the library not many days -ago, and giving him rather a wicked look, made him remember it too. - -"I had nobody, however, you see, to make me stay in and by showing a -little firmness at the risk of putting me in a bad temper, keep me from -doing an imprudent thing." - -"I should have supposed, sir, that Mrs. Roberts would have been in her -element on such an occasion. I thought she always adopted the opposition -ticket." - -"By the way," he said, laughing, "how do you and Mrs. Roberts get on? -You weren't very much charmed with her at first sight, were you?" - -"I do not adore her yet, sir, but I don't think she's quite as dreadful -as I did." - -"You thought, poor child," he continued in the same tone, "that you were -in a dreary prison. Absurd as it was, I could not help feeling -dreadfully sorry for you; and ought to feel so yet, I suppose, only -I've had no time lately to feel sorry for anybody but myself." - -"Indeed, sir, I think you are the fittest subject," I said a little -nettled. "I am as contented as possible, and shouldn't mind staying here -a year." - -"You like Rutledge, then?" - -"Yes," I returned, "but I hardly dare say so, after the way in which -Mrs. Roberts snapped me up about it the other night." - -"How was that," he asked, with some curiosity. - -I related the peculiar manner in which she had received my admiration of -it, and ended by asking him if he could imagine what was the cause of -it. - -"Oh," he said, carelessly, "you must not mind what she says, and make -all excuses for her. She has had a great deal of trouble, and is -naturally of a nervous and irritable disposition, and living here alone -has increased all her peculiarities in a very great degree." - -"In a very uncomfortable degree," I said; and Mr. Rutledge was -continuing, when his further remarks were cut short by the desertion of -two of the party, to wit, the terrier and myself. Now I had no intention -of being rude, but looking down at that moment, I discovered that Tigre -had possessed himself of one of my gloves, and was gnawing and shaking -it with unspeakable _gout_. I made a motion to take it from him, whereon -the rascal darted away down the path, then paused an instant, and before -I could reach him, was away again toward the barn. I could not surrender -so, and forgetting everything but the chase, tore after him at the top -of my speed. To see the way in which that little object "streaked" -along, looking back at me out of the corners of his eyes! Four legs -naturally get over the ground faster than two, and Tigre had the start -of me besides, but I had graduated in running at St. Catharine's, and -was not to be beaten by such an antagonist as this. It was a steeple -chase of no unexciting character. - - "We staid not for brake, and we stopped not for stone." - -A ditch intervened, but proved no obstacle, and on we tore, till we -reached the low fence that separated the grounds from the outbuildings. -Tigre shot under it--I took it at a flying-leap. He was making for the -barn, and once there, he would baffle me; some favorite hole or -inaccessible cranny would shelter him from my pursuit, and hide forever -from human gaze my ill-fated glove. This goading thought sustained my -flagging energy in the same proportion that the nearness of the goal -reanimated that of Tigre. On, on, with desperate resolve! Stephen leaned -on his spade to witness the issue of the race, Michael paused, the -currycomb in his suspended hand, to see the result; and both -involuntarily ejaculated, "Pretty well done!" as on the very threshold -of the barn, I sprang upon my opponent and wrested the glove from his -determined teeth! And in a frantic romp, we rolled together over and -over on the hay, Tigre's active paws and nose in my very face, his -excitement carrying him beyond all bounds of decorum, and mine, alas! -making me as forgetful of all proprieties; till an approaching footstep -recalled me to my senses. - -Throwing down Tigre, I sprang up, and hastily shaking the hay from my -dress, and pushing back my disordered hair, prepared myself for the -lecture I knew I deserved, and "cut and dried" a very impertinent -rejoinder. I might have saved myself the trouble; Mr. Rutledge did not -take any more notice of me than if I had been Tigre's four-legged and -shaggy compatriot. Passing through the barn, he called up one of the -men, and gave him orders about the storing of some grain; sent for -another upon the question of supplies; talked with Stephen about the -state of the grape-vines; with Michael about the condition of the colts; -inspected the poultry-yard; pronounced upon the cattle; equally a -connoisseur, and thoroughly at home on every point. - -During this time, I leaned thoughtfully against the barn door, and -reviewed my own conduct, and that of Mr. Rutledge. Of course, I had been -unladylike and all that--I knew it as well as anybody; but then, I was -old enough to do as I liked, and who had a right to reprove me? Well, -nobody _had_ reproved me. But then, I knew just as well what he thought -of me; I knew he considered me rude, disrespectful, childish; and it -would have been ten times less hateful of him to have been angry and -done with it, than to have taken no notice of me in any way, just as if -he had at once dropped me out of his esteem, consideration and -recollection altogether. Angry, humbled, but rebellious, I lingered a -long while near him, with a hope that he would say something that I -could resent, but no such chance was afforded me. Mr. Rutledge's whole -mind was given to his business; and sullenly enough, I called to Tigre -and turned toward the house. It was unlucky that I did not know how to -whistle--I longed to whistle a tune, and put my hands in my pockets with -a jaunty and defiant air as I passed Mr. Rutledge on my way to the -house. As it was, I was obliged to content myself with the significant -attitude alone, that was meant to convey tones of don't-care sauciness -and indifference. - -I did not feel at all like going indoors when I reached the house, -though it was growing dark very rapidly; and with Tigre at my heels, -paced for a long while up and down the stone walk before the steps of -the piazza. The sound of Mr. Rutledge's approaching footsteps, far from -checking my walk, quickened it considerably, and calling to Tigre, just -as he reached the terrace, I started at a brisk pace down the avenue. -Mr. Rutledge stopped and called me; I went on, pretending not to hear. -He called again, and this time there was no avoiding it. I turned -sharply round and said: - -"Did you speak, sir?" - -"It is too late for you to be out; you will take cold." - -"I am not afraid, sir, I shall soon be in;" and I turned away. - -"But it is too late," repeated Mr. Rutledge, in a voice I could not -mistake. "You must excuse my interference, but I should prefer your -coming in now." - -I looked down the avenue, the moon was just rising, though day had not -quite faded in the west; I wondered what would be the result if I dared -rebel; I almost determined I would. But I glanced toward the house; Mr. -Rutledge stood holding the door open for me with a resolute quietness -that made resistance impossible. With a bad enough grace I turned back, -ran up the steps, and passed through the doorway without raising my -eyes, and never stopped till I had gained the second story, and locked -myself into my own room. Most bitter and most extravagant tears I shed -of course, very angry and very implacable resolves I made; and finished -off by a violent fit of contrition and humility under the influence of -which I started to my feet, and remembering that it was long past -tea-time, hastily smoothed my hair, and followed by my little favorite, -ran quickly down the stairs and paused a moment at the library door. All -contrition, I half opened it, and looking in, with a most April-like -face, whereon smiles and tears contended, said humbly: - -"May Tigre and I come in, sir?" - -Mr. Rutledge sat reading by the fire; tea was on the table. He looked up -a moment, then resumed his book. - -"Without doubt; tea is waiting." - -I came up to the fire, and stood leaning against the mantelpiece. If he -would only look up, and not be so hopelessly cold and indifferent! My -penitent speeches fled at the sight; I could never tell him how ashamed -and sorry I felt, while he looked so. He did not look any otherwise, -however, all through the uncomfortable meal, that I thought never meant -to end; nor during the uncomfortable hours that succeeded the -uncomfortable meal, that seemed to stretch out, like a clown's leg, -indefinitely and interminably. - -I had time to realize and become very well acquainted with the fact, -that I had forfeited the newly-acquired position of companion, and had -sunk to the capricious child again. He had just begun to treat me like a -reasonable creature, and to talk to me for something besides the -kindness of amusing me, and now by my own folly, I had made an end to -all this, and compelled him to see in me nothing but childishness and -self-will. - -Mr. Rutledge, after tea, had taken up his book again, and pushed across -the table to me some new reviews that had come that day, saying, perhaps -I might find something amusing in them. That meant I was to amuse -myself. That meant there was to be no talking, no reading aloud, no -dictating of letters. - -"It's all Tigre's fault, the little villain!" I ejaculated, mentally, -pushing him angrily down from my lap, as I took up the literature -assigned me. The discarded favorite uttered a low whine, looked -pleadingly up in my angry face, then walked over to his master, and -putting his paws on the arm of his chair, wagged his tail, and looked -imploringly for permission to spring up. But an impatient "Off, sir!" -made him withdraw abashed, and, standing on the rug between us, he gazed -wonderingly from one to the other. If it had not been for the precedent -of "the dog in the manger," and the proverbial comparison of all cross -people to "Hall's dog," I should have been certain that such scenes were -entirely new to Tigre, and that in the bosom of his family bad tempers -were unknown. As it was, he looked very much mystified and considerably -shocked; and at length concluded to lie down where he was, at an equal -distance from both antagonists, to whose movements, however, he lent an -attentive eye and ear. But there was not much to repay his watchfulness; -for beyond an occasional symptom of fatigue on my part, and the -periodical turning of the leaves of Mr. Rutledge's book, dire and -entire quiet reigned. - -At last, at half past nine, I sprang up, determined to put an end to -such an evening; and with a firm resolution not to say more than the one -necessary word, "good night," I looked furtively toward my companion. He -had closed the book, and leaning his face on his hand sat looking into -the fire. Just so he had looked the other night when I had felt so sorry -for him; and perhaps I felt the least bit sorry now. To my good night, -he replied, carelessly, "Good night;" then, looking up at the clock, -said: - -"It is early yet." - -"But I am very tired," and I moved toward the door. "I forgot to ask -you, sir," I said, turning back, "whether you had any letters you would -like to have answered?" - -"No, thank you; none of any importance. You need not stay." - -Contrition, pity, good resolutions, etc., all rushed over me; making -three steps back into the room, and swallowing down the rebellious pride -and temper, I came out with-- - -"If I am a child, sir, I am old enough to know when I have done wrong, -and not too old to be willing to acknowledge it. I am very well aware -that I have been rude and disrespectful to you, and I hope you will have -the goodness to excuse it." - -He looked at me for a moment with a puzzled air, as if he had not quite -expected the sudden humiliation; though I am not sure that my attitude -implied so much of humiliation as it did of determined conscientiousness. -After a moment's quiet scrutiny, which I bore unflinchingly, he said: - -"I am not quite sure that I understand to what you allude, nor how I -come to be entitled to pass judgment on your conduct. Pray explain." - -The blood mounted to my temples as I answered: - -"I acknowledged my faults to you, because they were committed against -you; because to you I owed respect, attention, and courtesy, which I -failed to show. I owed this to you as my elder, my host, and the person -who, in a manner, had charge of me." - -"You seem to have analyzed your duty pretty thoroughly, I must -acknowledge! You have stricter views of duty than most persons of your -age." - -"I don't resent the sarcasm, sir; I know it is well merited." - -"I did not intend it sarcastically. I say again you have shown a habit -of mind, that, if persevered in, will lead you to a high standard of -excellence." - -"My failures in duty, since I came here, sir, have been too conspicuous -to let me understand you literally." - -"You judge yourself severely; I cannot recall any very flagrant -offences." - -"They would not," I said, as steadily as I could, "be likely to make the -same impression on you as on me; with me they were matters of -conscience; with you they were, I hope, only occasion of momentary -surprise, or better, of indifference and inattention." - -"On the contrary," said Mr. Rutledge, "I have watched you attentively -since you came here, and have taken quite a strong interest in all you -have said and done." - -"You are kind," I exclaimed, nettled more at the tone than the words. -"Then I shall have to be doubly careful while I have the honor to be -under your eye." - -He went on, as if he had not heard me: "It has appeared to me that you -are in most respects"---- - -"I must beg," I exclaimed, with an impatient gesture, "that you will -defer your summary till I am in a better frame of mind to bear it. Just -now, it wouldn't be as profitable as you, no doubt, desire to make it." - -"I should be sorry," he replied, "to spoil the humility you have taken -such pains to get in order for the occasion, and will not say a word to -interfere with it." - -"Do you know humility when you see it, sir?" I could not help saying -under my breath. - -"I learned a good deal about it when I was young," he answered, "and -thought, till I came to years of discretion, that I knew all that could -be taught in regard to it. But I have since discovered that there is -more spurious coin bearing that stamp than almost any other; false -pride, wounded vanity, morbid self-love, all get themselves up under the -title of humility, and pass current very readily." - -I bowed. "Wounded vanity fits me, I think. May I retire, sir, if you -have nothing further to say?" - -"But I have," he exclaimed, suddenly changing his tone. "I have a great -deal more to say." And, taking my hand, he drew me down into the chair -beside him, and looking at me with a mixture of kindness and mirth, he -said: - -"So you are beginning to feel ashamed of yourself, are you? You are such -an absurd child, it is impossible to be angry with you, or tired of you, -for you are never two minutes alike. Upon my word you're quite a study!" - -He did not let go my hand, and though I turned my face away, I could not -escape his eyes. - -"The uncertain glory of an April day," he exclaimed. "Why, a minute ago -you were angry, then you were pleased, now you are frightened, and I -suppose you will wind up with a burst of tears. How is one to take you?" - -For this style of lecture I had not any retort ready, so I only hung my -head, and was silent. - -"One moment you are a woman, intelligent and sensible, the next a -pettish child. One day you show a sympathy, a tact, a depth of feeling, -that go to one's very heart; the next, capricious, silly, and childish, -you destroy it all. Sometimes you amuse yourself with Tigre, sometimes -with me. And," he continued, after a pause, "sometimes you talk too -much, and sometimes, as at present, for instance, too little. Well?" he -went on, interrogatively, having elicited no reply. "Well? Have you -nothing to say for yourself? Then go!" he exclaimed, throwing my hand -from him. "I am tired of you; you've been one thing too long; you've -been silent exactly two minutes." - -I got up very quickly, and retreated toward the door. - -"What?" said Mr. Rutledge, rising and standing by the fire. "You are -going? Why, we have but just made up." - -"I am not quite positive that we have," I answered, lighting my candle. -"It's rather a one-sided make-up, it strikes me." - -"How so? You surely haven't any complaint to make of me, after all my -unexampled goodness to you?" - -"Of course not!" I exclaimed; "nothing to say about your treating me -like a baby, and expecting me to behave like a woman, making me talk to -make you laugh, and putting my French and my temper to the hardest tests -you could think of; and then, after I've vexed you by a little -inattention, pushing me aside, as if I weren't capable of understanding -a reproof, and turning your back on me for a whole evening. _I_ have -nothing to complain of, of course! Good night, sir." - -"Stay a moment! You take away my breath with all that catalogue. _I_ -tease you! _I_ laugh at you! Impossible!" - -"So I said, sir; and now, if you please, good night." - -"Ah! I see I must get you away to your aunt; I shall spoil you if I keep -you here much longer. You are getting very saucy; Miss Crowen wouldn't -own you." - -"I am afraid you are right there," I said, with a little sigh; "I don't -think I am improving very much." - -"Well, then," he said, seriously, "suppose we determine to do better for -the future, and instead of trifling and teasing, be good sensible -friends. Will that suit you?" - -"I think it would be about as one-sided a friendship as the -reconciliation was." - -"Why? Are you not willing to be my friend?" - -"Of course I am; but friendship implies equality, and all that sort of -thing, and the power to help each other. Now, you know the absurdity of -my being your friend, as well as I know it, and you are laughing at me." - -"Do I look as if I were laughing at you?" And indeed he did not. - -"Well, but," I continued, "you know perfectly well I like you, and would -do anything in the world to serve you, but that cannot make up for my -inability to do it, you see." - -"You can do a great deal to help me," he answered. "There are a hundred -ways in which you can prove yourself my friend." - -I laughed incredulously. - -"You doubt it?" he said. "Listen, little girl. I have not many friends. -I do not choose to believe in many people. I choose to believe in you; -therefore you can do me a kindness by keeping alive in my heart a little -faith in human nature. I have many cares to harass me in the present; -much that is sad to remember of the past. By your youth and cheerfulness -you can brighten the one; by your gentleness and sympathy you can soothe -the recollections of the other. Youth is gone from me forever, but you -can be the link between it and me, and keep it in sight a little longer. -You can show me what I once was, earnest, hopeful, and trusting, and so -keep me from forgetting what I should be. Above all, you can be honest, -and never deceive me; and faithful, and never withdraw from your -allegiance. This is what you can do for me: now, what can I do for you?" - -I tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come, so he helped me to them. - -"You find it difficult to enumerate my duties? Something like this, -perhaps, is what you will require of me. I must be careful not to wound -the sensitiveness of one naturally much more susceptible to unkindness -than myself. I must bear patiently with childish faults, and not forget -the indulgence due to youth. I must be just and unflattering, and when -my maturer judgment suggests amendment, it is my duty, is it not, to -point it out? For having been over the same ground that you are to -travel, I can give you many hints that will make your path an easier -one, if you will but receive them. And finally, I am to have your -interest always at heart, and to observe the same faith and truthfulness -toward you that I expect you to maintain toward me. Will you subscribe -to that? Is it what you would require of me?" - -"Yes, that is fair, I think." - -"Well, then, give me your hand upon it, and remember the compact is -sealed; we are friends henceforth! Stay, what shall we have as a -reminder of this promise? Some pledge, some security is necessary, for -we might forget, in the lapse of years, you know." - -He went up to an escritoire in a distant corner of the room, and -unlocking it, took from a secret drawer two or three little boxes, and -from these selecting one, replaced the others, turned the key, and came -back to the table. The box contained a bracelet of curious foreign -coins, handsomely mounted--a very unique and elegant ornament. This Mr. -Rutledge proceeded to fit around my wrist, and with my assistance -(having the use of only one hand) clasped. - -"Are you willing to wear it always," he said, "_in memoriam_?" - -"Yes." - -"Well, then good bye to liberty!" and he turned a tiny gold key that I -had not noticed in the clasp, and took it out. I must confess to a -feeling not unlike bondage when the lock was snapped and the key -withdrawn; and involuntarily exclaimed: - -"But what if I want to take it off?" - -"You must not want to, the thing is irrevocable," he said coolly, -fastening the key upon his watch-chain, "help me with this. I have but -one hand, you know." - -"I don't altogether like the idea," I said obeying him nevertheless, and -arranging the little key on his chain. - -"You should have thought of that before," he said with a laugh. "It is -too late to retract. You may well look serious," he continued noticing -my expression. "You forgot, when you made it, what a solemn thing a -promise was; but now you'll have something to remind you of its weight, -and of the impossibility of getting rid of it. There's no danger now -that you'll forget you promised to be my friend; you are bound, -irrevocably, solemnly, forever!" - -"I thought you weren't to tease," I exclaimed shaking my arm. "It's a -very pretty thing, but I shall hate it if I feel that I must wear it -always, and that I can't take it off when I want to." - -"That's exactly what I meant to guard against. If you could take it off -whenever you were tired of it, you would of course soon throw it aside, -and there would be an end of compact, friendship and all. I hope you -know me better than to suppose I would be satisfied with such an -arrangement! _Now_, no matter how many little obstacles in the way of -oceans, mountains, and other imbecile contrivances of Nature for the -separation of friends, intervene, I shall feel as if I had a check upon -your conduct, a guardian of my place in your affections that will make -me quite easy about it. For you know of course, the legends that are -related of such gifts. I hope you are not superstitious, but you -remember the power attributed to them; how such a pledge will surely -take the giver's part, and grow tighter and tighter till the pain is -unendurable should the wearer, in her inmost heart, harbor a thought of -treachery or faithlessness." - -"I suppose, sir, having my arm amputated in case I changed my mind, -would free me from the obligation of wearing it, would it not?" - -Mr. Rutledge shook his head gravely. - -"I am not of the opinion that it would; but I hope we shall not have to -proceed to any such extreme measures." - -"Oh, it's my left arm, I shouldn't mind very much. You manage so well -with one, that I should feel encouraged by your example, if my handcuff -should grow too unbearable." - -"Still there are advantages in possessing the use of both, that I would -not advise you to give up unnecessarily. For instance, if you wanted a -cigar from the case on the top of that etagere, which cannot be reached -down without two hands, your temper would be severely tried in having to -ring for Thomas to get it for you, or having to depend upon the -uncertain charity of a most capricious friend who might or might not, be -in the humor to serve you." - -"But I shouldn't be likely to want a cigar," I said as standing in a -chair I lifted down the case, and took out one. - -"There are matches on the mantelpiece," he said nonchalantly as I handed -it to him. I brought the matches, drew one, and held it for him, as he -lit his cigar. - -"Anything more sir?" - -"Nothing but the evening paper, which you interrupted me in reading, -half an hour ago." - -"I beg your pardon, sir, but you haven't had a paper in your hand since -tea," I said, hunting among the piles of books and papers on the table -for it. "Here it is. Good night." - -"Doesn't common kindness suggest your staying to read it for me." - -"No sir, it hasn't suggested it as yet," I replied as I took up my long -neglected candle. "It suggests 'good-night,' sir," and the door closed -between us before he could answer. - -The moon was making my room so bright, that I soon put out the candle as -superfluous, and wrapping my dressing gown about me, sat in the bay -window for a long, long while, watching the soft shadows on the lawn, -and the silvery smoothness of the lake. Ah! how hateful it would be to -leave this quiet place, and go among strangers again! The idea of city -life had never been altogether attractive, but now seemed most -distasteful. Altogether, my new home in New York did not to-night -attract my errant fancy, neither did the old school life draw it back -regretfully, from a Present so sufficing that I did not ask myself why -it was better than Past or Future; nor why my fancy, usually so eager on -the wing, should lie so contentedly in so calm a nest. - - - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - - - "Be good, sweet child, and let who will be clever, - Do noble things, not dream them, all day long - So shalt thou make life, death, and that vast forever, - One grand, sweet song." - -KINGSLEY. - - -"No one who aspires to the honor of writing my letters," said Mr. -Rutledge, as I entered the breakfast-room, "can indulge in such late -hours as these. Twenty minutes to eight, Mademoiselle, and the mail goes -at ten. You are getting in shocking habits." - -"Why sir!" I exclaimed, "I've been up two hours at least." - -"And what have you been doing all that time, I should like to be -informed?" - -"I've been to the barn and fed the kittens, and to the stable and fed -the dogs; and then I went to the garden for some flowers, but the frost -had been there before me and there wasn't one worth pulling. So to get -warm (it's very chilly out this morning) I ran down the avenue, and -across to the chestnut wood, and so home by the lake. And here are all -the chestnuts those rascally village boys have left!" I exclaimed, -throwing a couple of handfuls on the table. "I do wonder, sir, you allow -them to commit such trespasses, so near the house too. I would keep at -least that grove for my own use. I never saw finer trees, and a week ago -they were loaded, Stephen says. Yesterday morning there were two boys up -threshing one of the largest trees; I heard them, just as I came under -it; the nuts were falling down nicely, so I began to pick them up as -unconcernedly as possible, and got my pockets and apron full, while the -young vagabonds up in the tree didn't dare, of course, to breathe, for -fear of being discovered and had to see me carrying off their precious -nuts without a word. I didn't leave a shell, I assure you; I never -enjoyed anything more and went down this morning in hope of another -adventure." - -"I hope," said Mr. Rutledge very seriously, "that you will never do such -an imprudent thing again. You should never go into the woods without -taking Kitty with you, least of all, when there are such marauders -about." - -"I took Solo and Dash with me, and I would have kept them up there till -noon, if I had caught them at it again, the rascals." - -"You are very thoughtless, not to be aware of the danger of provoking -such lawless fellows." - -"I cannot see the danger; not half a mile from the house, and with two -great dogs to back me. And 'if the worst came to the worst,' I know I -could outrun the longest-legged loafer among them." - -The words were hardly out of my mouth, when I remembered that this -latter accomplishment had not appeared to win me any favor from Mr. -Rutledge in the unlucky affair of the glove yesterday; and, with a -blush, I hastily, by way of effacing the impression, continued: - -"But if you don't approve, of course I will not do so again; and when -Kitty can't be spared to go with me, I will stay nearer the house." - -"Kitty always can be spared, and though I am sorry to insist upon your -taking her, I shall be much better satisfied to know you are not alone." - -"Very well, sir. May I trouble you for another biscuit?" - -"You have a fine color this morning. Rutledge agrees with you." - -"Famously," I replied, applying myself with great satisfaction to my -breakfast; "and as I have so much to do before ten o'clock, there's no -time to lose." - -"Not a minute; but I should be uncomfortable to think you were starved; -don't hurry so frantically." - -"There! I'm ready now," I exclaimed, in a few minutes following him into -the library with a light step, and singing snatches of a gay tune. - -"I see you do not dread work," he said, as I sat down before the -writing-table, and took up a pen with alacrity. - -"Not when I can see daylight through it, sir, and a reasonable prospect -ahead of getting it done. Now, sir." - -And Mr. Rutledge dictated, and I wrote for an hour, without the -slightest intermission. At the end of that time he said: - -"Do you think you are equal to the task of answering those two letters -by yourself, of which I will give you a general idea, while I look over -those accounts with Maurice and Ruthven, to be added to the New Orleans -letter? It is important that they should all be dispatched to-day." - -"If you are willing to trust me, I am willing to try." - -And I immediately began the task. It was by no means an easy one; but by -referring to the letters to be answered, and by keeping before my mind -the synopsis Mr. Rutledge had briefly given me, I was able to finish -them to his satisfaction; added the memoranda he had been making to the -other letter, sealed and addressed them all, and had the package ready -for Michael when he appeared at the door at ten o'clock. - -"You have worked pretty well for two hours," said Mr. Rutledge, as for a -moment I leaned my head on my hand. "I am afraid you are tired." - -"Not in the least," I said bravely, looking up. - -"Then get your bonnet and come out with me. It is too fine a day to stay -in the house." - -As I followed him through the hall, Mrs. Roberts encountered us at the -dining-room door. Her greeting to me was stiffer than ever. To Mr. -Rutledge she said: - -"If you can spare the time, sir, you would oblige me very much by -looking over the 'household expenses' this morning; Dorothy has got her -account with the grocer in a great snarl, and hasn't done much better -with the butcher, and I can't make them all come out right." - -"My good friend," said Mr. Rutledge, "if you had appealed to me any -other time, I might have helped you, but I have been doing quite as much -this morning as I think prudent; to-morrow I will attend to the books." - -"I am sorry," said Mrs. Roberts, uneasily; "but to-day is the day the -grocer brings in his account, and I don't like those sort of people to -suppose there's any irregularity in the accounts we keep. They're always -ready enough to take advantage." - -"Couldn't I help you, Mrs. Roberts?" I asked. "I should be very willing -to." - -She gave me a look which plainly said, "_You_ help _me!_" but she merely -answered: - -"Thank you, Miss, but Mr. Rutledge understands the books better than any -one; and if he felt able"---- - -"But he doesn't," said the gentleman in question. "The grocer can come -to-morrow with his bill. It will not signify for once." - -Still Mrs. Roberts demurred, and I saw there would be no peace till she -worried Mr. Rutledge into it, so I renewed my offer of assistance. This -time it seemed to strike her in a more favorable light. - -"If I didn't mind the trouble, perhaps I might help her reckon it up. -She wasn't as quick at figures as she used to be." - -I would do my best, I said, untying my bonnet. But Mr. Rutledge -peremptorily interfered. - -"By no means, Mrs. Roberts. She has been writing two hours already for -me; she must have nothing more at present," and he walked on toward the -door. - -But the housekeeper was by no means vanquished, and clung tenaciously to -my offer. She was sure, she said, the young lady would be glad to -oblige an old woman. And duty so plainly pointed that way, that I -wavered no longer. I had made up my mind to be kind to Mrs. Roberts; -here was the chance to carry my good resolutions into effect. Throwing -my bonnet into a chair, I said: - -"If you will excuse me from walking with you, Mr. Rutledge, I will see -what I can do to help Mrs. Roberts." - -"I cannot excuse you," he replied, with decision. "I do not think it -best for you to be confined to the house any longer at present." - -"Oh," I exclaimed, while Mrs. Roberts looked on anxiously, "I have been -used to studying and writing nine hours out of the twenty-four at -school, and this morning's business has been mere play. I shall not -think of feeling tired for hours yet, so please do not make any -objections. Come, Mrs. Roberts," I continued, going toward the stairs, -and giving her a little nod. - -She hesitated, and I saw her glance uneasily at Mr. Rutledge. I now -perceived that he was more than vexed; but I was strong enough to dare -even that, when I was as certain as I now was about what I ought to do. -He naturally, I thought, didn't like to have his wishes interfered with; -but that could not alter the right for me, "and he cannot help but see -that when he thinks it over." So again summoning Mrs. Roberts, I excused -myself to him, and ran upstairs, followed lumberingly by the -housekeeper, while the hall door closed, with no gentle emphasis, -between us and the sunny autumn morning. - -I am only doing Mrs. Roberts justice, when I say that on that particular -occasion, she manifested diplomatic talents, which, in another sphere of -life, would have won her no inconsiderable place. I had not given her -credit for the tact and acuteness that developed themselves that -morning, and which, added to her well-known decision and unalterable -devotion to the one idea that happened to be uppermost, formed the -elements of a character I had not sufficiently looked up to. This, of -course, I did not appreciate at first, and went at my task with the -kindest desire to get Mrs. Roberts out of her perplexity, and unravel -the tangled threads of Dorothy's arithmetical inaccuracies. - -It was the greatest effort of self-denial that I could well have -attempted, for besides the heroism required to give up my walk with Mr. -Rutledge, on this splendid day, and spending the morning instead with -the only person I sincerely disliked in the house, and in the room of -all others that I was most averse to, was added my unconquerable -detestation of mathematical calculations of all kinds. From the -multiplication table up, I held all such exercises in abomination. But -Miss Crowen, with her usual discrimination, having detected this weak -point in my character, bent her whole mind to the strengthening of it, -and night and day, labored to instill into my unwilling brain the rules -and methods it was constitutionally unfitted to receive. Other studies -were made to bend before it; favorite pursuits were sacrificed to this -one object; passionate tears had washed the distracting figures from the -hated slate; high tragedy had been enacted before the blackboard, and -stormy scenes in the study had only strengthened Miss Crowen in her -determination to enforce obedience, and her pupil in resistance to what -she looked upon as tyrannical injustice. The result of this continued -struggle was, that after nearly five years of drilling in that branch of -study, to the exclusion of more congenial pursuits, I left St. -Catharine's with about the amount of mathematical knowledge usually -acquired by girls of ordinary application in a year and a half. I was -too fresh, however, from such exercises, not to be quite competent to -master the difficulties presented in the Rutledge "Household Expenses," -and before an hour had passed, had reduced the "snarl" to a very -comprehensible state, and calling to Mrs. Roberts to come and look over -it, I began to explain the errors I had found, and the manner in which -I had corrected them, in as lucid language as I could command. - -But Mrs. Roberts was hopelessly obtuse; she put on her glasses and -fumbled among the loose papers on which Dorothy registered her financial -transactions, with agonizing bewilderment. In vain I assured her I had -copied them off on the book, and they would give her no light on the -subject; she could not give them up, and again and again looked them -over, and bemoaned Dorothy's inaccuracy and her own stupidity. She hoped -I would excuse her, but she could not really get her mind quite clear -about that last column; would it be asking too much of me to run it over -again aloud. I tried to be patient, and again went over it, and -explained the case in all its bearings. I resolutely kept my back to the -window, and would, if I could, have forgotten that there was such a -thing as sunshine in the world; but, however I may have succeeded in -that attempt, I could not help hearing Mr. Rutledge's step on the stone -walk outside, as he returned from the direction of the stables; nor -could I help being aware that he entered the house, paused a moment in -the library, then came upstairs. The fragrance of an Havana penetrating -the keyhole, told he had passed this door, and gone into his -dressing-room. My fingers flew over the columns; in proportion as my -patience diminished Mrs. Roberts' dullness increased; she fretted, she -groaned, she bewildered me with questions, and almost crying with -vexation, I exclaimed, as I heard the horses coming up from the stable: - -"Oh, Mrs. Roberts! Won't you please understand! Can't you see the only -mistake was in that second figure, and that I've put it all right? Can't -you see it balances?" - -But Mrs. Roberts couldn't see, and her obtuseness redoubled, as Mr. -Rutledge's door opened and closed again, and his steps echoed down the -staircase and across the hall. I could not help leaning back, and -glancing out of the window, while tears of disappointment and vexation -rushed to my eyes, as I saw Mr. Rutledge drive off with Michael in the -light wagon, and the identical pair of fast trotters that I had made -admiring acquaintance with a few days since at the stable. As their -hoofs clattered rapidly down the avenue, I could have thrown the -account-books at Mrs. Roberts' head, for in truth it began to dawn upon -me that that worthy person had had some ends of her own to serve in -keeping me so long at the work of elucidation, and that something -besides natural dullness of comprehension had been in the way of her -understanding my calculations. I began to reflect on the absurdity of -supposing that a woman who had for years had the charge of such an -establishment as Rutledge, could be in reality so dull and ignorant as -she had appeared this morning. There could be no doubt but that she had -intended to keep me in the house; for what cause, I could not yet -determine. - -The mists that had obscured her intellect, began now, however, to clear -away; and it was not long before she pronounced herself quite satisfied -on all points, even on the vexed and tortured question of that "last -column," and I was released from my task. I did not doubt the sincerity -of Mrs. Roberts' rather meagre thanks, nor the truthfulness of her -slight commendation of my patience. It was not in her way to flatter, -and I knew that for some cause she distrusted me, and that whatever -praise she awarded me, was fairly wrung from her by her stubborn sense -of justice. Though I knew Mrs. Roberts had been generalling this -morning, there was that about her that forbade my doubting her habitual -truthfulness. I merely replied that she was welcome to the assistance I -had been able to give her, and with a weary step I left the room. - -At the door I found Tigre waiting for me with wistful earnestness in his -erected ears and attentive eyes. I took him in my arms, and carried him -into my own room, where I tried to enter with spirit into the frolic he -seemed to desire. But it proved a miserable failure; I could not enjoy -that or anything else; my head ached "splittingly," and the sunshine -streaming in at the window made it worse, and playing with Tigre made it -worse, and reading, writing, thinking, all made it worse. What should I -do? I hadn't even the spirit to go out into the fresh air; but, leaning -wearily on the dressing-table, counted the heads on my bracelet, and -wondered that I could have been so happy this morning. - -By and by, I summoned sufficient energy to smooth my hair, and bathe my -head with eau de Cologne; then, calling Tigre, I concluded to go to the -library for a book. I found that apartment rather more endurable than my -own just then, as the sun did not come in there at that hour of the -morning, and the light was very subdued, and the room was quietness -itself; so, taking a book from the table, I arranged the cushions of the -sofa alluringly, and motioning Tigre to his place beside me, sat down to -reading. It would have been a thrilling book that could have riveted my -wandering thoughts that morning; and unluckily the book I had chosen was -very far from that stamp; it was a third-rate novel of the highly -wrought order, into whose pages characters, incidents, scenes, were -crowded in such bewildering profusion, that one's appreciative powers -were fagged out and exhausted, before the first chapter was -accomplished, and, like a restaurant dinner, where all the dishes taste -alike, there was but one flavor to the whole array of dramatis personae -from heroine to _bete noire;_ but "one gravy" for roast, bouilli, and -ragout. The wearying tide of adjectives and interjections stunned my -senses; the book slipped from my hands, and, leaning my head on the -cushions, my eyes closed, and with one arm round Tigre and the other -under my head, I slept, realizing even in sleep that the bracelet -touched my cheek. - -The precise duration of my nap I could not tell; but when I awoke, it -was to find Mr. Rutledge standing by me, I started up, and he said: - -"I meant to be angry, but you look so pale and tired I think you are -punished enough already. Does your head ache still?" he continued, -laying his hand on my shoulder. "You would have done better to have -followed my advice. I knew you would repent." - -"I don't repent, though," I said, quite decidedly. "I haven't even -thought of repenting, and would do it all over again, if the same -circumstances occurred." - -"You begin to relent toward Mrs. Roberts, then," he said, coolly. "I -thought yesterday you didn't particularly affect my worthy housekeeper." - -"My liking or disliking her doesn't alter the question of my duty. And, -Mr. Rutledge, I don't think it's kind in you to pretend not to -understand my motive. You must know that in all reason, I could not -prefer staying worrying in the house over some tiresome accounts, to -going out on such a splendid day; and you must see that there was no way -for me to refuse her conscientiously. You yourself say she is old, and -particular, and fixed in her ways; and I am certain you often put -yourself out to humor her; how can you blame me for not leaving her to -fret and worry over something that I could do for her in half the time?" - -Mr. Rutledge looked down at me, but said nothing, while I briefly -concluded my defence, adding at the end, a concise request that he'd -please not say anything more about the matter. - -"We will consider it amicably adjusted, then," he said, "and direct our -attention to something else. What, for instance, do you propose doing -with yourself this afternoon?" - -"I haven't thought anything about it. Take a walk, perhaps." - -"You are so fond of being useful," he said, rather wickedly, "would you -like to go down to the village for the letters?" - -"Yes, I should like it very well, only I don't know the way exactly; but -I suppose I can inquire." - -"Will you ride or walk? Michael can drive you down, or Kitty can walk -with you." - -"I think I'll walk, if it makes no difference," I said, indifferently. - -"I suppose," said Mr. Rutledge, "you don't like riding on horseback?" - -Like it! There was no need to answer; my face told fully my enthusiastic -preference for that mode of travel. - -"I do not know if there is any horse in the stable that I would venture -to let you ride. Madge I am afraid of. How long since you've ridden?" - -"Not since I've been away at school; but I'm not a bit afraid. I used to -ride constantly at home. I had the dearest little pony; but he was -spirited enough, and I always managed him. I don't really think you need -be afraid to trust me," I went on, pleadingly. - -Mr. Rutledge shook his head; Madge was only fit for an experienced -rider; she was too full of spirit for such a child to manage. Now, Madge -had been my secret admiration ever since I had had the entree of the -stables, and I felt that life offered, at that moment, no more tempting -honor than a seat on her back; and it may be supposed I was not lukewarm -in my pleading. I urged, coaxed, entreated; I appealed to his -generosity, I promised everlasting gratitude. - -"Dear Mr. Rutledge," I cried, "you know I go at my own risk; it will be -my own fault if anything happens to me. And oh! it will be _so_ unkind -if you refuse me the very first favor I ever asked of you!" - -I am not sure about the tears at this point of the petition, though I -was quite in earnest enough to have cried, and I had begun to appreciate -the availability of tears as a weapon sufficiently to have used them if -they had occurred. Certain it is, however, that Mr. Rutledge began to -relent, and at last, though evidently much against his better judgment, -gave the desired permission. - -"But remember, I don't approve it." - -"Oh! but you will," I exclaimed, "when you see how quiet she'll be with -me!" - -"And you have no habit," he continued. - -"I'll manage that. Kitty's a host in herself; I'll press her into the -service." - -My companion half sighed as I flew out of the room and upstairs, where, -in two minutes' time, I was deep in consultation with Kitty on the -subject of the habit. She entered into the plan with great ardor, and -racked her brains to devise something feasible. I sat on the bed and -waited breathlessly for the bright thought that I was sure would come, -sooner or later, to Kitty's clever brain. - -"You say you have a jacket that will do," she said, meditatively. - -"Yes, the very thing--black cloth, trimmed with buttons and all that; -and now, if I only had a long enough skirt. Oh, Kitty! can't you think -of something?" - -Kitty knit her brows, and, after a moment, said, thoughtfully: - -"There's a whole piece of black bombazine, that was left over from the -last funeral, upstairs in a trunk I know of. Sylvie and I could run up -the breadths in no time. Would you mind?" - -"Oh, Kitty! I couldn't quite stand that!" I exclaimed, between a shudder -and a laugh. "Can't you think of anything else?" - -"I have it!" cried she, with a sudden illumination of countenance. "I -have it!" - -"What!--how? Oh, do tell me!" - -"Why," said my artful maid, with mischief in every line of her bright -face, "why, Mrs. Roberts, by way of keeping me busy this morning, gave -me her best bombazine dress to rub off and press out, and it's -downstairs this minute; and you see, she always has a wide hem to her -dresses, and a great piece turned in at the top; so by letting out all -this, and putting on a piece around the waist, where it'll come under -the basque, it will make you the very nicest riding-skirt in the world." -And Kitty's eyes danced. - -"Capital!" I cried. "But then, Kitty, I'm afraid it wouldn't be right; -I'm afraid"---- - -"Don't disturb yourself, Miss; it'll be ready before you want it," and -my conscientious scruples were cut short by the abrupt exit of my maid, -who was out of hearing before I could remonstrate. - -The dinner-bell rang at the same moment, and I ran down at the summons, -too much excited, and too nervous, however, to do more than go through -the ceremony of a meal. Mr. Rutledge was rather thoughtful; he called me -a foolish child for being so much excited about such a trifling affair. -As I rose to leave the table, he asked me if I had succeeded in -improvising a habit. I said yes, and that my present perplexity lay only -in the matter of a hat. He proposed to see if he could help me, by a -review of his chapeaux, past and present; and after trying on at least a -dozen caps and hats, beaver, straw, cloth, and velvet, I decided upon a -little black jockey cap, that was the trimmest, nattiest thing -imaginable, and I knew, from Mr. Rutledge's approving glance, vastly -becoming. So I bounded off to my room, to submit myself to Kitty's hands -for the next twenty minutes. - -Very pretty, she assured me, I looked, as, the last touch bestowed, she -stepped back to take a survey of me. - -"So slim and elegant, Miss, in your black clothes, and that jaunty -little cap, and your hair so smooth and tight to your head; nothing in -the way, nothing flying," said Kitty, with a gesture signifying her -aversion to the decorated style of equestrian costume, so popular with -our contemporaries. "And that skirt!" she exclaimed, smothering her -laughter, "who would think it was the very one Mrs. Roberts had on, day -before yesterday, when she was all dressed to go to the Parsonage! -Wouldn't her hair stand on end, Miss, if she could see it trailing -along the floor! The precious dress she always takes off before she'll -go down to the kitchen, even to give an order!" - -"Oh, I'm really sorry, Kitty! Indeed, I've a great mind not to wear it." - -"Why, Miss," she said, in alarm, "don't think anything about it. It -won't hurt it a bit; I'll have it just as good as when she gave it to -me, if I sit up half the night to fix it!" - -And Kitty buttoned my boots with great _empressement_, and as Madge's -hoofs struck on the stone walk below, she hurried me off, thrusting my -gloves and handkerchief into my hand, and wishing me a very nice time. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - - - "Thy steps are dancing toward the bound - Between the child and woman, - And thoughts and feelings more profound, - And other years are coming." - -SIDNEY WALKER. - - -If I say that my heart beat a little quicker, as I came in sight of the -group before the steps, I shall acknowledge to no inexcusable weakness. -Mrs. Roberts stood a little at one side, with a darker, more gloomily -prophetical cast of countenance than ever, and seemed to be giving some -unwelcome advice to Mr. Rutledge, who, saying briefly, "I cannot -disappoint her now," turned uneasily to Michael, who held the horses, -and who was to accompany me, and appeared to give him some emphatic -directions, to which the man, from time to time, nodded assent. - -And the mare herself! Michael's whole strength was but sufficient to -control her under the unaccustomed restraint. She was a beautiful -animal, glossy black, clean-limbed, and delicately made, with a head and -neck that told "she came of gentle blood," as plainly as aristocratic -lineaments ever spoke. The insane absurdity of my controlling such a -fiery, powerful thing as she, rushed sickeningly over me, but I never -for a moment entertained the idea of giving up. If I had been ten times -surer than I was, that I should be thrown within the first half mile, I -should have rejected with scorn the advice of Mrs. Roberts, who now came -forward and favored me with her views on the subject of the proposed -expedition. I had more than one reason for desiring to keep her at a -distance; so raising my skirt as carefully as I could, I ran down the -steps to where Mr. Rutledge stood. When he saw me, he immediately -cleared his brow of the shade of anxiety that had been contracting it -during his conversation with Michael, and said, smilingly: - -"Madge Wildfire is as impatient to be off as her mistress." - -"Pretty creature!" I said, patting her neck with a hand that trembled -visibly; then, with a voice that was meant to be very cheerful and -unconcerned, I added: - -"What a perfect afternoon it is! I wish you were going." - -"I wish I were," he said, taking in at a glance the unsteadiness of the -hand that patted Madge's neck, and the direful whiteness of the lips -that spoke. After a moment of reflection he turned to Michael and gave -him some order that sent him rapidly toward the stable, while Thomas was -summoned to hold the horses, and telling me to wait a moment, Mr. -Rutledge hurried into the house. I did not rightly comprehend the reason -of this delay, till I saw him reappear, with riding gloves on and a whip -in his hand followed by Mrs. Roberts, whose astonishment and anxiety -were undisguised. - -"It's madness sir! With one hand you can hardly guide your own horse, -let alone that creature she's to ride; and if you'll forgive me for -being so plain, you may have to pay dearly for it! You are humoring a -foolish girl at the risk of your life!" - -Mr. Rutledge stopped short. "My old friend," he said in a tone of -decision, "you know I will always bear with more from you, than from -almost any one else; but you must remember, there is such a thing as -going too far. I cannot be interfered with in this way, even by you," -and he descended the steps. - -Mrs. Roberts groaned, and turned away, silenced temporarily. Michael -reappeared with Mr. Rutledge's horse, Madge was soothed, and brought to -where I stood, and Michael tossed me up on her back. Before I could -realize the dizzy height, or get the reins fairly in my grasp, she was -off with an eager bound that showed how great had been her impatience at -the delay. I kept my seat--more I did not attempt to do, as at a tearing -pace she darted down the avenue. The reins were in my hands, but they -might as well have been around her neck, for all the use I made of them. -Fortunately the gate was open, but before we reached it Mr. Rutledge was -by my side. - -"To the left," he said, as we dashed through it. It was, however, -because Madge's fancy lay that way, that she took it; I cannot flatter -myself that my faintly suggestive touch on the left rein had anything to -do with influencing her decision. And _on_ we flew, Michael clattering -behind us. It was a pretty clear straight road, bordered on both sides -by trees, and slightly descending ground. In a moment, Mr. Rutledge -spoke, but so quietly and unexcitedly that I felt soothed even by the -tone. - -"You sit very well; don't lean forward quite so much; that's better," -and in a few minutes he added, "keep a steady rein, don't pull suddenly -or hard, but just firm. She is perfectly kind, and you can manage her -very nicely after you get used to her." - -A confidence in Madge's good disposition, certainly was encouraging, and -as Mr. Rutledge didn't seem to feel any alarm or discomposure of any -kind, but on the contrary, an assurance that I was equal to what I had -undertaken, perhaps, after all I was; and under these influences, -something like composure began to return to my startled nerves and -something like strength to tighten my hold upon the reins. Still we were -tearing onward, Michael now left far behind, and the question of -_stopping_ began to exercise me painfully. I knew from the pull upon the -bridle, and the eager bounds of the animal beneath me, that as yet, it -formed no part of _her_ intention. Presently Mr. Rutledge said, quite -nonchalantly-- - -"I think, when we begin to ascend that hill on our right, we'd better -pull up a little. Keep a steady rein till we get there. Let Madge know -who's mistress; the lower one's the curb; now, pull; whoa, Madge!" - -And Madge _did_ whoa, that is, she slackened in a slight, a very slight -degree, her frantic pace, checked perhaps by the new determination of -her rider's rein, and the startling emphasis of that decided "whoa." - -It was but a very slight symptom of irresolution on her part, but it -gave me the advantage; from that moment I determined to be mistress, and -before we reached the brow of the hill, Madge had quieted to a walk. I -was as white as a ghost, and shook all over, but my companion was -considerate enough not to notice it, and checked with a look, Michael's -exclamations of alarm, as with open eyes and mouth, that attendant -galloped up. - -Several miles of country had been got over, before I began, in any -degree, to realize that I was out for the purpose of enjoying myself, or -before I was able to think of anything in heaven or earth, save the -beast I rode. - -At last, however, I began to feel, with a sense of exultation the more -elating in proportion to the struggle I had had to gain it, that I had -my horse under entire control, and with that consciousness, color came -to my cheeks, and warmth to my numb hands and feet; I could laugh and -talk then, could see that the sky was clear and sunny, and the country -we were crossing, the very prettiest and most picturesque imaginable; -could feel the wind blowing fresh against my face, as we galloped -rapidly over the open road; or listen, with an ear keenly awake to every -phase of pleasure, to the rustling of the dead leaves beneath our -horses' feet, and the clear ringing of our voices in the still air, as -we sauntered along woody passes, or threaded our way through -unfrequented bridle-paths. - -"How delightful it is!" I exclaimed, and my exclamation was echoed in my -companion's look of intense enjoyment. There was a freedom from -restraint, an abandonment to the pleasures of the present, that I had -not seen in him before. Ten years of care and trial seemed lifted from -his brow; a glow of health on his face, and a clear light in his eye, -made him almost handsome; and for the time, it was easy for me to forget -the differences of age and circumstances; it was an involuntary thing to -look upon him as the companion whom most I liked of all I had ever -found; the readiest, the keenest, the kindest; one who understood me, -himself, and all the world; who could govern me, but whose very tyranny -was pleasant; who was, in fact, so far and unquestionably my superior, -that it pleased him to lay aside all differences, and be, for the time, -the companion and equal of a child, whose very youth and ignorance, -appeared the passports to his favor. - -For the first time, during this ride he talked to me of himself, and of -his past life, but a past far separated from all association or -connection with Rutledge. He recounted, for my entertainment, travels -and adventures, that had the most exciting charm to my crude ear, at -least. And indeed I doubt whether an older and more critical taste could -have found anything but pleasure in his vigorous sketches of scenes and -incidents that had impressed themselves upon his memory. He was, indeed, -an excellent _raconteur_, and had, beyond any one I have ever known, the -power of bringing up, in bodily shape and presence, the places and -characters he chose to recall. Whether it was a sunrise among the Alps, -or a scene in a French cafe, it was equally distinct and life-like; I -saw the glittering of the sharp cloud piercing icy peaks, as, one by -one, they caught the rosy sunlight; or, the men and women in their -foreign dress and eager manner, lived and spoke before me, gesticulated, -rattled off their voluble absurdities, and vanished from the scene, to -give place to pictures of quiet English villages, with sunny meadows and -long green lanes, grey churches and mossy gravestones, or quaint old -Flemish towns, with their "cathedrals vast and dim," and tall, gloomy -houses overhanging the narrow streets; or the rich warmth of some -Italian landscape; or the vastness of the illimitable plains of Granada, -that stretch away on all sides from the ruined Alhambra; Constantinople, -with its mosques and minarets; the Holy City, with its mongrel -population and half profaned associations, all were distinctly realized -by me, as if I had in very deed been there. Mr. Rutledge rarely -exercised his talents for description, and my enraptured attention -seemed to surprise him. - -"You are an admirable listener," he said, laughingly; "no flattery could -be subtler than that attitude of interest. I should grow positively -garrulous if you were with me much. I must send you away! I hate a -talking man; with such an eloquent face before me, I shall learn to talk -hours at a time." - -"I won't look at you if you don't want me to, only don't stop talking. -Ah! please!" I exclaimed, as he pointed to the rapidly sinking sun, and -turned his horse's head toward home. "I cannot go home yet." - -"But it will be dark before we reach it, as it is," he said. - -"There's a moon!" - -"I shall never let you come again, if you are not 'good' about going -home. Come!" - -His tone wasn't alarming, and I said: "I've just got in the spirit of -it; and that's the best piece of road we've seen yet. I couldn't think -of going back under another mile; indeed I couldn't." - -Mr. Rutledge still persisted in refusing permission, though, as I said, -his tone was not alarming; not, for instance, as it had been last -evening, when he called me in from the terrace. Though his face was -perfectly serious, there was a look of smothered merriment about his -mouth, that quite recalled the crayon sketch in my trunk. He was a good -horseman, and no attitude could have been more advantageous to him than -his present one, sitting easily and gracefully on his fine horse, and -indicating with a turn of his head, the direction which he desired, nay, -commanded me to take. We were just on the summit of a hill; the sunset -was lighting up the woods behind, the road stretched smooth and broad -before us. I turned my head us decidedly in that direction, saying: - -"There's another road turns off to the left of that bridge toward -Rutledge, I know, for we drove there the other day; and it isn't more -than two miles further. That's the way _I'm_ going home. 'They'll have -fleet steeds that follow.'" - -And, touching Madge, I was off, without a look behind. It was, indeed -some minutes before I turned around to see how near Mr. Rutledge might -be; but what was my chagrin on finding myself alone, Michael only -visible descending the hill at full speed. I paused to wait for him with -ill-concealed impatience. - -"Where's your master, Michael?" - -"Gone back, miss." - -"Are you sure?" - -"Yes, miss. I think he's going home by way of the village, and that he's -going to get the letters from the office on his way." - -"Couldn't we overtake him possibly?" - -"I'm afraid not, miss; we've got two miles further to go, and the horses -are not as fresh as when we started, miss." - -That was a very palpable fact; indeed, both Michael's arguments seemed -equally invincible; but I evaded them by exclaiming: - -"Isn't there any shorter way back to the village? Think quick, Michael, -I know there must be." - -Michael thought, as quickly as he could, no doubt, but very slowly, it -seemed to me. - -"Yes, Miss," he said, meditatively, after a moment's pause, "yes, Miss, -there is another; but it's but a wild road for the like of you to be -travelling--so late too." - -"Which way is it?" I said, with an impatient wave of the hand. - -"To the right, Miss, about a quarter of a mile further on; it strikes -off through Hemlock Hollow. It's a lonesome road, though, Miss, and -there may be one or two pairs of bars to take down before we get to the -end." - -"You're sure, however, that you know the way, and that it's shorter?" I -asked. - -Michael thought he was sure. - -"Then, my man, we'll try it; and keep as near to me as you can." - -And turning Madge's head, I gave her liberty to do her best. Michael had -much ado, I fear, to keep in sight of me; but I cared very little for -his guardianship, or indeed for any other circumstance or occurrence -whatsoever, so long as I reached the village and the post-office before -Mr. Rutledge quitted them. - -Michael was nearer right than he generally had the good fortune to be, -when he described the Hemlock Hollow road as a wild and lonesome one. It -was an unfrequented wood road; the trees met above it; there was neither -foot-path nor fence on either side; it was just a way hewn down and -cleared for one wagon to pass. Lying in a hollow, it was always damper, -and colder, and darker, than anywhere else, and as I pressed on, I -couldn't help being struck with the chilliness of the air, and "the rich -moist smell of the rotting leaves" that lay thick upon the road. How -fast the light had faded! I never knew twilight to come on so rapidly. - -"Never mind," I reasoned, "it cannot be long before we are out of this -hollow, and then we shall be so near the village that I shall not mind -the dark, and after that Mr. Rutledge will be with us. He will not be -angry, I know; there was too much laughing about his mouth, when he -motioned me homeward. I am sure he won't be angry; but I almost -wish----Michael!" - -"Yes, Miss," called out my attendant in the distance. - -"How long before we are out of this wood?" - -"I don't rightly remember the length of it, Miss," gasped the panting -esquire, as he reached me. - -"Well," I said, "it's growing dark so fast, you must whip up, and make -all the haste you can." - -"Saving your presence, that's exactly what I've been doing for the last -three hours; and though I'm as anxious to get on as yourself, Miss, my -horse is just a bit _exhausted._" - -I had to suppress a laugh at his dejected looks. Melancholy had marked -for her own both horse and rider. - -"Well, Michael," I said, encouragingly, "it cannot be very long before -we reach the village, and then you shall have time to rest. Keep up as -well as you can, meantime." - -And unable to control my own impatience, I rode on, and in a little -while was again out of sight, or rather out of hearing, for sight was -fast becoming a useless gift, so rapidly had night descended, and so -effectually did the thick trees shut out what of light might have been -still left in the sky. I again called to Michael, who again was far -behind, and again had to be waited for. I was certain we had gone three -or four miles, and yet there was no sign of an opening, no change in the -monotonous, narrow road. - -"Are you quite positive, Michael," I said, "that this is the right road? -Are you certain it leads to the village?" - -He had never been over it but once, he said, and that was two years ago, -but he thought he knew it; it didn't seem so long to him before, though, -he must confess. - -A genuine pang of fear crossed me as I saw the man's bewilderment and -uncertainty, and as I realized that I must depend on myself, for he knew -no more about the road than I did, it was plain, and seemed, indeed, -fast losing his wits, from sheer fatigue and terror. - -"Think a minute, Michael," I said, in a firm voice, "how ought the road -to terminate? Does it come directly out on the turnpike, or do we have -to cross any fields before we reach it?" - -If he remembered right, there was a field to cross--no--he couldn't be -sure, on the whole, that the road didn't open right into the turnpike, -after all. Perhaps it didn't, though; it was two years since he had been -over it, and how could he remember--so dark as it was, too! - -A moment's reflection told me that there was no use in going back till -we had tried a little further, for the turnpike could not be very -distant. I thought I had a general idea of where the village lay, and -that we were going toward it. So cheering up my attendant as well as I -could, and suiting my pace to his, I endured another half mile of pretty -uncomfortable suspense before an opening in the trees, and a patch of -cloudy sky, sent a ray of comfort to my heart. - -"Courage, Michael!" I cried, "here's the end of our troubles--here's an -opening in the woods. Is this the way the road looked, do you think?" - -Michael sprang down from his horse with great alacrity, to let down the -bars that retarded our progress. Ah, yes! This was all right--just as he -said; he knew we had to cross a field. - -Quite reassured, I told him to ride on in front, as he seemed to know -the way now, and he valiantly led on, along the edges of what seemed to -me a ploughed field; but Michael being positive that there was a beaten -road along it, I submitted to his judgment. By and by, we came to -another pair of bars, which Michael confidently took down, and -conscientiously put up after we had passed through, and again led the -van. - -In the meantime, I watched the sky with anxiety. The wind was rising, -and swept cold across the fields; the clouds, though broken and flying, -obscured the light of the moon, yet low in the east. I had no way but -to trust to Michael, and I tried to do it without any misgivings, as he -seemed so confident; but it was not long before he began to waver again. -After a pause, and a moment's bewildered gaze around, he struck his hand -upon his forehead, and exclaimed: - -"Upon my honor, Miss, it's my opinion we're in a dreadful fix! I know no -more than the dead where we are!" - -"Fool!" I cried, starting forward in an agony of apprehension, "why -didn't you say so before?" - -Michael gave a miserable groan, and seemed utterly confounded. - -"Let us go back as fast as ever we can!" I exclaimed. - -"That's just what I can't see how to do," whined my hopeful guide, "for -between letting down, and putting up bars, and crossing backward and -forward, I can't seem to to remember where we did come in." - -It was too true; the place we had entered seemed a wild open common, -fenced on two sides, while on the others, it stretched away into woods -and hills; but since we had entered it, we had ridden so irregularly, -that I was, as well as Michael, at a loss to tell on which side we had -come in, and if there was a wagon track, it was too dark to see it. I -made a strong effort to command myself, and said concisely, "The best -way, Michael, is for me to ride along the fence here, and see if I can't -find something that will direct me to the place where we came in, while -you ride across the fields, there, on the left, and see if you can't -find a road through the woods, and come back as soon as you've found -any, and tell me." - -Michael obeyed, and spurred off toward the woods, while I picked my way -back along the irregular fence, which in some places was quite hidden by -the high bushes, that grew thick on either side, while in others, it was -quite open and unobscured. But the uncertain light, the similarity of -one pair of bars, and one side of the common to another, completely -baffled me, and I was as much bewildered as Michael himself. I tried, -however, to be brave and keep up my courage, trusting momentarily that -Michael would return and report favorably of a road on the other side, -which would lead _somewhere;_ anything was better than this pathless -common. - -I tried to be patient as the moments passed without any signs of his -return. I walked my horse up and down beside the fence, and struggled -manfully to be calm. There was not light enough left to see him till he -got near me; all I could do was to wait. And I did wait; hours, it -seemed to me, till every nerve throbbed with fear, and the nameless -horrors that night and solitude always bring to those who brave them for -the first, crowded so upon me, that I would rather have ridden into -certain danger, than have waited there another moment; and I dashed -across the common, toward the dark woods that skirted it. I halted and -called as loudly as I could, but no answer came. Then riding along the -edge of the wood, I called again, with all my strength, and waited for -the reply as if my life hung upon the sound of a human voice. None came, -and half wild at the dawning of this new terror, entire isolation, I -whipped Madge to her utmost speed, and flew along the whole length of -the wood, then back again, shouting Michael's name. - -At that moment the moon came out from behind the shifting clouds, and -halting suddenly, I looked around me; the common, as far as I could see, -was bare; the woods were before me; I had halted at the entrance of a -road that led into them. Perhaps Michael was wandering there, and -calling once more, I waited in vain for any answer but the swaying of -the boughs in the night wind, and the panting of my tired horse. At this -renewed disappointment, all my firmness gave way, and all the perils and -horrors that fancy suggested rushed upon me; dropping the reins upon the -horse's neck, and covering my face with my hands, I uttered a cry of -despair. Startled by it, and by the sudden relaxing of the reins, the -horse gave a bound forward, and dashed terrified into the woods. That I -was not unseated, is the strangest part of all my strange adventure; but -conscious of nothing, save an agonized fear of losing this my only -living companion, I clung tightly to her neck, as brushing against the -overhanging boughs, and swaying from side to side of the narrow road, -she tore onward in her headlong race. Of the length of time that passed -before, spent with fatigue and shuddering in every limb, she paused -suddenly before a fallen tree that blockaded the road, I can form no -idea. It was all, as then in acting, so now in recalling, one wild dream -of terror. It may have been moments, or perhaps only seconds, before, -raising myself from my crouching attitude, I looked around, and saw the -position of the horse, and the fright that she was in. The moon was -shining fitfully through the naked branches of the forest around us, and -right across the road, lay the giant trunk of a fallen tree; while the -only sound except the moaning of the wind, was the brawling of a stream -that ran beside the road. Madge shook violently, while I tried to soothe -her, but in vain. - -I slipped down from the saddle, still holding the bridle over my arm, -and almost fell, from the dizzy feeling on first touching the ground -after being so long in one position. I regained my feet, and approaching -her, patted her neck, and tried to urge her to make the leap; it was -unbearable to think of staying an instant here! But it was hopeless; -with her feet planted in the earth, and eyes dilated with terror, she -refused to move. A groan of misery escaped me as this last hope was cut -off; I tied the bridle to a low branch, and sitting down upon the fallen -tree, buried my face in my hands, in hopeless, stupefied despair. The -cold night-air was chilling me to the heart; my habit was, at best, but -barely warm enough in the day, and when heated with exercise; now, the -wind seemed to strike through and through me; and I crouched down, -hiding my eyes from the ghastly, fitful dancing of the moonbeams, and -shook from head to foot. - -Look in whatever way I might, there was nothing but terror staring me in -the face. How many miles I was from any human habitation, I did not dare -to think; but indeed it mattered little; I could not, benumbed and -aching as I was, have walked half a mile, even with the certainty of -help before me; and I doubted whether, if the horse could have been -coaxed over the cruel obstacle that stopped her course, I could have -mounted her again. I was bound, helpless, hopeless! My exaggerated fancy -refused all hope, and seized all that was frightful, and held up before -me the dread that, unless some unforeseen help should come, I should -perish during the slow waning of the awful night that had but just -begun. I saw life and youth, - - "And time and hope behind me cast," - -and one black shadow creeping toward me, slowly, but with unswerving -tread; silently, but with intensest gaze, freezing me with horror. And -with a sort of mockery, the words that had seemed so soothing and -peaceful, when, life was sure and unthreatened, rang in my ears: - - "Death comes to set thee free-- - O meet him cheerily - As thy true friend." - - -Starting to my feet, I cried aloud, as if stung with sudden pain: "No, -no! not such death as this; I cannot! Oh, is there no help!" And calling -passionately Mr. Rutledge's name, I listened as if it were impossible -that I could call on him in vain. But no voice nor answer came; the -swaying branches moaned loudly as the angry wind swept through them; the -swollen stream rushed by with a mournful sound; the dead leaves -fluttered in the fitful blast: this was my answer--this was all the -help my appeals would gain. With a cry of anguish, I cast myself down -upon the earth, and sent to heaven such a prayer as only despair and -mortal terror can wring from the heart. Not as people pray at home, -morning and evening, with Death at worst a distant enemy, and Terror and -Temptation just so many words; not as people pray from duty, or from -habit, or out of respect to religion, I prayed then. Not as I had often -asked for mercy, Sunday after Sunday, in the Litany, and thought I was -in earnest, did I ask for it now; but with such agony of earnestness, -such wild entreaty, as those ten men in the Samaritan village put into -their prayer for mercy; a De Profundis that came from the lowest depths -of abasement and despair. It was a fearful struggle, but it passed over, -and left me calmer. - -Whether it was that hope was dead, and the quiet that crept over me was -the quiet of despair, or that really faith and resignation had come at -last, I could not tell; but exhausted, benumbed, half dead, I lay -motionless upon the ground, while the moments, crept slowly on, and -formed themselves into hours; and still, with an ear that never lost a -note of all the dirge that sounded through the forest, I lay, face -downward, indifferent and apathetic. Consciousness never slept a single -moment of the dreadful hours that passed over me, but Fear and -Excitement did; and these terrible enemies only woke, when a sound that -was not brawl of stream or roar of wind, profaned the ghastly solitude. -It was a sound far fainter and less appalling than those I had been -listening to, unmoved, so long, but it roused the keenest terror. Far -down the road, I first caught it, so low that it might have been the -falling of a nut the high wind had shaken from its tree; again, this -time nearer, and the leaves rustle, and a chance bough crackles. I do -not stir a hair's breadth from where I lie--the step approaches--I do -not raise my head nor move a muscle--I do not think, nor wonder what it -is, but all faculties absorbed in one, all energies concentrated in -that one effort, I listen for the approaching sound. Nearer and nearer; -and the quick terror shoots through every chilled vein. In another -moment--but with resistless power, horror sweeps over every sense, and -in one wild surge, blots out reason, memory, and consciousness. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - - - "O, I have passed a miserable night, - So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights, - That as I am a Christian faithful man, - I would not spend another such a night, - Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days; - So full of dismal terror was the time." - -RICHARD III. - - -A shapeless tissue of dreams follow this dark warp upon the web of -memory--how much the flashes of half-received truth, how much the fabric -of distorted fancy, I cannot say. Into some such form as this, they have -shaped themselves: mixed up in a confused way with the sights and sounds -of that wild solitude, comes the recollection of being clasped in arms -whose familiar hold inspired no terror; of hurried words of endearment, -and a kiss upon my forehead that lulled the returning pulsations of fear -into repose again; then a blank; then shouting voices, and the sound of -footsteps, many and heavy, rouse me once more into faint and fitful -consciousness, and dim and spectral as a graveyard dance of witches, -appear strange men with lanterns, who cluster round me; and as I close -my eyes in shuddering fear, Michael's face, in distorted ugliness, takes -a hundred ghastly shapes, dances before my eyes, and keeps out -everything else, for a space of time unspeakably frightful, as it is -immeasurably long. - -At last, dull stupor overpowers it; and long, long, after that, comes a -woman's kind face and gentle touch; then a hand and voice that are -unfamiliar and unwelcome; cat-like and soft, from which I shrink in -aversion. Then, they too vanish, and when next the uncertain mist of -oblivion rolls up, I am lying in a long low room, strange and new to -me, but not unpleasing, even by the dim light that burns upon the table, -shaded from me by a painted screen. My eyes wander around inquiringly -upon the simple furniture of the room, the dark, low walls, the piles of -books and pamphlets that heap the shelves irregularly, till they rest -upon the two figures at the other end of the room. A fire burns low on -the hearth, and beside it sits a man, stooping his head upon his hand. -Another in an attitude that is familiar to me, stands with his arm upon -the mantelpiece shading his eyes from the light. They talk low and -earnestly; sometimes the one standing by the mantelpiece strides -impatiently backward and forward, across the room, and resumes his -former attitude. He by the fire never moves. I try to listen, but the -effort confuses me; and it is a long while before any of their words -reach me, and then only in a broken, uncertain way. The first I catch -are those of the voice that is familiar to me: - -"It is the first time I ever rejected your counsel; the first time I -ever put aside your warning. Do you believe me when I say it pains me to -the heart, after so many years of steadfast and close friendship, to -rebel against the sacrifice it requires of me? But you do not know what -you ask, indeed you do not!" - -"Perhaps not, Arthur, perhaps not," answered his companion, in a low -voice. "Do not think again of what I said; it was an over-anxiety for -your happiness that prompted me to speak; and now forget the words, and -remember only the love that moved them." - -"No, Shenstone, I will not forget them," the other says, warmly; "I know -too well the value of your counsels. I will remember what you have said, -and keep the caution by me, when there is need for caution. But you must -not blame me, if I cannot put aside at once a hope that has got so -strong a hold upon me. I promise you to do nothing rashly, to let -nothing blind my judgment, to put the test of absence, change of scene, -change of interest, upon us both; years, if you will, shall pass before -I dare attempt to realize my hope; years that shall prove its -possibility, or show its folly; but do not ask me to give it up at -once." - -Mr. Shenstone shook his head. "Will it be easier to tear up the -cherished hope of years, than to put down the fond fancy of a day, my -friend, do you think?" - -"I am not a man given to fancies, am I, Shenstone? A life as cold as the -last twenty years of mine has been, does not look much like the pursuit -of fancies. You have known--who better?--the bitterness that poisoned -the very fountain-head of my youth; you have seen how it has tainted the -current of my whole life; how that after years of suffering and -self-denial, it only needs a word, a recollection of the past to bring -the bitter flood back upon my heart. You know all this, and yet you deny -me the only charm I see in life; the only light that gilds the dark -future! Is this kind?" - -He walked impatiently across the room, then came back to his place. The -other did not look up nor speak. - -"I know what you would say," continued his companion, after a moment; "I -know you would remind me that the same blow that blighted my youth, -struck deeper at your heart; that you have learned to live without what -was life to you once; that I can learn the same hard lesson. I have -tried, oh, my friend! I have tried to gain your heights of faith and -hope; but still the unconquered flesh drags me down: the curse that -generations of godless ancestors have laid upon me is unexpiated yet. -You stand now where I cannot hope to stand till - - "Death comes to set me free." - -Death, that I shall have won! And hoped for, you know longingly, in the -old days of wretchedness." - -"That's past, Arthur, thank God's good grace; and life is no longer a -penance to you; and that it never may be again, God in His mercy grant, -and spare you what I dreaded for you. God bring you higher than I stand, -but by a gentler way, if it be His will! Arthur, it was a fiercer -struggle than even you can understand, in which my faith was born. It -was a conflict that lasts through most men's lives, that I passed -through at one dire struggle, and died unto the world forever. But, -looking backward, oh, Arthur, I can look back now and see how - - ----"One dead joy appears - The platform of some better hope." - -Better, as heaven is than earth, as peace is than temptation, as the -service of God is than the weary bondage of the world!" - -He lifted his head a moment, as if in involuntary triumph, then bent it -again, and was silent. - -At that moment the door softly opened, and the woman I had seen before -stole up to where I lay, and bending down, looked in my face with -anxious inquiry, while the friends at the other end of the room hushed -their earnest tones, and one (my head was throbbing too much to see -which) started forward, and said anxiously: - -"Has the doctor come back yet, Mrs. Arnold?" - -"He is in the hall at this moment, sir," she answered, with preciseness -of manner, and a peculiar sweetness of voice. - -Again the door opened, and again I heard the cat-like step, and felt the -velvet touch that sent a shiver through me; and then succeeded a -throbbing pain in my temples, dull aching in every limb, a high fever -coursing through every vein, and I lived over again in delirium the -scenes from which I had just escaped. Again I was lying beneath the -roaring forest trees; again the sharp throes of mortal terror wrung from -me the cry that I had uttered then, this time to be soothed by a tender -and familiar voice; then restless with pain, and burning with fever, -only pacified from that dream to be hurried off into another, wilder and -more terrible. With glaring eyes and demoniac faces, the crowd of men, -with Michael at their head, were in mad pursuit of a flying horse and -rider; with hideous jeers and yells they urge them on, and closing round -the frantic steed, they tear me, clinging round her, from Madge's neck, -and holding me down upon the ground, wrench from my arm the bracelet, -that resists, at first, their strongest efforts, till the warm blood -flows, and the torn flesh quivers, as staggering back, a ruffian lifts -the bloody prize, and with a wild cry I wake, only to drop into another -broken slumber, and to dream another hideous dream. - -This time it is Mrs. Roberts, who, with rigid, cruel face, holds me -down, and binding my powerless hands, thrusts me, struggling and -frantic, into the dread, mysterious darkness of _that room_. And choking -with terror, the agony is dispelled by the low voice that says, "What is -it now, poor child?" and panting with fright, I cling to the hand that -soothes me, and only from its steady grasp gain anything like peace. And -so the night wears on. How much of these wild dreams revealed themselves -in speech I know not, and how much of the history of that night belongs -to fact, and how much to fancy, it is beyond me to decide. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - - - "Oh! what a tangled web we weave, - When first we practise to deceive!" - -SCOTT. - - -Emerging from this sea of dreams tumultuous, I seemed, on a certain -cold, grey morning, to be stranded on the shores of reality by an ebbing -tide of water gruel and weak tea. Having, from my extreme youth, -entertained undisguised aversion to these articles of food, I had -steadily refused to let a spoonful pass my lips; consequently, my nurse -and doctor not having relinquished a hope that in time I would come to -terms, many separate editions of these invigorating compounds stood upon -the table by my bed, in bowls of larger growth, in teacups and saucers, -and every variety of earthen and china vessels, all covered and arranged -with consummate care and skill. - -These observations I made with great interest, as after a long period of -dreamy stupor, the "keen demands of appetite," or some indignant protest -of nature against such indolent inactivity, roused me; and raising -myself upon my elbow, I looked around with much curiosity and some -bewilderment. The room was entirely unfamiliar, long and old-fashioned -looking. The bed and the one window were curtained with white dimity; -the walls and ceiling were white-washed to a painful whiteness; the -counterpane, the pillows, the sheets, were one drift of snow. Indeed, so -forcible was this impression, that for a moment it was a question with -me whether I had not just waked up from a nap in one of those -snow-houses, so called, which it had been the delight of my childhood to -construct, being excavations in some adjacent snow-bank, achieved with -the help of a friendly spade, in which I would lie and dream of icy -palaces, and frosty fairy fabrics. The idea that I had been napping it -in one of these juvenile architectural devices, was favored by the -lowness of the white ceiling, which seemed almost within touch, and the -long, narrow shape of the room, terminating in a small, white-curtained -window, through which I caught a glimpse of cold grey sky, that -suggested snow and chill. - -A tiny fire, however, in a tiny grate, and a woman sewing by what I had -conceived to be the mouth of the cave, but which, I was obliged to -confess, was unmistakably a window, quite dispelled the illusion, and I -had nothing left me but to come down to cold reality again, after a -sojourn in dream-land so long as to render me a little uncertain and -bewildered on all mundane matters. I looked quite attentively for some -time at the woman by the window, then startled her very considerably by -saying suddenly: - -"Are you the one they call Mrs. Arnold?" - -She dropped her work, started up, and approached the bed, saying, in her -precise manner and sweet voice: - -"That is my name, Miss. Can I do anything for you?" - -"No," I said slowly, looking at her, "I don't think of anything, thank -you." - -And while Mrs. Arnold, after arranging the pillows, and in a neat, -quick-handed way, straightening and tidying everything on the table and -around the bed, returned to her work, I watched her very attentively, -and I am afraid very rudely, from the slight color that arose in her -pale cheek as she caught my eye again and again fixed on her -inquiringly. She was a middle-aged woman, about middle-size, with -nothing peculiar in dress or manner, except a scrupulous precision and -neatness. Her hair was very grey, but her face was a younger one than -you would have expected to see, after looking at her slightly-stooping -figure and white hair. Her skin was unwrinkled and clear, her eyes soft -and brown, and the sweetest possible smile sometimes stirred her lips. -But it died very quickly always, and never seemed to come voluntarily; -only "when called for," and then to cheer or comfort some one -else--never because of any happy emotion within, that found that -expression for itself. She conveyed the idea of a woman who had been a -very high-spirited and impetuous one, but who was now a very broken and -sad one; a soul - - ----"By nature pitched too high, - By sufferings plunged too low," - -but now past struggle and rebellion, subdued and desolated, waiting -patiently for the end. This much I read, or thought I read, in her quiet -face, as still leaning on my elbow, I watched her movements. I was -irresistibly attracted to her, and essayed to continue our brief -conversation, by saying: - -"Hasn't 'that Kitty,' as Mrs. Roberts calls her, been here since I have -been sick?" - -"She has been here, and went away only half an hour ago, to get some of -your things. I expect her back every minute." - -"I thought I'd seen her," I rejoined, meditatively. "And how about Mrs. -Roberts, has she been here?" - -"She has; she was here all yesterday afternoon." - -I lay quite still for a little while, then said, rather abruptly: - -"I can't exactly make it out--where am I, and whose house is this?" - -Mrs. Arnold smiled kindly, and turning toward me, said: - -"You have been too sick to know much about anything; you are at the -Parsonage, and this is Mr. Shenstone's house, and I am Mr. Shenstone's -housekeeper. And now do not puzzle your head with any more thinking; ask -me any questions you want to know, and then try to lie quiet." - -"I think I've been quiet long enough in all conscience!" I said, with -energy. "I feel a great deal better, Mrs. Arnold." - -"I am very glad to hear it, Miss. Will you have something to eat?" - -"What can I have?" - -"Some very nice gruel, Miss, or some"---- - -"Wait a minute, Mrs. Arnold," I said, rising up and speaking very -impressively; "there is no use, indeed there is no use, in asking me to -take such things; I never can, and you will only have to give it up at -last. Miss Crowen had to; I stood it out till she thought I was going to -die on her hands, I believe, and had to give me something decent at -last. People are always trying to make me eat gruel, and farina, and -arrowroot, and beef-tea, and such miseries, just as soon as I'm in the -least bit sick, and begin to care what I eat. Now don't you be so -unkind, will you, dear Mrs. Arnold?" - -Mrs. Arnold smiled; it was the doctor, she said, who had prescribed the -gruel; if he was willing to give me something nicer, she should be very -happy to prepare it for me. - -"Do you know," I said, mysteriously, "that as a general thing, I don't -think much of doctors? Country doctors least of all. One's common sense -is the best guide in most cases. Why, it stands to reason, that I know -better what I ought to have to eat, when I'm not well, than a great -strong man does, who never lost his appetite in his life, and doesn't in -the least care what he has to eat, as long as there's enough of it! I am -the best judge, you must see plainly, Mrs. Arnold." - -Mrs. Arnold shook her head; doctors mightn't know what we would like, -she said, always, but it was just possible they might know what was best -for us, being disinterested judges. Didn't I think so? - -"By no means," I exclaimed, "unless they are peculiarly intelligent -men, and not like that odious Dr. Sartain, who nearly frightened me to -death, and nearly killed Mr. Rutledge, by setting his arm badly. Mr. -Rutledge himself is ten times better a doctor. He can tell what's the -matter with people by just looking at them; and," I continued, coming -abruptly back to the point of interest, and hoping to carry it by the -suddenness of the attack, "he would never make any one eat water-gruel -if they hated it. I'm positive, if you asked him, he'd say, 'let her -have what she wants, of course, it cannot do her any harm.'" - -Mrs. Arnold shook her head again, and said: - -"Ah, Miss, it's very hard to say 'no;' but it must be, till the doctor -comes, whom I am expecting every minute." - -"What's the doctor's name?" - -"His name is Hugh, Miss; a very fine young man they say; he is just -settled in the village, and every one is very much pleased with him; he -is getting all the practice away from Dr. Sartain, who, though he lives -so far away, has been for a long time the nearest physician. But here's -his gig at the door now," continued she, coming up to the bed. "Are you -ready to see him?" - -"Yes, quite," I answered; and she hurried down to usher up the doctor. - -Now I had my own views regarding this gentleman, and all Mrs. Arnold's -commendation could not change the current of my feelings toward him; so -when he approached my bedside, it was a very slight and stiff -recognition that his arrival elicited from me. He did not seem a whit -annoyed by it, however, and with unruffled blandness, laid down his hat -and gloves, and seated himself, while Mrs. Arnold stood at the foot of -the bed, unobtrusively attentive. - -The new doctor was a good-sized, good-looking man, with reddish hair and -whiskers, and very white teeth and very light eyes. That he "hailed" -from New England no one could doubt after five minutes spent in his -society; equality and fraternity, go-a-head-i-tiveness and -go-to-the-deuce-if-you-get-in-my-way-itiveness were still visible to an -impartial eye, under all the layers of suavity, professional decorum and -good breeding, with which his educational residence in the metropolis -had plastered over the native roughnesses of his rustic breeding. If the -chill penury that usually represses the noble rage of the New England -youth, had not been defeated of its cruel purpose by a "little annuity" -from his maternal grandfather, elevating him from the plough to the -practice of medicine, one could not help thinking how fine a specimen of -the genuine Yankee he would have been. How he would have risen from a -boyhood devoted to whittling, swapping, and carting lumber, to a youth -engaged in itinerant mercantile transactions, and an early manhood -consecrate to science and literature, in the onerous post of -common-school teacher. The hero he would have been at quiltings and at -singing-schools! The bargains he would have driven in tin and -garden-seeds, exchanged for feathers and rags! The matchless cuteness, -the inherent cunning, that would have marked his career! - - "But whither would conjecture stray?" - -The little annuity ($150) had intervened, and Dr. Hugh stood before the -public a professional gentleman in the midst of a growing practice, a -rising man in a country where, once started, it is easier to rise than -to sit still. He was, at the moment when I was making these reflections -on his character, suavely regarding me, and had softly laid two fingers -upon my wrist, and, with head slightly inclined, was counting my pulse. -The result gratified him; for looking up with a complacency that -indicated very plainly the source to which he attributed the -improvement, he said, addressing Mrs. Arnold: - -"A marked change for the better, madam--a marked change." - -It was an involuntary thing for me to pull my hand impatiently from his -continued touch, and to turn my head away, so disagreeably did his -manner impress me. No change of tone, however, indicated any resentment -as he said, in apology for me, as it appeared: - -"A little restless and feverish yet, I am afraid." - -"On the contrary," I said, with great distinctness, turning toward him -again, "on the contrary, I never felt quieter or less feverish in my -life. I am quite well, except a little weakness, which will be remedied -by allowing me suitable and nourishing food; and Mrs. Arnold is only -waiting for your permission to get me some broiled chicken and roast -oysters, which I have no doubt you are perfectly willing to allow." - -The doctor looked astonished at this emphatic declaration and -proposition, and for a space seemed inclined to resist such unheard of -demands; but seeing, no doubt, the hopelessness of bringing me to -reason, and the fear of alienating irretrievably so important a patient -as the guest at the great house, he thought it best to yield as -graciously as possible. The idea of losing the chance of the Rutledge -patronage was not to be entertained for a moment, and it is my opinion -that, with a view to averting such a blow to his success, he would have -conceded me an unlimited grant of lobster-salad and turtle soup, if I -had been pleased to fancy those viands. As it was, however, I bore my -triumph very unexcitedly, merely giving Mrs. Arnold a significant look, -which indicated as much hungry complacency as was consistent with my -dignity; upon which she proposed descending to prepare my meal, and -Kitty entering just then, she considered herself no longer necessary, -and withdrew for that purpose. The doctor being engaged in writing a -prescription, I had nothing to distract my attention from Kitty, who -overwhelmed me with congratulations upon my improved condition; which -congratulations, however, I could not with sincerity return, for having, -in her eagerness, run every step of the way to Rutledge and back, her -condition was best described by the inelegant term, "blown." - -"But oh, Miss," she exclaimed, in panting incoherency, "it is so nice to -see you opening your eyes and taking notice! Mr. Rutledge will be so -glad!" - -"How is he, and why didn't he come?" I asked. - -"Well," said Kitty, candidly, "I wasn't to tell you, but _I_ don't see -the harm. Mr. Rutledge's arm has been bad again, and he can't go out of -the house. But here's a note for you from him." - -And Kitty pulled from her apron-pocket a note, that I seized eagerly. -And forgetting doctor and maid, with flushed cheeks and parted lips, I -read and reread the brief note--very brief, but very characteristic--kind, -almost tender--concise, pithy, and vigorous, with just a dash of humor -and raillery at the close, and "Always your friend, Arthur Rutledge." -With a pleased smile, my eyes lingered over the words, till raising them -inadvertently, they encountered the doctor's, fixed searchingly on my -face. He averted them in an instant, however, but not before he had -caught a sight of the quick blush that mounted to my temples. - -"I was thinking," he said, apologetically, "I was thinking that the -light was rather strong for your eyes. Shall not the young woman darken -the window a little?" - -I rejected the proposal contemptuously, and the medical gentleman, after -an abortive attempt at a compliment, and a bow that was a shade less -complacent than usual, took his leave. - -"I hate that man!" I exclaimed, as the door closed behind him. "I never -shall learn to treat him civilly." - -Kitty shrugged her shoulders. - -"The people in the village think there's nobody like him. He's got a -very taking way with all the common folks, putting his arm around the -women's waists, and patting the men on the shoulder, and talking to -everybody alike. But I don't like the look of him, for all his -fair-and-softly ways. And he's been watching you, Miss, for the last -five minutes, as a cat watches a mouse." - -I bit my lip, but merely said: - -"No matter, Kitty; he may be a good doctor for all that, and he will not -have a chance to watch me much longer, I hope. You may darken the -window; I believe he was right about that matter, and I'll try to sleep -a little till my breakfast, or whatever it is, comes up. In the -meantime, perhaps you had better go and see if you cannot help Mrs. -Arnold." - -Kitty obeyed, and in a few minutes I was left alone, but unluckily with -no very pleasant thoughts to keep me company, and no overtures from -tired nature's sweet restorer either, to put them to flight. I was very -much irritated at the doctor's manner, and a good deal annoyed at having -expressed my irritation so warmly to Kitty; and compunctious visitings -also troubled me about my self-will on the subject of the broiled -chicken and oysters, to which was added a confused sort of penitential -alarm about the purloined riding-skirt, and to crown all, a startling -discovery, that made me absolutely weak with fright. - -The miniature, which for some time past had been vacillating between my -pocket and my trunk, as its safety demanded, had, on the afternoon of my -ride, being lying on the table before me, while I was dressing, but on -an alarm of Mrs. Roberts' approach, I had thrown the ribbon around my -neck, and hid it in my bosom, whence, in my hurry and excitement, I had -forgotten to take it, and it had remained there during my ride, for I -remembered feeling it, with no pleasant association at the time either, -while I was waiting for Michael on the common. This I distinctly -remembered, and--now it was gone. That was all I knew; that was enough -to make me sick with fright. I covered up my face, and lay quiet, but -very miserable. What would I not have given if I had never touched that -miniature, or worn that skirt. The business of deceit was new to me, and -in proportion it looked black. I had almost fretted myself into a -fever, when Mrs. Arnold reappeared with my _goute_, most temptingly -arranged upon the cleanest of china and whitest of napkins. She placed -it by me, and announced that it was ready. - -I looked up in her face, my own rather flushed, no doubt, and said: - -"You see he let me have it, Mrs. Arnold." - -"I see he did, Miss," she answered, quite gravely. - -"I knew he would; I was right after all." - -"I hope so, Miss." - -Her grave looks troubled me. I did not take the knife and fork she -offered me, but looking at her earnestly, I said, abruptly: - -"Mrs. Arnold, honestly, do you think that's bad for me?" - -She looked somewhat startled by my question, but answered quietly: - -"Honestly, Miss, I think it is a risk; but the doctor has consented, and -I have nothing to say." - -"Very well," I said, pushing the table back, "I am sorry to have given -you so much trouble for nothing. Will you warm that gruel for me." - -Mrs. Arnold paused in the act of raising the cover from the oysters: - -"Do you mean, Miss, that you do not intend to eat this?" - -"Yes," I said, concisely, "I will take the gruel, if you'll warm it, -please. There's fire enough there." - -She gave me rather a curious look; then quietly removed the tray into -the hall, and proceeded to warm the gruel. I swallowed the tasteless -compound without flinching, while Mrs. Arnold watched me silently, and -took away the emptied bowl without a word of comment. I lay very silent -but very sleepless till Kitty came up; then watched anxiously till Mrs. -Arnold should leave the room, which she was very long in doing. When at -last she did, I started up, exclaiming: - -"Bolt that door, and come here, Kitty!" - -She obeyed, but not very cheerfully, I fancied; indeed there had been a -shade of anxiety on her face for some time. - -"Kitty," I said, hurriedly and gravely, "I've lost the miniature; do you -know anything about it?" - -She did not look surprised, but very unhappy, as she answered: - -"I know it's gone, Miss; but where, I know no more than the dead." - -She then explained--that that night, just after she had been sent for, -and arrived, as she came into the study where I was lying, she found Mr. -Shenstone and the doctor both standing by me, Mrs. Arnold at the fire, -preparing some medicine; Mr. Rutledge had just passed her in the hall. I -seemed delirious, for I started up and exclaimed something incoherently, -then fell back, and Mr. Shenstone stooping down, said something -soothingly, but instantly started back, with an exclamation of dismay -and astonishment, which of course did not escape either the doctor or -Kitty. The latter hurried up, and stole a glance at me, and she could -scarcely repress a similar cry when she saw the guilty miniature, which -had slipped from my dress, lying in full view. Mr. Shenstone's face was -pale, and he put his hand to his forehead, as if in pain. Her only hope -was, that the light being dim, he had not seen it distinctly, and now -the thing was to get it away before either he or the doctor had had a -second look. Giving the table-cover a sudden jerk, she precipitated the -lamp upon the floor, and involved the room in sudden darkness. -Deprecating her awkwardness, she hurried to pick up the lamp. While the -others were engaged in remedying the accident, and finding a light, -about which there seemed much difficulty, she stole to where I lay, and -attempted to rescue the miniature; but, alas! in vain. Some one had -been there before her, and a cold hand on my breast touched hers, as she -groped for it, and was suddenly withdrawn. It was not my hand, for mine -were burning with fever; and when, after a moment more of delay, a light -was struck, Mrs. Arnold and Mr. Shenstone stood in the middle of the -room by the table, and the doctor at the opposite end, by the -mantelpiece, looking for some matches that Mrs. Arnold had said were -kept there. She looked down at me; I lay quietly, one hand under my -head, the other at my side. An end of blue ribbon hung from my dress; it -had been cut off hastily, for a glance told her the edge was too smooth -to have been torn. - -Kitty was a keen observer, and her whole heart was in this mystery; she -watched, as if her life had depended on it, to see who should betray the -least sign of guilt, but she was completely baffled. Certainly not Mr. -Shenstone; he even looked curiously at the ribbon, and then sternly at -Kitty, as if supposing she had taken it; not the doctor, for he was at -the other end of the room, and was more unconcerned and indifferent than -any one present; not Mrs. Arnold, for not having been beside me when the -miniature slipped from my dress, she could not have seen it, and -consequently she could not have taken it in the dark, and so readily -too. - -"Ah!" Kitty exclaimed, "I passed a dreadful night, Miss; I didn't know -what it was to close my eyes; such awful thoughts as would come!" - -"What do you mean?" I said hurriedly. "Which of them do you think has -it?" - -"Ah, Miss!" she exclaimed, with a burst of tears, "I wish I thought any -of 'em had it! I've had enough of meddling with dead people's things for -the rest of my life, that I have!" - -"I wish you would speak intelligibly; what do you mean?" I exclaimed, -angrily. - -Kitty answered by fresh tears, "Oh, don't make me talk about it! Indeed, -I cannot!" - -"I shall be very much displeased if you act in this way any longer," I -said, with emphasis, as Kitty still shook her head. I heard footsteps in -the hall; catching her arm, I exclaimed: - -"Tell me instantly what you mean!" - -"Oh, Miss!" she whispered, white and trembling, "that hand, that awful -hand! It was colder than any stone, and sent a chill through me when I -touched it; I never, never can"---- - -"You foolish girl," I exclaimed, impatiently, "I didn't think you were -so silly"---- - -But at that moment some one knocked at the door, and Kitty, wiping her -eyes and smoothing her hair, ran to open it. It was only Mary, with some -coal; but it interrupted our conversation, which could only after that -be resumed by broken snatches, wherein I urgently impressed upon Kitty -my certainty of the miniature's being in possession of one or other of -the parties in the room at the time of its disappearance, and the entire -contempt in which I held her superstitious theory in regard to it. -Kitty's belief on that point, however, could not be shaken, and I grew -weary of reiterating my arguments. At last I found an opportunity, when -we were alone, to propound another question: - -"What has been done about the riding-skirt?" - -"Oh, Miss," exclaimed Kitty, uneasily, "why do you worry about those -things now? It will make your head ache to talk; I know master wouldn't -like it." - -Kitty soon saw the futility of attempting to evade the matter; so she -gave me a plain commonsensical statement of affairs, commencing from the -moment I dashed down the avenue on Madge Wildfire's back; from which -time it appeared, her difficulties began. Mrs. Roberts, after watching -us out of the gate, the storm on her brow blackening every instant, -turned away with a determined step, and entering the house, called to -Kitty, saying she was in a great hurry for the dress she had given her -to press off; she had important business at the Parsonage, and there was -no time to lose. - -"I don't think you'll find Mr. Shenstone home, ma'am," Kitty had -volunteered. "I saw him passing along the road toward Norbury, when I -was down at the lodge half an hour ago." - -This information had appeared to give great disquietude to Mrs. Roberts, -and in consequence of it, she had given up her plan of going out, and -had retired misanthropically to her room, while Kitty had danced down to -the kitchen in great glee, to communicate to Sylvie her narrow escape. -But in half an hour, Mrs. Roberts' bell rang hastily, and Kitty -apprehensively went up to answer it. - -"I have concluded, after all," said that lady, "to go to the Parsonage, -and leave a note for Mr. Shenstone if he is not in; so get my dress for -me as quickly as you can." - -"Yes, ma'am," Kitty had answered; but in passing the window, she had -cast a look out. "It's most five o'clock now, ma'am, you'll be caught -out in the dark; hadn't Thomas better run down with the note for you? Or -maybe I could go?" - -But Mrs. Roberts was quite firm. "No, she did not care to trust to any -one but herself in this case." And again she desired her to get the -dress with all haste. Haste she certainly did make, in getting to the -kitchen and calling Sylvie into consultation; which measure, however, -did not tend to elucidate in any great degree the problem that at -present perplexed her brain. Sylvie was one of the "raving distracted" -kind, and invariably lost her wits on occasion of their being -particularly required, and the only assistance she attempted to render, -in this trying emergency, was ejaculatory and interjectional condolence -on the apparent hopelessness of the case. Kitty, in disgust, slammed -the door in her face, put her hands to her head in a wild way for a -moment, then bounded upstairs again. - -"Oh, dear Mrs. Roberts," she exclaimed, as she entered the room, "it -struck me on my way down, that perhaps you'd rather wear your old black -silk instead of that nice bombazine, as it is getting so late, and the -road is so dusty. We haven't had rain, you know, for an age." - -Mrs. Roberts drew herself up. Was she or was she not capable of judging -what clothes she was to put on? Would it be necessary for her to go down -and get the dress she wanted herself? - -"By _no_ means," Kitty said; and starting forth again, sat herself down -on the third step of the stairs, in direst perplexity. But time pressed; -there was no leisure for deliberation. She flew to a closet where some -superannuated garments of the housekeeper's hung, selected the most -presentable of the series of black bombazine skirts suspended in -funereal rows upon the pegs; darted back, and with great composure, laid -it on the sofa, while, with officious zeal, she proceeded to divest Mrs. -Roberts of her house-costume, and invest her with her walking-dress. By -skillfully interposing her person between the dress and the strong -light, and putting it on and arranging it entirely with her own hands, -she escaped detection. And arrayed in this ancient garment, the -housekeeper sallied forth on her way to the Parsonage. - -Too anxious to be triumphant this time, Kitty stole out after her, to -see the effect of the sunlight upon the foxy, faded black; but Mrs. -Roberts was too much engrossed with cankering cares of a sterner kind, -to think of her bombazine. - -At the gate, however, to her great content, she encountered Mr. -Shenstone on his way from Norbury, and stopping him, held a long and -anxious consultation with him (in which, said Kitty, _par parenthese_, -"I overheard her say some pretty things about you; but no matter)." She -then parted from the clergyman, and returned slowly toward the house, -Kitty following anxiously behind the hedge. The setting sun threw the -most dazzling beams down the avenue. Kitty's heart beat, as she saw the -housekeeper cast her eyes meditatively upon her dress; then, as the -sunlight struck full upon it, she stooped a little down, and paused, and -looked again, and again adjusted her glasses. She began, in truth, to -"smell a rat," for passing her hand rapidly over the front breadth, she -shook her head doubtingly, then lifted the suspicious garment to the -sunlight, then holding it at arms' length, uttered an exclamation of -surprise, turned it up, and examining the hem all around, dropped it; -turned the pocket inside out--felt of the band around the -waist--recognized its unfamiliarity--and with a low muttering of -suppressed wrath, gathered herself up, and hastened toward the house. - -"It's all up!" groaned poor Kitty, as, by the back way, she darted into -the kitchen, and awaited with trembling the pull of Mrs. Roberts' bell. - -"Kitty Carter," said Mrs. Roberts, in an awful voice, as she entered the -room, "you have been practising upon me in an abominable manner. I have -borne your saucy ways for a long time, but the end has now come. You -can't deceive me; I'm too quick for you, and you shall be exposed. It's -my intention to make Mr. Rutledge acquainted with your deceitful -practices; and that, you are aware, is just the same as giving you -warning; for Mr. Rutledge has never been known to endure anything of the -kind in his house." - -Kitty quailed under this attack; but, rallying in a moment, asked Mrs. -Roberts if she'd please tell her what was the matter? Her answer was a -peremptory order to bring up the dress she had given her in the morning. -For once in her life, Kitty had nothing to say; while Mrs. Roberts -exclaimed: - -"It's my belief, Kitty Carter, that dress is lying where I put it this -morning, and that you haven't touched it." - -"I wish from my soul I hadn't," thought the unlucky girl. - -"Now go down this moment and fetch it to me, finished or unfinished, or -you forfeit your place." - -The only way that opened for Kitty, was to assume a position, good or -bad, and maintain it through thick and thin. Therefore, with staunch -determination, she replied: - -"I have not done the dress, ma'am; I didn't think you'd want it so soon; -and I had rather not bring it up till it's finished." - -"This minute, or you lose your place," said the exasperated housekeeper. - -Kitty respectfully resisted the demand; it was contrary to her -principles to give up work half finished. If Mrs. Roberts would give her -time, she would do it; but before the dress was in order, she must -decline bringing it up. - -Then the storm burst in all its fury. Sylvie was called up; Mrs. Roberts -made a descent in person upon the kitchen, which was placed under -martial law, Thomas and two of the stable-boys guarding the different -entrances, while Dorothy and one of the farm-hands accompanied Mrs. -Roberts in her inquisitorial progress through the lower departments. -Altogether, such a tragedy had not convulsed the basement of Rutledge -for many a long year; not, indeed, since the pranks of Kitty's childhood -had been the scandal of the place. Kitty remembered with comfort, that -she had weathered more than one storm there; and remembering this, took -heart again, though, it must be confessed, things looked black enough. -The dress not being and appearing anywhere, "from garret to basement," -Kitty Carter was formally pronounced suspended from her duties, until -such time as Mr. Rutledge, being informed of her offences, should -himself dismiss her from the house. - -To that dark crisis had succeeded the alarm produced by the -non-appearance of the equestrian party; then the consternation -consequent upon the arrival of Michael, several hours later, announcing -that the young lady had been lost, hunted for, and found, by all the men -in the village, and was now lying, half dead, at the Parsonage; and, -finally, that by order of Mr. Rutledge, Kitty, her maid, was to repair -thither immediately to attend upon her. This materially changed the look -of affairs; and it was hoped, by the anti-administration party, that the -storm had blown over, and, in the new excitement, would be forgotten. -But such hopes were futile indeed, and entertained by weak minds, not -capable of sounding the depths of a resentment such as rankled in Mrs. -Roberts' recollection. The very next day, in a solemn interview in the -library, Mr. Rutledge was informed of the nature of the complaint -against Kitty, and distinctly declared, that unless the matter was very -shortly cleared up, he should be under the necessity of dismissing her -from his service. And this sword was now hanging over poor Kitty's head; -and Kitty's stout heart was sinking at the prospect of the only -punishment that could have had much terror for her; for Rutledge was the -only home she had ever known, and the only place she loved. - -"But it doesn't signify," she said bravely, dashing away a furtive tear; -"I can get another place, and I'll look out that there's no Mrs. Roberts -in the family." - -"But, Kitty," I exclaimed, "why didn't you tell? Mr. Rutledge would have -overlooked it, I know." - -"What, _tell!_" cried Kitty, scornfully, "and get you into trouble, too? -No, indeed, I know Mr. Rutledge well enough to know he'd have been angry -with you as well as with me; and if you take my advice, Miss, you won't -say a word about it. One's enough to take the blow; it won't make it any -easier to have another getting it too. Just let the matter stand as it -is; it will be all right. There, don't fret!" she exclaimed, cheerfully; -"it worries me to death to see you mind it so! Why, Miss, it's nothing; -how need you care?" - -"But, Kitty," I exclaimed, clinging to a last hope, "was the dress much -spoiled?" - -"Oh dear, yes! muddied, torn, stained, as if you'd been dragged through -the streets in it." Our conversation was again abruptly brought to a -close by the advent of Mary, this time with a message to Kitty from Mrs. -Arnold, desiring her help downstairs. - -And again, turning my face to the pillow, with a miserable sigh, I was -left alone. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - - - "The very gentlest of all human natures - He joined to courage strong, - And love outreaching unto all God's creatures, - With sturdy hate of wrong." - -WHITTIER. - - -Evening was closing in, and filling the little room where I lay with -fitful shadows, which the tiny blaze of fire in the grate was -incompetent to dispel. If it had been possible for me to be more -miserable than I had been all day, I should indeed have "loathed the -hour" when gloom and darkness so palpably and hopelessly descend, but -the climax of misery and self-reproach had been reached by daylight, and -outward dreariness could only increase, in a very slight degree, the -inward gloom. The faults I had been guilty of, and the errors into which -I had led, or allowed Kitty to go, seemed to me, and justly, the first -steps in a most dangerous path. I fully realized the sins, and their -effect upon my conscience, apart from their consequences and punishment. -These last, I was aware, were hard enough. I knew I had done what must -lower me in Mr. Rutledge's esteem; to be the accomplice in a deception, -however slight, was to sink just that much in his regard, whose rigid -truthfulness and honor were offended by the least prevarication. I knew -I had given Mrs. Roberts grounds for all her former distrust and -aversion, and placed myself lower than she could have estimated me. -Above all, poor Kitty was the victim on whom it fell hardest, and how -much of the blame of not checking her or guiding her right lay on my -shoulders, I dared not think. I was really attached to the brave, -quick-witted girl, and remembered, with humiliation, how ignorant and -untaught she was, and how naturally and unavoidably her faults were the -results of her unguided impetuosity, while mine were committed in the -light of an instructed conscience and educated intellect. - -But with me to suffer pain, was to seek some cure for it. My repentances -were not often fruitless; I could no more have lain there, and endured -that self-reproach, without resolving on some way to allay it, than I -could have submitted to a dagger in my breast without attempting to draw -it out. The only remedy I could see, was painful enough, but there was -no help for it. - -"Mrs. Arnold," I implored, "do put down your work, and come and sit by -me; I want to ask you something." - -Mrs. Arnold left her seat by the window, and laying down the knitting -that her rapid fingers plied alike through daylight and darkness, came -to my bedside and sat down. She saw I was excited and feverish, and in -her gentle way strove to soothe and amuse me. She talked of a great many -things about the parish that she thought might interest me--of the -school children, and the Christmas festivities that were preparing, and -in some way Rutledge was spoken of, and its dullness and gloominess. - -"But I don't think it's gloomy in the least," I said; "I think it's the -most beautiful place I ever was in in my life. Don't you think it's -delightful?" - -"I used to think so," she said, sadly. - -"Have you been there lately?" I demanded. - -"Never since I left it first," she answered, musingly. - -"Then you lived there once?" - -She assented half unconsciously. - -"What were you?" I asked, very suddenly; "were you housekeeper?" - -"No, I was governess, Miss," she answered; then started, as if she had -said more than she had intended, and hastily turned the conversation to -something else. But I could not so quickly turn my thoughts. This woman, -then, who tended me, with sad, soft eyes and voice, had been the -governess and companion of Alice--had known from the beginning the storm -that had burst over Rutledge, and was herself, perhaps, involved in this -dark story of the past, that was meeting me at every turn. The miniature -would have startled her, perhaps, if she could have seen it. What if -she, in reality, had it now, and hers was the cold hand upon my breast -that had seized it? But no; Kitty was sure it was not. And then my -thoughts reverted to my own remorse and trouble that had only been -momentarily lulled by Mrs. Arnold's conversation. There was a pause just -then, and raising myself on my elbow, I said, looking intently at my -companion: - -"Mrs. Arnold, did you ever confess a sin to Mr. Shenstone, and ask -counsel of him when you were very miserable?" - -At my words, Mrs. Arnold gave a start; but recovering herself, she said, -in a voice somewhat agitated: - -"Why do you ask me such a question?" - -"Because," I said, too much absorbed in my own trouble to heed her -agitation, "because I am very miserable, and don't know exactly what to -do; I am sure he is the only one who can help me, and I must tell him -before I sleep to-night, if only I can get the courage! Oh, Mrs. Arnold! -tell me, is he very severe? Or will he be kind--and would you dare, if -you were me?" - -"I cannot tell what trouble you have on your mind, but I can answer for -it, if human help can lighten it, Mr. Shenstone will give you all the -help he can. And if it is but between you and heaven, he will show you -the way to get at peace. Oh, my dear young lady! you need not be afraid -to open your heart to one who knows so much about God's mercy and men's -sins. You need not be afraid but that he will be as tender as he is -wise; indeed, you need not fear him." - -She spoke rapidly and earnestly; her whole manner of precision and -composure seemed to be broken down and melted before some recollection -that my trouble seemed to recall. I laid my burning hand in hers, and -said with a sigh: - -"Oh, if I only dared!" - -"But why should you fear?" she continued, earnestly. "Why should you -fear, when I tell you that he has only kindness and pity in his -heart--that he has looked with forbearance and compassion on blacker -sins than ever stained your young soul; and when I tell you--for I have -reason to know--that he can bring light out of darkness, and can show a -way of peace to even the most tortured and despairing. It may," she -continued, "be but a very little sin that is weighing on you, and -turning you out of the right way; but from little sins grow heavy -punishments, and better find now the best way of putting it out of your -heart, and putting something good in its stead. You have all life before -you," she said, with a weary sigh, "and repentance is easier and more -hopeful work, than it is to come back, when one has spent one's -inheritance of life in sin, having nothing to offer heaven but fruitless -tears." - -Her voice trembled with emotion; she looked pityingly at me as, -struggling to keep back my tears, I hid my face in the pillow, and -caressing the hand that still lay in hers, she went on to persuade me to -the only remedy she knew for my unhappiness. I still felt shudderingly -afraid to make the dreadful effort, and faltered something about my fear -of his goodness and superiority, and the contempt he would feel for me -when he knew how weak and sinful I had been. - -"Would it give you courage," she said, in a low tone, "to know how he -once received the repentance of a very miserable woman--a woman who had -not only sinned against heaven, but against him--who had done more than -any one else to blight his happiness and make his life desolate, but -who, having met the due reward of her deeds, came back to die in misery -where she had failed to live in innocence? Shall I tell you of this?" - -I whispered "Yes," and she went on in a low voice: - -"It is no matter what the sins were that brought me to the misery I -shall tell you of; it is no matter whether they were committed for -myself, or for the love of one whom I would have died to serve; it is no -matter for me to tell you that they grew from little unchecked thoughts -of pride and self-will, and little half-intended acts of deception, into -the monster sins that overshadowed my life; it is enough that I had come -to the recompense of them--that in remorse, in utter consternation, I -mourned as one without hope. What did I know of hope? Six feet of -foreign mound covered the remains of her I had served and sinned for. -Shame and infamy covered her name; hope was dead in my heart; faith had -never been lit there. Alone in a land of strangers, there was but one -longing in my breast that exceeded the desire for death, and that was -the craving to see home again. It makes me shudder even now to recall -that journey--weary months of fatigue, and exposure and misery; the only -thought that kept me up, a dreary one at best, to see home once more, -and die before a word of reproach could stab me, or a familiar voice -recall the wretched past. - -"It was a still, clear December night, when, footsore and weary, I saw, -with a strange thrill, the lights of a little village, that my heart -told me was the little village I had come thousands of miles to see, and -that I had not seen nor heard from since my guilty flight, long years -ago, on a December night, still and cold as this. I hurried on, my -sinking strength nerved up for a last effort, till I should reach a -woody knoll I knew overlooked the village, and there, I said, I will -die. In my hand I held what I knew would free me; I had carried it in my -bosom for months and months, only waiting for this moment. At last I -reached the spot, and sinking down on the hard ground, covered my face a -moment with my hands, then looked down upon the scene before me. There -lay the village, its white houses gleaming in the moonlight--there the -familiar road wound round the foot of the hill--there was the broad -street, the old mill, the placid lake in the distance, and beyond it, -clear against the sky, the dark outlines of Rutledge; massive, and -gloomy, and lifeless, it stood far off from the cheery village, with its -animation and content. Not a window of the little hamlet but showed a -kindly light, while the great house beyond was dark and silent--not a -gleam of light from all its sombre front. A horror and remorse that you -cannot understand came over me, such as I had thought my dead heart was -incapable of harboring; then despair settled on it again, and I prepared -for death. But as I was looking--and I was not dreaming--between the -desolate house and me, distinct against the dark woods, there shone out -a silver cross. I was not dreaming--I was terribly awake; but there it -glittered, still and bright. Not a sound broke the stillness of the -frosty air, not another feature in the landscape changed; I strained my -eyes to catch the least wavering or fading of the distinct lines, but -calm and clear the holy sign still lit the dark stretch of woodland -between me and Rutledge, and never wavered or faded. I was not -superstitious, but this came to me like a token from heaven, and I held -the fatal vial unopened in my hand. What if this was meant to tell me -there was forgiveness yet--that there was a sanctifying calm even over -the cold desolation of that dark house--that the sins were done away, -and that mercy had shone out. With that sign before me, I did not dare -to add that one sin more to those I had already committed; I did not -dare to die by my own hand. And then a desire took possession of me to -know something of what had passed in all these years, or if there was, -indeed, none remaining to loathe and execrate me. And finally, hiding -the vial in my bosom, I crept down, and keeping my eye still fixed on -the shining cross, I turned into the broad street that led to the -village. One after another of the cheerful lights I passed, not daring -to go in, pausing before each gate, and then hurrying on, determined to -try the next. By and by, the cross was lost among the trees, and my -courage began to fail, when, on a sudden, I found myself at the gate of -a church-yard, and looking up, saw, what was most unexpected and -unfamiliar, the arches and spire of a little church, on the site of the -neglected old graveyard I remembered; and there, above it, gleamed the -cross that had stayed my hand from suicide, which, catching the rays of -the rising moon, had shone out with such a message of mercy. - -"I opened the little gate, and stealing across the churchyard, bent down -to read the names upon the graves that had been made since I had been -away. I mournfully traced out one familiar name after another, till, -with a groan, I turned away from the gloomy spot, and shutting the gate, -struck off into the road again. I dragged on, till I reached the -outskirts of the village, then sat down to rest. A single light, at a -little distance, shone from a cottage on the edge of the woods, that I -knew bordered Rutledge Park. A boy passed by me, and summoning courage, -I stopped him, and asked him what house that was. 'The Parsonage,' he -said. And there, I thought, is where I will go, and hear, perhaps, -whether there is any hope for such as me in either world. When I reached -the low gate of the garden in front of it, I did not allow myself time -to think, but walked down the path, and stepping on the little porch, -knocked faintly at the door. The blinds of the window where the light -was, being open, I looked in, and saw the only occupant of it, who had -been reading by the lamp on the table, rise to answer my knock. - -"'Can I see the clergyman?' I asked, in a low voice. - -"'Come in, this way,' he said, kindly, leading the way to the room he -had left; 'I am the clergyman.' - -"He told me to sit down by the fire, and then, in a tone that moved me -strangely, asked if he could help or direct me in any way. - -"I was too near the gate of death to see in him anything but the -minister of God; and, forgetting that he was a man and a stranger, began -in a broken, husky voice, the recital of the doubts and the despair I -had been fighting with. I do not know how much of my story I betrayed, -or what, in this extremity of wretchedness, I said; but pausing at the -end, and frightened by his silence, I raised my eyes, and faltered: - -"'Would God have mercy after that, do you think?' - -"The clergyman's face was white as mine: his voice shook as he said: - -"'If He has let you live, He means to forgive you, you may be sure.' - -"'He has let me live,' I said, eagerly, and I told him of the cross that -had held me back from suicide. He pressed his hand before his eyes, then -said, after a moment, in a broken voice: - -"'Take it for a sign, then, that He is waiting to be gracious; that -there is peace on earth, as well as mercy in heaven, for you.' - -"'Never peace; I have no right to hope for that, only a chance of pardon -before I die.' - -"'A sure hope of pardon, if you verily repent, and a sure sense of -peace, if you strive to put in deeds, the repentance that God has put in -your heart.' - -"'There is nothing left in life for me to do,' I said, with a bitter -sigh. - -"'So I thought once,' he said, 'but I have learned that God never leaves -a soul on earth, without leaving some work for it to do, to keep it from -despair, some sin to be atoned for, some duty to be fulfilled. Can you -think of none?' - -"'None,' I said; 'there is nothing left for me, my repentance comes too -late; there is none left but my weary self, to profit by it.' - -"'There is a work I know of waiting for you, Rachel Arnold,' he said, in -a voice that thrilled through and through me. It all came upon me then; -with a low cry, I started up and sprang toward the door; but he -interposed. - -"'Let me go,' I cried; 'I cannot face you in this world! Wait, before -you bring your accusation, till we are at God's tribunal! Let me go, and -I will never offend your sight again. Oh! why are you not dead, like all -the rest? Why are you left to drive me back to despair again?' And in an -agony I sank down at his feet. - -"'I am left,' he said, raising me up, 'to guide you back to peace and -duty; to tell you of God's infinite loving kindness, and to show you how -much of hope there is for you, in this world and in the next; and to -assure you, if you need the assurance, that I as utterly forgive you, as -I hope for God's forgiveness for myself.' - -"'You never would say so,' I murmured, 'if you knew all.' - -"'I know enough to understand your remorse; the rest you can tell to -God; I say again, from my soul, I forgive you.' - -"But I never raised my face, nor looked at him, till I had told him all, -and he had said again: - -"'With all my heart I forgive you. The past is cancelled; stay here, and -help me in the work that God has set us to do, and obliterate the sins -that this place has seen, by faithful striving in the labor of restoring -it to his service again.' - -"My dear young lady," said Mrs. Arnold, in a trembling voice, "can you -fear him after that?" - -"No," I exclaimed, with tears; "let me see him now." - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - - - "Make no enemies; he is insignificant indeed that can do thee no harm." - -LACON. - - -"Well," says Mrs. Arnold, with an inquiring look, as she was preparing -to leave me for the night, "was I right, or do you feel sorry you -followed my advice?" - -"Ah! no, indeed!" I exclaimed; "it's all right now! I can see all -through it, and I am so much happier!" and I took her hand -affectionately as she left me. - -It was all right, or nearly so. I had found, after the first -awkwardness, that it was very easy to tell Mr. Shenstone things that I -had never supposed I could tell to any one; there was something in his -manner that divested one of all fear and shyness, and suggested only the -interest and earnestness of one whose highest desire it was, to set -forward in the right way, all who were faltering and uncertain. He made -my duty very clear, and gave me many simple suggestions that I wondered -I had never thought of before. He then told me what it seemed to him I -ought to do, in the matter of remedying the mischief I had caused. -Acknowledging my fault to Mrs. Roberts in person, was a very -humiliating, but a very wholesome mortification, and one which he -unhesitatingly recommended. And the restoration to her of a dress -equally as valuable as the one she had lost, was also his advice, and, -if it shortened uncomfortably my already rather scanty supply of -pocket-money, so much the better lesson it would be. He would himself -undertake acquainting Mr. Rutledge with the circumstances, and -representing them in the most favorable light. About the miniature I had -just begun to tell him, intending to say as much as I could without -implicating Kitty, when a knock at the door interrupted us, and "the -doctor" was announced. His visit was not quite as trying as it had been -in the morning, owing to the increased stock of patience and good -resolutions I had been laying in since then; and indeed, they continued -to influence my endurance of him during the daily visits that he -inflicted on me while I remained at the Parsonage. I had had so much of -the effects of willfulness, that I determined never to be self-willed -again, and not so much as to ask him when I might go back to Rutledge; -and he, for his part, seemed determined not to volunteer the permission -till I should ask for it. - -But the matter at last was settled by Mr. Shenstone, who came up one -morning while the doctor was with me, and said he had just received a -note from Mr. Rutledge, saying that from the account the doctor had -given him of me, he should fancy I was well enough to come back, and if -the doctor's permission could be obtained, he would send the carriage -for me that afternoon at four o'clock. I looked at the doctor with -breathless interest; the doctor looked at me with searching curiosity, -while he said, as slowly as the occasion permitted, and with as long a -preface, and as protracted an utterance as he could command: - -"I should be most unwilling to be the cause of disappointing Mr. -Rutledge, or of occasioning any vexation to the young lady, by denying -the permission that Mr. Rutledge seems to expect and desire; though I am -certain, he has no intention of influencing my decision against my -better judgment, or of inducing me to say anything, that in my capacity -of medical adviser, would involve any departure from strict veracity and -prudence. I am aware that it is often difficult for a disinterested -party to resist the reasonable and natural desires of those whose -judgments are warped by their wishes, and that the only reward the -conscientious physician gets, in such cases, is the aversion and -coldness of those whose good he is most interested in. In this case, -however, I am certain, that from the well-known good sense and sagacity -of Mr. Rutledge, and the _unquestioned amiability_ of the young lady, I -should have nothing to fear." - -"Then," said Mr. Shenstone, kindly, evidently seeing my anxiety, and -wishing to put an end to it, "then you do not consider it desirable to -allow the change?" - -"I am not prepared to say so, entirely," he answered; "I was going on to -remark, that I should not have allowed any of the considerations I -mentioned to influence me, had I really deemed it imprudent for the -young lady to leave her present residence. But, considering her rapid -convalescence, and the mildness of the day, and the care I am certain -will be taken to make the drive an easy one, and the harm which a -disappointment might occasion her, I think I am justified in according -my consent to Mr. Rutledge's arrangement." - -I don't think I could have endured a minute more of this kind of -suspense, and probably the doctor knew this, and so brought his -discourse to a termination, after having tried my nerves as long, and -given me as many cuts, as he considered me capable of enduring. I began -to suspect, indeed, that he had perceived my aversion to him, and that -in a quiet and unostentatious manner, he returned the sentiment, and -would lose no occasion of letting me benefit by it. This was mere -conjecture, however, for the doctor's manner was as assiduously polite, -as blandly gallant as ever. And indeed, his anxious interest would not -suffer him to allow me to go unattended to Rutledge; but at four -o'clock, when I was bidding adieu to Mr. Shenstone, and being seated -comfortably in the carriage by Mrs. Arnold and Kitty, the sorrel horse -and shiny gig drew up beside us, and in an _empresse_ manner, the doctor -sprang out, and in his own person superintended the arrangements for my -comfort, and declared that he should not feel quite easy till he had -seen me safe at Rutledge; and for that purpose, as well as that of -paying a professional visit to the master of it, he should drive on, and -be there to receive us. An unconscious tinge of hauteur was all, in my -manner, that escaped of the vexation I felt at the announcement. - -His presence altered very much my conduct at leaving the Parsonage. If -he had not been there, I am sure I should have managed to tell Mr. -Shenstone something of the gratitude I felt for the unmerited interest -in, and kindness toward me, that he had shown; as it was, I could only -look down, and appear unspeakably awkward, at his kind expressions of -affection and regret, as he said good bye. And, instead of throwing my -arms around Mrs. Arnold's neck, as I wanted to do, and telling her I was -fonder of her than of almost anybody else in the world, and that I -should never forget her care and goodness, I could only, with that man -looking on, give her my hand, and say something unintelligibly about -coming to see her again before I went away. The carriage started, and -the gig first followed, then passed it, and by the time we reached the -gate, the sorrel horse was standing before the door, and the sorrel -driver thereof waiting for us, in company with Mr. Rutledge on the -steps. - -"Now Kitty," I said, as we drove into the park, "now Kitty, keep your -courage up. Mr. Shenstone says he has seen Mr. Rutledge, and he has -promised to excuse you; all you have got to do is to make an apology to -Mrs. Roberts, and that's nothing! Why, I've got to do the same thing, -and you'll see how brave I'll be about it." - -Kitty shook her head dejectedly. "I never hated to do anything more." - -And here the carriage stopped, and Mr. Rutledge and the doctor came down -to it. "Ah," said the former, kindly, "you have come back at last. I did -not know whether the doctor and Mrs. Arnold ever meant to let you return -to Rutledge." - -His tone was kind--but--what more did I want? I did not dare to look up; -I felt Dr. Hugh's eyes on my face, and murmuring some broken commonplace -about being happy to be back again, hurried up the steps and into the -house, Kitty following with my shawls and packages. At the head of the -stairs, I stopped till she overtook me, and telling her hastily that I -was going immediately to Mrs. Roberts, and she must give me the package -that contained the dress, and be ready to go in, and make her apology as -soon as I came out, I left her, and crossed over to the door of Mrs. -Roberts' room. - -It was a mean and cowardly thing to hope, no doubt, but I did, -notwithstanding, most ardently desire that it might so happen that the -housekeeper was not in her room, and that I might have a brief respite -before the dreadful penance was undertaken, and in that hope I gave an -undemonstrative knock, to which Mrs. Roberts' voice responded promptly, -"Come in." Coming in was an easy part of it; walking up to her and -saying, "How are you?" was easy too; and remarking, "I am better, thank -you," was the easiest of all. But after that! Standing blankly before -that rigid black bombazine figure, whose bluish lips were obstinately -compressed, and whose unsympathetic eyes were regarding me inquiringly, -it was anything but easy to say what I had come to say--it was anything -but pleasant to remember I was to be humble. But there was no help for -it. I gulped down my pride and aversion, and simply and honestly told my -story, making every allowance truth would permit me for Kitty, putting -all the blame that was possible on myself, making no cowardly excuses, -and no submissive apologies, but telling a very straightforward and -honest story, in a very downright and unequivocal manner, and winding up -with a request that she would consider that I regretted my share in the -business, and was desirous of making her every amend for the annoyance -and inconvenience I had occasioned her. No other course could have been -as well calculated to mollify Mrs. Roberts; any undue humility would -have aroused her suspicions--the least attempt to conciliate her would -have settled her in her aversion--the smallest parade of penitence she -would have stigmatized as hypocrisy; but as it was, she was met on her -own ground, and could do nothing but yield, in an ungracious manner, an -ungracious acknowledgment of my honesty and sincerity, and a promise to -consider the offence atoned for. I put the package down on the table, -telling her what it contained, and again recommending Kitty to her -mercy, turned and left the room. - -I found that young person awaiting me in an unenviable state of mind. I -told her I should never have the least respect for her again, if she -lost her courage now, and then I talked to her a little _a la_ -Shenstone, and then rallied her a little _a la_ myself, and finally sent -her off, quite staunch again, to meet her offended mistress, while I -employed the time in taking off my bonnet and cloak, and arranging the -different articles that I had brought back, in the drawers. - -Despite my attempts at nonchalance, I felt a little unhappy. I did not -yet know how far Mr. Rutledge had put me out of the place I had held in -his regard, since he knew of my fault, and I could not feel quite at -ease till I heard my pardon from his own lips. - -At last Kitty returned, looking a little pale and agitated, but -acknowledging that, on the whole, she was glad she had gone. The -interview had been, it appeared, rather a stirring one, but Kitty had -kept her temper, and Mrs. Roberts had, at last, after expending her -wrath upon an unresisting subject, come to terms, and the curtain had -dropped upon comparative tranquillity. Then I told Kitty we must have -done with deceits, little and great, and related how near I had come to -telling Mr. Shenstone about the miniature, and that I meant to tell him -the very first chance, or else Mr. Rutledge. But Kitty fell into such an -ecstasy of terror, and with such vehement tears and entreaties besought -me never to expose her, and promised such eternal devotion to truth -henceforth, if I would only spare her that insupportable mortification -and disgrace, that at last I yielded, and, to my own sorrow, promised to -hazard no attempt to clear up that mystery, and to make no confessions -to any one in regard to it. - -After dressing my hair and arranging the room, Kitty left me, and I sat -down in my favorite seat in the bay window, with the double purpose of -whiling away the time and watching for the doctor's departure. But that -devoutly wished consummation did not crown my waiting; moment after -moment passed, and still the doctor tarried, and at last Thomas came out -and led the sorrel horse away to the stable. - -"That man's going to stay to tea, I know," I ejaculated, indignantly. -"I've a great mind not to go downstairs." - -The unremunerative policy, however, of spiting myself, had early been -impressed on me, and I wisely abandoned all thought of pursuing it, and -reconciled myself to the trial with all possible heroism. I should not -go down till the last minute. That was all the indignation I should -indulge in. - -Twilight was descending fast; the afternoon had not been a bright one, -and contrary to the nature of such things, was particularly short-lived. -There was a light streak around the horizon, that suggested to the -weather-wise the idea of snow impending; above, and all over the rest of -the sky, there was nothing to relieve the dull grey hue. The line of -light grew narrower and narrower, the cold grey shroud settled down -lower and heavier, the lake and lawn grew more and more indistinct, the -shadows thickened within, the darkness increased without, and -imperceptibly night stole over us, and still I sat dreamily by the -window, picturing to myself for the hundredth time, and as I did at all -dreamy moments, Rutledge as it used to be--the halls filled with -servants, the rooms with guests; carriages rolling to the door; music -and laughter echoing through the house; Alice lovely and admired; -Richard, with his refined, aristocratic face; and the young Arthur, as -the sketch he gave me, had recorded him. Then I joined to this links -that I had caught from Mrs. Arnold's broken story; the flight, the -dreary exile in a foreign land, and death finishing a career that infamy -and shame had branded. But what had Mr. Shenstone to do with it all? -Perhaps he had loved Alice; perhaps it was the loss of her that was the -terrible trial of which he had spoken to Mr. Rutledge when I was lying -half unconscious in the study. Then I tried to put together more of what -I had then heard; but the more I pondered, the more confused and -indistinct it all grew, and ended by bringing up, in all its perplexity, -the tormenting mystery of the lost miniature. Why must I be so baffled -about that? Why had I put it out of my power, by my promise to Kitty, to -go to Mr. Rutledge honestly, and tell him the story, and ask him to help -me to discover who had taken it, and so rid my fancy of the hateful idea -that Kitty had suggested, which, do what I would, had come, between -sleeping and waking, every time I had closed my eyes since she had told -me of it. In the dead of night, the cold hand upon my bosom would wake -me with a start; I would reason away the fright, and try to sleep again, -but as soon as unconsciousness would come, the chilling horror would -come too, and startle me into sleepless watching. - -I despised myself for the folly; but I had begun to hate the darkness. -Even now, the dusky thickening twilight, with its creeping shadows, made -me nervous; a chill seemed to strike to my very heart, and I caught -myself starting at every sound, and trembling at every flicker of the -dying firelight. - -Under these circumstances, the hour that intervened between the closing -in of twilight and the ringing of the tea-bell, could not fail to be a -very long and uncomfortable one, and the promptness with which I hurried -down at the summons, attested my preference for social hours and habits -over solitude and contemplation. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - - - "What! old, and rich, and childless, too, - And yet believe my friends are true? - Truth might, perhaps, to those belong, - To those who loved me poor and young; - But, trust me, for the new I have, - They'll love me dearly--in my grave." - - -Dr. Hugh was suavity and amiability itself; his host was courteous and -attentive; I only, of the party, was abstracted and silent, and could -not enter, with any interest, into the discussions, political, social, -and educational, to which the medical guest led the way. He frequently -appealed to me, but I answered mechanically and at random, and was soon -involved in my own thoughts again, while the two gentlemen carried on -the conversation learnedly enough between themselves. Though Dr. Hugh -showed equal readiness in argument, and had, moreover, the advantage of -choosing his topics in all cases, I could not help contrasting the -brusque inelegance of his tone with the well-bred ease and quiet of Mr. -Rutledge's. One was trying to please and to _appear_, the other was -simply _being_ what was innate and habitual. - -Altogether the doctor was, on this occasion, the most animated and -chatty of the trio at the tea-table, and though Mr. Rutledge did a -proper share of the talking, still his manner was not unreserved, either -to his guest or to me. Whether this was the effect of the change in his -feelings toward me, or only the presence of a third party, I could not -tell; but it was very tormenting, and made the doctor's stay unbearably -tedious, and the termination of it an unspeakable relief. When the hall -door closed behind him, however, I could have wished him back, for it -was even worse to find myself alone with Mr. Rutledge, for the first -time since the strange night of which I had so many strange -recollections. Since then, was he alienated or altered, or had he -forgotten his interest in me during the days of absence that had -intervened? His voice brought the perplexing reverie to an end, and -dispelled the doubts forever "Now that that tiresome doctor has taken -himself off," he said, in a tone so changed and so divested of its -reserve, that it almost startled me, "perhaps you'll have the grace to -come to me, and tell me how glad you are to be home again." He held out -his hand, and I was by his side in a moment. "'Home is not home without -thee,'" he said. "What, I should like to be informed, am I to do when -you're gone 'for good,' as this Yankee gentleman would say?" - -Surprise and pleasure brightened my face, and I had some saucy words on -my lips, when the door softly opened, and _the doctor_ stood -hesitatingly on the threshold, apologizing for his abrupt return and -entrance, on the ground of having forgotten to impress upon the young -lady the importance of continuing the powders she had been taking. He -had not thought of this neglect of his till he had actually got into his -buggy at the door, and then remembered it "on a sudden," and was so much -alarmed at thinking what the consequences might be, that he had sprung -out, and hurried in to give a parting charge on the subject. Every three -hours, he reiterated, and then apologized again to Mr. Rutledge for the -interruption. - -Mr. Rutledge received his apologies rather stiffly, and begged him to be -easy on the matter of the powders; he had no doubt the young lady would -follow his advice implicitly, and he trusted the result would be as -gratifying as Dr. Hugh himself could wish. And the gentlemen both bowed, -and Mr. Rutledge accompanied his guest to the door with undiminished -politeness, but with a slight contraction of the brow, that augured ill -for the doctor's cause. - -There was much expression in the doctor's parting salutation to me; his -glance had been rapid, but he had not omitted, in his observation, the -total change of attitude, expression and voice, that had ensued upon his -withdrawing from the two people who had been so _distraits_ and -undemonstrative all the evening; it was a significant fact, and he had -not been slow to seize upon it. And I liked him less than ever after he -left us for the second time that evening. - -"Mr. Rutledge," I said, when he had returned from convoying the doctor -to the door, "did you notice what a disagreeable impression Dr. Hugh -seemed to make upon Tigre? He keeps at a little distance from him, and -barks in the short, snappish way that he always does when the -tortoise-shell cat prowls into the barn." - -Mr. Rutledge smiled at the analogy I seemed to trace. - -"I don't altogether fancy the man myself, but one must not be too -readily influenced by fancies; no doubt he's very good in his way, and -seems to be much more of a physician than old Sartain. It's a bad way to -expect too much of people, and I hope you'll never get as much in the -habit of it as I have always been." - -With that he dismissed the subject, and presently pointing to the seat -beside him, told me I need not think of saying good night yet, as he had -a great deal to say to me. Without much reluctance, I sat down, and -listened submissively. - -"In the first place, you have not asked what your aunt says to this new -delay." - -"Well, what does she say?" I asked, a little uneasily. - -"She says, that unless you arrive very shortly at New York, she shall -feel herself obliged to leave all her pressing household cares, sick -children, undisciplined servants, and come on for you in person." - -"It's a new thing for her to be so anxious about me," I exclaimed, -impatiently. "I was sick a month last summer at school, and she never -suggested the idea of coming on to see me." - -"Be that as it may, her anxiety at present knows no bounds, and I have -in vain rendered the most elaborate accounts of your state, and in all -ways endeavored to weaken her fears. This very afternoon I received -another letter, more decided than the last in its request, that if you -were able to be moved, you might be brought on immediately; if not, she -would at once start for this place, and my answer was to be instantly -communicated to her by telegraph." - -"You have sent it?" - -"Yes, three hours ago," he answered, looking at me attentively. - -"Well, what did you tell her?" - -"That we should start to-morrow morning at eleven o'clock." - -I struggled hard to keep up, under the unexpected blow, and answered, as -I bit my lip and choked down the tears: - -"Very well, sir, I will try to be ready in time." - -"The doctor says it will be perfectly safe," continued Mr. Rutledge, -quietly. - -"And there is no appeal from his opinion," I interrupted, tartly. - -"I am so much better myself," he went on, as if he had not heard me, -"that there is no imprudence in my attempting it; and I can see no -objection to complying with your aunt's request immediately. Indeed, I -feel that I could not do otherwise." - -His indifferent way of speaking of what to me was such a vital matter, -roused my pride less than it wounded my sensitiveness, and I had much -ado to master myself enough to say: - -"If you had had the goodness to tell me before, I need not have wasted -this evening, but could have spent it in packing." - -"You cannot have much to do, I am sure. Kitty can pack everything in -the morning, and I thought it was best not to worry you by telling you -of it before." - -"I must go up immediately, however," I said, rising. - -"I cannot let you go yet," he said, detaining me. "Do you remember this -is the last evening you are to spend at Rutledge?" - -"And what of that?" - -"You ought to be sorry." - -I shrugged my shoulders, and said, it was a pity I could not gratify his -taste for the pathetic. - -"Ah, nonsense, child!" he said, with a sudden change of manner, "we have -so little time left, it's foolish to waste any of it in idle pretences. -You may as well cry; I know you are sorry enough, I know you can hardly -keep back your tears." - -That broke down all my self-control; burying my face in my hands, I -burst into a passion of tears. There was no use in attempting to command -myself, and indeed I never thought of it. Mr. Rutledge took my hand, and -attempted to draw it away from my face, then suddenly relinquishing it, -walked rapidly once or twice across the room, returned, and sat down by -me. - -"You will make it harder than ever for me to let you go, if you cry so -bitterly," he said, after a pause. "You will soon forget your grief, and -be as happy in your new home as you have been here, while I shall, for a -long while, miss you, and be lonely without you. Do you not see I have -the most to regret?" - -I shook my head, while the sobs came more chokingly than ever. - -"Foolish child!" he said, "this is but a transitory feeling with you; it -will vanish in the sunshine of to-morrow. In a week, you will have -forgotten all about Rutledge." - -Now my anger mastered my tears, and looking up, I exclaimed: - -"You are always telling me I am a child! You are always treating me as -if I were a senseless plaything! I am tired of it; I could almost hate -you for it!" - -He looked at my flashing eyes with a strange intentness, as if he would -read me through and through. "But you are a child; it would be folly for -me to treat you otherwise; how can I know that your affections and -sensibilities are other than those of any ardent, impetuous child?" - -With an impatient gesture, I interrupted him; and turning away, hid my -face on the sofa again. - -"That is the way!" he exclaimed. "No child could be more changeable; one -moment, I have half a mind to think you are a woman, and the next, you -turn away, and pout, and cry." - -"You shan't have that to say of me again!" I exclaimed, conquering my -tears with a huge effort, and raising my head. "I will be cold enough, -if that's what you want. I won't trouble you with my tears again, even -if you try to make me cry, as you did a little while ago. I can be as -indifferent and unkind as you are yourself, if that will be any proof of -my maturity and wisdom." - -"Indifferent? Ah, there you show your childishness and ignorance more -plainly than you think! Culpably indifferent and unkind!" he said, with -a short laugh. "But," with a softening of his voice, "whatever there may -have been of neglect or unkindness in my manner, remember, when you -think of it hereafter, that there was nothing that answered to it, in my -heart; remember that I shall never cease to feel the strongest interest -in you, the kindest affection for you; remember, whenever you need a -friend, you have promised to appeal to me. And remember, too," he -continued, in a lighter tone, "all the rest of the engagements that you -entered into, of which that bracelet is to be the souvenir. I have the -greatest faith in it; I shall never feel very far separated from you, -with this little key so near my heart," he said, touching the trinket on -his chain. - -"As for me," I exclaimed, bitterly, "I shall have to wear this bracelet -as I've promised to; but I shall try my best to forget the giver and all -about him! As for the promises, I don't care _that_ for them!" And in -emphatic contempt I snapped my fingers. - -Mr. Rutledge smiled, as if he knew enough about my indignation to bear -up under it, and said, coaxingly and low: - -"Ah, surely you're not going to desert me already; my little friend is -the one thing in the world I care for, just now; what would be the -result, if she were to turn faithless?" - -I averted my head. "You should have been prepared for that when you took -a child into your friendship." - -"Ah! that rankles still, I see. Well, now, turn your face toward me, and -look up, while I assure you, solemnly you know, and most sincerely, that -I do not think you are childish in most things, that I do believe you -are honest and true, and altogether, excepting a few pardonable -caprices, as good a friend as one need desire. Doesn't that satisfy you? -What could I say more flattering?" - -"Oh! as to saying, you are unrivalled at that; it's the doing that you -are deficient in. It's all very fine for you to call me your friend, and -say how lonely you shall be without me, and all that style of thing; and -then, in the next breath, tell me to get ready to go away to-morrow, and -remark that you cannot see the least objection to my aunt's plan--and -look and laugh just as usual. That doesn't seem much like meaning what -you say, surely!" - -"But what," he said, "would you have me do? If it made me perfectly -miserable to part with you, it is still my duty to do it. Tell me any -way of getting out of it." - -"Let me stay at Rutledge," I exclaimed, turning toward him with pleading -eyes; "just let me stay here. I hate New York, I hate society, I don't -even know my aunt; and here I am so happy, and I have just got used to -it all, and am beginning to feel at home, and it is cruel to take me to -another strange place! I will be so good and useful; I will study and -improve myself, and help Mrs. Arnold with the school-children and the -poor people, and keep Mrs. Roberts' accounts, and read to you, and write -your letters, and be just as good and obedient as possible; not in the -least self-willed, not a bit unlady-like. Just try," I went on, -coaxingly; "you will not know me, I shall be so amiable!" - -"But," he said, with a strange mixture of fondness and irony in his -tone, "what would _Madame votre tante_ say to such an arrangement?" - -"She would say, of course, that if I wanted to, I was very welcome to -stay; she has daughters enough already, and not having seen me, she -can't be expected to know whether she wants me or not." - -"Very well; supposing for a moment, that your aunt had given her -consent, and that there was no obstacle in the way of your remaining -here, how many weeks do you suppose it would be before you would begin -to think regretfully of the gay life you had given up, and the pleasures -you had put out of your power, before you would begin to sigh for -companions of your own age, and excitements greater than your life here -could offer? Believe me, it would not be long before you would be -thoroughly 'aweary' of the quiet routine of Rutledge, and thoroughly -tired of your bargain." - -I protested against this injustice, and exhausted every argument to -prove my superiority to such fickleness, but Mr. Rutledge remained -unconvinced. - -"I do not say you are more fickle than are all other untamed young -things of seventeen; it isn't your fault that you are not older and -wiser; it is my misfortune. In the nature of things, you cannot stay -forever ignorant and innocent, and indifferent to the world-- - - "'Let the wild falcon soar her swing, - She'll stoop when she has tired her wing.'" - - -"It's very strange," I said, "that you should tell me I must put myself -in the way of the very temptations that you were so earnest in -cautioning me against not long ago. Why must I go into society, when I -don't want it? Why must I try the snares of the world, when, in reality, -I am best content away from it?" - -"You must first know what it is you renounce, my pretty child; you must -first see what other places are like, before you can judge whether -Rutledge will content you, and what other friends are like, before you -can tell how worthy of your affection this first one is. Wait till you -are a little older; wait a year or two, and then if you still turn to -Rutledge, it is your home forever." - -Wait a year or two! If he had said, "Wait till the early part of the -twentieth century," it could hardly have seemed a more insupportable -term of banishment. - -"Ah!" he said, with a sigh, "a year or two seems an age to you now; when -you have passed through as many as I have, you'll begin to realize how -short they are, how very small a part of a life they form, and how very -quickly they pass." - -I shook my head. "They would go soon enough if there was anything -pleasant to mark them; but if they are to be passed in longing for their -end, they will be ages indeed." - -"No fear that the next two or three years of your life will be passed in -that way, my friend. It would be a heavy blow, indeed, that would take -the elasticity out of your spirit, and daunt the courage that I know -will make your life a worthy one. Be true to yourself; keep your heart -pure, and the world will not hurt you; you will only see how far it is -from satisfying you." - -"Oh!" I exclaimed, "if I might never have to go in it! If I could -_only_ stay here. You can't understand how miserable it makes me to go -among strangers again. And I am so fond of this place! You need not be -afraid that I shall get tired of it; I don't get tired of people and -places when once I like them. Do you suppose I ever was tired of my own -dear home, or ever would have been, if I had not been taken away from -it?" - -And at that recollection the tears came blindingly into my eyes. - -"You have never told me about your home. Were you happy there?" he -asked, kindly. "Tell me about it." - -It seemed strange when I remembered it, but it did not seem so at the -time, that I should tell him what I had never told to the dearest of my -confidants, had never before put into words; but there was a sympathy in -his tone that was irresistible; for the time, my grief seemed his; I did -not wonder why his interest was so strong in my recollections; I did not -think it strange that tears shone in his eyes when they filled mine, nor -that his voice trembled as he told me of his sympathy; he was my friend; -he was kinder and better than any one else in the world; that was -enough. - -"Poor little homesick child, you must have been miserable enough, among -so many strange faces, with such an aching heart. It was a cruel thing -to send you off so far, without a single familiar face to comfort you, -and so soon after such a shock." - -"Aunt Edith thought it was best for me, I suppose. Perhaps it was; that -is, if it is best for anything living to be wholly miserable, it was -very good for me. And now," I went on, turning to him, beseechingly, -"how can you know whether it's best for me to be sent away from here? I -shall be dreadfully homesick there, I know; I shall be so strange and -forlorn among all those gay people; I know you will be sorry if you -don't let me stay. I know you will say, when it is too late, 'she was -right after all; I should not have made her go.' You will miss me, I -know you will. Think how dreary the long evenings will be, and how -lonely!" - -"Ah! Don't appeal to my selfishness; let that slumber if it can; don't -make my duty any harder than it is already. Be a good, self-denying -child, as you have always been, and go because I think it is best for -you, and because it is your duty to go, and mine to send you. Will you -try?" - -"Yes," I said, sadly, "if there's no help, I will try to make the best -of it, and think as little as possible about what might have been, and -as much as possible about what I ought to do." - -"That's my brave little friend again! You haven't been with Mr. -Shenstone without profit. He has made you already as philosophical as -himself." - -"If I could be near Mr. Shenstone," I said, with a sigh, "there would be -some chance of my learning to control myself and be good. One can hardly -help doing right, with his teaching." - -"It may seem so to you," he answered, "and I acknowledge it is a great -assistance; but, alas! good counsel cannot accomplish the warfare. If it -could, those who have the benefit of Mr. Shenstone's would be fortunate -indeed; but we have to struggle and conquer for ourselves; no one can do -it for us." - -"But you do not mean to say that it isn't the greatest advantage and -comfort to have the advice and guidance of such a wise and holy man? You -do not mean that you do not think Mr. Shenstone the best and the most -devout of men?" - -Mr. Rutledge smiled at my enthusiasm. - -"Do not be afraid that Mr. Shenstone will suffer at my hands. He has -been my guide and counsellor ever since I was younger than you; and so, -you see, I have reason to know, experimentally, the value of his -counsels, and the possibility of not doing right in spite of them. He is -the noblest of men, the most clear-sighted and wise of counsellors, and -my nearest and truest friend, and yet, for all that, I have often gone -contrary to his rules, and, no doubt, often grieved his kind heart. But, -so it goes! The human heart, you are aware, my young friend, is the very -perversest of all created things. Now, at this very moment, would you -believe it, I am doing what that same good and wise Mr. Shenstone has -warned me not to do; and, moreover, mean to continue doing it." - -I looked in astonishment. - -"I wonder at you, sir. You will be sorry in the end. Mr. Shenstone, I am -certain, knows better than you do." - -"How can you possibly know? You cannot tell anything about the right of -the case." - -"No, of course I don't know anything about it; but from the nature of -things, Mr. Shenstone is the most likely to be right. He's older than -you, he's a clergyman, and--well--you will not be angry, but I think he -is much less likely to be governed by his wishes than you, much more -likely to see the right, and give up everything else for it, and to look -at things clear of the mists that other people see them through. You -know what I mean," I continued, "even though I don't express it very -well; and oh! Mr. Rutledge, I am sure you must see, if you think about -it at all, that it is very unwise in you to reject Mr. Shenstone's -advice. The time may come when you'll regret it." - -"Nevertheless, I shall do it." - -From perversity, perhaps, as much as anything else, I continued to urge -what I thought right. There was quite a fascination in contradicting and -opposing Mr. Rutledge; it gave me a giddy sense of elation to think I -dared do it, and though I did not gain my point, it diverted me from the -thoughts of to-morrow's pain, till the clock struck, and I started up in -alarm. - -"It's only eleven, Cinderella; there's no need for such a frightened -look. There is an hour left of your last evening at Rutledge." - -"No, indeed; Kitty is waiting for me, and there is so much to be done -before to-morrow at ten o'clock. Good night, sir." - -"Ah, I see you are in a hurry; you are tired. Why didn't you go before? -Ten is your usual hour." - -The clock had struck another half hour before my last evening at -Rutledge was ended--before the last good night was spoken at the library -door, and, with a sad enough heart, I ascended the stairs, and traversed -the dreary hall, where not even ghostly terrors would have had power to -startle me from the heavy grief that was lying at my heart. - -My room was cheerless; the candle died flickeringly as I opened the -door; the fire was dead long since; poor Kitty, tired with waiting, had -fallen asleep on the rug, with one of the sofa pillows under her head. I -covered her softly with some shawls, wrapped one about myself, stole to -the bay window, and leaning my forehead against the pane, cried as if my -heart would break. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - - - "What is this passing scene? - A peevish April day! - A little sun, a little rain, - And then night sweeps along the plain, - And all things fade away." - -KIRKE WHITE. - - -The grey dawn was just breaking when I woke Kitty. She started up -bewildered, and her bewilderment did not decrease when I told her the -object of this reveille. I never had any cause to doubt the sincerity of -the grief she showed on this occasion. I had added as much to the -pleasure of her life since I had been at Rutledge, as she had increased -the comfort of mine; and it was with no very light hearts that we went -about the business of packing. There was too much to be done, however, -to admit of much sentiment, and we both bestirred ourselves so -diligently, that before the breakfast bell rung my trunk was strapped -and labelled, my bag filled with everything necessary for the journey, -and my bonnet, cloak and shawl lying ready on the bed. There was not -another article now about the room that belonged to me. What a dreary -and forsaken look it had already; the toilet-table dismantled of its -recent ornaments; the books and work that had given so bright and -familiar a look to the pretty room, now all removed, and a bit of card, -a ball of cord, and some withered flowers, were all that graced the -etagere and the table. - -I did not dare trust myself to enter into particulars, even in thought, -and with a very resolute voice, telling Kitty I would come up -immediately after breakfast, and see if there was anything more for her -to do, I went downstairs. The first floor presented signs of an -exciting stir; there was a very unusual bustle and movement in the quiet -hall--a trunk and a valise stood at the front door, a pile of cloaks and -wrappers lay beside them; Thomas' long limbs were animated with unwonted -energy, Mrs. Roberts bustled in and out of pantries, and to and fro -through side-doors and entries, in a very startling manner; Sylvie was -more raving distracted than ever--flew unmeaningly up and down -stairs--took the wrong thing to the wrong place--irritated everybody, -and was in the way generally. Mr. Rutledge, in the library, gave -audience to farmer, gardener, groom, and carpenter--delivered -orders--paid bills--settled accounts--the one undisturbed member of the -commonwealth. It was evident that the sudden marching orders had taken -them all by surprise, and unsettled most of their brains. Stephen, -alone, I was happy to notice, seemed to preserve in some degree the -possession of his reasoning faculties, and did not "haze" to the same -extent as the others. Kitty, I thought, comes honestly by her _sang -froid._ - -I stood some minutes by the hall window gazing out upon the dreary -winter landscape, the dull sky, the brown bare trees, the hard grey -earth, ashes of roses in hue, the nether millstone in hardness. It had -been the coldest night of the season, the water that stood in the narrow -carriage-tracks and in the little crescents that the horses' hoofs had -made, was frozen hard; the trees, the hedges, looked as if they were, -too--so still and stiff they stood. Not a bit of wind was stirring, but -the temperature was evidently moderating. - -"Softening down for snow," Stephen remarked, as he passed out; "you'll -not have it so cold for your journey, Miss. It's too bad that you're -going, such fine sleighing as we have at Rutledge a little later in the -season. You should stay and enjoy it, Miss." - -"I wish, indeed I could, Stephen," I said, with great sincerity. "It's -a long while since I've had a good sleigh-ride. The roads must be -splendid for it here, so broad and clear." - -"Beautiful, Miss; packed smooth, and hard as the house floor, and as dry -as sand. You might walk over 'em in your thin slippers, and never wet -your feet. And the snow lays sometimes better than a month without a -rain or a thaw, the weather as clear as a bell and as cold as -Christmas-thermometer down to nobody knows where, and nobody minds, -after they're used to it. But maybe you're afraid of the cold?" - -"Not I! It's the very thing I like. I'd give anything for a ride behind -those bays, wrapped up to the eyes in furs, on the coldest day Rutledge -ever saw. I know they must go like the very wind when there's snow on -the ground; don't they?" - -"Aye, Miss, that they do!" exclaimed Stephen, warming up at the mention -of his favorites; for though the garden was his particular province, as -the oldest man in the service, he took a fatherly interest in everything -animate and inanimate on the place. "That they do! There's nothing in -this part of the country has ever begun to come up to 'em. I'd like you -to see 'em go, when their spirit's up! 