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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 41542 ***
+
+ROSE CLARK.
+
+BY
+
+FANNY FERN.
+
+NEW YORK:
+PUBLISHED BY MASON BROTHERS
+1856.
+
+
+Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855, by
+MASON BROTHERS,
+In the Clerk's Office of the District Court, for the Southern
+District of New York.
+
+STEREOTYPED BY
+THOMAS B. SMITH,
+82 & 84 Beekman Street.
+
+PRINTED BY
+JOHN A. GRAY,
+97 Cliff St.
+
+
+
+
+Reader!
+
+
+When the frost curtains the windows, when the wind whistles fiercely at
+the key-hole, when the bright fire glows, and the tea-tray is removed,
+and father in his slippered feet lolls in his arm-chair; and mother with
+her nimble needle "makes auld claes look amaist as weel as new," and
+grandmamma draws closer to the chimney-corner, and Tommy with his plate
+of chestnuts nestles contentedly at her feet; then let my unpretending
+story be read. For such an hour, for such an audience, was it written.
+
+Should any _dictionary on legs_ rap inopportunely at the door for
+admittance, send him away to the groaning shelves of some musty library,
+where "literature" lies embalmed, with its stony eyes, fleshless
+joints, and ossified heart, in faultless preservation.
+
+Then, should the smile, and the tear, have passed round, while the
+candle flickers in the socket, if but one kindly voice murmur low,
+
+"MAY GOD BLESS HER!"
+
+it will brighten the dreams of
+
+FANNY FERN.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+                                                         PAGE
+THE ORPHAN ASYLUM--ROSE'S INTRODUCTION TO IT--MRS.
+MARKHAM--ROSE'S INITIATION--TIMMINS                        15
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+MR. BALCH.                                                 27
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+ROSE'S COMPANIONS--THE DINING-TABLE AND THE SCHOOLROOM.    30
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+AUNT DOLLY--HOW IT CAME TO PASS--TWO OLD MAIDS' OPINIONS
+ON LITERATURE, MEN AND MARRIAGE GENERALLY, AND
+ON THE BACHELORS OF DIFFTOWN PARTICULARLY.                 34
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+LITTLE TIBBS--AN INSTANCE OF MRS. MARKHAM'S "MOTHERLY
+CARE" OF THE ORPHANS.                                      39
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+THE FASHIONABLE UNDERTAKER.                                45
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+THE INVESTIGATING COMMITTEE "INSPECT" THE ASYLUM--MR.
+BALCH PRIVATELY RECORDS THE VERDICT ON THE HAND OF
+THE MATRON.                                                48
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+TIBBS' GHOST.                                              54
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+AUNT DOLLY REMOVES ROSE FROM THE ASYLUM--THE RIDE
+"HOME"--DOLLY'S IDEAS OF NATURE, SENTIMENT, AND DUTY.      57
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+AUNT DOLLY REFUSES ROSE'S REQUEST TO BE SENT TO SCHOOL,
+AND ATTEMPTS TO CONVINCE HER THAT LYING IS THE BEST
+POLICY.                                                    68
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+MR. CLIFTON, THE VILLAGE MINISTER--THE PARSONAGE.          71
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+MR. CLIFTON'S PASTORAL CALL ON DOLLY--THE CONVERSATION
+ABOUT ROSE.                                                76
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+DEATH AT THE PARSONAGE.                                    82
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+ROSE REQUESTS OF AUNT DOLLY A MEMENTO OF HER MOTHER.       86
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+ROSE IN THE MILLINER SHOP.                                 90
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+MRS. CLIFTON VISITS "THE BABY'S" GRAVE--A PLEASANT
+SURPRISE--DOLLY'S SICKNESS--DAFFY'S SOLILOQUY.             94
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+DOLLY CONVALESCES AND EFFERVESCES--BAKING-DAY, AND
+ROSE'S FIRST ATTEMPT AT COOKING--HEART'S-EASE.            101
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+VILLAGE GOSSIP--THE DESOLATE PARSONAGE.                   109
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+THE CHILD-MOTHER--AUNT DOLLY'S LETTER.                    112
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+A GLIMPSE AT BACHELOR QUARTERS.                           119
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+ROSE'S SICK BABE--AUNT DOLLY, AS THE FASHIONABLE MRS.
+JOHN HOWE.                                                122
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+OLD MRS. BOND'S VISIT TO THE CITY--SILENT REPROOF.        128
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+MR. FINELS, MRS. HOWE'S INTIMATE FRIEND--MRS. BOND'S
+INTERVIEW WITH ROSE.                                      133
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+A PASSAGE-AT-ARMS BETWEEN MRS. HOWE AND HER FASHIONABLE
+FEMALE FRIEND.                                            147
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+MR. HOWE ATTEMPTS AN INDEPENDENT COURSE OF ACTION--HE
+REMOVES ROSE AND LITTLE CHARLEY FROM THE ATTIC TO THE
+BEST SPARE ROOM--MRS. HOWE "LETS HIM HEAR FROM IT."       152
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+ROSE MAKES AN ASTOUNDING DISCOVERY--MR. HOWE VENTURES
+ON A CONNUBIAL JOKE--THE RESULT OF MR. HOWE'S
+JOKE--ROSE AND HER SICK BABE IN THE STAGE-COACH.          158
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+MRS. BOND'S RECEPTION OF ROSE--THE OLD LADY'S CHRISTIAN
+FAITH AND PHILOSOPHY.                                     170
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+THE WASH-ROOM--THE BRUTAL REMARK.                         172
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+MISS BODKIN'S ACCOUNT OF THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF MRS.
+JOHN HOWE.                                                176
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX.
+
+THE FLIGHT OF ROSE, WITH LITTLE CHARLEY.                  181
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+THE CHRISTENING, AT MRS. HOWE'S--THE SECRET WHISPER--THE
+DENOUEMENT.                                               184
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+ROSE AT SEA--CAPTAIN LUCAS--FRITZ--DOCTOR PERRY--THE
+MARRIAGE PROPOSAL.                                        189
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+THE CAPTAIN AND DR. PERRY--ARRIVAL IN NEW ORLEANS.        198
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+ROSE'S NEW HOME--THE MANIAC'S STORY--NEWS OF VINCENT.     202
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+MRS. HOWE THINKS IT TIME TO GO TO THE SPRINGS--MR. HOWE
+ATTEMPTS TO CHERISH AN OPINION OF HIS OWN--THE MAGIC
+WHISPER.                                                  209
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+THE MYSTERY EXPLAINED.                                    212
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII.
+
+ROSE'S ILLNESS.                                           215
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+
+THE LADY ARTIST.                                          218
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX.
+
+GERTRUDE'S STORY.                                         226
+
+
+CHAPTER XL.
+
+MR. AND MRS. HOWE ON THE ROAD TO THE SPRINGS--A RAILROAD
+ACCIDENT--THE TABLES TURNED.                              256
+
+
+CHAPTER XLI.
+
+CHARLEY'S INTRODUCTION TO THE VINCENT MANSION--DOCTOR
+PERRY AGAIN SEEKS TO MAKE ROSE HIS WIFE--GERTRUDE'S
+LOCKET--THE RECOGNITION.                                  264
+
+
+CHAPTER XLII.
+
+MADAME VINCENT'S PRESENT TO CHARLEY.                      278
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIII.
+
+JOHN AND GERTRUDE--A BIT OF WOMAN'S PHILOSOPHY.           280
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIV.
+
+ROSE PROPOSES TO TURN AUTHORESS--GERTRUDE GIVES HER
+SOME CHOICE SPECIMENS OF CRITICISM.                       286
+
+
+CHAPTER XLV.
+
+MISS ANNE COOPER--MADAME VINCENT'S SEXAGENARIAN LOVE
+REMINISCENCES.                                            291
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVI.
+
+MADAME VINCENT'S VISIT TO ROSE.                           300
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVII.
+
+MISS ANNE COOPER'S DIPLOMACY.                             304
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVIII.
+
+MADAME MACQUE TURNS ROSE OUT OF DOORS.                    369
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIX.
+
+CUPID IN THE KITCHEN--HIGH LIFE BELOW STAIRS.             312
+
+
+CHAPTER L.
+
+A LETTER FROM MR. FINELS.                                 320
+
+
+CHAPTER LI.
+
+ROSE, GERTRUDE, AND JOHN, AT NIAGARA--THE AGED
+COUPLE--THE HUSBAND CARRIED OVER THE FALLS, AND
+THE MOURNER'S STORY.                                      323
+
+
+CHAPTER LII.
+
+A CHAPTER ON MAN'S VANITY.                                335
+
+
+CHAPTER LIII.
+
+MARKHAM FOUND OUT--BALCH REPENTANT.                       340
+
+
+CHAPTER LIV.
+
+THE UNEXPECTED APPEARANCE OF MR. STAHLE, AND ITS
+CONSEQUENCES.                                             344
+
+
+CHAPTER LV.
+
+ROSE'S DREAM.                                             349
+
+
+CHAPTER LVI.
+
+A SCENE IN MRS. HOWE'S PARLOR.                            353
+
+
+CHAPTER LVII.
+
+MRS. BOND'S STRANGE VISITOR.                              359
+
+
+CHAPTER LVIII.
+
+ANOTHER LETTER FROM MR. FINELS.                           366
+
+
+CHAPTER LIX.
+
+A CHAPTER ON BOSTON, ITS INHABITANTS AND ENVIRONS.        368
+
+
+CHAPTER LX.
+
+JOHN'S DREAM.                                             376
+
+
+CHAPTER LXI.
+
+SCENE ON BOARD CAPTAIN LUCAS'S SHIP.                      379
+
+
+CHAPTER LXII.
+
+GERTRUDE'S SORROWFUL DAY.                                 383
+
+
+CHAPTER LXIII.
+
+A THIRD LETTER FROM MR. FINELS.                           385
+
+
+CHAPTER LXIV.
+
+CHARLEY'S CHILD-SORROW.                                   389
+
+
+CHAPTER LXV.
+
+MRS. BOND'S FUNERAL.                                      394
+
+
+CHAPTER LXVI.
+
+THE MEETING OF JOHN AND THE STRANGER.                     379
+
+
+CHAPTER LXVII.
+
+THE STRANGER IN GERTRUDE'S STUDIO--ROSE'S PICTURE
+RECOGNIZED--THE MEETING.                                  402
+
+
+CHAPTER LXVIII.
+
+VINCENT'S STORY.                                          405
+
+
+CHAPTER LXIX.
+
+JOHN'S TRIUMPH.                                           410
+
+
+CHAPTER LXX.
+
+JOHN AND VINCENT.                                         412
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXI.
+
+PEACE--RETRIBUTION.                                       414
+
+
+
+
+ROSE CLARK.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+"Here is number fifty-four, Timmins," said the matron of a
+charity-school to her factotum, as she led in a little girl about six
+years of age; "number fifty-four; you must put another cot in the long
+hall, and another plate in the eating-room. What is your name, child?"
+
+"Rose," replied the little one, vailing her soft, dark eyes under their
+curtaining lashes, and twisting the corner of a cotton shawl.
+
+"Rose!" repeated the matron, in a contemptuous aside, to Timmins; "I
+knew it would be sure to be something fanciful; beggars always go on
+stilts."
+
+"I am not a beggar," said the child, "I am mother's little Rose."
+
+"Mother's little Rose?" repeated the matron, again, in the same sneering
+tone; "well--who was mother?"
+
+"Mother is dead," said the child, with a quivering lip.
+
+"No loss, either," said Mrs. Markham to Timmins, "since she did not
+know better than to let the child run in the streets."
+
+"Mother was sick, and I had to go of errands," said the child,
+defensively.
+
+"Ah, yes--always an excuse; but do you know that I am the matron of this
+establishment? and that you must never answer me back, in that way? Do
+you know that you must do exactly as I and the committee say? Timmins,
+bring me the scissors and let us lop off this mop of a wig," and she
+lifted up the clustering curls, behind which Rose seemed trying to hide.
+
+"There--now you look proper and more befitting your condition," said
+Mrs. Markham, as the sheared lamb rose from its kneeling posture and
+stood before her. "Timmins, Timmins!" Mrs. Markham whispered, "don't
+throw away those curls; the hairdresser always allows me something
+handsome for them. It is curious what thick hair beggar children always
+have."
+
+"But I am not a beggar," said Rose again, standing up very straight
+before Mrs. Markham.
+
+"Look at it," said Mrs. Markham, with a sneer; "look at it, Timmins, it
+is 'not a beggar.' Look at its ragged frock, and soiled shawl, and torn
+pinafore; it 'is not a beggar.' We shall have some work to do here,
+Timmins. Come here, Rose."
+
+"Did you hear me, child?" she repeated, as Rose remained stationary.
+
+The child moved slowly toward Mrs. Markham.
+
+"Look me in the eye."
+
+Rose cast a furtive glance at the stern, hard face before her.
+
+"Do you know that naughty girls, in this house, stay in dark closets."
+
+Rose shuddered, but made no reply.
+
+"Ah, I thought so; you had better remember that. Now, go away with
+Timmins, and have the school uniform put on; 'not a beggar!' was there
+ever the like of that?" and Mrs. Markham settled herself in her
+rocking-chair, put her feet upon the sofa, and composed herself for her
+after-dinner nap.
+
+As she reclines there, we will venture to take a look at her: not a
+phrenological glance, for she has a cap on her head; under its frilled
+borders peep some wiry artificial curls; her lips are thin and vixenish;
+her nose sharp and long, with a bridge which seems to defy the beholder
+to cross her will; her dress clings very tightly to her bean-pole
+figure; and on her long arm hangs a black velvet bag, containing her
+spectacles, snuff-box, and some checkerberry lozenges, which she has a
+pleasant way of chewing before the children in school hours. You may
+know that she expects a call to-day, because she has on her festal gilt
+breast-pin with a green stone in the center.
+
+"Beg your pardon, ma'am; sorry to wake you," said Timmins, with a very
+flushed face; "but I can't do nothing with that young one, though I have
+tried my best. I went up stairs to wash her all over, according to rule,
+before I put on the school uniform; and when I began to strip her, she
+pulled her clothes all about her, and held them tight, and cried, and
+took on, saying that nobody ever saw her all undressed but her mother,
+and all that sort of thing."
+
+"The affected little prude! and to break up my nap, too!" said Mrs.
+Markham. "I'll teach her--come along, Timmins."
+
+True enough; there stood Rose in the corner, as Timmins had said; her
+dress half torn off in the scuffle, leaving exposed her
+beautifully-molded shoulders and back, while with her little hands she
+clutched the remaining rags closely about her person. With her dilated
+nostrils, flushed cheeks, and flashing eyes, she made a tableau worth
+looking at.
+
+"Come here," hissed Mrs. Markham, in a tone that made Rose's flesh
+creep.
+
+Rose moved slowly toward her.
+
+"Take off those rags--every one of them."
+
+"I can not," said Rose; "oh, don't make me; I can not."
+
+"Take them off, I say. What! do you mean to resist me?" (as Rose held
+them more tenaciously about her;) and grasping her tightly by the wrist,
+she drew her through a long passage-way, down a steep pair of stairs,
+and pushing her into a dark closet, turned the key on her and strode
+away.
+
+"Obstinate little minx," she said, as she passed Timmins, on her return
+to her rocking-chair and to her nap.
+
+"Hark! Mrs. Markham! Mrs. Markham!--what's that groan? Hadn't I better
+open the door and peep in?"
+
+"That is always the way with you, Timmins: no, of course not. She can
+affect groaning as well as she can affect delicacy; let her stay there
+till her spirit is well broke; when I get ready I will let her out
+myself;" and Mrs. Markham walked away.
+
+But Timmins was superstitious, and that groan haunted her, and so she
+went back to the closet to listen. It was all very still; perhaps it was
+not Rose, after all; and Timmins breathed easier, and walked a few steps
+away; and then again, perhaps it was, and Timmins walked back again. It
+would do no harm to peep, at any rate; the key was in the lock, and Mrs.
+Markham never would know it. Timmins softly turned it;--she called,
+
+"Rose!"
+
+No answer. She threw open the blind in the entry, that the light might
+stream into the closet. There lay the child in strong convulsions.
+Timmins knew she risked nothing in calling Mrs. Markham now.
+
+"Come quick--quick--she is dying!"
+
+"Pshaw! only a trick," said Mrs. Markham, more nervous than she chose
+to acknowledge, as she consulted her watch and thought of the visitor
+she was expecting.
+
+"Take her up, Timmins," said she, after satisfying herself the child was
+senseless, "take her into my room, and put her on the bed."
+
+"Gracious! how can I?" asked Timmins, looking with dismay at the blood
+flowing profusely from a wound in the temple, occasioned by her fall;
+"she looks so dreadful, Mrs. Markham."
+
+"Fool!" exclaimed that lady, as she snatched up the little sufferer in
+her arms, and walked rapidly through the entry. "That's the door bell,
+Timmins; that is Mr. Balch; tell him I will be there directly--mind--not
+a word about the child, as you value your place. I have not forgotten
+that brown soap business."
+
+The cowed Timmins retired as she was bid; and Mrs. Markham, laying the
+insensible child on the bed, closed the door of her room and applied the
+proper restoratives; for her position involved some little knowledge of
+the healing art. After a while, Rose opened her eyes, but as suddenly
+closed them again, as they revealed the form of her persecutor.
+
+"_You_ can attend to her now," said Mrs. Markham to Timmins, about half
+an hour after, as she went down to receive Mr. Balch.
+
+Timmins walked about the room uneasily, for Rose's ghastly face
+distressed her.
+
+"If she would only speak, or open her eyes!" but the child did neither.
+Timmins coughed and hemmed, but Rose did not seem to notice it; at last,
+going up to the bed-side, she passed her hand over her forehead.
+
+"Don't," whispered Rose, glancing round the room as if afraid of seeing
+Mrs. Markham; "don't try to make me well, I want to die."
+
+"Oh, no, you don't," exclaimed Timmins, more frightened than ever;
+"that's awful--you won't go to Heaven, if you talk that way."
+
+"Won't I?" asked the child; "won't I go to Heaven and be with my
+mother?"
+
+"No," said Timmins, oracularly; "no--in course you won't; all of us has
+to wait till we are sent for; we can't, none of us, hurry the time, or
+put it off, nuther, when it comes."
+
+"When will my time come?" asked Rose, sadly.
+
+"Lor'! how you talk--don't go on that way; you've got a while to live
+yet; you are nothing but a baby."
+
+"Shall I always live here?" asked Rose, looking round again, as if in
+fear of Mrs. Markham.
+
+"You'll live here till you are bound out, I reckon."
+
+"What's that?" asked Rose, innocently.
+
+"Wall, I never!" exclaimed Timmins; "haven't you never heern about being
+bound out?"
+
+"No," answered Rose, a little ashamed of her ignorance.
+
+"Wall, the upshot of it is, that you are sent away to live with any body
+that Mrs. Markham and the committee say, and work for them just as long
+as they tell you, for your meat, and drink, and clothing."
+
+"What is a committee?" asked Rose.
+
+"Why, it's Mr. Balch, and Mr. Skinner, and Mr. Flint, and Mr. Stone, and
+Mr. Grant, and them."
+
+"Can't you ever get away from the place where they send you?" asked
+Rose.
+
+"What a thing you are to ask questions. Yes, I spose you kin, if you die
+or get married--it amounts to about the same thing," said Timmins, with
+a shrug of her divorced shoulders.
+
+"To whom shall I be bound out?" asked the child.
+
+"Land's sake, as if I could tell; perhaps to one person, perhaps to
+another."
+
+This answer not being very satisfactory to Rose, she turned her face to
+the pillow and heaved a deep sigh.
+
+"Haven't you got no folks?" asked Timmins.
+
+"What?"
+
+"No folks? no relations, like?"
+
+"None but Aunt Dolly."
+
+"Who is Aunt Dolly?"
+
+"I don't know; I never saw her till she brought me here."
+
+"Where did she bring you from?"
+
+"My mother's grave."
+
+"Yes--but what house did you live in when she took you?"
+
+"I didn't live in any house; all day long I sat on my mother's grave,
+and, at night, I crept behind some boards, by the grave-yard, and slept.
+
+"Land's sake, didn't you have nothing to eat?"
+
+"Sometimes--I was not much hungry, my heart ached so bad; sometimes the
+children gave me pieces of bread and cake, as they went to school."
+
+"What did you do all day at your mother's grave?"
+
+"Talked to mamma."
+
+"Land's sake, child, dead folks can't hear."
+
+"Can't they?" asked Rose, with a quivering lip. "Didn't my mamma hear
+what I said to her?"
+
+"In course not," answered Timmins. "Why, what a chick you are. If you
+weren't so bright, I should think you was an idiot."
+
+"What are you crying for?"
+
+Rose kept on sobbing.
+
+"Come now, don't take on so," said the uneasy Timmins, "you are not the
+only person who has had a hard time of it. I was a little girl once."
+
+"Were you?" asked Rose, wiping her eyes, and surveying Timmins's Meg
+Merrilees proportions.
+
+"Yes, of course," said Timmins, laughing; "just as if you didn't know
+that every grown-up woman must have been a little girl once. Do you say
+those things a purpose, or do they come by accident, like?"
+
+"Did _your_ mother die?" asked Rose, not appearing to hear Timmins's
+last question.
+
+"Yes--and father, and brother, and sister, and the hull on 'em."
+
+"Did you cry?"
+
+"I 'spose so; I know I was awful hungry."
+
+"But did you cry because your mother was dead?"
+
+"Partly, I suppose."
+
+"When you went to bed, did you think you saw her face with a cloud all
+around it, and did you call 'Mother?' and did the eyes look sad at you,
+but stay still where they were? and when you went up toward the cloud
+and the face, did it all go away?"
+
+"Lor', no; how you talk," said Timmins, as Rose's face grew still paler.
+"Don't--you make my flesh creep."
+
+"You wouldn't be afraid of your own dear mamma, would you?" asked Rose.
+
+"Lor', yes, if she came to me that way," answered Timmins. "It isn't
+natur', child; you saw a--a--," and Timmins hesitated to pronounce the
+word ghost.
+
+"I know you wouldn't run away from it, if it looked so sweet and loving
+at you," said Rose; "but why did it not come nearer to me? and why did
+it all fade away when I put out my arms to clasp it? That made me think
+it couldn't be my mamma, after all; and yet it was mamma, too, but so
+pale and sad."
+
+"Wall--I don't know," said the perplexed Timmins; "you are beyend me; I
+don't know nothing about sperrits, and I don't want to; but come here;
+you've been asking me all sorts of questions, now I should like to ask
+you one."
+
+"Well," said Rose, abstractedly.
+
+"What on airth made you carry on so like sixty about my washing you?
+Don't you like me?"
+
+"Y--e--s," replied Rose, blushing deeply.
+
+"Wall, then, what was the matter with you? any scars on your body, or
+any thing?"
+
+"No," said Rose.
+
+"What _did_ ail you, then? for I'm curious to know; why didn't you want
+me to wash you?"
+
+"It made me feel ashamed," said Rose; "nobody ever washed me but mamma;
+I didn't mind my mamma."
+
+"Wall, I'm beat if I can understand that," said Timmins, looking
+meditatively down upon the carpet; "and one of your own sect, as they
+call it, too. It seems ridikilis; but let me tell you, you'd better make
+no fuss here; none of the other childern does."
+
+"Other children?" asked Rose, "are there more children here? I did not
+hear any noise or playing."
+
+"No, I reckon you didn't," said Timmins, laughing. ("I wish to the land
+Mrs. Markham had heard you say that;") and Timmins laughed again, as if
+it was too good a joke to be thrown away on one listener.
+
+"Are _their_ mothers dead, too, Timmins?"
+
+"I dare say--I reckon some on 'em don't know much who their fathers and
+mothers was," said Timmins.
+
+"They had some, didn't they?"
+
+"In course," said Timmins; "why, you are enough to kill old folks;
+sometimes you are away beyend me, and sometimes not quite up to me, as
+one may say, but you'd better shut up now, for Mrs. Markham will be
+along presently."
+
+"Do you think Mrs. Markham is a good woman?" asked Rose.
+
+"About as good as you've seen," said the diplomatic Timmins, touching
+the cut on Rose's temple; "the quicker you mind her when she speaks, the
+better--that's all."
+
+"Do _you_ like her?" asked Rose.
+
+"No--sh--yes--why, what a thing you are to make people say what they
+don't mean to. I like you, any how. But don't you never act as if I did,
+before folks, because my hands is tied, you see."
+
+"I don't know what you mean," said Rose.
+
+"Sh--sh--didn't I tell you to shut up? Somebody is as stealthy as a
+cat;" and Timmins looked uneasily at the key-hole of the door.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+Mr. Balch was a bachelor of forty-five, with a small fortune, and a
+large bump of credulity. Like all ancient and modern bachelors, he liked
+"to be made of," and Mrs. Markham's hawk eye discovered this little
+weakness, and turned it to her own advantage. A moneyed man's vote on a
+committee is of some importance, and Markham had an eye to the
+perpetuity of her salary; further than that, we have no right to probe
+the secrets of her unappropriated heart.
+
+On the visit in question, she received Mr. Balch very graciously,
+inquired with great solicitude concerning his rheumatism, which she
+averred was quite prevalent that year among _young_ people; gave him the
+most eligible seat on the sofa, and apologized for having kept him
+waiting so long.
+
+"Not a word, my dear lady, not a word," said the pleased Balch. "We all
+know how onerous are your duties, and how indefatigably conscientious
+you are in the performance of them. It was spoken of at the last meeting
+of the Board; I wish you to know that your services are fully
+appreciated by us."
+
+"Oh! thank you--thank you, Mr. Balch. You are too kind. None of us can
+say that we are insensible to appreciation, or independent of our
+fellow-creatures. It is particularly grateful to me in my lonely
+condition" (and here Markham heaved a sigh as long as her corsets would
+allow her,) "for these dear little orphans are all I have to love, and I
+think I may say I have won their little hearts."
+
+"We know it, we all know it, my dear lady; but you must not allow your
+duties to press _too_ heavily. I thought you looked over-weary this
+evening."
+
+"Do I?" asked Markham, snapping her eyes to make them look brighter.
+"Ah, well--it is very likely--the poor little darling who came here
+to-day, was taken in a fit. I find she is subject to them, and I had
+just brought her safely out of it, when I came to you. One can't help
+feeling at such a time, you know, unless indeed, one is a stock, or a
+stone, and my sensibilities are almost too acute for my situation."
+
+"Very true, my dear lady; but for _our_ sakes, for _my_ sake," and Mr.
+Balch lowered his tone, "do try to control them, though to me, a female
+without sensibility is a--a--monster, Mrs. Markham."
+
+"I can't conceive of it," said that lady, in extreme disgust.
+
+"No, of course you can not; how should you?" asked Balch. "I wish that
+I--we--I--dared say how much we think of you."
+
+"Oh!" said Markham, with a little deprecatory waive of her hand, "I
+only do my duty, Mr. Balch."