'Taint many young ladies," he -continued, with a "gentleman of the old school" bow, "'taint many young -ladies as can tell a horse when they see him; but everybody says that -you sit like a born horsewoman, and Michael, stupid rascal as he is, -swears you ride like a cavalry officer. Nobody but the master ever -managed that Madge so before." - -I acknowledged the compliment with a laugh and a blush, and encouraged -Stephen to continue his bulletin of the stable, in which he well knew my -interest. Indeed, the worthy gardener was not to blame for his -loquacity, as this was by no means the beginning of our acquaintance; -many a chat I had had with him over the garden-gate, while he leaned on -his spade, and discoursed willingly of the ancient glories of the house -of Rutledge, and the manifold virtues of the present master of it. I -knew he was a faithful, honest old fellow, shrewd and intelligent beyond -his class, and altogether, inestimably superior to many old fogies in -the higher walks of life, and being certain that he was very much -delighted to be talked to, I very much enjoyed talking to him. - -He was just saying, with great appearance of sincerity, that he did not -know what they should all do, now I was going. I had waked up the old -place "amazing;" it was a long while since there had been anybody so -cheerful-like and bright in it; and as for his Kitty, he really did not -know how she could content herself after me--when we were both startled -by finding that Mr. Rutledge had been an undemonstrative auditor of the -whole conversation, and ostensibly engaged in putting some books into -the valise behind us, was quietly listening, and no doubt criticising, -all that had been said. - -Stephen looked a little confused, only a very little though, and with -dogged dignity gave me many good wishes for the journey, bowed and -withdrew. I turned around and faced the intruder with a determination -not to be ashamed of myself, and not to acknowledge that I had been -unduly familiar with an inferior, and to submit to no lecture; but his -face was so different from anything that I had expected, that I blushed, -and looked very foolish, instead of very defiant. He laughed outright. - -"Upon my word," he exclaimed, "I never saw old Stephen so nearly -embarrassed in my life; during an acquaintance of some forty years, I -never saw him approach so near a blush! And you, young lady, certainly -have an extraordinary taste for low life! You have no greater passion, -that I can see, than the one you have just been acknowledging to -Stephen, for horseflesh generally; and as for dogs, your mind runs on -them continually; Kitty shares your confidence--Stephen is -hail-fellow-well-met--Michael swears by you, and"---- - -"That's enough for the present, if you please," I said, hurrying into -the dining-room. - -"You will have coffee, sir?" I continued, very blandly, sitting down at -the table. - -"Are you sure you know enough of such things to make me a palatable cup? -I know you could saddle my horse for me in extremity, and groom the bays -to perfection, but whether you're to be trusted with anything so -feminine as making coffee, really you must excuse me for being a little -skeptical." - -"Ah! please, Mr. Rutledge!" - -But it did not please Mr. Rutledge to do anything but tease me just at -that time. After breakfast was over, he told me, looking at his watch in -his precise manner, that there was just an hour and a quarter before it -would be time to start, and if I had nothing better to do, I might come -down to the stables with him, and give my parting orders about the care -of the horses and dogs. I did not know whether this invitation was given -sarcastically or sincerely, but I preferred accepting it in the latter -sense; so I ran upstairs and put on my bonnet and cloak and joined him -in the hall in a very short time. He evidently did not mean to give me -opportunity for any sentimental regrets, for he never before had been -half so teasing. I could not do anything right, though I was a baa-lamb, -as far as submissiveness went. I walked either too slow or too fast, was -too chatty with the groom, or too taciturn with him; there was not a -fault or indiscretion in all our previous acquaintance that I did not -then and there have to bear the penalty of. It was only when I came to -say good-bye to Madge that my courage gave way completely, and I leaned -my forehead on her glossy neck to conceal the silly tears that filled my -eyes. - -"I verily believe," said Mr. Rutledge, "that she knows you. She does -not submit to such familiarity from strangers." - -Finding that I did not answer, he continued, in a kinder tone: - -"I think, as you broke her in, to feminine usage at least, you are -entitled to her; so I make her over to you, body and soul, if soul she -has, to have and to hold, from this day forward; and a tender mistress -may she find you." - -"Thank you," I said, without raising my head; "a very useful gift; of -about as much service to me as if you should make over to me your right -and title in the fastest pair of reindeer in the employ of the Hudson's -Bay Company." - -"Why, don't you mean ever to come here again? If you don't, you had -better take her with you. Any way, she is mine no longer. What shall be -done with her? Shall Michael blanket and prepare her to accompany us to -New York? or will you leave her here till you come back?" - -"Ah! Do you fancy I am child enough to believe in such a conveyance as -that? It wouldn't stand in any court of law." - -"What would you have? There isn't a magistrate within four miles, and we -haven't the time to draw up a document properly. I will tell you what -can be done as next best. I will record the transaction here, above her -manger, and there it shall remain to remotest ages, 'to witness if I -lie.'" - -Mr. Rutledge took out his penknife, and with considerable ingenuity -carved in the sturdy old oak beam, the transfer of Madge Wildfire from -himself to me, using, for brevity, only initials, and then the date. I -climbed up to the fourth round of the ladder when it was completed, and -did my best to achieve a signature, but the result was so unsatisfactory -that Mr. Rutledge put beneath it, "her mark," and so it stands to this -day, I suppose. This transaction having consumed a good deal of the -hour and a quarter that we had before starting, Mr. Rutledge rather -hurried up my adieux with my new favorite, and it was very ungraciously -that he submitted to wait till I had cut a lock from her black mane, and -embraced her tenderly for the twentieth time. - -"Nobody is to ride her, remember," I said, as we went out; "only, of -course, the man who takes care of her, when it is necessary for -exercise." - -"Your orders shall be obeyed. Any further instructions that may occur to -you in the course of the winter you had better commit to paper and send -to me, and I will observe them faithfully." - -"Oh, I depend entirely on your integrity; I am confident you will be -careful of her. Anyway," I continued, "it's a comfort to know I own -anything at Rutledge, and have a sort of claim upon its hospitality -still. Ah! how long it will be before I walk up this road with you -again, Mr. Rutledge!" - -"Maybe not," he answered. "You shall, if you will, come back and make me -a visit before many months are over; you shall come back and see how -Rutledge looks in her June dress, - - "'When all this leafless and uncolored scene, - Shall flush into variety again;' - -when this dull November sky shall have given place to the warmest summer -sunshine, and this hard, frozen earth shall be soft and brown, and roses -shall be blooming about this dreary porch, and the garden shall be one -wilderness of sweets, and the trees and the lawn shall be all of the -richest green. Will you come then, if I send for you?" - -I checked my look of delight with a sigh: "you'll forget before that -time, I'm afraid. And I don't believe my aunt would let me come." - -"You may trust that to me. Haven't you seen that I make people do as I -wish them to? Do you not believe that I can induce your aunt to let you -come, if I continue to want you, and you continue to want to come?" - -"Perhaps so," I said, half incredulously; "but if I remember right, my -Aunt Edith is fond of her own way too, is she not?" - -"She has that reputation," he answered, with a short laugh. "But _cela -ne fait rien_. You shall come if you wish to. Leave it to me, and say -nothing about it." - -"June is a long way off yet, but it is better than two or three years, -the term of my 'honorable banishment,' that you first decreed." - -Before we reached the house, the snow-flakes began to descend, large, -and soft, and white, floating down in fast-increasing thickness, - - "As though life's only call or care - Were graceful motion." - -"How pretty it makes the landscape!" I said, pausing on the steps. "In -among the bare trees there, it makes such a charming variety and -lightness, and in a few minutes every twig will be feathered with it, -and fences, and roofs, and all. Why can't we wait till we have had one -sleigh-ride?" - -"This snow will not amount to anything; we should have to wait a long -while for a sleigh-ride. It is too early yet for that entertainment; a -fortnight hence will be time enough to expect it." - -"I think you are mistaken," I said, looking wisely at the clouds, -"there's plenty of snow up there, and we shall have enough of it before -night, depend upon it. Hadn't we better wait till to-morrow? It would be -dreadful to be caught in a heavy snow-storm on the way." - -"Have you forgotten your good resolutions of last night?" he said, in a -low tone. "There's the carriage." - -And without answering a word I ran upstairs. Kitty wrapped me tenderly -in my soft shawl, and fastened my fur tippet carefully round my neck. - -"Oh, Kitty! you'll smother me!" I cried. But it was something less -tangible than tippet or shawl that was smothering me just then, and -choking my breath. I gave one glance around the room, thrust a _douceur_ -into Kitty's hand, and telling her to bring down my travelling-bag, -hurried out without a second look, and downstairs without a second -thought, sustained by the determination not to make a baby of myself and -cry. - -The library was empty; I passed on through the hall. Mr. Rutledge was -already at the carriage, superintending the packing in it of numerous -valises, books, shawls, and packages. Mrs. Roberts, bluer than ever with -the cold, stood by him, busy with all the arrangements for his comfort, -and looking a shade more cheerless than usual, at the prospect of -separation from the master who stood to her lonely old age in the place -of son and friend. "I believe she does love him," I thought, and warming -toward her at the idea of one redeeming weakness, I walked up to her and -said, extending my hand: - -"Good bye, Mrs. Roberts. I am afraid you will be glad to get rid of such -a troublesome guest; but I assure you I am very sorry to have given you -trouble, and very much obliged to you for the attention you have shown -me." - -Mrs. Roberts gave me her hand, and answered, without any undignified -haste: - -"All attentions you have received from me you are very welcome to. I -hope never to be wanting in my duty to any guest of Mr. Rutledge's." - -"Then you can't regard me with favor for any other cause? Ah, Mrs. -Roberts, I don't know why it is you would never like me, even before I -gave you any reason to dislike me." - -"Mrs. Roberts will learn to think differently some day, I hope," said -Mr. Rutledge, without looking up from his occupation. "Is there anything -more to go here?" - -There was nothing, the last package was bestowed in its place, the last -strap secured. Thomas, who was to accompany his master to New York, -stood waiting for us to enter the carriage. Michael was on the box. - -"We are all ready, then," and he motioned me to enter. - -"Good bye, Mrs. Roberts," he continued. "I believe there is nothing -further that I wanted to say to you. Make yourself as comfortable as you -can this winter, and let me hear from you occasionally. I shall be back -by the latter part of January, however, and I hope everything will go on -well till then." - -Mrs. Roberts looked very much as if she thought nothing more improbable -than his being back in January, but only said: - -"Good bye, sir. I shall write." - -Mr. Rutledge followed me into the carriage, and shut the door. I bowed -again to Mrs. Roberts, and looked out anxiously for Kitty, who had not -appeared since she brought down my bag; but at that moment Kitty, in -person, was discovered at the other window of the carriage, bringing me -a glove she said she had found, which, however, I guessed was only a -ruse to get another good bye. - -"Ah, Kitty, that's the glove Tigre gnawed, and I never have found the -mate to it since that day; of course it's useless, so you'd better keep -it to 'remember me by,' as they say. Good bye, again." - -Kitty said, "Good bye, Miss," but with so tearful and woebegone a look, -withal, that even Mr. Rutledge was touched, and leaning forward, he -said: - -"Don't take it so very much to heart, my good girl. Your young mistress -will be back again, sometime, I hope. And be as obliging and submissive -as you can to Mrs. Roberts, Kitty; remember it was my last charge." - -And dropping some coins into her hand, he told Michael to drive on. At -this moment Tigre rushed whining to the carriage, and I begged he might -be allowed to drive to the station, and come back in the carriage. Mr. -Rutledge consenting, Kitty placed the tawny favorite in my arms, and, - - "Smack went the whip, - Round went the wheels," - -but I have known gladder folks. From the back of the carriage I watched -the lessening figures on the piazza, as we drove rapidly down the -avenue, and an involuntary sigh escaped me as a winding of the road hid -the dark house, with its snow-capped roofs and porticoes, from my sight. - -"Good bye till June," I said, regretfully. - -"Till June," repeated Mr. Rutledge, pulling Tigre's ears, and making him -yelp. "Do you understand, Tigre? This young lady means to come back in -June, if she doesn't change her mind. Understand the condition, Tigre. -What do you think of our chance?" - -The cur, by way of answer, began gnawing at my tippet. - -"Don't destroy that too, sir," I exclaimed. "You've ruined one pair of -gloves for me already. Isn't it singular, what could have become of that -other one," I continued. "I've searched high and low for it--everywhere, -in fact." - -"Where did you see it last?" he inquired. - -"I cannot remember anything about it, after--after--Tigre and I started -on our race. Don't scold," I said, coaxingly, "you know I am going to -reform." - -"Careless girl," he said, gloomily, "what will you lose next?" - -"It wasn't my fault; I've looked everywhere for it. Isn't it strange -what has become of it?" - -"Very strange," said Mr. Rutledge, gravely. "Indeed, I may say, in a -high degree mysterious." - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - - - "Get thee back, Sorrow, get thee back! - My brow is smooth, mine eyes are bright, - My limbs are full of health and strength, - My cheeks are fresh, my heart is light." - -MACKAY. - - -"Why, which way are we going?" I exclaimed, as we turned off, on an -opposite road, about quarter of a mile before reaching the -well-remembered depot and gloomy suburbs which had been, I supposed, our -destination. - -"To tell you the truth," said my _compagnon de voyage_, "I have begun to -look upon railroads as an invention of the enemy, and to prefer any -other mode of travel. So that, considering we are both invalids (a fact -you are constantly overlooking), and cannot bear fatigue or excitement, -I have arranged our route after this manner: we drive, to-day, by easy -stages as far as W.; then a night's rest there; and to-morrow morning go -on to C., where we part with the carriage, and take the day-boat down -the river, which will bring us to the haven of our desires to-morrow -evening about seven o'clock. This seemed a more agreeable plan than -going by cars, and I thought would be less fatiguing." - -"_A la bonne heure!_" I cried, remembering it was three times as long as -the railroad route. - -It proved a most delightful journey; the further we went, the thinner -the snow-clouds grew, and as the day wore on, they disappeared -altogether, and the sun came out, faint and pale, and the air grew soft -and mild. The carriage was the easiest imaginable, the roads were in -good condition, the horses disdained their burden, and the occasional -respites which their master decreed, the scenery was as varied and -charming as inland scenery at that season of the year could possibly be; -every change and amusement that the limits of the carriage admitted of, -Mr. Rutledge's care had provided; and we were two companions who had at -least the charm of freshness for each other, and were not as yet bored -with one another's society, whatever we might be in the course of time. -We tried to read, but the pages of my new novel did not turn very fast; -I gave it up before the heroine (the records of whose nursery -reminiscences occupied two thirds of the volume) had entered her tenth -year. Mr. Rutledge's review had, I afterward found, but two of the -leaves cut, though he read it assiduously for an hour and a half. - -So we tacitly agreed to resign literature, and devote our attention to -the scenery, which, as we approached the Hudson, certainly did grow -worthy of attention. The purple-headed mountains already were -discernible against the pale sky; the hills grew steeper, the roads -wilder. There was an anecdote or a legend attached to every dark wood or -antiquated farmhouse we passed. Mr. Rutledge seemed to know every inch -of the way, and to be familiar with its history since its settlement by -the pale-faced gentry; though it is my belief, that where he did not -know of any entertaining tradition "to cheat the toil, and cheer the -way," he waived all conscientious regard to veracity, and improvised one -on the spot. Very engrossing they were, however, whether manufactured -from "whole cloth" or founded on fact, and it was quite three o'clock -before any of the party (inside passengers at least) began to revolve -seriously the question of dinner. Then, however, it appeared that Mrs. -Roberts' care had provided us with the most delicate and tempting of -collations, and we stopped to enjoy it at the outskirts of a little -village, by the side of a fresh, clear brook that was on its way, I -suppose, "to join the brimming river," that was our destination also. We -went by different routes, however, and I never have seen the pretty -little eddying streamlet since that pleasant lunch upon its banks, when -Mr. Rutledge filled my cup from its clear waters, and Thomas cooled the -wine in its bosom. Rather a superfluous service, I couldn't help -thinking, in consideration of the season and state of the thermometer; -but it brought out in strong relief the methodic precision of Thomas' -mind. He was an invaluable machine; once wound up correctly, he ran for -any given time, but as to any exercise of his reasoning faculties in the -discharge of his duties, that was as totally wanting as in other -machines. Any display of it from him, would have been as startling to -his master, as it would have been, had the watch in his pocket suddenly -addressed him in good English. Thomas, however, was just the servant for -Mr. Rutledge; he would have been worse than useless to a lazy man who -wanted a valet to take care of him; but Mr. Rutledge chose to do his own -thinking in most cases, and only wanted his orders promptly executed, -which Thomas certainly was capable of doing, and did to admiration. - -A very nice lunch Mrs. Roberts had prepared for us, and we drank her -health gratefully in some very superior Burgundy. We did not hurry -ourselves at all; and as I treated Tigre to some of the remaining -delicacies, and Thomas packed up the baskets again, Mr. Rutledge lazily -sketched the group from the carriage window, on a blank leaf in my book; -making rather a spirited drawing of it, only caricaturing grotesquely -the length of Thomas' legs, and my eyelashes. Then we got _en route_ -again, and with occasional stoppings to sketch, which I insisted on, and -occasional pauses at village inns to water the horses, or rather to wash -their faces, the afternoon wore on. - -"Tired?" Of course not, never fresher in my life. What a nuisance -railcars are, with their distracting racket and bustle and jar. Why do -not people always travel in carriages? - -Mr. Rutledge agreed with me that it was very pleasant; indeed, he seemed -to enjoy it, just as he did that ride I had such good cause to remember. -He left all care and sadness behind at Rutledge, and gave himself up to -the present. In that little travelling-cap, too, I was sure he didn't -look a day over thirty. - -"Mr. Rutledge, you look to-day so like that crayon sketch of your young -relative, that you gave me. It is really wonderful." - -Mr. Rutledge laughed, and asked me if I continued to admire it. - -"Oh, as much as ever," I answered, laughing, and blushing, too, under -cover of the twilight, for the short November day had faded. He -evidently thought I was still deceived about the picture, and I did not -enlighten him. - -"I mean to hang it in the very best light in my room in New York, where -I can look at it from 'morn to dewy eve,' if I choose." - -"I advise you not; Josephine will ferret out the mystery, and expose -your romantic devotion. She isn't given that way herself, and will not -spare you. Your ideas of hero-worship and hers might not agree." - -"Well, if they do not, it may prove fortunate in the end. We shall not -be so likely to interfere with each other." - -"If you do, 'may I be there to see!'" - -"Which would you bet on?" - -Mr. Rutledge, after a protest against such language from such lips, -deliberated somewhat upon my question, and then favored me with his -opinion. We were, he thought, in point of will, about equally matched; -but my French-bred cousin, he was afraid, had a little the advantage of -me in coolness, and had enjoyed the benefit of a training and experience -which might tell heavily against me. And much more to the same effect, -which I only laughed at then, but remembered afterward with less -amusement. - -All this while it was growing darker and darker, and we did not arrive -at W----, as it was proper we should have done some time since. This -seemed at length to strike Mr. Rutledge, and he called to Michael to -know if he was sure of the road. Michael was sure, and again we went on. -At the end of another half hour, however, Mr. Rutledge again stopped -him, and as it was too dark to see anything of the road, he directed him -to drive toward the only light we could discover, which proved to -emanate from the dingy window of a low farmhouse about a quarter of a -mile off. At Thomas' thundering knock, appeared a bony rustic in his -shirt-sleeves, who came wonderingly to the carriage, shading a candle -with his hand, which threw fantastic shadows on his rough, open-mouthed -visage, followed by an untidy-looking woman, and a whole troop of -shaggy, uncombed children, evidently just roused from their first nap. -Mr. Rutledge, after long perseverance, elicited the information that he -sought, which proved anything but agreeable, being a confirmation of his -fears. We had come five miles out of our way, W---- lying just ten miles -to the south, while we had been, under Michael's guidance, pursuing a -course due north. - -Michael was a miserable and a scared man, when the thunders of his -master's wrath fell upon him. Mr. Rutledge was not very demonstrative or -vehement, but he conveyed the idea of an angry man as alarmingly as I -should care to see it represented. No wonder Michael was scared; even I -felt a little awe-struck till after he had shut the carriage door, and -we had turned to retrace our course. - -"Are you very tired?" he said. "I would not have had this happen upon -any consideration. You will be utterly worn out, and unable to travel -to-morrow. I thought I had arranged it admirably for you, but this -Hibernian numbskull has upset it all." - -I assured him that, on my account, he need not anathematize the -luckless Michael further, for I was not in the least tired, and did not -mind the detention at all. Owing to this little contretemps, it was ten -o'clock when we arrived at W----, and halted at the door of its most -promising hotel, which was at best but a shabby affair. I would not have -acknowledged it on any account, but I was dreadfully tired and sleepy, -and could hardly conceal these humiliating frailties, while the landlord -and a drowsy waiter or two bustled about to get us some "tea;" which -meal, arranged upon a remote end of a dreary, long table, in a dingy, -long room, was utterly unpalatable, and I was but too grateful to Mr. -Rutledge for excusing me when a chambermaid appeared to say my room was -ready, and conduct me to it. - -It seemed direfully early next morning when the same functionary -appeared to awake me, with the intelligence that breakfast would shortly -be on the table, and the gentleman had sent her to call me, and to see -if there was any way in which she could help me. "The gentleman" had -evidently backed his suggestion with some specimens of the United States -currency, for she was overwhelmingly attentive, and helped me to dress -in "no time." Breakfast, arranged again as a little colony, at the end -of the long table, was considerably more inviting than last night's -meal, Thomas having had orders to beat up the town for spring chickens -and fresh butter, and, being a veteran in the recruiting service, had of -course succeeded. Mr. Rutledge looked a little anxiously at me, and said -I was wretchedly pale, and he did not know about going on. I laughed at -the idea, and we were soon _en route_ again, driving briskly along in -the eye of a strong wind, and with the bluest of skies overhead. - -Arrived at C----, we had an hour to spare, before the arrival of the -boat, which I spent in the parlor of the very pretending steamboat -hotel, in writing a few lines of adieu and apology to Mrs. Arnold, -accounting, as satisfactorily as I could, for my unceremonious and -abrupt departure, and desiring a renewal of my acknowledgments to Mr. -Shenstone. Of this, Mr. Rutledge approved, and wrote a few lines to Mr. -Shenstone to accompany it. Then came the parting from Tigre, and the -sending back of the carriage, which seemed like severing the last tie to -Rutledge. Tigre was much affected, poor beast, and looked wistfully -back, out of the carriage window, as far as we could see. - -A bell rings, a rush occurs, Thomas devotes himself to the baggage, Mr. -Rutledge gives his arm to me, we thread the crowded wharf, the blue -Hudson dances in the sunlight, the fine steamer holds her breath, and -tries to lie still while we get on board. - -"O Tiber! Father Tiber! To whom the Romans pray, A Roman's life, a -Roman's arms, take thou in charge this day." - -I am luxuriously established in the saloon, with every imaginable wish -attended to, and easy-chairs, books, papers, and cushions enough to -satisfy five invalids, but they do not satisfy me. I am bored with the -heat, and the whimpering of the pale children, whom a lean, -sallow-looking mother feeds unremittingly with "bolivars" and "taffy;" I -am tired with the swinging of those lamps overhead, and the everlasting -rocking of a stout lady in a red plush rocking-chair, and with looking -at the gaudy colors in the carpet, and I rush out for a brisk walk on -the deck with Mr. Rutledge. What a day it is! How impossible to be -otherwise than happy and hopeful; how inevitably the dark phantoms of -doubt and dread take themselves off in the light of such a sun as this, -and in the sight of such a scene! The waves dance bright and gay in the -sunshine; the mountains rise, on either hand, into the blue and -cloudless sky; in a word, the loveliest river in all this lovely -river-braided New World lays before me, the heart of seventeen beats in -my bosom, the glow of health and exercise tingles in my veins; what -wonder that I forget the tears of yesterday, the separation, the -homesickness, the loneliness that I so dreaded. - -Neither can my companion altogether resist the influences of the hour. -If the sharp air and the quick walk have, as he says, made the tardy -roses bloom again on my cheeks, they have also brought a glow to his -face, and a sparkle to his eye, and untamed wit and sarcasm to his lips. -He quizzes our fellow voyagers, tells me odd stories of former travel, -droll sketches of western journeyings, and California "experiences." -Then the laugh dies, as some winding of the river brings suddenly before -us a picture too grand to be looked at with trifling words and laughter -on our lips. And Mr. Rutledge has the "right thing" to say then, in his -rich manly voice, and the right words to embody the voiceless thoughts -that crowd to my own lips--words that do not jar or desecrate, but make -the beauty tangible and the grandeur more ennobling. - -By and by, most of our fellow travellers give up to the cold and go -below; and at last we are left with only a persevering artist, who holds -his hat on with one hand, and sketches with the other, and a couple of -ladies, whose ruddy cheeks, thick shoes, grey dresses, plaid shawls, -"boas" and big bonnets, proclaim indisputably to be H.B.M.'s loyal and -unalienated subjects. It has always been a question with me, as yet -unanswered, whether by any act of Parliament these "proud islanders," -out on their travels, are prohibited from appearing in anything but the -invariable grey dress, plaid shawl, boa, and big bonnet, in which they -invariably do appear. After a while, even they go down, and a solitary -cadaverous-looking man, in the dress of a Romish priest, is our only -companion. He paces up and down one corner of the deck, never raising -his heavy eyes, but reading prayers diligently out of a little book, his -thin lips moving rapidly. It is no doubt a good and pious thing to read -prayers out of a little book; but it seems to me, that with that grand -and glorious lesson spread upon the mountains there before us, it would -be a very pardonable thing to look up at it, and to give God thanks. - -It is rather a bore to go down to dinner, and after that, to be -sentenced to a term of imprisonment in the saloon, because, forsooth, it -is too cold outside, and I must rest. But late in the afternoon, I plead -that the wind has fallen, that there is no possible chance of my taking -cold, and I must see the sun set among the Highlands, and I gain -reluctant permission; and now for another walk! - -The sunset is beyond my hopes; the twilight steals down after it, soft -and dusky, and broods about the rocky Palisades, and dulls to dimness -the dancing waves, and settles, grey and thick, around the pretty villas -and white cottages that dot the banks, and deepens slowly, till all is -one sombre hue in earth and sky, and one fair star comes out to -establish the reign of night. - -We are late this evening in arriving at New York; we should have been -there some time ago; in less than half an hour we shall be at the wharf, -Mr. Rutledge says. All my gaiety and spirits have fled; I wonder that I -could have forgotten. Still we pace the deck; there is no talk of cold -or fatigue now; indeed, not much talk of any kind. - -"We are in sight of your new home now," says my companion, pointing - -"Where the lamps quiver So far in the river." - -And I cannot reply, to save my life. A mist of tears dim the glare of -those lights, at first sight. We near the wharf; the bell rings; the -busy hum of the city reaches our ears less and less faintly; the dim -figures that crowd the wharf grow more distinct. - -"We had better go below," I say, with a shiver, "I have to find my books -and shawls, and it is growing so cold." - -Perhaps if I had known more about that "untold, untried to-morrow," -which I so vaguely dreaded, I should have shrunk more even than I did, -from ending this short hour before its dawning. But, - - "It is well we cannot see - What the end will be." - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - - - "And all that fills the heart of friends - When first they feel, with secret pain, - Their lives henceforth have separate ends, - And never can be one again." - -LONGFELLOW. - - -Thomas being at once the most determined and the most imposing of -attendants, he speedily succeeded in clearing a way for us through the -crowd of hackmen, carmen, and newsboys, and in selecting the most -promising of the array of vehicles offered for our accommodation; -installing us and our luggage therein and thereon; and bestowing his own -long limbs _a cote du cocher_, we were soon rattling over pavements, -rough and jarring to a miserable degree. Mr. Rutledge perceived how -frightened and nervous I was, and first tried to laugh away, then to -coax away, my foolish dread of meeting my aunt. It was in vain; for -once, his kindness and eloquence were lost upon me. I could think of -nothing but the approaching interview; and looking out of the window, -counted eagerly the blocks we passed. - -"How much further is it?" I asked, despairingly, as we rumbled through -bewildering labyrinths of dark and narrow streets. "Aren't we nearly -there?" - -"My dear little rustic, we are not quarter of the way. We have a long -drive before us yet, and if you will renounce the pleasure of looking -out at those crazy lamp-posts, and turn your face this way, I will -promise to tell you long enough before we reach Gramercy Square, for you -to get up a very pretty speech to rush into your aunt's arms withal. In -the meantime, think about me, and not about her." - -I tried to obey, while my companion amused and humored me like the -spoilt child I was fast becoming under his indulgence. It was impossible -not to feel reassured by his manner, and soothed by it, half teasing and -half tender; but all the terror returned, when, looking at his watch, -and then out into the street, he said: - -"I promised to tell you; we are now in Fourth Avenue; in about three -minutes and a quarter, we shall turn into Gramercy Square, and in about -one minute and three quarters from that time, we shall stop at the door -of your new home. You have just five minutes to smooth your hair, pinch -some color into your white cheeks, say good bye, and tell me how good -and faithful a friend you are going to be." - -"Oh," I cried, in great alarm, "surely you will go in! I shall _die_ if -I have to go alone. Dear Mr. Rutledge! You would not be so unkind. Just -think how little I know my aunt, and how I shall feel to be all alone -without one soul I know. You surely will not leave me." - -Mr. Rutledge laughed and yielded; before I was aware, the carriage had -stopped, and Thomas had mounted the steps and rung the bell. In a -moment, a stream of light from the hall showed the bell was answered. -Thomas returned to open the door of the carriage, and with Mr. -Rutledge's kind words in my ear, and the kind touch of his hand on mine, -I crossed the dreaded threshold. The servant, who recognized Mr. -Rutledge deferentially, showed us into a parlor, where the soft light, -the rich curtains, and the pleasant warmth, gave one an instant feeling -of luxury and comfort. The next room was only dimly lighted; but beyond -that, through lace hangings, was visible a brighter room, and glimpses -of glass and silver, made it apparent that dinner was but just over. - -From this room, pushing aside the drapery with graceful haste, issued a -lady, who I knew at once to be my aunt Edith. There never was a firmer -and more elastic tread than hers, nor a better turned and more graceful -figure; the modish little cap upon her head, with its floating ribbons, -was all that at that distance looked matronly enough to designate her as -the mother of the demoiselle who followed her. Mr. Rutledge advanced to -meet her, thus shielding me a moment longer. Her greeting to him was as -gracious and cordial as possible, but she looked eagerly forward, saying -quickly: - -"_Mais ou est l'enfant?_" - -Mr. Rutledge laughed, and turned to me, "_La voici_," he said, -appreciating her look of amazement. - -"Impossible!" she exclaimed, starting back. "My child I never should -have known you," she continued, taking me by both hands, and kissing me -as affectionately as she could for her bewilderment. She held me off, -and looked at me again; then gave Mr. Rutledge a quick, searching look, -and said rapidly in French, in a tone that was not altogether as light -and jesting as it was meant to appear, "And this is the 'little girl' -you have been writing to me about for the last three weeks; this is 'the -child' you have had the care of. Upon my word, monsieur, your notions of -infancy and mine differ!" - -Mr. Rutledge answered lightly, but very indifferently; really he begged -Mrs. Churchill would forgive his misrepresentation of facts, if he had -been guilty of any; he was, he acknowledged, culpably unenlightened on -the different stages of rosebud-opening; it had struck him that the -rosebud under discussion was in the unopened and undeveloped state, and -so he had spoken of it; but he begged Mrs. Churchill would excuse his -ignorance and inattention. - -Mrs. Churchill said, recovering an easy tone: - -"Ah, we all know your sad willfulness and coldness!" This in French; -then in English, "Josephine, my child, here is your new cousin." - -Josephine came forward, and with pretty _empressement_, kissed me on -both cheeks, and held my hand affectionately as she exclaimed: - -"Why, mamma! she is taller than I am, and so much older than I -expected!" - -"And you are so different!" I said, gazing admiringly at her slight, -elegant figure, and pleasing brunette face. - -"Do not forget your old friend for your new one, though, Miss -Josephine," said Mr. Rutledge, extending his hand. - -Josephine looked very coquettish and pretty, dropped her eyes, and gave -him her hand, saying: - -"You were so long in coming, we began to doubt whether you cared for -that title." - -"Put my long-delayed return, Miss Josephine, down to a combination of -the most adverse and unconquerable circumstances. What with runaway -cars, and runaway horses, broken arms, and brain fevers, the wonder is, -not that we did not arrive before, but that we arrived at all." - -"Do not keep that poor child standing any longer," exclaimed my aunt, -drawing me gently to a sofa, while Mr. Rutledge and Josephine seated -themselves opposite, and talked as if they were, indeed, "friends of -old," while Josephine's laugh, which, gay as it was, hadn't altogether a -true ring to it, conveyed the idea of more familiarity and intimacy than -I was quite prepared for. Meanwhile my aunt untied my bonnet-strings, -smoothed my hair, and said I was growing so like my poor dear mother. No -doubt it was kindly meant, but I had never yet learned to bear calmly -the least allusion to my grief, and the tears rushed into my eyes, and -the dawning confidence and self-possession were miserably dashed back -again, and I had to struggle hard to make any reply at all. My aunt -soothingly praised my pretty sensibility, and only made matters worse. -Then she told me to wipe away my tears, and come into the dining-room -with her. I followed gladly, and she rang and ordered coffee, and made -me sit beside her and tell her all about my journey, and whether I -still felt any ill effects from my accident, and how I liked Rutledge, -and whether I was glad to leave school. It was strange, that with all -this kindness my reserve did not melt faster; but it was a miserable -fact, that I felt more awe and admiration for, than ease and sympathy -with, my new-found relative. I longed to appear well in her eyes, and -win her affection, but I never was more awkward and ill at ease. She had -a way of looking at me that showed me she was making up an estimate of -me, and I felt as if I were sitting for my picture all the time, and was -as easy and natural as persons generally are under those circumstances. - -I asked, at last, where my other cousins were. Grace was at her lessons, -but would be down presently; Esther was sent to bed. Indeed, a violent -scuffling and roars of "Let me see her, too," smothered by a voluble -French reprimand, had announced to me, upon first entrance, that _la -petite_ was about making her exit. I took off my cloak, and accepted my -aunt's suggestion, that I should not go to my room till I had had a cup -of coffee. Mr. Rutledge and my cousin were presently summoned from the -other room, and coffee was served. Josephine was very bright and -piquant, talking well and amusingly; Mr. Rutledge was more sarcastic and -man-of-the-world-ly than he had been at home; my aunt was graceful, -winning, and polished, only making my wretched awkwardness and silence -more conspicuous and striking. I longed to redeem myself, but there was -a spell upon me; monosyllables and unfinished sentences were all the -contributions toward the conversation that I could command, till -Josephine exclaimed: - -"Why, how quiet you are! You do not say a word. Is she always so silent, -Mr. Rutledge?" - -Mr. Rutledge smiled, and turned toward me. - -"How is it, mademoiselle?" he said. "I have had but a short experience -of your cousin's conversational powers," he continued, to Josephine; "I -must confess that I have sometimes fancied that she held those powers -somewhat in reserve; but I have no doubt that among companions of her -own age, and in the congenial society of her young cousins, she will -become as charmingly loquacious." - -Josephine patted me patronizingly on the shoulder; my aunt looked at me -thoughtfully; Mr. Rutledge turned to me for confirmation of his words, -with a bow and a smile that staggered me completely. I began to wonder -whether he had ever been anything more to me than the polite stranger he -now appeared. Whether, in truth, the last three weeks had not been all a -dream, and that railroad accident had not in some way affected my brain. - -Just then the door opened, and enter my second cousin. If I may be -pardoned for applying so unadmiring an epithet to so near a relative, I -should describe this young person as very insipid-looking; very -undeveloped for her age, with an unmistakable flavor of bread-and-butter -and pertness; with rather a drawl in her tone, and rather a pout on her -lips; fair-skinned and fair-haired, rather pretty, perhaps, but far from -lovable. On the whole, I was not attracted toward my cousin Grace, but I -kissed her dutifully, and held her limp, inexpressive hand a minute or -so in mine, while she said, "How d'ye do, Mr. Rutledge," in a drawling -voice, that formed a striking contrast to her sister's vivacious tones. - -Before very long, Mr. Rutledge turned to my aunt, and apologized for -intruding so long on a family reunion, and promising himself the -pleasure of waiting on her very soon again, said a cordial good night. -There had been some commenting on a new picture, and we were all -standing in a group before it, at the other end of the dining-room, when -Mr. Rutledge took his leave. There were many jesting and pleasant words -exchanged with the others as he withdrew, having shaken hands with them. -I had shrunk into the background, and waited, my heart in my throat, to -know whether I was forgotten, when he suddenly turned back, before he -reached the door, and said: - -"_Pardon!_ Have I said good night to my young travelling companion? Ah! -there you are. I am afraid you are very tired; I am not sure that we -have not travelled too fast for such an inexperienced tourist." - -"She couldn't have done Switzerland at our pace, last summer, I am -afraid, could she?" said Josephine, complacently. - -Mr. Rutledge made some rejoinder complimentary to Miss Josephine's -powers of endurance, then concluded his brief adieux to me, and with -"more last words" to the others, withdrew. Josephine leaned rather -listlessly against the mantelpiece, said, "Mamma, how very well Mr. -Rutledge is looking!" then going to the piano, asked me if I played, and -sitting down, ran her fingers lightly over the keys, while I approached, -and standing by her, listened admiringly to her delicate and masterly -touch. I felt stranger and forlorner than ever, though, as she played -on, talking to me idly as she played, till her mother called to her, -rather sharply: - -"Josephine, you are very thoughtless; don't you know she is tired? Come, -my dear, you had better go upstairs immediately." - -Josephine leaned over her shoulder, touched my cheek, lightly with her -lips, and said, "Good night; you'll feel brighter by to-morrow." - -My aunt called Grace to take me up to my room, kissed me good-night, and -said she hoped I would be comfortable. Grace, who had just established -herself at her embroidery, pouted slightly, and said in French (a -language with which, it seemed taken for granted, I was unacquainted), -"Why can't Josephine?" rising slowly to obey, nevertheless. A few sharp -words silenced her speedily; another silvery good-night to me, and I -followed my cousin upstairs. A more cat-in-a-strange-garrety, -uncomfortable, bewildered feeling I never before had experienced; from -Mr. Rutledge down, they all seemed to treat me as if I were somebody -else. "If I be I, as I do hope I be," I ejaculated, with a miserable -attempt at a laugh, as the old nursery rhyme came into my head, "perhaps -I shall know myself when I am left alone and have time to think." But -Grace did not seem inclined to allow me that luxury; for, having -conducted me to my room, she came in, and did the honors rather more -graciously than I had expected, lit the gas, pulled down the shades, put -my bonnet and cloak away in the wardrobe, and then sat down on the foot -of the bed, and looked at me with great appearance of interest. The fact -was, Grace possessed, in no ordinary degree, that truly womanly trait, -curiosity; and justly considered, that as she had been made to come -upstairs against her will, it was but fair that she should compensate -herself in any lawful way that presented, and now that she was up here, -to see as much as she could of the manners and habits of the new comer. - -With a view to this harmless little entertainment, she began her -investigations by saying: - -"Where's the rest of your baggage? In the closet?" - -(She was leaning over the balusters when my trunk was brought up, and -knew, as well as I did, that there was only one.) - -"No," I said, blushing, "I didn't have but that trunk." - -Grace squeezed up her mouth a little, but didn't make any rejoinder. - -"Do you like your room?" she asked, after a minute. - -As I had just been contrasting it mentally with the blue room at -Rutledge, I could not help another blush, and a little confusion, as I -replied that it did very well. - -"Mamma seemed to have an idea that you were quite a little girl," she -continued, "and that this was very nice for you. It opens out of the -nursery, you see, and if you don't mind Esther's squalling, it _is_ very -nice." - -She laughed a little, and I tried to smile as I answered that I liked -children, and should not mind being near my little cousin. - -"I hope you'll like Esther," said Grace, with a shrug of her shoulders. -"When she isn't kicking Felicie, or howling to be taken out, or -squalling after mamma, she's sitting on the floor in the sulks, and as -that's the least troublesome of her moods, nobody interferes with her. -Oh, she's a sweet child!" - -And Grace's laugh sounded more like thirty than fifteen. I was ashamed -of myself for being so embarrassed and abashed by a girl so much my -junior, but there was something about Grace that I was not used to; a -sort of gutta-percha insensibility, a lazy coolness that I had not -expected from her drawling, listless way. Nothing of the woman seemed -developed in her but the sharpness; and with that she was born, I -suppose. She was still a little girl in her tastes and pursuits; loved -to play with Esther, whom I afterward found she bullied and teased -shamefully; did not aspire to beaux and young-ladyhood, but contented -herself with keeping the sharpest imaginable lookout upon the concerns -of every one in the house, and having a finger in every possible pie; -being at once the pertest and most persevering of medlers. - -She kept up a desultory talk while I was unbraiding my hair and -preparing for bed; asked questions that galled me, told facts that -discouraged me, till I was fairly heartsick, and would have been willing -to have bought her off at any price; and looked upon the advent of -Felicie with a summons from madame for her, as the most blessed release -that could have been. - -I locked the door after her with a bursting heart, and threw myself upon -the bed in an agony of crying. What would have been merely a fit of -homesickness, and a loneliness soon to be conquered and forgotten with -girls of a different temperament, was a longer and more lasting struggle -with me. It was wholesome discipline, no doubt; but now, disheartened, -I recognized no hope in all the dark horizon; saw nothing in the future -that was worth living through the present for; disappointment, pain, and -loneliness had taken the color out of every hope, and made what should -have been morning, a night, and that of the blackest. - -"Would it last?" was a question I asked myself even then, the dawning -reason of the woman within me combating the passion of the child. "No, -no," reason whispered; "'to mortals no Sorrow is immortal;' the storm -will spend itself, and calm of some kind will come." - -But the child's heart refused to be comforted, and passionately rejected -reason; there was no truth in friendship, there was no kindness in any -one; there was nothing but loneliness, and coldness, and cruelty in all -the world. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - - - "A month ago, and I was happy! No, - Not happy--yet encircled by deep joy, - Which, though 'twas all around, I could not touch. - But it was ever thus with Happiness: - It is the gay to-morrow of the mind, - That never comes." - -BARRY CORNWALL. - - -Sleep, which proverbially forsakes the wretched, paid but little court -to me that first night in my new home; my swollen eyelids were sullied -with too many tears, in truth, to win his favorable regard; but toward -morning, exhaustion and unconsciousness came compassionately to relieve -the misery and wakefulness that had guarded my pillow all night; and the -dull light of a winter morning, struggling in through the half-drawn -curtains, was the next summons that I had to consciousness again. I -started up, aroused more fully by a sharp pain in my arm, that had -momentarily been growing harder, till it had succeeded, with the aid of -the advancing daylight, in waking me thoroughly. It was some seconds -before I knew what it was caused by; the bracelet on the arm that had -been under my head had been pushed up from the wrist, and in that way, -had grown tighter and tighter, till, indeed, the pain had been -unendurable. It brought Mr. Rutledge's words to my mind strangely -enough; with a blush of shame and pleasure, I bent over the souvenir; "I -will never doubt again," I whispered, sincerely repentant. Heaviness had -endured, bitterly, for the night, but joy, or a faint and tiny promise -of it, had as surely come in the morning; and with energy and something -like happiness, I set myself to make the best of my little room, and my -new position. No Kitty to braid my hair, no Kitty to unpack my trunk; -so the sooner I got used to performing those little offices for myself, -the better, decidedly. - -"Something to do" was the kindest boon that could have been given me, -and as such, I received it, and before the house was astir at all, I had -unpacked my trunk, arranged my books upon the table, my dresses in the -wardrobe, and the little knick-knacks that were regarded as decorative, -on the mantelpiece and under the dressing-glass. The crayon-sketch never -saw the daylight in Gramercy Square. A stolen look at it, now and then, -under the half-raised lid of my trunk, was all I ever ventured on. - -Mine was not a very cheerful or attractive room, certainly; but I should -soon be used to it, I reflected, and it would seem nice enough. Then I -drew up the shades, and looked out with much interest upon my first -daylight-view of the great metropolis. Certainly, the wrong side of city -houses is no more advantageous a view of them than is the wrong side of -other fabrics; and in proportion as the velvet is rich and gorgeous, so -is the reverse dull and plain. My room being in the rear of the house, I -of course had the benefit of the wrong side of the neighboring houses; -which, I will do them the justice to say, were as dismal and -unpretending as houses need be. They had all of them, with one consent, -put their best foot foremost; the gorgeous foot presented to the street, -was of brown stone, plate glass, and carving; the slip-shod foot left in -the background, was dingy for want of paint, unsightly with -clothes-lines and ash-barrels, neglected and forlorn. However, I thought -cheerfully, some strange comfort attends even so exalted a state as "two -pair back;" there was an unlimited view of the sky, much greater than -the lower rooms could command. Indeed, when there was anything but -lead-color overhead, I concluded that these windows must be very -cheerful. The spire of a church, however, not far off (which, I was -happy to observe, had no wrong side), was the one grace of the -prospect. It would not do to think of the way in which the mists were -rolling up from the lake, this grey, hazy morning, nor how the pines on -its bank were reflected in its still surface; nor, indeed, at all of the -scene, bold and picturesque even in its wintry desolation, that had met -my waking vision for the last few happy weeks. - -Late breakfasts were apparently the order of the day in this -establishment; the hands of my watch were creeping around toward nine -o'clock, and still no indication of the approach of that meal. Beyond -the occasional smothered sound of a broom or duster in the hall, there -had been nothing to suggest that any one was awake throughout the house, -except a fretful little voice that I had heard at intervals since dawn, -in the room next mine. Listening very attentively, I found that it -proceeded from the young troublesome, whose picture had been so -feelingly drawn for me last night by Grace. She was evidently -importuning Felicie to get up and dress her; and the tone, peevish and -whining as it was, had a sort of pathos for me, remembering, as I too -distinctly did, the cruel punishment that it is to a child to lie in bed -after being once thoroughly awake. For two hours, little Esther had been -tossing about, and crying to get up, and the only response she had -received from her nurse, had been now and then a sleepy growl or an -impatient threat. Injustice always irritated me; besides, I had a -curiosity to see this child, who evidently met with so little favor, and -time was hanging rather heavy on my hands just then, so I went to the -door that communicated with the nursery, and opening it softly, looked -in. The shutters being darkened, it was still not many removes from -dawn, and I could but dimly make out the dimensions of the large, -scantily furnished room; but there was light enough for me to see the -figure of the child, sitting up in her little bed, crying piteously, -"_Leve-toi, Felicie, j'ai si froid._" - -She stopped suddenly on seeing me, and looked up in my face as I -approached her. - -"Is this my little cousin Essie?" I said, sitting down on the bed and -taking one of her icy little hands in mine. Cold she certainly was; the -fire had gone out entirely, and she had been sitting up undressed so -long, that her teeth were chattering and her lips fairly blue. I kissed -her wet cheeks, and giving her to understand that this was her new -cousin, asked if she was not going to be very fond of me? She looked -more amazed than before, but beyond a cessation of her tears, she made -no attempt at a rejoinder. I rubbed her hands, and tried to warm her -cold little feet, talking to her kindly all the time. - -"Is this your dressing-gown, Essie?" I asked, taking up a little blue -flannel garment from the foot of the bed. She nodded an assent, and I -put it around her. - -"Now," I continued, taking her up in my arms, "will you go into my room -and get warm by my fire?" - -"Yes," said Esther, laconically. So picking up her shoes and stockings, -I raised her in my arms and carried her into the other room. She was -between five and six years old, but so slight and childish that her -weight was nothing. I sat down by the fire and held her in my lap, while -I put on her shoes and stockings, and warmed her into something like -animation. - -"So Felicie wouldn't wake up," I said, at length. - -I had touched the right chord; the vehement childish sense of wrong was -stirred, and with eager, blundering earnestness, she detailed her -grievances. Felicie never would wake up; Felicie wouldn't give her a -drink of water some nights when she was _so_ thirsty; Felicie left her -alone sometimes when it was _so_ dark; and Felicie was cross, and -Felicie was wicked, and, in fine, she hated her. - -I shook my head at this, and gave her a little moral lecture upon the -wickedness of hating nurses, further illustrating and embellishing my -subject by the story of a little girl who had once indulged in that -dreadful passion, and had come to a very sad end in consequence. The -moral lecture, I am afraid, was overlooked; but the story was most -greedily received, and I was obliged to succeed it with another and -another, before I could induce her to go and get her clothes, and let me -put them on for her. When she was nearly dressed, Felicie woke up, and -not finding her young charge in bed, was somewhat startled and -unmistakably angry, and in no dulcet tones was calling her name, when -she looked into my room, and, on seeing me, sank suddenly into a softer -strain, and apologized for oversleeping: she had had such a wakeful -night, was not well, etc., and would Mademoiselle Esther come and have -her hair brushed now? - -Mademoiselle Esther, a moment before the quietest, gentlest child alive, -had, at the sound of that voice, flushed up into angry defiance, and -planting herself at my side, met her nurse's advance with a very ugly -scowl. She wouldn't go and have her hair brushed; she didn't want a nice -clean apron on; she didn't care if she was late for breakfast; and -Felicie, though she never lost the bland tone she had assumed, looked -malignant enough to have "shaken her out of her shoes and stockings." At -length I persuaded her to submit to Felicie's proposals, and be made -ready to go down to breakfast with me, and she held very firm possession -of my hand, as, after the bell had rung, we descended the stairs. - -My aunt was already below; Grace and Josephine straggled in after long -intervals; indeed, we were half through breakfast before they came down. -My aunt looked charmingly in her fresh morning dress and pretty cap, was -very kind, gave Esther and me her cheek to kiss, and, after reading the -paper, talked to me somewhat. Esther seemed not to have much appetite; -but having set her heart upon a roll and some cold chicken, her mamma -had graciously allowed her to be gratified, and she was very tranquilly -eating her breakfast, when the entrance of Grace, who made some teasing -little gesture as she passed, made her pout and whine, and disturbed her -serenity considerably. It was not, however, till Grace, calling to the -servant for some marmalade, suggested a forbidden dainty to her mind, -and she exclaimed, "I want marmalade, too," that the worst came. - -Grace interposes pertly, "You can't have any--mamma says you can't;" -Essie passionately protests, "I will;" mamma sharply interposes, "You -shall not;" a burst of tears from Essie, and a smothered titter from -Grace, then Essie passionately pushes back her plate, and refuses to -touch another mouthful; whereon mamma asserts her authority, and sternly -orders her to resume her biscuit and chicken under pain of banishment. -The sobbing child does not, cannot, _I_ think, obey, and, at the end of -an ominous silence, mamma motions John to remove her from the table, -which is effected after violent resistance and struggling, and amid a -tempest of screams and protestations, exit Essie in the arms of John. - -It was well that my aunt did not order me to resume my breakfast. After -that little episode, I am afraid I should have been unable to obey, and -I should not have liked to have been carried out in the arms of John. -Josephine exclaimed upon the nuisance of crying children; Grace laughed -slily, as if she thought it capital fun; mamma sighed over the strange -perverseness and dreadful temper of that child; but my heart ached for -the wretched little exile. How Felicie would gloat over her disgrace, I -knew; how indigestion, injustice, and mortification, would bring on a -fit of the sulks that would last half the day, and pave the way for the -repetition of a similar scene at lunch. Perhaps because I had been a -willful, sensitive, and passionate child myself, I knew how to -appreciate the disadvantages under which poor little Essie labored. I -knew what exquisite tenderness and gentleness were necessary to guard -that sensitiveness from turning into the very gall of bitterness, and -that quick temper from becoming the uncontrollable and damning passion -that would blight her whole life. More watchful care, more prayerful -earnestness, does such a child's rearing require, than if she had been -laid upon her mother's love, a moaning cripple, or a blind and helpless -sufferer. Just as soul is more precious than body, so is the -responsibility heavier, the task more awful, of training and molding -such a sensitive nature, to whose morbid fancy a cold repulse is a cruel -blow, and an impatient word a rankling wound. The tenderest and most -yearning love should surround and guard such a child's career, putting -aside with careful hand the snares and trials that beset the way of -life, till the maturing judgment shall have learned to control the -exaggerated fancy. The winds of heaven should not be suffered to visit -too roughly such a restless and unquiet heart, till the uncertain mists -of dawn and early morning have melted before the clear and certain day. -Between the rough and torturing world and the scared and shrinking soul, -the mother's love should interpose, shielding, soothing, reassuring. God -meant it to be so; may His pity be the guard of the little ones, whom -death, the world, the flesh, or the devil, have defrauded of their -right! - -No one could look at my hollow-eyed and puny little cousin, with that -unhappy and unchild-like contraction of the brow, and that troubled -expression of the eyes, without knowing that she was of a nervous -temperament the most excitable and keen, and of a will and temper the -strongest. To Josephine's spirit and Grace's acuteness, she added an -almost morbid sensitiveness and delicacy of organization, of which they -were entirely innocent, and which they could in no way comprehend. That -she did not inherit it from her mother, was pretty evident; Grace was -the nearest copy of the maternal model; "la petite" was altogether a -stranger and an alien, not understood and not attractive. Her mother had -never forgiven her sex; a boy had been the darling wish of both -parents, and this third disappointment had not been graciously received, -at least by the mother; for I believe "the baby" had held a tender part -in her father's heart during the two years of her life which he lived to -see. Perhaps my uncle would have understood the wayward child better -than his wife did, had he lived to see her develop; there must have -been, I was sure, depths of gentleness and tenderness in his heart; for -though he was almost a stranger to me, living as we had done, so far -from the world in which he had held a busy part, still he was my -mother's only brother, and they had never forgotten their early -affection. The recollection of it helped me to bear with patience the -caprices and willfulness of his little daughter; for, pity her as I -might, there was no denying that Esther was a very vexatious and trying -child, and there certainly was a very fair excuse for the disaffection -of the household. How far the household had to thank themselves for it, -however, was another matter, and one which I thought would have repaid -investigation. - -The scene consequent upon the Marmalade Act, must have been no novelty -in the Churchill breakfast, for the waves closed over poor Essie's -banishment in an instant, and things resumed their smooth and unruffled -appearance almost immediately. The next disturbance they received, was -in the form of a sharp ring at the bell, which caused Josephine, without -raising her eyes from the paper she was reading, to adjust with better -grace the sweep of her dress upon the carpet, and to present to view an -eighth of an inch more of the rosette on her slipper; while Grace, -looking up from her plate, said saucily: - -"What's the use, Joseph? It's too early for anybody but Phil; and you -know you don't care for Phil." - -Josephine gave her a snapping look out of her black eyes, and if there -had been time, no doubt would have made good their promise of a tart -rejoinder, but the opening of the door, and the entrance of the six feet -two inches of manliness, known and described as "Phil," prevented its -consummation. I did not know at the time, but I soon did know, who and -what this privileged Phil was, who was so much at home at my aunt's -house, and so well received and constant a guest. - -Philip Arbuthnot was, it appeared, my Aunt Edith's only nephew, and the -most invaluable and untiring of escorts; supplying the place, in short, -only too willingly, of son and brother to his aunt and her unprotected -daughters. In the matter of securing opera boxes and concert tickets, -cashing drafts, looking after the family interest in Wall street, having -a general supervision of the stable, keeping coachman, footman, and -waiter in wholesome awe, and in a thousand other ways, he was of -inestimable service. What the family would have come to without him, is -too painful a speculation to be entered upon unnecessarily. Figaro-ci, -Figaro-la, and Figaro liking nothing better than his occupation. He bent -his whole mind to it; I never could discover that, he had any other -interest or employment in life; lounging around to Gramercy Square after -breakfast, embellishing the library sofa with his listless length till -lunch, while Josephine practised, or my aunt talked business with him. -Then, at one o'clock, after putting them in the carriage (he was not a -ladies' man, and hated morning visits), Phil would lounge back to the -Clarendon, and by dint of a series of smokes in the reading-room, an -hour or so at billiards, and a drive on the road, would manage to get -rid of the day, and, at or about five o'clock, would lounge back again -to Gramercy Square for dinner and the engagements of the evening. He had -been educated at West Point, and though he had not, strictly speaking, -covered himself with glory, at the rather searching examination of that -rigorous old institution, just passing and that was all, they said, -escaping emphatically by the skin of his teeth, still he had been in a -very fair way of promotion, when, just before the departure of his -aunt's family for Europe, he had unexpectedly and abruptly resigned, -and accompanied them. Having inherited a fortune just large enough to -serve as a narcotic to ambition and energy, and just moderate enough to -prevent his playing any prominent part in Vanity Fair, Phil seemed in -the enjoyment of an existence very much to his taste, and entirely -satisfying to him. If, in my crude and enthusiastic view of life, it -struck _me_ as an existence at once debasing to his nature, and -dishonest to his manliness, it was because I had not yet learned that -what one-third of the men, and two-thirds of the women in society look -upon as the proper business of their lives, must, in the nature of -things, be the correct view of the subject. "The night cometh when no -man can work," I thought, in my simplicity; the day, at best, is but a -short and uncertain one; for every soul sent on earth there is a work -allotted; what less than madness is it for the strong man to lie down in -his strength and sleep away this day of grace? Seeing that the undone -work does not fade with the fading daylight, but an evergrowing and -thickening shadow, will horribly increase the blackness of that night; -will be a treasure of wrath against that time of wrath, and the -perdition of such men as have chosen to be ungodly. - -Such naive and unpracticable ideas as these, would, no doubt, have -brought an avalanche of ridicule on my head, had I been unwise enough to -impart any of them to my new friends; but a protective instinct kept me -from such a blunder; and as I hourly saw with clearer eyes the -dissimilarity between them and me, so I hourly grew more reserved and -silent. - -"Don't she ever say anything?" I could not help overhearing Phil ask, as -I left the breakfast-room. I longed to hear Josephine's reply; but an -inconvenient sentiment of honor prevented my stopping to listen for it. -I could not, however, avoid being auditor to the lazy laugh that it -elicited from Phil, and the blood mounted to my temples at the sound. - -"I wonder if they think me stupid or sulky," I said to myself. "I wonder -if they ever thought how it must feel to be a stranger in the midst of -people who know and understand each other. I wonder if I ever shall be -one of them." - -There was another, however, of the household that I felt pretty sure was -as much a stranger and an alien as I was, though she had spent nearly -six years in it, and I turned my steps naturally to the nursery. Poor -little Essie had, as I expected, fretted and cried herself into a sick -headache, and was sitting sulkily in a remote corner of the room, her -doll untouched beside her, and her hands in her lap. Felicie, sitting by -the window with a sardonic smile on her lips, employed herself about -ripping up an evening dress of Josephine's. I called to Essie to come -into my room; she pouted and averted her head. I made a coaxing promise -of "something pretty," when Felicie interposed "that she was in -disgrace, and perhaps mademoiselle had better not speak to her, as her -mamma had sent her up for a punishment." - -"Her mamma did not mean that she should be made unhappy for all the -morning, however," I said, advancing boldly. - -"As mademoiselle pleases," answered Felicie, with a very wicked look, -and a very sweet voice. - -Esther at length accepted my overtures, and consented to heal her -bosom's woe with a picture-book and a bon-bon out of my trunk. I shut -the door between my room and the nursery very tight, and gradually -Essie's fretful unhappiness relaxed into something like childish -enjoyment, in the comparative cheerfulness of my room, and the exertions -I made for her entertainment. She possessed the characteristic, very -rare and invaluable among children, of being easily amused, and also of -continuing amused for a long while, with the same thing. So it happened, -that the picture-book did not pall upon her taste, nor the bon-bon lose -its charm, for two full hours, and she was still sitting demure as a -kitten beside me, while I worked and occasionally explained to her the -pictures, when Aunt Edith entered. She had evidently forgotten the -occurrence of the morning, and seemed very well pleased to find us both -so well provided for. After looking about the room, and ascertaining -that I had everything that I needed, she sat down by the fire, and -resumed the estimate she had been interrupted in making up last night. -The conscious blood dyed my cheeks, the faltering words found only -awkward and constrained utterance; the more my aunt tried to read me, -the more blurred and unreadable did I become. She tried me upon all -possible questions--school, and its studies and routine; Rutledge, and -my visit there; the journey, and my escort. Upon all points, I was -equally unsatisfactory, and the interview had but one decisive result, -which I attained only by great effort. I had determined that whenever I -should have a chance, I would ask a favor of my aunt; and this appearing -a fitting opportunity, with many misgivings and much trepidation, I -propounded it to her; and was unspeakably relieved and surprised to find -that she not only acquiesced in, but most cordially approved of the -motion. It was to the effect, that for this winter, I should be excused -from going at all into society, and might be allowed to study and -improve myself. - -The proposal, I saw, relieved my aunt's mind from some weight that had -encumbered it. She agreed with me most heartily in considering it much -the most judicious course. I was really too young to go into society; -she had never ceased to regret having brought out Josephine so early; -next winter I should be so much better fitted to enjoy it, etc. The -plans for the employment of my time were very soon arranged. I was to -share Grace's French and German lessons, and to read history and -philosophy with her, under the guidance of one Mr. Olman, a young and -inexpensive professor of literature and the belles-lettres, who came -three times a week. My hours of study and recitation were all distinctly -marked out, and it was agreed I should begin that very day. Grace was -sent to bring me her French grammar and show me the lesson, and after -lunch, we were summoned to the study (a small front room on the second -story), to meet Mr. Olman, our literary professor. - -Certainly, if I had looked upon Grace as a marvel of sharpness last -night, my respect for her in that regard, suffered no diminution after -seeing the manner in which she slipped through Mr. Olman's literary -fingers, and came out triumphant at the end of the two hours, without -the vaguest idea of what he had been laboring at. She hated history, -philosophy, and the belles-lettres, and never thought of preparing the -abstracts and reviews that he requested; and as he was unspeakably -afraid of her himself, she found no difficulty in eluding the detested -tasks. He was a slim young man, dressing in black and wearing -spectacles--very nervous and very much given to blushing. Indeed, his -face, at the end of the lesson, was ordinarily of a violent _rose de -chine_ color, and his hands so trembling and cold, that it was a great -relief to me when he succeeded in collecting his books and papers and -getting on his overcoat. I never saw so merciless a persecution; the -slyest, "cutest," and the most naive way of tripping him up in the full -tide of his discourse, and then bewailing her mistake; never by any -chance omitting an opportunity of making him blush and putting him in an -agony of nervousness. I am certain, so acutely did he suffer at her -hands, that if in an unguarded moment he had been brought to acknowledge -who of all others he most detested and dreaded, he would have answered, -unhesitatingly, "my pupil, from two to four, on Monday, Wednesday and -Friday." - -Indignant as I felt at Grace, it was no easy matter to keep from -laughing at the results of her pertness and _aplomb;_ and -notwithstanding Mr. Olman was evidently a well-read and cultivated -scholar, I anticipated in these lessons more of pain than of pleasure; -and although I determined to apply myself thoroughly to all he directed, -still, four o'clock was, and would, I feared, continue to be, a release. - -At dinner, that evening, Grace gave the bulletin of "Mr. Olman's -latest," and though her mother reproved her, no one thought it necessary -to discourage her by not laughing. Phil's "Ha! ha!" was honest and -unequivocal; he meant, he declared, some day to secrete himself under -the piano, and see Grace put the professor to rout and confusion. He -hated professors, for his part, and he'd like to see 'em all put to rout -and confusion. - -"Professors arn't in your line, are they, Phil?" said Grace, with a -laugh. - -"I beg, Phil," exclaimed Josephine, "that you'll never present yourself -unexpectedly to that wretched man. I am sure he'd swoon at the sight of -your breadth of shoulder and length of limb. You'd make at least three -of him." - -"Say four," put in Grace. "The professor doesn't weigh an ounce over -thirty-five pounds. I asked him, the other day, apropos of ancient -weights and measures, if he'd ever been weighed, and what the result -was." - -"You saucy child," said Phil, "I wonder he didn't box your ears." - -"No danger of that," responded Grace, complacently. "The professor knows -better than to quarrel with his bread and butter; he knows that pupils -don't grow on every bush, and it would take a great deal more than that -to provoke him into a retort. He only bites his lips, and grows red in -the face, and says, 'This is irrelevant, Miss Churchill.'" - -"Upon my word," said Josephine, with a sneer, "by the time the poor man -finishes your education, I think he'll be fit to be translated to his -reward, without any further sojourn in the church militant. No honest -council would deny him canonization after such a fiery trial." - -"Poor old Mabire must have a high place by this time, if his reward is -at all proportioned to his sufferings," said Grace, slily. "You -remember, Josephine, how sweet you used to be to that old man? I liked -to listen at the study door, and hear him walk up and down the floor, -and grind his teeth and gasp, 'C'est trop, c'est trop!' I suppose the -bread-and-butter question prevented his speaking to mamma; but, really, -you must confess, he was a victim! Now _I_ never go the lengths of -biting and scratching, but always confine myself to"---- - -"Grace, _mon ange_," cried Josephine, flushing up angrily, "if you don't -want to be sent to take your meals in the nursery, you had better learn -to be less pert and"---- - -"Truthful's the word you want, dear," drawled Grace, unconcernedly. - -"It's the last word I should think of applying to you," retorted her -sister. - -"_Tout doucement, cherie!_" ejaculated Grace, squeezing up her mouth. - -But at this juncture, mamma, who had been engaged in opening some notes -and cards of invitation that John had brought in, now becoming aroused -to a sense of the impending storm, came to the rescue, and in a few -cutting words used up everybody present, Phil and myself included, and -restored a forced peace; and during the remainder of the meal, Josephine -sulked, Phil looked heartily distressed, and I felt miserably -uncomfortable, Grace alone preserving an unmoved and complacent -demeanor. It was just as we had finished dessert, that there came a ring -at the bell that made me start. Foolish as it was, I had been listening -to the bell all day, with a vague kind of hope that it would prove of -interest to me; and when John presented a card to my aunt, which -contained the only familiar name to me in this strange place, and, in -fact, the only name I cared to see, I really feared that Grace's quick -ear would catch the loud throbbing of my heart, as she surely did catch -the quick blush on my cheeks. - -"It is Mr. Rutledge," said my aunt. "Josephine, will you go into the -parlor, and I will join you in a moment? Phil, may I ask you to look -over that deed we were speaking of this morning? The library is vacant; -I suppose you do not want to be interrupted. And you, young ladies (to -Grace and me), will find a good fire in the study, and an excellent -chance for preparing your German for to-morrow. Mr. Waschlager, you -know, comes at ten on Thursdays." - -Josephine, with a coquettish look in the glass, hurried off to the -parlor; Phil accepted his lot with a resigned sigh; Grace grumblingly -obeyed, and I followed her, biting my lips, and struggling to keep back -the tears of disappointment, as I heard, through the half open door, a -familiar voice and laugh, that my homesick ear had been longing for all -day. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - - - ----"Sweet heaven, she takes me up - As if she had fingered me, and dog-eared me, - And spelled me by the fire-side, half a life! - She knows my turns, my feeble points." - -E.B. BROWNING. - - -Christmas came and passed; my birthday came and passed; the holidays -were "over and done," and we were busily at work again with our various -professors; and, in my heart, I acknowledged that I liked work better -than play in my new home. Sundays and holidays were the times that tried -my soul. I do not mean in church; Christmas anthems, Christmas hopes and -aspirations had never before touched me so deeply as now, when there was -so much of dullness and coldness in the world outside. In church I did -not feel my loneliness so much, but it was the coming back to the -frivolity and uncongeniality of home that left the greatest blank. I do -not mean to suggest, that during all these weeks I had been as pining -and heartsick as I had been on the first day of my initiation. That day, -it is true, had been a fair index of the rest, but the acute -disappointment and pain had worn off, and I had learned to make the best -of it, and to go through my daily routine with a less heavy, but perhaps -an emptier and less hoping heart. "The ox, when he is weary, treads -surest." I was weary and unhopeful, and so, perhaps, trod more safely -the somewhat devious and perplexing path that lay before me. If the -subduing effect of a keenly felt and unkind disappointment, and a -miserable loneliness and want of sympathy, had not kept my impetuosity -and self-will in check, I perhaps should not have passed with so little -injury through scenes that were quite new and bewildering to me. As it -was, I was sad enough to think, sober enough to choose, and yet young -and elastic enough not to be crushed by the weight of my trial, but to -bow and fit myself to the yoke. I reasoned in a way that was childish in -its simplicity, and yet wise in its unworldliness. - -"I have been very presumptuous and vain," I thought. "I have fancied -myself the companion and friend of one who, by forgetting me, has shown -me my mistake, while there was yet time to correct it. I have been -indulging in a very foolish, though a very happy, dream; but as long as -he knows nothing of it, I am certain I can conquer it in time, and be -more humble for the rest of my life. I have not found much sympathy or -love in the only home I shall probably ever have; I don't suppose I -shall ever be particularly happy again, but there is something higher -than mere happiness that I can try to gain, and make myself worthy of -that communion of saints in which I have been taught to believe; -stretching through earth and heaven, of all kindreds and peoples and -tongues, among whom I have no present comrade, it is true, but there is -one saint at rest, who has no other care than her child's peace--who -loved me better than all the world beside, when she was here--who will -not forget her love and tenderness in the rest that she has entered -into." - -And so, with a humbled heart, I set myself to the "trivial round, the -common task," that gave me, indeed, much room for self-denial and -patience, but gave me, too, the peace that impatience and resistance -never would have brought. Much there was, indeed, of error and folly, -many mistaken steps and struggles of conscience, much sinning and -repenting, but, on the whole, it was a straighter and a safer path than -a pleasanter one would have been. There was, in truth, little danger of -being in love with the world, seen from the stand-point I had been -placed in. - -Home continued pretty much as usual. Of my aunt and Josephine, we of the -study and the nursery saw comparatively little. As the season advanced, -and the gaiety increased, there was not much time, of course, at my -aunt's command for any but the most imperative home duties; this being -Josephine's first winter in New York, it was a thing of the highest -moment to bring her out properly, and no sacrifice was considered too -great. Not that she neglected her household, or regular duties; at -whatever hour she may have returned home the night before, my Aunt Edith -never failed to appear at breakfast punctually; never failed to hear -Esther repeat her Collect, and glance over Grace's theme; never failed -to overlook the grocer's, baker's, and butcher's accounts; to visit in -person daily, kitchen, laundry, butler's pantry, nursery, and study; to -keep, in short, that eye over her entire establishment that it required -to preserve its matchless order and regularity. No wonder that my aunt -looked haggard and worn; no wonder that unwelcome wrinkles were writing -themselves on her brow, and that her rounded figure was fast losing its -roundness. To serve one master is as much as one human being is capable -of. In the miserable attempt to serve two, how many wrecks of soul and -body are daily wrought. - -I said we saw very little of my aunt; it seemed very little, for her -daily visits to us, though regular, were of necessity hurried, and at -meals she was generally either preoccupied and thoughtful, or busy with -Phil in arrangements and plans for the pressing demands of society. -Josephine, now-a-days, had her breakfast sent to her room, and was not -ordinarily visible before twelve o'clock. Then came visiting hours; and -at dinner, though, when they did not dine out, we enjoyed the society of -my aunt, and Josephine, and Phil, still it seemed to me, they were all -rather listless and stupid; but perhaps they were only reserving their -energies for the evening. After study hours, sometimes, and just before -my bed-time, I would go down to Josephine's room by particular request, -and assist her at her toilette; her new maid, Frances, being, she -declared, the clumsiest, stupidest thing that ever breathed, and having -a most unbearable trick of bursting into tears whenever she was scolded, -which, I suppose, deprived Josephine of all pleasure in her attendance. -My services suited her better, and I often had the honor of superseding -Frances. Not that I minded it at all; it was the only glimpse I had into -the gay world that I was as yet so ignorant of. I liked to array -Josephine in her elegant Parisian dresses, to arrange the drooping -flowers in her glossy black hair, and to clasp the rich bracelets on her -arms. Grace, on these occasions, was strictly forbidden the room; late -hours, dissipation and fatigue had not materially improved Josephine's -temper; and her pert young sister's allusions to bones, necks a la -gridiron, etc., tried her beyond endurance; and mamma interposing, -Grace, for once, was kept at bay. I will not deny a vague feeling of -regret and longing, as I watched my cousin's floating drapery -downstairs, and thought of the gay scene she was starting for; and as -Phil wrapped her light cloak around her, and whispered his honest -praises in her ear, as she followed her mother to the door, and I turned -back to my lonely little room, it did seem to me that there was great -need of faith to believe that her lot and mine were ordered by the same -unerring and impartial Wisdom. - -Our lessons went on pretty much as at first. With Mr. Olman, I was -rather a check upon Grace, and the poor man began to regard me with -something like gratitude. He was a good teacher, and gave me plenty of -work, for which I, in my turn, was grateful. Our French lessons, it -appeared to me, were rather a hollow mockery, Mdlle. Berteau, our -preceptress, being a chatty little woman, who spent one-half her time in -gossiping with Grace about Paris and pretty things, and the other half -in helping her write the exercises she had been too lazy to prepare the -night before. I also found later, that mademoiselle had been in the -habit of supplying her young pupil surreptitiously with some rather -questionable French literature. Upon a threat of disclosing this -circumstance to mamma, Grace made me a solemn promise to renounce it; -but I must confess I never felt any great security about its -fulfillment. - -Our German proved rather more satisfactory. Mr. Waschlager, a strapping, -burly, bearded fellow, with a loud voice and considerable energy of -manner, inspired Miss Grace with much greater respect than delicate Mr. -Olman, with his nervousness and tremor. His imperfect knowledge of our -mother-tongue, also, rendered any sly innuendoes quite powerless to -annoy him, and Grace's very strikingly imperfect knowledge of _his_ -maternal mode of speech, put it quite out of her ability to insult him, -if she had dared. So that, with the exception of having ordinarily to -write her exercises for her, and give her the benefit of my researches -in the dictionary at the last moment, I enjoyed my German lesson very -much, and made quite rapid advances in that language. - -A week or two before my arrival, Esther's daily governess (from all -accounts a miserably weak and injudicious person) had been dismissed, -having been found entirely incompetent to manage her young charge; and, -till another should be procured, I had asked my aunt if I should not -teach her for an hour or two every day. The offer had been very gladly -accepted, and, somehow, after a week or two, all question of obtaining a -new governess had died out, and Essie and her lessons had quietly -devolved on me. I did not mind it very much; the child was good enough, -and, with a little coaxing, got on tolerably well; but it was rather -hard always to be tied down to that duty for the hours that I invariably -felt most like reading or sewing, both of which occupations I found -entirely incompatible with the due direction of Miss Esther's early -mathematical efforts, and the proper supervision of her attempts at -penmanship. I had the benefit of her society at other hours also; she -kept pretty closely at my side during my leisure moments, favored by my -vicinity to the nursery, and was my invariable companion in my walks: -Grace never walked, except when ordered out under pain of her mother's -displeasure, and Felicie was, of course, only too glad to shift the duty -of exercising Miss Esther upon me. And as my aunt had a prejudice -against full carriages, she and Josephine were generally considered a -sufficient burden for the horses on Sunday, and Grace being commonly -threatened with headache on that day, Esther and I were left to -ourselves in the matter of church; and finding one not far distant, that -had some free seats within its ample limits, we profited by the -discovery, and pretty constantly filled two of them; Esther holding fast -to my dress, never for a moment letting go of it through service or -sermon; at times it seemed to me, as I caught her strange troubled eyes -fixed on the rich colors of the chancel window, or the misty blue of the -vaulted roof, that "her heart was envious of her eye," and she clung to -me, uncertain and hesitating, as her one tie to earth. I never could -quite make out the child; with all her pettishness, and very willful and -trying naughtiness, there were moods and fancies about her that -thoroughly puzzled me. The only way, I found, was to be as patient as -possible with the one, and humor the other as far as was practicable. - -I introduced her to her Prayer-book frequently at church, but to little -effect; she would obey for the moment, then the book would drop unheeded -from her hand, and she would presently be gazing dreamily before her -again. Never letting go my dress, she would slip down on her knees when -the others did, but when I glanced at her, it was always to find that -strange wistful look on her upturned face, that always gave me a vague -feeling of uneasiness. She was by no means a precocious child--rather a -backward and undeveloped one; but sometimes she startled me with -questions that were as much beyond what I had expected of her, as they -were beyond me to answer lucidly. - -Besides our dislike of Felicie and our liking for Trinity Chapel, there -was another bond of sympathy between my little cousin and me, and that -was, our cordial antipathy to "company" days and times. Not that we ever -had much personal interest in them, but the moral atmosphere of the -house, for the whole of the day on which one of my aunt's elaborate -dinner-parties occurred, was extremely grating to our nerves. My aunt -was always a little more decided and hurried, Josephine a shade more -imperious, Grace perter, Felicie more hateful, John more given to short -answers--in fact, no member of the household but felt oppressed by the -coming event. Grace and I dined with Esther at "the little dinner" at -one, on such occasions, and all we saw of the contents of the carriages -that, about six, began to roll up to the door, was seen from over the -balusters of the third-story staircase. My aunt, it is true, had at -first proposed to me to put on my new silk, and come downstairs, but it -seemed to me that the invitation was rather lukewarm, and she agreed -with me very readily in thinking that for this winter, it was better for -me to stay altogether out of society. - -"You will be all the fresher when you do appear, my love," said my aunt -Edith. - -So, _par consequent_, I saw but little of the visitors at the house, -though, through Grace, and the general table talk and accidental -meetings in the parlor, I kept the run of the most intimate and familiar -ones. Among the gentlemen, there was a Captain McGuffy, an army friend -of Phil's, who was a good deal at the house, principally noticeable for -his appetite and his moustache. Also, a stale old beau named Reese, who -was a kind of heir-loom in fashionable families, handed down from mother -to daughter along with other antique and valued relics, to grace their -entree into society. He had been an admirer of my aunt Edith's in her -opening bloom, but was now made over to Josephine, by that unselfish -parent, to swell the list of the younger one's retainers. Besides these, -there was a Mr. Wynkar, very young and very insignificant, endured -principally, I fancied, for his utility; and a young Frenchman, who was -quite new on the tapis, and much the rage. - -But it was a fact patent even to my simplicity, that Mr. Rutledge was, -_par excellence_, the most courted and desired guest in Gramercy Square. -For him, Josephine's smiles came thickest and sweetest, and the daring -freedom of speech and wit that characterized her bearing with Phil and -his military _confrere_, were, in his presence, toned down into a -spirited, but most taking coquetry, and the anxious frown on Aunt -Edith's brow was smoothed away whenever John announced, "Mr. Rutledge, -madam." That those announcements were very frequent, could never cease -to be a matter of interest to me, though there seemed little excuse for -my feeling any deeper personal concern in them than John himself. Being -always expected to retire directly from dinner to the study, we of -course lost all evening visitors, and in the daytime, it was even less -likely that we should encounter any one from the parlor. More than once, -on dinner-party nights, I had stood so near him, that I could have -whispered and he would have heard; shrinking down in the shadow of the -landing-place, I had watched him leave the dressing-room slowly, always -walking through the upper hall very leisurely, and looking attentively -around. But the darkness of that upper landing-place would baffle even -his keen eye; my very heart would stand still--the breath would not pass -my parted lips, and there would be no danger that his quick ear should -discover that which I would have died rather than he should have known. -I would watch him down the stairs, see him pause a moment before the -parlor-door, then, as he opened it, there would come, for an instant, -the gay clamor of many voices, the rustling of silks, the ringing of -laughter, then in an instant shut again, and I would creep back to my -dark and cheerless little room with a heart that, had I been older and -less humble, would have been bitter and resentful, but as it was, was -only aching and sad. I often wondered whether, if that bracelet had not -been fastened irrevocably on my arm, I should have taken it off? -Whether, if I could, I would have put far out of sight, all souvenirs of -that happy visit, that nobody seemed to remember now but me. Whether it -would have been any easier to forget, if I could have broken my promise -as he most assuredly had broken his. Of course he had broken it; the -only folly had been in my ever expecting him to remember such a jest an -hour after it was spoken. A one-sided friendship, indeed it was, upon -reflection, a very absurd friendship, between an ignorant school-girl -and an elegant, high-bred, cultivated gentleman, and one who, as Grace -said one day at the table, if he wasn't the coolest and most indifferent -of men, would be a perfect lion in society. - -"He's too _jeuced_ stiff and haughty to be tolerated," said Mr. Wynkar, -who, with Capt. McGuffy and Phil, was dining with us in such _petit -comite_, that it was not considered necessary to exclude the juniors -from the board. - -"You and he arn't intimate, then," said Grace, with a sly laugh, which -Josephine rather encouraged in a quiet way. - -"I