+
+"Yes, you do--a great deal more--much more than any one with less heart
+would think of doing; you are too modest, Mrs. Markham; you underrate
+yourself, Mrs. Markham; I shall move at the next meeting of the Board to
+have your salary raised," said Balch, with enthusiasm.
+
+"Oh, I beg--I beg"--said Markham, covering her face with her
+hands--"pray don't, Mr. Balch--I am not at all mercenary."
+
+"My _dear_ lady," seizing her hands--"as if we--I--we--could think
+so--and of _you_? I shall certainly propose it at our next meeting, and
+if the Board haven't the means to do it, I know who has;" and Balch
+squeezed Markham's hand.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+In a large, uncarpeted, barren-looking room, round narrow strips of
+table, were seated Mrs. Markham's collected charge, at dinner. Each
+little head was as closely shaven as if the doctor had ordered it done
+for blistering purposes; and each little form was closely swathed in
+indigo-blue factory cotton, drawn bag-fashion round the neck; their
+lack-luster eyes, stooping forms, and pale faces, telling to the
+observant eye their own eloquent tale of suffering.
+
+The stereotyped blessing was duly mumbled over by Mrs. Markham, and the
+bread and molasses distributed among the wooden plates. There was little
+havoc made, for appetizing fresh air and exercise had been sparingly
+dealt out by Mrs. Markham, who had her reward in being spoken of, in the
+Reports of the Committee, as "a most economical, trustworthy person,
+every way qualified for her important position." For all that, it was
+sad to see the hopeless, weary look on those subdued faces, and to
+listen to the languid, monotonous tone in which they replied to any
+question addressed them.
+
+Rose sat over the untasted morsel, looking vainly from one face to
+another, for some glance of sympathy for the new comer.
+
+_They_ were once new comers--some long since, some more newly; their
+hearts, too, like Rose's, had yearned for sympathy; their ears ached, as
+did hers, for one kind tone; but that was all past. Many suns had risen
+and set on that hopeless search; risen and set, but never on their
+sports or plays.
+
+The moon sometimes looked in upon them asleep in their little narrow
+cots. She saw the bitter waking from some mocking dream of home. She saw
+them spring suddenly from their couches, as they dreamed that the
+inexorable bell summoned them to rise. She saw them murmuring in their
+restless slumbers, the tasks which their overworked brains had failed to
+commit, and for which their much abused physiques were held responsible.
+
+Morning came; no eye brightened at their waking; no little tongue bade a
+silver-toned 'good-morrow;' no little foot tripped deftly out of bed:
+for Markham stood at the door--Markham with her bell, and her bunch of
+keys, and her ferule--Markham, stern and immovable as if she never were
+a little child, or as if God had forgotten, when he made her, to give
+her a heart.
+
+And so, as I said before, Rose sat looking round the table, over her
+untasted food, and wondering why it was the children looked so old, so
+different from any children she ever saw before; and then she thought
+that, perhaps, when they were all alone together (as if the hawk-eyed
+Markham would ever leave them alone together), some little child might
+come up, and put its arm around her neck, and pity and love her. But day
+after day went monotonously by; they all went speechless to dinner,
+speechless to the school-room, speechless to bed.
+
+Twice a day they were walked in file round the paved yard, through which
+not a blade of grass dared struggle; walled in from the little children
+outside, whose merry laughs and shouts startled the little prisoners as
+if _those_ tones were unnatural, and only _their_ listless life real. As
+evening came on, they sat drowsily stooping over their tasks, or
+clicking the monotonous knitting-needle, till weary lids _would_ droop,
+and tired fingers resumed their task only at the rap from Markham's
+ferule.
+
+Rose saw it all now--she felt it--the torpor--gradually creeping over
+her, and numbing her senses; she ceased to talk about her mother. She
+did mechanically what she was bid; and, in the approving words of
+Markham, was
+
+"Quite a subdued child."
+
+At stated times, the committee came in to look at them, and remarked how
+inevitably children of the lower classes inherited poor constitutions
+from their depraved parents, and went away as satisfied as if, granting
+this to be the case, they were humanely endeavoring to remedy the
+inherited curse; as if they were not keeping those growing limbs in
+overstrained positions for hours, and depriving them of the blessed air
+and sunshine, which God intended childhood to revel in as freely as the
+birds and flowers.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+"Well, what did you see in the city, Dolly?" asked a village gossip of
+the village milliner.
+
+"What are the summer fashions? Any thing new? Flounces worn, I suppose?
+Always will be, for tall people, they are so becoming. Mantillas worn,
+or shawls? Do they trim bonnets with flowers or ribbons? Do they wear
+heels on the shoes or tread spat down on the pavement? What is there new
+for sleeves? I am going to have a ninepenny calico made up, and I want
+to know all about every thing."
+
+"I hadn't as much time to look round as I wanted, not by half," answered
+Dolly, "for the stores are full of splendid goods. I had to put that
+child of Maria's into the orphan asylum. People began to talk because I
+didn't look after it. I am sure I can't support it, at least not till it
+is big enough to pay, by helping me in the shop here. People always die
+just at the wrong time. If Maria had only waited a year or two, now,
+till that young one had grown bigger; and if she had brought her up to
+be good for any thing (she is a little shy kind of a whimpering thing,
+no more life in her then a stick); but I don't intend her living shall
+come out of me. I have worked hard for what money I have, and I know how
+to keep it. She shall stay at that asylum till she is big enough to help
+me, as I said before, and then she must work enough here to pay for her
+bread and butter."
+
+"That's it," said Miss Kip. "People who can't live to take care of
+children have no business to have them, that is my creed. Was your
+sister like you, Dolly?"
+
+"No; I guess she wasn't. She was after every book she could find, before
+she could speak plain, and when she got hold of one, you might fire off
+a pistol in the room, and she wouldn't hear it. She crammed her head
+inside, and I crammed mine outside," said Dolly, laughing; "for I had a
+real milliner's knack before I left off pantalettes. Why, you never saw
+any thing like our Maria. She went and sold the only silk gown she had
+to buy a grammar and dictionary, to learn what she acknowledged was a
+dead language."
+
+"What a fool!" exclaimed Miss Kip.
+
+"Of course," said Dolly; "letting alone the gown, which was bran new,
+what was the use of her learning a language that was dead and out of
+fashion? Well, there was a Professor Clark, who used to come to see her,
+and you ought to have heard the heathenish noises they made with that
+'dead language,' as they called it; it was perfectly ridikilis. He said
+Maria was an extraordinary girl! as if that was any news, when every
+body knew she never did any thing like other folks. Why, she'd pretend
+she saw bears, and dippers, and ple--pleasure-rides, I believe she
+called them, up among the stars."
+
+"What a fool!" exclaimed Kip, again.
+
+"Yes; and she said the earth was round and hollow, just as if any of us
+could live in safety, hanging on the outside of an egg-shell, and _it_
+turning round all the time, too--it was ridikilis!
+
+"Well, Professor Clark married her, and their house was fixed up with
+books, and pictures, and every thing of that sort which Maria liked. I
+never went to see them, for they never talked about any thing that
+interested me. Maria didn't care a penny whether her bonnet was an old
+or a new one, so long as it was clean and whole. She had no eyes nor
+ears for any thing but her books and her husband, till that child was
+born, and then she acted just so about that. When it was five years old,
+its father died, and then nothing would do but Maria must go after him,
+as if there was nobody in the world worth looking at but Professor
+Clark. She might have got married again, and then I should not have had
+that child to look after. I know she will turn out just like her mother.
+She looks just like her, and has all her superfine, good-for-nothing
+lady ways already.
+
+--"No, I did not have any time at all to look after the fashions in the
+city. The things there are enough to drive you distracted. Such
+beautiful big plaid and striped silks; such gay trimmings, and bright
+shawls. I declare every thing looks so homely here in this village, when
+I come back, that I am perfectly disgusted. Those old poke bonnets of
+the Cramm girls, trimmed with that pink ribbon they have worn two
+seasons, and Mrs. Munroe's rusty-looking black mantilla--it is perfectly
+disgusting."
+
+"So it is," said the sympathizing Kip, "I am tired to death of them,
+myself. I really wonder, Dolly, you can make up your mind to stay here
+in this dull place. Why don't you move into the city?"
+
+"Perhaps, I shall, one of these days," said Dolly, with a toss of her
+head. "I feel as though I was born to better things. It is dull work for
+a woman to live all her life alone."
+
+"I know it," said Kip, disconsolately.
+
+"There are men enough in the world, no doubt of that," said Dolly, "and
+when I go about with them, in the city, I quite enjoy it; but one sees
+nothing here, except frogs and crickets; it is perfectly disgusting."
+
+"So it is," chimed Kip; "and such splendid moonlight-nights as we have,
+too, and such nice places to walk."
+
+"Yes, but to walk with a _woman_!" said Dolly. "I like you very well,
+Kip; but when one _has_ had gentlemen's society, it is like swallowing
+the parings, after having eaten the peach."
+
+"So it is," said Kip (quite willing in such a cause to be tossed
+unceremoniously among the parings).
+
+"Well, it is just here," said Dolly, "I will own it to _you_, Kip, I
+mean to get married!"
+
+"You don't!" screamed Kip; "to whom?"
+
+"Lord knows, I don't, but I feel sure I shall do it."
+
+"How?" asked Kip, with great interest.
+
+"Never you mind," said Dolly; "see if I don't live in the city before
+long. Such times as they have there! Theaters, concerts, shows, balls,
+and every body so pleased with every body; such a delightful noise and
+bustle and racket. And just look round this village! You might hear the
+town clock tick; it is perfectly disgusting. There is not a man in it,
+of any account, but Sprigg's the blacksmith, and he has but one foot;
+sometimes I want to scream."
+
+"So do I," said Kip.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+Mrs. Markham sat in her private parlor, comfortably sipping her tea.
+Whatever might be said of the children's bill of fare, there was nothing
+meager about hers. No Chinaman's tongue was ever a safer tea detector
+than Markham's. No spurious mixture found a place in her tea-caddy; no
+water-pot was allowed to wash away its strength when made. The warm
+biscuit were as fragrant as the tea, and the butter might have won the
+prize at any agricultural fair. The room too, in which the tea-table was
+spread, had every appliance for the consolation of a single woman.
+Comfortably plump sofas and chairs, a looking-glass, selected for its
+peculiar faculty of adding breadth to an unnecessarily elongated face; a
+handsome, well-filled bottle of Cologne, another of Bay Water, and a
+work-box, with all sorts of industrial appendages, the gift of Mr.
+Balch. Then, for the look of the thing, a few books, newspapers,
+pamphlets, etc., for Mrs. Markham never read; partly because she had a
+surfeit in the book line in the school-room, but principally, because
+publishers and editors had a sad way of making their types so
+indistinct now-a-days; or in other words, Markham had a strong aversion
+to spectacles.
+
+There were no pictures or flowers in the room, because the former
+"marked the walls," and the latter "kept dropping their leaves on the
+carpet;" but there were two smart, gilt candelabras on the mantle, and a
+small clock between them, and an hour glass, and a stuffed owl. There
+was also a light kid glove, which always lay there, because it served
+for a text for Mr. Balch's little complimentary speeches about hands and
+hearts, and pairs, etc. Mrs. Markham was always _going_ to put it away,
+but somehow she never did so.
+
+"Ah, Timmins, is that you? come in. Is Tibbs any better," asked Mrs.
+Markham, comfortably sipping her tea.
+
+"No ma'm, she's awful; her wrists look as if they would snap in two; and
+her neck looks so slender; and her head so big. Oh, she's a sight,
+ma'am."
+
+"Pooh, you are always sight-seeing, Timmins; the child always had a
+miserable constitution. As the committee say, it is not much use to try
+to rear these children; the seeds of disease are in them."
+
+"Well, Tibbs is going fast enough, that's certain. She's mostly
+stupid-like, but now and then she smiles and reaches out her arms, for
+all the world as if she saw the angels, and wanted them to come and take
+her."
+
+"What nonsense, Timmins. Hand me that toast. Just as if a pauper-child
+would have such notions."
+
+"Well, ma'am, if you only would stay long enough by the child, you'd
+see it; it is awful to watch with her all alone."
+
+"Afraid of a sick child," said Mrs. Markham, pouring out another cup of
+hyson.
+
+"No, not the child exactly--Tibbs is a good little thing; but the
+sperrets, about the room. I do believe," said Timmins, solemnly, "that
+sperrets are all round these childern. You don't see things as I do,
+Mrs. Markham."
+
+"I hope I don't," answered that lady, laughing, as she pushed back her
+empty cup. "A pretty matron I should make, filled with such fanciful
+whims; and a great while the committee would keep me."
+
+"Perhaps so," answered Timmins. "Sometimes I think--"
+
+"What?" asked Markham.
+
+"And then again I don't know," said the perplexed Timmins; "but I must
+run back to Tibbs--if you only _would_ look in on her, Mrs. Markham,"
+said Timmins beseechingly, as she closed the door.
+
+
+While the above conversation was passing, the film gathered slowly over
+little Tibbs's eyes; the feet and hands grew colder--colder; drops of
+moisture gathered on the marble temples; the lips moved, but no sound
+came; a convulsive spasm shook the slight form, and little Tibbs was
+dead! None stood by to hold the feeble hand, or wipe the gathering
+death-damp from the pale lips and brow. No warm breath was proof to the
+dimmed eye and dulled ear of Love's dear presence.
+
+Tibbs died _alone_.
+
+And yet not alone, for He who loveth little children, folded her to His
+bosom.
+
+
+"It is quite time she took her drops," said Timmins, re-entering the
+room; and holding the phial up to the light, and placing a spoon under
+its mouth, she commenced counting, "One--two--three--four--here Tibbie.
+
+"What!"
+
+The horror-struck Timmins darted through the door, and back to Mrs.
+Markham.
+
+"Oh, ma'am--oh, ma'am--she's gone--all alone, too--oh, Mrs. Markham--"
+
+"Who's gone? what are you talking about, Timmons?"
+
+"Tibbs, ma'am--Tibbs--while I was down here talking to you--and all
+alone, too--oh dear--oh dear--"
+
+"Hold your tongue, Timmins; as if _your_ being there would have done any
+good?"
+
+"Don't you think so, ma'am?" asked the relieved Timmins.
+
+"No, of course not; the child's time had come--it is all well enough;
+you couldn't have helped it. Call Watkins, and tell her to go lay her
+out. I will be up when I have taken my nap. You stay there till Watkins
+has done, and then lock the door and take the key. What o'clock is it?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know," said Timmins. "Are you _sure_ it was just as well
+for Tibbs to die alone? I hope _I_ shan't die alone. Should _you_ like
+to die alone, Mrs. Markham?"
+
+"That has nothing to do with it," answered Mrs. Markham, angrily; "go
+along, Timmins, and don't make a fool of yourself."
+
+
+"Poor thing! poor thing!" exclaimed Watkins, as she untied little
+Tibbs's night-dress to wash her thin limbs, "_her_ sufferings are over.
+I tell you, Timmins, there'll be a long reckoning for this some day. I
+had rather be Tibbs here than Mrs. Markham. She isn't a sparrow's
+weight," said Watkins, lifting the child. "Was she sensible when she
+died, Timmins?"
+
+"Don't ask me--don't ask me. Oh, Watkins, _could_ I help it? I ran down
+to speak to Mrs. Markham, and--and--"
+
+"She didn't die alone?" asked the horror-struck Watkins, laying the
+corpse back upon the pillow.
+
+Timmins nodded her head, and sat rocking her figure to and fro.
+
+"Now, don't say a word--don't say a word," said Timmins, "I know I
+shall be punished for it; but in deed I didn't mean no harm. I can't
+stay much longer in this house, Watkins."
+
+Watkins made no reply, except by slow shakes of the head, as she drew on
+the little charity night-dress which was to answer for a shroud,
+smoothed the soft silken hair, and folded the small hands over the weary
+little heart.
+
+"Do you know a prayer, Watkins?" asked Timmins, looking at the dead
+child.
+
+"I know 'Our Father,'" replied Watkins, smoothing a fold in the shroud.
+
+"Say it," said Timmins, reverently; "it won't do _her_ no good, but it
+will _me_."
+
+"Our Father----"
+
+"Got all through?" asked Mrs. Markham, throwing open the door; "that's
+all right. Now spread the sheet over her face--open the window--lock the
+door, and give me the key."
+
+"Won't you come in, ma'am, and look at the child?" asked Watkins,
+stepping one side.
+
+"No, it don't signify; you washed her and all that, I suppose. Come out,
+Timmins; and you, Watkins, run for the undertaker--the sooner the child
+is taken away the better; it is not healthy to have a corpse in the
+house," and Mrs. Markham applied her smelling-salts to her nose.
+
+Watkins tied on her bonnet, and went sorrowfully down street for the
+undertaker.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+Mr. Pall prided himself on the reverent manner in which he performed his
+necessary funereal duties. He always dressed in black, and sat,
+handkerchief in hand, in the middle of his coffin ware-room, in a
+prepared state of mind to receive customers.
+
+He had every variety of coffin--from plain pine-wood up to the most
+polished mahogany and rosewood. His latest invention was "the casket,"
+daintily lined throughout with white satin, and the lid so constructed
+as to expose the whole person instead of the face only, as in more
+common coffins. This was what Mr. Pall called "a dress coffin," and was
+perfectly consistent with any variety of adornment in the shroud that
+the fancy of grief-stricken affection might suggest.
+
+When Watkins entered, Mr. Pall sat complacently in his chair amid his
+piles of coffins, with his hands solemnly folded over his handkerchief.
+He would have scorned to disgrace his profession, like many others of
+the craft, by reading the newspapers in his sanctum, smoking a cigar, or
+in any other way conveying the idea that he had lost sight of his
+mournful calling. We are not bound, therefore, to believe, on the
+authority of a prying policeman's limited vision through the key-hole,
+that when the shop was closed, Mr. Pall nightly drew from an
+old-fashioned coffin a bottle of whisky and a box of cigars, wherewith
+to console himself for the day's solemn and self-inflicted penance.
+
+"Good morning, m-a-a-m," drawled the dolorous Pall.
+
+
+     "'Hark! from the tombs a doleful sound,
+     Mine ears attend the cry.'
+
+
+"Want my mournful services, ma'am? I shall take a melancholy pleasure in
+showing you my coffins. Age of the corpse, ma'am?" and Pall used his
+white handkerchief.
+
+"Six years."
+
+
+     "'Death strikes down all,
+     Both great and small--'
+
+
+"Place of residence, ma'am?
+
+"Orphan Asylum, eh?" repeated the disappointed Pall, as his vision of
+the costly casket pattern faded away; "pine coffin, of course--no satin
+lining or silver nails--no carriages--night burial, Potters' Field, etc.
+
+
+     "'Lie in the dust,
+     We all must.'
+
+
+"Tell the afflicted matron of the Orphan Asylum that I will send up
+directly and take the deceased child's measure."
+
+And Pall flourished his white handkerchief as long as was consistent
+with the demise of a charity orphan, and the small sum invested in the
+pine coffin.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+It was the day for the committee to make their stated visit of
+examination at the Asylum. Timmins had swept the school-room floor very
+carefully, scoured off the black-board, dusted the benches, and placed a
+bunch of flowers on Mrs. Markham's desk, just as that lady entered on
+her tour of inspection.
+
+"How on earth came that green trash on my desk?" asked the offended
+matron.
+
+"I did it, ma'am, to make it look kind o' cheerful like;" said Timmins,
+a little abashed at exhibiting such a weakness in such an august
+presence. "It looks so dry and hard here, and children, poor things, is
+fond of flowers," and Timmins sighed as she thought of poor Tibbie.
+
+"Are you in your dotage, Timmins, to bring such a frivolous thing as a
+bouquet into a school-room? who ever heard of such a folly?" and Mrs.
+Markham sent it spinning through the nearest window.
+
+Timmins sighed again, and rubbed off one of the benches with a corner of
+her apron; then, looking up as if a bright thought had struck her, she
+said:
+
+"They say, ma'am, that this world is nothing but a school for us, and
+yet God has strewn flowers all over it. He must have done it for
+something."
+
+"Pshaw!" exclaimed Mrs. Markham, in extreme disgust; "go, bring in the
+chairs for the committee, and then ring the bell for the children."
+
+
+Clang--clang--clang went the bell, and in wound the mournful procession;
+all habited alike, all with the same listless air, flabby-looking limbs,
+and leaden complexions.
+
+"Seems to me you look uncommonly stupid," remarked the matron, by way of
+encouragement to the children; "see if you can't throw a little
+animation into your faces."
+
+The poor little victims stared open their eyes, and made an ineffectual
+attempt at a smile, more painful to witness than their former
+listlessness.
+
+"Stand up straighter, can't you?"
+
+The little crooked spines made a feeble and ineffectual attempt to
+remedy the irreparable injury Mrs. Markham had inflicted upon them.
+
+"Now, let every toe touch that crack on the floor.
+
+"Now, cross your arms behind, every one of you.
+
+"There--don't you stir a hair till the committee come in; it is now
+eleven; they will be here at quarter before twelve; now mind what I tell
+you about throwing a little animation into your faces;" and Mrs.
+Markham having laid the ferule in sight, seated herself in an easy
+position in a very comfortable chair, put a checkerberry lozenge in her
+mouth, and prepared herself to punish the first child whose overstrained
+limbs relaxed from weariness.
+
+Every one knows how much more easily one can walk a mile than stand
+perfectly still, in the same position, for fifteen minutes; and no one
+who has ever seen the martyrdom which restless childhood is compelled to
+undergo, in this respect (even in our best schools), sometimes in the
+scorching vicinity of a red-hot stove, sometimes in a shivering draught,
+for an hour or more, while the teacher, comfortably seated, leisurely
+experiments upon their intellects, can help wishing that he might have
+it in his power to subject thoughtless teachers, and as thoughtlessly
+criminal parents, to the same daily and intolerable torture; can help
+wishing that, having placed _them_ in such positions, he could have
+liberty to punish them for the non-committal of tasks which their aching
+heads and limbs have rendered impossible.
+
+Let every parent satisfy himself or herself, by _personal inspection_,
+with regard to these things; not on farce exhibition days, but by
+unexpected calls, at such times as he or she may see fit; and let any
+teacher who would debar a parent from such an inalienable right, be
+deposed from his station.
+
+Many a grave now filled with moldering dust would have been tenantless,
+had parents, not trusting to show-circulars, satisfied themselves on
+these points, instead of merely paying the term-bills when due.
+
+"Rose!"
+
+The little drooping head righted itself; the child had fallen asleep; a
+thump on the head with the ever-ready ferule brought on a head-ache,
+which rendered a repetition of the offense improbable.
+
+"Quarter before twelve."
+
+Markham slides her little gold watch back under her basque. The
+committee have arrived. Now she smiles all over. Her hypocritical voice
+is pitched to the company key. She glides round the benches, and calls
+to "Rose, dear," and "Mabel, dear," and "Anna, dear," patting them on
+their shrinking shoulders with her serpent touch.
+
+Now one of the committee makes a prayer, and thanks God that these dear
+children, rescued from sinks of pollution and crime, and from depraved
+parents, have here found a Christian home, under the guardianship of a
+mother in Israel; he prays that God will reward her abundantly for her
+self-sacrificing devotion to them, and that the children may feel
+unfeignedly grateful for all their blessings.
+
+The committee then seat themselves, and Markham asks a list of
+questions, cut and dried beforehand, to which parrot tongues respond.
+The children then wail out a hymn, composed by a friend of Mrs.
+Markham's in which they are made to express to that lady their
+affectionate gratitude, as well as to the philanthropic and
+discriminating committee present, who blow their noses sympathetically,
+and wipe their spectacles. The children are then dismissed to their
+bread and molasses, and so the farce ends.
+
+(Pity, that the munificent bequests of great and good men to such
+institutions as these, should, for want of a little investigation,
+sometimes be so sadly misappropriated.)
+
+The next day the readers of _The Morning Budget_ are informed, with a
+pretty show of statistics, of the flourishing condition of that humane
+institution the CHARITY ORPHAN ASYLUM, and of the spiritual and temporal
+well-to-do-a-tiveness of its inmates, under the judicious supervision of
+its energetic, self-denying, and Christian matron, Mrs. Clara Markham;
+who forthwith orders a dozen copies of _The Morning Budget_, which she
+distributes among her friends, reserving one for a fixture on her parlor
+table, to edify chance visitors.
+
+Meanwhile little Tibbie sleeps peacefully in her pine coffin in the
+Potters Field, and Rose sits up in her little cot, while all around her
+sleep, and stretches out her imploring arms to the peaceful stars that
+shimmer through the window.
+
+On the evening of examination-day, Mr. Balch, as usual, takes his leave
+with the rest of the committee, but after seeing them safely round the
+corner, returns as usual, to tea with Markham in the cosy little
+parlor; and Markham smiles on him as only an unappropriated elderly
+female knows how; and Mr. Balch, what with the smile and the Hyson,
+considers Webster and Worcester united too meager to express his
+feelings, and falls back upon Markham's hand, upon which he makes an
+unmistakable record of his bachelor emotions.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+"Mercy on us! you don't expect me to sleep in that room, do you?" asked
+Timmins of Mrs. Markham, as they stopped before the door of the room
+where little Tibbie died.
+
+"I wouldn't do it for a purse of gold. I know I should see her ghost;
+oh, it would be awful;" and Timmins put her hands before her face, as if
+the ghost were looming up in the depths of the dimly-lighted entry.
+
+"Nonsense!" said Mrs. Markham; "how superstitious you are! I am going to
+sleep there with you."
+
+"Are you? Well, that alters the case," and Mrs. Markham led the way,
+while Timmins followed her with distended eyes.
+
+"I really can't help thinking she _will_ come back," said Timmins, as
+Mrs. Markham extinguished the light and crept into bed. "I can't seem to
+get over it, about her dying all alone. How very thin she was. Did you
+ever think she was unhappy, Mrs. Markham?"
+
+"I don't think any thing about it, Timmins. I go to bed for the purpose
+of sleeping;" and turning her back upon Timmins, she buried her frilled
+night-cap in the pillow.
+
+"Don't cuddie up so close, Timmins," said Mrs. Markham, about ten
+minutes after; "you make me insufferably hot."
+
+"Lor', ma'am, I can't help it; I can't see nothing, and you won't speak
+to me, and how am I going to know that you are there?"
+
+"Guess at it," said Markham, giving another hitch away toward the wall,
+and soon her sonorous breathing announced her departure to the land of
+dreams.
+
+"Goodness alive! if she ain't asleep," said Timmins; "what if Tibbie
+_should_ come back? Oh dear! I am sure I am sorry enough I left her so.
+I'll put my head under the bed-clothes. No I won't--because if it _is_
+coming, Mrs. Markham must wake up, for I shan't be good for nothing; I
+never spoke to a ghost in my life."
+
+"What's--that?" she whispered hoarsely, as, by the dim light of the
+street-lamp on the window-glass, she saw the door open slowly, and a
+little figure dressed in white, glide in. "Oh Lor'--oh Mrs.