never could see," said Capt. McGuffy, from under his moustache, "what -everybody finds in that man so remarkable. He has a tolerably correct -idea of a horse, and rides pretty well; but beyond that, I think he's -rather a stick." - -Grace elevated her eyebrows, and Mr. Wynkar went on to say, "that for -his part, he thought there was nothing about him but his money and his -family. Rutledge was a good name, and he was, without doubt, the best -match in society." - -"Match!" exclaimed the captain. "He's no more idea of marrying than a -monk. I pity the girl that sets her affections on his establishment. -_Ma foi_! She'd about as well make _beaux yeux_ at the bronze general in -Union Square. Her chance of making an impression would be about as -good." - -"McGuffy's right," said Phil, warmly. "If everybody knew as much as he -does, they'd let Mr. Rutledge alone, and turn their attention to -subjects that would pay better." - -"Army men upon a thousand a year, for instance," said Josephine, under -her breath, and with an irritated contraction of the brow. - -"Yes," said Mrs. Churchill, quite blandly, "it is peculiar, that any one -can see in him a marrying man. At his age, it is very seldom that one of -his disposition feels any inclination to form new ties and interests, -and enter upon so different a life. Nothing could surprise me more than -to hear that Mr. Rutledge was going to be married." - -Grace squeezed up her mouth in a significant way, and gave a funny look -at her mother as she said this, evidently exercising great self-denial -in not answering. - -Mr. Ellerton Wynkar took upon himself that office, and agreed entirely -with Mrs. Churchill, adding, however, that there were some stories about -the early life of the gentleman, that he didn't know whether to believe -or not. Was it true that he had been so dissipated when he was a young -man? - -Mrs. Churchill smiled, and shrugged her shoulders. She knew nothing -about that; he had spent most of his early life abroad, she said, and -sowed his wild oats, if he had any to sow, on another continent, and it -was but fair for us to be content to take him as he wished to appear at -home, and ignore the other continent. - -"You may bet your head," exclaimed the captain, emphatically, "that no -man with a fortune like his, ever settled down into morality and -farming, without having a good time or so, to begin with. Trust him for -that! The ladies wouldn't like him so well, if there wasn't a touch of -the sinner about him." - -Aunt Edith shook her head, and said that was a shocking doctrine; while -Josephine declared, with a laugh, they had to like sinners--there was -nothing else in society; and Mr. Wynkar taking it as a personal tribute, -pulled his pale moustache and smiled, while the captain concentrated his -herculean powers on an appropriate rejoinder, and Grace drew the -attention of the table to me, by exclaiming: - -"Why, what's the matter? You look as if you had been shot." - -"Rather, as if she'd like to shoot us," said Josephine, laughing. "What -_have_ we done to excite such horror? I hope you're not making yourself -unhappy on Mr. Rutledge's account. I think he's able to take care of -himself." - -"If I had known," said Mr. Wynkar, with an apologetic wave of the hand, -and a smile that was meant to be ironical, "if I had known that Mr. -Rutledge had so enthusiastic a friend present, I should have been more -careful; and I most humbly beg, that what I have said may be forgiven." - -The captain laughed a great laugh, and said he might have known that -wherever there was a pretty face, there was a friend to Mr. Rutledge; -and Grace asked, artlessly, what made me blush so; while only -good-natured Phil came to the rescue, and in his blunt, honest way, -exclaimed: - -"It's my opinion she's much in the right of it. I shouldn't think much -of her, if she wasn't angry at hearing anybody used up so, all on -suspicion, too. If there's anything against him, why, hang it, come out -and say so; but this making a man out a rascal, because people like him -and because he's got a fortune, upon my soul, I think it's a scurvy sort -of trick, that I do." - -"Don't hit him any more--he's got friends," whined Grace. - -"Phil quite mistakes us if he thinks we are not all Mr. Rutledge's -friends," said Mrs. Churchill. "No one dreamed of saying anything that -could possibly be considered uncomplimentary." - -"I don't know, Aunt Edith," said Phil, rather warmly; "but I hope you -don't pay me that sort of compliment when I'm not by." - -"Indeed we don't," exclaimed Josephine, laughing. "When you're absent, -Phil (which isn't often, you know), we all say you're the best fellow in -the world, and count the hours till you come back." - -"Then I think the best thing I can do is to stay away," he answered, -with a sort of sigh. - -"Ah, Phil, I know you wouldn't have the heart!" said Josephine, in a low -tone, with a bright flash of her coquettish eye; which had the effect of -subduing her cousin for the rest of the evening, and keeping him -obedient to her slightest whim. - -Though the rest of the family seemed to forget very soon the little -episode that had been so excruciating to me, and so amusing to them, I -do not think it was lost upon my aunt. I always found her looking at me -very narrowly whenever Mr. Rutledge was mentioned, and she on more than -one occasion, in my presence, took pains to speak of him in a way that -seemed to put a greater distance than ever between us, of his age, his -eccentricities, his reserve. My aunt might have saved herself the -trouble. I "knew my place" by this time, and shrunk as naturally from -meeting him now, as I had before been eager and forward. On the one or -two occasions when I could not avoid encountering him, it had been in -her presence, and I had been shy and cold to a degree that must have -been unaccountable to him, if he had given the matter a thought, which I -very much doubted. I had excused myself as hurriedly as possible, and -slipped back to the study, glad to be by myself again, yet bitterly -sorry, as soon as it was too late, that I had not staid where only I -wished to be--where only I found any pleasure, if such a doubtful -emotion indeed could be called pleasure. It was the nearest approach to -it, however, that my life presented; it was what I looked forward to, -spite of my good resolves from day to day; yet, when the wished-for -pleasure came, with strange shyness and perverseness, I thrust it away -out of my own reach, then cried passionately at the disappointment, and -began to hope again. The most inexplicable and contradictory thing in -all this world of contradictions, is a woman's heart, before experience -has tutored it. The woman herself does not understand it. What wonder if -its strange willfulness and sudden impulses hopelessly bewilder and -mislead the one of all others whom she most desires to please, and for -whom alone, if the truth were known, the foolish heart throbs and -flutters and pines. - - - - -CHAPTER XX. - - - "Doth not the world show men a very Judas' part, and betray them - unto Satan, saying, whom I kiss with a feigned sign of love, take - them--torture them?" - - SUTTON. - - -"Mamma says," drawled out Grace, sauntering into the study one snowy -morning, as I sat busy at my German, "mamma says, that as you write a -good hand, you may direct these cards for her, and she will excuse you -to Mr. Waschlager, if you don't have time to finish your German before -he comes." - -I could not help a slight exclamation of impatience as I relinquished my -books, and took the long list of names and the basketful of blank -envelopes that Grace handed me. - -"How glad I am that I don't write a nice hand!" she ejaculated, as she -threw herself lazily into a chair by the window, and leaning on her -elbow, gazed out into the streets, now "dumb with snow," but where, -before an hour was over, the jingling of an occasional sleigh-bell would -be but a prelude to the merry music with which, till the snow vanished, -they were to resound. - -"I should think you'd be glad to get rid of your German; though, I -suppose, it's only 'out of the frying-pan,' for you have a good -morning's work before you in those precious cards." - -I didn't trust myself to answer, and, after a pause, Grace went on: - -"I should think mamma might have set Josephine to write those things -herself, don't you? The party's all on her account, and she and Phil are -doing nothing down in the library this morning." - -Grace looked a little longer at the lessening snow-flakes, then -continued, pleasantly: - -"What shall you wear? For we've got to come down, mamma said so; and she -said, too, that she didn't believe you had anything fit to wear." - -"I haven't given a thought to the subject. Pray, don't talk, Grace, you -confuse me." - -"But you'll have to give it a thought," she exclaimed. "Josephine's -going to wear her new pink silk, and I should think you'd want to look -nicely the first time you go into company. Ella Wynkar was saying the -other day, she thought it was the queerest thing you never went -anywhere." - -"Grace, really if you can't be quiet, I must go into my own room. I -won't waste any more time misdirecting these cards, which I cannot help -doing if you talk all the while." - -She subsided for a few minutes, but pretty soon began again. - -"It's going to be splendid sleighing; it's stopped snowing altogether, -and I believe the sun is actually coming out; don't you wish there was -any chance of your having a sleigh-ride?" - -"No," I exclaimed, impatiently; "I don't wish for anything but quiet, -and if you must be lazy yourself, I don't see what need there is of -making other people so." - -"You're shockingly out of temper this morning," said Grace, shrugging -her shoulders and getting up to go. "I think I shall have to 'leave you -to your own reflections,' as mamma always says after giving any of us a -lecture. I must go and see what mischief Esther is in. She has been too -quiet this morning." - -I saw, by the sly gleam in Grace's eye, that Esther's peace was over; I -knew the futility of argument, and attempted none; ten minutes after, a -distressed little voice outside, crying, "Won't you speak to Grace? -She's got the brushes out of my paint-box, and she won't give 'em to -me," showed me how Grace was killing time. I opened the door for the -little _malheureuse_, told her not to mind about the paint-brushes, but -if she'd be a quiet child, she might sit down here and look at the big -"Pilgrim's Progress;" so I installed her in Grace's vacated seat, by the -window, and she dried her tears, and looked the book through twice; -then, kneeling in the chair, gazed out into the street, so quietly that -I almost forgot her existence. My task was a distasteful one, insomuch -as it interfered with pleasanter occupations, and I had great difficulty -in keeping my patience to its completion; but at last it was ended, and -the last name on the list copied on the envelope of the last card, and -replaced in the basket, and, fagged and dispirited, I pushed them away, -and, crossing over to the window, sat down by it, and took the child on -my knee. - -No wonder the scene had fascinated her so long; it certainly was bright -and picturesque. Snow is as magical a beautifier as moonlight; it -freshens up, gilds over, and brightens the worn-out surface of -every-day, and makes a pretty picture of a common reality. I had never -suspected Gramercy Park of beauty before, but under the light mantle of -this snow it became lovely. The trees bent with its light weight; it -capped and decorated the iron railings, and crested the roofs and -window-casings of the houses on the square. It lay white and unsullied -on the ground, and in the courtyards; only a few children had as yet -burst nursery bounds, and, wild with delight, rushed into the new -element; and but a few shovels and brooms were at work. The sky had come -out gorgeously blue, the sunshine was glittering gaily on the white -snow; it was altogether a brilliant picture, done in high colors, but -possessing the advantage that nature's pictures always enjoy, of not -having an inharmonious or jarring tinge. Even the sleigh-loads of -gaily-dressed people that began to dash past, seemed to have got -themselves up to match and not mar the scene. The bright colors of the -sleigh-robes, the flashing of the silver bells, the red cheeks of the -girls, the gay clothes of the pretty children, were quite harmonious and -quite effective. Esther looked at it for a long while in perfect -content, as she would have looked at a nice picture-book; by and by, it -began to assume a more personal character on her eyes. - -"I should like to go out and ride myself," she said, at length. - -"So should I, but there doesn't seem much chance of it," I answered; -"therefore, it's best not to think about it." - -"Other children go," she said. "I don't see why I can't. I think mamma -might have a sleigh." - -"That's mamma's business, and not yours," I said; "and there are more -little children who don't ride than there are little children who do. -There is one, for instance, coming out of the area, who has been poking -about, in all the ash-barrels in the square, for a few cinders to keep -him warm at home. Poor little fellow! Don't you feel sorry for him, -Essie? His ears and nose are so red, and his lips are almost purple. I -don't believe _he's_ had a sleigh-ride, do you?" - -Essie looked down thoughtfully at him, but didn't answer; no more -repinings occurring, however, I inferred that she had profited by the -train of thought the shivering little object below us had suggested. I -still sat by the window, with Essie in my lap and a book in my hand, -when, with a cry of pleasure, she started up, exclaiming, as a sleigh -drew up at the door: - -"There's Mr. Rutledge, and I know he's come for us to ride! Hurrah!" - -I bent forward, just in time to meet his eye, as he sprang from the -sleigh, and to return awkwardly his salutation. Esther waited for no -permission, but bounded from my lap, flew across the room, and -downstairs before I could recall her, and opened the door for him before -he had rung the bell. There was a very enthusiastic meeting between -them, and an excited "That's good!" from the child, and in a moment she -was back again at my side, breathless and eager, exclaiming: - -"Mr. Rutledge has come for us all, to drive out to High Bridge. Put on -your things quick--quick as ever you can." - -"Who's going? Who did he ask?" I said, breathless as the child herself. - -"You, me, mamma, Josephine, all of us! Be quick." - -"But listen, Essie," I exclaimed, following her to the hall, as she -bounded off up to the nursery. "Stop a minute. What did he say?--did he -say _me?_" - -"Yes, yes, he said, 'run up and ask your cousin if she'll take that ride -this morning that we talked about at Rutledge, and I'll go into the -parlor and ask your mamma and Miss Josephine;' and now let me run for -Felicie to get me ready;" and the child was off again, but came back -obediently when I called her. I held her tight by the hand, as, with a -beating heart, I leaned over the balusters, and heard the merry voices -in the hall below. I could not distinguish what Mr. Rutledge said, but I -heard Josephine's laughing rejoinder: - -"I assure you, I didn't mean to hint, last night, when I said I longed -for a sleigh-ride again; but it was just like you, to remember it. It's -a charming day. How we shall enjoy it!" - -I led Essie to the stairs, and leaning down, said: - -"Go down and tell Mr. Rutledge, that he's very kind, but I beg he will -excuse me to-day." - -The child looked bewildered, and exclaimed: "But, aren't you going?" - -"No; go down and say just what I have told you, remember; and then come -back, and I'll help you get ready." - -Esther wonderingly obeyed, and slid down the stairs like a spirit. I -scorned to listen any longer, though I would have given anything and -everything I possessed to have unravelled the tangled maze of voices in -the hall, and known how my refusal was received. Pride to the rescue! -however, and I was bending over my German, when my aunt looked in a -moment at the door, to inquire if I didn't care to go. - -I said, "No, thank you; I have my translation to finish, and, if you are -willing, I will stay at home." - -Just then, Josephine and Grace came up, and Essie burst into the room, -exclaiming: - -"Mamma, mamma, what shall I wear? What frock had I better put on?" - -"Why, you're not going," cried Josephine, pettishly. "Surely, mamma, you -do not mean to let that child go. There's no room for her if Phil goes, -and she'll be whimpering with the cold in ten minutes." - -"Mr. Rutledge only asked her for politeness," said Grace. "He never -thought of such a snip really going." - -"She'll spoil everything," said Josephine, decidedly. "I don't care to -go if she does." - -"I think, on the whole, my dear Essie," said Mrs. Churchill, "that it is -best for you not to go. You must amuse yourself at home, and be a good -child; we shall not be gone very long." - -The little girl's lips moved, as if she would speak, but no words came, -and, as the others left the room, I looked at her with some anxiety. I -never saw a face so changed. The brief radiance that had lighted it had -passed away, and in its place was a livid look of passion that fairly -frightened me. - -"Why, Essie, child, don't take it so to heart," I said, soothingly, -attempting to touch her cold, clenched hand, but with a fierce gesture -she released herself and turned away. I tried to pacify and divert her, -but received no word in answer, till, from the window, we saw the party -enter the sleigh, and after a moment of adjusting sleigh-robes and furs, -the fine horses started spiritedly forward, to the music of their own -merry bells; then, with a violent scream, the child threw herself upon -the floor, and shook from head to foot with a passion that many men and -women pass through life without experiencing. Such tempests cannot fail -to blight the souls they sweep over; they bow the cracking forest, and -strip it of its leaves; the tender sapling, alone and unprotected in its -flexile youth, can hardly escape undesolated. Swayed and whipped about -with the fierce blast, all that is tender and delicate about it must be -blighted; the stem that should have been fair and straight, must, if it -survive the trial, be twisted, and rough, and gnarled; it may strike a -deeper root; it will never cast as fine a shade, nor be as fair a tree. -If, unable to sustain the storm, the frail stem snap, and the life-blood -ooze away, is it a questionable providence, or an utter mercy? - -"Essie, my dear little girl," I continued, as the child still lay -sobbing on the floor, long after the first burst of temper had expended -itself, "Essie, you will surely make yourself sick; you are chilled -through already, and the room is getting cold; come upstairs with me." - -But no, the headstrong child would not go upstairs, but would lie there, -and only there, and sob, and cry, and refuse all comfort. It was not -till the shaking of sleigh-bells at the door announced the return of the -party, that my arguments had the least effect. - -"Don't let them see you lying there, Esther. Come up, and let me wash -the tears off your face and smooth your hair," I said; and she allowed -me to lift her up, and lead her upstairs, before her sisters came in. -Felicie was busy with a skirt of Josephine's, so I shut the nursery door -and kept the child with me. But this time there was no soothing her; she -was fretful and trying beyond anything I had ever seen; perhaps if I had -not been so miserable myself then, I could not have been as patient -with her, as I remember I was. I was wretched enough to have lain down -and sobbed myself, but the office of comforter is incompatible with that -of mourner, and so is an office twice blessed; for tempting as is the -luxury of tears, the reward of self-control is always greater and more -lasting. - -"The dinner-bell will soon ring, Essie, and you will not be ready to -come down to dessert; come and let me brush your hair." - -"I don't want to go down; I don't want any dessert," she whined. - -Her hands were now hot and feverish, her teeth chattering with -nervousness, and I recognized the approach of one of her sick headaches. -I did not much wonder that she did not want to go down, so I coaxed her -to let me undress her, and put her to bed, "and if you'll be a good -child, you may sleep with me to-night." - -"Very well," she said, laconically, with a weary sigh; and before the -dinner-bell rang, I had laid her, quieted, in my bed, with, however, a -very wide-awake and nervous stare about her eyes, but no tears and not -much fretting. - -For the next few days, the absorbing cares of the approaching party must -have prevented my Aunt Edith from seeing the real indisposition of -Esther. That her increasing irritability was the result of illness, I -could not doubt, as I had ascertained for myself, that she could be as -quiet as other children, when she was well. Josephine declared, I -spoiled the teasing little object. Grace said, with a laugh: - -"You can't reproach yourself with anything of the kind, can you, -Joseph?" - -And Phil, taking "the teasing little object" on his knee, said: - -"Aunt Edith, upon my word, the child grows lighter every time I take her -up. Is she well?" - -"I mean to have the doctor this morning," she answered, looking up from -her writing. "I am rather worried about her; she is a little feverish. -Esther, don't stay by the window; it is too cold for you. Go up to the -nursery, and tell Felicie to put a little sacque on you." - -So Esther was remanded to the nursery, and it being the day before the -party, there was plenty to be done and thought of for all hands. And -though the doctor came, he did not seem much impressed with her state of -health--left a very innocent prescription that was not sent for till the -next day, and eased everybody's mind exceedingly. What a very -comfortable thing it is to be able to pin one's faith to a medical -coatsleeve, and according as it is elevated or depressed, be soothed or -terrified. - -Any disinterested observer, I think, would have agreed with Esther and -me, that party-giving was not in any way conducive to home comfort. That -wretched day, lessons of course were given up; the study being turned -into a dressing-room, and the nursery sharing the same fate--my room was -the sanctuary where Grace and Esther sought refuge from the bustle and -confusion of the first and second floors, and no paradise it proved, -Essie being unbearably peevish and Grace unbearably provoking. Aunt -Edith tore herself away from the claims of upholsterer, florist, and -waiter for a moment, to look in upon us--gave the final directions about -our dresses, and pronounced Esther's sentence, which she had been -dreading for days, to wit, that she must not go downstairs. It was a -most proper sentence, but it was a cruel disappointment, and the child -of course cried herself into another headache. I induced her to go to -bed about seven o'clock, but she sat bolt upright, watching eagerly the -operations of the hairdresser, who had come to Grace and me, before -arranging Josephine's hair. - -"Esther, do go to sleep, and stop bothering!" cried Grace. "You've done -nothing but worry this whole day." - -A fresh burst of tears was the answer to this, and Grace was more -incensed than ever. - -"I think this is a pursuit of pleasure under difficulties, indeed," I -exclaimed, despairing. "I hope all parties are not as much trouble! Will -it pay, do you suppose?" - -"_Cela depend_," said Grace; "if you get attended to, it may; if you -have to talk to the old ladies, and look over books of engravings in the -corner, it wont." - -I inly wondered which would be my fate, as I glanced at the pretty -muslin on the foot of the bed. "Not the old ladies and the engravings I -hope." It was my first party, and though everything seemed to conspire -to make it a punishment, still I would have been more than human if I -had felt no excitement when I first dressed myself in party-dress. White -muslin and coral ornaments were not very elaborate certainly, but they -were a great contrast to the plain clothes I had seen myself in since I -could remember. When Grace was dressed, she went down, but Essie clung -to me and begged me to stay so piteously, that I could not resist; and -turning out the gas, I sat down on the bed by her, and told her stories -by the dozen, and sung her hymns, in the vain hope of getting her to -sleep; but she seemed to grow wider awake every minute. Ten o'clock -chimed; the music began; the carriages were rolling to the door, and -still she held my hand firmly, and said, "go on," in a hopelessly-clear -voice, every time I paused in my recital. I was beginning to be in dire -perplexity about leaving her, when the door opened, and Grace put her -head in, saying, hurriedly: - -"Mamma sent me up to say you must come down directly; half the people -are here, and they are beginning to dance. Come as quick as you can," -and Grace disappeared. - -There was another burst of grief from Esther to be soothed and subdued, -and at last, taking my gloves and fan, and kissing her good night, I -stole out of the room, thinking her quite reconciled; but when half way -down the stairs, I looked back, and saw the child, in her long white -nightgown, standing at the head of the staircase, and heard her -heart-broken voice begging me to come back, it was so lonesome, she was -so sick. At the foot stood Grace. - -"Mamma is displeased that you do not come." - -What should I do? I ran upstairs again. Essie stood shivering at the -door, a bright spot on each cheek, and an excited glitter in her eye. - -"Essie!" I exclaimed, "why will you be so naughty? Don't you know mamma -has sent for me twice? Do you want me to be scolded?" - -"No, but I don't want to be left; it is so lonesome up here." - -"But don't you know I promised to send Felicie up; and do I ever break -my promises?" - -"I don't want Felicie to come; she's cross," said the child. - -"Well, then, Frances shall come; will she do?" - -"Frances is busy, and you'll forget all about me when you get down there -among the people." - -"No, I won't, my darling," I said, stooping down, as she put her arms -around my neck. "I will send Frances, and come up and see you in a -little while myself. Be a good child, and go get in bed. Good night." - -She laid her burning little cheek against mine for a moment; then -submissively went in, and I turned to go downstairs. As I rose from my -stooping attitude, I looked in at the nursery door, which, in my hurry, -I had forgotten was the gentlemen's dressing-room; and that, as well as -the hall, was strongly lighted. Two gentlemen, just within the door, had -been witnesses of the scene of distress just enacted, and apparently not -inattentive ones either. They were evidently strangers to each other, -and one was so to me; I never remembered to have seen him before. The -other was Mr. Rutledge. - -He held out his hand with a smile, as I started back in confusion on -seeing them. I gave him mine with a desperate blush, and saying, -hurriedly, that I must go down for Frances, without giving him time for -another word, I ran down the stairs, and into the second hall, whence, -picking my way as daintily as I could, I threaded the narrowness and -darkness of the private staircase, that led to the butler's pantry. -There I found, as I had expected, an eager group of domestics gazing in -through the windows into the parlors, watching the dancing with an -interest only second to that of the dancers themselves. I singled out -Frances from the group, and calling her to me, told her my errand, and -she, with a submissive sigh for the lost festivities, followed me -upstairs. I saw her safely at the door of Essie's room, then, turning, -began to descend, this time more slowly, and to think seriously of the -alarming matter of my entree. As I neared the parlors, the music, the -odor of the flowers, the brilliant lights, the gay dresses, all crowded -intoxicatingly upon my brain. - - "I only knew 'twas fair and sweet, - 'Twas wandering on enchanted ground, - With dizzy brow and tottering feet." - -It was not a ball-room, it was the fairy-land, the magic, the romance, -of which I had dreamed; what adventures lay within it for me; what -untold delirious joy should I experience when I had crossed the -threshold. And how should I cross it? Alone and timid, how could I stem -that flashing, glittering crowd? And, among them all, whose protection -should I seek, to whose side should I make my way? There was no time for -hesitation; I was at the door; the gentleman whom I had seen upstairs, -stood aside to let me pass; two or three ladies made way for me, and in -a moment more I found myself at my aunt's side. - -"You are very late," she said, in a low tone. - -"I could not help it, Aunt Edith," I began; but a new arrival took up -her attention, and I was left to make my own reflections upon the scene -before me. It took a few minutes for me to come to my senses -sufficiently to look about, and see things reasonably. It was some time -before I recognized Josephine among the many strange faces. She was not -dancing, but, with an admiring crowd around her, stood at the other end -of the room, dispensing her coquettish smiles with tact and judgment. -Grace was dancing with a lazy sort of grace that became her. Her partner -was a painfully shy, undeveloped college youth, of whom, I could see, -she was making all manner of ridicule, judging from the contortions of -merriment visible on the face of her _vis-a-vis_, Captain McGuffy, with -whom she exchanged a whispered witticism every time they met. Phil, with -a self-denying heroism I had not given him credit for, was doing the -agreeable to every one, dancing with all the girls who didn't seem to be -having a nice time, and doing the honors of the house to the gentlemen -without a groan. An occasional smile from Josephine, and a few words of -approval from Mrs. Churchill, seemed to be all the reward he asked. - -Many of the faces about me were familiar. Grace had pointed them out to -me in the street, and I had occasionally met them in the hall; but, of -all the crowd, only one was an acquaintance, and that very far from a -familiar one. Josephine's most intimate and particular confidante, Miss -Ella Wynkar, gave me a look in passing, that was not striking for its -graciousness, and a little nod. I had seen her at dinner more than once, -when she had dined with us, and gone to the opera under my aunt's -chaperonage. I never could understand her intimacy with Josephine; I -knew they were dying of jealousy of each other, and Josephine, for one, -never omitted an opportunity of saying an ill-natured thing about her -friend behind her friend's back; and her friend, I felt certain, was not -any more scrupulous; notwithstanding, they were the most loving and -tender of companions, and continually seeking each other's society. -Josephine made visits with Ella, and Ella shopped with Josephine. Mrs. -Churchill took Ella to the opera, and Mrs. Wynkar chaperoned Josephine -to matinees and weddings. Ella was the whitest of blondes, and neither -intellectually nor physically at all in Josephine's style; she had not a -pretty or expressive feature in her face; a general look of whiteness -and sweetness about her, being her sole attraction. She was very much -below Josephine in intelligence, but was not destitute of a certain -shrewdness of her own, which, with some little exertion, kept her up to -her friend's level. She lacked Josephine's nice French tact and polish, -and was very American and very New York in her rather "loud" style, and -very high-colored mode of expressing herself. Josephine must have an -intimate friend, however, and so, I suppose, the most advantageous and -proper one was selected. Such coalitions are recognized in society, -whereunto, of course, people must conform. - -Ella, as I have said, was not at the pains to recognize me very affably -on the evening of the party. I bit my lip and didn't mind, but somehow -the glamor of romance was beginning to recede from the scene, and I was -beginning only to see a roomful of people, strange to me, and none too -affectionate to each other, flirting, dancing, quizzing each other; -dowagers in velvet watching daughters in tarletan, young beaux elbowing -old beaux, and every man showing himself unmistakably for himself. At -first, it amused me to watch the people and their ways, but soon, like -Essie and her sleigh-ride, I began to feel as if it would be very -pleasant to have somebody to talk to, and be entertained by, as the -other young ladies had. I felt hopelessly frightened, and shrunk as far -as possible into the corner behind my aunt, whenever I caught any one's -eye; which wasn't often, however, for every one seemed too busy with -themselves and their partners, or companions, to notice me. Grace, -passing near me with a young collegian or two, whispered, "Are you -having a stupid time?" and the truth that I was having just such a -time, made the blood rush to my cheeks. My aunt turned to me and said: - -"Why are you so quiet? Go and amuse yourself; you are at home, you -know--talk to some one," and she turned away. - -I was at home, yes, I knew that. As one of the young ladies of the -house, I was of course entitled to be freed from some of the trammels -that society imposes upon those of my age and sex. I might with -propriety go and talk to any young ladies who were disengaged and -silent; but I really felt no inclination to avail myself of this -privilege. Every one seemed engaged but me; no one noticed me, and I -retreated further into the corner than before. It was very kind in my -aunt to tell me to go and amuse myself. I wondered if she had contented -herself with giving such a kind permission to Josephine on the night of -her first party, when she was new to society, and strange and -partner-less in it? - -"This is society, then," I said to myself. "Mr. Rutledge needn't have -warned me so against it. I do not see much danger of my loving it too -well. It isn't any too pleasant to be alone and unattended to; it is -rather bitter to feel that every one who looks at me must think, 'what a -dull time that girl is having!' and wonder why I know no one." - -It _was_ bitter enough, and for a while I longed to get out of it all, -and steal upstairs, and be by myself, but I knew for the present that -was hopeless, so I did the wisest thing I could have done, viz., set to -work to reason myself out of my discontent and folly, and tried the -"dodge" recommended in the old Greek comedy, that is, "being revenged on -fortune by becoming a philosopher." And a philosopher, in white muslin -and coral, then and there I became; and in ten minutes, the pettishness -had all vanished from my heart, and, _par consequent_, from my face, and -I was myself again. - -This was a strange termination of all my day-dreams; a strange entree -into the world; but no doubt it was the best thing that could have -happened to me. Had I not promised to renounce it, and had it not been -very wrong for me to have gone on hoping to reap some pleasure from it, -notwithstanding? Was not this the kindest way to bring to my remembrance -the vow and promise that I had so nearly forgotten. Was it not better -for me to remember at the outset, that it and I were never to be in -league, never to be other than enemies? That if "there was no way but -this," this was not so very hard and cruel a way? Poor Frances upstairs, -with her swollen eyes and wan face, had doubtless a harder yoke to bear -in her youth than I had, and so, with a hundred other swollen-eyed and -wan-faced girls whom I daily met in the streets. "Let's think on our -marcies," I mentally ejaculated, quoting with a half smile, the words of -old "Aunt Chloe" to her husband on their cruel parting. Which, by the -way, is the finest passage in all that strange story of "Uncle Tom;" a -passage unalloyed by affectation, exaggeration or false -sentiment--simple, great, and heroic--worth twenty little Eva's dying -speeches, and unnatural angelhood. - -After the lapse of an hour, I thought I might be allowed to keep my -promise to Essie, so I stole quietly out of the gay crowd, and went up -to my room. Esther had gone to sleep, and Frances, startled from an -attitude of weeping, obeyed my permission to go down and watch the -dancing for half an hour, while I should relieve guard and take care of -the child, whose burning temples and restless moaning made me certain -that it was not right to leave her alone. She did not wake up, however, -during my vigil, and Frances came back very punctually. I kissed the -little sleeper again, and with a very much sobered fancy, descended to -the parlors. Mr. Rutledge stood at the foot of the stairs, and joined me -as I reached the hall. - -"Hasn't _la petite_ gone to sleep yet?" he asked, offering me his arm. - -"Oh yes! some time ago." - -"Then you prefer upstairs to downstairs, even on gala nights?" he -inquired, with a smile. - -"I don't know exactly," I answered; but at this moment, Phil made his -appearance with the gentleman who had been at the dressing-room door -when Essie had made her unexpected _debut_. - -"Ah, here you are!" he exclaimed; "we have been hunting you high and low -for a good half hour." And he presented, "Mr. Viennet." - -The name, and his very slight foreign accent, assured me that this was -the young Frenchman of whom I had heard so much from Grace and -Josephine. He was at once "the best dancer," "the handsomest fellow," -and "the cleverest man" in society, so when he bowed very low and asked -me to dance, it was as if the planet Mercury had slid down the starry -floor of heaven and demanded the honor of my hand. All I could do was to -drop my eyes, blush very much, and assent. - -Mr. Rutledge released me instantly, bowed and drew back. Mr. Viennet -gave me his arm, and in a moment we were on the floor. - -Nobody that dances well but loves it. I danced well, and I loved it. Mr. -Viennet told me he knew _that_, the moment he looked at me, and as he -seemed to take a wicked pleasure in saying such things, and making me -blush, I soon regained my self-possession, and a certain degree of -sauciness wherewith to parry these remarks. The captain was my -vis-a-vis, and he whispered as we met: - -"Upon my soul, Miss Josephine'll have to look to her laurels; my friend -Victor seems mightily _epris._" - -"Is the captain asking you to dance?" demanded Mr. Viennet. - -"Remember, mademoiselle, you are engaged to me for the next." - -The next dance proved a polka. I had half resolved never to dance -anything but quadrilles; I had not thought much about the matter, but I -had an indefinite sort of idea that some people condemned polkas and -waltzes, and that it would be better not to indulge in them. But I had -made no resolution strong enough to resist my partner's persuasions, and -that fine floor, and the magic of the music. Before I knew it, I was -flying down the room with Mr. Viennet, and having once tasted of that -delirious pleasure, there was no putting the cup from my lips. One dance -merged into another, polka, redowa, waltz, succeeded each other in -intoxicating rapidity; a turn in the hall, or an ice in the library, -being the only rest between. It did not take one whit from my pleasure, -rather added extremely thereunto, that a face I knew too well, but -sterner and colder than I had ever seen it, was watching me with marked -disapproval. I avoided meeting his eye as I floated past him; I never -laughed so gaily or danced so well as when I knew we were near him; my -handsome partner owed half the smiles I gave him, to the fact of that -stern face. I had been unnaturally depressed too long not to be -unnaturally excited now. I was all my school-days' self again, with an -under-current of something stronger and deeper, and more dangerous. - -"You don't look like the same girl. How you do love to dance!" said -Phil, in a low tone, as he brought up some one else to introduce. -"Victor, my fine fellow, you must come and talk with somebody else. Mrs. -Churchill says you shall not dance with her niece again. Go and make -your peace with her." - -"_De tout mon coeur_," he returned. "And I will release mademoiselle for -this dance; but of course she remembers that she has promised me the -next." - -I laughed at this bold invention, as I went off with my new partner; but -Mr. Viennet claimed me resolutely at the end of the quadrille, and -though there was no lack of partners now, still he continued to be the -prominent one, _malgre_ Josephine's black looks, and Aunt Edith's -distant coldness. Not all the king's horses, nor all the king's men, -could bring me back to where I had stood before I knew my power. I was -dizzy with my triumph yet; it was no time to talk to me of moderation. I -had just begun to feel that there was no reason why I should not enjoy -myself as other girls enjoyed themselves. I did not feel submissive -toward those who had kept me down so long. I answered Josephine's -sarcasm with a sarcasm as biting. I returned Grace's compliment with -interest. To Ellerton Wynkar, who asked me to dance, I regretted, but -was engaged for the rest of the evening, and sent him away with a -hauteur that paid off all old scores. At supper, I held a miniature -court at one end of the room, and not Josephine's self ever swayed a -more despotic rule. And when "the German" began, no one ever led the -German but Victor Viennet, and with no one else would he dance, so I was -then and there initiated into the intricacies of that genteel game of -romps. - -As we paused in the first figure, I glanced at my silent mentor. He was -just bidding my aunt good night, and left the room without a look toward -the dancers. My interest in the game began to flag somewhat after that, -but still it was dancing, and I loved that well enough never to tire. - -The dance was ended, and the room nearly deserted, before my partner -left me. As the door closed on the last guest, Josephine threw herself -into an easy-chair, exclaiming: - -"I'm tired to death! I thought they would never go." - -"Tired! I could dance till noon," I cried. "It's a positive punishment -to go to bed. Good night," and I ran upstairs. - -It was one thing to go to bed, and another thing to go to sleep--one -thing to shut my eyes, but quite another thing to shut out the pageantry -of fancy that the darkness did not quench. Conjecture, hope, -anticipation, longing, made wild work in my brain that night. Everything -was too new, and strange, and dazzling, to yield at once to the control -of reason. The curtain had risen upon too brilliant a scene to fade from -my imagination, even after it had fallen. New faces, snatches of music, -conversations, danced through my mind; but above all other sensations, a -new sense of injustice and resentment made itself felt, and defiance -took the place of the unquestioning submission I had rendered before. -This was the thorn in my new crown of roses that took away from it its -simplicity, its unalloyed beauty, and, perhaps, its innocence. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. - - - "Who pleasure follows pleasure slays; - God's wrath upon himself he wreaks; - But all delights rejoice his days - Who takes with thanks, yet never seeks." - -COVENTRY PATMORE. - - -Two days after this, I was surprised by the appearance on my plate, at -breakfast, of two notes. The first proved to be an invitation for a -party from a Mrs. Humphrey, cards for which Mrs. and Miss Churchill had -received a week ago. - -"Well!" exclaimed Josephine, unceremoniously, "I wonder what inspired -Mrs. Humphrey to send you an invitation." - -"It would be difficult to say," I returned, taking up the second. -"Certainly no suggestion from you." - -"Alps on Alps!" exclaimed Grace, looking over my shoulder. "Tickets for -the Charity Ball! What next?" - -"What, indeed," I said. "John, some more sugar in my coffee, if you -please." - -"Really, you don't seem much excited by your invitations. I suppose you -don't intend to accept them?" - -"Accept them!" echoed Josephine. "What an idea! It would be perfectly -absurd to think of it, when it's understood that she's not out yet." - -"I think I'll risk that," I answered, decidedly. "If Aunt Edith has no -objection, I will avail myself of any invitations that I may receive for -the next ten days. After that, Lent, you know, will decide the matter -for us all." - -"You must follow the dictates of your own judgment," returned my aunt, -coldly. "Staying at home was your own choice, going out is at your own -option." - -"I know, dear aunt," I replied, with unaltered _sang froid_, "that you -would do anything to indulge me in anything reasonable, and as I have -quite set my heart upon this, I am sure you will not make any objection -to it. You are the last person to put anything in the way of my pleasure -and advantage." - -"Pleasure and advantage are not always synonymous terms, my dear. What -you might be pleased to consider pleasure, I might look upon as anything -but advantageous, you know." - -"Oh! we shall not differ as to that, I fancy. You cannot be more careful -of me than of Josephine, and she has certainly tested pretty thoroughly -the merits of the question. I should not think of going out as she does, -to two or three parties of an evening, and spending the intervening -hours of daylight in bed; but just three or four balls before the season -closes, to see what it's all like, I really must enjoy, with your -permission." - -"Or without it," muttered Josephine. "You have enough _aplomb_ to -sustain you in that or any other impertinence you might undertake." - -"Josephine," said her mother, sternly, "you forget yourself. My dear," -to me, "you know I shall put no obstacle in the way of your enjoyment. -You have my full permission to do as you think best." - -"Thank you," I answered; "and I have the greatest desire to go to one of -these mammoth charity balls. How lucky that it comes to-night, and that -Mrs. Humphrey's is to-morrow, so that I can go to both." - -"In what, if I may ask," said Grace, "do you propose appearing?" - -"That's a question, I fancy, that has not occurred to our young friend," -remarked Josephine. - -"It's easily enough settled," I answered. "White muslin, 'with -variations,' will be a sufficient toilette for _me_, you know." - -"You'll excuse me for saying, that I think it is a matter of very little -moment to any one but yourself," said she, with a laugh, as she rose -from the table. - -"Don't be spiteful, Joseph," said Grace, the only error of whose tactics -was, that she could not confine herself to any one side in an encounter, -and could not resist administering a blow on any exposed cranium, -indiscriminately of friend or foe--"don't be spiteful, Joseph. She -couldn't help taking off Victor, you know. It was trying, to be sure, -but then it left you more time for 'the substantials.'" - -Josephine, pressing her lips together, darted a threatening look at her -sister, who, with a pleasant little nod, slipped through the folding -doors and vanished. - -"May I speak to you a moment?" I said, following Mrs. Churchill into the -butler's pantry. - -"Certainly," she answered, in a tone that did not invite confidence. - -I had followed my aunt to say two things to her: the first was about -myself, the second was about Esther. I had meant to say that if she -really thought I was doing an unwise thing in going to these balls, I -was willing to give them up. Conscience had made a suggestion or two -that morning, and I was not yet careless about its admonitions. A kind -word of advice, a look of motherly reluctance to deny me pleasure, and -yet of motherly solicitude for my good, would have settled the doubt, -and put me in the right way. But the tone in which she said "certainly," -and proceeded to fit the key into the wine-closet, without so much as a -look toward me, roused all the evil in my heart. - -"You will never be troubled with any of my repentances," I thought, -angrily; and then, in a tone that I suppose took its color from my -thoughts, I said: - -"I came to say, Aunt Edith, that perhaps you are not aware how much it -irritates Essie to have Felicie take care of her. Felicie doesn't seem -to have a pleasant way with her, and now she is confined to the nursery, -she is continually fretted and unhappy. I find her more feverish every -time I go upstairs, and I thought perhaps if you were willing to let -Frances sit up there instead, she would amuse and keep her quiet better. -She seems to like Frances." - -Mrs. Churchill turned around and regarded me attentively for a moment, -then said: - -"I am sorry that your own good sense did not teach you the impropriety -of such an interference as this, and that I am obliged to remind you of -our relative positions, before you can understand how much such a thing -as this offends me. The management of the household is my province, and -any interference or advice concerning it I reject decidedly. If Esther -is peevish and ill-tempered, I certainly hope Felicie will be strict -with her. I have no intention of humoring her caprices, or disarranging -the family to suit her whims. You may dismiss the subject from your mind -entirely." - -I bowed and left the room, with what bitter and resentful feelings it is -easy to imagine. When Essie came crying to the door of my room, half an -hour after, I sent her away; I was busy, she must not come in, and -though her miserable face haunted me, I stubbornly put back the counsel -that it gave me. I had been told not to interfere, and I would obey. All -day I did not interfere--all day the evil spirit ruled, and I heard, -without a remonstrance, the storm from the nursery, which, however, -gradually subsided as the day advanced. I had enough employment, -meantime, to keep down conscience; there was a flounce of my white dress -to be repaired, and the blue bows to be made before evening. Mr. -Waschlager did not come; Mr. Olman, poor man, had been ill for a week, -and to-morrow was Miss Berteau's day, so there was nothing of duty to -fill up the hours that would have hung heavily if it had not been for -the anticipations of, and preparations for, the evening, - -I turned the key of my door on Grace, and the key of my heart on poor -little Essie, and toward evening threw myself into a chair by the fire, -and read the latest number of "The Newcomes." And who ever read -Thackeray without feeling the greatest longing to see the world which he -decries? Who ever laid down a volume of his without a more eager thirst -for the pomps and vanities than they had ever felt before? Who wouldn't -have been Ethel, "with all swelldom at her feet," even if she did cheat -herself of her happiness, and stored up sorrow for the heavy years to -come? Who could have the heart to say that Pen, in his zenith, wasn't to -be envied? or that George Osborne wasn't a good fellow? I, for one, -never felt any less attracted toward them because Mr. Thackeray, after -spending on them the finest colors on his pallet, tells us they are not -to be approved after all, and that they are not in the right way, and -that they have any amount of discipline to go through before they are -perfected. I always felt inclined to "skip" the discipline; the natural -man was the genuine one--the improvement wasn't spicy. So, on this -occasion, I read on, fascinated, till twilight's gradual fingers stole -between me and the page, and I reluctantly gave it up, and dreamed on -about the story till the dinner bell rang. - -Then I started up, struck with a feeling of remorse that Essie had -missed her accustomed twilight story for the first time this winter. I -smoothed my hair and hurried into the nursery. Silence reigned there; -Felicie sat by the dim light, quietly pursuing her work. I asked for -Essie, and she rather sullenly pointed to the bed. It was unusual for -her to sleep at this hour; indeed at all hours she was a light sleeper, -and I had never before known her to be willing to lie down even in the -daytime, so it was with some surprise that, on stooping down, I saw she -was sleeping, and sleeping heavily. - -"Why does she sleep so soundly, Felicie?" I said, looking up. - -"Because she's sleepy, I suppose, mademoiselle," she answered, rather -shortly. - -It was not worth while being angry with the woman, and indeed I did not -feel like resenting any impertinence to myself, as I looked down at the -quiet face of the little girl. Asleep, and free from the haggard, -restless expression that her features ordinarily wore, she was almost -pretty, almost child-like, but even in sleep there was a weary look -about her that was pitiful. "Poor little mite," I murmured, "I've been -unkind to you all day. Why won't you wake up and kiss me?" - -But she did not wake; and when, in the selfishness of my self-reproach, -I lifted her up and kissed her, in the hope that it would rouse her, the -little arms fell down, limp and lifeless, and the little head sunk -heavily back on the pillow, and she slept on unmoved. My interference in -the morning had not been without its effect; as I left by one door, my -aunt entered by another. She had been up twice since morning, and I -could see she was uneasy; but, looking down at the child, I heard her -say, in a tone of relief: - -"Ah! she's sleeping nicely now!" and the voice of Felicie responded -blandly. I think it was a load off her mind, for at dinner she was -unusually affable. - -Phil and Captain McGuffy were dining with us, and were to accompany us -in the evening. The captain was extremely gracious to me; and as on -former occasions he had appeared as nearly unconscious of my presence as -was possible, I simply concluded that the sagacious captain was like the -rest of the world, and was better satisfied to trust looking through his -neighbors' glasses than through his own. - -"Ever so many people," he said to me, as the soup was being removed (the -captain rarely conversed much while there was anything engrossing on the -table), "ever so many people have asked me about sending you -invitations, and I've told 'em by all means; for you certainly were -going out." - -"Why didn't you remind them of Grace and Esther, and let them have the -whole of the nursery, while they were about it?" asked Josephine, -scornfully. - -"Grace can speak for herself," said that young person, tartly. "You may -tell them, if they ask anything about me," she continued, turning to the -captain, "that they needn't look for my _debut_ till Josephine is -disposed of, and I am, _par excellence_, Miss Churchill." - -"Then," said the captain, gallantly, "you will not have a long time to -wait, if what they say is true. I hear it hinted, Miss Josephine, that -since Mr. Rutledge came from abroad this last time, he is quite changed, -softened, you know, and made rather a society man; and they _do_ say -that his friends in Gramercy Square have something to do with it." - -"I can't imagine how," said Josephine, all smiles and blushes. - -"If Joseph knew when she was well off," interposed Grace, who loved to -damp her sister's triumphs, "she wouldn't blush; she doesn't look well; -she grows mahogany color, doesn't she Phil. Why, you're blushing too! -What's the matter with everybody?" - -"Everybody is blushing at your rudeness," said Mrs. Churchill, gravely. -"I am sorry to be obliged to reprove you at the table; but I assure you, -if you are not more careful"---- - -"Oh, mamma! you've always said it wasn't polite to deliver a reprimand -in company; don't break through your rule. I won't say another word -about blushing. Let's talk of something pleasanter. So," she continued, -turning to the captain, "they really say Mr. Rutledge wants to marry -Josephine?" - -"Grace, leave the table," said her mother, concisely, but in a tone -there was no mistaking, and which fell on the ears of the startled -company with uncomfortable clearness, and on none more unexpectedly than -on those of the young delinquent herself, who had never been so -unequivocally disgraced before. She had trusted greatly to her mother's -partiality and her own acuteness in warding off reproof, and this took -her quite by surprise. She had not calculated the dangerous nature of -the ground she was treading on, nor the decision of her mother's -character when once roused, and so this edict came upon her like a clap -of thunder. She was constitutionally incapable of blushing, or of -looking confused, but she approached on this occasion more nearly to a -state of embarrassment than I had ever supposed she could; but -recovering herself in a moment, she deliberately folded her napkin and -put it on the table, pushed back her chair, made a low courtesy, and -saying, "Bon soir, mesdames; bon soir, messieurs," retreated in good -order. - -Rather an awkward pause ensued upon her exit; but it was soon broken by -Mrs. Churchill's half laughing apology for her pertness, and Josephine -was too much delighted with her adversary's discomfiture to be long -silent. And she almost forgot to be spiteful to me, too, in the triumph -of her acknowledged conquest. Even the dreaded task of dressing and -preparing for the ball was accomplished without half of its accustomed -drawbacks. Grace wisely kept out of sight, and Frances was less -fluttering and timid than usual, so that at nine o'clock we all mustered -in the parlor with comparatively undisturbed tempers. - -I had left Esther still asleep when I came down. Felicie had undressed -her and put her back in bed without arousing her. "You'd hardly let me -go so quietly if you were awake, I think," I said to myself, as I bent -down to kiss her. - -I found myself much more excited than I meant to be, as the carriage -drew near the Academy of Music. My excitement, however, had time enough -to cool, for carriages choked the streets on every hand, and it was the -work of half an hour to effect an entrance. The steps were crowded, the -lobbies were crowded, the cloak-room was a hopeless crush, but the full -sense of bewilderment did not overcome me, till following the captain -and Mrs. Churchill, we ascended another pair of stairs, and passing -through a side door, stood looking down upon the magnificent scene -below. The captain said he had never seen anything finer in this -country, so I felt at liberty to be enchanted with it. The decorations -and lights were brilliant, the music delightful, and the sight of so -many thousands of gaily-dressed people crowding the boxes, the passages, -the floor, could not fail to excite the enthusiasm of one so new to such -scenes as I was. To Josephine, on the other hand, the ball seemed by no -means a wholly rapturous affair. A ruthless foot had trodden on her -dress, and torn the lowest flounce; Phil was out of humor, and refused -to be devoted; the captain had his hands full with mamma, and Josephine -searched in vain among the crowd for the one or ones she wanted. We were -in a private box, and too far from the floor to recognize the dancers -easily, and by some neglect, the opera-glasses had been left in the -carriage. Josephine was unspeakably annoyed. They might as well be -looking out of the third-story window at home, she declared. For me, the -scene was enough for the present, without any nearer interest in it. If -I could have been further forward, it would have been pleasure enough to -me to have looked on, but my aunt and cousin occupying the front of the -box, left me no view of the house, but over their heads. - -By and by, however, the door of the box opened, and Mr. Rutledge -entered. He had exchanged a few words with me before Josephine saw him; -her face lighted up instantly, and after a cordial welcome from mamma, a -place was made for him in front. This, however, he declined to occupy, -as the captain had been on the ground before him, and was better -entitled to the position. He had an opera-glass, which he handed to -Josephine, and good humor was partially restored. The captain availed -himself of the front seat, and criticised the dancers for madame's -benefit; Phil stood behind his cousin's chair, and Mr. Rutledge was left -to me. I knew this arrangement did not suit; I knew my aunt was hearing -very little of the captain's commentary; I knew that Josephine, but for -Phil's jealous watchfulness, would have paid much more heed to Mr. -Rutledge's low conversation with me, than to her desired opera-glass. I -remembered, but too vividly, the conversation at dinner; and though I -struggled hard with my pride and my timidity, the words died on my lips, -my answers were hesitating and reserved, and for the most part, -insincere; I said the very things that, the next moment, I would have -given worlds to have unsaid; I felt that every word was estranging us -more hopelessly, and yet there seemed a spell upon us--I could not be -myself. The questions I had meant to ask him, if I should ever have a -chance, the sentences of which I had said to myself a hundred times, I -could now no more have uttered than if they had been in an unknown -tongue. - -When he spoke of Rutledge, the blood that always flashed into my face at -the name, now rushed to my heart, and left me paler and more listless -than before. If my manner wore any change while he talked of his return -there in a few days, and of my friends, Kitty and Stephen, Madge and -Tigre, it was an increased indifference and coldness. I said no more -than "yes" when he asked me if I still remembered them with interest, -and "I don't know exactly," when he asked what message he should take to -them from me. Then he changed the subject, and with his accustomed way -of reading my face while he talked, he asked me about my impressions of -society. Which was most to my taste now, city or country? - -"I don't know exactly," I said, hesitatingly. - -"I think I know," he said, with a laugh that nettled me, low and -pleasant as it was. "I think there is small doubt about your -preferences just now. You acknowledge my wisdom at last, do you not? You -see it was best for you to come to the city?" - -"Yes," I said, lifting my eyes for a moment. "You were very right. I -ought to thank you very much for your advice." - -"My dear," said my aunt, leaning toward us, "you cannot see at all -there. You must take my place for a little while, I insist upon it." - -The captain rose with great _empressement_, and insisted upon my -accepting his seat, and in the midst of the confusion consequent upon -this change, the door of the box opened again, and Mr. Viennet entered. -Mr. Rutledge was placing a chair for me as I looked up and recognized -the new comer. The chilled and frightened blood that had crept -fluttering round my heart, at this moment rushed into my face, and -burned guiltily in my cheeks, as I caught Mr. Rutledge's eye. Mr. -Viennet, after a moment devoted to salutation, inquiry and compliment, -entered a protest against our remaining any longer in such a detestable -corner, pronouncing it _de_testable, in his charming little French way. -No one could get at us; he had only found us by the merest chance. We -must come downstairs--everybody was on the floor--everybody was dancing. -He assured madame it was perfectly _convenable;_ it was spoiling the -pleasure of too many to hide ourselves any longer. - -This met Josephine's views exactly, and she importuned "mamma" very -prettily to yield. "Mamma" looked doubtingly for a moment at Mr. -Rutledge, who responded to the look by saying that he really thought her -strict ideas of propriety might allow this liberty without suffering any -outrage. It was something new for New York, but these balls had taken -very well, and the best people attended them, not only as spectators, -but as participators. As for dancing, he said, with a slight shrug, he -rather wondered at any lady's liking such an exhibition; but a -promenade on the floor for half an hour or so, he really should think -we would find more entertaining than remaining in our box. - -This partly settled the wavering in Mrs. Churchill's mind, and with a -dainty sort of reluctance, she gave her consent to our going on the -floor for a little while. - -"Cheek by jowl with Tom, Dick and Harry," muttered Phil, giving his arm -to Josephine, who took it with but indifferent grace, and bit her lip in -annoyance, as, standing nearest the door, Mr. Rutledge and Mr. Viennet -at the same moment offered me an arm. Can any girl understand the -impulse that made me accept Mr. Viennet's? No man possibly can; my only -hope of comprehension is from my own incomprehensible, perverse, -self-torturing sex. - -Once on the floor, it was hardly to be expected that we could obey my -aunt's injunction to keep together, and within sight of her. In five -minutes her ermine and diamonds, and the captain's moustache and -epaulettes, were, though very dear, of course, to memory, utterly lost -to sight, and Paul and Virginia were not more romantically alone than -were we, in that vast human wilderness. It was a very amusing and nice -thing to be lost. For half an hour we searched for our party, though -not, it must be confessed, as if our whole happiness in life depended on -our success, but no trace of them could be discovered. - -"We must amuse ourselves _alors_, mademoiselle, and let them look for -us," said my companion. "Was there ever such a waltz before? You cannot -resist it any longer, I know you cannot." - -Perhaps I might have resisted it, as well as his eloquent pleading, if, -raising my eyes at this moment to the boxes we had occupied, I had not -caught sight of Josephine and Mr. Rutledge, who had returned there, -evidently much more interested in each other than in anything below -them. - -"I'll dance once," I said, and in a moment his arm was on my waist, and -we were floating along the elastic floor to such music as the fairies -dance to, on soft summer nights, with the blue vault of heaven above -their heads, and the green sward beneath their feet, and all wild -ecstatic and untamed rapture thrilling in their elfin bosoms. - -Conscience was drugged that night; self-will and pride, self-appointed -regents, were holding sway as only usurpers can; and the glowing hours -fled away without record or remorse. - -"_N'importe_," murmured my companion, when I suggested a doubt, and -_n'importe_ I allowed it to be, as, whirling giddily from end to end of -the vast area, or sauntering slowly through the gradually lessening -crowd, we let the minutes slip away into hours. It was rather a -startling recall to stern reality, when, at one end of the hall, -suddenly encountering Phil, he laid a heavy hand on my partner's arm, -exclaiming: - -"Victor, my boy, if you've any mercy on that unlucky girl, come this -way. There is such a scolding in store for her as she never had before. -The carriage has been waiting an hour, and the captain and I, being -detailed for the detective service, have pursued you faithfully, but you -have eluded us most skillfully, I'll do you the justice to say! And Mr. -Rutledge and the ladies have watched you from upstairs, and said--well, -we won't say what pretty things." - -"Extraordinary!" exclaimed Victor. "Why, _we_ have been hunting for -_you_ till we were entirely discouraged, disheartened, in despair!" - -"Ah, well!" exclaimed Phil, with a laugh, leading the way. "I only hope -you'll be able to make Mrs. Churchill believe it. It's my duty to -prepare you for the worst, however." - -"And our duty to be brave," said my comrade. "And fortune favors such, -they tell us, mademoiselle." - -Certainly I could not feel otherwise than grateful to my protector for -his ingenious and powerful defence, as we appeared before the offended -group at the door of the cloakroom. Though my aunt received it -politely, I well knew the wrath that her knit brow portended, and -Josephine's look of contempt was unmistakable. Mr. Rutledge had his -visor down; no earthly intelligence could discover anything of his -emotions through that impassive exterior. Even the captain was -irritated; Phil was neutral, but Victor was my only friend. - -"Good night," he whispered, as he put me into the carriage. "We'll -finish that redowa at Mrs. Humphrey's to-morrow night." - -I wished, with all my heart, it was to-morrow night, and all that I -foresaw must intervene, safely past. The scolding was not to come before -morning, I saw at once, and when my aunt, on our arrival at home, -dismissed me to my room, it was with a cold, "I wish to have a few -minutes' conversation with you after breakfast to-morrow." - -With that dread before me--with a guilty sense of wrong-doing, and a -bitter sense of shame, a humbled condemnation of myself, and an angry -resentment toward others, the restless hours of that night offered -anything but repose, anything but pleasant retrospect or anticipation. - - - * * * * * - -CHAPTER XXII. - - - "And if some tones be false or low, - What are all prayers beneath - But cries of babes, that cannot know - Half the deep thought they breathe?" - -KEBLE. - - -Mrs. Churchill understood, if ever any did, the art of reprimand. -Without the least appearance of agitation herself, with a perfectly -unmoved and stony composure, she managed to overawe and disarm the -prisoner at the bar, whatever might be his or her offence, or shade or -degree of guilt. Defence died on my lips at the dreaded interview, and I -bore my sentence in silence, which was, a total seclusion from society -after to-night--a return to the oblivion of the nursery and study. This -ball at Mrs. Humphrey's was to be my last appearance in public till I -should have learned how to behave myself. As I had accepted, it was -proper I should go to-night, otherwise she would no means have allowed -it. - -"_Nous verrons_," I said to myself, as I went upstairs. "If I continue -to want to go to parties, no doubt she will have to let me go. I am a -fraction too old to be put in a dark closet, or sent to bed for being -naughty, and Aunt Edith knows it." - -That Wednesday was a very busy day to Mrs. Churchill and Josephine. A -wedding reception took up the morning, from which they returned but to -dress for a dinner at the Wynkars, and thence returning, made a hurried -toilette for the ball. It seemed making rather a toil of pleasure, if -one might judge from my aunt's haggard looks, and Josephine's impatient -complaints. - -There was an anxious contraction on Mrs. Churchill's brow as she came -down from the nursery after breakfast, and apparently a struggle in her -mind between home duties and social duties, when it became necessary for -her to decide about going out. That she sincerely believed in the -stringent nature of both, no one could doubt who watched her closely. It -was not pleasure that took her away from little Essie that morning; it -was a mistaken sense of duty. She had set up for her worship an idol, in -whose hard service she had unconsciously come to sacrifice time, ease, -and affection, as stoically as many have suffered in a cause whose -reward is not altogether seen and ended in this world. - -So it was, that, trying to make up for her absence by many injunctions -and cautions to those left in charge, she turned her back upon the child -for the greater part of the day. - -"I hoped," said she, as she paused at the nursery door, in her rustling -silk and heavy India shawl, "I hoped that the doctor would have come -before I went out, but I really do not see but what you can do as well -as I can, Felicie. Pay particular attention to his directions, and send -John out immediately for any prescription he may leave for her. And be -sure you tell him just how she was yesterday, and how well she slept -last night. I don't like," she continued, taking off one glove to feel -again of the child's hot forehead, "her having fever again this morning. -I thought yesterday she was so much better." - -"Oh, madam is too anxious. It is nothing but a little excitement that -has brought it on again," said the nurse. "If madam would tell -Mademoiselle Esther how very naughty it is for her to cry to go into her -cousin's room, and fret and strike me when I try to keep her quiet, -perhaps she might mind better. It is that that brings her fever on, -madam, I am afraid." - -"Now, Esther," said her mother, with authority, "I shall have to punish -you if you do so any more. I shall be very angry if you do not mind -Felicie to-day, and if you hurt or strike her, remember I shall punish -you when I come back--do you hear?" - -Esther heard, yes. She sat bolt upright in her little bed, and looked at -the speaker with her parched lips parted, and a strange, bewildered -expression in her eyes, and a restless movement of her tiny hands. -Before the interview was over, however, the startled look had settled -into a vacant, listless stare; and a peevish moan, after her mother left -the room, was all the evidence she gave of being impressed or alarmed by -the injunctions laid upon her. I heard the miserable little complainer -unmoved as long as I could; after a while, putting down my book, I went -into the nursery. She stretched out her arms, and cried: - -"Take me to your room." - -"If you will stop crying," I said, taking her up in my arms, and -wrapping her dressing-gown about her. - -Felicie looked up quickly, and said, "_Madame a dit que non._" - -Felicie always lied in her native tongue, and this was but an additional -proof to me that madame had said no such thing, and I told her so, -rather strongly. Grace came in just then, and Felicie appealed to her -for confirmation. - -"Certainly," said Grace, promptly, "mamma's last charge was that Esther -should not go out of the nursery; so, missy, you may just make yourself -easy where you are. Don't suppose everybody is going to spoil you like -your precious cousin there." - -Essie still clung tightly round my neck; much, however, as my pride -rebelled, there was no way but to submit to the orders they promulged. -So, carrying her back to the bed, and loosening her arms from my neck, I -put her down with, - -"No matter, sweetheart; if Mahomet brings his work, and sits down by -the mountain, that will do as well, will it not?" - -"I don't know what you mean," said the child, uneasily. - -"She means to plague you, Esther; she's been scolded this morning, and -she's in bad humor," said Grace. - -"Don't throw stones, Miss Grace," I retorted. "I wasn't sent away from -the table, if I was scolded." - -"Mamma'll never forget your performance last night, the longest day she -lives," continued Grace. "I never saw her half so angry before. In fact, -from all accounts, you must have got it from all quarters, but what Mr. -Rutledge said was the worst." - -"What did he say, pray?" - -"_Wouldn't_ you like to know!" she cried, in her teasing, school-girl -fashion. - -"I don't believe you could tell me, if I did." - -"I could if I wanted to," she exclaimed. "I heard mamma and Josephine -talking it over this morning. The door of the dressing-room was open a -crack, and I heard every word. Now, honey, _don't_ you wish I'd tell -you?" - -"I don't want to hear half as much as you want to tell me," I returned, -trying to be unmoved. - -"Oh! don't be uneasy on my account," she said. "I haven't the least idea -of telling you. Only, I didn't suppose Mr. Rutledge could be so severe, -and on 'his little friend,' too!" - -"That--for Mr. Rutledge!" I exclaimed, with a disdainful snap of my -fingers. "I don't care the fraction of a pin for his opinion!" - -"I'll tell him," cried Grace, with delighted eyes. - -"Do," I answered; and hiding my burning face on the pillow with Esther, -I said: - -"What shall we do to amuse ourselves this morning, Essie? Shall I tell -you a story?" - -"Yes," said Esther, looking pleased. - -"Ask her to tell you about the ball last night, and Mr. Victor Viennet," -said Grace, as she went out of the door. - -"No," said the little girl, "I'd rather have her tell me about the -little dog Tigre at Rutledge, and how he used to stand outside of her -door, and whine to come in. Won't you now?" - -"Oh, that's tiresome, Essie," I said, "I'll tell you something else." - -"Then tell me about the boys that stole the chestnuts, and about the -lake, and the great trees, and the artemisias and the grapevines in the -garden. Tell me, won't you now?" she went on, coaxingly. - -"You'd rather hear a fairy story, Esther," I said; "or something out of -your pretty Christmas book, I am sure." - -"No," said Esther, "I want to hear about the country, I wish they'd take -me to the country," she continued, wearily; then, raising herself on her -elbow, and looking at me earnestly, she said, "do you believe they ever -will? Do you believe I'll be made to always stay in this nursery, -without any flowers or birds, or anything I like? If I should die in it, -would I stay in it always, or would they take me out? Tell me, would -they?" - -"Of course, Essie," I said, half impatiently, uncomfortable under her -earnest eyes. "I do not like to hear you talk so. You know, I've told -you often, that there's a home for us where we shall go after we die, -better than any home here, where good children are, and holy men and -women; and it's all a great deal brighter and happier than anything we -can imagine; so don't trouble yourself to think about it; only be good." - -"But I am not good," she said, with a sort of agony in her voice; "you -know I am not." - -"Essie," I said, soothingly, drawing her toward me, "nobody is good. I -am not, and you are not, and nobody is; but if we are sorry when we're -wrong, and ask God to forgive us, and help us, He will, you may be sure. -Why, Essie, He loves you, little foolish girl as you are, more than you -can possibly tell. He loves you, and he would not let you perish for -anything." - -"Are you sure of that?" she said, eagerly. - -"Perfectly sure," I answered. - -"Madame ordered," said Felicie, "that Miss Esther should be kept -perfectly quiet. She's talking too much, and exciting herself. It would -be better to have the room darkened, and let her go to sleep." - -"I can't go to sleep, and she shan't go away," exclaimed the child. - -"I haven't the least idea of going, Essie; so lie down, and I'll tell -you about the country." - -And, till my own heart ached as hers did, in its narrow city bounds, I -told her of the country, and how soon the first warm spring days would -loose the ice-bound brooks, and let the pines see themselves once more -in the lake. And in the lots, the violets would be springing up thickly -in the moist sod, and the faint green would be coloring the meadows and -lawns, and the skies would be soft and blue, and the slow, warm wind -would waft along the fleecy clouds, and stir the budding trees, and -linger over the soft, wet earth, and creep into cold and wintry houses, -and into cold and wintry hearts, and stir all things with a sense of -warmth and ecstasy. - -Throughout the day I hardly left my little cousin; she was feverish and -restless, and never closed her eyes or rested a moment. About four -o'clock, however, I went down to practise for an hour, and when I came -upstairs again, she had fallen asleep. Her mother, coming up at the same -time, was much relieved to find her sleeping, and Felicie gave a very -satisfactory account of her; so that she dressed for the dinner in -comparative comfort. The doctor's visit had occurred while I was -downstairs, and had been a very hurried one. Grace and I dined alone, -very sociably and cheerfully, Grace reading a French novel, and I "the -Newcomes," in all the pauses of the meal. - -I went upstairs as soon as it was over, and found Esther still asleep. -It was a wet, miserable evening. The rain was dripping slowly and -heavily from the roof to the window-sill, and from the window-sill to -the piazza below. A thick, suffocating fog, possessed the earth, through -which the distant lights blinked drearily; even the noises of the -streets sounded muffled and subdued. It was so warm, that the low -soft-coal fire in the grate seemed oppressive; yet, when I opened the -window, there was a damp, choking heaviness in the air that was worse, -even, than the dry heat of the room. It seemed as if the spirit of the -fog was sitting a night-mare on my breast, and pressing down with a hand -like lead the beating of my heart, and stopping my very breath. There -was no shaking off the weight, nor driving away the gloomy fancies that -the hour bred. It was in vain that I lit the gas, and closed the blinds, -and laying my ball-dress on the bed, tried to interest myself in my -preparations for the evening. Between me and all pleasant anticipation, -there hung a black pall of presentiment, and no effort of my will could -put it aside. The very struggle to free myself from it, seemed to make -the gloom close thicker around me. The house was so still; the servants -were all downstairs; the ticking of the clock on the nursery mantelpiece -was all the sound that broke the stillness, and that, so regular, so -monotonous, was worse than silence. It was a time - -"For thought to do her part," - -for conscience and reason to be heard. Should I go into the world and -try to forget it? Should I leave the little helpless child asleep there, -in charge of a woman I distrusted and disliked, and go where music and -pleasure would drown the dread for her that was gnawing at my heart? -What, that was good for hours of trial, had I learned in my short -experience of pleasure? What, that I could remember with satisfaction, -had occurred in the two nights of gaiety that I had just passed through? -What, in the flatteries of Victor Viennet, in the admiring eyes of -strangers, in the envy of my cousin, that I could dare to remember in -church--on Sunday--under a quiet evening sky--or on a fresh, pure early -summer morning? Alas! it was out of tune with all of these; there was -utterly a fault about it--it turned to ashes as I grasped it. It was not -true pleasure. It was not a worthy pursuit. As far as I had followed it -already, it had led me into sin, into pride, insincerity and anger. It -had done me no good. I felt that. Had I the courage to put it away from -me now? Could I say, without an effort, I will keep myself out of the -way of seeing Victor Viennet again? I will never remember but to condemn -the hours that I have spent with him? Could I return to the dull routine -I had formerly marked out for myself, without an effort that would cost -me many tears? But if I could not do this, what was my religion worth? -If this self-denial was so hard, did it not prove that the world had got -a very tight hold of my heart, and that the sooner I wrenched myself -from its grasp the better? - -On the other hand, there was no definite reason why I should not go, -there was only this vague feeling of uneasiness about Essie that -tormented me and kept me back, and this unsettled question about the -profitableness of going into the world. How should I decide? My -affection for my little cousin tugged strongly at my heart. Pride and -inclination pulled as fiercely the other way. A feeling that I did not -give a name to, but which was stronger than either, prompted me to -follow my own desires, and leave Essie to her fate. What business was it -of mine? If other people neglected their children, and left their -duties for their pleasures, why need I concern myself? Why need I take -upon myself their discarded responsibilities? - -At last I stole on tiptoe to the bed again, to see if she still slept. -Not much sleep in those frightened eyes. - -"Why! Essie, my pet, when did you wake up?" - -With a sigh of relief, and a little relaxing of the look of terror, she -raised herself up, and saying hurriedly, "how still it is! I thought you -had gone away," she twined both small hands tightly round my wrist. - -"Oh, no!" I said, sitting down by her, "it isn't time yet. I shall not -go for an hour or two." - -"Don't go at all, please don't go," whispered the child, panting for -breath, and clinging to me in an agony. "If you knew how awful it was to -be alone, and how still the room was, you wouldn't leave me, indeed you -wouldn't. Besides," she went on hurriedly, "how can you tell what'll -become of me while you're gone? Nobody else loves me, nobody else is -good to me. I am troublesome and wicked--only God and you care anything -about me." - -It was useless to soothe or reason with her now. I knew little of -illness, but I saw in a moment that the wild delirium of fever was -burning in my little companion's veins, and raging in her brain. I was -frightened at the strength of the little hands that fastened themselves -on mine, and the hurry and wildness of the broken sentences she uttered. -All I could do, was to promise that I would not go, and assure her that -there were no "ugly shadows" on the wall--that nobody was coming to take -her away--that it was all because her head ached so. But when Felicie -appeared, it was a less easy matter to control her. She screamed, and -hid her face, and cried to me to send her away--she hated her--she gave -her horrid stuff--she made her angry, and a thousand other vehement -exclamations in alternate French and English. The nurse, with a subdued -glare of anger in her eyes, would fain have soothed her, for her voice, -shrill with the strength of fever, could easily have been heard -downstairs, and Mrs. Churchill had come home and was now in her -dressing-room. My alarm had overcome my pride by this time, and loosing -my hands from the child's grasp, I gave her into Felicie's charge, and -ran downstairs. - -The door of the dressing-room was locked, and it was some minutes before -I was admitted, and during those minutes, my alarm had time to cool, and -when at last I entered the room, it was with a full recollection of the -last rebuff I had received when I pleaded Esther's cause, and a cold -determination to do my duty and no more. - -"Why are you not dressed, if you intend accompanying us?" she said. - -"I do not intend going this evening," I answered; "and I came, Aunt -Edith, to say that I think you had better see Esther before you go out; -she has a great deal of fever, and is very much excited." - -I never before had realized how dangerous a thing it was to touch with -even the daintiest hand, the festering wound that both pride and remorse -conspire to hide from the sight even of the sufferer's self. I could not -have done anything worse for poor Essie's cause, than just what I did -do, and she shared with me in the feeling of vexation and resentment -that my words awakened in her mother's breast. - -I soon forgot the severity of the rebuff I had received, however, when -coming into the nursery, I took the struggling child from Felicie, and -watched with anxiety the gradual subsiding of the fit of passion that -had convulsed her. From whatever cause it might be, she was evidently -growing quieter, and in less than half an hour, the little head on my -arm had relaxed its tossings, and sunk into repose, while a dreamy -languor dulled the wildness of her eyes, and save when the slightest -movement woke an alarm that I would leave her, she lay quite -motionless. - -"She is better now," said Felicie, in a low tone, who was watching her -with her basilisk eyes as she lay apparently sleeping. A nervous -tightening of the slight fingers on my wrist at the sound of her voice, -showed me that it was only apparently. - -When Mrs. Churchill had completed her toilette, she came upstairs. -Esther, with her long eyelashes sweeping her crimsoned cheeks, lay so -quiet that there seemed some reason in her mother's cutting rebuke for -the unnecessary alarm I had given her. I began to feel heartily ashamed -of it myself, and wondered that I had been so easily frightened. -Felicie, with a wicked look of exultation, said, that if Miss Esther -hadn't been in a passion, she wouldn't have brought the fever on again. -She had been better all day, the doctor had said she had scarcely any -fever, when he was here. - -Mrs. Churchill hoped, with a withering look, that I would get used to -ill temper in time, and not think it necessary to disturb the household -whenever Esther had a fit of crying. Then feeling the child's pulse, and -giving many and minute directions for the care of her during the night, -she went away. As, a moment after, the hall door closed with a heavy -sound, a momentary tremor passed over the child's frame, and opening her -eyes, a strange light fluttered for an instant in them, as she murmured, -"you will not go away?" then closed them again, and she seemed to sleep. -I watched beside her for an hour; then releasing myself from her -unresisting hands, and kissing her lightly, I went into my own room. - -I returned several times to look at her again, before I put the light -out and lay down to sleep. How many times the monotonous nursery-clock -struck the half hour before I slept, I cannot tell; the heavy air was -broken by no other sound; there was nothing in the silent house, -shrouded by the close fog without and the dead silence within, to keep -me awake, yet it was long before I slept. But sleep, when it came, was -heavy and dreamless--a sort of dull stifling of consciousness, in -keeping with the night. - -Hours of this sleep had passed over me, when a fierce grasp upon my arm, -and a hissing voice in my ear, woke me with a terrified start, and -chilled me with horror, as struggling to collect my senses, I tried to -comprehend Felicie's frantic words. In a moment, they made their way to -my brain, and burned themselves there. - -"I've given her too much--I cannot wake her! O mon Dieu! _Je l'ai tuee! -Je l'ai tuee!_" - -A horrible sickening faintness for an instant rushed over me, then a -keen sense of agony like an electric flash thrilled through me, and -without a look, a thought, a word, I was kneeling at the little bed in -the nursery. But, as my eager eyes searched the whitened face on the -pillow there, and as my aching ears listened for the almost inaudible -breathing, and my hand touched the cold arms that lay outside the -covers, such a cry burst from my lips as might have waked the dead, if -dead were indeed before me. But there was no voice nor answer; there was -an awful stillness when I listened for response; when I raised my eyes -in wild appeal from the white face of the child, there was but a -horrible face above me, whereon was all the pallor of death, without its -calm repose; such a face as the lost and damned may wear when their -sentence is new in their ears--when endless perdition is but just begun, -and life and hope but just cut off. - -Another moment, and all the house was roused. Putting back, with one -strong effort, the agony and hopelessness that welled up from my heart, -I mastered myself enough to direct the terrified and helpless servants. -Dispatching different ones to the nearest doctors I could think of, -another for my aunt, another for all the restoratives that occurred to -me, the next few minutes of suspense passed. - -But before the doctor could arrive, I knew there was no need of his -coming. There had been a little flutter of the drooping eyelid, ever so -slight a quiver of the parted lip, and bending down, I had listened, -with agonized suspense, for the low breathing, and called her name with -the tenderness that never finds perfect expression till death warns us -it shall be the last. Then a little arm crept round my neck, the soft -eye opened for a moment, a sigh stirred the bosom that my forehead -touched, and, as the arm relaxed its faint clasp, I knew that Essie was -a stranger and an alien no longer, but was where it were better for us -all to be--where there is peace, eternal, unbroken, beyond the reach of -sin forever. - -For those first moments, when I knelt alone beside the little bed, with -the soft arm still round my neck, and the breath of that sigh still on -the air, there was no feeling that I had suffered a bereavement, that -death and sorrow had entered the house; but holy thoughts of God and -heaven--strange longings for the rest that she had entered into--a sort -of hushed and hallowed awe, as if the new angel still lingered, with a -half regret at leaving me alone--as if the parting, if parting there -were to be, were but for a "little while"--as if the communion of saints -were so divine and comfortable a thing, that there was no need for tears -and sorrow. - -But when there came a sudden tumult below, hurried steps upon the -stairs, a sound beside me, a pause, and then a cry that made my blood -freeze in my veins, I knew that there was more than joy in heaven--that -there was bitter agony on earth: that there was more than an angel won -above--that there was a child dead below--a household in mourning--a -mother's heart writhing in torture--a judgment fallen--a punishment -following close upon a sin--a remorse begun that no time could heal, -that no other life could quench, no other love allay. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. - - - "Back, then, complainer; loathe thy life no more, - Nor deem thyself upon a desert shore, - Because the rocks thy nearer prospect close." - -KEBLE. - - -Felicie had fled. When, in the agonized confusion of that dreadful -night, she was at last remembered and searched for, there was no trace -of her to be found, and all future inquiry was equally unavailing. The -wretched woman need not have concealed herself with such desperate fear; -no one felt any heart to search her out, or revenge on her the death of -her little charge. No one of that sad household but knew, in their -hearts, that there was a sin at more than her door--a sin that lay heavy -in proportion to its unnaturalness and strangeness. - -Those were wretched nights and days that followed little Esther's death. -The vehement grief that, in the first hours of amazement and remorse, -had burst from the miserable mother, was succeeded by a calm more -unnatural and more alarming. My heart ached for the misery that showed -itself but too plainly in her haggard face and restless eyes; but, -shutting herself up in her cold and speechless wretchedness, from all -sympathy, I longed, but did not dare, to offer any. And I, perhaps more -than any other, involuntarily recalled the phantom she was trying to -fly, the remorse that she was struggling to subdue. Though her -self-control, even then, was almost perfect, I could see that she never -looked at me unmoved--that she winced at any attention from me, as if a -newly bleeding wound had been roughly handled, and shrunk more than ever -into herself. She refused all visitors, even the most intimate. -Josephine was the only one of the family whose presence did not seem to -pain her, and at times even she was sent away. She was too strong and -proud a woman not to bear her sorrow, as she bore all other emotions, -alone. Not even Josephine saw any further into her heart than strangers -did. - -With the resumption of the ordinary household ways, came the cold -insincerity that custom sanctions, of banishing from familiar mention -the name that, a month ago, had been a household word, now recurring -hourly to the lips, but hourly to be hushed and sent back to deal -another pang to the aching heart. No more allusion was made to Essie -than if, a few short weeks ago, she had not been one of this small -circle, the youngest, and "the child," who, welcome or unwelcome, had -necessarily, and by virtue of her position, claimed some part of the -time and notice of those around her. - -It was impossible to define how much of the subdued apathy of Grace's -manner was owing to the grief she felt at her sister's loss, and how -much to a sort of cowardly nervousness and shrinking from the idea of -death. For days after the shock, she was like my shadow, dreading, -evidently more than anything else, to be left alone, shunning her mother -and everything that brought the hateful subject to her thoughts, trying, -with all ingenuity, to divert herself and think of other things. It was -useless to attempt to lead her higher, to make her see in her little -sister's death anything but dread and horror. She shrunk from all -mention of it with aversion, and turned eagerly to any diverting -subject, and before any other member of the family, she shook off the -depression it had caused. With Josephine it had been different. At first -she was awe-struck and stunned, and for a while there seemed a danger of -her falling into a morbid state of feeling; but as the freshness of the -shock wore away, her elasticity returned, and with it the old impatience -and imperiousness, that the absence of amusement and excitement only -heightened. - -A storm indeed had passed over our house, but a storm that had not -purified and cleared the atmosphere, only left it more close and sultry -than before; the black sky, indeed, had brightened again, leaving -comparative sunshine overhead, but threatening clouds still lingered -around the horizon, and distant rumbling still warned of danger. - -I missed more than I had fancied possible, my little companion and -pupil. No hour in the day but brought some fresh souvenir of the -tortured young life that had ended its penance so early, the shrinking -little soul that had been released so soon. It was not seldom, in those -dark days, that I thought, with something like envy, of the peace she -had inherited, and with something like repining of my lonely lot. How -many years of warfare might stretch between me and the end; how many -chances that I might fail or faint, grow weary, or yield to sin; while -the little child I had so long looked upon with pity, so long tried to -help and guide, now redeemed and safe, and everlastingly at peace, had -passed "the golden portals of the City of the Blest." Good angels had -pitied her, struggling and bewildered on her way, and lifting her in -their arms, had carried her home; floating through the blue ether, in a -moment of time she had passed the rough and weary road that would have -taken a lifetime to have traversed alone. But no angels, it seemed to -me, looked on my weary path; no sympathy, from heaven or of men, came to -help me as I pressed on alone. Parting and death, repentance and -self-accusation made that Lent a time of heartfelt sorrow; and before -Easter-week was over, the low fever that had been hanging about me since -the spring began, accomplished its errand, and laid me on a tedious bed -of sickness. - -Is there any one who has ever been sick "away from home," among -strangers, courteous and attentive, perhaps, but whose courtesy and -attention were of duty, not love, that cannot understand what it was to -be lying, day after day, in a "home" like mine, knowing it was the only -one I had a right to, or a hope of, this side heaven, and knowing, -through all the exaggerating excitement of fever, and the languid -hopelessness of slow convalescence, that in it there was no one to whom -the care of me was not a penance, that no hour was so grudged as that -spent by my bedside? Cold faces met me when I waked from my feverish, -troubled sleep, commonplace, unsympathetic voices fell upon my ear, -when, unnerved and childish, I longed for nothing so much as for a kind -word or a caressing touch. - -They were very attentive; I had every care; my recovery was as rapid as -the doctor wished; it had not been a very alarming illness; nobody was -particularly excited about it. They said it was a "light case," and I -could not be doing better. They had a right to know, certainly; but oh! -the weariness of that dark room, the length of those spring days, the -stillness of those warm nights, the loathing of those city sounds, the -longing for the country! - -June was now not many weeks off; and hour after hour, the question, -"would Mr. Rutledge remember his promise?" perplexed my brain. I knew I -had done enough to have forfeited it; I knew it had been made hastily; -that, indescribably and unaccountably, he was changed since then, and we -had ceased to be anything like friends. Still, I was nearly certain he -would keep his word; whatever else he might forget, he would not forget -that. No matter if it bored him, as I almost knew it would, I was sure -he would do it just the same. Though I had a thousand fears that I -should not be allowed to go, I knew I should be sent for, and I was not -disappointed. - -It was the first morning that I had breakfasted downstairs; I had been -well enough for a week, but a languor and indifference possessed me that -made me averse to all thought of change or exertion. Now, however, that -I was actually in the cool dining-room, where white curtains replaced -the heavy winter drapery of the windows, and white matting the thick -carpet, I wondered that I had not made the effort before. It was vastly -more attractive than my own room, certainly; and the parlors, as I -glanced into them, looked in comparison, almost imposing in their -vastness. The world, I saw, had been creeping in again. There were notes -and cards on the table, and a lovely basket of violets; the piano was -open, and some new music lay on it. Josephine, too, at breakfast, talked -of drives and engagements that showed the days of mourning were over. -There was little difference in my aunt's manner from formerly, but she -looked ten years older, and was somewhat colder and more precise. - -"Who on earth can that be from?" Grace exclaimed, as John brought in the -letters, and Mrs. Churchill took up the only one that did not look like -an invitation or a milliner's circular. "It's from out of town," she -continued, reaching out her hand for the envelope, as her mother laid it -down. "It's postmarked Rutledge! What can Mr. Rutledge have to say to -mamma? Joseph, doesn't your heart beat?" - -If Joseph's didn't, mine did, and so quickly, too, that I felt sick and -faint, and dreaded lest Grace's prying eyes should inquire the cause of -my alternating color. But the letter absorbed the attention of all, and -I could only wait till Mrs. Churchill should divulge its contents. -Josephine tried to look undisturbed, but there was an accent of -impatience in her tone, as she said: - -"Well, dear mamma, may I see it, if ever you should finish it? I suppose -there is nothing that I may not know about." - -"It is a very kind letter," said Mrs. Churchill, as she glanced back to -the beginning; "very kind, indeed, and you are all interested in it. Mr. -Rutledge says that he has been detained at his place several weeks -longer than he had anticipated, and there is now a prospect of his being -obliged to remain till possibly the middle of summer; in which event, -he thinks that we could not do a kinder thing than come and pay him a -visit. He describes the country as looking very delightfully, and -promises all sorts of rural amusements if we will come; and, by way of -insuring the enjoyment of the young ladies, he begs we will make up a -party to accompany us, and suggests the Wynkars, Mr. Reese, Captain -McGuffy, Phil, of course, and any one else we may choose to ask. He is -really very urgent, and begs we will not refuse to enliven the gloomy -old mansion with our presence for awhile. He puts it entirely into my -hands, and begs I will invite whom I choose." - -"Delightful!" exclaimed Josephine. "Mamma, could anything be nicer?" - -"Mr. Rutledge is 'a gentleman and a scholar,'" said Grace; "he ought to -be encouraged. You'll accept, of course?" - -"_Cela depend_," said her mother, thoughtfully. - -"Oh, mamma!" cried Josephine, "you cannot dream of refusing. What -possible objection can there be? We do not want to go to Newport before -the middle of July, and of course we can't stay in town all through -June. This is the very thing; and you know I'd rather go to Rutledge -than any other place in the world. Surely, mamma, you cannot think of -refusing." - -"There are a great many things to be considered, my dear." - -"Ah," cried Grace, with unusual animation, "there'll be no peace till -you say, yes. I long to get out of this dusty city. What else does he -say, mamma?" - -"Not much," answered her mother, glancing down the second page. "He says -he only heard a few days ago of my niece's illness, which he hopes will -not prove serious, and that a change of air, and return to the scene of -her last year's convalescence will be of benefit to her." - -"How do you imagine he heard she had been sick?" asked Grace. - -"I haven't the least idea, I am sure," said Josephine. "It's of no great -consequence, any way. But, mamma, who shall we ask? The captain, of -course, and Phil, and, I suppose, the Wynkars; Ella will be delighted, -no doubt, and think it's all on her account! And about Mr. Reese--he's -such a tiresome old fogie, let's get somebody in his place." - -"Ask Victor Viennet," said Grace, "just to spite Ella Wynkar. You know -she hates him. He's as nice as anybody." - -"I haven't quite made up my mind," said Josephine, with dignity. - -"Wait till I have made up mine," said her mother, quietly. - -So this was the way which Mr. Rutledge had found to keep his promise to -me, and gratify his own wishes at the same time. It took away all the -pleasure of my anticipations, however, to have it fulfilled in this way. -It seemed to me a sort of desecration of the grand, quiet stateliness of -the old place to have all these gay people invading it. I could hardly -fancy it full of careless, noisy, chattering guests, resounding with the -captain's loud laugh, and Ella Wynkar's unmeaning cackle. What would -Mrs. Roberts say? How would Kitty like it? - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. - - - "In all his humors, whether grave or mellow, - He's such a testy, touchy, pleasant fellow, - Has so much mirth, and wit, and spleen about him, - There is no living with him, or without him." - - -"The next station will be Rutledge," said Phil, leaning back to announce -the fact to the detachment of our party in the rear. - -"I am not sorry to hear it, for one," said Ella Wynkar, with a yawn. -"Josephine, chere, are you not tired to death?" - -But Josephine, chere, was too busy with collecting books, shawls, and -bags, and loading the captain therewith, in anticipation of our arrival -at the station, to vouchsafe an answer. - -"Travelling all day is rather exhausting," said Phil, looking at his -watch. "It's half-past six--a little behind time, but it won't hurt Mr. -Rutledge to wait for us awhile. Ah! there's the whistle. We shall be at -the station in another minute. Now, Aunt Edith, if you and Miss Wynkar -will trust yourselves to me, I think the rest are provided for. Victor! -what are you about? Don't you see we're here, man?" - -Victor started up, and taking my parasol and shawl, offered me his arm -as the train stopped, and the conductor, bursting open the car door, -shouted "Rutledge!" as if we were to escape for our lives. - -I heard Mr. Rutledge's voice before I saw him. We were the last of the -party, and there being a little crowd at the car-door, we were obliged -to stand for a moment inside, while the others stepped on the platform. -It was a lovely June evening; the air was fresh and soft, and the sunset -had left a rich glow on the sky, and lighted up with new verdure the -green earth. It was so delicious to be out of the city; it was so -bewildering to feel I was at Rutledge again. And with a beating heart, I -followed my escort, as he forced a way for me through the crowd, and -stepped down on the platform. - -Mr. Rutledge was waiting to receive us. I was not quite self-possessed -enough myself to be certain that I saw a slight change in his manner as -he recognized my companion; if it did occur, however, it was overcome as -quickly, and he welcomed Mr. Viennet courteously. With a few words of -welcome and congratulation upon my recovery, he led the way toward the -carriage. My aunt and Miss Wynkar were already in it. Josephine and -Captain McGuffy were established in a light wagon by themselves, while -the open carriage and the bays stood as yet unappropriated. - -"I think, Mrs. Churchill," said Mr. Rutledge, standing at the open door -of the carriage, "that perhaps you had better make a place for this -young lady inside. She is not very strong as yet, I fancy, and the -evening air"---- - -"Oh! pray," I exclaimed, shrinking back, "let me go in the open -carriage. I hate a close carriage--it always makes my head ache." - -"There's not the least dampness in the air to-night," urged Mr. Viennet, -and meeting with no further opposition, I turned to the open carriage, -and at a whispered suggestion from him, mounted up upon the front seat. -He sprang up beside me, and taking the reins from Michael, who, bowing -delightedly, had been saying, "Welcome back, Miss," ever since the train -stopped, we only waited for Grace and Ellerton Wynkar to get in, before -we started off at a round pace, leaving the carriage and the captain, -and Mr. Rutledge, who was on horseback, far behind. - -It was a lovely evening. The fields and woods were in their freshest -green; everything, from the grass by the roadside to the waving forest -trees, looked as they never can look after June. The dust of summer, and -its parching heat, had not yet soiled and shrivelled the smallest leaf -or blade; but fresh from the warm spring rains, and the pleasant spring -sunshine, they budded and shone as if there were no such thing as -scorching summer heats, and choking dust, and parching thirst, to come. -The sky--fit sky to bend over such an earth--was of the clearest blue, -and the few clouds that hung around the setting sun were light and -fleecy, tinged with rose and tipped with gold. The soft breeze, coming -out of the west over fields of clover and acacias in bloom, and lilac -hedges, and cottage gardens full of early flowers, and cottage porches -covered with blowing roses and climbing honeysuckles, steeped the -listening senses with a sort of silent ecstasy, that made commonplace -conversation a profanation of the hour. Why _would_ Grace and her -companion keep up such a constant chattering. It was unbearable; and -when Ellerton, leaning forward, offered Victor his cigar-case, the -latter, with a quick gesture of impatience, exclaimed: - -"Ah! _merci_, not to-night. It's too nice an evening, my good friend, to -be spoiled with such perfumes. The young ladies like roses better than -cigars, I fancy." - -And Ellerton, who reverenced Victor as a high authority on all social -questions, quietly put away his cigar-case, and said no more about it. - -It was a long drive from the station to the house, and our hopes of -being the first of the party to arrive, were dashed by the occurrence of -a little accident just as we entered the village. The off horse, shying -violently at a loaded wagon, as we passed it rapidly, reared and fell -back, breaking the pole in two, and throwing himself and his fellow into -ecstasies of fear, plunging and struggling with the want of presence of -mind, and the reckless disregard of consequences always manifested by -terrified horseflesh under circumstances of sudden alarm. - -Victor, however, was a good horseman, and after a short battle, brought -them to terms, Grace, meantime, shrieking violently, and Ellerton -imploring him to let him get the ladies out at once, which looked rather -like one word for the ladies and two for himself. Victor requested him -simply to hold his tongue and sit still, and Ellerton, without a -remonstrance, acquiesced, as the horses, now subdued, stood quite -unresisting, while Victor, giving the reins to me, sprang down, followed -by Michael from behind, and the countryman, whose load of brush had -caused the accident. We were, fortunately, just by a blacksmith's shed, -and in a few minutes that official himself, in his leathern apron and -bare arms, was busily employed in remedying the mishap. - -The horses were still a little restive, and Victor was standing by the -head of one and Michael by the other, when the rest of the party came -up. Quite an excitement was created, of course, at seeing us in this -disabled condition, and our host, springing from his horse, hurried up -in some alarm to ascertain for himself the extent of the accident, which -Ellerton Wynkar, standing up in the carriage, explained at large to the -rest of the party, adding that, "it might have been something serious if -we had not been very prompt." - -Victor bit his lip to keep from laughing, and Grace turned away her -head; nothing but the consciousness of not having distinguished herself -during the action, restrained her from bringing down Mr. Wynkar "a peg -or two" by a statement of facts. - -Mr. Rutledge, finding that the repairing of the pole was likely to -occupy some little time longer, said that the young ladies had better -get in the carriage; he had no doubt Mr. Arbuthnot would willingly give -up his seat. - -Phil, of course, most urgently begged we would do so, but for me, the -idea of being cooped up in the carriage with Mrs. Churchill, and Ella, -and Grace, was insupportable, and I expressed my resolution of staying -by the ship. Mr. Viennet and the smithy said it would only be a few -minutes more, and I declared I didn't in the least mind waiting, it was -such a lovely evening, and I couldn't think of crowding the carriage. - -Grace, partly from perversity, and partly from a little lingering fear -of the bays, said she should accept Phil's invitation, and without more -ado, gave her hand to Mr. Rutledge and sprang out. - -"May I advise you?" said he, coming back to me after he had put Grace in -the carriage. - -"Not against my will, if you please. Indeed, I had rather wait." - -"That settles it," he answered, bowing. "I'm sorry, gentlemen," he -continued, to Victor and Ellerton, "to leave you in this fashion, but my -duties, as host, require me to ride forward with the ladies, and I hope -you will soon follow us." - -Victor assured him of his perfect confidence, that we would be at home -almost as soon as they would; and then, with a polite commendation of -his fortitude under misfortune, Mr. Rutledge threw himself upon his -horse, and galloped after the carriage. I could not help feeling a -little awkwardly; it is never pleasant to be the only lady among a -number of gentlemen. Besides those of our own party, several men of the -village had collected around us, and with their hands in their pockets, -and in a very easy, sauntering way, were offering their comments on the -accident. - -Victor walked angrily up to one, who, with a short pipe between his -lips, had ventured rather too near, and was leaning nonchalantly against -the fore-wheel; and knocking the pipe out of his mouth, took him by the -shoulder and ordered him to take himself off. Didn't he see there was a -lady in the carriage? - -The man moved sulkily away, but I saw him more than once look back with -an ugly expression in his eyes toward Victor, as he crossed the road and -disappeared in the woods that skirted the highway. - -Just at that moment, a sorrel horse drew up beside us, and an inquiring -face was thrust out from the gig behind it. - -"What's the matter, Michael? Anybody hurt? An accident, did you say?" -inquired a voice that gave me a cold chill. - -"That detestable doctor already!" And returning stiffly his salutations -as he recognized me, and hurried up to the carriage, I said there had -been no accident to anything but the pole of the carriage, and that was -nearly remedied, and we had plenty of assistance. - -The doctor bowed, but did not seem in the least discomposed by my too -obvious rudeness, and leaning comfortably on the wheel, as the dismissed -clown had done before him, continued to address me in a tone of easy -familiarity that was too annoying to me to be concealed, and my face -must have told the story; for Victor, calling to one of the men to hold -the horses a moment, walked quickly up behind the doctor, and laying his -hand heavily on his shoulder, said, in a tone by no means equivocal: - -"I say, my good fellow, you are annoying this lady, and I must ask you -to step back!" - -The doctor did step back, and turning quickly, faced him. - -"Victor Viennet, as I am a sinner!" - -I looked on in wonder, as I saw Victor give a violent start, and change -color; then recovering himself after a moment, he said, in altered -voice: - -"I ask your pardon, Dr. Hugh, I didn't see your face. How, under heaven, -did you happen to turn up here?" - -There was an expression on Victor's face, as he said this, which seemed -involuntarily to indicate that the fact of Dr. Hugh's turning up here, -was just the most disagreeable fact that could possibly have transpired, -and so essentially "cute" a man as the doctor, could not have failed to -see it, but it did not seem in the least to interfere with his -complacency. - -"How did I happen to turn up here? Why, my good fellow (as you said just -now), by the most natural process in the world. You see, after we -parted, a year ago, in the city"---- - -"Yes, yes," said Victor, hurriedly, and in a low tone, "I've got to look -after the smith now. You can tell me there." - -And making some apology to me for the continued detention, he turned to -retrace his steps. The doctor followed, and passed his arm familiarly -through Victor's, at which I saw he winced, but did not attempt to -resent; and the doctor continued to talk to him in a low and -confidential tone. Twilight had already descended before the smith -pronounced the job completed, and Michael, backing up the horses, put -them to the carriage. While this was being accomplished, Victor and Dr. -Hugh, standing a few paces apart from the others, talked together, or -rather, the doctor talked and Victor listened with ill-concealed -impatience. - -I could not hear a word that passed, but I could see that Victor was -suffering torture at the hands of the bland doctor, and his face, for -several minutes after he had parted from him and resumed his seat in the -carriage, wore an expression of pain and anger. We had started and -driven on for some distance before either spoke, and the first to break -the silence, I said, with more curiosity than courtesy: - -"How in the world did you happen to know that detestable doctor? I -didn't suppose anybody had ever seen him before he came here." - -"Detestable you may well call him," said Victor, below his breath, and -with a sort of groan. "I'd rather have met the arch-fiend himself!" - -Then hastily remembering himself, he apologized, exclaiming, with a -laugh, that the fellow always put him out of temper, and bored him to -death, and he hoped he should never see him again, and he didn't mean to -trouble himself any further about him. With that last resolution, his -spirits rose, and in a few minutes he was as gay as ever. We were -dashing along at such an inspiriting pace, that no one could help -throwing dull care, and all things sad and gloomy, to the winds, and -being pro tem. in the highest spirits. - -"I am sure you drive as well as you dance," said Victor, putting the -reins into my hands. "Let me see whether you know how to handle the -ribbons." - -Put upon my mettle in that way, nothing could have induced me to have -declined the undertaking, though I happened to know a thing or two in -the early history of the bays that Mr. Viennet was evidently ignorant -of, and the recollection of which put a nervous intensity into the grasp -I had upon the reins. - -"Admirable!" said Victor, with enthusiasm; "I see you understand what -you are about. You manage those beasts as well as I could, and there's -no denying it, they do pull." - -"_Pull_ isn't the word," I thought; "but no matter." - -"What a good road!" exclaimed Victor. "We're going like the wind. -Ellerton, this is fine, is it not?" - -"Charming," said Ellerton, feebly, from the back seat; "charming; I -never saw a lady drive so well; but don't you think, it's getting so -dark, it would be better for you to take the reins? You can see better, -you know." - -"On the contrary," said Victor, with great glee, "on the contrary; the -female vision, you know, is proverbially the sharpest. Shall I touch up -that near horse? He rather lags," he continued, wickedly, to me. - -"Oh no, thank you!" I said, breathlessly, but trying to laugh. - -"I'm sure you're tired," said Mr. Wynkar, with great feeling. "You speak -as if you were. Victor, you lazy dog, take the reins, if you have any -politeness left." - -"I haven't," said Victor, leaning back with composure. "I haven't a -vestige left. I used up the last I had about me on that boor with the -short pipe, who gave me such a gracious look as he walked off." - -"Yes," I exclaimed, "I think you'll hear from him again." - -"Not improbable," said Victor, coolly. "I have a knack at getting into -scrapes that's only exceeded by my knack at getting out of them. Now I -think of it, he didn't look like a pleasant sort of fellow to meet in a -dark piece of woods like this." - -We had just driven into the woods that stretched about half a mile this -side of the gate of Rutledge Park, and the faint young moon that had -been lighting us since we left the village, had no power to penetrate -the dense foliage that met over our heads, and shut out moon and sky. It -did not make me any more comfortable to remember that there was a short -path from the village across these woods, and that any one on foot could -reach this point almost as soon as in a carriage by the road. I did not -feel like laughing at Ellerton Wynkar's little gasp of fear, and -Victor's gay laugh and easy tone of assurance, far from inspiring me -with confidence, made me doubly nervous and apprehensive. I only wished -that I dared ask him to be quiet till we were out into the open road -again. But he seemed possessed with mischief--he quizzed Ellerton, told -droll stories, and laughed till the woods rang again. But through it -all, I strained my ear to catch the faintest noise by the roadside; and -when the horses, more intent than I, shied violently to one side and -dashed forward, with a quivering, desperate pull upon the reins, I was -quite prepared for what succeeded. A large stone whirred swiftly -through the air, just grazed my cheek, and fell with a crashing sound on -the other side of the road. - -"Good heavens!" cried Victor, starting forward, "are you hurt?" - -"No, no," I exclaimed; "for heaven's sake, be quiet." - -"Give me the reins," he cried, snatching them. - -"No, no!" I answered, keeping them by a desperate exertion of strength. -"I shall never forgive you if you stop the horses." - -"I shall never forgive myself for the danger I have brought you in," he -said, in a low tone. "You will never trust yourself to my protection -again, I fear," he continued earnestly, as we drove into the park gate. - -"Oh, I'm not afraid as long as I hold the ribbons," I answered, trying -to laugh, but drawing a freer breath as we cleared the woods and came -into the moonlight again. - -"You are cruel," he said, in a lower tone still. - -"There's the house at last!" exclaimed Ellerton, with a sigh of relief -so profound that we both started. - -"How are you getting on, behind there?" asked Victor. "I'd forgotten all -about you, Ellerton. That was a neat little compliment from our friend -in the woods, now wasn't it? But the least said about those little -attentions the better, I've always found; you understand. 'Oh no, we -never mentions him,' under any circumstances." - -"Of course not," said Ellerton, acquiescently. "I should not speak of it -on any account." - -"And, Michael, my man," continued Victor, putting his hand in his -pocket, "whist's the word about this little adventure, you know." - -Michael touched his hat, and, pocketing the coin that Victor tossed him, -promised absolute silence on the subject. - -The horses, as we came up the avenue, slackened their pace, and gave us -time to look around. Sunset, starlight moonlight, had neither of them -abdicated the bright June sky, but all combined to light up the picture -for us, and make the lake a sheet of silver, and the dark, old house as -fair as it could be made. - -"A fine old place, indeed," said Victor, with a temporary shade of -seriousness on his face. "It must be pleasant to have such an ancestral -home as that. These Rutledges are a high family, are they not?" - -"One of the very best in the State;" answered Ellerton, feeling that -"family" was always a toast to which he was called upon to respond. -"There are very few in the country who can go back so far. The Rutledges -have always been very exclusive, and held themselves very high, and so -have never lost their position." - -"Ha!" said Victor, with a little darkening of the brow. "That's the -style, is it? Our host, then, is a proud man, I am to understand--one -who values birth, and that sort of thing, and plumes himself upon it, -and regards with a proper scorn all who have come into the world under -less favorable auspices than himself." - -"Exactly," said Ellerton. "I think that's Rutledge exactly. He's what -you'd call a regular aristocrat, and proud as Lucifer himself." - -"I kiss his hand!" cried Victor, with a dash of bitterness in his tone. -"Commend me to such a man as that! I reverence his largeness of soul, -his nobility of nature! I long to show him in what esteem I hold him." - -"I think you mistake Mr. Rutledge," I began eagerly; but before I had -time to say another word we were at the door, and Mr. Rutledge himself, -descending the steps quickly, and speaking with some anxiety, exclaimed: - -"We have been very uneasy about you. I have just sent orders to the -stable for horses to start to meet you. Has anything happened?" - -"The pole required just three times as long to repair as Mr. Smithy said -it would," answered Victor, "and we, very foolishly depending upon his -word in the matter, were much disappointed in not reaching the house -three-quarters of an hour ago. I am sorry to have caused you any -uneasiness." - -"It is dissipated now," said Mr. Rutledge, courteously. "I only regret -that your arrival should have been marked by such a misadventure." - -"What would he say if he knew of misadventure number two?" said Victor, -_sotto voce_, as he assisted me to alight. "I feel positively -superstitious. No good is coming of this visit, depend upon it!" - -As we were half-way up the steps, I found I had forgotten my parasol, -and Victor went back to look for it. Mr. Rutledge, seizing the -opportunity of his absence, said to me quickly: - -"I see you drove those horses; you must promise me you will never do it -again." - -"Why not?" I asked, haughtily. - -"No matter why; you must promise me you will never touch the reins again -behind them." - -"I am sure I drove them up in style; Michael himself could not have done -it better. I don't think I can bind myself never to do it again. You'll -have to excuse me from promising." - -"I remember; you have a prejudice against promising." - -There was something in his tone, and in the short laugh that followed -these words, that brought back so much of what I had been trying to -forget, and revived so much of what I had half forgiven, that I made no -effort to keep back the hasty words that rushed to my lips. - -"Can you wonder at it? My experience has been so unfortunate; why, less -than a year ago, I made a promise that, I suppose, was as binding as -most other promises, and meant about as much; and I have found it a -chain at once the lightest and most galling--empty as air, and yet the -hatefullest restraint--the veriest mockery, and yet a thing I can't get -rid of! That's briefly what I think of promises, and why you must excuse -me from making one." - -"I will excuse you," he said, looking at me with eyes that never -faltered; "I will excuse you, with all my heart, from making or keeping -any promise to me." - -This upon the threshold! Under the very shadow of the doorway! I felt -faint and giddy as I passed on into the hall. Kitty, with a low cry of -delight, sprung forward to meet me. - -"Kitty, I am so glad!" I said, laying my hand upon her arm. "Isn't it a -long time since I went away? But I am so tired; do take me to my room." - -Kitty flew up the stairs in delight, only stopping occasionally to ask -me if I didn't feel well, and if she couldn't help me. All the others -had gone to their rooms; not even Mrs. Roberts was to be seen. - -"She's got her hands too full to prowl around now," said Kitty, with a -wicked shake of the head. She led the way to my old room, and, to my -surprise, putting her hand in her pocket, drew out the key, and fitted -it in the lock. - -"What's the reason of its being locked up?" I said in surprise. - -"Reason enough, Miss," said Kitty, with a profound look. Then, admitting -me and shutting the door carefully, continued, in a less guarded tone: -"The idea of your coming back here and having any but your own room! And -it's been just as much as I could do to keep Mrs. Roberts from putting -Miss Churchill in it. Such a time as I had about it when the baggage -came! None of the ladies had come upstairs yet; they were all walking -about the piazza and hall with master, and Thomas was seeing to the -trunks being carried up, and I overheard Mrs. Roberts say: 'Thomas, Miss -Churchill's baggage is to be put in the blue room, and her mamma's and -Miss Grace's in the oak-chamber opposite, and Miss Wynkar's goes in the -south room.' 'No, I beg your pardon, ma'am,' I says, coming forward, -'_my_ young lady's trunk goes to the blue room, if you please. I've -master's own orders for it, and I'll go ask him again if you -choose.'_Your_ young lady, indeed!' says Mrs. Roberts, throwing me such -an awful look. 'Thomas, you will attend to my orders.' I flew upstairs -and put the key in my pocket, and Thomas tipped me a wink, and left your -trunk outside the door. And now," said Kitty, stopping a moment to -recover breath, "don't you think it looks pleasant, Miss?" - -"Indeed it does, Kitty," I said, gratefully, sinking down in an -easy-chair, and looking about me admiringly. It looked whiter and cooler -than ever. There were new book-shelves in the recesses, and new curtains -at the windows; roses, mignonette and heliotrope, filled the slender -vases, and the wax candles on the dressing-table shed the softest light -around the room. Kitty, busying herself about putting away my bonnet and -shawls, chatted on eagerly. - -"Gay times, these, for Rutledge," she went on, after having answered my -inquiries for Stephen and the others. "Gay times, and busy times. Who'd -ever have thought to see this house full of company again?" - -"Yes," I said, "so busy, I am afraid, I shall not have much of your -attendance, Kitty. It will not be like last fall, when you had nothing -to do but wait on me. What nice times those were! I wish all the rest of -the people were miles away, Kitty, and there was no one in the house -that wasn't here last November." - -"Oh!" exclaimed Kitty, deprecatingly, "I'm sure you'll enjoy it, Miss, -with so many young gentlemen and ladies. I'm certain master thought you -would, or he wouldn't have asked them. And as for my waiting on you, why -that's all settled, and Mrs. Roberts knows it too. Mr. Rutledge told me -this very morning that he supposed it would please me to be allowed to -attend upon you, and that I was to consider that my duty as long as you -were here. Mrs. Roberts had come in for some directions, and she heard -it all. She jerked her head, and flounced a little, but didn't dare to -say a word. But," continued Kitty, anxiously, "I'm afraid you are not -well. Can I get you anything? Won't you lie down? Oh! I am afraid you -are crying." - -Kitty's fears were not unfounded. The tears rushed to my eyes, and -hiding my face in my hands, I tried, but vainly, to suppress the -hysterical sobs that choked me, as I essayed to answer her anxious -questions. She was so disappointed and alarmed at my unexpected mood -that she hardly knew what to do, and I tried, as soon as I could speak, -to assure her that I was really very glad to get back, that there was -nothing the matter, only I was very nervous and tired. - -"And there's the tea-bell!" exclaimed Kitty, in dismay, "and everybody -else is dressed! What's to be done?" - -"There's nothing for it, Kitty, but to let me go to bed. I can't go -downstairs to-night--it would kill me. Undress me, and then don't let a -soul come in--not even my aunt. That's a good Kitty: it isn't the first -time you've taken care of me." - -"Ah!" said Kitty, with tears in her kind eyes, "if I only knew what to -do to make you better! It isn't the headache that I mean--a cup of tea -and a good night's rest will make that all right; but you ain't the same -young lady that you were last fall. I saw that the minute you stepped -into the hall. There's something on your mind; I knew it the instant you -spoke. When you used to talk, it was as if there was a laugh in your -voice all the time, and now you talk as if you were tired, and hated to -open your lips." - -"So I am, Kitty," I said, with a fresh burst of crying. "I am tired and -heart-sick, and when I talk it's no wonder there are 'tears in my -voice.' There are a great many things to make me unhappy; you mustn't -ask me anything about them; but it's so long since I've had anybody to -care for me, and nurse me, that it makes me babyish, I believe. There!" -I exclaimed, after a minute, conquering my tears, "don't think anything -more about it, Kitty, but help me to undress." - -There could have been no better medicine for my aching head and heart, -than that Kitty administered. It was a perfect luxury to resign myself -into her hands, to feel that I needn't think again to-night if I didn't -choose, that I was sure of being watched over and cared for, come what -might. I had not realized, till I came into its sunshine again, how -perfectly necessary to anything like happiness an atmosphere of love is. -I had known that, in my home, I had felt chilled and forlorn. I had -given no pleasure to others, and received none myself; but, child-like, -I had only known it was, and had not asked why. But now, that kind and -tender hands rendered the services that I had long wearily performed for -myself, and a watchful care provided for my comfort and remembered my -tastes, I realized how unnatural and unkind a thing it is for anything -of human mold to be denied human love and sympathy; I realized how -necessary to the fair growth and goodly proportions of a nature, is the -sunshine of kindness and affection. Since I had left Rutledge, I had -never known what it was to be caressed and favored; misconstrued, -slighted, and put aside by those around me, the natural result had been -reserve, distrust, and aversion on my part. I was, as Kitty said, not -the same girl I had been. I knew better than Kitty did how deep the -change had gone--how far below the surface the blight had struck. The -brave, gay heart of the child was dead in my bosom forever. Whatever -there might be to hope for, in the future, it must be the life-and-death -struggle and victory of the woman, not the careless happiness of the -child. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV. - - - "Love is hurt with jar and fret, - Love is made a vague regret, - Eyes with idle tears are wet, - Idle habit links us yet-- - What is love? for we forget; - Ah! no, no!" - -TENNYSON. - - -My bright eyed maid had something evidently on her mind the next -morning, as stealing early to my bedside, she found me awake and quite -ready for her services. I caught sight of her perplexed face in the -glass, as she dressed my hair, and said at last, "What are you thinking -about, Kitty, has anything happened?" - -"Happened? Oh, no, Miss," she said, blushing, and a little confused. "I -was only thinking--I was only wondering"---- - -"Well, Kitty?" - -"I mean that--that is--are you very fond of Miss Churchill?" - -I laughed and blushed a little in my turn, and said: - -"Why no, not particularly, I think." - -"Because _I_ think she's a very haughty lady, for my part; and if I am -any judge, her maid, Frances, is a much-put-upon young woman, that's -all." - -"What has led you to that conclusion so soon?" I asked, with a smile. - -"Oh! nothing particular, ma'am, only some of Miss Churchill's ruffled -morning dresses got crushed in the packing, and Frances was in the -laundry till after twelve o'clock last night, fluting 'em over; and I've -noticed, Frances starts and flusters when her lady's bell rings, as if -there were a scolding for her at the other end of the wire, that's all." - -"Oh, that's a trifle! Frances is nervous," I said, apologetically. "What -did my aunt say when you told her my message last night?" - -"Nothing but 'very well,' and 'I am sorry to hear it.' There wasn't time -for any more, for the gentleman they call Captain, with the big -moustache, came up for her to play whist, and she went away with him. -But," said Kitty, hesitatingly, and looking at me very sharply, "I don't -know whether I ought to tell you, but there was a gentleman who didn't -seem to take it quite so coolly as Mrs. Churchill did." - -"Who, pray?" I asked, as the blood started to my cheeks. - -"The young French gentleman, Miss; I think they call him Mr."---- - -"Oh, Mr. Viennet!" - -"I wonder, Miss, why you say 'Oh, Mr. Viennet!' as if you were -disappointed," said Kitty, quite nettled. "I'm sure he's the handsomest -gentleman among 'em; and if you could have seen him, when he followed me -up the stairs, and asked about you, I am sure you'd think better of it; -and he's got the handsomest eyes! I can't think why you don't like him." - -"I have not said I did not; and besides, Kitty," I continued, gravely, -"it's not right for you to talk to the gentlemen; you must be careful." - -"I know, Miss; but who could help talking to such a nice gentleman, just -answering his questions? I'm sure he could get round Mrs. Roberts -herself, if he tried! let alone people that ain't made of stone or -leather. And," continued Kitty, "isn't it odd, Miss, but all the time he -was talking to me, I couldn't help wondering where I'd seen him before? -I know for a certainty, that he's never been within forty miles of -Rutledge till now, and I've never been twenty miles away from it; and -yet, for my life, I couldn't get it out of my head, that some where or -other I'd seen him before!" - -"It's a very foolish idea to have in your head, Kitty, and a very -improbable one at the best; so I wouldn't trouble myself any further -about it, if I were you." - -I did not mention it to Kitty, but I could not help being struck with -the similarity of my own impressions on first meeting Victor Viennet. It -was the vaguest, mistiest chain of reminiscence that his face seemed to -stir, but till I had seen him several times, it continued to perplex me. -I could not account for it in any way; but the association or -recollection, or whatever it was, had faded before a closer -acquaintance; and now Victor Viennet's handsome face suggested Victor -Viennet, and nobody or nothing more. - -"These will match your lilac muslin exactly, Miss," said Kitty, offering -me a handful of purple "morning glories." "I ran out to get you some -flowers before I came in to wake you, but I was in such a hurry, that I -couldn't go as far as the garden, and so just picked these out of the -hedge." - -I thanked her as I fastened them in my dress; they looked lovely with -the dew still shining on them. It was yet a good while to breakfast, but -I turned to go downstairs, accepting, with a smile at the newness of -such services, the dainty handkerchief that Kitty shook out for me. - -The fresh morning breeze swept softly through the wide hall as I -descended the stairs. Summer had come in and taken the gloomy old place -by storm. A pyramid of flowers stood on the dark oak table in the -centre, a mocking-bird in its gay cage hung at one end, and over the -cold marble pavement the sunshine was creeping fast. The house was so -quiet, that I could almost fancy I was alone in it, and crossing the -hall, I went up to the library door; but a cowardly irresolution made me -turn away, and pass on to the north door of the hall, which, as well as -the front one, stood wide open. The broad fields stretched far away -June-like and lovely in the sunshine; the hedges and trees were in such -luxuriant leaf, that they quite hid the stables and outhouses on the -left that last fall had been so prominent in the landscape. Looking from -the parlor windows, there was the same view of the lake that I had from -my room. The mists were rolling up from its fair bosom, and the foliage -that crowned its banks was of the freshest and glossiest green. The dew -was glittering on the lawn, early birds twittered and sang in the -branches overhead, and on the breeze came the rich perfume of the roses -that climbed from pillar to pillar of the piazza. Rutledge had fulfilled -my anticipations; in my weary, longing day-dreams, I had never pictured -anything fairer than this. - -It was with a half-defined feeling of curiosity that I wandered through -the large parlors, furnished in an odd mixture of old-fashioned splendor -and modern elegance. It was _terra incognita_ to me; I had never entered -these rooms before. I could hardly understand how the sunshine and fresh -air came to be so much at home in them, as it seemed they now were. It -was difficult to believe that these finely furnished, habitable looking -apartments, had been closed and unused for twenty years and more. They -had been thoroughly revised, no doubt, and the past put to the rout; but -they were strange and unattractive to me, and I turned again to the -library. Listening at the door before I pushed it open, I entered -noiselessly. There was no need of so much caution; this room was as -untenanted as its neighbors, save by thronging memories and torturing -regrets, and they entered with me. - -Here at least there was no change; the wide casements were open to the -morning, but the white north light seemed subdued and cold after the -sunshine of the other rooms, and the dark panelling and frowning -moldings looked a defiance at the intruding summer. I liked it better -so; there had been change enough without this last stronghold of memory -being invaded. - -Every article of furniture in the room--the table, with its pile of -papers at one end and books at the other, the familiar paper-cutter -lying by the unopened review, the heavy bronze inkstand, the graceful -lamp, the chair, pushed back half a yard from the table--minded me of -the happy hours that it would have been wiser to forget. One of the -bookcases stood open, and a book lay on the table as if recently read, -and a card marked the reader's place. I took it up involuntarily. It was -Sintram, and the words swam before me as I bent over its familiar pages. -On the card that had served for a mark, were written a few lines in a -well known hand; and as I raised my eyes from them to the window, I saw -Mr. Rutledge himself approaching the house from the direction of the -stables. With a hurried movement I slipped the card in my pocket, and -finding nothing else to replace it with, pulled one of the flowers from -my bosom, and hastily shutting it between the leaves, threw the book on -the table, and ran into the hall. If I had been a fugitive from justice, -I could not have had a more guilty feeling than that which now impelled -me to escape from meeting Mr. Rutledge. But there was no time to get -upstairs; he would see me from the piazza if I went into the parlor; and -while I stood in the hall, trembling with eagerness, and alarm, and -irresolution, my retreat was cut off by the sudden appearance of Victor -descending the stairs, who with an exclamation of pleasure, hurried -toward me, and taking my hand was bowing over it in most devout fashion, -when Mr. Rutledge entered the hall. Victor looked a little confused, and -paused in the midst of an elegant French speech, while the quick crimson -dyed my cheeks, all of which Mr. Rutledge appeared to ignore, as, -approaching us, he said good morning with his usual courtesy of manner, -expressed his pleasure in the improvement apparent in my looks, and then -to Victor his astonishment at finding him a person of such early -habits. - -"Pray do not give me any credit for getting up this morning," said -Victor with a hasty wave of the hand. "I assure you I detest early -rising with my whole French soul, and haven't seen a sun younger than -three hours old since I can remember; but, my dear sir, with all homage -to the most comfortable of beds, and the pleasantest room I ever -occupied in my life, I never passed such a night! When at last I slept, -my dreams were so frightful that I was thankful to wake, and would have -resorted to any means to have kept myself awake, if there had been the -slightest danger of my closing my eyes again." - -"What room did you occupy?" I asked. - -"The corner room at the north end of the hall, it is, I think." - -"It is most unfortunate," said Mr. Rutledge, looking a little annoyed. -"Are you subject to wakeful nights?" - -"Never remember such an occurrence before," he returned. "I have enjoyed -the plebeian luxury of sound sleep all my life, and so am more at a loss -to account for my experience of last night." - -"Were you disturbed by any noise--conscious of any one moving in the -house?" - -"No, the house was silent, silent as death! _Ma foi!_ I believe that was -the worst of it. If I were superstitious, I should tell you of the only -thing that interrupted it; but I know how credulous and absurd it would -sound to dispassionate judges, and how I should ridicule anything of the -kind in another person; but this strange nightmare has taken such -possession of me, I cannot shake it off." - -His face expressed intense feeling as he spoke, and the usual levity of -his manner was quite gone. - -"What was it?" I said earnestly, and Mr. Rutledge looked indeed so far -from ridiculing his emotion, that Victor went on rapidly: - -"You will think me a person of imaginative and excitable temperament, -but I must assure you to the contrary, and that I never before yielded -to a superstitious fancy, and have always held in great contempt all who -were influenced by such follies. Will you believe me then, when I tell -you that last night I was startled violently from my sleep, by a voice -that sounded, from its hollowness and ghastliness, as if it came from -the fleshless jaws of a skeleton, calling again and again, in tones that -made my blood curdle, a familiar name, and one that at any time, I -cannot hear without emotion. Sleep had nothing to do with it! I was as -wide awake as I am now. But pshaw!" he exclaimed, suddenly turning, "I -shall forget all about it in an hour, and I beg you'll do the same," and -not giving either of us time to answer, he went on in an altered tone: -"Mr. Rutledge, what a fine place you have! I have been admiring the view -from my window. Have you purchased it recently? I don't remember to have -seen a finer estate in America." - -"It is a valuable and well located farm," answered Mr. Rutledge, rather -indifferently; "but farming is not my specialty, and I never should have -encumbered myself voluntarily with such a care, if it had not devolved -upon me by inheritance." - -"Ah!" said Victor with a slight accent of irony, that from last night's -conversation I was prepared for; "It was then a case of greatness -thrust, etc. But sir, it must add a great charm to this already charming -home, to think that it has been the birth-place and family altar, as it -were, of generations of your ancestors? Surely you are not insensible to -such sentiments of pride and affection." - -"Associations of that kind, of course, invest a place with a certain -kind of interest; but I cannot lay claim to as much feeling on the -subject as perhaps would be becoming. Like you, sir," he said, with a -bow, "I have a dread of claiming credit for habits and feelings that I -do not possess and entertain." - -Victor looked a little annoyed that he had not succeeded in drawing out -Mr. Rutledge's aristocratic and overbearing sentiments, and he would -not have given up the subject, had not Mr. Rutledge, with a firm and -quiet hand, put it aside, and led the way to other topics. - -"How is it," he said to me, "that you have not noticed your small friend -Tigre? He has been at your feet for the last five minutes, looking most -wistfully for a kind word." - -I started in confusion and surprise, and stooping down, covered the dog -with caresses. The poor little rascal was frantic with delight, -springing up to my face, and ejaculating his welcome in short barks and -low whines, tearing around me, and then running off a little distance -and looking back enthusiastically. - -"He is evidently inviting you to another steeple-chase," said Mr. -Rutledge. - -I blushed violently at the recollection, and wished Tigre anywhere but -where he was. - -"Have you lost your interest in the turf, since your season in town, or -have other interests and tastes developed themselves while it has lain -dormant?" - -"Other tastes have developed themselves, I believe," I answered. - -"Break it gently to Tigre, I beg you then, for I am sure he has been -living all winter on the hope of another romp. He does not appreciate -the lapse of time, and the changes involved, so readily as his betters, -you know." - -"He has, at least, the grace to receive them more kindly," I returned, -stooping to pat him. "Tigre, if I am too old to run races, I am not -debarred as yet from taking walks, I believe, and I would propose that -we indulge in one. Mr. Viennet, are you too old to be of the party?" - -Mr. Rutledge turned shortly toward the library, Victor and I passed out -on the piazza, and, with Tigre in close attendance, descended the broad -steps to the terrace. - -Breakfast was nearly completed when we returned, and the party at the -table looked up in amazement as we entered the room. - -"I should admire to know," exclaimed Ella Wynkar, who affected Boston -manners, and "admired" a good deal, "I should admire to know where you -two have been! Mr. Arbuthnot declares that Mr. Viennet has been up since -daybreak; and as for _you_," she said, turning to me, "I heard your door -shut hours ago." - -"Restrain your admiration, Miss Wynkar," said Victor, as he placed a -chair for me. "We have been taking a short turn on the terrace for the -fresh air. I wonder you did not emulate our example." - -"Terrace, indeed!" exclaimed Phil. "I've been on the piazza for half an -hour, and I'll take my oath you weren't within gunshot of the terrace -all that time." - -"Don't perjure yourself, my good fellow," said Victor, coolly, "but -assist us to some breakfast. The terrace has given us an appetite." - -"How is your headache, my dear?" said my aunt, from across the table. - -"My headache, ma'am? Oh, I forgot--I beg your pardon; it's better, thank -you." - -"How serious it must have been!" said Josephine. "Oh! by the way, Mr. -Rutledge, it isn't worth while to ask them to join us in _our_ party -this morning, is it? They didn't ask us to go with them." - -Mr. Rutledge shrugged his shoulders. "I think, Miss Josephine, we are -safe in asking them; they wouldn't accept, of course, and we should save -our credit, you know." - -"I would not trust them, sir. It's my advice that they're not asked." - -"Then," returned Mr. Rutledge, with a low bow and his finest smile, "as -with me to hear is to obey, I resign all thought of remonstrance, and -acquiesce in the decree." - -Josephine accepted the homage very graciously, and the jest was kept up -around the table till I, for one, was heartily sick of it. No one -supposed, however, that I would be fool enough to take it in earnest; -but I was just such a fool; and when, an hour or two later, the horses -were brought to the door, and the scattered party summoned from library, -parlor, billiard-room, and garden, to prepare for the drive, I was -struggling with a fit of ill-temper in my own room, which resulted in my -"begging to be excused," when Thomas came to the door to announce the -carriage. - -My refusal didn't seem to damp the spirits of the party much. I looked -through the half closed blinds to see them start. Victor at the last -minute pleaded a headache, and "begged to be excused," on which occasion -the captain made one of the jokes for which he was justly famous, and -led off the laugh after it. - -"The pretty darling's in the sulks, I suppose," I heard Grace say; but -no one was at the pains to resent or applaud the remark, and I listened -to the departing carriage-wheels and the lessening sound of merry voices -with anything but a merry heart. - -One never feels very complacent after spiting oneself; the inelegant -describe the state of feeling by the adjective "small;" and I was not -rendered any more comfortable by finding that I had made a prisoner of -myself for the morning. If Victor had only gone, as I had anticipated, I -should have consoled myself for the loss of the drive by a nice ramble -around the grounds, and down to the stables; but as it was, I would not, -for any consideration, have run the risk of encountering him. I heartily -repented my walk before breakfast, and the relative position it seemed -to place us in, made worse by our both remaining at home. Everybody and -everything seemed to conspire to place us together, and my pride and my -honesty both rebelled against such an arrangement. So, after listening -to the sound of his steps pacing the terrace, the hall, and the piazza -for a full hour, I began to find my captivity intolerable, and -determined to make a visit to the housekeeper's room, and pay my -devoirs to that functionary. Looking stealthily over the balusters, I -ascertained that Victor was still smoking in the hall, so I ran across -to the door of Mrs. Roberts' room, which was standing partly open, and -asked if I might come in. Receiving permission, I entered, and did my -best to appear amiable in Mrs. Roberts' eyes. She was, of course, as -stiff as anything human could well be, but she was too busy to be very -ungracious. This sudden influx of visitors had startled her out of the -slow and steady routine of the last twenty years, and though, on the -whole, she acquitted herself well, it was a very trying and bewildering -position for the old woman. I longed for something to do to appease the -self-reproach I felt for my bad temper, and it struck me that I couldn't -do a more praiseworthy and disagreeable thing than to help Mrs. Roberts -in some of the duties that seemed to press so heavily upon her. So, -sitting down by her, I said: - -"Mrs. Roberts, you'd better let me help you with those raisins; I -haven't a thing to do this morning." - -"That's a pity," said Mrs. Roberts, briefly. "In my day, young ladies -always thought it most becoming to have some occupation." - -"That's just my view of the case, Mrs. Roberts, and if you'll allow me, -I'll have an occupation immediately." - -Sylvie set the huge bowl of raisins on the table, and I drew them toward -me, saying she must allow me to help her with them. Mrs. Roberts thought -not; it would spoil my dress. - -"Then I'll put an apron on." - -She was afraid I did not know how. - -"You can teach me, Mrs. Roberts;" and I began without further -permission. To say that Mrs. Roberts melted before all this amiability -would be to say that Mrs. Roberts had ceased to be Mrs. Roberts. She was -a degree or two less gruff, I believe, at the end of the long hour I -spent in her service, in the seeding of those wretched raisins; but -that was all, and fortunately I had not expected more. I undertook it -as a penance, and it did not lose that character from any excess of -kindness on her part. - -After the raisins were dispatched, Mrs. Roberts applied herself to the -copying of a recipe from an old cookery-book, for which she seemed in -something of a hurry. Dorothy was waiting for it, Sylvie said. "You'd -better let me do it for you, Mrs. Roberts," I said, leaning over her -shoulder. Mrs. Roberts declined, with dignity, for some time, but at -last thoughtfully slid the spectacles off her nose, and seemed to -deliberate about granting my request. She was not a very ready scribe, -and she had a dozen other things to do, all of which weighed with my -urgency, and in two minutes I was at the desk, copying out of a -venerable cookery-book, the receipt that Mrs. Roberts indicated. I was -in pretty engrossing business, I found one duty succeeded another very -regularly; Mrs. Roberts, I saw, had determined to get as much out of me -now as she could. - -A dread of draughts was one of her peculiarities, so the door and the -front windows were closed against the pleasant breeze, and to this I -attribute it that we were unconscious of the return of the riding party -till the door opened suddenly and Mr. Rutledge entered. - -"Mrs. Roberts," he said, "you are wanted below. Miss Churchill has hurt -her ankle in getting out of the carriage, and I have come to you for -some arnica." - -Mrs. Roberts bustled over to the medicine chest, and, taking the bottle -of arnica and a roll of linen in her hand, hurried out of the room; -while Mr. Rutledge, crossing over to the table where I sat, stood -looking down at me without speaking, while I nervously went on with my -writing without raising my eyes. - -"Why did you not go with us this morning?" he said at last, sitting down -by the table. - -"I didn't want to." - -"That is a very good reason; but I think you would have done better to -have thwarted your inclination for once. There are two reasons why it -would have been wiser to have gone." - -"What is one?" I demanded. - -"One is that your staying looked unamiable, and as if you could not take -a joke." - -"Well, it only looked as I felt. I was unamiable, and I didn't like the -joke. What is the other?" - -"The other, I am pretty sure to make you angry by giving, but I must -risk that. Your refusing to go looked very much as if you preferred -another tete-a-tete, to the society of us all." - -"I cannot see that," I said, looking up flushed and angry. "When I -supposed that I was the only member of the party who intended to stay at -home, I cannot see how it could be inferred that I remained from any -such motive." - -"I, for one, had no doubt of it." - -"You are kind!" I cried. "It is pleasant to feel I am always sure of -one, at least, to put the kindest construction on what I do." - -"Is my niece accounting for her willfulness in staying at home this -morning?" said the slow, soft voice of Mrs. Churchill, that crept into -my senses like a subtle poison, and silenced the angry words on my lips. -"Are you not penitent, _ma chere_," she said, approaching me, and laying -her cold hand lightly on my hair. "Do you not begin to see how unwise -such tempers are? How often must I entreat you, my love, to be less -hasty and suspicious and self-willed? Though I am not discouraged with -these childish faults, Mr. Rutledge," turning to him apologetically, "I -own they are somewhat trying. Ever since that unlucky night at the -Academy of Music, I have felt"---- - -"Aunt Edith!" I exclaimed, with flashing eyes, averting my head from her -touch and springing up. "Aunt Edith, that time has never been mentioned -between us since you gave me my reprimand. I cannot understand why you -bring it up now, and before a stranger!" - -"Mr. Rutledge can hardly be called a stranger," she began. - -"If not so to you, remember he is to me," I interrupted. - -"However that may be," she went on, "he was unluckily the witness of -that evening's errors. He saw the self-will and temper that you took no -pains to conceal, and the love of admiration that led you to a most -unaccountable act of imprudence." - -"I should think," I returned, trembling with passion, "that that time -would have no more pleasant memories for you than me. I should think we -might agree not to stir among its ashes. There may be some smoldering -remorse alive in them yet!" - -For a moment, my aunt's face grew white, and her eye faltered and sunk; -angry as I was, I bitterly repented the stab I had given her. Then she -raised her eyes and fixed them on my face with a stern and freezing -look. I don't know what she said; it was too cruel to listen to. I don't -know what I answered; would that it had no record anywhere! - -From that date, there was no disguise between aunt and niece of the -sentiments they had mutually inspired. The flimsy gauze that reserve and -decorum had raised between them was torn to fragments before that storm, -and henceforth there was no pretence of an affection that had never -existed. Two natures more utterly discordant and unsympathetic could not -well be imagined. There was nothing but some frail bands of duty and -convenience, that had kept up the mask of sympathy so far, and then and -there they were snapped irrevocably; and the mask fell prone upon the -ground and was trampled under foot. - -They had better have turned me houseless into the street than have -turned me out of their hearts in this way; in one case, I could have -sought another shelter, and won myself another home. In this, I was -driven out, burning with anger and stung with injustice, from every -heart I had had a right to seek a home in, and before me lay a cold and -inhospitable world. Was the outcast or the world to blame for the -inevitable result? The outcast, no doubt; outcasts always are. - - * * * * * - -"Look--look, Josephine!" cried Grace, bursting into the library, where -most of the party were assembled that evening. Josephine, with her foot -on the sofa, being the nucleus. "Ella, and Phil, and I have just come -from rowing on the lake, and see what we found, up by the pine trees at -the other end of the lake, floating on the water." - -"What is it?" said Josephine, languidly; "a water-lily?" - -"Water-lilies used to be white when I studied botany, Joseph, and this, -you may observe, is purple." - -"And morning-glories, when I studied botany," said Phil, "did not grow -on lakes, but in gardens. Now, as this was discovered on the water, the -question naturally arises, how, by whom, and under what circumstances, -did it get there?" - -"And putting this and that together," said Ella Wynkar, "we think that -the young lady who had morning-glories in her dress this morning, must -have taken a row on the lake, instead of a walk on the terrace." - -"That doesn't follow," said Victor, "any more than it would follow that -Miss Wynkar had visited the desert of Sahara, if a straw hat similar to -the one she has in her hand, should be found there." - -"Mr. Viennet, you are not sufficiently calm for such difficult -reasoning. The fact is established; don't attempt to controvert it," -said Josephine. - -"In any case, I am entitled to the flower, I think," he returned, taking -it from the table, and fastening it in his button-hole. - -"No one will dispute it with you, I fancy," said Josephine, with a -laugh. - -"You seem to have marked your way with morning-glories," said Mr. -Rutledge, who, sitting by the table, was turning over the leaves of a -book. There was another, crushed and faded, and staining the leaves with -its purple blood. - -"One can hardly believe they are contemporaries," said Victor, "mine is -so much fresher." - -"They are the frailest and shortest-lived of flowers," said Mr. -Rutledge, tossing the flower away. "Hardly worth the passing admiration -that their beauty excites." - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI. - - - "If hope but deferred causeth sickness of heart, - What sorrow, to see it forever depart." - - -"This rain knocks the pic-nic all in the head," said Phil, lounging into -the breakfast-room, "and everybody's sure of being in a bad humor on -account of the disappointment. What shall we all do with ourselves?" - -"Play billiards, can't we?" said the captain. - -"I hate billiards, for my part," said Grace, looking dismally out of the -window. "And Josephine's ankle's too bad to play, and Ellerton isn't -well enough, and my pretty cousin there never did anything she was asked -to yet; and Mr. Viennet consequently will refuse, and Phil's too lazy, -and mamma won't take the trouble, and Mr. Rutledge has letters to write; -so I think you'll be at a loss for anybody to play with you, Captain -McGuffy." - -"So it would seem," said the captain, consoling himself with some -breakfast. "I can't see anything better to be done than this, then." - -"It is rather your vocation, I think," returned Grace. "But with the -rest of us, it is an enjoyment that at best cannot last over an hour, -and there are twelve to be got rid of before bed-time." - -"It _is_ trying," said Josephine. "And I've no more crimson for my -sofa-cushion, and no chance of matching it nearer than Norbury. I really -don't know what I shall do all day." - -"If one only had a good novel!" yawned Ella Wynkar. "But there isn't -anything worth reading in the library. I wonder Mr. Rutledge doesn't get -some interesting books." - -"There he comes; ask him," said Grace, maliciously. - -"No, I don't like to. Mr. Rutledge is so odd, there's no knowing how he -might take it." - -Mr. Rutledge entered at this moment, followed by Tigre, and Miss Wynkar, -partly because she was glad of anything to amuse herself with, and -partly for the sake of a pretty attitude, sprung forward and caught the -dog in her arms. - -"Take care! he's just been out in the rain," exclaimed Mr. Rutledge, but -not in time to save the pretty morning dress from Tigre's muddy paws; -and with an exclamation of disgust she threw down the dog, who, whining -piteously from a blow against the table, came limping over to me. - -"Poor fellow! that was a sudden reverse," said Victor, stooping to pat -him. "Give me your paw, my friend, and accept my sympathy." - -Ella darted an angry look toward us, and, I am certain, never forgave -the laugh that escaped me. - -"This is a dull day, young ladies," exclaimed Mr. Rutledge, throwing -himself into a chair. "How shall we dispose of it?" - -"Philosophy to the rescue!" said Josephine, with a charming smile. "It -is only dull compared with what you had promised us." - -"The pic-nic will hold good for another day, we'll trust. In the -meantime, what shall we do to-day?" - -"Who ever heard of doing anything but growl on such a day as this?" said -Phil, leaning over Josephine's chair. - -"Ladies weren't made for anything but sunshine, I'm certain," said the -captain, thoughtfully, over his last cup of coffee. - -Miss Wynkar and the Misses Churchill made the expected outcry at this -speech, and Mr. Rutledge, after the excitement had subsided, went on -with a proposal that quite brought down the house. It was to the effect -that, as the gay people of the neighborhood, the Masons of Windy Hill, -and the Emersons of Beech Grove, had each proposed something for the -general benefit, it seemed expedient that some entertainment should be -got up at Rutledge. What should it be? The Masons were to have tableaux, -and the Emersons' invitations were out for a _fete champetre_. What was -left for them to do? - -"Oh! a thousand things," exclaimed Josephine, with sparkling eyes. "A -ball, or private theatricals, or a masquerade--anything, in fact, would -be delightful." - -"A plain ball would never do after the fete and tableaux," said Ella -Wynkar, decidedly. - -"Whatever you do, I beg, don't let those simpering Mason girls get ahead -of you," suggested Grace. "They've been rehearsing their tableaux for a -fortnight, and they mean to have them perfect." - -"What do you think of theatricals, then?" said Mr. Rutledge. "We can -send for dresses, etc., from town, and we have plenty of time to -rehearse. And, Arbuthnot, I know yon have all the requisites for a -manager, and could bring out a play in excellent style." - -"You will be astonished to find the amount of dramatic talent -undeveloped in this company," exclaimed Victor. "All the improvement I -can suggest is, that the play represented should be written for the -occasion. Now, if I might be allowed, I should propose that Miss Wynkar -and Captain McGuffy be named to write the play, and Ellerton, as the man -of the most cultivated literary taste, and soundest judgment, be -appointed to revise and correct it. The eclat of producing such an -entirely original play, you must see, would be immense." - -The irony of his speech was too broad for even the Wynkars to miss, and -Ella colored angrily, while Ellerton, who was not a proficient at -repartee, moved uneasily on his chair, and looked very wretched, till -Mr. Rutledge came to the rescue with a few words, that, administering -the keenest, quietest, politest possible reprimand to Victor for his -impertinence, reinstated the objects of his ridicule in complacency -again, and quite changed the face of the day. Victor bit his lip; these -two liked each other less and less every day, it was but too evident. -Victor's overbearing and tyrannical disposition found an incessant -obstacle to its gratification in the iron will and better disciplined, -but equally unyielding character of Mr. Rutledge. I tried in vain to -remove Victor's prejudices against his host; but there was an angry -flash of his eye whenever the subject was mentioned, that did not -encourage me to continue it. And it was equally impossible not to resent -Mr. Rutledge's misapprehension of Victor's character. In everything he -misjudged him, and, it was evident, put down to the worst motive much -that was only hasty and ill-judged. While my reason told me that he was -often to blame, the injustice and harshness of Mr. Rutledge's judgment -often roused my sympathy in his behalf, and that dangerous sentiment, -pity, was creeping insensibly into my heart. He was, it was true, a man -of no religious principle, but I had come to regard that as the -inevitable result of his foreign education, and in no way his own fault. -Then there was a light, careless tone in his conversation, a disregard -of others, an almost imperceptible sneer, that a month ago I should have -looked upon with alarm and distrust. But the subtle flattery of his -devotion, the contrast between his manner and that of Mr. Rutledge, and, -indeed, of all the others, had melted away these prejudices, and now I -hardly saw, and only half blamed, the self-willed impetuosity and -impatient sneering of the young foreigner, who, there could be no doubt, -was daily becoming more unpopular among the party at Rutledge. - -Our host had never liked him; Miss Churchill could not be expected to -continue her favor, now that he took no pains to conceal what was the -attraction for him at Rutledge; Grace had never cordially liked any one -in her life, but Victor had been rather a favorite, till he had put down -her sauciness, on one or two occasions, in such a manner as to make her -as vehement in her dislike as her lazy nature rendered her capable of -being; Ella Wynkar hated him--he laughed at her French, and never -omitted an opportunity of turning her pretensions into ridicule; -Ellerton had formerly been very much infatuated with the young -Frenchman, who had carried all before him in society, and been so -general a favorite, but Ellerton was too tempting a subject for Victor's -humor, and he was very careless of his popularity; even with Phil and -the captain he was growing indifferent and distant. Mrs. Churchill alone -showed no change in her feeling toward him; he was only acting the part -she meant him to act, and fulfilling the design she had in inviting him -to accompany us. These feelings, and their causes, so apparent on a -retrospective study of them, were, of course, by the restraints of good -breeding, and the relative positions of all parties, studiously -concealed, and only to be guessed at in unguarded moments. - -"You are not going to follow the dramatic corps, I hope," said Victor, -with a curl of his lip, as the party moved off to the library, to look -over some plays and consult about the proposed entertainment. - -"They would have asked me if they had wanted me, I suppose," I answered, -reddening a little. - -"Then, is there any law to prevent our staying where we are?" he asked, -throwing himself back in the deep window seat opposite me. And there we -passed the live-long morning, Victor idly twisting the worsteds of my -work, and idly gazing out upon the storm, or in upon my face, and idly -talking in his low, rich voice, and holding me, against my will, -enthralled. - -The portraits on the walls looked down upon us with a dumb intelligence, -almost a warning sternness; the rain tried to weary us out; the old -clock struck the passing hours distinctly; the sound of voices in the -library, after a long while, died away, and then the party passed -through the hall and into the parlor, and Josephine's voice, at the -piano succeeded, and then a dance, but still we did not move. What was -the spell that kept me there, I could not have told. Whatever it was, it -was tightening the toils around me, and shutting me off more hopelessly -than ever from all paths but the one I had almost involuntarily taken. - -It appeared at dinner, that the theatricals were given up, owing, -principally, I could not but suspect, to the want of harmony that has -characterized all the attempts at private theatricals that I have ever -witnessed, no one, under any circumstances, having been known to be -pleased with the role assigned to him or her, and all manner of -discontent prevailing on all sides. But Mr. Rutledge, with great -discretion, put it upon other grounds--the short time that intervened -for preparing them, etc. It was agreed that patriotism and propriety -both pointed to the Fourth of July as the appropriate day, and a _bal -masque_ was determined on instead of the theatricals. It was to be the -most delightful affair. Mr. Rutledge had promised to ask everybody, to -send to town for dresses, and to have the house so beautifully -decorated. - -"Ah!" said Josephine with a ravishing smile, "Mr. Rutledge is the best, -the kindest of men." - -Mr. Rutledge, starting from a fit of abstraction at that moment, -certainly did not convey the idea of any very excessive kindness or -goodness. The sternest frown contracted his brow, and in the cold -rigidity of his face, one would never have looked for anything gentle or -tender, and the expression that succeeded it under the influence of -Josephine's smile, was bitter and cynical, even to the most indifferent -observer. - -Rain-storms in June have a way of abating their violence toward evening, -and breaking away enough to let the declining sun look for half an hour -over the wet and shining earth, and make of the desolate place the -freshest and most beautiful of Edens, cheering the silenced birds into -song, and the wet flowers into perfume, and the breaking clouds into -yellow lustre. A whole fair sunshiny day is nothing to it. The sudden -brilliancy and freshness are worth all the gloom that have made them so -dazzling. There was not a tree in the park that afternoon, not a flower -on the lawn, that did not shine and sparkle with a brightness it had -never worn before. There was a fine coolness too, in the fresh wind, -soft and June-like as it was. - -"Is it too late for a ride?" asked Josephine, stepping out on the piazza -where we were all sitting. "A ride on horseback would be delightful, -would it not?" - -"Delightful!" echoed Ella Wynkar. - -"It would be a capital thing," said Phil, rising. "I wonder how it is -about saddle-horses--are there any fit for ladies in the stable, do you -know?" - -"There are only two that would do for us ladies, Mr. Rutledge said," -answered Josephine, "but several that you gentlemen could ride, and I -think it would be the nicest thing in the world to have a brisk canter -this fine afternoon. What do you say, Captain McGuffy?" - -"By all means," responded the captain. "I wonder where Mr. Rutledge is." - -"In the library," said Grace. - -"Then, Miss Josephine, you are the proper person to go and ask his -permission. We know for whose sweet sake all obstacles are overcome, and -if you ask, we are sure of our ride." - -"Yes," said Ellerton, who was excellent in chorus. "Yes, there is no -doubt he'll have the stables emptied in five minutes, if you want a -ride." - -Phil bit his lip, as Josephine, with a very conscious look, sprang up, -saying, "Absurd! It's only because you are afraid to ask yourselves that -you want me to go." And with a coquettish shrug of the shoulders, and a -very arch laugh, she ran through the hall and disappeared at the library -door. - -In a few moments she reappeared, and accompanied by Mr. Rutledge, -joined us on the piazza. There was a subdued tone of triumph in her -voice as she said, - -"The horses will be at the door in five minutes, good people, not a -moment to be lost. Who is going?" - -"I am sorry," said Mr. Rutledge, "that there are but two horses fit for -the ladies' use. There are enough, however, for all the gentlemen. Mr. -Viennet, you will find that chestnut mare you were admiring yesterday, -very good under the saddle." - -Victor bowed, and, looking at me, said, "What do you ride?" - -"I do not mean to ride this afternoon," I said quickly. - -"Come, Ella!" exclaimed Josephine, "it will take us some minutes to put -on our habits," and the two friends flew upstairs. - -Mr. Rutledge approaching me, said in a low tone, "Will you lend Madge to -your cousin or Miss Wynkar if you do not ride yourself?" - -"It is a matter of very small moment to me who rides Madge," I returned -haughtily. "You cannot imagine that I attach any serious meaning to the -jest of last fall." - -"That's as you will," he said, carelessly turning away. - -I had no desire to see the equestrians set off, so going into the hall -for my garden hat and a light shawl, I was stealing quietly out at the -north door, when on the threshold I met Mr. Rutledge and Grace, who had -come around the piazza and were just entering. - -"Where are you going?" said that young person inquisitively. - -"I have not quite made up my mind," I answered, trying to pass her. - -"You're going to walk, and I have a great mind to go with you," she -said, intercepting my exit. - -"You will excuse me for saying I had rather not have you," I returned -shortly. - -"Sweet pet! Its temper don't improve," she said provokingly. - -"You are an insufferable child," I exclaimed, vexed beyond endurance, -and, pushing her aside, I hurried through the doorway. But the fringe of -her shawl caught in the bracelet on my arm, and, much against my will, I -had to turn back to release it. Grace enjoyed my vexation unspeakably, -and did not assist very materially in unfastening the fringe, which, if -the truth must be told, was a very difficult task for my trembling and -impatient fingers. The touch of Mr. Rutledge's cold, steady hand on my -arm, as he stooped to help me, added tenfold to my impatience. - -"Break it," I exclaimed, "you'll never be able to untangle it." - -"Oh that mysterious bracelet!" cried Grace. "You'd never tell me where -it came from." - -"It is a perfect torment," I exclaimed, trying to wrench the long silk -fringe from the links in which it had become hopelessly twisted. "It -catches in everything." - -"Then why do you wear it, may I ask?" said Mr. Rutledge, coolly. - -"Only because I cannot help myself." - -"Can't I assist you?" asked Victor, who had followed me. - -"Very possibly," said Mr. Rutledge. "It is rather a delicate affair and -requires patience, more, I confess, than I have at command." - -"And some strength. Can't you break this thing, Mr. Viennet? I cannot -unclasp it, and it annoys me beyond endurance." - -"I have no doubt that Mr. Viennet can," said Mr. Rutledge, laying the -arm, bracelet, and entangled fringe in Victor's hand. - -He tried in vain for a moment to disengage the fringe or unclasp the -bracelet, while Grace drawled, - -"I advise you to hurry, Mr. Viennet; my cousin bites her lip as if she -were desperately angry." - -"I cannot break it," said Victor, "without hurting you, of course." - -"No matter for that! I am so anxious to have it off, that I should not -mind a little pain." - -Victor shook his head. "Do not ask me to do it." - -"Perhaps I should be less tender," said Mr. Rutledge, bending over it -again, and the frail links yielded instantly to the vice-like grasp of -his strong hand. A cry escaped me as the bracelet snapped, and fell on -the ground at my feet. - -"You are hurt!" exclaimed Victor, starting forward and catching my hand -over which the blood from the wrist was trickling. - -"It is nothing," I said, pulling it away, and wrapping my shawl around -it. "It is only scratched a little." - -"Not very deep, I fancy," said Mr. Rutledge; while Grace, shrugging her -shoulders, exclaimed, as she entered the house: - -"Well! you are the oddest set of people! All three of you as pale as -ashes, and as much in earnest as if it were a matter of life and death! -Mr. Rutledge, I shall coax you to tell me all about it." - -"About what?" asked Mr. Rutledge, following her. And as I caught Grace's -saucy voice, and Mr. Rutledge's quick, sarcastic laugh, as they passed -down the hall, my very breath came quick and short, under the maddening -pressure of a pain I had never felt before. Pique, jealousy, vexation, I -had known enough of, but this, that dashed all other passions to the -dust, and held me gasping in such terrible subjection, was nearer to a -deadly sin. It shot so keen through every vein, it burned so madly in my -brain, that for a moment, pride and reason were stunned; and, regardless -of Victor's eyes fixed on my face, with a low cry of pain, I pressed my -hand to my forehead, then flew down the steps, and vanished from his -sight in the shrubbery. He could hardly have followed me if he had -chosen; I was out of sight of the house before he could have realized -that I had left him. The cool, fresh wind in my face only allayed the -pain enough to give me fresh strength to fly from what, alas! could not -be left behind. The still, unruffled expanse of the lake, as I reached -its banks, gave me that sort of a pang, that it gives one to wake up -from a short troubled sleep, when death and trouble have come in the -night, and find the sunshine flooding the room. It was so utterly out of -tune, so calmly impassive while such hot passion was raging in my -heart--so smiling and indifferent while I was throbbing with such acute -pain, that I sprang away from the sight of it, and hurried on into the -woods, never pausing till I had reached the pine grove at the head of -the lake. - -It was better there; the pine-trees moan when there is no breath to stir -them--sunshine and singing-birds penetrate their solemn depths but -rarely; and at last I stopped, panting and trembling, on a knoll that -rose abruptly in the midst of this forest sanctuary. I sunk down on the -slippery ground at the foot of a tall pine, and leaning my throbbing -temples on my hands, tried to think and reason. - -Do the wild flowers and mountain herbage raise their heads and meet the -sunshine and shake off the blight, an hour after the burning lava has -swept over their frail beauty? Thought, reason, faith, were as -impossible at that moment to me, as growth, and feeling, and verdure are -to them. I did not think--I could not reason; some hateful words rang in -my ears, and a wild, confused purpose mingled with the chaos that -passion had made in my mind; but beyond that I was incapable of thought. - -An hour, perhaps, passed so; the sunset was fast fading out of the sky, -when the sound of voices through the woods struck my ear, and listening, -I recognized the tones of the returning riding-party. There was a -bridle-path, I knew, just below this knoll, through which they were -returning from Norbury, and springing up, I gathered my light muslin -dress about me, and pressing through the thicket that lay between it and -me, waited for them to pass. A low fence ran across the ravine, and -half-kneeling behind this, I watched for them with eager eyes. At last -they came, defiling past me one by one, through the narrow path, the -gentlemen first, then Ella Wynkar, and in a moment after, Madge -Wildfire's glossy head appeared through the opening, so near that I -might have patted her arched neck, or felt the breath from her dilated -nostrils, and touched the gloved hand that held the reins so tightly in -her impatient mouth. Josephine's dark cheek glowed with exercise and -excitement, and as she sat, with her head half-turned, in attention to -the low tones of the horseman who followed her closely, I could not help -acknowledging, with a sharp pang, the beauty that I had never before -appreciated. And her companion saw it too; his stern face softened as he -watched the radiant smiles chase each other over her varying mouth; his -eye, restless with an impatient fire, fell with pleasure on her eager, -attentive face. - -He was thinking--how well I knew it! A thousand devils whispered it in -my ear--he was thinking, "this face is gentle and womanly--it turns to -me for pleasure--it is bright and gay--no storms sweep over it; it has -never repulsed and disappointed me. Shall I end the doubt, and say, it -is the face that shall be the loadstar of my future, the sunshine and -pleasure of my life?" - -The horses threaded their way daintily down the narrow ravine--the -pleasant voices died away in the distance; I raised myself from my -bending attitude, and with blanched cheeks and parted lips, strained my -gaze to catch the last trace of them. If the assembled tribes of earth -and air had been there to see, I could not have brought one tinge of -color to my pallid face, nor taken the deadly stare out of my eyes, I -could only have done as I did now, when suddenly I found I was not -alone, utter a faint exclamation, and turning sick and giddy, lean -against the fence for support. The stealthy, cat-like tread of the -intruder brought him to my side in a moment. I knew, from the instant I -met the glance of his basilisk eyes, that he had been reading my face to -some purpose--that he knew the miserable story written on it. - -"You look agitated," said Dr. Hugh, bending toward me obsequiously. "May -I ask if anything has happened to distress you?" - -His tones were so hateful that I cried quickly: "No, nothing so much as -seeing you;" and, springing across the low barrier, I hurried down the -path. I knew he was following me stealthily; nothing but that fear would -have driven me back to the house again. The path was narrow and -irregular; other paths branched off from it, and before I got within -sight of the lake again, I was thoroughly bewildered, and in the -gathering twilight, the huge trees took weird forms, the "paths grew -dim," and no familiar landmark appeared to guide me. Pausing in fright -and bewilderment, I crouched for a moment behind a clump of trees, and -listened. I had eluded my pursuer; in a second's time, I heard his soft -step treading cautiously and swiftly down the path that I had -inadvertently left. With a sigh of relief, I looked about me, and -finding that the lake was just visible through an opening in the trees, -knew my whereabouts immediately, and only waited for Dr. Hugh to be well -out of the way to start across the park toward the house. - -Several minutes elapsed before I ventured to rise from my hiding-place; -listening again intently, I was about to spring from the thicket, and -effect my escape across the park, when, with a start of fear, I heard a -heavy step crashing among the underbrush in the direction from which we -had come; a heavy step, and then a pause. My heart seemed to stand still -as I waited to hear more. The next sound was a low whistle; a long -pause, and then the signal was repeated. No answer came; and with a low -and surly oath, the new-comer advanced nearer to where I crouched. -Through a gap in the thicket, I could see him as he approached, and even -by this dusky light, I recognized the thickset figure and slouching gait -of the man whom Victor had so wantonly insulted on the evening of our -arrival--of whose enmity there could be no reasonable doubt. It was not -a comfortable thought, but certainly some evil purpose must have brought -him here; and for whom, too, was that signal given? It seemed almost -incredible that such a spirit of revenge should possess itself of such a -sluggish, low-born nature; yet I could not doubt that it was some design -of revenge that kept him lurking about the neighborhood. I knew that -Victor would be in peril if he were abroad to-night. And it was not -comfortable, either, to remember that it was my fault that he had given -the insult; for my protection that he had incurred this malice. How -should I ever forgive myself if any evil came of it? Victor was my only -friend at Rutledge; I could not but be grateful; the recollection of a -thousand kindnesses started up at the thought of the danger I had -involved him in, and I almost forgot that now I shared it. - -Motionless and breathless, I saw him pass within two feet of me, stop, -whistle again, and then, after a pause, throwing himself at full length -on the ground, with his face toward the park, within a few yards of -where I was, lie waiting for I did not dare to think what. Victor, I was -certain, would be somewhere about the grounds, watching for my return; -this direction, sooner or later, he would inevitably take. Moment after -moment crept on; every movement of the stranger--even his heavy -breathing--were as distinct as if he had been within reach of my hand, -and the least motion on my part--the faintest rustle of my dress, or of -the branches of the thicket--would, of course, be as audible to him, and -most dangerous to me; indeed, if he were to turn this way, I could -hardly hope to escape detection, for my light drapery, only half hid -behind the dark thicket, would inevitably betray me. How long this would -last--how determined he could be in his vigil--I dreaded to conjecture. -None but Victor was likely to come to my assistance, and that was just -the very worst of all. - -There was still enough light left in the west to distinguish, as I -looked eagerly that way, that a figure, from the direction of the house, -was crossing the lawn toward us. I turned sick with fear as I -recognized, bounding before the rapidly-approaching walker, Victor's -constant companion, little Tigre; and this, no doubt, was Victor. I -alone could warn him of the danger that awaited him; but, faint and -almost paralyzed with fear, I had not strength nor courage to stir. The -villain beside me, less quick-sighted, had not yet discovered his -advance. - -He was not yet half-way across the park; there might be time. I made a -desperate resolve, and, clearing the copse at one bound, flew, as only -terror and desperation can fly. I heard the startled oath the man -uttered, and the cracking of the birch boughs as he regained his feet; I -heard him spring forward in pursuit, but by that time I was out of the -wood and on the lawn, and in another instant I had reached my goal. - -Catching his arm, I exclaimed vehemently, forgetting everything in my -terror: - -"Don't go near that horrid wood, _Victor!