+Markham--(griping that lady by the arm)--it's come!
+Hist--there--there--oh--oh, it's coming _here_," whispered Timmins, as
+Mrs. Markham, now thoroughly roused, trembled as violently as Timmins,
+and both made a shuddering plunge under the bed-clothes.
+
+"_You_ look out, Timmins?"
+
+"No--_you_, Mrs. Markham!" and both night-caps were thrust carefully
+from under the sides of the raised sheets.
+
+There was the little figure--it was no illusion--flitting, gliding about
+the room; now here, now more distant, and now, with its pale, wan face
+and outstretched arms, it approaches the bed. Timmins and Markham both
+jump shrieking from it through the door, and fall senseless upon the
+entry floor.
+
+The wicked flee when none pursueth.
+
+Poor innocent little Rose! Waked suddenly from her somnambulistic sleep,
+she stands gazing about her, the unconscious avenger of little Tibbie's
+sufferings, and her own.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+Years pass on. Some of the children have been bound out, others Death
+has more mercifully indentured into his own service. Rose has grown
+tall. Her step is slow and feeble, and her form has lost its roundness;
+but her eyes are beautiful from the light within, and her wee mouth has
+a grieved look which makes the beholder long to clasp her to his heart.
+Even the ugly charity-school bonnet which Markham has just tied under
+her chin, can not make her look ugly.
+
+Dolly stands waiting to take her to Difftown; she has no bundle to pack
+up, she has no regrets at leaving the Asylum, she has no hope for the
+future, for she has looked into Dolly's face with her clear calm eyes,
+and read her doom.
+
+"Rose, come and kiss me, darling, before you go," said Markham. "I
+always feel _so_ melancholy," she added, in an aside, to Dolly, "at
+parting with these dear children. It is quite impossible not to feel a
+motherly interest and solicitude after being with them so long. Good-by,
+dear Rose--don't _quite_ forget me."
+
+Rose thought there was little fear of that, as she followed Dolly out
+of the house.
+
+"A very nice woman, that Mrs. Markham," said Dolly, as they walked to
+the stable where she had left her horse and chaise, "a very nice woman."
+
+Rose made no reply.
+
+"I dare say though, you don't like her at all, do you?"
+
+"No," said Rose.
+
+"Why not, I should like to know?" asked Dolly, tartly.
+
+"I had rather not tell, if you please," answered Rose.
+
+The civil manner in which the refusal was couched irritated Dolly.
+
+"You are as like your mother as two peas," said she, angrily; "you look
+just like her, and speak just like her."
+
+"Do you think so?" asked the child, her whole face brightening.
+
+"I don't know why you should look so pleased about it. Maria was a
+thriftless creature. No learning but book learning."
+
+"Please don't speak so of my mamma," and the tears stood in Rose's eyes.
+
+"I shall speak just as I please of her," said Dolly; "she was my sister
+before she was your mother, by a long spell, and I don't know why I am
+bound to love her for that reason, when there was nothing to love in
+her."
+
+"But there was," said Rose. "She was sweet, and gentle, and loving, and
+oh, Aunt Dolly, she was every thing to _me_," and the hot tears trickled
+through Rose's slender fingers.
+
+"Fiddle-faddle! Now ain't you ashamed, you great baby, to be bawling
+here in the street, as if I was some terrible dragon making off with
+you? That's all the thanks I get for taking you out of the church-yard
+and putting you in that nice Orphan Asylum."
+
+"If you had only left me in the church-yard," sobbed Rose.
+
+Dolly was quite too angry to reply. The very bows on her bonnet trembled
+with rage.
+
+After a pause, she turned round, and laying her hands on Rose's
+trembling shoulders, said,
+
+"Now, look here, Rose Clark, now just take a fair and square look at me.
+I don't look much like your _gentle_ mother, as you call her, do I?"
+
+"No, no," sobbed Rose, with a fresh burst of tears.
+
+"Well, I ain't like her in any thing. I ain't a-going to pet you, nor
+make of you, nor spoil you, as she did. You are bound out to me, and you
+have got your bread and butter to earn. I have no taste for cry-babies
+nor idlers, and if you don't work and mind too, the committee of the
+Orphan Asylum shall know the reason why; you may find worse quarters
+than my milliner's shop," and Dolly stopped, not that the subject, but
+her breath, was exhausted.
+
+The morning was calm and serene, and the road through which Dolly's old
+horse plodded, very lovely. There had been heavy rains for days before,
+and now, as they left the city behind them, the sun shone out, and
+bright drops hung glistening on the trees, shrubs, and grass blades, and
+the spicy pines and way-side flowers sent forth their sweetest odors.
+The little birds, too, came out, pluming their wings for a sunny flight
+far--far into the clear blue ether, whither Rose longed to follow them.
+
+_Such_ a burst of song as they went!
+
+It thrilled through every fibre of the child's frame.
+
+Rose glanced at the frowning face beside her. There was no appreciation
+there. No, Dolly was thinking how much work she could get out of the
+feeble child by her side, the helpless orphan in whose veins her own
+blood flowed.
+
+On they went--the old horse, and Dolly, and Rose.
+
+Wreaths of mist rolled up from the valleys, crept along the hill-sides,
+and were eagerly drunk up by the sun's warm breath, leaving the earth
+fresh and fair as when it first came from the forming hand of God.
+
+Cottages they passed, nestled among the trees, on whose happy thresholds
+children clambered on a mother's knee.
+
+Churches too, whose glistening spires pointed to that Heaven where Rose
+longed to be at rest; and far, far away, the silver lake gleamed in the
+bright sunlight; oh, how gladly, on its peaceful bosom, would the child
+have floated away!
+
+"For mercy's sake, what are you thinking about," asked Dolly, "with that
+curious look in your eyes, and the color coming and going in your face
+that way?"
+
+"I was thinking," said the child, her eyes still fixed on the silver
+lake, "how beautiful God made the earth, and how sad it was there should
+be--"
+
+"_What_ now?" asked Dolly tartly.
+
+"Any sorrow in it," said Rose.
+
+"The earth is well enough, I s'pose," said Dolly. "I never looked at it
+much, and as to the rest of your remark, I hope you will remember it
+when you get home, and not plague my life out, when I want you to work.
+Let's see; you will have the shop to sweep out, the window shutters to
+take down and put up, night and morning, errands to run, sewing,
+washing, ironing, and scrubbing to do, dishes to wash, beside a few
+other little things.
+
+"Of course you will have your own clothes to make and to mend, the
+sheets and towels to hem, and be learning meanwhile to wait on customers
+in the shop; I shan't trust you with the money-drawer till I know
+whether you are honest."
+
+Rose's face became crimson, and she involuntarily moved further away
+from Dolly.
+
+"None of that now," said that lady, "such airs won't go down with me.
+It is a pity if I can't speak to my own sister's child."
+
+Rose thought this was the only light in which she was likely to view the
+relationship, but she was too wise to reply.
+
+"There's no knowing," said Dolly, "what you may have learned among those
+children at the Asylum."
+
+"You put me there, Aunt Dolly," said Rose.
+
+"Of course I put you there, but did I tell you to learn all the bad
+things you saw?"
+
+"You didn't tell me not; but I never would take what belonged to
+another."
+
+"Shut up now--you are just like your mother ex--actly;" and Dolly
+stopped here, considering that she could go no further in the way of
+invective.
+
+And now they were nearing the village. Rose thought it looked much
+prettier at a distance than near.
+
+There was an ugly, dirty tavern in the main street, on whose gaudy
+sign-board was painted "The Rising Sun;" and on whose piazza were
+congregated knots of men, smoking, chewing, swearing, and bargaining, by
+turns; for it was cattle-fair Monday, and the whole population was
+astir.
+
+Herds of cattle; sheep, cows, calves, oxen, and pigs, divided off into
+little crowded pens, stood bleating and lowing in the blazing sun, half
+dead with thirst, while their owners were chaffering about prices.
+
+On the opposite side of the street were temporary booths, whose owners
+were making the most of the day by opening oysters, and uncorking
+bottles for the ravenous farmers; little boys stood by, greedily
+devouring the dregs of the glasses whenever they could dodge a boxed
+ear. A few sickly trees were planted here and there, at the sides of the
+road, which seemed to have dwindled away in disgust at their location.
+On a small patch of green, dignified by the name of the Park, an
+ill-assorted, heterogeneous company were drilling for 'lection,
+presenting arms, etc., in a manner that would have struck Napoleon dumb.
+
+Dolly's house was on the further side of "the Park," a two story wooden
+tenement, of a bright red color, planted on a sand bank close to the
+road side, unornamented with a single green thing, if we may except some
+gawky boys who were eyeing the tin soldiers and peppermint candy in the
+milliner's window, and who had been attentively listening to the
+swearing cattle-dealers and picking up stray lobster-claws which good
+fortune had thrown in their way.
+
+"That _her_?" whispered Daffodil (Dolly's factotum), pointing to Rose,
+as she assisted Dolly to alight. Dolly nodded.
+
+"Why--she'd be a real beauty if she was only a little fatter, and
+didn't stoop, and her eyes weren't so big, and she wasn't so pale."
+
+"I don't see any beauty," mumbled Dolly, "she looks exactly like her
+mother."
+
+"O no--of course she isn't a beauty," said Daffy, retracting her
+involuntary mistake, "she don't favor you in the least Dolly; I said she
+would be pretty if--"
+
+"Never mind your ifs now, I'm as hungry as a catamount, give me
+something to eat, and then I'll talk; some of that cold ham, and warm
+over some tea; goodness, how faint I am, that young one has tired me all
+out argufying--she's just like her mother--exactly."
+
+"Shall I set a plate for her too?" asked Daffy.
+
+"Of course not, till I get through; children always cram all before
+them, there wouldn't be a mortal thing left for me--let her wait till I
+have done. Rose--here! take off your bonnet, sit down and unpack those
+boxes, don't break the strings now, untie the knots carefully, the
+strings may do to use again, and don't litter up the shop floor, and
+don't----Lord-a-mercy, Daffy, if she ain't undone the wrong boxes, I
+knew she would."
+
+"T-h-o-s-e," she thundered in Rose's ear, pulling her along to the right
+pile, and bending her over till her nose touched the boxes; "now see if
+you can see them, and don't make another mistake _short_ of ten
+minutes," and Dolly threw off her bonnet and sat down to her tea.
+
+Rose stooped down as she was bid, and commenced her task, but the
+excitement she had undergone, so different from the monotonous life she
+had led, the heat of the day, and her insufficient breakfast before
+starting, brought on a sudden vertigo, and as she stooped to execute her
+task, she fell forward upon the floor.
+
+"Sick now, the very first day," exclaimed Dolly, turning to Daffy, "now
+ain't that enough to provoke any body? Her mother used to be just so,
+always fainting away at every thing; she's got to get cured of that
+trick; get up Rose!" and Dolly shook her roughly by the arm.
+
+"I really think she can't," said Daffy, looking at her white lips and
+relaxed limbs.
+
+Dolly seized a pitcher of water near, and dashed it with rather more
+force than was necessary in the child's face.
+
+"That's warm water," said Daffy.
+
+"How did I know that?" muttered Dolly, "bring some cold then;" and Dolly
+repeated the application, at a different temperature.
+
+Rose shivered slightly, but did not open her eyes.
+
+"She intends taking her own time to come to," said Dolly, "and I have
+something else to do, beside stand by to wait for it."
+
+"But it won't do for her to lie here," said Daffy. "Suppose Mrs. John
+Meigs should come in after that new bonnet of hern? It don't look well."
+
+Dolly appreciated that argument, and Daffy had permission to carry her
+out of sight, into a back sitting-room, on the same floor.
+
+"She _does it_ remarkable, if she _is_ making believe," soliloquized
+Daffy, as she laid Rose on the bed; "and she _is_ pretty, too, I can say
+it now Dolly isn't round, pretty as a waxen doll, and not much heavier;
+she is not fit for hard work anyhow, with those bit-fingers. I shouldn't
+wonder if Dolly is too hard on the child, but I daren't say so. What can
+that little scar be on her left temple?" and Daffy lifted the curls to
+look at that indelible proof of Mrs. Markham's affection on Rose's
+initiation day.
+
+"Well, she's a pretty cretur!" said Daffodil again, as she took one more
+glance at her from the half open door. "I couldn't find it in my heart
+to speak cross to the poor motherless thing; but it won't do for me to
+stay up here."
+
+"Shall I make a cup of tea for Rose, agin she wakes up?" asked Daffy.
+
+"Sick folks ought not to eat and drink," said Dolly, sarcastically; "no,
+of course not; clear away the table, and put things to rights here. Our
+Maria was always acting just so; if she didn't have her breakfast ready
+to put in her mouth the minute she got out of bed, she'd up and faint
+away; she'd faint if it was hot, and she'd faint if it was cold. She'd
+faint if she was glad, and faint if she was sorry. She was always
+a-fainting; I never fainted in my life."
+
+"Sisters are different, you know;" said Daffy, polishing a tea-cup with
+a towel.
+
+"I believe you," said Dolly. "It is lucky they are; I am glad I ain't
+such a miserable stick; but Rose has got to get out of that," added she.
+
+"You don't really believe she, nor Maria, as you call her, could help
+it, do you?" asked Daffy.
+
+"Help a fiddlestick," said Dolly, jerking down her pea-green paper
+window-curtain; "ridikilis!"
+
+Daffy knew that word was Dolly's ultimatum, and pursued the subject no
+further.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+"Aunt Dolly," said Rose, timidly, about a month after the events above
+related, "Aunt Dolly"--and here Rose stopped short.
+
+"Out with it," said Dolly, "if you've got any thing to say. You make me
+as nervous as an eel, twisting that apron-string, and Aunt Dolly-ing
+such an eternity; if you have got any thing to say, out with it."
+
+"May I go to the evening school?" asked Rose, "it is a free school."
+
+"Well--you are not free to go, if it is; you know how to read and write,
+and I have taught you how to make change pretty well, that is all you
+need for _my_ purposes."
+
+"But I should like to learn other things, Aunt Dolly."
+
+"What other things, I'd like to know? that's your mother all over. She
+never was content without a book at the end of her nose. She couldn't
+have earned her living to have saved her life, if she hadn't got
+married."
+
+"It was partly to earn my living I wanted to learn, Aunt Dolly; perhaps
+I could be a teacher."
+
+"Too grand to trim caps and bonnets like your Aunt Dolly, I suppose,"
+added she, sneeringly; "it is quite beneath a charity orphan, I
+suppose."
+
+"No," said Rose; "but I should like to teach, better."
+
+"Well, you won't do it; never--no time. So there's all there is to that:
+now take that ribbon and make the bows to old Mrs. Griffin's cap--the
+idea of wanting to be a school-teacher when you have it at your fingers'
+ends to twist up a ribbon so easy--it is ridikilis. Did Miss Snow come
+here last night, after I went out, for her bonnet?"
+
+"Yes," answered Rose.
+
+"Did you tell her that it was all finished but the cap frill?" asked
+Dolly.
+
+"No; because I knew that it was not yet begun, and I could not tell
+a--a--"
+
+"Lie! I suppose," screamed Dolly, putting her face very close to Rose's,
+as if to defy her to say the obnoxious word; "is that it."
+
+"Yes," said Rose, courageously.
+
+"Good girl--good girl" said Dolly; "shall have a medal, so it shall;"
+and cutting a large oval out of a bit of pasteboard, and passing a twine
+string through it, she hung it round her neck--"Good little
+Rosy-Posy--just like its conscientious mamma."
+
+"I wish I were half as good as my mamma," said Rose, with a trembling
+voice.
+
+"I suppose you think that Aunt Dolly is a great sinner!" said that lady.
+
+"We are all great sinners, are we not?" answered Rose.
+
+"All but little Rosy Posy;" sneered Dolly, "_she_ is perfect, only needs
+a pair of wings to take her straight up to heaven."
+
+"Many a true word is spoken in jest," muttered Daffy, as she waxed the
+end of a bit of sewing silk, behind the counter.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+Mr. Clifton, the minister of Difftown village was one of those few
+clergymen who possessed of decided talent was yet content to labor in an
+humble sphere. Many of his brother clergymen had left their country
+parishes to become stars in cities. Some, unspoiled by the breath of
+applause, had laid their honors meekly at the Saviour's feet; others,
+inflated with pride and self-conceit, preached soft things to those who
+built them palaces of ease, and healed the hurt of the daughter of God's
+people slightly.
+
+Mr. Clifton feared the test. Appreciation is as dear to the sanctified
+as the unsanctified heart. It _were_ pleasant to see the heart's dear
+ones, fitted by nature to enjoy the refinements of life, in full
+possession of them; it were pleasant to have daily intercourse with the
+large circle of the gifted who congregate in cities--but what shall it
+profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul? Mr.
+Clifton felt that with his ardent social and impulsive temperament, his
+quiet village parish, with its home endearments, was most favorable to
+his growth in grace; and so, turning a deaf ear to the Syren voices
+which would have called him away, he cheerfully broke the bread of life,
+year after year, to his humble flock.
+
+It was Sabbath evening--Mr. Clifton lay upon the sofa, suffering under
+one of those torturing head-aches which excessive mental excitement was
+sure to bring on. He loved his calling--it was not mere lip service for
+him to expound the word of God, and teach its sacred truths--the
+humblest among his people knew this; the tremor in his voice, the
+moisture in his eye, told their own eloquent tale. There must have been
+something to enchain those whose active limbs, never still during the
+other days of the week from dawn till dark, could sit on those narrow
+seats and never droop with uneasiness or sleep.
+
+But the physical reaction was too apt to come to the delicately strung
+frame; and with closed eyelids, Mr. Clifton lay upon the sofa in the
+parlor of the little parsonage, while his wife bent over him, bathing
+his aching temples.
+
+The parsonage parlor! how difficult to furnish it to suit every carping
+eye, for there were those, even in Mr. Clifton's parish, as in all
+others, whom his blameless life and welling sympathies could neither
+appease nor conciliate.
+
+The parsonage parlor! The father of Mary Clifton would gladly have
+filled it with luxuries for his only daughter; but Mary shook her little
+head, and planted her little foot firmly on the plain Kidderminster
+carpet, and sat down contentedly in the bamboo rocking-chair, and hung
+the pretty pictures her girlhood had cherished in a spare room
+up-stairs, and looked round upon the bare walls of the parlor without a
+murmur of dissatisfaction.
+
+Flowers she still clung to. The parsonage parlor was never without them.
+They were on the breakfast and tea-table--sometimes but a single
+blossom, for Mary had little time to cull them--sometimes only a green
+branch or sprig, whose wondrously beautiful leaves, shaded with the
+nicest skill, had given her a thrill of pleasure--sometimes a bunch of
+simple clover--sometimes a tuft of moss, or a waving corn tassel, mixed
+with spears of oats and grass-blades.
+
+Mr. Clifton loved Mary all the better that she loved these things; and
+when she came to him with her blue eye beaming, and her cheek flushed
+with pleasure, and held up to him some tiny floral treasure, whose
+beauty no eye less spiritual than her's could have discerned, and
+pointed out its delicate tinting, he thanked God her heart could be made
+happy by such pure, innocent, and simple pleasures.
+
+But it was at such times as I have alluded to, when Mr. Clifton sank
+under his pastoral duties, that Mary's love shone forth the brightest.
+On the Sabbath eve of which we speak, his eyes were closed, but he heard
+the rustle of her dress and her light foot-fall on the carpet. He felt
+her fragrant breath upon his cheek, and the touch of her soft fingers
+charming the fever from his temples. Gradually it crept away, yielding
+to her magnetic touch, and the smile came back to her husband's lip, and
+the beam to his languid eye. And now the healing cup of tea was
+prepared, and the little stand with its tray set before him, and Mary
+herself sweetened it, more with the smile on her lip and the love-beam
+in her eye than with the big lump of sugar she dropped into it; and as
+her husband drained the cup and laid his head back again upon the
+cushions, he thanked God, as many a convalescent has done, for the
+untold wealth of love which sickness may draw forth.
+
+"Did you see that sweet child, George, in Dolly Smith's pew to-day?"
+asked Mary. "Her little face quite fascinated me. It was as sad as it
+was sweet. I fancied the child must have known sorrow; perhaps be
+motherless," and Mary kissed her own little blue-eyed baby. "You know,
+George, things sometimes come to me like a revelation. I am sure that
+child's heart is sore. When you read the hymn I saw the tears standing
+in her eyes, but then your voice is so musical, George, it might have
+been from excess of pleasure."
+
+"Foolish little wife," said her husband; "as if every body saw me
+through your eyes, and heard me with your partial ears."
+
+"Well, be that as it may," said Mary, "I want you to call at Dolly's
+and see that child; get her into my Sabbath-school class if you can, and
+if she has a sorrow, we will try to lighten it."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+Not the least difficult part of a clergyman's duty is his round of
+parochial calls. They must be rightly timed with regard to the domestic
+arrangements of each family. This he is supposed to know by a sort of
+intuition. They must not be too infrequent. He must remember the number
+of the inmates, and be sure to inquire after the new baby. He must stay
+no longer at Mrs. Wheeler's than he did at Mrs. Brown's. He must
+swallow, at any physical cost, whatever is set before him in the way of
+eating or drinking.
+
+Mr. Clifton was fully aware of all these parochial shoals, and, as far
+as mortal man could do it, steered clear of shipwreck; but "offenses
+will come," and Dolly was at the wash-tub, up to her elbows in soapsuds,
+when "the minister" was announced by the breathless Daffy, who was
+unaware that Monday is generally the day when all clergymen turn their
+backs upon the study and recruit their exhausted energies by locomotion.
+
+"Why, in the name of common sense, couldn't he have called Saturday?"
+asked Dolly, hastily, wiping the suds from her parboiled fingers; "then
+I had on my green silk, and should as lief have seen him as not; but
+ministers never have any consideration. Daffy--Daffy, here--where's my
+scalloped petticoat and under-sleeves? I dare say now that the
+sitting-room center-table is all awry. Daffy, is the Bible on the light
+stand? and the hymn-book too? Hand me my silk apron trimmed with the
+pink bows, and get my breast-pin quick, for goodness' sake; men prink
+forever themselves, but they never can wait a minute for a woman to
+dress; how do I look, Daffy? I do wish people had sense enough to stay
+away of a Monday morning. Don't let these calicos lay soaking in the
+tub, now, till I come back; give 'em a wring and hang 'em out."
+
+"Good morning, Mr. Clifton," said Dolly, dropping a bobbing courtesy;
+"it is quite a pleasure to see you."
+
+"Thank you, Miss Dolly," replied the minister, with a gravity truly
+commendable, when the fact is taken into consideration that he had heard
+every syllable of the foregoing conversation, through the thin
+partition; "thank you, Miss Dolly."
+
+"Yes, I was just saying to Daffy," resumed Dolly, "how long it was since
+you called here, and how welcome you were at any time, when you felt
+_inclined_ to come. I don't think it at all strange that you should
+prefer calling oftener at Lawyer Briggs's and Squire Beadle's, than at
+my poor place. I know it is hardly fit to ask a clergyman into."
+
+"Lawyer Briggs and Squire Beadle are my wife's relatives, you know, Miss
+Dolly."
+
+"Oh, I wasn't complaining, at all," said Dolly; "they are eddicated
+people, it isn't at all strange; how's your folks?"
+
+"Very well, I thank you; the baby is getting through his teeth bravely."
+
+"I saw Mrs. Clifton go into Mrs. Messenger's the other day," said Dolly.
+"I see she has her _favorites_ in the parish."
+
+"Mrs. Messenger's little boy was taken in a fit," said Mr. Clifton, "and
+they sent over in great haste for my wife."
+
+"Ah," said Dolly, "well, I didn't blame her, of course not; I wouldn't
+have you think so. Mrs. Messenger is considered very genteel here in the
+village; Mrs. Messenger and I are two very different persons."
+
+"I see you brought me a new parishioner last Sunday," said Mr. Clifton,
+glad to change the conversation.
+
+"Yes; she is a poor child whom I took out of pity to bring up; her
+mother is dead, and so I offered her a home."
+
+"That's right," said Mr. Clifton, who had his own views about Dolly's
+motives. "I hope she will attend the Sabbath-school; Mrs. Clifton, I
+know, would like her to be in her class."
+
+Dolly's countenance fell. "Well, I don't know about that, though I'm
+obleeged to Mrs. Clifton. I don't think Rose would be willing to go."
+
+"She might be shy at first," said the minister, "but my wife has quite a
+gift at drawing out children's hearts. I think little Rose would soon
+love her."
+
+"I don't think she will be able to go," said Dolly, coldly; "but I'll
+think of it."
+
+"Do," replied Mr. Clifton, "and perhaps you would allow her sometimes to
+run over and see the baby and the garden. Children are sociable little
+creatures, you know. Is she fond of flowers?"
+
+"I guess not," said Dolly. "I am sure I never could see any use in them,
+except to make artificial ones by, to trim bonnets."
+
+Mr. Clifton smiled, in spite of himself, at this professional view of
+the subject. "Well, the baby then," he added; "it is just beginning to
+be interesting. I think she would like the baby."
+
+"She don't seem to have much inclination to go about," answered Dolly,
+"and it is not best to put her up to it; home is the best place for
+children."
+
+Ay, _home_, thought Mr. Clifton, as Rose's sweet sad eyes and pale face
+passed before him.
+
+"Well, good morning, Miss Dolly; perhaps, after all, you will change
+your mind about the little girl."
+
+"Good morning, Mr. Clifton," and Dolly bobbed a succession of little
+courtesys, and avoided answering his last remark. "Good morning, Mr.
+Clifton; thank you even for a _short_ visit, but I don't complain. It is
+a poor place, after all, to invite a clergyman into."
+
+"I think I see Rose going to Sabbath-school," said Dolly, as she folded
+up her finery, put it away, rolled up her sleeves and went back to the
+wash-tub; "I think I see _her_ going off to Sunday-school and me doing
+up the work; visiting at the minister's house too; 'baby and flowers,'
+and all that: she'd be so set up in a fortnight that there would be no
+getting along with her: all sorts of notions put in her head, instead of
+thinking herself well off here as she is, with her head under shelter,
+ten to one she would imagine she was terribly abused. No--Rose don't
+make any acquaintances if I can help it, and as to Sunday-school,
+there's the Bible, she might as well study it in one place as another;
+there's something behind all this; I verily believe that child is going
+to bewitch folks, just as her mother did before her; the amount of it
+is, they took a fancy to her, Sunday, in meetin'; Rose is just like her
+mother exactly; _she_ always looked just so innocent, as if she didn't
+know that she was--(Dolly couldn't say _pretty_ even to herself, so she
+added--artful). No, that child shan't go any where, nor see any body,
+nor do any thing, but work for me;" and Dolly gave the towel she was
+wringing out, as vigorous a twist as if it had been Rose's neck.