_ Come back, as you value your -life!" - -I was too much terrified to await his reply; but, calling to him to -follow me, I ran on at the top of my speed, and never paused till I had -reached the terrace, and, sinking down on the stone steps, I covered my -face with my hands, panting and exhausted. Raising my head as I heard -his step beside me, I began: - -"You don't know how narrow an escape you have had! That"---- - -"You have made a mistake," interrupted my companion. "It is not -_Victor_." - -With an exclamation of amazement and chagrin, I sprung from him up the -steps. I had made a miserable mistake, indeed; it was Mr. Rutledge. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII. - - - "But 'mid his mirth, 'twas often strange - How suddenly his cheer would change, - His look o'ercast and lower-- - - Even so 'twas strange how, evermore, - Soon as the passing pang was o'er, - Forward he rushed, with double glee, - Into the stream of revelry." - -SCOTT. - - -The _fete champetre_ proved a success; it was a perfect day; the house, -a very fine modern one, and the grounds, had appeared to the best -advantage; the dancing tent had been just full enough, the toilettes -lovely, and the whole thing so well got up and successful, that -Josephine began half to repent not having decided upon such an -entertainment for the Fourth instead of the proposed masquerade. - -"This is just the place for a fete," she said, as we were all sitting in -the parlor next morning "talking it over." "This lawn is twice the size -of the Emersons', and this piazza, inclosed and decorated, would be the -prettiest thing in the world. Indeed, there is no doubt in my mind but -that it would have been an infinitely handsomer affair than theirs, if -we had decided upon a _fete_." - -"It would not have been dignified, Miss Josephine," said Mr. Rutledge, -with a smile, "to have followed so closely in their steps, and I do not -think we need have any fears for the masquerade." - -"Not the smallest," said Mrs. Churchill. "With Mr. Rutledge as leader, -and Josephine as aid-de-camp, I am certain there is no such word as -fail. This absurd child," she continued, bending gracefully over her -pretty daughter, "this absurd child, Mr. Rutledge, enters so with all -her heart into whatever she undertakes, that I have to laugh at her -continually. She can think of nothing now, but this masquerade, and only -this morning"---- - -"Now, mamma!" remonstrated Josephine. - -"Only this morning," her mother went on, "she said to me, 'I was so -worried, mamma, I couldn't sleep last night, for Mr. Rutledge has -trusted to my taste about the decorations, and if he should be -disappointed, I should be perfectly miserable.' Did you ever hear of -anything so silly?" she continued, with a light caress. - -"Never," said Mr. Rutledge, looking admiringly at Josephine's averted -conscious face. "Am I so very terrible, then?" - -"No," said Josephine with a pretty shyness, "oh no! but then, you -know--you see--I should be so sorry to disappoint or displease you. I -know you wouldn't say a word, but I should be perfectly miserable if you -were not pleased." - -"Where are you going, Phil?" asked Grace, as her cousin strode out into -the hall. - -"Anywhere, Gracie," I heard him say, under his breath. "It doesn't make -much difference where." - -Poor Phil! There was a sharp pain at his honest heart, I knew. I watched -him from the window, as with hasty strides he crossed the lawn, and -disappeared into the woods. But Josephine didn't see; Mr. Rutledge was -sketching a plan for the decorations, and she was leaning over the paper -with fixed attention. - -"If those people are coming to lunch," said Ella Wynkar, getting up from -a tete-a-tete chat with the captain, "it is time we were dressed to -receive them. Come, Josephine, it would never be forgiven, if we should -not be ready." - -"Yes," exclaimed Mr. Rutledge, starting up and looking at his watch, "I -had forgotten about that. They will be here in half an hour. Miss -Josephine, did you ever effect your toilet in half an hour, in your -life?" - -"You shall see!" cried Josephine, dancing out of the room. Mrs. -Churchill followed, with a laughing apology for her daughter's wild -spirits; since she had been at this delightful place, she had, she -declared, been like a bird let loose. - - "The linnet born within the cage, - That never knew the summer woods," - -I longed to say to my aunt, would hardly know how to enjoy them. The -miserable prisoner that had spent all its life, in narrow cramped -limits, on the sill of a city window, hopped on a smooth perch, and -eaten canary-seed and loaf-sugar since its nativity, would hardly be at -home in wide, sunny fields, or "groves deep and high," would shudder to -clasp with its tender claws the rough bark of the forest twigs, and -would be doubtful of the flavor of a wild strawberry, and think twice -before it would stoop to drink of the roaring mountain-stream. It would, -I fancy, before nightfall, creep miserably back to its cage, as the -fittest, safest, most comfortable place for its narrowed and timid -nature. - -"So!" said Victor, looking at me with a curl on his handsome lip, as the -drawing-room was vacated by all but ourselves. "Are you going to spend -an hour of this splendid fresh morning in making yourself fine?" - -"Not if I know myself intimately!" I exclaimed, cramming my work, -thimble, and scissors into my workbox, and springing up. "I do not fancy -devoting three hours to those tiresome Mason girls nor their -horse-and-dog brothers. I shall never be missed, and I am going to the -village for a walk." - -"Why to the village?" said Victor, following me, and reaching down my -flat hat from the deer's horns that it had been decorating in the hall. -"Why will you not come to the lake and let me row you up to the pines?" - -"I ought to have paid my devoirs to the housekeeper at the Parsonage the -very day I arrived," I answered, as we descended the steps. "She is a -great friend of mine, and she will be hurt if I neglect her any longer. -Indeed, it's a very pleasant walk, and you'll be repaid for taking it, -if we should find Mr. Shenstone at home. He is so kind, and the very -best man in the world." - -"That's the clergyman?" said Victor, making a grimace. "I don't affect -clergymen, as a general thing, but for your sake I will try to be -favorably impressed; your friends I always try to admire; our host, for -instance, who just passed down the terrace, without so much as a look -toward us, though he could not possibly have avoided seeing us. Why do -you bite your lip?" continued he, watching me narrowly. "I cannot learn -the signs of your face. Pale and red, smiling and frowning, like any -April day. There! what chord have I touched now? The thought gave you -actual pain." - -"Nothing!" I exclaimed, hurriedly. "There's Stephen on the lawn. I want -to talk to him," and I ran across to where he stood, leaning on his -rake, watching us. While I talked to him, Victor threw himself upon the -heap of new-cut hay at a little distance from us, and played with Tigre. -I saw that Stephen's eyes often wandered to where he lay, his hat off, -the wind lifting the dark hair from his handsome face. - -"If I might make so bold," said Stephen, in a low tone, as I was turning -away, "has that young gentleman lived long in this country?" - -"I do not know, really," I said, with a laugh. "Shall I ask him, -Stephen?" - -"No, Miss, I shouldn't like you to ask him; but I should like to know." - -"I'll find out for you sometime," I said, as I nodded a good bye and -rejoined Victor. - -It was, as he said, a splendid day--all sultriness dissipated by the -strong wind. We had a beautiful walk through the woods, though I -couldn't quite forget "our rustic friend," as Victor called his unknown -enemy; but he made such a joke of it that it was impossible to have much -feeling of alarm connected with it. The village, however, he seemed not -to care to visit. - -"Had I not better wait for you here?" he said, lingering as we passed -out of the woods into the lane that led to the village. - -"No, indeed," I said, perversely; "if you stay here I shall go home -another way." - -He laughed, but rather uneasily, and followed me. - -I bent my head so that my hat hid my face as we entered the low gate of -the Parsonage, for I dreaded Victor's inquiring eyes just then. I -preceded him down the little path bordered with flowers, and, stepping -on the porch, raised the knocker. We waited for several minutes, and -still no answer; so, telling my companion to follow me, I passed on into -the study. - -"What a cool, shady, pleasant room!" said Victor, as he gave me a seat -and threw himself into another. "I am sure I could write a sermon myself -against the pomps and vanities if I had such a sweet, calm retreat to -repose in meantime." - -"Pshaw!" he exclaimed impatiently, "what do these men know of -temptation, who have never felt a passion stronger than this summer -wind, nor seen a rood beyond their own study windows! These calm, slow -natures, bred in the retirement and quiet of the country, can preach, -perhaps with profit, to their humble flocks; but to men who have been in -the thick of the fight, never." - -I shook my head. "You will not say that after you have seen Mr. -Shenstone; but here he comes." - -The clergyman stood for a moment in the doorway before he entered, his -tall, stooping figure nearly filling it. I advanced to meet him, and -Victor rose. The room was so dark that at first he did not recognize me, -and, of course, saw but indistinctly my companion. But as I spoke, he -extended his hand cordially, and gave us both a kind reception. - -"I have been expecting a visit from you," he said, sitting down beside -me, and speaking in the quiet tone that was habitual with him, and -looking at me with his kind smile. "You have been here some days, have -you not?" - -"Yes, sir, and I've meant to come; but there has been something going on -every day that has interfered, and I have supposed every day, sir, that -you would be there." - -"Ah!" he said, with the slightest perceptible fading of the smile, "I -have been so long out of gay company that I should not be at home there -now. The quiet of my little village suits me best." - -I knew this would be a confirmation of Victor's judgment, so I hurried -on to say, "But, sir, you sometimes go among gay people. I am sure you -are often at Windy Hill, and at the Emersons, are you not?" - -"Sometimes--oh! yes; but it seems different with Rutledge. It would be -to me," he went on in a lower tone, "unspeakably grating and painful to -see that place throw off the gloom and silence that it has worn for -twenty years--twenty years and more. But you cannot be expected to -understand this. I had forgotten you were nearly a child as yet. You -only know regret and sorrow by name, I suppose." - -There must have been an involuntary denial of this on my face, for he -looked at me attentively for a moment; then, in a tone that had a little -sadness in it, he said: - -"But you are older than you were last fall, my child, I see; one takes -quick strides sometimes toward maturity after one has crossed the -threshold. This little girl and I, Mr. Viennet, were very good friends -last year and I hope that the world has not separated us quite, though -it has changed one of us a little, I fear." - -I could not keep back the sudden tears that rushed into my eyes; the -tone of sympathy so strange to my ears exorcised the evil tempers that -had swayed me so long. If it had not been for Victor's presence, I -should have thrown off the reserve and silence that I had so long -maintained toward all around me, and have saved myself perhaps from -years of misery. - -Only Mr. Shenstone's compassionate eyes saw the emotion that flashed -through mine; murmuring some excuse about finding Mrs. Arnold, I quitted -the room. I found her in the apartment that had been my sick-room, busy -as ever with her silent, rapid needle. Throwing my arms around her neck, -I kissed her affectionately. - -"Why have you not been before?" she said, quietly. - -"Because I haven't done anything right or pleasant since I came," I -returned, with a little bitterness. - -Mrs. Arnold shook her head. "Mr. Shenstone would tell you not to let -that go on." - -"Don't!" I exclaimed, with an impatient gesture; "don't tell me what I -ought to do--don't talk to me about my duty. I am sick and tired of it -all. I want to forget all about everything that makes me miserable, and -only be petted and made much of," and, throwing myself down on a low -stool at her feet, I drew her hand around my neck. - -"You were always willful," she said, sadly; "but you used to like to -hear about your duty." - -"I don't now; I've got over that. I shall never come to the Parsonage if -you talk to me about it. We don't have time for duty at Rutledge -now-a-days. Oh! Mrs. Arnold, it seems like a different place. Why don't -you come and see how fine the house looks. There's to be a masquerade on -the Fourth. You should come and see how beautifully it will be -decorated, and how pretty all our dresses will be." - -The hand around my neck was quickly withdrawn; with a sudden start, she -rose and walked nervously about the room, the color fluttering in her -cheeks, and her hand passing rapidly over her smooth, grey hair. - -"Yes, yes," she said at last, sitting down and trying to command -herself. "I know it is all right; you are young and you ought to enjoy -yourself. I hope you are happy there." - -"You need not imagine that I am!" I exclaimed bitterly. "You may be sure -I have enough to keep me down, and make me wretched, gay as they all -are. But I'm not going to talk about it," I said, interrupting myself, -"for you'll begin to tell me how I ought to bear it, and that I can't -listen to now. Tell me how the school goes on. Does the new teacher work -well, and do the children like her?" - -"Very much," said Mrs. Arnold, relapsing slowly into her ordinary -manner. "I should like you to go with me some day to see them." - -The archives of the Parish School, and many minor matters of interest, -served to occupy our tongues, if not our minds, for the next half hour, -and it was only the sudden recollection of having left Mr. Shenstone and -Victor, two entire strangers, at each other's mercy, that brought an end -to the interview. Starting up, I said: - -"It is time for me to go. Come down, Mrs. Arnold, and see whether you -think Mr. Viennet as handsome as Kitty does." - -She very reluctantly followed me downstairs, and waited in the porch to -see us, and say good bye as we should pass out. - -I found Victor and Mr. Shenstone talking. Victor, it seemed to me, -treated his entertainer with several degrees more of reverence than I -had imagined he could either feel or affect toward any one. Mr. -Shenstone's manner was rather less tranquil than ordinary, though, it -struck me. He accompanied us to the door, and looked very earnestly at -Victor as we came into the stronger light. - -"I shall hope for the pleasure of another visit before you leave the -country, Mr. Viennet," he said slowly, as we parted at the threshold. - -"I shall not fail to do myself the honor," returned Victor, in a manner -less French, and more sincere than usual, bowing very low. - -"Isn't he handsome?" I whispered, in a careless aside to Mrs. Arnold, as -we passed her on the porch. But to my surprise, she had started back, -with the same dilated, agitated look in her eyes, that she had worn -upstairs, and the fluttering color coming and going on her face as she -watched Victor, while her pale lips opened, but no sound passed them. I -stared in wonder, but she drew back hastily, and disappeared in the -house. - -"You will have a pleasant walk," said Mr. Shenstone, thoughtfully, as he -watched us down the path. - -"I'm afraid not," muttered Victor, between his teeth, as at the gate Dr. -Hugh joined us with a most affable bow. He proposed to accompany us on -our way, he said, if agreeable to us. He was going as far as the Park, -to see that delicate-looking young Mr. Wynkar, to whom he had just been -summoned. - -"Over-eaten himself, no doubt," said Victor, impatiently, - -"Ah?" said the doctor, nodding intelligently, "is that his trouble? I -fancied as much. Your pale, cadaverous-looking people generally are the -very mischief among the provisions." - -Victor's lip curled; I could see he chafed under this familiarity. Why -does he endure it, I thought. His imperious temper brooks no annoyance -from those around him; daily there is some new evidence of his self-will -and determination; why does he so tamely submit to what, there wants no -penetration to see, is galling him to distraction. - -It was almost impossible to realize that this was my gay, sparkling -companion of an hour ago. Pale and abstracted he walked beside me, -answering, at random, the doctor's many questions--gnawing his lip at -the occasional familiarities of his manner, but offering no affront or -slight. - -Our constrained and uncomfortable walk brought us to the house just as -the Masons were getting into their carriage. The whole party stood on -the piazza, and the approach for us was anything but a pleasant thing. - -"Courage," whispered Victor, seeing me falter as every eye turned toward -us. "Be as queenly as you can. You had a right to go; there was no -intimation given you that there was to be company at lunch. It would be -cowardly indeed to mind _their_ slights." - -Victor had touched the right chord; the color flashed back into my -cheeks, and with as queenly a step as he could have desired, I advanced -to meet the strangers. - -"You must excuse my cousin," cried Grace, interrupting our rather formal -greetings. "She never allows anything to interfere with her rural -tastes, and as she is addicted to tete-a-tete rows and lonely rambles, -we are quite cut off from her society." - -The Misses Mason looked at me as if they were afraid of me, the Messrs. -Mason as if they would have been, if they had not been such brave men. I -do not know exactly what I said, it was all a kind of dream, I was so -intensely worked up; but whatever my answer was, it must have been -clever, and a good retort, for Victor's clear laugh rang in the air, and -the young ladies tittered, and looked at Grace to see how she bore it, -and the least ponderous of the two young gentlemen slapped the captain -on the back with a low: - -"By George! She's not to be put down! I like her spirit." - -A month ago, perhaps, the interview that I had to go through with my -aunt after the departure of the guests, would have made me quite -miserable; but now, it was utterly powerless. We were openly at war, and -no hostile message could alter the state of affairs. I could have -laughed in her face, for all the impression that it made on me, but of -course I preserved the external respect I owed her, and neither by look -nor word betrayed how indifferent a matter it was to me whether she -approved or dissented. - -"A word with you, my friend," I heard the doctor say to Victor, passing -his arm through his and leading him off toward the terrace. Victor set -his lips firmly together, and his face darkened; there was a storm -brewing; the wily doctor was going too far, if he did not wish to feel -the wrath of it. For half an hour, I watched them from my window; they -had gone to a retired walk in the shrubbery, where only at a certain -turn I could catch sight of them. Victor's face, whenever I could see -it, was white and passionate, and his gestures showed that he had dashed -aside the restraint he had set upon himself. His was not an impotent and -childish anger either; it was the strong wrath of a strong man, snared -and trapped, exasperated and tortured by an enemy wily and powerful, -with some secret hold upon his victim, that gave his weakness and -meanness the strength of a giant. I watched, fascinated and terrified, -for every glimpse of the two faces, as the two men strode up and down -the alley. If Victor's tormentor had seen his face as I did, surely he -would have paused. How could confidence and pride so blind a man as to -make him insensible to the danger of rousing to such a pitch, such a -fierce southern nature? They had blinded him, however, for Dr. Hugh's -face expressed nothing but cunning and triumph, guarded and subdued by -habitual self-control. - -That night, as we were separating for our rooms, Victor announced -carelessly that his pleasant visit was nearly at an end. He had that day -received letters that made it necessary for him to sail in next week's -steamer, and he should have to tear himself away from Rutledge in a day -or two. The color went and came in my face as I met Mr. Rutledge's eye; -Victor studiously avoided looking at me, and the others were too much -absorbed in the announcement to heed me. - -"Why, Victor!" exclaimed Phil, heartily, stung perhaps with some slight -self-reproach for his recent neglect; "why, old fellow, we shan't know -what to do without you! It's a shame to break up a pleasant party like -this. Make it the next steamer, and stay over another week, and we'll -all go together." - -"Do, I beg of you, Victor," echoed Ellerton. - -"And you couldn't go without that day's woodcock shooting we've been -talking of," said the captain. "The law's up next week, you know." - -"And you've forgotten the masquerade!" exclaimed Josephine. - -"And the Masons' tableaux!" cried Ella. - -"And my cousin's feelings," added Grace, slily. - -"And what of your own, my pretty Miss Grace?" said Victor, carrying the -war so abruptly over into her territory that she had no time to collect -her wits for a retort. "My own heart is broken at the idea of leaving -you. Are you perfectly unmoved at the sight of my sorrow? I shall never -believe in woman again." - -"I do not know," said Mr. Rutledge, "what other inducements we can hold -out of sufficient power to detain Mr. Viennet longer. If there is -anything so imperative as he suggests, however, I imagine that our -persuasions will be thrown away." - -"Quite thrown away, sir, I regret to admit," said Victor, with a low and -significant bow. "I can enjoy your hospitality no longer than Wednesday -morning." - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII. - - - "And as the dove, to far Palmyra flying - From where her native founts of Antioch beam, - Weary, exhausted, longing, panting, sighing, - Lights sadly at the desert's bitter stream, - - "So many a soul, o'er life's drear desert faring, - Love's pure, congenial spring unfound, unquaffed, - Suffers--recoils--then, thirsty and despairing - Of what it would, descends, and sips the nearest draught." - - -"You are cruel," said Victor, in a low tone, as I followed the rest of -the party into the library after dinner. "This is my last day, and you -will not give me a moment." - -"Who's for a ride? Mr. Rutledge wants to know," said Grace, coming in -from the piazza. - -"Not I, for one," exclaimed Ella, throwing herself back on the sofa. -"I'm going to save myself for this evening." - -"And you, too, Josephine, dear," said her mother, "had better not tire -yourself any more. You will be perfectly fagged if you go to drive, and -you want to keep yourself fresh for the Masons." - -"Aren't you made of sterner stuff?" whispered Victor. "Aren't you equal -to a drive and a party in the same twenty-four hours? It is heavy work, -I know, but your constitution seems a good one." - -"I think I'll venture," I said, following Grace into the hall. "There's -Kitty on the stairs. Mr. Viennet, tell her to bring me my bonnet, -please." - -Kitty was only too glad to obey Mr. Viennet's orders at any time, and -she flew to get my things. - -"Get mine at the same time, young woman," drawled Grace. - -Before Kitty had returned from her double errand, the horses were at the -door. - -"Our friends, the bays," said Victor. "But I think our host means to -drive them himself. He has the reins in his hands." - -"Are these all your recruits, Miss Grace?" said Mr. Rutledge. - -"Yes. Josephine and Ella are afraid of their complexions, or their -tempers, or something, and won't come, and I can't find Captain McGuffy -or Phil." - -Victor stood ready to hand me into the carriage; I immediately took -possession of the back seat. - -"This is a very selfish arrangement," said Victor, discontentedly, as -Grace was about to follow me. "Miss Grace, you'd have a much better view -of the country up there beside Mr. Rutledge." - -"And Grace might drive," I added; "she's so fond of horses." - -"As you please," she said, with a shrug. "I only go for ballast yet -awhile, I know, and it's evident I'm not wanted here. Mr. Rutledge, do -_you_ want me?" - -"Miss Grace, my happiness will not be complete till you comply with Mr. -Viennet's disinterested suggestion;" and Grace mounted up beside him. - -I had undertaken, in that drive, more than I was quite equal to. I had -brought myself into the position that I had been avoiding all day, a -tete-a-tete of the most unequivocal kind with a man whose devotion it -was impossible to ignore, and I had gone too far to retract entirely. It -was cruel to treat him with coldness, now that we were on the eve of a -long separation, and to repel with indifference the tenderness that -shone in his eloquent eyes and faltered in his low tones. Our companions -left us entirely to ourselves; my awkward attempts to draw them into a -general conversation were all frustrated by Mr. Rutledge's cool -indifference, and Grace's cool impertinence. - -The only time that Mr. Rutledge addressed a single remark voluntarily to -me, was on our way home. We had driven around by Norbury, and were -returning by way of the post-office. Suddenly drawing the reins, Mr. -Rutledge stopped for an instant on the brow of the hill. - -"Do you remember this?" he said, abruptly, turning to me, and fixing his -eyes on my face. - -Remember it? My cheek was crimson with the recollection then; the scene -would never fade but with life and memory. It was just here, that, in -the glow of the autumn sunset, he and I had parted on that -ever-to-be-remembered evening, when my willfulness had led me into such -danger. Hemlock Hollow lay dark and dense below us. Far off at the left, -the mill and bridge that had served as a landmark then, gleamed in the -setting sun. The forest foliage was greener and thicker now, but the -picture was the same; I could never have got it out of my memory if I -had tried; and yet, when Mr. Rutledge asked me that sudden question, a -wicked lie, or as wicked a prevarication, rose to my lips. - -"Yes, I think I remember it. Didn't we go this way to the Emersons' the -day of the fete?" - -"I think we did--yes," said Mr. Rutledge, with an almost imperceptible -compression of the lips, as, bending forward, he startled the eager -horses with a galling lash of the whip. - -Grace was quite white with alarm as we reached the village. - -"Mr. Rutledge, why _do_ you drive so frightfully fast? I am terrified to -death." - -He drew the horses in a little, and, looking down at her, said: - -"Were we going fast? I am sorry I frightened you; for my part, I thought -we crept." - -He paused a moment at the Parsonage gate. Mrs. Arnold was in the garden; -Mr. Rutledge called out to her that he had brought Mr. Shenstone's -letters and papers, but had not time to stop to see him. She approached -the carriage, looking so lady-like and attractive, with her soft, white -hair smoothed plain under her neat cap, and her clinging dark dress, -that Victor said, involuntarily to me: - -"What an attractive-looking person! I never saw a gentler face." - -She was quite absorbed in attending to the message Mr. Rutledge left for -Mr. Shenstone, and in her retiring modesty I do not think she ventured a -look at us, till Victor, who had been watching her with interest, -addressed some remark to her. She raised her eyes at the sound of his -voice in a startled way, the same fluttering, frightened look -transformed her quiet features, and trying in vain to command herself, -she stammered some excuse, and turned away. - -"Strange!" exclaimed Victor, as we drove on. "Did you notice the odd way -in which that person looked at me, both now and the other day?" - -"It _is_ strange," said Mr. Rutledge, thoughtfully. "Can you account for -it in any way?" - -"In no way, sir. I do not think I ever enjoyed the happiness of meeting -her before I visited this neighborhood; and since my residence in it, I -cannot remember having done anything to have rendered myself at all an -object of interest to her." - -"Who's that bowing so graciously to you?" interrupted Grace. - -"Oh! Ellerton's medical adviser." - -"By the way, Mr. Viennet," said Mr. Rutledge, turning rather abruptly to -him, "the doctor tells me he is an old friend of yours." - -"Hardly a friend, if I understand the term aright," returned Victor, -changing color slightly. "I knew him when he was studying medicine in -the city two or three years ago. I lost sight of him entirely after -that, and the renewal of our acquaintance has been attended with more -zest on his part than on mine." - -"I believe he is rather apt to presume," said Mr. Rutledge, briefly, and -there the conversation dropped. - -We were rather a taciturn party for the remainder of the way. Tea was -waiting for us on our return, and after it, Grace and I had to make -quite a hurried toilet for the party, the others being already dressed. - -"Aunt Edith, be kind enough to let me accompany you," I said, hurriedly, -following her into the carriage, as we all stood, ready to start, on the -stone walk below the piazza. Victor, with a look of disappointment, -closed the door upon Mrs. Churchill, Grace, Ella, and myself. - -"Miss Josephine," I had heard Mr. Rutledge say, "it is such a lovely -night, you will surely not refuse to let me drive you. It will be -infinitely pleasanter than going in the carriage, I assure you." - -It was a very long and a very silent drive for the inmates of the -carriage, to Windy Hill; and when we arrived there, we found the -gentlemen of our party awaiting our coming with some impatience. The -curtain would be raised in a moment, Phil said; the tableaux had been -retarded as long as possible on our account. Where were Josephine and -Mr. Rutledge? - -"Echo answers where," said Grace. "Taking the longest way, you may be -sure, and making the most of this lovely moonlight." - -Mrs. Churchill did not seem very uneasy, and after a little consultation -in the dressing-room, it was decided that we should not wait for them, -but should all go down to the parlor. Accordingly we descended the -stairs and entered the room _en masse_. It was quite full, and as they -had only been waiting for our arrival, in a few moments the curtain -rose. - -The tableaux were very fine, no doubt; there were murmurs of applause -and exclamations of admiration from all the company. All were -enthusiastically received, and some were encored. I tried to attend, but -my recollection of them is only a confused jumble of convent and harem -scenes, trials of queenly personages, and signings of death warrants and -marriage contracts; Effie Deans, and Rebekah at the well, the eve of St. -Bartholomew, and the landing of the Pilgrims. I tried to attend, both to -the tableaux and to Victor's whispered conversation, but there was -"something on my mind" as Kitty would have said, too engrossing to allow -me to succeed. Do what I might, I still found myself listening eagerly -for the sound of carriage wheels outside. Victor noticed my abstracted -and nervous manner, and turned away at last with a half sigh. - -The curtain rose and fell many times, the audience admired, applauded -and encored, with untiring enthusiasm, the little French clock above me -on the mantelpiece, marked the departing minutes faithfully, and still -they did not come. This was as unlike Josephine as it was unlike Mr. -Rutledge. Something dreadful had happened, I was sure; something that -would make the memory of this night forever terrible, and what a -miserable mockery it was for us all to be laughing and talking so -thoughtlessly. Mrs. Churchill was anxious, I could see, but she tried -very faithfully to conceal it, and laughed and turned off all -conjectures about them with her usual skillful nonchalance. Phil had -walked the piazza as long as he could endure it, then throwing himself -upon his horse, had galloped off in the direction of Rutledge. - -At last the parlors were cleared of all the appurtenances of the -tableaux, and the dancing began. I was standing by a window -listening--oh, how eagerly!--for the sound of wheels, when Victor -approached me, and asked for the next dance. - -"Indeed you must excuse me, I cannot dance," I said almost impatiently, -"ask somebody else." - -The look with which he turned away would have cut me to the heart, if my -heart had not been too selfishly miserable to mind the pain of others. -He did not dance, but leaning against the window opposite gazed -abstractedly out. The gay music and merry voices grated perhaps as -cruelly on his mood as on mine. - -I never had had less the command of myself; the persons who came up to -talk to me, could make nothing of me; I could not talk, could not find a -word of answer to their questions. At length a gentleman who had been -standing near me for some minutes, said kindly: - -"These rooms are too warm for you, will you come on the piazza for a -little while?" - -I gave him a grateful look, and taking his arm, followed him out into -the fresh air. Several others were there before us, and accepting my -cicerone's offer of a seat, I leaned against the vine-covered pillar, -and looked intently down the road that led winding up from the lodge. My -companion evidently understood and pitied my anxiety and did not attempt -to make me talk. - -At last! there came a distant sound of wheels, and as they rapidly -neared the house, I involuntarily covered my face with my hands. What -might they bring? What news might I hear in another moment? - -"They are safe," said my companion, kindly. "Look, they are at the -door." - -I looked up. Josephine, with a light laugh, was springing up the steps. -Mr. Rutledge, who had thrown the reins to a servant, was following her. -Mrs. Churchill and a group of others hurried out to meet them. - -"My dear," she exclaimed hurriedly, "what has detained you? We have been -excessively worried about you." - -"Why, mamma," laughed the daughter, lightly kissing her mother's cheek, -"I knew you would scold, and I didn't mean to have been so naughty, but -you know it was such a sweet evening, and Mr. Rutledge said that wild -Hemlock Hollow looked so picturesque by moonlight, that we couldn't -resist the temptation of going that way, and after we had driven--oh! I -can't tell you how far--we suddenly came upon a huge old tree that had -fallen across the road, and over it of course we could not get, and the -woods were so dense on either side that it was impossible to get around -it, so the only thing left for us to do, was to turn, and make the best -of our way back." - -"I assure you, Mrs. Churchill," said Mr. Rutledge, "I am very much -annoyed at having caused you this anxiety. You will fancy me very -careless, but it was a contretemps I had never dreamed of." - -The whole party passed out of sight into the hall. A group who stood -near us and had been watching the scene, also moved on toward the door, -but as they turned away I caught the words from one of them: - -"It looks very much like it, and it will be an excellent thing on both -sides; but I never thought till lately, that he would marry." - -"Will you go in," said my companion. - -"Yes, if you please," and we followed the crowd. - -"Ah! you look like a different person," he said, smiling as we went into -the light. I saw as we passed a mirror that a bright spot was burning on -each cheek, and my eyes were shining unnaturally. "I could see you were -dreadfully anxious about your cousin, and indeed I could not wonder at -it." - -"For the last time," said Victor in a low tone at my side, "will you -dance with me?" - -I yielded, and in a moment we were on the floor. Not an instant after -that did I stop to think. If I had, my cheek would have paled to have -found at the mercy of what fierce hatred, resentment and jealousy, my -unguided soul then was, and whither they were hurrying me. To others, I -was only a gay young girl, revelling in her first flush of triumph, -thoughtless, innocent and happy. God help all such innocence and -happiness! - -It was the last dance; the carriage was already at the door. Mrs. -Churchill had limited us to five minutes; two or three were contending -for my hand. Victor had hung around me all the evening, and I caught a -gleam of his sad, expressive eyes. Josephine, on Mr. Rutledge's arm, -passed us at the moment. Turning toward Victor, I said to the others -with a smile, "Mr. Viennet says this will be his last dance in America. -I think I must give it to him." - -A flash of hope lighted up his handsome face. I trembled at what I had -done as I took my place among the dancers. The words that I knew I must -hear before we parted, I heard now. There was but a moment for the -recital, but it sufficed. Was it that such homage soothed my wounded -pride; or that, bewildered by this tempest of emotions, I had mistaken -gratitude for tenderness, kind regard for love? Whatever may have been -my motive or excuse, the fact remained the same. Before I parted with -Victor Viennet at the carriage door, I had accepted his love, and -promised myself to him irrevocably. - -How hot and still the night had grown! I leaned my forehead on the -carriage window to cool its burning. The horses seemed to creep over the -smooth road; I clenched my hands together to quiet their impatience. My -companions, leaning back on the cushions, slept or rested. This very -tranquillity maddened me, and, holding my breath lest they should know -how gaspingly it came, I wished and longed to be alone once more. I -could not, did not dare to think till there were bolts and bars between -me and the world. At last I caught sight of the welcome lights of -Rutledge, and almost before the deliberate horses had stopped in front -of the house, I burst open the carriage door, and flew up the steps. - -"Have the others got home yet?" I asked of Kitty eagerly. - -"No, Miss; but they'll be here in a minute. I see the lights of the -barouche just by the park gate." - -The other ladies paused in the parlor till the rest of the party should -arrive; for me, I never stopped till I was within the sanctuary of my -own room. - -"No matter for undressing me to-night," I said to Kitty, who had -followed me. "I can do all that is necessary for myself, and don't come -till I ring for you in the morning; I am so tired I shall want to rest." - -With a look of some disappointment she turned away, and I slid the bolt, -with a trembling hand, between me and the outer world. But not between -me and conscience, not between me and memory, not between me and -remorse. I had thought, when once I am alone, this misery will vent -itself in tears--this insufferable pain will yield to the relief of -solitude and quiet. But I did not know with what I had to deal. I did -not estimate what foes I had invoked--what remorse and regret were to be -my comrades through the slow hours of that night. - -With suicidal hand, it seemed to me, I had shut myself out forever from -peace, forever from all chance of happiness. Nothing now but misery: the -past, a sin and guilt to recall; the future, weariness but to imagine. -The promise I had given was to me as irrevocable and sacred as the -marriage vow itself; and self-reproach only riveted the fetters more -hopelessly, as I remembered the manly love of which I was so unworthy. -To draw back now, would but add perjury to my sins, and deal undeserved -misery to the man I had deceived. No, hypocrisy became a duty now; he -should never know the agony that I had wrestled with when I had first -looked my engagement in the face. He should never know how the first -hours of it had been blackened. But oh! plead repentance, I will bury -this hateful secret in my heart; I will only live to serve him; I will -make him happy; I will be a true and faithful wife. - -True? questioned a voice within me; and with a miserable groan I hid my -face, and owned that I must leave truth at the threshold of this new -relation. I must enter it with a dead love in my heart, a false vow on -my lips. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX. - - - "Alas! I have nor hope nor health, - Nor peace within nor calm around-- - * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * - I could lie down like a tired child, - And weep away the life of care - Which I have borne, and yet must bear - Till death, like sleep, might steal on me." - -SHELLEY. - - -"How late you have slept, Miss!" said Kitty, as she hurried up in answer -to my bell. "I have been expecting you would ring for the last hour. Did -you know, Miss, they are all at breakfast?" - -"It will not take me many minutes," I said, sitting down for her to -braid my hair. Kitty was in a desperate hurry this morning; her fingers -trembled so she could hardly manage the heavy braids. - -"The other young ladies are down some time ago," she said, with a sharp -look at me in the glass. "I suppose if they were tired, they would get -up this morning out of politeness to Mr. Viennet, as he goes away at -ten, and he might think rather hard of it if they didn't take the -trouble to come down in time to say good bye to him." - -Encouraged, perhaps, by the color that suffused my face, she went on: -"As for him, he's been up since daybreak, walking up and down the hall, -and on the piazza, and starting and changing color every time a door -opened or any one came on the stairs. I don't believe he wants to go -away very much." - -"Kitty, you are getting my hair too low; you're not thinking of what you -are about." - -Kitty blushed in her turn, and said nothing more, but hurried on my -toilet. It was soon completed. I would thankfully have delayed it, but -there was no longer anything to wait for, no longer the least excuse, -and, to Kitty's inexpressible relief, I turned to leave the room. Kitty -did not suspect with what a beating heart it was, though, and with what -a blur before my eyes. I hardly saw the familiar objects in the hall, -hardly distinguished a word in the hum of voices in the breakfast-room, -as I paused an instant at the threshold. But there was no time for -wavering now. I pushed open the door and entered. - -There was a momentary hush on my entrance: Phil made a place for me -beside him, saying: - -"It is something new for you to be late. Aren't you well?" - -"Dissipation doesn't agree with you, I fear," said Mrs. Churchill. "You -look quite pale this morning." - -"Mamma!" exclaimed Josephine, in a tone mock-confidential, just loud -enough for every one to hear. "That is unkind! Surely, you remember what -happens to-day!" - -"Come, come, that's not fair," said Phil. "I thought you were more -considerate, Joe. Let your cousin have her breakfast in peace." - -"Don't let me keep everybody waiting," I said, faintly. - -"Well, if you'll excuse us," exclaimed Josephine, starting up. "We have -all finished." Then with a wicked look, "Mr. Viennet, you've been -through your breakfast some time. Don't you want to take a farewell -promenade on the piazza?" - -Mr. Viennet bowed, and expressed his pleasure in rather a low voice. - -"Mr. Arbuthnot, you're not going to forsake me, are you?" I asked, as -the others rose. - -"Of course not," said Phil. "I am always your very good friend when -you'll allow me to be." - -Josephine little knew how much I thanked her for her manoeuvre; though -done from motives the least amiable, it was the kindest thing she could -have thought of. - -"Don't take that strong coffee," said Phil, noticing how my hand -trembled, and substituting for it a cup of tea; then putting everything -within my reach, he sent the servant away, and began reading the paper -himself. - -If Phil Arbuthnot should ever prove himself my worst enemy, I never -could forget the considerateness of that morning. He was tender-hearted -and kind as a woman, and great, strong man as he was, there was a -delicacy of feeling and gentleness about him, that suffered with -everything weak and suffering, and strove, at all costs, to give aid and -comfort. And aid and comfort, prompted by such a heart, could not fail -to soothe. In his eyes, women were sacred; their influence over him -unbounded. If he only had been thrown with those who could have elevated -and purified, instead of narrowing and lowering his nature, how noble -and large-hearted a man he might have been. He had sacrificed his -profession, his prospects in life, and all that elevates and nerves a -man, to his love for Josephine. How far she accepted it, how she meant -to requite it, there is no need to say. I think she liked him; I think -that she felt for him a tenderness that no one else could ever awaken in -her heart. He had been her lover ever since they were girl and boy -together, and in those young days, perhaps, she had fancied that the -happiest thing in the world, would be to marry Phil. But such sweet -romance had been scorched and shrivelled by the first breath of the -world. Josephine had renounced such folly early; she was wise and -prudent beyond her years, and she had been trained in a good school. -Some wondered that Mrs. Churchill could trust her daughter so constantly -with a man of as pleasing an address as Phil; cousins were so apt to -fancy each other. "I have perfect confidence in Josephine," said Mrs. -Churchill, proudly. It was not misplaced; Josephine Churchill might have -been trusted with Cupid in person, if he had not been a desirable -_parti_. - -"What time is it?" I asked of Phil, in a low tone, after I had -exhausted every device for prolonging my breakfast. - -"Five minutes to ten," he answered, looking at his watch. "Shall we take -a turn on the piazza, if you have finished?" - -I followed him to the piazza. "It is too sunny for you," he said, as I -screened my aching eyes from the light. "The parlor is pleasanter." - -Ella was at the piano, playing some light air (very light, indeed, for -the piano was not her forte), and chatting with Capt. McGuffy, who hung -over her. Mrs. Churchill, Josephine, Grace, Ellerton, Victor and Mr. -Rutledge were at the other end of the room. - -"We shall miss you so much, Mr. Viennet," Josephine was saying, in a -very charming tone. "Your place cannot be filled. Mr. Rutledge, cannot -you manage to have him arrive at the station a few minutes too late?" - -"Why didn't you suggest it a little sooner, Miss Josephine?" said Mr. -Rutledge, with a smile, as he looked at his watch. "I think I hear the -horses at the door now. Thomas will attend to your baggage--don't -trouble yourself, Mr. Viennet." - -"It is all ready, sir; I have nothing to do but make my adieux, and such -painful work had better be short. Mrs. Churchill, I have many pleasures -to remember during my residence in America, but none so great as those -for which I am indebted to you. Will you accept my sincere thanks?" - -I had not dared before to look at him, but I stole a glance at his face -now. It was deadly pale, and showed but too plainly the pain and -disappointment that he was trying to conceal. - -The whole party now gathered round him; his parting with Josephine was -very courteous, on her part very gracious; with Grace the same; a little -less warm with Miss Wynkar, perhaps; but no one cared to revive old -quarrels now. When he approached me, I gave him my hand, but my eyes -were fastened on the ground. He held it for one instant, then dropping -it, turned hastily away. - -"Mr. Rutledge," he said, in a voice that trembled audibly, despite his -manly efforts to control it, "I have to thank you for your hospitality. -I shall not soon forget my visit here." - -Mr. Rutledge's manner had less coldness than usual in it, as he bade his -young guest good bye; there was no lack of warmth in the adieux of the -other gentlemen. - -And I, cruel and cowardly, stood rooted to the floor; I was afraid to -acknowledge what I had not been afraid to promise; I was letting him go -without a word of kindness, when I might never see him again; when I -was, in the sight of heaven, affianced to him, when nothing could -absolve me from my vow, shrink and falter as I might. He had reached the -hall, and stood for an instant in the doorway as I raised my eyes. They -met his; I sprang forward from the circle where I stood. - -"Victor, I am not afraid they should know it now," I whispered, putting -my hand in his. - -I only knew the misery I had caused him, when I saw the change that came -into his face, the light that hope lit in his eyes. He had but short -grace to tell his love--a few brief minutes before we parted, perhaps -for many years, yet nothing could have made me more certain of the depth -and ardor of it, than those few moments did. - -We walked once down the hall, then slowly back again, - -"You must go now," I whispered, as we reached the door. "Good bye!" - -For a moment he stood as if it were an effort rending soul and body to -leave me; he held my hands tightly in his own, then, bending forward, -pressed a kiss on my forehead, and was gone. - -It was the seal of our engagement, that first kiss; I stood in the sight -of what was all the world to me, tacitly acknowledging what I had done. -I was parting from the lover to whom they all fancied I was devoted, but -it was shame, and not love, that brought the blood into my cheeks to -meet his first caress. I did not move or raise my eyes till the sound of -carriage-wheels died away down the avenue. Then the treacherous color -receded slowly from my face, and left it white as marble. Conquering as -best I might the giddy faintness that came over me, I walked steadily -into the parlor, where the whispering and amazed group of ladies still -stood. Not heeding Josephine's, "Well, my dear, we weren't quite -prepared for this! We didn't know how far things had gone," I went up to -Mrs. Churchill and said: - -"I should have told you of this before, Aunt Edith. I have accepted Mr. -Viennet." - -"I should have been gratified by your confidence if you had chosen to -bestow it. However, you have my congratulations," and she gave me her -hand, and touched her lips lightly to my forehead. - -"I suppose we must all congratulate you," said Grace, with a laugh. -"But, really, it took _me_ so entirely by surprise, that I shan't be -able to collect my wits for an appropriate speech under two hours." - -"I will excuse you from it altogether," I said, turning away to the -door. I stopped involuntarily as I passed Josephine. - -"If it is a matter of congratulation at all, I hope I have yours, -Josephine," I said, holding out my hand. - -"Of course," she returned, awkwardly, accepting my hand. "Of course you -have." - -I looked at her for a moment; it was so strange that I should be so -miserable and she so blessed. We, "two daughters of one race"--the same -blood flowing in our veins--the same woman's heart beating in our -bosoms--why was it that I was forbidden every good, tempted of the -devil, driven into evil, and she, unfeeling and light-hearted, smiled -down at me from her secure height of happiness, wore carelessly the love -that I would have died to win, played thoughtlessly with it in my -jealous sight, and made a jest of what was life and death to me. - -She did not understand my strange and wistful look, and, with a -smothered sigh, I withdrew my gaze, and turned away. Perhaps her mother -could have interpreted it better; perhaps, if she had chosen, she could -have told her daughter I was not the happy fiancee I seemed; and -perhaps, if she had chosen, she could have told her to whom I owed the -greater part of what I suffered. - -I mounted the stairs with a slow and heavy step; Mr. Rutledge passed me -coming down. He did not raise his eyes nor look at me, but in the glance -I had of his face it seemed to me darker and moodier than ever, and his -step heavier and more decided. He went toward the stables, and in a few -minutes I heard his horse's hoofs clattering down the avenue. - -If my head had ached twice as madly as it did, I should not have dared -to stay away from dinner. As I entered the dining-room, it was with -rather a doubtful feeling of relief that I found only ladies there. The -presence of the gentlemen always proved something of a restraint upon -the vivacious tongue of Grace, and Josephine was never in a good humor -when there was no one upon whom to exercise her charms. Indeed, the -whole table presented a significant contrast to its usual animation. -Toilettes had been deferred till evening, I found. Josephine and Ella -took no pains to conceal their ennui, and Grace revelled in -impertinence. The gentlemen--_i.e._ Phil, Captain McGuffy, and -Ellerton--were shooting woodcock, and Mr. Rutledge had gone off on -business, and it was possible, he had left word, that he might not -return till late. - -"Let's have a glorious nap," said Josephine, as we left the table. "It -will be time enough to dress just before tea-time. They will none of -them be back sooner than eight o'clock." - -Ella had been asleep all the morning, but she never objected to a nap; -indeed, I believe sleeping was, next to the pleasure of dressing -herself, the principal _divertissement_ of her life. Josephine and Ella -went to their rooms, Mrs. Churchill followed them upstairs, Grace ran -off to find "old Roberts" and get the key of the locked-up bookcases in -the library, and I was left to myself. - -It was a hot and sultry afternoon; not a breath moved the motionless -leaves in the park, not a ripple stirred the lake; the insects hummed -drowsily in the hot, hazy air, the declining sun abated neither heat nor -power as he neared the horizon, but glared steadily upon the still -parched earth. Too languid and miserable to find a cooler place, I sat -on the piazza hour after hour, and watched listlessly the -slowly-declining sun, the inanimate and sultry landscape. - -Even nightfall brought no relief. The sun withdrew his light, it is -true; but the sultriness that his reign had bred continued to brood over -the earth; no dew refreshed it, no moisture wet the thirsty flowers. The -stars, faint and dim, hardly shed a ray of light through the thick air. -It was a night that, superstition and presentiment whispered, would -prompt dark deeds. Under cover of its weird-like gloom, treachery and -murder would steal abroad, and black sins would stain the souls of some -of the sons of men before the light of day renewed the face of the -earth. - -None of us could help feeling the influence of it; dispirited and -languid, the whole party dragged through the evening with an unwonted -lack of vivacity. Music and dancing failed; the gentlemen pleaded -fatigue, and the ladies were very ready to accept the excuse, and at an -early hour we separated to our rooms. But I dreaded mine; I dreaded the -sleepless hours that I must count before the dawning. - -Once that night I slept, but it was a short sleep, and worse than -waking. The nightmare of my fate was less horrible than the nightmare of -my fancy, and, shuddering with terror, I paced the floor to drive away -the chance of its recurrence; I pressed my clenched fingers tightly on -my breast to drive away the chill of that Phantom Hand, that had frozen -my very soul. - -Why had that long-forgotten terror come back to haunt me now? - - - - -CHAPTER XXX. - - - "Death is King--and _Vivat Rex!_"--TENNYSON. - - -It was late on the following morning when I entered the breakfast-room; -very fluttering and nervous, I anticipated the usual allusions to my -pale looks, and Grace's amiable bantering, but quite a different scene -from the one I had expected met me. Too much absorbed to notice my -entrance, the whole group were clustered together, intent upon the -newly-arrived paper. They had evidently devoured it, and now were -commenting eagerly upon the news it contained, and referring constantly -to it. Only Mr. Rutledge, with knit brow, leaning forward on the table, -seemed to note my entrance. - -"I never heard a more cool-blooded, revolting thing," said Phil. - -"I suppose the whole country is alive with it now," remarked the -captain. "The wretch can hardly escape detection, thanks to the -telegraph, railroads, and police of this nineteenth century. The news, -no doubt, has spread far and wide by this time." - -"It will haunt me till the day of my death!" exclaimed Josephine. "I -never read so horrible a murder." - -"Oh," said Grace, coolly, "it's only because we knew him that it seems -so dreadful. There are just as awful things in the paper every day." - -"There has never been anything in this part of the country though, I -fancy, that has caused as much excitement," said Phil. "Thomas tells me -that the furore in the village is intense; the men do not think of going -to their work, but stand in groups about, while most of them have -formed themselves into a sort of vigilance committee, and swear that the -murderer shall be tracked. The poor doctor, you know, was quite a -popular man, and such a thing as this is so unheard of, that the -country-people are entirely beside themselves about it." - -"What is it you are talking about?" I faltered, leaning on the back of a -chair for support, and trying to be self-possessed. - -"Oh! Why, have you just come down?" exclaimed Grace, delighted to find a -fresh auditor for the awful tale that she seemed really to enjoy -relating. "Why, you must know that last night, a man coming from -Norbury, late in the evening, discovered the body of Dr. Hugh lying at -the entrance of a wood about four miles from the village, stabbed in -four or five places, and quite cold. His horse and gig were tied to a -tree close by, and the footprints on the ground beside where the body -was found, show that the poor wretch did not yield to his murderer -without a desperate struggle. His hands were"---- - -"You are making it unnecessarily horrible," said Mr. Rutledge, sternly, -and starting forward, placed a chair for me, and poured out a glass of -water. - -"Why, she's going to faint!" exclaimed Ella Wynkar, staring at me with -her dull, blue eyes, while Mrs. Churchill came forward ejaculating, - -"What is the matter? Are you ill?" - -"It is not at all strange that she should be shocked at hearing such a -thing so suddenly," answered Mr. Rutledge for me. "You must remember, -Miss Grace, we all had it more gradually: first my suspicions, then -Thomas' report, then the morning paper; which is very different from -hearing it all at a breath, and without any warning." - -Mr. Rutledge tried to divert them from the theme, and save me from the -faintness which his quick eye detected at each new disclosure or -conjecture, but in vain. Nothing else could be thought or spoken of. How -the murderer should be hunted down, what blood-thirsty and revengeful -men were already on the track, how impossible was his escape; these were -the pleasant topics of the morning Within those two hours I learned more -self-command than all my previous life had taught me, for I had an awful -dread at my heart, and I had to listen to these things, as if I were -very indifferent to them. - -Phil said, for the honor of the county, he supposed, Mr. Rutledge would -do all in his power to ferret the thing out; and Mr. Rutledge rather -reluctantly assented, and said he supposed it was his duty. - -"And," added the captain, "from what you've said of some slight clue you -thought you had to guide you, I suppose you may be of great service, and -it's every man's duty to bring the perpetrator of such a deed to -justice. By Jove! I wish I could help it along!" - -"I suppose you are right," said Mr. Rutledge, with a sigh. "I am going -to ride over to the court-house now. Thomas, has my horse been brought -around?" - -"He is at the door now, sir," said Thomas. - -Mr. Rutledge, with a brief good-morning, left the room, and after a -moment in the library, repassed the dining-room door with his -riding-whip and hat in his hand. - -I listened to his retreating footsteps in a kind of nightmare; I must -speak to him before he started on his cruel errand; I must speak, and -yet a spell sealed my lips, a horrible tyranny chained me motionless. -That clue--what did it mean?--why did he look at me so strangely?--I -knew but too well. I heard him pass down the hall slowly and pause at -the door; in another moment he would be gone. I started from the room. - -"Mr. Rutledge!" - -He turned as I stood before him, white and trembling. - -"What is it?" he said, regarding me with a kind of compassion. "What do -you want to say?" - -"I want to say--I want to ask you if you have no pity--if you have the -cruelty to want another murder--if there is not blood enough already -shed. Don't listen to what those men tell you," I hurried on, "don't -believe them, when they say it is your duty. It is not! It is your duty -to be merciful. It is your duty to leave vengeance to God. It is your -duty to leave the miserable and the sinful to His justice, and not to -hurry them before man's!" - -He looked down at me with a pity in his eyes that was almost divine. -"You need not fear me," he said, turning from me; and descending the -steps mounted his horse and rode slowly away. - - * * * * * - -"There are a few things," I overheard Kitty say to Frances outside my -door, "in which I should be glad if my young lady was more like yours. -Now there must be some comfort in dressing Miss Josephine, she cares -about things; but all my work is thrown away, sometimes I think. My -young lady has no heart for anything, never looks in the glass after -I've taken all the pains in the world with her, and is just as likely to -throw herself on the bed after her hair is fixed for dinner, as if she -had a nightcap on. For the last two days," Kitty went on in a low tone, -for Frances and she were very good friends now, "for the last two days -she has been so miserable, it makes my heart ache to see her. And as for -the masquerade to-night! she don't care _that_ for it. I've worked my -fingers to the bone to get her dress ready, and like as not, she won't -stay downstairs ten minutes after she gets it on. The whole house is -thinking about nothing else, everybody is in such spirits about it, the -young ladies are just crazy with their dresses and the fun they're going -to have, while she, poor young thing, hardly knows or cares what she's -to wear, and stays moping in her room all day by herself." - -"It's a hard thing to have one's young man away," said Frances in her -soft voice, and with a little sigh that told she knew just how hard it -was. Kitty didn't answer. I was afraid she would, and would tell her -how inexplicable she found her mistress's moods. But Kitty was true to -me, though she did love a little gossip, and let my _douleur_ pass for -what she very shrewdly suspected it was not, and soon reverted to the -all-absorbing subject of the masquerade. - -"Would you ever know the house!" she said, looking admiringly up and -down the hall. "And doesn't the piazza look beautiful, and the hall. And -just think how all those colored lamps will look when they're lighted. -Really, I can't think what's got into master to take all this trouble, -and turn the house inside out, to please a lot of young ladies that he -doesn't care a straw for!" - -Frances opened her eyes as if this were heresy. Kitty went on with -energy: "Miss Josephine Churchill needn't flatter herself that she's -ever going to be more at home at Rutledge than she is now. I don't know -a great deal, but I know enough to know that." - -"And I could tell you something perhaps," said Frances, "that might make -you change your mind." - -"I'd like to hear it!" - -"Oh, but it wouldn't be right. I never talk about my young lady's -secrets." - -"But you might tell _me_," urged Kitty, artfully, "I've been so open -with you." - -"Come down to the laundry then, while I press out these flounces," and -the two maids flitted downstairs to whisper over the secrets that their -respective mistresses had fondly fancied were buried in the recesses of -their own hearts. - -And so each way I turned, there was a new dagger to stab me. No wonder -that as Kitty said, I had no heart for anything, and only longed to be -away and be at rest. Anxiety was added to the remorse and regret that I -had first thought insupportable, and such an anxiety as made my nights -sleepless, and my days a misery. No wonder that my white face, and the -dark ring around my eyes bore hourly witness to the heaviness of my -heart. - -"Why so sad and pale, young sinner?" called out Grace that evening, as -about an hour after tea we were dispersing to our rooms to dress for the -all-important occasion. "I think you ought to appear as Mariana, and -sing 'I am aweary, aweary;' don't you think so, Mr. Rutledge?" - -"Miss Grace, I haven't given the subject enough thought." - -"I would give worlds to know what you are going to wear, Mr. Rutledge!" -exclaimed Josephine. "But I _know_ I shall detect you instantly. I -should know your step and carriage under twenty dominoes, and among a -thousand people." - -"Pretty high figures those, Joseph! Phil, I shall know you by your -stride, and you couldn't disguise your voice if you practised a year, -and that bow is 'Philip Arbuthnot, His Mark,' all the world over!" - -"The best way to disguise our voices," said Capt. McGuffy, "is to speak -French. I think we had all better agree to do it." - -"Ella will not object," said Grace, "now Mr. Viennet is not here to -criticise." - -"Hush, Grace!" cried her sister maliciously. "How can you be so -thoughtless? Why do you continually harrow up your cousin's feelings. By -the way, this is the day the steamer sails, is it not?" - -"No, yesterday," said Ellerton. "The list of passengers will be in -to-day's papers. Has the mail come yet, Mr. Rutledge?" - -"There is Thomas with it now." - -Thomas deposited the package on the hall table and withdrew. I was -standing nearest of the group to it, and putting out my hand, took up -the "Times." - -The others approached and with great interest examined the letters. "Why -my dear!" said Josephine pleasantly, "I'm astonished that there's none -for you! Not a word since he went away. That doesn't look devoted!" - -The color went and came in my face, but it wasn't the taunt that I -minded. - -"Never mind!" cried Grace, "don't break its heart about him! It shall -have another lover, it shall have the big Mason, so it shall!" - -"May I trouble you for the 'Times' one moment?" asked Ellerton Wynkar, -"I want to look over the departures." - -"According to my cousin," I said, tightening my grasp upon the paper, "I -have the greatest interest in them, and I must beg the privilege of -reading the list first." - -"That's not fair!" cried Grace. "How do you know but we have lovers -sailing in the 'Arago' as well as you? I must have that paper," and, -springing forward, she grasped my wrists. - -She could have overcome me in a moment, for just then I was as weak as a -child; but Mr. Rutledge, in his firm, quiet way, released my hands, and, -holding Grace's tightly in his own, said: - -"You had better make your escape with it to your room; I cannot insure -you if you stay." - -With a grateful look and a forced laugh I ran upstairs, locked myself in -my room, and, tearing open the paper, glanced hurriedly up and down the -columns for the list of the "Arago's" passengers. At last I found it, -and skimmed eagerly through it. It was as I expected; I was not -disappointed nor shocked; but my hand trembled so I could hardly cut the -paragraph out. Ringing for Kitty, I sent the paper down, with my -compliments to Mr. Wynkar. - -It was nearly nine o'clock before Kitty came back to dress me. I had -rung twice, but received no answer. When she did come, I saw in a moment -that the delay had been caused by some unusual and exciting cause. She -was nervous and uneasy, and started at every sound. Whenever I caught -her eye, it dropped quickly before mine, and she hurried on with less -than her usual care, the dress on which she had bestowed so much pains -and regarded with so much pride. When I was dressed, I looked at myself -with some surprise; I was, indeed, effectually disguised. Over my white -tarletan ball-dress, I wore a domino of white silk, trimmed with heavy -white fringe, and instead of the ordinary hideous black satin mask, a -silver gauze before the upper part of my face, and a fall of white lace -concealed my features entirely. The heels of my white kid boots were -made very high, and that, together with the long sweeping dress, made me -appear so much taller than usual, that that one circumstance would of -itself have deceived almost any one. I noticed, after I was all dressed, -and ready to go down, that Kitty was a long time in adjusting, to her -entire satisfaction, the cord and tassel that confined the domino at the -waist. Just as I was leaving the room, I chanced to look down, and saw -that there was a narrow blue ribbon knotted to one of the tassels. - -"What's this, Kitty? Take it off, please." - -"That? O, it's nothing, Miss. The tassel was a little loose, and I -fastened it up." - -"But all the rest of my dress is white--this spoils the effect. You'd -better take a piece of white ribbon." - -"Oh! Miss" (a little impatiently), "how particular you've grown! I -thought you wouldn't mind the bit of blue, and it's _so_ late. The -carriages have been coming this half hour." - -"Well, no matter then. I'll go down." - -Kitty preceded me, stealing an occasional look around, to ascertain that -there was no one in sight, then beckoned me across the hall, hurried me -down the private staircase and through a labyrinth of pantries, to a -door that opened upon the shrubbery. - -"This way," whispered Kitty. "Follow me." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI. - - - "O purblind race of miserable men, - How many among us at this very hour - Do forge a life-long trouble for ourselves - By taking true for false, or false for true." - -TENNYSON. - - -I followed Kitty down the dark paths of the shrubbery, and, as far as I -could tell, through the dazzling gauze of my mask, some distance across -the park. - -"Where are you taking me? There is no need of such precaution." - -"O yes, indeed," she answered eagerly, "if you had gone right around the -house and gone in, they would have known in a minute that it was -somebody who lived there. Mr. Wynkar and the captain were on the steps, -watching. I saw them." - -She hurried me on till we reached a clump of trees too far from the -lamps suspended to the branches of those on the lawn to be lighted by -them; then pausing, she looked quickly around. - -"Are you not tired, Miss?" she said, raising her voice. "Hadn't you -better rest a minute here? We walked so fast." - -"No," I answered, with slight impatience. "I want to go immediately to -the house." - -"Yes, Miss," she said, uneasily. "Just wait till this carriage passes." - -It might have been fancy, but I thought I heard a step behind me, and -starting forward, I called Kitty instantly to follow me. She could not -but obey, and only left me where the lamps from the piazza threw too -strong a light for her to venture. Whispering to me where I should find -her if I wanted her during the evening, she slipped away, and I walked -on. - -The carriage reached the entrance, and the occupants of it alighted and -disappeared within the awning before I arrived at it. There were several -groups of masked figures on the piazza as I entered the inclosed walk -from the carriageway, and, mounting the steps, approached the door. - -"How spectral!" whispered one. "And look at that black shadow following -so close." - -I turned involuntarily at this; a black domino whom I had not perceived -had entered with me, and I hurried forward into the house a little -abruptly, to escape his companionship, and, crossing the brilliant and -beautifully decorated hall, I entered the drawing-room. There was a -temporary lull in the dancing, and I paused a moment to reconnoitre -before I advanced to Mrs. Churchill. She was unmasked, and was to -receive the guests; she stood at the other end of the room, and it was -rather a formidable thing to cross to her, but remembering to disguise -my step, I walked slowly and with some stateliness over to where she -stood, made my devoirs, and turned away; but half a yard behind me was -my black shadow. All eyes were upon us. - -"What a ghostly pair!" exclaimed a vivacious peasant girl from the -folding-doors. "I shall not be astonished if, when the masks are dropped -at supper-time, a skeleton should step out of that black domino, and -preside at the feast!" - -"And a nymph of Lurley out of that white drapery," said "General -Washington," approaching and offering me his arm. We made the tour of -the rooms, admired the flowers, discussed the dresses, and tried to find -each other out. I soon discovered my companion to be Mr. Emerson of the -Grove, a fine, dignified old gentleman, whom I had always admired. His -unconscious interest in, and admiration for, a tall brunette, whose -black eyes sparkled even through her mask, betrayed her immediately to -me as his daughter, Miss Janet Emerson. The Misses Mason were -flower-girls of course; their mamma, by virtue of her literary -proclivities and immense fund of sentiment, appeared as a sibyl, and -told fortunes untiringly; the younger Mr. Mason wore an English -hunting-dress, and the elder one escaped my observation among the crowd -of greater strangers in the room. An Oxford student paid me marked -attention, but discovering the unmistakable white eyelashes and feeble -voice of my pet aversion, Ellerton Wynkar, I became discouragingly -distant and severe, and he transferred his devotion to a pretty Greek -dress, which I soon concluded must enshrine the indolent loveliness of -my cousin Grace. - -Beyond this, my penetration was entirely at fault; among the crowd of -grotesque and graceful figures, I tried in vain to recognize any of our -own party. There were half a dozen men of Phil's height, and as many of -Mr. Rutledge's make; so many imitated the captain's military manner, -that it was impossible to recognize the stork among the cranes. There -were two Louis Quatorze costumes, that more than any others suggested -Josephine and Ella, but I could not be positive; they were so exactly -alike, that even when together one could not detect a shade of -difference either in dress or manner. The powdered hair and masks, of -course, concealed the diversity of color and complexion. - -"Those two are the most distinguished-looking in the room," said General -Washington, by way of small talk. "I suppose you have recognized -them--Miss Churchill and her cousin." - -"Which cousin?" - -"The one who is engaged to the young Frenchman. Quite a pretty girl. I -never saw her look so well as she does to-night." - -"Which is Mr. Rutledge, do you know?" I asked. - -"I have not made him out yet, but if you care to know the surest way -will be to stay here, in the neighborhood of Miss Churchill: he will not -be very far off!" - -"Then let us sit here," and I sank down on a sofa. - -"Your cavalier keeps a faithful watch upon your movements," said my -companion. "He has followed you from room to room, and is just behind -you now." - -"Who is it that you mean?" - -"The black domino--the gentleman who came with you." - -And the black domino at that moment bent down, and, in a low, smothered -voice, asked me if I would dance. I declined very quickly, and turned -away my head. - -"Miss Churchill, will you dance this set with me?" asked a gentleman, in -French, approaching me. - -Disguised as the voice was, there was something familiar in it. I gave -him my hand, and we took our places at the head of the room. It very -soon became evident that he had mistaken me for Miss Churchill, and I -determined to keep up the character. It was not very difficult; we were -exactly the same size, and I had always been a good mimic, so that, in -five minutes, I was coquetting, twisting my fan, and taking off -Josephine to the life. It was not so easy to find out who I was -quizzing. He was evidently a master of the art of deception, disguised -his voice, his step, his manner, and was never off his guard an instant. -He did not answer to anybody's description exactly, though I was -constantly convinced, by his familiarity with us all, that he was "one -of us." I tried to bait him with allusions to all our acquaintance, but -he was too wary to rise to any of them. - -"How did you find me out so easily?" I said, with a laugh so like -Josephine's that I was absolutely startled myself. "I thought I was -disguised beyond all detection." - -"Not from me." - -"Ah, you are so clever!" I said, putting my head on one side, with an -affectation characteristic of Josephine. "Now help me to discover some -of the others. Who is our vis-a-vis in the Spanish dress?" - -"_You_ should not have to ask." - -"_Mais qui?_" - -"Mr. Arbuthnot, _sans doute_." - -"Ah! my heart should have told me Phil! Which is the captain?" - -"'Ivanhoe,' there by the door, talking with the 'Father of his -Country.'" - -"And oh! tell me, for I am dying to know, have you found out my cousin?" - -"I do not think she is in the room." - -"Impossible! Then she must be ill." - -"Indifferent, more probably." - -"Ah! perhaps. 'There is but one with whom she has heart to be gay!' But -has nobody been up to see what has become of her?" - -"No one, I fancy." - -"Had I better go?" - -"That's as you please," with a slight shrug. - -"Well, I'll see, after this dance. Who is that black domino, pray?" - -"That is more than I can tell you. He is the only man in the room whom I -have not detected. He has not danced, nor spoken to any one, I think. I -shall watch him closely and be near him when he unmasks." - -"Yes, but that's rather uncertain. He may leave the room before then." - -"That's very possible. He seems to be hovering near us. Suppose, after -this dance, you draw him into conversation, and try to make him out? He -seems to avoid me, and I am really very curious to know him." - -"Very well, to gratify you, I will try to detect him; but my -cousin--will you take that duty off my hands?" - -"Yes, I will send a servant to inquire, and report the result to you." - -"Thank you. How _kind_ you always are! I should know that goodness of -heart under twenty dominoes, and among a thousand people!" - -My companion, bowing low, gave me a quick look from under the cowl of -his monk's habit. - -"You are too flattering," he said, and the dance ended. - -The black domino was at my elbow, and nodding significantly to my -partner, I turned abruptly to him, and said, still in imitation of -Josephine's voice: - -"Will you give me your arm? My partner has another engagement." - -He bowed, and offered me his arm. His voice, when he spoke, was so low, -and so studiously disguised, it was impossible to detect anything from -that; his coarse black domino hung so long and amply about him, and the -hood was drawn so tightly around his mask, that no one could possibly -distinguish anything of his face, figure, or carriage. Before we had -made the tour of the rooms, I began to repent my bargain. There was -something in his manner that made me most uncomfortable. I determined -not to give up my assumed vivacity, but it was like chatting with a -ghost; and when I went with him into the punch-room, and raised a glass -to my lips, bowing to him over it, it seemed like a "hob-and-nob with -Death," and the laugh I laughed was a very faint and forced one, as we -set our half-tasted glasses down. I was so uncomfortable at being alone -with him, that I stammered hurriedly: - -"Shan't we go back to the dancing-room?" - -"Are you afraid of me?" he said quickly, and in a low tone, "can you not -give me a moment from your pleasure?" - -"Sir!" I said, shrinking back; "I haven't the least idea who you are." - -"You can forget, it seems. I envy you the power!" - -"You talk in riddles," I said, going toward the door. Another party -entered the room, and my companion followed me out. - -"What a grotesque scene!" I said, looking up and down the wide hall, -where wreaths of flowers and lights and floating flags hung, and -thronging across whose marble pavement were groups of fantastic figures. -"I never was at a masquerade before. Is it not diverting?" - -"Will you come upon the piazza?" asked my companion, not heeding my -remark. "It is too warm here." - -"No," I exclaimed, hurriedly, "I cannot, here is my partner." - -The "friar of orders grey" obeyed my hasty summons, and I accepted his -arm with very great _empressement_, stammering some excuse to the sable -domino in the doorway, and walked down the hall. - -"Well, have you discovered him?" - -"No, I do not know him at all, he is very odd. I think he is a stranger. -Not anybody, at all events, that any of us know well." - -"I cannot understand it," he said, musingly. "I thought you would have -been able to have obtained some clue. He seemed willing to talk to you." - -"Only too willing!" - -"Did he seem to recognize you?" - -"I cannot tell exactly; he certainly thought he knew, but whether it -were not a mistake on his part, I cannot say." - -"He avoids me; I cannot make anything of him; I shall have to put some -one else on the track." - -"What of my cousin?" I asked. - -"I found Kitty, who says she is not very well, but will probably be in -the room a little before supper." - -"Ah, thank you. You have no idea, I suppose, what her dress is to be?" - -"Kitty gave me to understand, very quietly, that she would wear a -rose-colored domino." - -"There is a rose-colored domino just entering; do you imagine that is -the fair _fiancee?_" - -"Very possibly," said my companion. - -"She is going to dance. Is that Phil with her?" - -Phil at this moment asked my partner to be his vis-a-vis, so we were -again drawn into the dance. By this time, half the people in the room -thought I was Miss Churchill, and addressed me accordingly. In one of -the pauses of the quadrille, as some one calling me by that name had -turned away, the black domino, who stood a little behind me on my left, -leaned forward and whispered: - -"You cannot deceive _me;_ it was not Miss Churchill who was to have a -blue ribbon on her tassel." - -I started; what intrigue was that Kitty about? - -The dance was over; Phil and his partner left the room and turned toward -the piazza. - -"Shall we go into the fresh air?" said my companion, following them with -his eyes. I took his arm, and we went on the piazza. The soft light of -the colored lamps, the mellow music floating out to us, the cool air in -our faces--I met with a gasp of relief and pleasure. Leading me to a -seat rather more secluded than the others, my companion threw himself on -the sofa beside me, and exclaimed, removing his mask: - -"This is so unsupportably warm, I must take it off for a moment's -relief, as I believe you know me. Well! Miss Josephine, how do you think -our masquerade has succeeded? Are you satisfied with the result?" - -"Perfectly," I said, feeling very guilty, and leaning back further into -the shade. "It has been a delightful affair." - -He rested his brow thoughtfully and sadly on his hand for a moment. "You -are tired," I said. - -"Miserably tired." - -It was well for me he did not require me to talk; I should have betrayed -myself if I had attempted it. His eyes were riveted on the pair who -stood a few yards from us. Phil, bending down, was whispering in low -tones to his companion in the pink domino. There was something in her -attitude, as she listened with half-bent head, that I could not fail to -recognize, and from below the edge of her domino, I caught a glimpse of -yellow brocade. There was but one to whom Phil could talk in those -earnest tones--but one to whom he could tell that tale. Josephine, I -saw, must have gone upstairs, and put on the domino over her first -dress, the more to puzzle some of her partners. Kitty had in some way -become acquainted with her intention, and seized upon it to further the -deception that she saw prevailed in regard to me. There was very little -that escaped that clever jade. I wished, with a sigh, that she were less -unscrupulous. In a few moments, the cousins passed where we sat, nearly -concealed from them, walking slowly and talking earnestly. - -"You cannot ask me to endure it longer; this suspense is misery," he -said, with a quiver in his manly voice. - -"Dear Phil," murmured the clear, low tones of his companion, "you must -know my feelings toward you; I have never tried to hide them; but you -know how it is--you know it would be madness for either of us to think -of each other." - -"Why would it be madness?" he urged. "Oh, Josephine! Why cannot you give -up the ambition that separates us? Depend upon it, it has stood in the -way of your happiness all your life." - -It had been impossible to avoid hearing this conversation; my companion, -starting up, looked after the retreating figures amazed and stern. In -his haste, he had pulled down an American flag that had been draped over -the sofa we occupied. I started up, and involuntarily raised my hand to -replace it. The loose sleeve fell back from my arm, and in the strong -light of the lamp overhead, the scar on my wrist caught his eye. With a -quick, imperious movement, he seized my hand before I could withdraw it, -and held it firmly in one of his, while with the other he raised my -mask. - -"You have deceived me," he said, between his teeth. - -"You have deceived yourself, you are the victim of your own prejudices. -You cannot say I did more than humor your decision!" I returned, -quickly. - -"You only acted a womanly and natural part, lied sweetly in every glance -of your bright eyes, in every turn of your graceful figure, in every -word on your red lips! I don't blame you; you are a woman." - -"You are too cruel! you will repent this some day; it will be the -bitterest thing you have to remember; the recollection of it will make -you suffer as you have made me suffer." - -"Never fear but I shall have enough to suffer, if the present is any -earnest of the future for me! Your kindest wishes will be more than -realized. For a proud man," he said, with a low, bitter laugh, flinging -from him the hand he held, "for a proud man, I have had some -humiliations that you would hardly believe if I told you! You could -hardly understand them in your simplicity; your soft, woman's heart -would bleed, perhaps, but it would heal itself too soon to allay in any -great degree my wretchedness. Your morning-glory tenderness would droop -before the fierceness of my pain, it would die in my hot grasp!--I will -not ask your pity, but spare me your detestation. Save the aversion that -your eyes showed then, for those who have deserved it better at your -hands." - -There was a sound of voices from within, a window near us was thrown -open, and a group of people, laughing and talking, stepped out on the -piazza. Hastily restoring my mask to its place, I turned away and -entered the house through the window they had opened. - -"You may have deceived one who is indifferent to you; you cannot deceive -one who loves you," said a low voice in my ear, and the black figure I -instinctively dreaded stood beside me. "For the sake of heaven, come -with me, one moment!" - -"Who are you?" I murmured, shrinking back. - -He bent down and whispered a name in my ear, at which the color left my -cheek, the light my eye, almost the life my pulses. - -"Will you come?" - -I bent my head without a word, and followed him out of the hall, down -the terrace, through the winding paths of the shrubbery, across the -garden; hurrying on to suit his fierce pace, but chilled to the heart -with a terror that was no longer nameless. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII. - - - "O man! while in thy early years, - How prodigal of time! - Misspending all thy precious hours, - Thy glorious, youthful prime! - Alternate follies take the sway; - Licentious passions burn; - Which tenfold force give Nature's law, - That man was made to mourn." - -BURNS. - - -The spot to which my companion led me was a ruined summerhouse, not a -stone's throw from the outer garden hedge. It was a lonely place in a -sort of hollow, a low, dense orchard stretched dark on one side, while a -little knoll, crowned with copse, rose between it and all view of the -house and grounds on the other, and a little stream fell murmuring down -from rock to rock through the ravine. Why it was so deserted and -dilapidated, I had never exactly known; but from something Stephen had -said, when I had questioned him about it, I had conjectured that it was -associated with the shame and fall of her whose memory was even yet so -painful, and that ruin and decay were welcome to hide the place from all -eyes. - -The night wind was moaning wildly down the little hollow; the ghastly -moonlight flickered fitfully through the broken roof and moldering -arches; the moss-grown, slimy stones rocked beneath my tread; steadying -myself by one of the posts of the ruined doorway, I stood still and -waited for my companion to speak. He had sunk down on a seat, but in a -moment, raising his head, he loosed the hood of his domino, and, as it -fell back, rose and turned his face toward me. With a faint cry, I put -out my hands and started back. In the haggard, bloodless face, the wild -and troubled eye of the man before me, I could hardly recognize a -feature of Victor Viennet's handsome face. - -"No need to start away and put out your white hands to keep me off," he -said, with a laugh that made my blood run cold. "No need to press your -pale lips together to keep back that cry of horror! I have risked my -life--aye--sold it, rather--for this interview, and yet I would not lay -my guilty grasp upon the hand you have promised to me, I would not touch -the distantest fold of your white dress! There is no need to droop, and -flutter, and clasp your hands, and pray me to be calm--don't turn your -eyes on me with such a look as that! You try to say you love me yet; -wait till I tell you, wait till you know all, before you say you love -me!" - -"You need not tell me, Victor," I faltered, "I guessed it from the -first." - -"You guessed it from the first, and yet dared come here--alone--at -midnight--with me! No, you have not guessed it. Your girl's heart never -framed the outline of such a sin, you will swoon but to hear its name!" - -The night wind howling through the shivering trees, the restless brook -moaning down the hollow, if ever their wild lament had ceased, would -have heard, brokenly and incoherently, such a story as this: - -In a quaint, secluded village, in some remote province of France, Victor -Viennet's early childhood had been passed. It was a childhood so -companionless that, but that he was happy and needed nothing save his -sad mother's love and his wild freedom, one would have pitied him even -then, before he knew the shame he had to bear and the sufferings it -would bring. For months together no stranger's foot would cross the -threshold of the lonely cottage; the neighbors looked askance at the two -pale women and the pretty boy, who had come so strangely and so -stealthily into their midst, and rumor had been busy even there. The -village children were forbid to play with "le petit Anglais;" they -taunted and mocked him, and he, in his turn, spurned and hated them, and -clung more entirely to his mother, who strove to interfere between him -and every insult, every harshness, and vexation. And but too well she -succeeded in guarding him; when death came to unloose her arms from -around him, he was left too sensitive and shrinking a plant to bear the -first breath of the scorching simoon of scorn and ignominy that had been -gathering up its strength so long. The fatal secret of his birth, that -explained all, burst suddenly upon him while his childish heart was yet -bleeding with his first grief. He learned that he must thank his dead -mother for the brand of shame that he must bear through life; that for -her, whom he had worshipped as an angel, there was on every lip a name -of scorn. He learned that every man's hand was against him, as an -outcast and a bastard; and all the strength of his nature became a -strength of hatred; his southern blood turned to gall in his young -veins. The home that had been his sanctuary, his city of refuge, was a -desecrated and hateful place. The same fever that had struck down his -mother, had laid her nurse and companion low. Tenderness and compassion -had been blasted in the boy's heart; they had both deceived and wronged -him; he owed nothing to the memory of the one, nor to the misery of the -other; and without a look, he left her in her unconsciousness, and -turned his back forever on his home, with the curse in his heart for -which he had not yet learned the words. - -Who needs be told the career on which the boy entered? Who but would -sicken and turn away from the record of his houseless wanderings, his -desperate shifts, his recklessness and wickedness. Who that could read -with anything but sorrow of the scenes of squalid want, of cunning vice, -of mad profligacy, through which he passed before his youth was yet -begun. There could be but one result; all that was weak in him was bent -to the service of sin, all that was noble was turned to bitterness; the -refinement of his nature made him rise, but it was to no heights of -truth and virtue; ambition had taken the place of all noble aspirations, -and sustained him through ignominy, and reproach, and poverty, helped -him to trample on difficulties that would have daunted a less desperate -man, and scruples that would have shaken a better one, aided him to free -himself from the pollutions that his wild boyhood had contracted, and to -shake off the trammels of the past, and crown himself with the success -that he had made his god. But through it all, there lived a fear lest -the forgotten stain of his birth should be revived, the foundation stone -be pulled from his fair fabric of good fortune; and this morbid dread so -haunted him, that he came to hate the very sunshine and soft air of -France, to fear the very children in the streets, the strangers whose -curious eyes he met in the thoroughfares of business. And with all the -fearful and enslaved of the earth, he turned his eyes toward the fair -land that promises absolution and new life to the sinful and miserable -of other lands, and denies its rich benison of hope and freedom neither -to the criminal who flies from justice, nor the miserable who flies from -memory. With three thousand miles of ocean between him and France, -perhaps he could shake off the slavish dread that gnawed forever at his -peace, and rise to a position where he need not fear its sting. The -untainted air of that new land had never heard the whisper of his shame, -should never hear it; even in his own bosom, it should die forgotten and -unfeared. - -But than his strong will, there had been a stronger. Within the first -week of his arrival in America, he was seized with a malignant fever, -and from delirium and raving, sunk to stupor and an almost death-like -torpor, and for weeks lay so. When at last he rallied and shook off the -lethargy that had so long dulled intelligence and feeling, it was to -find, that in the first hours of his delirium, he had betrayed his -secret and undone himself; and betrayed it to a man whom neither honor -nor pity could bind, but whose cunning malice gloated over the power his -discovery had invested him with, and who would use it maliciously and -unscrupulously. It did no good to rave and curse his fate; all the power -of his strong will must go to the repairing of the error, and to the -hushing and pacifying this low man who held him at such advantage. It -seemed an easy enough thing at first; the man was ready to promise -silence and assure him of his good will, and seemed to require nothing -in return but good fellowship and confidence. Anything would have been -easier for Victor to have given; his proud spirit revolted at such -companionship and bondage, but at the first sign of contempt or -impatience, the glistening serpent showed his sting, and chafed and -despairing, the victim felt the toils tighten around him. There was no -escape from his familiarity; he haunted and exasperated him, dogged his -steps, followed him into the company of men who could not but wonder at -the intimacy and draw their own conclusions from his endurance of such a -man. - -With the exception of this cruel drawback, the new land indeed proved an -Eldorado to Victor. Friends thickened, fortune smiled; he rose with -hasty steps to success, social and commercial. Only the sly gleam of Dr. -Hugh's treacherous eye sent an occasional fear through the pride of his -heart, and kept it in a sort of check. But it did not humble him, it -only galled and goaded him, and quickened his determination to prove -himself a man for a' that; it strengthened his haughtiness and -self-reliance. In the course of a year or two, however, circumstances -somewhat changed; Dr. Hugh left the city, and Victor breathed freer. -Occasional letters still reached him, keeping him in mind, but they -ceased after awhile, and the young adventurer began to feel secure; he -was on the road to fortune, the only barrier to success was gone, and -the happiness he had never dared enjoy before, seemed just within his -grasp. And just then, just when the new hopes of love, and the nearly -crowned ambition, most demanded the hiding of the hated secret, chance -threw him upon the only man who held it. No wonder that his cheek had -blanched the evening that he came to Rutledge, when he found the doctor -there before him. The doctor had not forgotten, the doctor had not lost -sight of him, though he had lost sight of the doctor, and soon his -stealthy hand was on the festering wound again, and his old cunning at -work to exasperate his victim, and with a new zest. - -That Victor had been a successful man of business he had not minded; it -only made his power over him the more desirable, and the remuneration -for his silence greater; but that Victor should be the successful lover -of one whom he had reason to regard with resentment and aversion, was -too severe a trial for his love of malice to endure. Here was an -opportunity for humbling the girl who had treated him with scorn and -ridicule, and the proud man who endured him with but half concealed -impatience. Victor Viennet should give up the woman he loved, and only -buy a promise of continued silence at a heavy price. The girl should -lose her lover; in any case he promised himself that. If Victor refused -to give her up, a whisper in his ear of what he knew of _her_ secret, -would damp his ardor and bring pride to weigh down the balance as he -wished. And her pride, if even Victor's infatuation led him to prefer -exposure and disgrace to separation, would never suffer her to marry a -man, who, from the first she had never loved, now stripped of his name -and honor. In any event that was secure to him. But he had overreached -his aim when he drove Victor to resolve on such a sudden departure. Once -in Europe, he might lose track of him; his vigilance at such a distance -might be eluded, and all but his revenge would be lost; and chance had -thrown into his hand the threads of a mystery that only time could -unravel, that promised power over more than him; but Victor's absence -would ruin all. - -Late on the night before his intended departure from Rutledge, a note -was handed to him from Dr. Hugh, demanding another interview before he -sailed. Victor dared not neglect or refuse the demand. It was too late -now to change his plans, and of all things he desired to conceal the -fact of his having any private business with Dr. Hugh, from his host and -the guests at Rutledge. Gnashing his teeth at the humiliation of feeling -himself at the beck and call of this low villain, and cursing the fate -that forced him to stoop to such stratagems, he hastily returned a few -lines to the doctor, appointing to meet him the following day at noon, -at Brandon, the next station to Rutledge, distant about twelve miles, -intending to send his baggage on in the train in which he should start, -and remaining an hour at Brandon with the doctor, should go on himself -in the next train. By this, he would avoid suspicion and meet the -persecutor on neutral ground. He found no difficulty in leaving the cars -unobserved, and repairing to the inn he had appointed for rendezvous. - -The bar-room was crowded with passengers for the cars going west, so, an -unnoticed guest, he awaited with growing impatience the keeping of his -appointment. Half suspecting that the man's object was to keep him back, -and make him lose the train, his impatience and vexation knew no bounds, -as the hour slowly waned and no one appeared. The train came rushing -through the town, paused a moment, and rushed on, and his last chance -for that day had passed. For one moment he had resolved to defy his -persecutor, and escape him once and forever; but he knew that before -another sunset his secret would be published, and what was this vexation -to that ruin? As the crowd hurried from the tavern to the ears, a -horseman had alighted at the door, and Victor shrunk back with a guilty -feeling of humiliation and fear as he recognized Mr. Rutledge. What a -degrading bondage was this for a man of honor--what a damnable -humiliation! To be skulking away from the man whom, a few hours ago, he -had met as his host and his equal. To be waiting submissively the -pleasure of a low villain, whose greedy cunning and mean rascality -marked him below the revenge of a gentleman. - -"It shall end," muttered Victor, between his teeth, as he screened -himself from the sight of the new comer, who had entered the bar-room. -He was engaged for several minutes in conversation with the bar-keeper, -left a message for a neighboring workman, paid a bill for the cartage of -some timber, and was about leaving the room, when his eye fell upon a -note that was lying on a table near the door; and Victor's dark cheek -mantled with shame and vexation, as, taking it up, Mr. Rutledge read, in -a tone of surprise: - -"Mr. Victor Viennet. To be left at the Brandon Shades." - -"When was this brought here?" he inquired of the man behind the bar. - -"This morning, sir, I think," he returned. "A man from your village came -with it--a dark, thick-set fellow, if I'm not mistaken; one of the hands -from the factory." - -"And no one has called for it--no one answering to that name has been -here?" - -"Not to my knowledge, sir." - -Mr. Rutledge knit his brow, and paced the floor uneasily. The haughty -curl of his lip, as he glanced again at the note, made the blood boil in -Victor's veins. It was almost impossible to keep back the defiant words -that rushed to his lips; but detection would be fatal now, and he -remained motionless, while Mr. Rutledge, crossing over to the barkeeper, -said, in a lower tone: - -"You will oblige me by noticing who comes for that note, and by what way -he returns. I will stop here on my return from Renwick, before night." - -The man promised obsequiously, and Mr. Rutledge left the room. Victor -only waited to hear his horse's hoofs die away down the street, and to -see the bar-keeper's attention fully engaged with a group of jovial -mechanics just entering for their noon-day drink, to leave his place of -concealment, and possessing himself hastily of the note, opened it -carefully, and abstracting the contents, substituted a business circular -which he had in his pocket, sealed up the envelope again, threw it on -the table, and left the room by a side-door. - -He had walked some distance down the street before he ventured to read -the letter, which proved, of course, to be from Dr. Hugh, apologizing -for the delay, but saying that it would be impossible for him to be at -Brandon before four o'clock. At that hour he should hope to find Mr. -Viennet at the Shades, as first named, etc. - -"The Shades" was the last place where he desired to see him now, so he -determined to walk forward on the road to Rutledge, and meet him on the -way. It was a hot and dusty road, upon which the afternoon sun shone -down unmercifully, but the heat and the dust were unheeded and -indifferent to the over-wrought and exasperated traveller. The exercise -and the fatigue of walking were in some measure a relief to his strained -nerves, and without stopping to reflect, he hurried fiercely on, till -eight miles of the twelve had been accomplished. Something familiar in -the road had drawn his attention to his locality, and warned him of his -nearness to Rutledge. It had been so lonely and monotonous a road before -that, his attention had not been attracted to it; he had passed the last -farmhouse three or four miles back, and only paused now, struck by the -familiarity of the Hemlock Hollow road, leading off at the left. It was -now only four miles to the village, and he stopped, resolved to await -Dr. Hugh here. - -It was no balm to his vexed and angry mood, to remember how near he was -to what was at once dearest and most unattainable to him. It was no -soother to his wounded pride, to feel that he was skulking like a thief -around the place where for weeks he had been entertained as a guest; and -as hour after hour dragged on, and no one approached down the lonely -road, his impatience grew into a kind of frenzy, and before the glaring -sun had sunk behind the woods, and the thick, dull twilight had crept -slowly over the gloomy hollow, from an angry and exasperated, he had -become a revengeful and desperate man. - -It was in this mood that his persecutor met him. It was when all the -venomous rancor that a long subjection had bred in his haughty nature, -was roused to its utmost, that the interview for which Dr. Hugh had -schemed, and planned, and lied, took place. Cold and cunning, plausible -and imperturbable, he met a man with whose keenest feelings he had been -playing for years, and who was even then lacerated to madness by insults -and indignities that would have roused a tamer nature. Some fiend was -blinding his eyes surely, and lulling him into security, that he did not -feel a warning throb of fear as he rode into the lonely hollow, and -through the dusky twilight discerned the waiting form of him he had -wronged so deeply. Some luring devil put into his mouth the cold and -sneering words with which he greeted him--the fool-hardy and -contemptuous bravado with which he taunted him. Beyond any length he had -ever gone before, he now dared, claiming his power over him, defying him -to disdain it, and threatening him with instant exposure if he dared -leave America. - -And when Victor, driven to desperation, and quivering with passion, -turned fiercely upon him and defied him to do it--from this hour he -cared not whether it was known or not, the cunning fiend in the wretch's -bosom prompted him to ask if he had grown tired of his pretty mistress -so soon, that he gave her up so easily? Or did he flatter himself that -the haughty girl, at whose feet he had been so long, would continue her -hardly-won smiles when she knew him for a nameless, low-born adventurer, -hiding the stain of his birth at the cost of his honor? - -"You may tell it! You may proclaim it the length and breadth of the -land! Who will believe you, low villain and known knave as you are, -against the word and credit of a gentleman? Who will believe your paltry -version of the delirium of a fever, that none but you heard--none but -you interpreted? They will ask you for proofs--what then?" - -"I will give them proofs. I will tell them more than you know yourself -of the story of your birth, and prove it by more damning proofs than you -have dreamed existed. You doubt me? You defy and mock the threat? -Listen! At this moment I hold that about me that would prove the tale I -tell to be as true as heaven, and would send you branded to lower depths -of shame than you have ever known. I hold it but till you shall dare to -thwart me, till you shall dare to set a foot on foreign shores, and then -the world--the woman that you love--the friends you trust--your gloating -enemies--shall have the story, and shall see its proof!" - -The words hissed through the dead, dull, twilight of the still night, -and smote like livid fire on the brain of him who heard them--on his -overwrought and maddened brain--and shot through every pulse, and -tingled like wild-fire in his veins. The whispers of hell crept into his -tempted soul; there was no light in the heavens above--there was none on -the dark earth; the still night had no voice to breathe the things that -should be done; hell had no torments worse than these, and these he -might be free from with one blow! one cunning, short, sharp blow--one -quick, well-aimed, unerring blow! It would revenge him--free -him--restore him to peace--give him back his love. - -If there is joy in heaven over one sinner that repents, what must there -be of demoniac triumph in the vaults of hell, when another yields to -sin--a fresh soul is lost! What mad exultation and unholy joy must have -echoed in the regions of the damned, as the last cry of the murdered man -died away among the whispering tree-tops and gloomy depths of Hemlock -Hollow! and Victor Viennet pressed his blood-stained hand before his -eyes to blot out the image that now neither time, nor sleep, nor -anything save death could efface from his guilty vision. - -A horror, of such fear as none but murderers know, fell upon him as he -bent over that ghastly corpse, hardly still from the death-struggle -yet--hardly cold in the life-blood that his hand had spilled. He had not -feared his foe in life with such palpitating fear as now, when, with -eager, trembling hands, he searched, unresisted, for the fatal proof -that he had threatened him with. That found, he no longer strove to -resist the impulse of flight, and through the blackness and stillness of -that night, chased by such terror and such remorse as God suffers the -dead to avenge themselves with, he fled from the sight of the dead and -the justice of the living. - -But the morning found him a baffled and a desperate man. The news had -spread far and wide, the country was alive with it. A large reward had -been offered for the apprehension of the murderer, and no boor within -miles around but tried his best to earn it, and sharpened up his -sluggish wits, and stood his watch, and scoured the woods, with -incredible activity. It soon became apparent, though, to the wretched -fugitive, that there was one on his track who brought more knowledge of -the facts to the chase than his compeers, or, indeed, than he chose to -own. One there was, who night and day dogged and hunted him with -unflagging energy and terrible certainty, and from whom he knew he had -no chance of escape if once he left the woods and high lands and took to -the open country. There was only one hope, that of eluding and wearing -him out, and back he plunged into the woods again, and night and day -fought desperately against his fate. He had seen his pursuer pass almost -within pistol-shot of him, and had recognized in him one who added the -spur of malice to the sordid love of gold that animated the others. It -was the dread of losing his game, and putting others on the track, that -kept him from divulging what he knew, which was enough to fasten the -murder upon the man to meet whom, to his knowledge, the doctor had -started on the evening of his murder. And much more he might have told, -of concerted plans to dog and waylay the young stranger, and to keep him -in their power--of malicious watching, and intriguing, and vindictive -hatred and cunning, and cruel purposes. But this he kept in his own vile -breast, and, inspired by thirst for blood and love of gold, he pursued -with deadly vigilance the murderer of the man whose tool and accomplice -he had been. - -The third night of this unequal warfare was waning; the fugitive, worn -out and hopeless, had resolved to end it; he had lost all privilege to -hope, all right to love, and without these what was life worth? - -The breaking dawn showed him that he was in the pine-grove that bordered -Rutledge lake. He felt no fear at the danger of his nearness to -detection; he had done with fear now; what malice his enemies had to -wreak must be wreaked on his dead body; and God have pity on the only -one of all the world who would suffer pain or shame from his disgrace! - -Parting the thick branches, he made his way down to the water's-edge. In -the dim light of dawn, the lake spread calm and unruffled before him, -but what was this that lay so dark and motionless among the reeds and -lily-pads, not a stone's throw from the shore? Dark and motionless as -the haunting memory of that corpse in the black Hollow; nothing but -flesh and blood ever showed so dumb and horrible through the grey -light--nothing but death ever lay so still as that. It was the stark and -lifeless form of his enemy that he looked upon, and dying hope started -up and whispered of reprieve; all might not be over yet, and suicide and -temptation drew back chagrined. It looked almost like a mercy from the -Heaven he had outraged that the only tongue that could have betrayed him -had been stilled in death, and that not by his hand, and a dumb feeling -of gratitude warmed his heart and melted him into something like -repentance toward the Father and the Heaven he had sinned against. - -Now flight was clear and almost easy; once safely beyond the -neighborhood of Rutledge, there would be nothing to prevent his escaping -to Canada; no suspicion as yet had been attached to his name, and no one -need know that he had not fulfilled his intention of sailing at the time -he had mentioned, till he was safely embarked from Halifax. - -But then love stepped in, and pleaded for one last look--one last -embrace--before the life-long separation that his crime had doomed him -to; what could one day more or less endanger him? And Fate, baffled of -his ruin at one hand, now lured him into this worse snare, and he -yielded. Hiding himself through the day in the dense thicket that -covered the opposite bank of the lake, he had ventured forth at -twilight, and by bold manoeuvre and sharpened cunning, had obtained an -interview with Kitty. Not one girl in a thousand would have been capable -of what he required of her--not one in a thousand would have been -willing or trustworthy; but Kitty was as true as steel; her keen wits -were equal to the task, and though she only guessed the truth, the rack -and torture could not have won it from her. Before she dressed me for -the evening, she had dressed Victor in the coarse domino that she had -made since twilight for him, out of the black stuff that had lain so -many years in the trunk upstairs, forgotten and unused since the last -time that the household was in mourning. She had brought about the -meeting and recognition between us, and now watched anxiously for us, no -doubt, somewhere in the shrubbery. - -We were both but too unconscious of the flight of the moments now so -precious, when Kitty, with hurried hand, pushed aside the branches of -the thicket, and sprang down the ravine. - -"Fly, fly for your life, Mr. Victor! You are lost, if you stop for a -moment! The officers are at the house; they say a suspicious person has -been seen hanging about the grounds, and master has given them -permission to search the outhouses and the premises, and they say the -police are swarming all around. My dear young lady, let him go! Oh, that -I should see you in such trouble!" - -"But where shall I go!" murmured Victor, burying his face in his hands. -"I see no safety anywhere; the blood-hounds are on my track. It would -have been easy to die this morning! Why did I shrink from it then?" - -"Kitty!" I gasped, "can you think of no place--nowhere that we can hide -him?" - -"None! They will search the barn and stables. There's not an inch of -ground about the place they'll spare." - -"And the house; have they a warrant for that?" - -"They have searched the house, they had gone nearly through it before I -knew anything about it; I was watching for you outside." - -"Then, Kitty, the house is the safest place, if they are out of it; and, -if we could only get him there, there is _one room_ where he would be -safe!" - -Kitty started with a keen look as she caught my meaning. - -"Heaven help us! If we only could--I can think of one way--if you -wouldn't be afraid"---- - -"No, no, I wouldn't be afraid of anything," I said, laying my hand in -Victor's. "Speak quick." - -"Mr. Victor must give me his domino, and you and I must watch our chance -and go boldly in at the front door; there's no other way, there are -people all over the hall and piazza, and plenty saw you go out together, -and will notice if you come back alone; there has been a great deal of -suspicion about the black domino, and master, I know, is on the look-out -for him, and very likely will try to find out; and no harm's done, you -know, if I'm found in it; and then soon as I'm in the house I'll slip -upstairs, and throw down the pink domino that Miss Josephine has taken -off by this time, and Mr. Victor will wait for it at the west corner of -house, where it is more retired than anywhere else; he'll put it on -where it's dark there, in the shade of the trees, and join you on the -piazza, where you'll wait for him, and then try to get him upstairs -while they're at supper. I'll have the keys ready and get everybody out -of the way. It's the only thing we can do--there's not a minute to -lose!" - -It was desperate enough, but I saw no other way. Whispering a courage -and confidence I did not feel to Victor, I hurried off his domino, and -Kitty threw it over her dress. There was no time for fear; I did not -stop to think, or I should not have shaken off Victor's grasp so hastily -as I did, when we reached the shrubbery, nor have parted with so hurried -an adieu, only imploring him to be calm and cautious, and not to lose a -minute in gaining the west corner of the house. - -"Alas!" murmured Kitty, as we hurried up the steps, "there's a hundred -chances to one we don't see him again! It'll be just God's mercy and -nothing else, if he gets into the house. There goes the constable now, -and the men"---- - -"Which way?" I gasped. - -"Down toward the garden. Heaven help him! If he only sees them in time! -Take my arm, Miss, and come in; we can't stop now to see whether they -meet him; they're watching us on the piazza." - -I needed all the support of Kitty's arm as I entered the hall; the glare -of the lights made me sick and faint, and she hurried me to a chair. - -"Don't wait a minute to attend to me," I murmured, "hurry upstairs." - -"It won't do yet; everybody is looking at us; I must sit down and talk -to you awhile." - -A gentleman, Mr. Mason, approached me, and began to rally me upon -keeping up my incognito so long, the rest of the maskers, he said, had -consented to reveal themselves. - -"Say you won't unmask till supper," whispered Kitty. - -I mechanically repeated the words. Others came up to talk to me, there -was evidently some curiosity felt about me; I knew that I was not -recognized. I can hardly tell how I found answers to the questions put -to me; the questioners must have been satisfied with very vague and -senseless responses, if mine satisfied them. Kitty, at once prompt and -self-possessed, relieved me, and kept up her own part, disguising her -voice, and answering readily. - -Unable to control my agony at the delay any longer, I exclaimed -suddenly: "I feel faint, won't you (turning to the black domino) won't -you get the bottle of salts I left in the dressing-room?" - -Her height and step nearly betrayed her; and Mr. Mason catching sight of -a woman's foot as she ran up the stairs, proclaimed the fact, and -excited a general exclamation of wonder. - -"Never saw a character better sustained--everybody had thought it a man -all the evening." - -I listened for the opening of the window in the west room overhead, then -for Kitty's step as she stole out. I I heard it through all the din of -music and of voices. Then came a dreadful suspense; how to get rid of -the people, how to get on the piazza, I could not tell. Victor might -even now be waiting for me, a moment more might be too late; the -officers might at any instant return. Just then supper was announced, -and, "now you have promised to unmask, now you must tell us who you -are," exclaimed the gentlemen. - -"Not while you are all here," I exclaimed, "I will not take off my mask -to-night unless you all go to supper and leave me." - -It was long before I rid myself of my admirers; the last one was -dismissed to bring me an ice, and the instant I was alone, I stole out -on the piazza and round to the appointed spot, and sheltering myself -from sight, waited with a throbbing heart the appearance of the -rose-colored domino. But the throbs sunk to faint and sickening slowness -as minute after minute passed and no one came; dull, slow, torturing -minutes that seemed to count themselves out by the dropping of my life's -blood, each one left me so much fainter and more deathlike than before. -Reason and endurance began to give way under the intense pressure, the -laughter and merriment from within rang hideously in my ears, the gaudy -lamps and glaring lights swam before me, I clung to the balcony for -support; it seemed to reel from my grasp, and staggering forward, I -should have fallen, but for the arm of some one that approached, and -hurried to my side. He pushed back my mask and in a moment the fresh air -in my face revived me, I raised my head and cast an agonized look down -the walk that led to the shrubbery, and this time it was hope and not -despair that followed the look. - -"Pray leave me," I said imperiously to my attendant, "I am well now, I -had rather be alone." - -It was only when he turned to leave me that I saw it was Mr. Rutledge; -the figure that approached down the walk claimed all my thoughts. It -faltered a moment irresolutely on the steps. - -"Courage!" I whispered putting my hand in his. "Follow me to this -window, and we will cross the parlors, they are nearly clear." - -I knew that the spirit of the man I led was broken hopelessly, he who -had been so brave and reckless! At every step he wavered and held back; -"I cannot," he murmured shrinking as we reached the hall, now filling -with the gay throng from the supper room and library and the adjoining -balconies. I hurried him forward, nerved with a new courage; I braved -the inquisitive eyes of the crowd that thronged us, I had a bold answer -for all their questions, a repartee for all their jests, and so I fought -my way to the foot of the stairs. - -"Go up," I whispered to Victor, pushing him forward, and turning, I -kept back with laugh and raillery the knot of people clustered round the -landing-place. - -"You shall be mobbed!" cried Grace. "We all unmasked half an hour ago. -No one has a right to invisibility now!" - -"I am just going up to unmask, but you will not let me." - -"Will you promise to come instantly down?" asked Mr. Mason. - -"Instantly." - -"Will you dance the next set with me?" asked Ellerton. - -"With great pleasure." - -"Then it's but fair we should leave her," said Phil, and they moved -away. Kitty, as I reached the upper hall, made me a hasty gesture to -turn out the light at the head of the stairs. I obeyed, and in a moment -the lights at that end of the hall were all extinguished, and only one -left burning dimly at the other extremity. - -"Quick!" whispered Kitty. "Mrs. Roberts is in her room. I have the key." - -We hurried toward her, groping along the dark passage. The heavy -wardrobe moved from its place with a dull, rumbling sound; the key -grated in the unused lock. - -"Quick! quick!" whispered Victor. "There is a step on the stairs!" There -was a cruel moment of suspense as the key refused to turn; Victor held -my hand in his with a grasp of iron; a low cry of despair burst from -Kitty, as the step on the stairs mounted quickly. It was a matter of -life and death indeed; discovery seemed inevitable now. - -"Push, push it with all your might," I cried in an agony, "perhaps it -will give way!" - -"Thank heaven!" murmured Victor, as it yielded to her desperate -strength. In less time than it takes to speak it, the door closed upon -him, the wardrobe was pushed back to its place. - -"What is the meaning of this?" said the stern voice of the master at -the head of the stairs. "Why are the lights put out? Who is there? -Answer me." - -Kitty thrust me into the nearest room, and advanced to meet her angry -master. - -"It's me, sir--Kitty; and I was just come up myself to see what had made -it so dark up here; I think, sir, that the north windows there have been -left open, and the wind has come up strong from that way, and the -draught has put them out. It was very careless of Mrs. Roberts not to -look after it," she continued, busying herself in relighting the lamps. - -"Kitty," said Mr. Rutledge in a voice that I knew had more terror for -the girl, than any other in the world, "your falsehoods are very ready, -but they can never deceive me, remember that. Tell me promptly who put -the lamps out." - -"The fact is, master," she said dropping her eyes and looking contrite -as she approached him, "my poor young lady has had a fainting-fit down -stairs, and she wanted to get to her own room without anybody -recognizing her, so I turned the lights out, for several of the young -gentlemen were waiting about the stairs to see what room she'd go to." - -"That lie is even more ingenious than the first. It is useless to -question you further; you do not know how to speak the truth even when -it is the best policy. Bring that light and follow me." - -"Don't scold Kitty," I said, faintly, coming forward. "It was my fault, -I wanted the lights put out. I thought it would do no harm, just for a -moment, but I beg your pardon." - -Mr. Rutledge turned abruptly away with a curling lip. "Mistress and maid -together are too much for a plain man like me. I accept whatever -interpretation you choose to put upon it." And he strode angrily down -the stairs. - -"Take off your domino and go down quick!" exclaimed Kitty. - -"Oh Kitty! How can I? I can hardly stand, I am so faint." - -"No matter," she said, inexorably. "Everybody will be wondering if you -don't come, and there's been enough already! Take this, Miss, and do be -brave, and don't give way." - -She poured me out a dose of valerian; I swallowed it, submitted -unquestioningly to her as she smoothed my hair, and arranged my dress -and sent me downstairs. After that it is all a misty sort of dream; I -danced and laughed with a gaiety that startled all who had seen the -recent listlessness of my manner; I was daring, coquettish, brilliant; I -hardly knew what words were on my lips, but they must have been light -and merry, for the others laughed and whispered: "What would absent -friends say to such high spirits!" and arch and coquettish I turned away -to hide the pang their words awoke, and danced--danced till the last -guest had gone and the tired musicians faltered at their task, and the -weary members of the household eagerly turned to their own rooms. Once -in mine, the unnatural tension of my nerves gave way; Kitty laid me on -the bed, and for hours, I fancy, thought it an even chance whether I -ever came out of that death-like swoon or not. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII. - - - "I lived on and on, - As if my heart were kept beneath a glass - And everybody stood, all eyes and ears, - To see and hear it tick," - -E.B. BROWNING. - - -"Mr. Rutledge, sir!" exclaimed the captain, vehemently, bringing his -hand down on the table with a force that made the glasses ring, "it's my -opinion that there's a black mystery to be unravelled yet about that -murder. It's my opinion that all our ears would tingle if we knew the -truth. Certainly, in some inexplicable way, this place is connected with -it. The man lurking about the grounds, the footprints across the -garden-beds, the cravat found at the old summer-house--all seem to point -out this neighborhood as his hiding-place." - -"I cannot see that exactly, Captain McGuffy," returned his host. "I -acknowledge that there is a mystery, and a dark one, yet to be cleared -away from the matter; and that the murderer may have taken a temporary -refuge in the woods near the house, is a possible, though not an -infallible deduction to be drawn from the circumstances you have -mentioned. The fact of garden-beds defaced with footprints on such a -night as that of the masquerade, can hardly excite any surprise; and as -to the suspicious-looking person lurking about the grounds all day, why, -none of the three witnesses who swear to having seen him, can at all -describe his appearance or occupation. A drunken loafer from the village -sleeping off the effects of a night's carouse in the shelter of our -woods, is a much more simple interpretation of it, to my mind." - -The captain shook his head. "I cannot agree with you, sir; I cannot -think that that cravat, blood-stained and soiled, was left in the -summer-house by any village loafer. Village loafers, sir, do not, as a -general thing, wear such cravats, nor stain them with anything darker -than the drippings of their lager-bier." - -"I know you'll all laugh at me,"' said Ellerton Wynkar, "but, absurd as -it is, I can't help thinking I've seen that cravat worn by----. Good -heavens! what's the matter now! Mrs. Churchill, your niece is going to -faint!" - -"Oh no!" said Grace, coolly passing me a glass of water. "Only turning -white and looking distractingly pretty, then rallying a little, and -looking up and saying faintly, 'I'm better, thank you,' and regaining -composure gradually and gracefully. That's the programme. We're quite -used to it by this time. When I have a _fiance_ who must go to Europe, I -shall be perfected in the art of graceful grief if I attend properly to -the example I have now before me." - -"There's one art you're not perfected in at all events," said Phil. - -"What's that, bonnie Phil; what's that?" - -"The art of feeling," said her cousin, shortly. - -"Grace is thoughtless," said her mother, and entered into an apology so -elaborate, that Phil was really distressed, and felt that he had been -most unkind and unjust. He gave his hand to Grace, and said, with an -honest smile: - -"I didn't mean any reproach, Gracie, only you know you _are_ a tease!" - -"But, sir," continued the captain, unable to relinquish the subject that -most interested him, "do you really feel that everything has been done -toward the clearing up of this mystery that lays within your power? -Don't you think that if some stronger measures were taken, some more -detectives placed on the track, the thing might be ferreted out? It's -aggravating to one's feelings to think that the villain may be within -pistol shot of us, and get clear after all." - -"It makes me so nervous," said Ella Wynkar, "I can't sleep at night, and -Josephine makes Frances barricade the doors and windows as if we were -preparing to stand a siege." - -"It's truly horrible," said Josephine, with a shudder. "I wouldn't go -half a dozen yards from the house alone for any consideration." - -"Yes, Joseph, you are a coward, there's no denying it. Mr. Rutledge, -what do you think of a girl of her age looking in all the closets, and -even the bureau drawers, before she goes to bed at night, and making -Frances sit beside her till she gets asleep?" - -"I really think," said Mr. Rutledge, rising from the table, "that you -are all alarming yourselves unnecessarily. Every precaution has been -taken to insure the arrest of any suspicious person, and there is no -danger of any abatement in the zeal and activity of our rustic police. -The woods and neighborhood are swarming with volunteer detectives, and -till the offer of the reward is withdrawn, you may rest assured that -their assiduity will not be. I think the young ladies may omit the -nightly barricading, and excuse Frances from mounting guard after eleven -o'clock. I should not advise your walking very far from the house -unattended, but beyond that, really, I think you need not take any -trouble." - -"And really _I_ think," muttered the captain, as we moved into the hall, -"that he takes it very coolly. Upon my word, I didn't think he was the -man to let such a thing as this be passed over in such an indifferent -way." - -"God bless him for it!" I thought in my heart. - -"Stephen is waiting at the door to speak with you, sir," said Thomas to -his master. Stephen's face expressed such a volume of alarm and -importance, that we involuntarily stopped in the hall, as he answered -Mr. Rutledge's inquiry as to his errand. - -"The body of a man, sir, has just been found in the lake. It has -evidently been there a day or more. The men are down there, sir; I came -immediately up to let you know." - -Mr. Rutledge gave a hurried glance at me, as he said quickly: - -"Possibly one of the laborers. I will go down with you at once." - -Capt. McGuffy, with an I-told-you-so nod to Phil, snatched his hat, and, -followed by the other gentlemen, hurried with Stephen toward the lake. -The ladies, in a frightened group, clustered together on the lawn and -watched them from a distance. - -How well I could have told them who it was, and how long the bloated, -disfigured corpse had lain floating among the reeds and alder-bushes at -the head of the lake! How their ears, indeed, would tingle, if they -should know the quarter part of what I knew. How sleepless and terrified -Josephine's nights might well be, if she knew that a single foot of -brick and mortar was all that separated her from the execrated murderer, -with the horror of whose crime the country rang. How doubly aghast she -would be, if she knew that the murderer was none other than the guest -she had herself invited to Rutledge--the brilliant and clever man whose -admiration she had vainly striven to obtain--the affianced husband of -her cousin! What if they knew all this? What if my brain should give way -under the pressure of this dreadful secret, and I should betray all! -Sometimes I really thought I was losing my reason; the knowledge that I -held the life of another in my own weak hands, made them tremble more; -the keeping of the secret was wearing my very life away; sleepless -nights and wretched days were doing their sure work with me, and the -terrible excitement within, shone out in my eyes and burned in a crimson -spot on each white cheek, throbbed in my quick pulse and sapped the -strength and vigor of my being. I could have wrestled with and overcome -fear and timidity, if they had been all; I could have been brave and -strong, if I had had but his sin to cover, his crime to hide; if I had -been true, if my own heart had been pure of sin, I could have borne it. -But it was the weight of remorse, added to all the rest, that crushed me -to the dust. It was remembering how great a part I had had in Victor's -sin, that took all courage out of my heart. If I had not deceived him, -and allowed him to believe I loved him--would he not now have been safe? -From those first beginnings of pride and resentment, I traced my sin in -regard to him. Whenever they had got a foothold, the soothing flattery -of Victor's love had crept in, to allay and lull the pain they caused. -And I had not remembered to pray in those hours; I had trusted to -myself, and gone on sinning. Just so far as I had been estranged from -duty, and grown cold to holy things, just so far had I gone forward in -the path which had now brought me to such terrible bewilderment. -Whenever I had prayed and repented, his influence and the temptation of -his presence had been weakened or withdrawn; whenever I had listened to -the whispers of wounded pride or determined resentment, his voice had -been at my ear, his love laid at my feet. When little Essie's death had -drawn my thoughts awhile toward heaven, and made me realize the -littleness and impotence of pride and wrath, and the insignificance of -things seen, the power and eternity of things unseen, he had been -forgotten and indifferent; but so soon as I had allowed the return of -worldliness, so soon had I found myself snared in hypocrisy and deceit -toward him. The little sins of every day, they had tempted me on to -where I now stood. It was so easy to look back and see it all--how one -slight omission of duty had led to another--how one moment of indulgence -had weakened self-control--one disregard of truth had grown into the -tyrant sin from which I could not now release myself; struggle as I -might, I was helpless in its grasp. Every step but plunged me deeper; -every word was but a fresh deceit. - -I saw Victor that evening for a few moments; Kitty had watched long for -a safe chance to admit me. Mrs. Roberts, contrary to all precedent, had -taken her knitting and seated herself in one of the hall windows, -declaring that it was the coolest place in the house, and there remained -the whole afternoon. There was nothing to induce her to do it but the -obstinate instincts of her nature, to which she was ever true. She may -have had some lurking suspicion that there was "something going on" -upstairs, and though entirely ignorant of its nature, she could not -doubt its evil tendency, believing as she had reason to, that Kitty was -concerned in it. She had encountered that young person on the stairs -after dinner, with a surreptitious plate of confectionery and fruit from -dessert. Kitty had readily answered upon demand, that it was for her -young lady; and Mrs. Roberts had very tartly remarked that in _her_ -time, young ladies thought it best manners to eat as much as they wanted -at the table, and not take the credit of being delicate, and then have -extra plates of good things brought up to their rooms. Kitty could -hardly brook the implied taunt, but she had to swallow it. She hovered -anxiously around all the afternoon, inventing all manner of excuses to -get Mrs. Roberts away, but to no avail, and it was only after dusk, when -she had at last withdrawn to order tea, that Kitty eagerly beckoned me -to follow her to the door of the hidden room, that had always had such a -mysterious awe in my eyes. - -As I crept through the narrow space between the wardrobe and the door, I -grasped Kitty's hand with an involuntary shudder. "Don't go away," I -whispered. - -"No, Miss. I'll stay just outside the door and watch, and you must come -the very minute I tap at it, for Mrs. Roberts will be back as soon as -ever she has given out the things for tea. I won't go away, don't be -afraid, Miss." - -The twilight was too dim for me to distinguish anything as Kitty closed -the door softly behind me, and I groped my way into the room. "Victor!" -I said, in a whisper, as no sound met my ear. - -A dark figure between me and the faint light of the window, started -forward as I spoke, and, in another moment, my hands were grasped in -hands as cold and trembling. Did it give me a shudder to remember the -work those hands had done in the grey shadowy twilight, one short week -before? I tried not to think of it. I tried to remember it was the man -who loved me--who had risked his life for my love. But crime and remorse -had strangely darkened and changed him. There was a wild sort of despair -in his very tenderness--a fierce recklessness when he spoke of the -future; I tried in vain to reassure myself and soothe him, but I quailed -before a nature, beside the strength of whose passion, all that I had -known or seen of despair and desperation faded into insignificance. A -weak man can sin weakly, and bewail it feebly and with tears: a strong -man, who is hurried into crime by the very intensity and strength, of -his nature, turns fiercely upon the remorse that besets him; the very -gall of bitterness is his repentance--blood and curses are the tears he -sheds. - -Tenderness and confidence shrunk back affrighted from such contact; I -trembled in his grasp, and he caught a suspicion of my fear. I never -shall forget the agony of the gesture with which he released me, and -turning away, buried his face in his hands. I started forward, and -tried, in faltering accents, to assure him of--what? The words died on -my lips. At that moment there was a hurried tap at the door, and Kitty's -voice whispered: - -"Quick!" - -"There is your release!" he exclaimed, bitterly. "You have done your -duty; draw a long breath, and hurry back into the light and freedom of -the outer world. Quick! I must not keep you." - -"You are wrong," I murmured, "I must go, but it is just as dark and -miserable outside to me, as it is here for you. Don't fancy, Victor, -that there is any pleasure for me now." - -"You need not remind me of that!" he exclaimed, sinking down, and bowing -his face on the table before him. "You need not remind me of that! I -know I have dragged you down with me in my fall, and it is the cruellest -thought in all my cruel anguish; but you shall be freed--be sure you -shall be freed!" - -"Why will you talk so strangely, Victor? What have I done to make you -doubt me now? I would die to serve you--I have no other thought than how -to save you from the danger that threatens"---- - -Kitty shook the door impatiently, and implored me to come out. - -"I must go, Victor," I whispered. "Will you not speak to me? Good -night." - -I bent over him, and touched my lips to his forehead, and then groped my -way hastily to the door. He did not move or speak, and I turned back -irresolutely, to beg him for a word of forgiveness, but Kitty, opening -the door, caught me by the hand, and pulled me out. - -"They are all asking for you; Miss Josephine has been upstairs for you, -and when she came down and said you weren't in your room, master looked -so white, and started up so frightened, that the others all caught it of -him, and began to call you and hunt all about for you; and I couldn't -let you know, for old Roberts was marching up and down the hall, and -keeping her eyes all about her. She's gone into her room a minute--now's -your chance; run right down the private staircase--there's nobody in the -butler's pantry--go out on the piazza, and so around to the front door. -Quick! She's coming back!" - -I should have done anything Kitty told me to do at that moment. It was -lucky for me she was the clear-headed, ingenious girl she was. I ran -downstairs, and hurried round the piazza. At the hall door I paused a -moment, and leaned against one of the pillars, to recover myself before -I entered. Some one hurrying out of the house brushed against me. An -exclamation of surprise and relief escaped his lips, and looking up, I -saw Mr. Rutledge. - -"Where have you been?" he asked, abruptly. - -The suddenness of the question, and my miserable nervousness, overcame -my self-possession entirely. I struggled in vain to speak, but ended by -putting my face in my hands, and bursting into a flood of tears. - -"You are not well," he said, kindly, taking my hand and drawing me to a -seat. "You are very unhappy. I cannot bear to see you suffer so. Will -you not tell me what it is, and let me help you?" - -"No one can help me--no one can do me the least good." - -"You think so, perhaps; but you do not know how far I might. You do not -know how much I would sacrifice to see you happy again. If you will only -confide to me the anxiety that I see is killing you, I will promise to -further your wishes, and to endeavor to relieve your mind, at the cost -of anything to myself except my honor." - -I shook my head. "You cannot help me--no one can." - -"If it is only grief at parting with your lover," he went on, quickly, -"I cannot do you any good; but if it is what I fear for you, I can -perhaps advise you--perhaps materially aid you. Trust in me for this; -show the confidence in me that you have hitherto refused, and you shall -see how well I will serve you--how unselfishly and unreservedly I will -try to restore you to happiness." - -Pity can make the human face almost like the face of an angel; there is -no emotion that is so transforming. When pride, self-will, and -selfishness, resign their sway, and pity, heaven-born and god-like, -dawns, all that is mean, and coarse, and earthly, seems to fade before -it, to grow dumb and quiet in the calm radiance of its risen fullness. -Such pity beamed on me now, but its healing and tenderness came too -late, - - "As on the uprooted flower, the genial rain." - -"You are very kind," I murmured; "but there is nothing anybody can do -for me." - -He rose sadly. "I will not torment you, then. Will you come into the -house? If you desire to go to your room, I will manage your excuses for -you." - -With almost inaudible thanks, I hurried into the hall and upstairs. My -aunt came up in the course of the evening, but Kitty represented me as -"just going to sleep," and I was spared an interview. - -"Kitty!" I exclaimed, starting up, long after she had fancied I was -soothed to sleep, "how--how will it all end? What is to become of him -after we go? It was decided yesterday that we leave in two days' time, -and you know it will not be safe for him to think of escape till the -excitement has died away in the country. Poor Victor! What is to become -of him?" - -"Don't fret," said Kitty, soothingly, "even if you have to leave him -here, there'll be no more danger for him than if you stayed. Mr. -Rutledge is going too, you know, and the house will be shut up, and it -will be safer, if anything, than now. I'll write you every day of my -life, and tell you how things go on. And, depend upon it, the worst of -the danger is over. Since this body has been found in the lake, people -will begin to content themselves that there's no use in looking further -for the murderer--that he did it and then drowned himself in despair. -Michael hasn't brought up the news of the inquest yet--he's waiting in -the village to hear it; but I've no manner of doubt what it'll be. -Everybody knows he and the doctor had dealings together, and that, with -the character he bears, will tell against him." - -"You don't suppose he had any papers about him that might do Victor -harm?" - -"If he had had, they wouldn't be of any use now; they've been in the -water too long to serve any purpose, good or bad. No, Black John, as -they call him, will have to bear the credit of the crime he was hunting -poor Mr. Victor to death for. There ain't many that he didn't deserve to -take the credit of. Everybody knows that he was nothing slow at all -manner of wickedness, and it seems the likeliest thing in the world that -he should do the devil's work; and, mark my words, before a week is -over, there won't be man, woman or child in the country round, that -won't curse Black John as Dr. Hugh's murderer. It won't do him much harm -now, poor wretch; a few curses more or less won't make much difference -to him where he is now, I suppose." - -"Had he a wife?" - -"A drunken, half-crazy thing. She spends her time between the poor-house -and the grog-shop. She'll never mind about her husband, beyond howling -for an hour or two when she first hears it, if she happens to be sober. -Now, Miss, don't think any more about it, but try to go to sleep. You'll -be quite worn out." - -And Kitty threw herself upon her mattress by my bed, where she now -slept, and, faithfullest and tenderest of attendants, never left me, day -or night. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV. - - - "Nor peace nor ease, the heart can know, - That, like the needle true, - Turns at the touch of joy or woe, - But, turning, trembles too." - -GREVILLE. - - -"Things seem to be taking a new turn," said the captain, meditatively, -over his coffee the next morning. "I own I thought we were at the bottom -of the mystery, yesterday, but this woman's testimony seems to set us -all adrift again, and we're no nearer a conclusion than we were a week -ago." - -"What woman's?" asked Ellerton, who had just come in. - -"The man's wife," said the captain. - -"What man's?" demanded Ella, who generally arrived at a subject about -ten minutes after it had been introduced. - -"Why the man who was supposed to have murdered the doctor, Miss Ella, -and whose body was found in the lake. We were all mightily relieved -yesterday, and thought the murderer had found his reward, and were only -sorry that he'd cheated the hangman. But in the meantime his wife turns -up, and brings a lot of things to light; swears that on the night of the -murder he was at Brandon, on an errand for the doctor, and brings the -landlord and barkeeper of the 'Brandon Shades' to testify to his -remaining there till after eleven o'clock. She also states that the -doctor and her husband were on good terms, and that the doctor often -employed him in a confidential way; that there was a person who, she -knew, bore malice against the doctor; she had overheard a conversation -between her husband and Dr. Hugh, in which"---- - -"But her testimony goes for nothing," I interrupted, eagerly. "She is -well known to be half crazy, and hardly ever sober. Her testimony can't -be worth a straw--nobody would listen to her for a moment." - -"I don't know about that; her story hangs together, she's sober enough -now, and will be kept so till they have done with her. She says that the -doctor came to their shanty late the night before the murder, and called -John out; she crept to the keyhole and listened. She lost a good deal of -what they said for a little while, they talked so low; then John raised -his voice, and said with an oath, he'd take down the villain's pride for -him a bit; he wondered the doctor had stood his cursed ugliness so long; -for his part, he'd put a bullet through him to-morrow, with pleasure. -The doctor hushed him, and said, 'Not so fast, John, not so fast, wait -awhile; we must get a little more out of him before we send him to his -long account. We'll settle up old scores with pleasure, after we've no -further use for him. Attend to this little errand for me to-morrow, and -don't let him slip, and that'll be the first step toward a reckoning.'" - -"Well, but I cannot see," said Mr. Rutledge, "what it all amounts to, -even if the woman's testimony is received, which is more than doubtful. -She didn't hear any names. Nobody has any doubt but that the doctor had -plenty of enemies, and that her man John was a scoundrel, and I cannot -see what else her evidence goes to prove." - -"It goes to prove that there was _somebody_ with whom the doctor was not -on good terms, who has not appeared on the stage as yet, and of whom we -want to get hold. It goes to prove, my dear sir, that the man John was -sent to Brandon on a matter in some way connected with this person; and, -to my mind, when we shall have, found out who that person was, we shall -have found out who was the murderer of Dr. Hugh!" - -"But," said Phil, "what do the barkeeper and landlord of 'The Shades' -say? Don't they know who he came to meet, and for whom he waited till -eleven?" - -"John, it seems, 'kept dark,' lounged around the bar-room, and spoke -little to any one, as was his manner, but went often to the door, and -seemed to wait for some one. The barkeeper thinks, but is not sure, that -it was he who was there once before during the morning, with a letter -which he left, directed to a gentleman whose name he has forgotten, who -never called for it." - -"Ah!" cried Phil, "now we shall get at it, I think. What became of the -letter?" - -"The letter," interrupted Mr. Rutledge, "the letter that was left there -that morning"---- - -I crushed the newspaper that lay beside me with my nervous hand; I -smothered the cry that trembled on my lips, but my eyes burned on his -face. He avoided them and went on. - -"The letter which was left there by some one, who, it is conjectured, -only _conjectured_, may have been this man, was addressed to some person -not at all known in Brandon, and who never came for it. It was opened -and examined, and proved to be only the business circular of some -importing house in New York. So all idea of tracing anything from that -was given up, and the letter thrown aside." - -"Strange," said Phil, thoughtfully. "I should have thought something -could have been made out of it. In a small place like Brandon, where -everybody knows everybody, I should have thought that the circumstance -of a strange name on a letter left at a little tavern would have excited -some interest." - -"Brandon is a railway station, you know, and consequently there are -strangers always coming and going." - -"Do you remember the name on the letter, sir?" - -"Some foreign name, I think. Captain McGuffy, do you remember it?" said -Mr. Rutledge, indifferently. - -"I don't think I heard it," returned the captain. "And I really have -the curiosity to want to know something more about that letter, though -all the legal gentlemen, I know, have decided against its usefulness in -the case. I must remember to ask Judge Talbot to let me look at it," he -continued, taking out his memorandum-book and making an entry. "Phil, -don't you feel like taking a drive over to Brandon with me, this -morning, and seeing if there's anything new to be learned?" - -"Captain McGuffy," I exclaimed, "don't you want to do me a favor? I am -perfectly wild to have a ride on horseback this morning, and you know -you promised to give me some lessons in 'cavalry practice' before we -left, and there is only one day more. What do you say to a canter over -to Windy Hill this fine morning?" - -The captain fell in with the proposition very readily, and Mr. Rutledge -suggested that it would be a very good arrangement for all of the party -to accompany us, in the carriage and open wagon, and to make our -farewell call, also, to the Emersons. - -"To-morrow may not be fine," said Mr. Rutledge, "and perhaps we had -better secure to-day." - -The rest were agreed, and we hurried off to dress; as the two places -were far distant from each other and from Rutledge, it was necessary to -start as soon as possible. In my dread lest Phil should decline being of -the party, and should ride over to Brandon by himself, I called out to -him to know if he would not accept an appointment in my regiment? He -laughed, and accepted; and unheeding the flaming battery of Josephine's -eyes, I ran up to put on my habit. There was another lady's horse in the -stable, besides the one I should use, but Josephine and Ella, though -dying to ride, would neither of them volunteer to accompany me. - -"You are too nervous to ride, Miss," said Kitty, as she buttoned my -gloves. "See how your hand shakes. Why will you go? You are not fit." - -"I must; there is no help. Tell him why I go, Kitty, and that I will be -back as soon as I can, and you must manage to let me see him in the -course of the afternoon. And be sure you make him understand about my -going." - -Glorious Madge! I had never expected to mount her again. I had never -expected to burden her with such a heavy heart. What a contrast to the -daring young rider of a few short months ago. Madge Wildfire was as -eager and untamed as then, but not so her mistress. Her mistress, the -fire quenched in her eye, the pride of her free step humbled, the -courage of her spirit broken, trembled at the very beauty of the animal -she rode. - -"You are not fit for this," said Mr. Rutledge, in a low tone, as he put -me in the saddle. "You had better give it up. It is not too late; let -one of the others take your place." - -"No, thank you. I shall be better for the ride." - -"Captain McGuffy, you must remember your pupil is rather inexperienced," -he said, uneasily, as the captain mounted and rode up beside me. "Madge -has not been used for some time, and she is feeling very fine." - -"No danger," said the captain, as, followed by Phil, we trotted rapidly -down the avenue. There must have been a touch of human intelligence and -sympathy in Madge; she was burning to be off on a mad race across the -country; she was fairly throbbing with impatience; my weak grasp upon -her bridle she could have thrown off with one toss of her arched neck; -but, quivering with life and fire as she was, she restrained her pace to -suit my fears, and minded my slightest touch, with more than human -gentleness. By degrees, I came to realize this, and reassured and -emboldened, I sat more firmly and rode less timidly. The cool air of the -morning braced and strengthened my nerves; I could hardly have believed -that I could have felt so differently in so short a time, and every foot -of ground we put between us and Rutledge, seemed to distance just so -far my anxiety and wretchedness. My companions amused themselves, and -thought they were amusing me, by reminiscences of military adventures, -frontier experiences, and camp life; which served to keep them occupied, -and give me time to rest and recover myself. When we rode into the lodge -gate at Windy Hill, I was indeed so much better for my ride, that even -Phil noticed the change in my expression. - -"You ought to have ridden every day while we have been here. You must -ride to-morrow by all means." - -We were the first of the party to arrive, and had been seated in the -parlor some minutes, enjoying the prattle of the Misses Mason, before -the others drove up. All were made hugely welcome. One is surest of -appreciation, socially, in a visit to a lonely country place, where -visitors are at a premium, and where there are pining young daughters, -and unemployed young sons, and a hospitable head of the family, to swell -the note of welcome. All these elements of hospitality we found at Windy -Hill; never were guests more welcome, and the only doubt seemed to be, -whether we should ever be allowed to go. Lunch did not suffice, we must -stay to dinner. Mason _pere_ said it should be so, and Mason _fils_ -ordered the carriage away, and the horses taken out. Mrs. Churchill -pleaded our toilets, but was overruled. Mr. Rutledge advanced the -necessity for our visit at Beech Grove as an obstacle. That should be no -objection. After dinner the young people should join us, and we could -all go together. There being really no reason why we should not accept -this hospitality, it was at last decided we should remain. The morning -slipped away very fast; there was a great deal to be seen about the -place; fine views and pretty walks on every hand, outside, and a library -and picture-gallery full of interest within. New merchandisable -interest, that is. The Masons had just returned from Europe, and had -brought with them whatever had been procurable for money, unbacked by -taste or judgment. The result was, a good many pictures in rather -questionable taste, but framed and hung unexceptionably; a great deal of -so-so statuary, engravings bought by the portfolio, and "gems of art," -bearing about the same relation to high art, that the contents of some -jeweller's show-case, in Chatham street, bears to the Koh-i-noor. My -particular friend, the younger Mr. Mason, attended me through the -library and picture-gallery; and though the names of the pictures and -the prices of the books seemed to be the items that he was most familiar -with, I could not but admire the grasp of mind that could master and -retain such dry statistics. By the time that dinner was announced, I -felt that we had earned it, so much listening, looking, admiring had we -done. - -Dinner at the Masons' was never a brief meal; the master of the house -had known too much of short commons in his boyhood, and eighteen-penny -lunches at second-rate eating-houses during his clerkship, not to place -a full value upon the luxuries of the table; and on the present occasion -nothing was wanting to make it an elaborate and elegant repast, -honorable to guests and entertainers. It was five o'clock before we left -the table, and fully six before we were in the saddle. The ride to Beech -Grove occupied another hour; a mere call, of course, was impossible. We -were quite as cordially, though rather less enthusiastically, welcomed -by Mr. Emerson and his black-eyed daughter; the horses were again sent -away, and we were told to consider ourselves prisoners for the evening. -Not a very dreary and insupportable prison, certainly, we were condemned -to. Beech Grove was a lovely spot; the house, about one-third the size -of the one we had just left, was a gem in point of architectural beauty -and tasteful decoration. Cultivation and refinement spoke at every -turn--choice pictures, rare books, exquisite bronzes, were the natural -and unobtrusive furniture of the rooms; one was not called upon to -admire by anything more demonstrative than quiet enjoyment and ease. It -was the atmosphere of the place that one was to revel in; and no -obligation existed to analyze its component parts. - -The realization of the speedy termination of our pleasant intercourse, -at least for the present, gave a very natural charm to the evening, and -made it a very prolonged and happy one. At least, to those of us who had -not forgotten how to be happy; for me, I could hardly remember when I -had not been wretched, so agonizingly long and miserable had the past -fortnight been, and so strongly had it marked itself on my memory. I -looked with a kind of wonder at the light-heartedness of my companions. -Was it possible I had ever found anything to laugh at in such things as -called forth their merriment, or anything to stir my anger in their -puerile slights and taunts? Grace was vexed by my indifference, and -tried, with no contemptible ingenuity, to irritate me; and Josephine and -Ella too, resented my determined appropriation of their beaux. I was too -listless though, at last they found, to make it pay to tease me; so, by -degrees, they dropped off and left me. Even Mr. Mason, it was evident, -was beginning to think that he had overrated my spirit, and the captain, -that my overtures of the morning did not mean quite so much, after all, -as he had flattered himself. Miss Emerson, who was a nice, bright girl, -not in the least afraid of herself or of any one else, and with whom one -felt intimate after half an hour's acquaintance, ran up to me and asked -me _sotto voce_, if it didn't bore me to death to have that man talk to -me; she was sure I looked tired, and she meant to relieve me; so, with -some clever excuse, in a few minutes she hurried me off to the library, -made me lie on the sofa while she sat beside me, and chatted with me in -her peculiarly piquant and amusing manner. It was very nice and -comfortable to be treated so; but I could not help wondering what her -other guests would think of her for absenting herself from them so much. -It was a matter of very little moment to Miss Janet, however, what any -one but "Papa" thought of her, and she was sure of a tender judgment -from him always; but at last it seemed to strike her that even he might -consider it rather negligent to leave the parlor so long, so springing -up, she said: - -"I must go back to those people; but remember, you are not to stir; or, -yes, you may sit here by the table, and look over these engravings. You -are not fit to be dragged about making visits; they're a set of heathens -to make you go. I know you hate it. What _is_ the matter, really, now?" -she said, abruptly, stooping over me, and fixing her black eyes on my -face. "You don't look like the same girl latterly. If I hadn't known you -before, I should have thought you were tiresome and mopish and had no -spirit. I like you better than your French cousins, and I wish you'd -come and stay with me. Won't you? I'll make Papa coax Mrs. Churchill to -let you stay after they go." - -I shook my head and sighed. - -"You look as if it were no use to talk about it; but I don't give it up, -though I must go to the parlor. I shall come back and look after you -every little while, and I'm going to send some one to entertain you -while I'm gone." - -"Oh! I'd rather not--I'd rather be quiet"---- - -Miss Janet shook her head with a very pretty determined shake. - -"You shall have somebody that won't bore you--somebody that I like and -that you like; the only man here, in point of fact, worth talking to, -except Papa," and she ran off. - -I leaned back in my chair and tried to be patient; since we left Windy -Hill every minute had grown longer than the last. I had been in a fever -of anxiety about the effect our absence might produce on Victor. I knew -his morbid bitterness would construe it into a willful thing on my part, -and that the neglect would seem unpardonable and cruel. The evening had -seemed interminable, and no one dreamed of going yet. - -In a few moments I heard Miss Emerson's voice in the hall, and Mr. -Rutledge's in reply. "Of course, since you desire it, I will do my best -to be entertaining; but you know you have not told me who it is I am to -devote myself to." - -"O, you shall see for yourself; go in the library, she is there, and be -sure you amuse and please her, for she's my particular favorite," and -with a laugh and a nod, she left him in the door. - -Mr. Rutledge started a little, and did not look very much pleased when -he recognized me; but there was no help, so he sat down beside me at the -table. - -"Miss Emerson told me she should send some one to entertain me. I didn't -know she meant to send you." - -"Is there any one you would prefer? Mr. Arbuthnot, the captain, or your -heavy adorer, Mr. Theodore Mason? You need not hesitate to tell me. I -will resign in favor of any one you name." - -I was too miserable to be angry at his tone; with a languid movement of -my hand, I answered: - -"If you are willing to stay, sir, there is no one I should like so -well." - -"It is not often you allow yourself in anything so gracious as that. I -will stay with pleasure. But Miss Emerson says I must entertain you--I -must be agreeable. Now, though I dare not, for my life, disobey anything -so blackeyed and imperious, still I haven't the first idea how to -proceed, and unless you give me a hint, I am certain I shall fail. What -shall I talk about? What do young ladies like, literature or -gossip--people or things?" - -"My tastes haven't changed, Mr. Rutledge; you used to find no difficulty -in talking to me--at least, I never supposed it cost you much effort, -and you always succeeded in entertaining me; so if that is honestly your -object to-night, I do not think you need be at a loss." - -"What did I use to talk about, when I amused you, if ever I was so -happy? If you would give me a suggestion"---- - -He turned his eyes full on me, as I answered: "When you first used to -talk to me, you seemed to think me a very foolish, frightened child, and -were very kind and gentle. Then, after you had found out I was old -enough to understand you, and clever enough to appreciate you, you used -to talk to me about your travels, and the people you had met, the -countries you had seen. Sometimes you would talk to me about books, and -make me tell you what ones I liked, and after you were convinced, I was -prejudiced and enthusiastic enough to make it worth your while to oppose -me, you would amuse yourself by contradicting and thwarting me. Then you -would suddenly change and be kind--oh! so kind!--and treat me as if I -were fit to be your friend and your companion; you would tell me about -the world that I had only dreamed of then; you warned me of its danger, -its heartlessness and treachery; you counselled me, and talked as if you -really cared what became of me; you told me the world was full of -coldness and unkindness, but oh! you did not tell me half you might have -told me about that. Then, sometimes--not often--you would tell me some -slight thing about yourself; you looked sterner and colder than ever -when you did; your eye would flash, and your lip would curl--some unseen -chain would gall you when you thought of the Past; something that came -with its memory humbled you, you hated it, you hated yourself; but I -liked you--I liked you better then than when you were talking to please -me, or to instruct me, or to please or instruct other people; you were -involuntary then--you were yourself--and though I liked you in those -days whatever you did, I liked you best of all when you talked of -yourself." - -"Then I will talk of myself now; I have promised to entertain you, and -you have told me how to do it. They are dancing in the parlor now, and -the music and the laughing will screen us from them; you can listen at -your ease, and be entertained without fear of interruption. I believe -you when you say you like to hear me talk of myself, because it pleases -me to believe it, and men, you know, will go great lengths to believe -anything that suits their vanity. - -"But first, you will not mind anything that I may say--you will not -shrink and blush? Remember, it is a man's life, and not a woman's, that -you are to hear about--a dark life, and not a prosperous one--and to -make it vivid to you, I must show you the blackness of the shadow and -the depth of the gloom; you must know what the trial has been before you -can know what grim strength was needed to endure it--what coldness and -sternness, as you call them, to keep down the pain within. You are a -child no longer; you know something of what suffering is, so I can tell -you with some hope of pity, if you will listen and not be dainty--if you -will forget all about yourself, and think only of what you hear. Can you -be such a listener? Such only are worthy of confidence. I never found -one before, but I will try you. Do you hear the rumbling of that distant -thunder? How strangely it mixes with the music across the hall! There is -a storm coming up; we cannot go home for two hours yet, and they will -not tire of dancing even then"---- - -There was a keen, piercing flash of lightning. - -"Does it make you nervous? You used to be afraid in thunder-storms." - -"I don't mind the lightning any more than the flare of the candle -to-night, Mr. Rutledge. Why don't you go on with what you promised to -tell me?" - -"I will not begin by telling you about my childhood; a happy childhood -is a thing to be enjoyed once in reality, and forever in memory, but not -to be talked about; no one but the man himself can see the least pathos -or deliciousness in the details and recollections of his nursery days; -to others they are weariness and folly; to him they are the sweetest -pages in his memory; but he must not hope to find there is any other -than himself who can see any interest in them. Perhaps his mother, if -God spares her to him--perhaps the woman whom he has taught to love him, -and to whom he is all the world--perhaps his young children, before they -have learned their perfect lesson of egotism and selfishness--may listen -as if the story were their own; but I have found no one to whom I could -be egotistical and not be wearisome; I have found that most people like -to hear about themselves, and I have not thwarted them. - -"But you shall hear of what I have told no one else." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXV. - - - ----"Of all sad words of tongue or pen, - The saddest are these: 'It might have been!" - -Whittier. - - -And I did hear it; I heard during the slow gathering and heavy bursting -of that summer storm, the story about which my imagination had been so -busy, and of which I had so longed to be assured; I heard from Mr. -Rutledge's own lips, of his happy childhood, his hopeful boyhood. He -described himself as he was then, as if he were describing some one -else, some one who had died and left the light of day; for it was -nothing else but death that passed upon him, a death to hope and faith, -a death to tenderness and trust, a death to all but stern endurance and -sufferings that make life worse than death. If he had not been just so -enthusiastic and full of hope, he could not have been so dashed down to -despair; but because he had never dreamed that there could be anything -but truth and purity and honor in those he loved, just so cruel and -fatal was the awakening from the dream. He told me of his brother, the -handsome Richard: with a soul too refined and delicate for the rough -world he had to do with, a temperament that recoiled with pain from all -that was coarse or common, a pride that was so intuitive that it could -hardly be overcome, so unconscious that it could hardly be called a sin, -so fostered that he, at least, was not to blame for it. To him it was -not matter of exultation that he was rich and well-born and high-bred; -it was only his native air, his place in life, his vital breath, without -which he must have died. Never overbearing and imperious, his reserve -saved him from familiarity, his gentleness from aversion. Ah! Rutledge -had then a worthy heir, noble, handsome, high-toned enough to fill even -his proud father's ambition. - -And then he told me, and it cost him a keen pang to speak her name, of -Alice, his beautiful sister; of the adoration with which he had looked -up to her, the pride which every one of the narrow home circle felt in -her loveliness and grace. He had believed she was almost an angel; he -had never looked above her for purity and truth, and in one cruel moment -he had to learn that she was false and sinful, that she had fallen below -the lowest, that "she had mixed her ancient blood with shame," that the -darling and pride of every heart was now the disgrace and anguish of -every heart. - -The story that he told me did not sound at all like this; I could no -more tell it as he told it, than I could paint one of Church's pictures. -I could, perhaps, describe, so as to make intelligible, the picture or -the story, but it would be as impossible for me to render faithfully, in -every delicate tone and touch, in the masterly strength and vivid power, -the one as the other. - -I listened with every pulse; my heart stopped, spellbound, before that -story; not even my own life could have had more interest to me than his; -and vaguely--but oh! how bitterly--it began to dawn upon me, that once I -might have had the power to have made the past forgotten in the present, -to have won him to believe in love and truth once more; that in my fatal -choice I had not doomed myself alone, that three souls, instead of my -own sinning one, were writhing now under the curse of my folly and -deceit. Alice Rutledge's name had perished forever from the records of -the good and pure; where would mine be, when the secrets of all hearts -should be revealed? Not among the good, with a lie on my lips, a -life-long hypocrisy to be carried in my heart; not among the pure, -cherishing yet this unconquered passion, while in the sight of Heaven I -was breaking a vow only less sacred than the one I must make before the -altar. But it is her story and not mine I am to tell. - -If human love and care could suffice to keep any soul, under the -pressure of a strong temptation, Alice Rutledge might have been safe; -yet environed and hemmed in with affection, she fell; honor, pride, -filial love, were powerless to keep her back. The only principle that -can save man or woman in the hour when the powers of darkness have leave -to try them, she lacked, and lacking that, fell hopelessly from the -earthly paradise which alone she had lived for or regarded. The fair, -frail daughter of a godless house, the child whose glance had never been -directed to anything higher than virtue and honor, to whom no principle -more binding than that of morality had been taught, whose frailty had -never been strengthened by any aid more powerful and enduring than the -yearning fondness of the hearts that doted on her; what wonder that when -the powers of hell assaulted her, no strength could stand against them -that was not divine, no work stand in that day, that was of wood, or -hay, or stubble, no work that had not Heaven's own seal to resist the -devouring flame! - -All that the wit and knowledge and virtue of man could teach, Alice -Rutledge had been taught; but the only lesson that could have done her -any good in that day, she had never learned. The lesson that she should -have lisped at her mother's knee, that should have been implanted before -any earthly desire had taken root in her flexile soul, had never been -given to her. The "sign to angels known," had not marked her -baby-forehead, holy hands had not overshadowed her before the strife -began, all her goodness and strength were of the earth, earthy, and the -prince of this world won an easy victory over them. When temptation -came, it found her careless, secure. How was it a possible thing for her -to fall? Why need she renounce what was but a pleasant dream, as -innocent as it was secret. She was promised to one whom she had meant to -love; she had, perhaps, loved him at first, but with a shade too much -of awe to make it perfect love, and the weakness and timidity of her -nature made her shrink involuntarily from what was higher and stronger, -and cling to what was lower, and nearer to her own level. And so she -yielded, little by little, to the fascinations of an intercourse that, -had she listened to it, even her own weak heart would have told her was -a sin. She was bound by betrothal, her tempter was bound by marriage; if -the glamour of destruction had not been over her already, she could have -seen the madness of such an intimacy, the sure perdition that such a -violation of right, even in thought, must lead to. But it was the very -impossibility and security that ensnared her, that blinded those around -her. Richard's dearest friend, the most desired and welcome guest at her -father's house, the most accomplished and refined gentleman she knew, -how could she see in him the traitor that he was? She, almost a child in -years and inexperience, and he, a man of the world, with the world's -worst principles, and withal, so wily, so eloquent, so impassioned, was -it strange that before she dreamed of danger, she was snared beyond -redemption. The destruction of her principles had been so gradual, the -instilling of his so artful, that the work was nearly done before the -lost girl saw her peril. Then, no one can tell the struggles of her -tempted soul; duty and reason against sinful love and guilty passion; -but who can question for a moment which way the balance turned? There -was none of whom she could ask counsel. She had deceived and outraged -all she loved, so shamefully, by the very thought of what now tempted -her, that it was worse than death to betray in the least her misery. The -one to whom at last she turned, was the one least fitted to direct her; -her companion, governess and friend was only less worldly and -thoughtless than her charge; she loved her with all her heart, would -have sacrificed anything to serve her; she never dreamed of the danger -she was in till too late; terrified, she strove to bring her back to -reason, but in vain. Alice's was the stronger will, and she weakly -yielded to it, and became the reluctant tool in the hands of the -seducer. - -In one awful moment it burst upon the proud old man that his name was -branded with disgrace, his daughter fled, his love outraged, his honor -stabbed a deadly blow; all that he had lived for lost; all that he had -hoped for blighted. - -In that household there was such amazement and wrath and desolation as -are horrible but to imagine. Love outraged most cruelly, friendship -betrayed most vilely, all that was pure turned into sin, all that was -true turned false. In one short hour, the pride of that ungodly home was -humbled to the dust, its fair name stained with shame, its very life's -blood oozing from that cruel wound. "Therefore revenge became it well?" -Therefore the agony that nothing else could allay, should seek to dull -itself in vengeance, should hunt to the very death the shameless -traitor? Should hurl blighting curses on the head of her who had brought -this ruin on her home? - -But God stayed the impotent wrath of man. He took the vengeance that -alone is His, in His own hands; the curses that the outraged father -called down on his erring child, clustered, a black and ghastly troop, -around his own dying bed, and shut off the last ray of mercy. Before a -hand could be raised to deal vengeance, death struck down the father, -and but few days and nights of anguish and solicitude had passed before -his heir lay dead beside him, and the life of the boy who alone of all -survived, lay trembling in the balance. For a long while it seemed -uncertain whether God had not forgotten the race that had so long -forgotten Him; whether He had not turned away His face, and they should -all die and turn again to their dust; whether the memory of them should -not be rooted off of the earth, and their name perish from among the -children of men. For a long while, the boy lay between life and death, -but when at last life conquered, and he came back to the changed and -desolated world, it was with but little gratitude for the boon that had -been granted him, with almost a loathing of the life that had been -spared to him. - -It is not necessary to the purposes of my story nor will it further its -elucidation, to repeat the history of the years that followed. It is -sufficient that they were years of misanthropy and misery, almost of -infidelity. Travel, change, society, neither attracted nor soothed him; -the life he led it suited no one to join him in, and in the midst of the -world he lived unmolested by it and regardless of it. At last--what need -to tell when or how--there came an awakening; he saw the truth he had -been so long shutting his eyes from, he saw God's mercy and his own sin, -and rousing from his apathy he bent himself to the work that lay before -him. We know what that work was, and how well he fulfilled it; from the -misanthropic recluse, he became the Christian. I knew all this, and much -more, that he did not tell me. - -"The story has been too long already, I will leave you now," said Mr. -Rutledge with a sudden change of voice; "I have finished my office of -_raconteur_, you have listened well; almost I could swear to having seen -a tear glisten in your eye, almost I could take my oath you have not -once thought of yourself and your young lady sensibilities, but have -been absorbed to forgetfulness of them all by the story of one who is -almost a stranger to you, quite a stranger, indeed, you said not long -ago." - -"I did not mean that when I said it, Mr. Rutledge, I repented of it a -minute afterward. And I want to say to you now--I am sorry from my heart -for that, and the many other hypocrisies you know I have been guilty of. -You don't know all, you would despise me if you did; if you knew how -cowardly I have been, and how deceitful. I have not meant it; I have -said a hundred things that I have cried for afterward, that I never -would have said if I had not been too proud and too angry to have -controlled myself. But believe me, I am miserably sorry now. Will you -forgive me?" - -He leaned forward for a moment on the table, and shading his eyes with -his hand, fixed them on my face. "Forgive you?" he said in a low, clear -tone, "Forgive you? no--not yet--you must not ask it yet! When I have -conquered _my_ pride and _my_ passion, you may ask me to forgive you, -but not now--not now!" - -"Aunt Edith, do you want me?" I faltered, starting up. Mrs. Churchill -moved from where she stood beside the doorway and entered the room. - -"You have been absent a long while," she said in a soft voice, "we have -been wondering where you were. Mr. Rutledge, how have you managed to -amuse my listless and _distraite_ young niece so long? Have you been -studying a map of France with her, or poring over a chart of the -Atlantic? For such pursuits are all, I believe, that have any interest -for her now." - -"Miss Emerson, who sent me to entertain the young lady, did not confine -me to those topics," he answered, rising, "and I have ventured to go -beyond them. She will pardon me, I know, if I have not succeeded in my -attempts to interest her." And Mr. Rutledge bowed and withdrew. - -"I have a few words to say to you," said Mrs. Churchill, with muffled -hatred in her low tones. "You have withdrawn yourself from my -confidence, and from my affections; but remember, you cannot withdraw -yourself from my authority. It is perfectly useless for you to attempt -to deceive me; from the first night you came under my roof, I have known -you thoroughly. You are a care and a vexation to me daily; your -coquetry, your vanity, your boldness, I have hitherto tried to see -unmoved, knowing I was unable to influence you; but where influence -fails, authority may step in. And authority, for your own sake, for the -sake of the man you are engaged to, for my own dignity, I shall use to -prevent the recurrence of such evenings as this." - -"The authority you hold, Aunt Edith," I returned with a steadiness of -tone and manner she was quite unprepared for, "the authority you hold -over me, I beg to remind you, is very limited. Don't fancy I am -unacquainted with the circumstances that have placed me in your care. I -know every word of my mother's will, I have known it from a child. My -fortune is placed at my own disposal after I am eighteen; till then I am -recommended--_recommended_, Aunt Edith, to your care, and naturally -devolve on you, but I know that I am free: I know that after next -December I am my own mistress, and till that time, no one has any right -but that of seniority and affection to dictate to me. So we understand -each other, Aunt Edith, you say rightly, and why waste words? You cannot -influence me; you have lost the only power you ever had over me. I came -to you an affectionate, trusting child; you did not care to win my -affection, you took no pains to make me trust in you. I threatened -unconsciously to interfere in the plans you had for Josephine, and you, -without a scruple, sacrificed me to her: you sacrificed my happiness, my -peace, to the ambition you had for her; you have misled, thwarted, -tortured me to make the path clear for her; you have done what in the -sight of heaven will one day be a millstone round your neck to sink you -to perdition! Oh! if I had but seen it all as clearly a few short weeks -ago, as now I see it, you would not have had your triumph as near as you -think you have it now! But because I was a foolish, trusting child, it -was not hard to deceive me; because I looked to you for direction, you -had the power to mislead me; because I had strong feelings it was all -the easier to ensnare me. Let me say what I have to say now; this is our -reckoning--I never want to have another explanation; we have understood -each other perfectly since we came to Rutledge, this plain talk we -scarcely needed, and let us end it. As long as I can endure to stay with -you, just so long will I stay, and not a moment beyond it. As long as I -must stay, you must bear the vexation and the trial of my presence, but -you may be sure, your release will not be very distant. I am not bound -to you nor to your children by one tie of gratitude or affection, and -those that restrain me of custom and convenience, don't cost much in the -snapping!" - -"All this tirade has wandered very far of the mark. I began to give you -a caution and a command which my duty required me to give, and your duty -required you to heed; and you fly angrily off on some unmeaning -invectives which are very harmless because of their unmeaningness; if it -were not the case, I should call you sternly to account for your words, -and make you retract them." - -"Unmeaning or not, Aunt Edith, they are sown in your memory, and nothing -can root them out. They will bear bitter fruit some day, I promise you. -They will yield a rich harvest, when the early growths of ambition and -worldliness have died down, and left you only the withered husks and -stalks of remorse and regret to satisfy your hunger withal. And now -unless you want to publish this, will you go into the parlor and let me -follow you?" - -"I have something more to say to you"---- - -"There comes Miss Emerson; if it is anything that will bear being said -before her, pray continue." - -"Ah! Is it not delightful!" cried our pretty hostess. "Mr. Rutledge and -the other gentlemen have been out, holding a post-mortem examination of -the storm, and they have decided that it has left so black a state of -heavens and so wet a state of roads that it is impossible to think of -your going home to-night, so you will have to stay till to-morrow, -_bongre malgre_. And I am so charmed. Ah! _you_ are not, though, I see -plainly enough, you want to go back to that tiresome Rutledge. What can -it be, Mrs. Churchill? What is the matter with her. Though to be sure, -the pale cheeks are gone now; I think I prescribed well. Mr. Rutledge -must have said something very exciting all the while he was in here, to -have given you such a bright color and such flashing eyes." - -"A very little excitement brings that result, Miss Emerson. She has not -learned much self-possession or self-control yet; we must excuse her." - -"Oh! by all means. I am only glad she looks brighter than when I left -her. But will you come into the parlor? Miss Josephine is going to give -us one more song before we go to our rooms." - -Josephine's song was gay and brilliant, her voice was rich and full, but -they failed to drive the dreary echo of Victor's last words out of my -mind, that deepened and strengthened as the night advanced: "You shall -be freed! Be sure you shall be freed!" The lights shone clear and soft -on the gay groups that peopled the rooms around me; but instead of them, -I seemed to see, far nearer and more distinct, the deserted chamber at -Rutledge, where the guilt of the Past and the crime of the Present, kept -awful watch together. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVI. - - - "My care is like my shadow in the sun, - Follows me flying, flies when I pursue it; - Stands and lies by me, does what I have done, - This too familiar care does make me rue it." - -QUEEN ELIZABETH. - - -Late breakfast, long lingering at the table, delay in ordering the -horses, lengthened adieux, all combined to retard our starting for home -on the following morning. I had stood ready on the piazza, waiting for -the others to come out, for fifteen minutes; every new delay increased -unbearingly my nervousness. "Spare that innocent vine," said Phil, -arresting my riding-whip. "You have beaten that cluster of roses to -fragments." - -"Will they never come!" I ejaculated. "It is so tiresome to wait for all -those adieux. Can't we start?" - -"Certainly," said he, signalling the man who held our horses. "We can -ride forward; they will soon overtake us, and McGuffy can accompany the -carriage as far as the cross-road. He is going to Brandon, I believe, -this morning." - -I stepped back. "After all, it would hardly be polite to go, as he was -of the riding party. There they come from the greenhouse. They must be -ready now." - -At last, we were mounted, and our companions arranged for the drive, our -last good byes said; but the understanding was, as we parted, that the -whole party of Masons and Emersons should adjourn to Rutledge for the -evening, where a grand finale, in the shape of a supper and a dance, -should wind up the festivities of the season. The pretty Janet -whispered, as I went down from the saddle to exchange a parting word -with her, "I have not given up the visit yet, Papa promises to take -Mrs. Churchill by storm this evening, and you must consent." - -As we rode along, I gave a sigh to the impossibility of this; nothing -could give me pleasure now, but this seemed more like it than anything -else. To be quietly with Janet, and to learn to love her, and to unlearn -the terrible lesson of the last few weeks, looked almost like peace. But -I knew too well what my aunt's answer would be, as she was to be -appealed to, and without throwing off the mask of deference that I still -preserved and wished to preserve, I could not resist her decision. I -well knew the programme sketched out for me, for the rest of the summer: -in the thrice empty dreariness of Gramercy Park I was to be immured, -while the others whiled away the pleasant weeks at Newport and Nahant. -The Wynkars, Capt. McGuffy and Phil had consented to make their plans -agree with the Churchills, and Mr. Rutledge had promised to join them in -the course of a fortnight. He had made his arrangements to leave home on -the same day that we did, and accompany us part of the way; business in -the western part of the State would occupy him for some ten days; but, -at the end of that time, he proposed rejoining the party at Newport. -Nothing had been said to me about my plans, but I knew from something -that escaped inadvertently, that the subject had been canvassed, and it -had been decided that the income allowed me would not warrant such an -expense, and that, with Frances, I was to be dropped at home, while -mamma's maid should serve also for Josephine and Grace for the remainder -of the summer. I should have loathed the gaiety of Newport, the crowd -and the excitement would have been insupportable to me; but the prospect -of being smothered in that silent, dark house in the hot city, hateful -with memories of my recent illness, and with trials that I could never -forget, was even harder to anticipate. But I had to submit. What a -future for seventeen. - -"Wait till December," whispered Hope, just stirring his wounded, -drooping wings, just trembling with a faint life that for days had -seemed extinct. "Yes," I thought, with a bitter sigh, "in December I -shall be of age, it will be a glorious thing to be my own mistress! To -begin the world when I've lost all interest in it--to do as I please -when there's nothing on earth that pleases me--to be free from restraint -and authority, and from all human love and care! To be _independent!_ -God help me! What a glorious thing it will be. All hope points to -December!" - -But my release, such as it was, was nearer than December. I might have -spared myself the hateful anticipations with which I blackened the fresh -summer morning. I had not seen any further into futurity than the rest -of the human family, who fret about their fate and look whole years -ahead, and put the misery of a lifetime into the present, and torture -themselves about what they know is, and fear is to be, till the flood of -God's judgment comes and sweeps all away, and leaves them bewildered in -the midst of a strange desolation and a new terror. - -"Phil," said Capt. McGuffy, as we rode slowly along through the -loveliest, freshest country, washed by last night's rain; and gleaming -in the morning sun--of which I had not seen one beauty, in my absorbing -anxiety--"Phil, may I trust this young lady to you, if I leave you at -the cross-road? I want to ride over to Brandon for half an hour before -dinner." - -"Oh, Captain McGuffy!" I exclaimed, startled out of future fears by -present dangers, "why do you take that tiresome ride this morning? It -will be sunny and disagreeable before you get back to Rutledge; wait -till after dinner." - -The captain still leaned to the idea of accomplishing it all "under one -head," and having the rest of the day at home I didn't dare to press the -subject, but seeing my only chance lay in engrossing their attention to -the exclusion from their memories of the Brandon project, I worked -faithfully to accomplish my design, and succeeded in a great measure. -Before we had gone another half mile, I had enticed the captain into the -enthusiastic description of a bull-baiting in Mexico, at which Phil and -he had "assisted," and into the recollection of which they both seemed -to enter with great ardor. We were on the top of Ridgway Hill--the road -for a good mile stretched away at its foot, while on the left, branched -off the Brandon turnpike. - -"Heaven send they may forget it!" I ejaculated, bending forward to renew -my questions about the bull-baiting. The carriages were coming close -behind--the bull-fight soon began to flag. - -"Phil," began the captain again. - -"Capt. McGuffy," I cried, "Madge is fairly beside herself this morning, -I can hardly hold her; we have been creeping all the way from the Grove, -what do you say to a race, a bona fide race, and I'll ask no favor. It's -a clear road from here to Rutledge, and he's the best fellow who clears -the park gate first!" - -"Done!" cried the captain, catching fire from my eyes; and before -another minute, we were off on the maddest race I ever ran or hope to -run. For a while, the three straining beasts were nearly neck and neck, -the three dilated nostrils and fiery eyes were nearly on a line; then -gradually, very gradually, Madge's black head gained an inch or so upon -them, an inch or so, and then we were a foot in advance. Phil drove the -spurs into his horse--he sprang forward, but soon fell back again--the -captain urged Vagabond on with lash and oath; I did not move the -loosened bridle on Madge's neck--steady and unswerving she kept the -road, each spring as even and as sure as if measured and done by -rule--no relaxing of the eager neck--no gasping in the even breath. I -only saw, with a heartfelt sigh of relief, that the Brandon turnpike lay -unnoticed far behind us, and Madge might take us where she liked: but -when I dashed through the park gate, half a dozen yards in advance of -Phil, and the captain in a fury with Vagabond, perfectly blown, quarter -of a mile in the rear, I was quite helpless and weak from excitement. - -"I don't know which to be proudest of, the young lady or the mare," said -Stephen, as he lifted me down. "I wouldn't have missed seeing you come -in for considerable money." - -I hurried into the house and upstairs, leaving Phil to make all -explanations and apologies: Kitty had seen me, and followed close behind -me. - -"Well?" I asked, breathlessly, as she closed the door. - -"Nothing, Miss, nothing has happened. Do lie down and rest; you look fit -to drop." - -"But he is well? What did he say--has nothing happened?" - -"Nothing has happened. I only saw him for a moment yesterday. Mrs. -Roberts kept me close at marking linen all the rest of the day and -evening; and this morning I had only a few moments to speak to him when -I went in, for her door was open a crack, and I didn't dare to stay: you -look so tired--won't you let me undress you?" - -"But how did he seem? what did he say about my being away?" - -"Oh!" returned Kitty, rather uneasily, "he asked why the house was so -quiet, and whether you'd got back yet: he looks a little pale and badly, -but I'm sure that's natural enough. Anybody would get pale and gloomy -shut up day after day in that awful room, among all poor Miss Alice's -books and pictures and things, all looking so dusty and dismal; it gives -me a shudder only to go inside the door." - -"But he doesn't know anything about her; you've never told him anything -about the room?" - -"I didn't mean to, Miss; I had no thought of opening my lips about it; -but he made me tell him--he wouldn't be satisfied till I had told him -every word I knew about the family troubles. What put it into his head -to ask, I think was something he had come across in a French book he had -been reading; it was a little note that had marked the place. He held it -in his hand as I came in, and he looked so white and strange, I was -almost frightened. Oh, so many questions as he put me! so eager as he -was! He seemed to look so through and through me with those black eyes -of his, I didn't dare to keep back anything I knew. And then he asked me -about master; if he had really loved his sister--if he had grieved for -her, and tried to find her out, or if he held her memory in contempt--if -he tried to forget that she had ever lived, and hated to hear her name." - -"You didn't tell him that he did, Kitty?" - -"How could I help it, Miss? You would not have had me tell him _a lie_. -I had to tell him how it was. I had to tell him that her name was -forbidden here--that no one dared for their lives to breathe a word -about those times to the master--that her picture, and all that belonged -to her, was put out of sight forever--that her room was shut up and hid -as much from the living, as the poor lady was herself in her lonesome -grave beyond seas. And he clenched his hand till the blood sprung under -his nails, and his very lips were white like the wall; he said so low I -could just hear him, 'but he shall not forget!' I am no coward, Miss, -but I confess I was right glad when I got outside again." - -All that wretched day I watched for a chance to see him. Kitty, nearly -as anxious as I was myself, hovered around to try to clear the way for -me, but in vain. No other day had the upper hall been so favorite a -resort. Josephine had ordered her trunks to be put out there, and Ella's -also, and Frances was packing them. Ellerton and Grace, lounging on the -stairs, watched the operation, Mrs. Churchill sat with her door open. I -cannot possibly describe the misery it gave me to know what danger might -arise from this delay. I knew too much already of Victor's morbid -jealousy, to imagine it was not brooding now over this long neglect. The -hours were leaden-winged and fiery-footed; each slow passing one seemed -to burn into my very soul. - -Kitty wiped away frequent tears as she busied herself about my packing; -there were no tears in my eyes as I walked quickly up and down the room, -or lay, face downward on the bed, trying to stifle thoughts that I could -not endure. - -"There's dinner!" said Kitty, ruefully. "And there's no hope of any more -chance after it. Mrs. Roberts is at her eternal knitting in the hall -window, and Frances won't stop packing these four hours yet. But don't -you worry, Miss; I'll manage it, somehow. Go down to dinner, and _don't_ -fret!" - -Of course not, why should I? What was there in my circumstances to -occasion it? Nothing, of course; and nothing, either, to fret about in -Josephine's taunts and Grace's sauciness, in the cold eyes of my aunt, -in Ella's supercilious scorn; nothing to fret about when the captain -talked of the murder and the evidence, the state of the public mind, and -the state of his own private mind, in regard to it; when Ellerton talked -about the news from town, and the letters he had just received from some -of his inestimable chums there resident, and of the inexplicable nature -of the fact that none of them had spoken of meeting or seeing Victor -before he sailed, and of his own conviction that it was very strange we -had heard nothing from him since he left, _very_ strange. - -"Oh!" cried Grace, "that's the way, they say, with these foreigners, -adventurers, may be. You mustn't be astonished, my dear (turning -pleasantly to me), you mustn't be astonished if you shouldn't hear from -him 'never no more.' These French meteors, they say, sometimes flash -through society in that way, and dazzle everybody, then sink into their -native night again. And you know it is just possible our Victor may be -of that order; but, of course, I don't want to distress you, only it's -as well you should be prepared." - -"Grace, hush! you are a saucy child; but really it _is_ odd that we have -never heard a word from him since he left." - -"Did you expect to, Josephine? I didn't suppose you had made any -arrangements to correspond. I am sorry I didn't know how deep your -interest was, I might have relieved your mind before. Mr. Viennet is -very well. I have heard from him more than once since we parted." - -An exclamation of surprise went round the table; I was overwhelmed with -questions and reproaches. - -"You might have told us, really, now I think," said Ellerton. - -"Why did you not ask me, then?" - -"Why, we thought you'd tell, to be sure. We didn't know how sacred you -considered his epistles." - -"What sort of a journey did he have? What day did he get in town?" - -"He didn't say much about his journey. I fancy from something he said -that he met with some detentions." - -"Didn't he send any messages to anybody?" - -"None that I remember." - -"Ungrateful rascal!" - -"He succeeded, I suppose, in getting a state-room? He had some fears -that he would be too late." - -"He didn't say a word about it." - -"Absurd! what did he talk about, then?" - -"Not about his journey, nor his stateroom, nor you, Josephine; but you -know there are more things, and as interesting, in heaven and earth, to -us both, strange as it may seem to you." - -"_Pardon!_ I had forgotten!" - -"You won't hear again before the Persia is in, will you?" - -"That will be in three weeks, will it not?" - -"Yes; that will be after we are at Newport. To whose care do your -letters come addressed?" - -"Really, Mr. Wynkar, you are too kind. Your interest is so unexpected!" - -"Let us all drink to his _bon voyage_," said the captain, filling my -glass. - -"_Avec plaisir_," cried Josephine, and Phil said heartily, as he poured -her out a glass: - -"Victor's a good fellow; he has my best wishes on land or sea." - -"And mine," said Mr. Rutledge, very low. - -Why was there a hush around the table as that toast was drunk? Why did a -sort of shade creep over the careless mirth of the company? Not surely -because they guessed that he whose health they drank was within hearing, -almost, of their words, nor because they knew how fallen and how -wretched he was; but because, perhaps unconsciously, the gloom on their -host's face, and the misery on mine, damped for a moment their gaiety -and confidence. - -"The last day at Rutledge!" murmured Josephine, with a pretty sigh, as -we left the dining-room. "I cannot bear to think of it. I never had so -happy a fortnight in my life. Shall any of us ever forget this visit?" - -"It doesn't seem as if we'd been here a week," said Ella, "does it?" - -"A week! It seems to me a year!" I exclaimed, involuntarily. - -"That doesn't speak well for your enjoyment, at all events; Mr. Rutledge -will never ask you to come again. Will you, Mr. Rutledge?" - -"I am afraid, Miss Wynkar, that it will be out of my power to enjoy the -honor of any one's society here for a long while to come. I am going -abroad in the course of a month, and"---- - -"You, Mr. Rutledge!" exclaimed more than one voice, and Josephine's -color suffered a shade of diminution. - -"It is a sudden determination, is it not, sir?" asked Phil. - -"No, I have been thinking of it for some weeks, but I have not till -recently had much idea of the time I should start." - -"Mr. Rutledge does not look upon crossing the Atlantic for a few months, -as any way more formidable than going to town for a night, he has been -such a traveller," said Mrs. Churchill, with admirable composure; but -_I_ knew the effort that it cost her. "You do not think of being absent -long, I suppose?" - -"It is uncertain; I shall make my arrangements to be gone for about two -years, but something may occur to detain me longer, in which case I can -easily settle all things here by letter. I have trusty persons in my -employ, and I think there is no chance of my presence being necessary at -home for a long while to come." - -"I envy you," said Ellerton; "I wish I could run off for a year or two." - -I saw Josephine's lips move, but she could not command her voice, and, -bending down, she caressed Tigre with a nervous hand. I could not but -pity her; I had not realized before how much her heart had been set upon -this match; and wounded pride is next in sting to wounded love. - -The gentlemen lit their cigars, and talked of Mr. Rutledge's plans; we -all lounged idly about the north end of the hall; the doors were all -open, and a fine fresh breeze came in. I had been listening anxiously to -a faint sound overhead, _where_ I knew too well; a hasty stride from one -end to the other of the room above us. - -"Hark!" cried Grace, "what's that? I heard the same sound this -morning." - -Every one stopped talking, and listened. - -"The house is haunted, you may depend," said Josephine. "There have been -strange noises next my room for the last three nights." - -"That's a peculiar sound. What do you make of it, Mr. Rutledge?" said -Ellerton, walking toward the stairs. - -"It is nothing," he returned, advancing that way too. "Some of the -servants are up there now, perhaps; I will go and see. Don't trouble -yourself, Mr. Wynkar." - -"I'll go," I cried, starting forward. "Perhaps it's Kitty, she may be -waiting for me." - -Ellerton paused and listened; Mr. Rutledge passed up before him, -followed closely by Tigre. I brushed past Ellerton and kept close to Mr. -Rutledge. Mrs. Roberts was standing at the head of the stairs. - -"Mrs. Roberts," said Ellerton, "we're investigating an unusual noise up -here. Can you account for it?" - -Now, Mrs. Roberts never could abide the insinuation that anything might -possibly be going on of which she was ignorant; if she had nosed -anything herself, she did not, as we have seen, lack zeal in ferreting -it out, but it was impossible to put her on a new scent; she refused to -acknowledge any other sagacity than her own. So, on the present -occasion, as she had heard no noise, she utterly scouted the idea, and -assigned some trifling cause for it; the girls, she said, had been in -the attic, clearing out an old store-room; probably that was what Mr. -Rutledge had heard. Ellerton hurried down to inform the ladies of the -explanation, and Mr. Rutledge, crossing the hall, was going toward his -dressing-room, when Tigre, who had been exploring the neighborhood, now -rushed whining along the hall, with his nose to the floor. The attention -of all was attracted to him; he darted under the wardrobe, and began -scratching and growling earnestly at the door of Victor's hiding-place. -I followed Mr. Rutledge's quick glance from my face to the wardrobe, -and, starting forward, I tried to call off Tigre. - -"Come here, sir! Come here, I say!" But he was too intent upon his -discovery to heed me. - -"He is a little nuisance," said Mrs. Roberts. "I never approved having -him allowed to come upstairs." - -"Tigre, what are you after, sir?" said Mr. Rutledge, as he walked down -the hall toward him. - -"Oh, nothing, I'm sure, sir, nothing!" I cried, following him. "Don't -scold him. Tigre, come out, you rascal! come out, I say!" and I stamped -vehemently on the floor. - -"He will not mind you," said Mr. Rutledge, in a low voice. "He will obey -his instincts, and persevere till he has reached the object of his -search." - -"He isn't searching for anything," I exclaimed, dropping down on my -knees and stooping till I could see under the wardrobe. "If I could only -reach him. Tigre--you torment--if you don't come, I'll whip you, _so!_ -Here, here, _poor_ fellow! Come here, my pet!" - -Tigre desisted a moment from his whining, and wavered in his -determination. I thrust my arm under the wardrobe, seized him, and drew -him, yelping, out; then, springing up, ran across the hall, and almost -threw him into my room. Mr. Rutledge watched me silently with a -contracted brow, and crossing over to his own room, shut himself into -it. - -Not a very faithful index, certainly of the real feelings of men and -women, is to be obtained from their outward and visible emotions. A very -gay party, no doubt, the visitors who came that night to Rutledge, -thought they found there. They little guessed how unhappy and -disappointed a man their courteous host was, nor that Mrs. Churchill, -serene and charming, was looking in the face the failure of the hopes of -years, nor that the pretty Josephine's smiles were in ghastly contrast -with the bitterness of her spirit; nor that Phil, who knew her face too -well to be deceived by them, was smarting under the realizing sense it -gave him of her ambition and worldliness. And if they had guessed the -interpretation of _my_ gaiety! - -There were just enough of us to make the dancing spirited, and to keep -every one on the floor. We had before always danced in the parlors, but -some evil spirit prompted Grace to propose that we should try a double -set of Lancers in the hall. Everybody, encouraged, doubtless, by their -attendant evil spirits, seemed to think nothing could be more delightful -than the hall, and urged the moving of the piano out there; and there we -adjourned. I tried not to remember how plainly we could be heard in a -certain room at the end of the hall above; how the laughing and the -music would grate on the jealous ears there. If he caught the tones of -my voice, he would not know that I laughed because I must keep pace with -the captain's jokes, and encourage him in punning and joke-making, to -keep him from the hideous topic that he always turned to when left to -himself; and to drive away the suspicion that sharpened Mr. Rutledge's -eyes, and to keep Mr. Mason my admirer, and no more. - -"Like the lady of 'Old Oak Chest' memory, 'I'm weary of dancing,'" I -cried at length, "let's amuse ourselves some other way." - -"Play hide-and-seek, like that ancient party?" asked Phil, throwing -himself on the lowest step of the stairs. - -"That's not a bad suggestion!" exclaimed Grace. "This is just the place -for such an adventure. I don't mean that I want anybody to be smothered -in a chest exactly, but lost for a little while, and hunted for, you -know. It would be so jolly." - -"So it would!" echoed Ellerton. - -"And there's no end of capital hiding-places about the house, so many -odd rooms where you'd never expect them; and acres of attic, beyond a -doubt!" - -"Come!" cried Josephine, "we're all ripe for adventure. Let's have a -game of hide-and-seek." - -"Delightful!" cried the youngest Miss Mason. - -"I'm ready for anything," said Phil, getting up and shaking himself. - -"I'm afraid you will not find any oak chests," said Mr. Rutledge, -discouragingly. - -"Oh! yes, we will," cried Grace, "chests, and crannies, and closets, and -wardrobes, and trap-doors without number. A regiment of soldiers might -be hid away in this house and nobody the wiser." - -Everybody was in the spirit of it now, and it was useless to oppose. - -"Who shall hide first?" demanded Grace. - -"Oh, your cousin, of course!" cried the captain. "She proposed the -game." - -I was voted in by acclamation. - -"And you must take somebody with you, it will make it more exciting, but -you must hide in separate places," added Grace. - -"Very well; the captain must go out with me, and you must all go into -the parlor, and promise, on your honor, to stay there five minutes by -the clock, and then we give you leave to find us." - -"We promise," said Ellerton; "but remember, you are to hide somewhere in -the house, and to surrender yourselves in half an hour if you are not -found before." - -"Always provided," said the captain, shutting the parlor-doors upon -them, "that we're not smothered in some old chest in the meantime." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVII. - - - "Sweetest lips that ever were kissed, - Brightest eyes that ever have shone, - May sigh and whisper, and _he_ not list, - Or look away, and never be missed - Long or ever a month be gone." - - -"Where shall we go?" said the captain, in a whisper, as we paused in the -hall irresolutely. - -"What do you think of the dining-room, behind the tall clock for one of -us?" - -The captain shook his head. - -"They'll look there the first thing; it will not do. But in the second -story, there's a huge old wardrobe that I've noticed at the north end, -that would be a capital place for one." - -"Yes, I know where you mean, but I think it's locked, and we haven't the -key, and it would take too long to hunt up the housekeeper and get it. -There's the lower part of a bookcase in the library empty. Captain -McGuffy, if you only could get into it! Not even Mr. Rutledge knows -about it. Mrs. Roberts only cleared the books out of it last week, and -you'd be as safe as possible. Do try if you can't arrange it, and I'll -go somewhere upstairs; I know a place." - -Captain McGuffy consented, and we hurried to the library. The -hiding-place was not so large as I had fancied, but still my companion -agreed to risk it. He doubled up like a jack-knife; it was perfectly -wonderful to me how he ever got his long limbs into so small a compass. - -"Are you comfortable?" I asked, smothering a laugh. - -"Don't shut the door tight," he whispered, hoarsely. "I can't stand this -long." - -I had no time for more lengthened condolences, but hurried off to -dispose of myself. The second story was entirely clear; the servants -were all downstairs; Mrs. Roberts was busy about supper. I resolved to -hide behind the linen-press outside her door; but first, I thought, if I -were quick, I could go one instant to Victor's door, whisper my excuses, -and promise to come back when they were all gone. It was rather a -dangerous thing to do, but the moment I heard the parlor-door open, I -could fly to my hiding-place; I dared not lose this chance. - -Moving aside the wardrobe with some effort, I tapped low at the door. -Again--and no answer. "Victor," I whispered at the key-hole, "come to -the door one moment;" but not a sound from within. - -Apprehension of I do not know what new danger overcame my prudence, and -I wasted the few precious seconds I had to spare in irresolution. When -it was too late to effect my escape, I heard the door of the parlor -burst open, and Josephine's voice crying, "Allons!" They separated to -all parts of the house, Grace, Janet, and Ellerton flying up the stairs. -There was but one thing for me to do: I hurriedly pulled the wardrobe -after me into its place, opened the door, entered, and closed it -stealthily behind me. Only when I was in it, did I realize the folly of -what I had done. The room was as dark and silent as the grave; such a -silence and such a darkness as would have chilled a stouter heart than -mine. I whispered Victor's name--there was no answer. Had he fled, then, -and was I alone in this horrid room--shut up in it for hours perhaps? -No! I would risk all and grope my way out, no matter if I encountered -them all. I could endure this no longer. All Kitty had told me--all I -ever fancied of the ghastly terrors of the room--crowded into my mind, -and, starting forward, I attempted to find the door, but in my -bewilderment and the utter blackness around me, I must have turned away, -instead of toward it. My outstretched hand struck against an icy -surface; I screamed and started back, my foot slipped and I fell, -striking my temple heavily against some projection. The fall and the -blow stunned me for awhile; then returning consciousness suggested all -that they had mercifully absolved me from. Alice Rutledge's neglected, -dishonored room--Alice Rutledge's sin-troubled spirit haunting it--the -curses that had been spoken in it--the agony that had been endured in -it--the years of silence that had passed over it--and now, a murderer's -hiding-place--a murderer with crime fresh upon him. And oh! the horror -of that crime! It seemed almost as if it had been me instead of Victor -who had done it. My brain seemed reeling--had I not been there--had I -not seen--heard--that of which I never lost the memory--or was it only -haunting me from another's lips? Was _that_ avenging ghost here, -too--within the limits of this dreadful room? Was that a touch of human -hand upon my breast?--was it fancy, or--or--was that a breath upon my -cheek? A thousand horrid whispers--hollow laughter--dying -shrieks--filled the air; within these accursed walls, it was weird and -unearthly all; without, I heard, but as through triple dungeon walls, -the voices of those I had left behind; I heard their steps overhead, -their searching, high and low, in every nook and corner for me; I heard -them call my name, and pause for answer. I tried to call, but a -nightmare stifled my voice. As one might feel who had buried himself yet -living--who had pulled the coffin-lid down on his own head, and heard -the devils eagerly filling the grave up and laughing at their work--and -at each new shovelful of heavy clay had felt the distance between him -and life grow shorter, and felt the weight press heavier and heavier, -and the horror and the darkness grow tighter and tighter around him, and -the remorse, and the helplessness, and the terror--so I felt that -hideous night, and so I feel whenever I remember it. - -The house quieted, I heard the carriages drive away, then the faint -good-nights, and the closing of the many doors, and all grew into -repose. That was cruel; they had forgotten me--they had given me up -easily! But I would make them hear--I would get out of this sepulchral -place, and I started to my feet. Just then the handle of the door -turned, and a ray of light streamed across the room. It was Mr. Rutledge -who entered; but the sternness and whiteness of his face repressed the -cry of joy with which I had started forward. The light, though, had put -all the ghastly train to flight, and I breathed freer as I looked around -and saw that he and I were alone in the room. He closed the door, and -pressing his hand for a moment before his eyes, looked up and around the -apartment. I suppose he had never been in it since it had been closed -upon the flight of his sister, and since his father's curse had doomed -it to desolation. I followed his glance around the dim and dusky -walls--the familiar pictures--the disordered, time-stained -ornaments--the tall, canopied bed--the open wardrobe. A low groan -escaped his lips, and sinking on a chair, he bowed his head in his hands -upon the table. Some sound from me at last aroused him, and looking up, -he said: - -"I knew I should find you here. What evil spirit brought you to this -place! Are you alone?" - -"Yes," I faltered, coming to him, "I am alone. Take me out, for the love -of heaven! I have been in such terror--Victor is not here--I have"---- - -I stopped, with an exclamation of alarm. I had betrayed my secret. - -"It is better that he has gone," he said, but without any surprise; "it -could not have been kept up much longer. I hope, for your sake, he may -be safe. Flight would have been better a week ago. I could have managed -it, but you would not trust me. Did you really think," he continued, -rising slowly from his seat, and looking at me with an expression -compounded of bitterness, and tenderness, and sadness, "did you really -think I did not know you were hiding your lover in my house--that you -were dying a thousand deaths in the midst of this careless crowd? Why, -child," he said, laying his hand on my shoulder, and looking into my -eyes, "I know every expression of this face better than I know my own. I -know its flashes of fear, its white mantle of despair, and its crimson -glow of love, too well to be deceived. If I had needed confirmation of -my suspicions on the morning after Dr. Hugh's murder, that Victor -Viennet was the guilty man, I should have had only to have looked in -your face. And from that dreadful day to this, I have read there each -event as it has come to pass. I have helped you in your lover's cause, -though you did not know it. I have worked day and night to mislead his -persecutors, to allay the suspicions and blind the eyes of the -authorities; and I have nearly succeeded. There is very little danger -now, if he is prudent and dexterous in his flight. Do not tremble so; -you need not fear for him. By this time he is probably beyond the only -part of his journey that was attended with much risk." - -I burst into tears; it was so hard to hear him say all this, and talk to -me as if I had nothing to be miserable about, now that Victor was safe. -Ah! this was but the beginning. A life-time lay before me full of such -hours as this. - -"It is a heavy fate, poor child," he said, compassionately. "I would -have saved you from it if I could." - -"You don't know half how heavy!" I sobbed. "If you did, you wouldn't -think it a sin for me to pray to die." - -"Take the harder penance, and submit to live. Death doesn't always come -for the asking. God has sent you a terrible trial, but he will help you -through it if you will only keep that in mind." - -"No, no. God did not send it. I have brought it on myself--it is all my -own deed! Oh! if you only knew"---- - -"I do know. I know you are disappointed in the man you love--that you -have found weakness where you fancied strength: but I know that, -woman-like, you still love, if possible, more tenderly than before your -idol was shattered, and that you are shrinking now from the prospect of -a long and uncertain separation. I pity you, believe me, I pity you; but -these are griefs that time has a cure for. Do not talk of despair till -you have felt what it is to be unloved and unblest--to be without an -interest on earth, with but a slender right to hope in heaven--to be -thwarted in all you undertake, balked of all you desire--till you have -seen another and an unworthier hand take down your crown of life, and -wear it careless in your sight." - -"Perhaps I know all that as well as you," was on my lips, but I only hid -my face and turned away. He did not understand the gesture, and said -sadly, after a pause: - -"Why are you so wretched? I have assured you there is little danger, and -what is there so insupportable in the separation of a year or two? Or is -it something in the manner of parting; were you unprepared to find him -gone? Did he leave no good bye?" - -"No," I said, glad to have some excuse for my tears; "I never dreamed of -his going--it is too unkind! And I shall never forgive myself either; -when I saw him last, there was some misunderstanding, and I have not -explained it to him! He has gone away in despair and in anger! Oh, I -shall never, never forgive myself!" - -"You may overrate the cause," said my companion, "perhaps he may have -found it more prudent to fly now, and could not wait to see you. Look -about the room, there may be a letter somewhere, or he may have left one -with Kitty." - -"Kitty knows nothing of it, and I do not see any letter." - -"What is that little package--beyond you--there on the table?" - -I seized it, and, bending eagerly over the light, read my name upon it. -My hand trembled so that I could hardly open it. Within the first paper -there was a letter; my eyes glanced hurriedly over it, but from another -wrapping something dropped, one sight of which served to make me grasp -the table for support, and drop the letter on the floor. - -"What is it?" cried my companion, starting forward, and picking up my -letter, leading me to a chair. - -"Read it to me--I can't--I don't understand," I faltered, putting back -the letter in his hand. He looked at me hesitatingly a moment, then read -it aloud: - -"I promised you freedom. Well! I have been a coward not to have given it -to you sooner; but when you read this, there will be such a gulf between -us, that you may well grant a little pity to the cowardice that only -feared death as a separation from you--that only clung to life as -sweetened by your love. - -"It is trite to tell you of my love--to tell you to be happy--to say I -forgive the coldness that you strove to hide--and to ask forgiveness for -the pain I have given you. You know all this--better, much better than -at this dreadful hour I can tell you--and though you can never know in -its fullness the agony that the parting inflicts on me, there is no need -that you should realize it: I have done enough to make you miserable -already. Forget all this black dream; it will soon be over, and be again -the happy girl I found you. - -"But one thing more. Would you know who it is to whom you had affianced -yourself--to whose life you had promised to unite yours--whose name you -had promised to bear? It is a good name--_mon ange_--an ancient name--an -honorable! Ask your proud host if it is not; ask him if there is a -better in the country, or one that a woman need be prouder to bear. It -is no new name to your ears; it is _Rutledge;_ the only name I have any -claim to, though, perhaps, my host would say that was but a slender one: -did his sister lose the ancient and honored name she was born with, -when she lost her honor, when she stepped down from her high place, and -stooped to sin? Or did she drag down that name with her in her fall? Did -it cling to her, like a robe of mockery and scorn, only making her shame -the greater; did it descend with the heritage of infamy, to the child of -her shame? Or did it die with her, and has her neglected grave the only -right to bear the record of it? Ask our host--he can tell you more of it -than I. But tell him I am not inclined to dispute it with him: I am not -as proud of the name as he; tell him I loathe--I execrate it! I could -almost wish to live to show him my contempt for it--to show him what a -low wretch could share with him his inheritance and his pride. If he -doubts it--if he questions whether the same blood runs in our veins, -show him the only souvenir I have to leave you--the picture of my -father. Ask him if he remembers Alice Rutledge's lover. He will not need -more damning proof; it came to me like a message from the dead--it may -go to him as such. Tell him that a murderer wrenched it from his -victim's dying grasp; that it has struck awe to his guilty soul at every -glance; that it has hurried him on to perdition. But if he longs to be -more certain, show him these two letters; one that I have worn next my -heart for years--the other, that I found between the leaves of a -forgotten book in this ghastly room. - -"The God whom you believe in bless you, and, if he has the -right--forgive me! - -"VICTOR." - -"I don't understand--what does he mean--where has he gone?" I said, -wildly, pressing my hand to my head. "I am so bewildered, I can't think. -Oh! don't look so awfully! There must be some mistake. You can't believe -that--that--oh! heaven help me!" - -My companion did not speak; my eyes searched his blanched face in vain -for comfort--a wild impulse seized me; I grasped the candle in my hand, -and, with a hasty look around the apartment, hurried to the bed and -drew aside the curtains. - -I did not swoon or cry; I did not even drop the candle from my hand, nor -loose the grasp with which I held back the curtains; but, with glazed -eyes and freezing veins, gazed steadily at what lay before me. Pale with -the unmistakable pallor of death, one arm thrown above his head, the -other buried in his bosom, his dark tangled curls lying distinct against -the pillow, his manly limbs rigid--a crimson stream that had stained his -breast, and was creeping down upon the bed, gave awful proof that Victor -and I had indeed parted forever--that my wretched lover lay dead before -me. - -Brought so suddenly to my sight, there was nothing in that moment of the -remorse and the lingering tenderness that after the first shock nearly -deprived me of reason; it was only horror--staring, ghastly horror--at -the sight of his dead body--at the thought of his lost soul; the words -that rang in my head, and the first that struggled to my lips were: "God -have mercy on his soul! God have mercy on his soul!" Dead--without a -prayer--dead--by his own hand--cast out forever from God's mercy--a -wailing, damned, lost soul through all eternity. I stood as if turned to -stone; my companion, in an agony of grief and consternation, had thrown -himself on his knees beside the bed; his iron fortitude broken down -before this awful judgment that, laying bare the anguish of the past, -had interwoven itself so strangely with the present; the unerring -retribution that had worked out this end to sins so long ago committed. - -But no sob or cry came from my lips; no tears dimmed my riveted eyes. I -heard the broken words that burst from him as in a dream, and neither -knew nor felt that there was anything in this world but blank -horror--hopeless consternation--till from a slight movement of the -candle, I caught the shine of a trinket that the unhappy man had worn -around his neck. Bending forward, I saw in a moment what it was. A -little ring of mine, and a link of the broken bracelet, worn on a chain -next his heart while living, now wet with blood, was lying still above -the heart that beat no more. At that sight a passion of tears came to my -relief. His tender and devoted love, the miserable return I had made, -the unkindness of our parting, my shameful injustice and deceit, the -cruelty of his sufferings, all rushed over me and shook me with a -tempest of tears and sobs. I threw myself beside him on the bed, and -covered his cold hand with tears and caresses; wild with pain and -remorse, I laid my cheek against his on the pillow, and implored him to -forgive me, to speak to me but once, to say I had not killed him; with -incoherent passion I called heaven to witness that I really loved -him--that I would have been true to him--that I would have died for -him--that I had nothing else to live for or to love. - -It was long before, worn out by excess of weeping, I yielded to my -companion, and was led faint and almost unresisting from the room. With -a few words of pity, he left me in my own apartment, reluctantly turning -away from me, so wretched and so lonely. But I shook my head; I did not -want any one, I had rather be by myself. - -"No one can do you much good, it is true," he said sadly. "God help -you!" and he left me. - -I stood motionless for some minutes after the door closed upon him. -Then, stung by some fresh recollection and by the added terrors of -solitude, I paced rapidly up and down the room, and flinging myself on -my knees by the bedside, I prayed incoherently and passionately for -Victor--for myself--for pardon and for death. I could not endure one -thought or one occupation long: before I rose from my knees my -resolution was taken; my brain would have given way if I had not had -some necessity for exertion, some design to carry out. And strange and -sudden as my determination was, I doubt whether I could have done -anything wiser and better. There was one uncontrollable longing -uppermost--to escape from this place, to hide myself forever from all -who had ever known me here. - -Stealthily and hurriedly, for Kitty was sleeping in the dressing-room, I -went through my preparations. They were not many; there were some -letters to be burned and one to be written, some clothes to be selected -and made up into a package, a trinket to be clasped round Kitty's arm, -and a coin slipped in her hand, and I was ready. I looked at my watch; -it was half-past three, the faint grey dawn was just streaking the -eastern sky, I must go. Where should I put my letter? I sat down and -hurriedly wrote the address, then with a momentary indecision, the first -that had marked my rapid movements since my resolution was taken, I -opened and read it over: - -"You will not be surprised when you find that I have gone away. You can -understand, if you will think a moment about it, and try to realize what -I should have to endure in concealing and controlling my feelings, that -it is the only thing I could do. My life with Mrs. Churchill has grown -so intolerable that I had before this resolved it should not continue. -And now is the best time to do what at any other moment would be -painful, but which at this, is only a relief. Inquiries and -investigations as to where I go, will be just so many cruelties; will -you do this last of many kindnesses, and help to cover my retreat, and -keep them from any attempts to find me? It would kill me to have to face -any of them now; will you not trust me enough to help me to the only -comfort possible to me now, solitude and rest? You are ingenious, you -can divert them from it, if you try; it is not as if they had any -instincts of affection to guide them in finding me out. You need not let -them know that I did not project the pastime of last night to accomplish -a premeditated flight. If you ever had any kindness for me, do not try -to find me out yourself, _do not let them_. You may trust me when I -promise you I will do nothing rash, nothing that you would not approve -if I could tell you. I promise you that I will remember my religion and -my womanhood, and spend what length of life God sentences me to, as -penitently, patiently and reasonably as He will grant me grace to do. If -you will show this proof of confidence and friendship, you will never -repent it. - -"God knows, you have little reason to trust in me: but I am changed--I -am much changed--I will not deceive you now. If you will believe in me -this once, and shield me from exposure, and leave me in peace where I -may choose to go, I will pledge you my word that as soon as I shall -ascertain that you have sailed for Europe, I will write you fully and -truthfully where I am, and what I intend to do, and will from that time -make no secret of my place of abode and my plans. - -"There is another thing--but I need not ask it of you. You, for your own -sake are concerned to keep this cruel secret that I have so long been -hiding, a secret still. It passes now from my hands to yours. Perhaps I -should be insensible to disgrace and ignominy; they cannot harm _him_ -now: but oh! shield me from them, save his memory from shame. Do not let -the world know of it till that day when the secrets of all hearts shall -be revealed; when God shall commit all judgment to His Son, who is more -merciful than man--more compassionate and more just. - -"You have helped me hitherto, though I did not know whose hand was -smoothing my way; do not give up now, despairing. Kitty and Stephen will -be faithful, no one else need know the secrets of that dreadful room. - -"I am not so selfish as you think. I do not forget that you are only -less miserable than I am, as you have only grief and not remorse to -bear. Heaven send you the peace I have no right to ask for myself." - -I folded my letter quickly and sealed it; then with one more look at -Kitty, and one hurried glance around the familiar room, I put out the -candle, took the package from the table and stole out. Where should I -put my letter? It must be within reach of no other hand than his; no one -must know that I had written to him. The hall--no words can tell its -gloom, the early dawn just turning its darkness into spectral dimness. -If inevitable detection had been the result, I could not have helped the -hurried, incautious steps with which I crossed it, and listened at Mr. -Rutledge's door. Within the inner room I heard a step pacing restlessly -up and down, but no other sound. He was awake, then; I stooped, and -softly tried the handle of the door. It was locked; he would be the -first to open it; so I slipped the letter under it, and springing up, -fled down the stairs and through the hall, without a look behind, with -no thought but that of escape, no fear so strong as that of detection. I -had forgotten everything now but flight. - -It was Heaven's mercy and nothing else, as poor Kitty would have said, -that no one was aroused by the loud sliding of the bolts, that required -all my strength to move; I hardly stopped to pull the heavy door to, -after me; I should not have heard, if the whole household had been in -pursuit, for the wild throbbing of my heart, the maddening pressure on -my brain, the choking fear, kept me insensible to sight and sound. I -flew on, through the shrubbery, across the unfrequented, dark orchard; -my feet tangled in the rank, wet grass that lay in the field beyond it, -my light dress tore to fragments in the thicket that bordered the -western extremity of the park; but on, till the thickest of the forest -sheltered me; then sinking exhausted and panting upon the ground, I hid -my eyes and shuddered at the terrors I was flying, and the dismal blank, -and dread uncertainty of what was beyond. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVIII. - - - "Vous qui pleurez, venez a ce Dieu, car il pleure. - Vous qui souffrez, venez a lui, car il guerit. - Vous qui tremblez, venez a lui, car il sourit. - Vous qui passez, venez a lui, car il demeure." - -ECRIT AU BAS D'UN CRUCIFIX. - - -The years that have passed since that night, have been long and strange -years. At first they were too strange and hopeless and blank to be borne -without repining; I knew but too well the curse that turns life into a -burden and a dread, and makes the wretched soul cry in the morning, -"would God, it were evening," and in the evening, "would God, it were -morning!" I knew what it was to dread solitude, and yet to shrink from -the reproach of any human face; to hate life, and yet to fear death; to -know to the fullest the terrors of remorse and the bitterness of -repentance. - -I have passed through this howling wilderness, passed through it once -and forever; it lies black and horrible behind me; when I look back, I -cross myself and murmur a prayer; but beyond--thank God's good -grace--lies a plain path; over it shines the steady star of faith, the -cold, clear light of duty fills the sky, the still air breathes peace; -the promise is faint of the life that now is, but of that which is to -come, of the bliss that never tires, the joy that never ceases, the -majesty of the Glory that fills the heaven beyond the dividing limit of -that horizon, I can dream and hope, till the dream fills my soul to -satisfaction, and the hope grows strong as life itself. - -The daily routine of my life is easily described, and the occupations -that served to soothe and sustain me will not take many words to paint. -The refuge I had sought upon my flight from Rutledge, was not distant; -Mr. Shenstone's compassion was the first I asked; he heard, fresh from -its occurrence, the awful story of Victor's death, the not less awful -story of his life. I needed no truer friend than he; and though it -opened anew the recollection of his own early trial, I did not suffer -from the association it awoke; he was only tenderer and kinder. - -Mr. Rutledge regarded my request. Whether he suspected my retreat or -not, I could not tell, but in the confusion and excitement that ensued -upon the discovery of my flight, I have reason to believe he influenced -the direction of the search that was instituted, and did not thwart the -general idea, that I had fled to the city to rejoin Victor, who, it was -soon learned, had not sailed when he had appointed. All was mystery and -confusion, but this idea saved me from pursuit here, and gave something -for suspicion to fasten and feed upon, and out of which to build up an -effigy, to receive the maledictions and reproaches of the world. All -this was less than indifferent to me; while they were searching for me -with venom and wrath, and bemoaning my iniquities with dainty horror, -and execrating my hypocrisy, and settling my fate, and clearing -themselves forever of any further part or lot in me, I was much nearer -the other world than this; so near indeed, that when after long weeks of -hovering between this and the unseen, I gradually awoke to the knowledge -that I was still to stay in life, I had so far lost my interest in it, -that it gave me hardly a moment's concern to find that Mrs. Churchill -had discovered my place of retreat, and had written in almost insulting -language to Mr. Shenstone, forbidding my return to her, and casting me -off forever. Mr. Shenstone seemed sadly distressed to communicate this -to me; the languid smile with which I received it, reassured him. - -"She could not have done me a greater favor, sir; she has saved me the -trouble of saying that I would not return to her, and she knew it very -well. She is glad to be rid of me, and hurried to spare her dignity the -rebuff that she knew it would receive as soon as I was able to put pen -to paper." - -But there was a harder task to perform; my promise to Mr. Rutledge was -yet unfulfilled. I understood from Mr. Shenstone that he had sailed for -Havre a fortnight after I had left Rutledge, and I dared no longer delay -my promised communication to him. A very brief and simple letter told -him all that was necessary. In the course of the winter there came an -answer to it, short but kind, with nothing wanting in consideration and -interest, characteristic and manly, yet with a shade of formality and -restraint, differing from all phases of our former intercourse; ever so -slight a shade, it is true, but it made me put this his last letter -away, with the same feeling that I think I should have had, if I had -just turned away from my last look at him in his coffin. He was dead to -_me_, at least. - -Occasional letters, indeed, came from him to Mr. Shenstone, generally -with some mention of my name; Mr. Shenstone always showed them to me; -they brought back old times, and made me restless and vaguely sad for a -day or two, then the _dead_ feeling would come back, and all would be -the same as before. As time wore on, the letters grew almost -imperceptibly shorter and less explicit; he was travelling--he was -here--at such a time he should be there--such places pleased him--such -spots were changed since his former visits; then would follow some -general directions about the farm--remembrances to Mrs. Arnold and to -me--kind inquiries into Mr. Shenstone's own health--renewed assurances -of friendship--and so the letter would end. - -Of my aunt's family I rarely heard. They went abroad the year after we -parted; I saw occasionally by the papers their residence at Paris, or -their journeying in Italy; and Grace's marriage with a Frenchman of good -family came to my knowledge through the same means. Why Josephine still -lingered unmarried I could only conjecture. Phil Arbuthnot returned to -America after spending a year with them in Paris, and I believe has -never rejoined them. - -So much for these once prominent participators in my interest, and now -of myself. In the home I had chosen I was soon as necessary as I was -occupied; Mrs. Arnold saw life and usefulness receding from her now with -less pain, that she saw one younger and stronger, able to take up the -duties that she had reluctantly laid down. There was no chance for time -to hang heavy on my hands; besides the occupations of the house, there -were unnumbered calls upon my energies in the parish. Mr. Shenstone was -no longer young, almost an old man now, and though his energy never -flagged, his strength did, and I found many ways of relieving him, and -inducing him to save himself and depend on me. I have no doubt he saw it -was the kindest thing he could do for me, and so the more willingly -yielded the duties to me. No one that sets himself or herself earnestly -at work, with a sincere desire to do right, and to atone for the past, -but will, sooner or later, feel the good effect of such effort; his -languor will yield before the invigorating glow of exercise, his nerves -will regain the tone they had lost, his pulse will beat with something -of its old vigor; he will, though never again the same man, be once more -a man, be free from the corroding melancholy that threatened to be his -ruin, and be ready to look on life with steadier, wiser eyes than in his -youth. Such reward work brings; no matter how plain and coarse and -unattractive the work may be, no matter if, in itself, it has no -interest and no charm, the will, the duty, the spirit in which it is -done, will give it its interest and its charm, and will bring it its -certain reward. Youth can hardly see this, misery cannot at first -acknowledge it, but none ever faithfully and patiently tried it, without -finding the truth of it. - -There is a lonely grave in the very heart of the pine forest, unmarked -by cross or stone, above which no prayers but mine have ever been said, -which the dark moss covers thickly, and around which the trees sound -their everlasting dirge. I have not learned to be tranquil there; years -more of faith and prayer may take the sting out of that sorrow, and -bring me to leave it utterly in His high hand who seeth not as man -seeth. If prayer could avail, after the grave had shut her mouth upon -any of the children of men, if fast and vigil, tears and penance, could -mitigate the wrath decreed against them, I might hope, I might stand by -that desolate mound with a less despairing heart. I have tried to -realize that God's ways are not as our ways, that nothing is impossible -with him, that His mercy is as incomprehensible as is His power; and -that our puny prayers, however they may chasten and purify ourselves, -are not needed, and not efficient in influencing His sentence on our -brothers' souls. - -There is enough to do among the living. "Let the dead Past bury its -dead." There are souls yet unsentenced to be prayed for and to be -gained, there are children to be brought to baptism and to be led -aright, there are dark homes of poverty and sin to be invaded with the -light of truth and love; there is doubt to be won to faith, ignorance to -be enlightened, sluggish indolence to be roused, God's church to work -for, His honor to be extended, our most holy faith to be spread and -reverenced; there is no need to languish for want of work, or to waste -tears and prayers upon that which is already in the hands of Almighty -Love and Almighty Power. - -Yes; I believe I was, through it all, happier than Mrs. Churchill, -haggard and worn in a service whose nominal wages are pleasure and ease; -and than Josephine, wasting her youth in the pursuit of an ambition that -had rewarded her as yet by nothing but vanity and vexation of spirit. A -gay hotel in Paris, and a secluded country parsonage--on the one hand -wealth, the pleasures of society, the admiration of the world, on the -other seclusion, the annihilation of every hope that had its root only -in this earth, the love only of the poor, the aged and the suffering, -yet I would not have exchanged their gaiety for my peace, their -prosperity for my adversity. - -"What should we do without you, child?" said Mr. Shenstone, kindly, one -day as I was leaving him. "What should we do without these young eyes -and this young zeal? I am afraid the village would begin to tire of its -old pastor, and to fret about his old ways and his new negligences, if -we had not this fresh enthusiast to throw herself into the breach, and -to save both flock and pastor from discouragement and disgust. You have -assimilated yourself strangely to those you have fallen among. Tell me -truly, my dear child, are you never weary of this dull life--never tired -of the companionship of two solitary, sad people, old and spiritless? We -are apt to forget--you cheer and comfort us--we must depress and sadden -you." - -"You? Oh, Mr. Shenstone! You know to whom it is I owe it that I have -conquered depression and sadness. You have done everything for me; may I -do nothing for you? It is little enough, surely, but it is my greatest -pleasure." - -"If it is--then go," he said, with a sad smile on his wan, furrowed -face. "Go and fulfill the duties that God has taken out of my hands, and -I will try to be patient and stay at home in idleness. I will try to -remember, - - 'They also serve who only stand and wait.' - -But God knows, it is the hardest kind of service!" - -Every day lately had been adding to his languor; I watched with anxious -foreboding his slow step and altered tone. It was the twenty-fourth of -December, and I knew that the contrast of his present inactivity at this -holy season, to former diligence, must be a keen trial to him with his -stern rules of duty. I left the house with a sigh, and went out into -the clear, still air of the winter afternoon, with the energy of youth -and earnestness in my veins, and thought, wonderingly, of the different -grades of trials, the "anguish of all sizes" that God's elect must pass -through, - - "Till every pulse beat true to airs divine." - -It must be hard, indeed, to "stand and wait," to feel that energy and -strength are going before life goes, and that there is nothing left to -do, only to endure. Such a trial, it seemed to me, would be the worst of -all: as long as there is work there is a panacea, but take away that, -and the burden grows intolerable. God spare me that! And I hurried on -through my many duties with double thankfulness that they were so many. - -The short winter afternoon was all too short for them--it was almost -sundown when I started to cross the common on my return from a distant -cottage. There was but one thing more to do to-night; the -school-children were waiting for me to go into the church and practice -their Christmas-hymn with them, and it was late already, so I quickened -my pace. I found my young pupils waiting for me around the gate of the -churchyard; they hailed me with acclamations, and clustering round my -skirts, followed me into the church. They were too well taught to -continue their chattering there, even if they had been unrestrained by -my presence, but I could not but believe the scene must have struck them -with some reverence, thoughtless and trifling though too many of them -were. The lowering sun streamed in through the stained glass of the -western windows, and lit up gorgeously the sombre church, illuminating -the joyful Christmas words above the altar, touching cross and star and -tablet with soft light, and laying rich and warm upon the glossy wreaths -that were twined round font and chancel, desk and pillar. Coming from -the cold air and wintry landscape, into such a mellow, warm, green -sanctuary, where there seemed no winter and no chill, I could -understand the feeling that checked the children's mirth so suddenly, -and made them look wistfully and silently around; and when their sweet, -young voices followed mine in the Christmas-hymn, and when the organ -yielded its full tones to my touch, arch and rafter, pavement and aisle -seemed to stretch away into infinity; the light that filled the church -was the glory of heaven; the sweet music, the voices of the angels; and -time and earth seemed to fade and recede, and floating down that path of -glory, I could almost have touched the open gates of heaven--almost have -mingled in the white-robed throng within. The chains of sin and sense -fall off--the sounds of warfare die away--the terrors of the conflict -with the hosts of hell are all forgotten; if one's soul could follow in -the wake of one's longing at such a moment as this, death would indeed -be conquered--the king of terrors be cheated of his prey. - -The glory had faded from the west, and dullness and gloom had crept into -the church before the young choir dispersed. It seemed as if the very -spirit of music had possessed the children; hymn after hymn, anthem and -carol, and never tired or flagging. As at last I rose to go, and bent -forward to shut the organ, one of them whispered eagerly: - -"There's somebody been below there in the church! I hear steps going -down the aisle; and hark! The door just opened and shut again." - -"No matter," I said, a little startled. "Some one has heard the music, -and come in to listen. Follow me quietly, children: it is almost dark; -we have stayed too late." - -The little group separated at the church door; bidding them good-night, -and taking by the hand the child whose way lay partly with mine going -home, I took the path toward the village. It gave me, I confess, a -little uneasiness to see how faint the daylight was, and the -conjecture--who could have been in the church so long and so silent, -recurred again and again uncomfortably. It was too late to trust little -Rosy to go home alone, so, though it took me a full half mile beyond my -own road, I kept on with her; and beguiling her with a Christmas story -as we went, soon succeeded in forgetting foolish fears, _malgre_ the -twilight and the lonesome road. At last we reached the little gate of -Rosy's home, and stooping to kiss her as I left her at it, I was turning -away, when a carriage drove quickly past toward Brandon. It was a -strange carriage, and it gave me a sort of start; I could not quite -recover my composure for some minutes; but then strangers came so seldom -through the village at this season, it was not very wonderful after all -that I had been startled. However, I reflected, it was not improbably -some one on the way from northward, detained by the freezing of the -river, and hurrying on to catch the evening train from Brandon; and with -that, dismissed the subject from my mind. - -When I reached home, I hurried into the study, anxious to explain to Mr. -Shenstone the cause of my long absence, and to make amends for it by -enlivening his evening. I found him alone; Mrs. Arnold had not been able -to leave her room for several days, and the study was in darkness, and -tea had not been thought of. - -"Why, how dismal you look, sir!" I exclaimed, as I came in. "I beg you -will excuse my staying till this hour; but the children were so in love -with their own voices, that I could not get them away; and that little -gipsy of a Rosy had to be escorted all the way home. Kitty should have -brought you lights, sir; shall I ring?" - -"No, not just yet; I am in no hurry. Sit down; are you not tired? I have -wondered at your being so late. You have missed a visitor." - -"A visitor? No! Why, who?" - -"One whom I little expected to see, and much less expected to have had -so short a visit from. I confess it has quite startled and unsettled -me, seeing him so unexpectedly and for such a moment. But he could not -stay over night, and the Brandon train leaves at half-past six, he says. -He was sorry you were away." - -"Mr. Rutledge has been here?" - -"Yes." - -"And gone?" - -"And gone." - - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIX. - - - "Be not amazed at life. 'Tis still - The mode of God with his elect, - Their hopes exactly to fulfill, - In times and ways they least expect." - -Coventry Patmore. - - -The winter passed heavily away: no change for the better relieved our -fears for Mr. Shenstone, and, before spring, poor Mrs. Arnold died, and -left me alone with the burden of care and dread. All that time is like a -sad, slow dream; I cannot tell the days apart as I look back upon -them--the one fear that grew daily colored all events alike. It was like -no other approaching death that I had ever seen. I knew he was longing -for his release; but what would be release to him would be my sentence -of banishment--my separation from the only friend I had, the severing of -the only tie I knew. - -Still it seemed vague and far off, and the warm spring days came slowly -on, and crept into June, before either he or I knew how very few he had -yet to live. The doctor had at last to tell me what every one else -knew--that Mr. Shenstone could not live a week. I do not think that he -himself, though knowing well that the time was at hand, had been aware -how very near it was. I knew it was not too near for his desires; but -one earthly care vexed the holy calm of his death-bed. - -"I must see Arthur before I die. Write to him again, and beg him to come -quickly. He could not have realized what I meant him to understand when -you wrote last, or he would have been here before." - -I wrote again urgently, and told him in the plainest words what the -necessity for his coming was, and how anxiously Mr. Shenstone desired an -interview before he died; that it was the one ungratified wish that -disturbed his last moments; the letter was hurriedly dispatched, and yet -day after day passed and no answer came. It was cruel to see the -momentary eagerness with which the dying man's eye lighted up at each -new sound without, and to hear the faint sigh with which he sank back at -the fresh disappointment. - -I had my own interpretation of this silence; but I dared not tell him. -Through the winter his letters had been irregular; it was now some weeks -since any had come; I did not feel a doubt but that he had gone abroad -again, and, in the hurry of departure, had omitted to write. Something -that Mrs. Fielding (the pretty Janet Emerson, married and living at New -Orleans, but on a visit to her old home, who had found me out and come -to see me a month or so before) had said, confirmed my suspicions. - -"I heard from Paris a week or so ago," she said, "that your cousin, Miss -Churchill, and Mr. Rutledge are really to be married. Upon my word, you -must excuse me; but it is a shame. I grudge him to her. Ah! _mechante_, -if you had made the proper use of that evening in the library that I -gave you, she would not have had him." - -I had not told Mr. Shenstone this; nor dared I tell him that there was -hardly a hope that his friend was still in America. A week had elapsed -since my letter had been sent; the end was surely approaching--we could -not shut our eyes to that. That morning, Mr. Shenstone had, with great -pain and difficulty, refusing my assistance, himself written a few lines -to Mr. Rutledge, and, sealing it, had committed it to my hands, charging -me to deliver it to him as soon as he should come. From the moment that -that was done, he had put off all care, and given himself wholly up to -the exercises of religion and the preparations for death. Of my future -he had never spoken much. God would direct my lot mercifully, he was -sure; he left me, his sole earthly care, with faith, to God's -protection. He desired that for the present I should remain, with the -two servants, in the house, till some other home presented, or till the -parsonage was required for his successor. - -It was a holy, religious day; such peace as soothed the last hours of -his life told well for the service in which he had spent it. It was not -like death--it was like the coming of a blessing that had been long -prayed for. We had with him received the sacrament, and heard the faint -words that told his triumph and his hope, and stood waiting around him, -almost following him to the courts of heaven, almost forgetting with -him, the world in which our path still lay; when through the window, -open to the sunset of a June evening, there came the sound of a hurried -arrival. - -"It is Arthur," murmured the dying man, faintly, turning his eyes on me. -"Go and bring him to me." - -I hurried to the door and down the path. "You have not a moment to -lose," I said, without a word of preparation or salutation. "He can -hardly live an hour, and he desires to see you." - -"Good heaven! Has it indeed come to that!" he exclaimed, following me up -the stairs. I left him at the door; for half an hour they were alone -together, then Mr. Rutledge opened the door and called me hastily to -come in. I obeyed; but only in time to receive the last blessing of the -dying saint, and, kneeling in unspeakable sorrow by his bedside, to feel -his hand rest tenderly on my head, with a silent benediction, even after -his departing soul had carried its supplication and its intercession to -the very presence of the Divine Benefactor. - -Two days had passed since the funeral; there was no more anxiety to -engross, no more watching to employ me; the blank idleness that is the -earliest pain after a great loss, was just then creeping over me with -its worst power. There was nothing more to do--the house was settled to -its ordinary ways, and I sat alone in my little room in the deepening -twilight, with a sadder sense of my loneliness than I had had before. It -was not time yet for me to think of what was to become of me; I had a -right to rest a little before I faced any greater change, yet harassing -thoughts of my homelessness and desolation crowded on me to make my -present trial heavier. There was no one on earth I had a right to call -my friend, save only the humble ones who could offer me nothing but -gratitude and affection, and who were as unable to direct and help me, -as I was to direct and help myself. It was long before I could summon -courage enough to say that I must decide upon some change, and to -resolve that it must be done now. There was no right and no propriety in -staying longer here than till I had arranged some other home; indeed for -some reasons this was the last roof that I should stay under now. But my -resolves came quick when they did come--I saw that the sooner I began my -new life the better; it would be like another death if I waited till a -few months hence before I left this dear home; now, in this time of -change and restlessness, I could best bear the pain. To-morrow, I had -resolved, I would go out and try to find some cottage or some rooms, -where, with Kitty to attend me, I could make the best of my slender -fortune, and remain quietly at least for the present, when a knock at -the door aroused me. The servant said: "Mr. Rutledge is in the study, -Miss, and desires to see you for a few moments." - -"Ask him to excuse me to-night," I began; but no, it was as easy now as -it would ever be, so telling the woman to say I would be down in a -moment, I shut the door and tried to prepare myself. There was a good -deal to help me to be calm; some pride and some humility--a prayer--and -the remembrance of my sorrow--and the gulf that lay between the present -and the past; and I went downstairs quite self-possessed and quiet. - -The study was so dusky I could hardly see my visitor's face as he rose -to meet me. I longed to keep the dusk, but said: - -"Do you mind twilight, sir? My head aches a little, but if you prefer -it, I will send for candles." - -"Not at all," he said, sitting down opposite me in the window. "I am -sorry to hear you are not well. Kitty told me, when she admitted me, -that it was doubtful whether you could come down; but I fancied you -would not have the least hesitation in declining to see me if you were -not able." - -"I did think, sir, when you were first announced, that I would beg you -to excuse me; but I remembered that possibly you might be returning to -the city to-morrow, and this might be my last chance of seeing you, so I -made an effort to come down." - -There was a moment's pause, which I broke by saying: - -"I wanted to see you, sir, about the change in my plans, which, as Mr. -Shenstone's nearest friend, you would, perhaps, be kind enough to -sanction." - -"It was about that that I came this evening." - -"You are very kind, sir, and so I may go at once to the subject. You -know, of course, of Mr. Shenstone's legacy; that, with my own property, -is sufficient to provide very comfortably for Kitty and myself. I -propose making my arrangements to leave here within a fortnight, keeping -Kitty with me; but for the other servant, Mary, I would ask your advice. -She has been some time in the family, and is a faithful person. Would it -be best to leave her in the house till it is otherwise occupied, or to -provide a place for her, and close the house? You know, as I shall have -the packing up and settling of all at the last, it is necessary I should -know your wishes." - -"I do not quite comprehend. I had understood from Mr. Shenstone that it -was his wish that you should remain for the present here. Did he not -express the same to you?" - -"He did, sir, but it was a mistaken kindness. I had rather go now; and I -do not think there can be any wrong in disregarding a request which he -only meant as an indulgence and a respite, and would not have insisted -on if he had known my reasons." - -"Can I know them?" - -"They are so many, sir, it would not be worth while to trouble you." - -"Am I wrong when I fancy that one is, that the house belongs to one from -whom you would not endure an obligation?" - -"You put it too harshly, sir; but in truth I do not like obligations." - -"You would incur none, then, let me assure you, by remaining here. The -house will be unoccupied; I should be glad to have some one in it, and -there is, I fear, little chance of having the parish permanently suited -with a clergyman before fall, and even after that, there is no necessity -of retaining this as a parsonage; there are one or two houses nearer the -church, which would, indeed, be more convenient." - -"Thank you, sir, but it will be impossible. You do not estimate the -difficulties. I cannot stay here: and perhaps you will be kind enough to -tell me what to do about the arrangement of the books. Shall they be -packed, or are they to remain on the shelves? And here, sir, is the key -of the private drawers in that book-case, that I was to give you when -you came." - -My voice faltered as I delivered my kind friend's last message. There -was a long pause, then Mr. Rutledge said: - -"These things are very trying to you now; there is no need that you -should distress yourself by attending to them at once. Leave them till -later." - -"No, sir, it is better that they should be all arranged before you go. I -do not mind the effort of undertaking it at once." - -"But how do you know I am going? Why will not a few weeks hence do as -well?" - -"Why, sir, as I told you, I should prefer that everything were settled, -the papers arranged, the house vacated, before you go abroad. It may -make no difference, but it will be more agreeable to me." - -"I am not going abroad; I do not intend to leave America again. Can you -not be contented to let things rest as they are at present, and to let -me, in some degree, take the place of him you have lost? Consider, you -are homeless and friendless--you have no one to direct or guide you"---- - -"I have considered this, sir, more fully, perhaps, than you have. There -is not a circumstance in my fate that I have not weighed. Indeed, I do -not need so much pity; your attention has just been called to it, and so -it sounds new and dreadful to you for a woman to be left so alone. But I -am used to the idea, and I do not mind it. People will be kind to me, no -doubt, and I shall do very well." - -"Then you are resolved to go away from here?" - -"Within a fortnight, sir." - -"And you refuse all offers of assistance from me, of all kinds?" - -"Why, sir, you know it would be useless to trouble you, when I do not -need any; but I hope you understand that I am very grateful for your -goodness." - -"I understand it fully, and that you decline any further demonstration -of it. But if you have no scruple against telling me where you intend to -go, perhaps it would be wiser to do it, as some cases may occur which -you cannot foresee, in which it would be safer for you to have the -judgment and advice of one whose age and experience place him above you -in knowledge, of the world, at least." - -"It would be impossible for me to tell you, sir, for I do not know in -the least where I shall go. You know I have not had time to arrange my -plans definitely--it is only two days--since--since--I have had to think -about them." - -"And you will not take more time, and put off any change for a few -months--you will not let me advise you?" - -"Mr. Rutledge, you are trying to make me seem rude; I have but one -answer to make, and it sounds so ungracious you are not kind to oblige -me to repeat it." - -"I will not; I believe I understand how you wish it to stand; and -perhaps you are right. It is not necessary to detain you longer," he -continued, rising, "there is nothing of importance left to say, I -believe. About the books and furniture, I should prefer having them left -for the present in the house; I will not trouble you to do anything but -to send the keys, when you leave, to my house. Mrs. Roberts will take -charge of them. The papers I can look over at my leisure. In regard to -the servant you spoke of--I will mention her to Mrs. Roberts, and will -see that she is provided with a situation. Is there anything more?" - -"Nothing that I remember at this moment, sir. You are very kind; I shall -endeavor to leave everything in the order you would wish." - -"I do not doubt it; I hope you will be able to bear whatever you intend -to put upon yourself, but you will do well not to overtask your strength -or fortitude just now; you are not at not at present fit for exertion. -But I forget"---- - -I rose, and held out my hand; he went on: "You know you have always my -best wishes; there is no need for me to say that." - -"I know it, sir," I replied, with what steadiness of voice I could. "I -wish I could tell you how"----but the words choked me. He did not -relinquish my hand, but with a sudden change from the cold tone of his -last words, he exclaimed hurriedly, and with a smothered vehemence: - -"You wish you could tell me what? You wish you could tell me what I -already know--could tell me that you pity me--that you are sorry for the -pain you give me? That you know how much it costs me to say a final -farewell to you--and that you are sorry--sorry. No! You need not wish to -do it; I can spare you that. I came to you to-night to see if time, and -sorrow, and necessity had not helped me in my suit; to try, for the last -time, whether there was any chance of winning you; I came to tempt you -by the fortune and the luxury I could offer you, just to endure my love, -and to repay, by ever so cold a kindness, the devotion of years. I came, -misled by a hope held out by one who loved us both too well to be an -impartial judge; and I find you colder, more distant than ever, and that -the hope I have been trying to extinguish so long is only rekindled to -be quenched at last utterly! - -"Foolish girl!" he went on, in a lower tone, "how little you know what -you throw away. How vain to cling so fondly to a memory. Believe me, it -will not be wronging the dead--I little thought I should ever stoop to -ask it, but only try to love me--only consent to give me your esteem and -consideration, and I will take the risk of teaching you to love me. Is -it nothing to be loved as I have loved you? To be the first, and last, -and only choice of a man who has had so many to choose from? Have you no -vanity that can be touched--no pride? If you had, I could allure you by -the promise that you should be proud of the position you would hold; -those who have slighted you should look at you with envy--those who"---- - -"Oh, Mr. Rutledge do not talk of those things now--I have given them up -forever; I shall never care again for the world--but--there is something -else--I"---- - -"You relent!" he murmured, eagerly. "You will consent to forget the -past--you will"---- - -"I must tell you one thing first; I must tell you something that I have -told to no one else. Heaven have mercy on me if it is a sin, or if I am -betraying what I should still conceal. I never felt the love you think I -did. I deceived him and you; but as I have been bitterly punished, and -bitterly penitent, so Heaven forgive me for it! Between him and me there -was another love, that began before I ever saw him--that is not ended -yet--that has never known change or wavering." - -"And that love?" - -Within his arms, my face hidden on his shoulder, I could whisper the -answer to that question, and the confession of the folly, and deceit, -and pride, that had so long kept me from him. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Rutledge, by Miriam Coles Harris - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RUTLEDGE *** - -***** This file should be named 40385.txt or 40385.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/0/3/8/40385/ - -Produced by Clare Graham & Joyce McDonald at -http://www.girlebooks.com - Marc D'Hooghe at -http://www.freeliterature.org - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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