+
+The kind-hearted clergyman and his wife made many after attempts to show
+Rose some little kindness, but Dolly was always sure to out-general
+them, and fearing at last that the situation of the child might be made
+still more irksome by their persistence, they reluctantly confined
+themselves to sympathetic glances, and nods, when they met her; and this
+was much to poor Rose, for Dolly's voice grew each day harsher and
+colder, and Rose's future, hour by hour, looked more dark and rayless.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+And now the minister and his gentle wife had their own sorrow to bear.
+
+_The baby was dead._
+
+There are those to whom that phrase conveys but little meaning; there
+are others whose every heart-string thrills to it. "The baby" may not be
+pretty to any, save those who gave it being. Its first smile, its first
+word, its first tottering step, are trifles all to the busy world
+without; but ah, not in the little home circle: not to _him_ who
+contending all day long with the jostling world of trade, sickened and
+disgusted with its trickeries and overreaching, selfishness, and
+duplicity, weary with the clamorous din of traffic, crosses at length
+his own peaceful threshhold, and sitting down by that little cradle,
+bends a brow seamed with care, over the little sleeper, with heaven's
+own smile upon its lip, heaven's own purity on its baby brow.
+
+Not to _her_; to whom its faintest smile were reward enough for mortal
+pangs and throes; its faintest wail of pain loud enough to drown the
+united call of hunger, thirst, and weariness.
+
+Not to _those_ who, folding it to their _united_ hearts, say--_Our
+baby_.
+
+Is _their_ love the less when disease lays its withering finger on the
+roses of its cheek and lip? Can they spare "the baby" even though other
+children cluster round the hearth? And when death's shadow falls, can
+they forget the night-watch nestling of that little velvet cheek? the
+imploring look of that fading, upturned eye? Can such chords be rudely
+snapped without a jarring discord? No, _let_ them weep; Jesus wept.
+
+Inexpressibly dreadful is the touch of careless fingers upon the loved
+dead; the careless robing and unrobing of limbs in life so dearly
+cherished, so delicately draped.
+
+Inexpressibly beautiful are the services weeping love jealously renders
+to the departed; bearing on its own shoulders to its last resting-place
+the coffin and the pall, lowering it carefully, reverently, as if the
+pulseless heart within would be pained by a stranger touch.
+
+It was Mary Clifton's own fingers which shrouded the baby; it was the
+father's own hands which placed it in the coffin, it was in their own
+arms by the light of the quiet stars, it was borne to its garden grave.
+
+"Ridikilis!" exclaimed Dolly, "as if nobody was good enough to touch
+that child; minister's folks, too, having sich stuck-up notions; as if
+the child knew who carried it, as if the sexton didn't understand his
+business, as if the whole village oughtn't to have seen 'em bury it, if
+they wanted to. Polly Smith was up in a tree, and saw the whole of it.
+She said she was determined to. She said they cried like every thing;
+now that just shows how much they believe what they preach about
+'heaven's being the best place;' if that is so, they'd naterally be glad
+the young one had gone there; pooh, it is all stuff--they don't believe
+it no more nor I do; any how, I shall make the most of this world, and
+then, if there's nothing better in t' other, I shall have at least
+gained something.
+
+"It was perfectly ridikilis, there not being a funeral time; I should
+have sold yards and yards of black ribbon, for the parish to wear; but
+minister's folks never think of any body but themselves. I've found that
+out."
+
+
+Mary Clifton sits at her nursery-window; the empty cradle is by her
+side, with its snowy pillow and coverlid, the baby's rattle lies on the
+mantle, and its little cloak and silken hood hang just in sight within
+the closet.
+
+That window was her favorite seat; there she used to toss the baby up
+and down, to catch the woodbine branches that clambered over the open
+window; _they_ still stirred with life--but oh, where was the little
+dimpled hand, so late outstretched in glee to reach them?
+
+Just one short week ago that day (before "the baby" was taken sick), oh,
+how well she remembered it, how bright it looked that morning, with its
+snowy frock and blue ribbons, she stood just in that spot with it; a
+pane of glass had lately been broken, and the cement in the new one was
+yet fresh; the baby pressed its tiny little finger on it, and left its
+impress. No wonder Mary sits there passing her own finger slowly over
+the indentation, while the tears chase each other down her face; oh, to
+how many maternal hearts have such memories been at once a sorrow and a
+solace?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+"Oh, Aunt Dolly!" said Rose, coming in with her face all a-glow, "will
+you please tell me is this my mother's thimble? I found it in the
+drawer, and _may_ I have it?" she asked, pressing it to her lips.
+
+"It don't take me long to answer questions," said Dolly; "it _is_ your
+mother's, and you may _not_ have it. You had no business to go ferreting
+round among my things."
+
+"You told me to go to the drawer, and get the thread," answered Rose,
+"and it lay right there, and I could not help seeing it. Won't you
+please let me have it? I shall be _so_ happy if you will."
+
+Poor child! This was the worst argument she could have used.
+
+"I will do any thing, Aunt Dolly, if you will," said she, poising the
+coveted treasure on her tiny finger. "I'll--I'll--"
+
+"Won't you ever say another word to me again about going to school, as
+long as you live?"
+
+Rose hesitated, and looked at the thimble. "I don't like to promise
+that, Aunt Dolly."
+
+"Then I don't like to give you the thimble," answered Dolly, snatching
+it from Rose's finger, and stuffing it into her own pocket. "Now go back
+to your work, miss."
+
+"I would have given it to her, had I been you," said the good-natured
+Daffy (adding the only argument which she knew would tell on Dolly); "I
+really believe the child would do twice the work with that thimble on
+her finger."
+
+"I didn't think of that," replied Dolly, "perhaps she would--Rose?"
+
+Rose came back with traces of tears upon her face.
+
+"Will you be a very, very good girl, and do every thing I tell you,
+always?"
+
+Rose could not answer for sobbing.
+
+"Give it to her," whispered the tortured Daffy, "you'll see how it will
+work."
+
+"Well, there's the thimble," said Dolly, throwing it at her.
+
+"Oh, Aunt Dolly," said Rose, "I thank you. I'll try; indeed I'll try."
+
+"Well, go along, and see that you keep your word. I haven't much faith
+in it, though."
+
+"I declare," said Dolly, leaning back in her chair, "our Maria was the
+beater for one thing; every body who ever saw her used to carry on about
+her just like that child; even the cats and dogs liked a kick from her,
+better than a petting from any body else, and as to her husband, he
+thought the model was broke (as that image man said) after his wife was
+made. I don't suppose fire could burn out the love of that young one for
+her mother, for all she was so little when Maria died. I am sure I have
+done my best, but the fact was, Maria had a way with her."
+
+Ah, selfish Dolly! Thy sister had a heart. It shone in her eyes,
+lingered in her smile, sweetened her voice. _Love_ was the open sesame
+by which she unlocked all hearts, and without which thy grasping fingers
+shall try in vain.
+
+"Aunt Dolly," said Rose, returning, "there is a boy in the shop who
+wants to know if you can make three mourning bonnets right away. Mrs.
+Sharp died this morning."
+
+"Oh! that's very nice. To be sure I can. Go tell him I will begin them
+this minute. Those hats, Daffy, must not cost less than eight dollars
+a-piece. It don't do for people in affliction to chaffer about prices
+and make bargains beforehand, that's one comfort; they must be made of
+the most expensive English crape, Daffy."
+
+"I thought the Sharps were not very well off," suggested Daffy.
+
+"That's nothing. They ought to pay a proper respect to the dead, if they
+ain't; beside, they have rich relations. I shall be sure to get it out
+of some of 'em, never fear. Hand the black crape, Daffy. I wonder what
+ailed Mrs. Sharp? She was out to meetin' last Sunday. I hope her husband
+will call to settle the bill. Daffy, don't it make you laugh to see what
+a fuss widowers make _trying_ to grieve for their wives? It is
+ridikilis! Mr. Sharp isn't a bad man to look at. How many children has
+he, Daffy?"
+
+"Ten," said Daffy.
+
+"Couldn't stand it," said Dolly. "Rose is enough of a pill for me. I
+shall certainly refuse him."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+
+"Good afternoon, Dolly," said one of her neighbors, coming into the back
+room, and tossing off her shawl, which served the double purpose of
+cloak and bonnet. "Who _is_ that pretty girl you have there in the
+shop?"
+
+"Who can she mean?" asked Dolly of Daffy, in affected surprise.
+
+"Why," said Miss Tufts, anticipating Daffy, "that pretty creature with
+the curly hair and large eyes, who is rolling up your ribbons; she is a
+real beauty."
+
+"She can't mean Rose?" asked Dolly of Daffy, looking innocent again.
+
+(Simple Daffy, puzzled to know how Dolly wished her to answer, contented
+herself with a little doubtful shake of the head.)
+
+"Call _her_ pretty?" said Dolly, returning from a tour of observation
+into the shop, as if she had not the slightest idea who was there; "call
+Rose pretty. Well, I'm beat now."
+
+"Why--don't you?" asked Miss Tufts. "I don't see how you can help it;
+her hair curls so beautiful, and she has such a way with her, it took
+right hold of me; her voice sounds as if a little bird was singing in
+her mouth."
+
+"Ridikilis!" said Dolly; "how you talk. Has your pa got over his
+pleurisy? That's right. How do you like this ribbon? It is new style,
+you see; one side is green, and the other red."
+
+The visitor's eyes being fixed on the ribbon which she had taken to the
+window to examine, Dolly took the opportunity to whisper to Daffy, "Go
+tell Rose to go out of the shop into the back part of the house."
+
+"It is a first-rate ribbon," said Miss Tufts, refolding it; "but look,
+there's Mrs. Clifton going down street. She hasn't held her head up
+since her baby died. How she does take it to heart, Dolly."
+
+"Yes," said Dolly, snipping off the end of her thread, "that's the way
+with those people who are always talking about 'another and a better
+world.' I don't see but they hold on to this one with just as tight a
+grip as other folks."
+
+"It isn't nature not to feel bad, when a friend dies," remarked Miss
+Tufts.
+
+"Well, there's no need of making such a blubbering about it," said
+Dolly. "I didn't, when our Maria died, I restrained my feelings; it is
+perfectly disgusting."
+
+"Here Daffy," said Dolly, as Miss Tufts tossed her shawl over her head,
+and bade them good-by, "here's the trimmings Nancy Dawes brought for
+her bonnet; it is not much matter how you put them on, she has no taste
+you know; it will be all one to her, if you only tell her it is the
+fashion; that is the right kind of customer for me, your knowing people
+are a sight of bother, with their fussing. Daffy, mind you save me
+enough of Nancy Dawes's ribbon for a bow for my neck, three quarters
+will make a very decent one, but I had rather have a yard; and Daffy,
+when Lawyer Grant's wife comes in to ask how much ribbon it will take to
+trim her bonnet, mind that you tell her a yard extra. She has all her
+ribbons from the city, and they are just the thing for neck-ribbons. She
+never will know but it is all put on her bonnet, when the bows are cut
+up and twisted together; she never asks no questions, there's nothing
+mean about Lawyer Grant's wife; she don't mind milliners and
+mantua-makers taking their little perquisites."
+
+"Sometimes I think it isn't right," said Daffy.
+
+"You do? that's a good one, I'd like to see your year's profits on any
+other system. Why, Mrs. Bond gets all hers and her children's aprons out
+of the silk, and de-laine, and thibet-cloth that ladies bring her for
+dresses; it is all right enough. We must take it out some way, when
+ladies beat us down to the lowest possible price for work; talk to me
+about its not being right--'self-preservation is the first law of
+natur,' as the Bible says."
+
+Daffy did not dispute the questionable authority of the quotation, but
+rolling the responsibility of the anticipated sin she had assumed, off
+on Dolly's broad shoulders, proceeded to do her bidding.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+
+Mrs. Clifton _was_ going down street, as Miss Tufts had said; going to
+"the baby's" grave, for she could bear the deserted nursery and empty
+cradle no longer. It was something to be near the little form, though
+the spirit which shone through the sweet eyes had winged its way to Him
+who gave it; and so she passes the little wicket-gate, and winds her way
+among other graves, over which other mothers, like her, have wept. Some
+of them, carefully kept, others overrun with briars and nettles; seas
+perhaps, rolling between some babe and her under whose heart it once
+stirred with embryo life; or, far away, perhaps, the mother too, may be
+sleeping, waiting, as does her solitary babe, for that day when the dead
+who are in their graves, shall hear _His_ voice, and come forth!
+
+Mrs. Clifton nears her baby's grave. A little form is bending over it, a
+slender, delicate child, whose clustering curls, as she stoops, quite
+hide her sweet face. Somebody else loves "the baby," for the little
+grave is dotted over with flowers, simple enough, indeed, but love's own
+offering. The mother draws nearer, smiling through her tears the
+while--the child looks up; it is Rose.
+
+"Bless you! bless you, my darling," Mrs. Clifton murmurs, and draws her
+to her bosom.
+
+"Why did you strew flowers on my baby, dear?" asked Mrs. Clifton, wiping
+her eyes.
+
+"Because I was so sorry for you," said Rose, timidly, "I thought perhaps
+it would make you happy, when you came here, to see them."
+
+"Did any one ever die whom you loved?" asked Mary.
+
+Rose's lip quivered, the tears gathered slowly in her eyes, and hung
+trembling on her lashes, as she nodded her little head.
+
+"Who, my darling?" asked Mary, drawing the child nearer to her.
+
+"My mother, my own dear mother!" said the weeping child, drawn to her
+kind questioner by the mutual sympathy of sorrow.
+
+
+"Rose--Rose--Rose!" screamed the shrill voice of Dolly from over the
+wall.
+
+"Oh, I must go! indeed I must; please don't tell, please don't say any
+thing," and Rose, hastily wiping away her tears, ran breathlessly toward
+the little wicket-gate.
+
+"Now I'd just like to know, miss, where you have been without leave?"
+asked Dolly.
+
+"Daffy told me you wanted me to go out of sight till after the company
+was gone," said Rose, "and I thought I would just step over into the
+church-yard, and put some daisies on the baby's grave."
+
+"Ridikilis!" exclaimed Dolly; "just as if that baby knew what was top of
+it; it is perfectly disgusting--you are just like your mother exactly.
+Now go along into the house."
+
+Rose entered the back parlor and sat down at the little window to her
+work.
+
+"Rose," said Dolly, about half an hour after, "don't your hair trouble
+you when you are sewing?"
+
+Rose looked up in astonishment at this demonstration of interest on the
+part of her tormentor.
+
+"I don't know," she answered; "I never thought any thing about it."
+
+("Now don't go to cutting it," whispered Daffy; "it looks so pretty.")
+
+"I think it is spoiling her eyes," said Dolly; "bring me the scissors,
+Rose," and Dolly notched her locks in and out, in as jagged a manner as
+she knew how. As for the offending eyes which Miss Tufts had
+complimented, they were too useful to be extinguished, and as there was
+no helping the "bird in her mouth," or the "pretty way she had with
+her," Dolly resolved to keep Rose out of sight as much as possible, with
+her sewing in the attic, which she designated as Rose's bed-room; and,
+in pursuance of this determination, she was ordered up there.
+
+Every body knows what a country attic is, with its hot, sloping,
+pitch-oozing roof, with its indescribable paraphernalia of dried mullen,
+elder-blow, thorough-wort, and tansy; with its refuse garden-tools,
+boxes, baskets, and chests of odds and ends; its spider-webs and its
+rat-holes.
+
+A salamander could scarcely have endured Dolly's attic that hot August
+noon. Rose sat down on the rickety old bed, under the heated eaves, to
+ply her needle. There was an opening in the roof, but the breeze seemed
+to blow over it, not into it. Rose made little progress with her sewing,
+for her temples began to throb painfully, and her fingers almost refused
+their office. Now she rubs her forehead and eyes, for a mist seems to be
+gathering over them; now she pulls her needle slowly out again, and now
+dizziness overpowers her, and she falls forward upon the floor.
+
+"Now just hear that noise," exclaimed Dolly; "hear that young one
+capering round that attic instead of doing her work. I'll soon settle
+that:" and taking her little riding-whip from behind the old-fashioned
+claw-footed clock in the corner, she mounted up stairs into the attic.
+
+Phew! how hot it was--the perspiration started at every step, and this
+fact did not tend to the diminution of Dolly's rage.
+
+"You needn't play asleep now, because it won't do," said she, laying the
+whip vigorously round the prostrate child. "I shall whip you till you
+get up and ask my pardon, d'ye hear?"
+
+There is not much satisfaction in whipping a person who does not appear
+to feel it, and Dolly turned Rose over to see what was the cause of her
+obtuseness; the face was so ghastly white that even she was for a moment
+daunted.
+
+But it is _only_ for a moment. Going to the head of the stairs, she
+calls, "Daffy?"
+
+"Look here, now," said Dolly, "see what comes of that young one's going
+into grave-yards, where all those horrid dead people lie moldering; take
+her up, Daffy, and carry her down into your bed-room; there's a whole
+day's work lost now for that nonsense; she won't be able to do another
+stitch to-day."
+
+Days, weeks, and months passed on, no lightening of the heavy load; but
+now the active spirit which seemed always devising fresh means of
+torture for the child, was itself prostrated by sickness. A fever had
+settled upon Dolly's strong frame and iron nerves, and reduced her to
+almost childish helplessness. Ah--who glides so gently, so tirelessly up
+stairs and down, bearing burdens under which her feeble frame totters?
+Who runs to the doctor's, and the apothecary's, who spreads the napkin
+over the little light-stand, that no rattle of spoons, glasses, and
+phials, may disturb the chance naps or jar the nerves of the invalid?
+And who, when she has done her best to please, bears the querulous
+fretfulness of disease and ill temper, with lamb-like patience?
+
+Who but Rose?
+
+"Why are you crying?" asked Daffy, as Rose stood by the kitchen table
+upon which she had just set down some glasses. "What is the matter with
+you?"
+
+"I am so sorry that I can not please Aunt Dolly; she says I have not
+done a single thing right for her since she was sick; and indeed, Daffy,
+I have tried _very_ hard," and Rose sobbed again: "I thought
+perhaps--that--Aunt--Dolly--might love me a little when she got well."
+
+"Never you mind, Rose," said the distressed Daffy, twitching at her
+thread, "never you mind, she's a--a--there's a six-pence for you Rose."
+
+"No, I thank you," said Rose, returning it, "I don't want money--I
+want--I want--somebody to love me," said the poor tired child, hiding
+her face in her apron.
+
+"Never you mind," said Daffy, again, rubbing her sleeve into her own
+eyes, "you shall--you shall--
+
+"Lor', I don't know what to say to you--Dolly's a--a--well she's sick
+and childish," said Daffy, ending her sentence in a very different
+manner from what she had intended.
+
+"Perhaps it _is_ that," said the good little creature, brightening up,
+"I did not think of that. How cruel it was for me to think her unkind,
+when she was only sick; I am glad you said that, Daffy," and Rose wiped
+her eyes and went back into the sick chamber.
+
+"It's awful to hold in when a body's so rampageous mad," said Daffy,
+jumping up and oversetting her basket of spools, cotton, needles, pins,
+etc. "I shouldn't wonder if I burst right out some day, to think of that
+poor, patient little creature being snubbed so, after being on her tired
+little legs these six weeks, traveling up and down, here and there, and
+lying on the floor side of Dolly's bed, night after night, and all after
+the way she has been treated too (for I have eyes if I don't say
+nothing), and as long as nobody hears me, I'll just out with it; Dolly
+has no more heart than that pine table," and Daffy gave it a vindictive
+thump.
+
+"There--now I feel better--I wish I dared tell her so to her face--but
+it isn't in me; she makes me shrivel all up, when she puts on one of her
+horrid looks, and I can't be looking out for a new place with this
+rheumatism fastening on me every time the wind blows; I don't know what
+is to become of the poor child, bless her sweet face."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+
+It is a long lane that has no turning, and Dolly now began to get about
+once more.
+
+"Dear me"--she exclaimed one morning, as she crawled round the shop,
+enveloped in a woolen shawl--"how every thing _has_ gone to rack and
+ruin since I have been sick; one month more sickness and I should have
+had to fail. See that yellow ribbon, all faded out, a lying in that
+window; when I was about, I moved it from the show-case to the window,
+and from the window to the show-case, according to the sun; three
+shillings a yard too, bought of Bixby & Co., the last time I went to the
+city; and there's the dress-caps put into the bonnet-boxes, and the
+bonnets put into the dress-cap boxes. Whose work is that I'd like to
+know? And as I live, if there isn't a hole in the cushion of my rocking
+chair, and the tassel torn off the window shade. O--d-e-a-r--m-e!" and
+Dolly sank into a chair, and looked pins and needles at the helpless
+Daffy.
+
+"You forget how much we have had to do, don't you, Dolly? I have hardly
+sat down half an hour at a time. What with waiting on customers, and
+looking after housekeeping matters, I am as tired as an old horse. I
+tried to do the best I could, Dolly."
+
+"That's what people always say when they have left every thing at sixes
+and sevens; but that don't put the color back into Bixby & Co.'s yellow
+ribbon, nor mend the shade tassel, nor the hole in my chair cushion. For
+mercy's sake, didn't you have Rose to help you? You make such a fuss
+about being tired."
+
+"It took about all Rose's time to wait on you," answered Daffy.
+
+"That's a good one!" exclaimed Dolly; "all on earth I wanted was to be
+kept quiet, take my medicines, and have a little gruel now and then. You
+can't make me believe that."
+
+"It takes a great many steps to do even that," said Daffy, meekly; "but
+you are weak yet, Dolly, and a little thing troubles you."
+
+"Do you mean to tell me that sickness has injured my mind?" said the
+incensed milliner; "that's a pretty story to get about among my
+customers. I could trim twenty bonnets if I chose. I am not so far gone
+as you think for; perhaps you was looking forward to the time when Dolly
+Smith would be taken off the sign-board, and Daffodil put up instead;
+perhaps Rose was to be your head apprentice; perhaps so."
+
+"Oh, Dolly," said Daffy, shrinking away from her cutting tone, "how can
+you?"
+
+"Well, I'm good for a _little_ while longer," said Dolly, "any how; now
+see that child," said she, pointing to Rose, who had just entered the
+door, "I bought those shoes just before I was sick, and now her toes are
+all out of 'em. See there, now. Do you suppose I can afford to find you
+in shoes at that rate?" and she seized Rose by the shoulders, pressing
+her thumb into her arm-pit, in a way to make her wince.
+
+"I'm very sorry, Aunt Dolly, but I had so much running to do. Had I
+thought of it, I would have taken off my shoes."
+
+"And worn your stockings all out," said Dolly, "that would have been a
+great saving, indeed."
+
+"I would have taken them off, too, had I thought you would have liked
+it, Aunt Dolly."
+
+"And gone barefoot here, in my house, so that the neighbors might say I
+didn't half clothe you. You never will pay for what you cost," said
+Dolly, pushing her roughly away. "You are just like your
+mother--ex-actly. Now begin to cry--that's mother, too, all over."
+
+"If I were only with her," thought Rose, as she seated herself at her
+work.
+
+Daffy stooped near to Rose, ostensibly to pick up a spool of thread, but
+in fact to whisper, "Never you mind, Rose; it is always the darkest just
+before day."
+
+A few weeks of returning health and successful bonnet-making made the
+amiable Dolly a little more endurable to every body but our heroine;
+for she had settled it in her mind that scant fare and harsh treatment
+were the only means to keep Maria's child where she should be.
+
+It was Saturday morning, or, in other words, Dolly's baking-day. You
+might have known it by the way the tables and chairs spun round, the
+window-sashes flew up and down, and by the pop-gun curtness of Dolly's
+questions and answers. Every body gave Dolly a wide berth on Saturday;
+even the cat kept out of doors till the last smoking loaf was taken from
+the oven, and Dolly had reseated herself at her usual post behind the
+counter. Poor Daffy dodged round in the most diplomatic manner, and
+never ventured a disclaimer for any sin, how heinous soever, with which
+Dolly might wrongfully charge her. With Rose it was _always_ 'Saturday,'
+and so she experienced no unusual flutter when Dolly bade her follow her
+into the kitchen, "as it was high time she learned to do the baking."
+
+"Here, now," said Dolly, "down with you in that chair, and see if you
+can stone those raisins decently. Mind that you whistle all the while
+you are doing it, I don't want them all eat up; raisins cost something,
+they are very much like you in that respect."
+
+Rose took the wooden bowl in her lap, and commenced her task, though she
+could not exactly understand how she was to learn to bake with her eyes
+fixed on the raisins.
+
+"What is that?" asked Rose, as Dolly measured out some lard, and put it
+on the table.
+
+"What do you suppose it is, for mercy's sake? I dare say you thought it
+was cheese. It would be just like you; it's lard, of course."
+
+"How much did you put in, Aunt Dolly?"
+
+"The usual quantity; how do you suppose my pies would taste, if I made
+them helter-skelter?"
+
+"That's why I asked you," answered Rose, meekly.
+
+"Well, how much did I put in? Why, there's that bowl full," said Dolly,
+"haven't you got eyes?"
+
+"But if that bowl should get broke, Aunt Dolly, I couldn't tell, unless
+I had another exactly that size, how much to take."
+
+"I suppose it must needs be a yellow bowl, too," sneered Dolly, "just
+like this, with a black rim round the edge; how ridikilis!"
+
+"Isn't there any rule?" asked Rose, despondingly; "how shall I know when
+I get it right?"
+
+"Why, go by your common sense, of course; how ridikilis; there, now,
+just see how you have cut those apples, all sorts of ways; wasted half
+of 'em in the parings."
+
+"I am sorry," said Rose, "I was trying to learn how you made that
+crust--how much butter is there there, Aunt Dolly?"
+
+"Why, those two pieces, don't you see? what silly questions you ask."
+
+"I am afraid I shall never learn," said the bewildered Rose, "I don't
+believe I could do it."
+
+"I dare say you couldn't; you are just as stupid about that as you are
+about every thing else. You are just like your mother, ex-actly."
+
+"What did you do that for?" asked Rose, as Dolly, having made her paste,
+put a small dab of dough in the mouth of the oven.
+
+"'Cause I felt like it," said Dolly, "it don't look like a pudding, does
+it, and it isn't a pie; I dare say you'd stare at it till the
+millennium, without ever guessing what it was for; come, stone your
+raisins; you won't get done till next Christmas; of course, if you had
+any sense, you'd know that it was a piece of dough put there to try the
+heat of the oven--you are the tiresomest little young one I ever saw;
+you always talk at me, till I'm all gone at the stomach."
+
+"Why did you stand some of the pies up on bricks in the oven, and set
+others on the oven floor?" asked Rose, a short time after.
+
+"Well," exclaimed Dolly, "that goes ahead of any thing you have said
+yet; if it wasn't for letting my oven cool, I could hold my sides and
+laugh an hour; a smart cook you'd make; don't you see that there's
+either too many pies or too small an oven, and that by standing bricks
+endways between the plates, and putting pies on top of 'em, I can get
+lots more room, you born fool! Did you ever see such a stupid thing?"
+asked Dolly, turning to Daffy.
+
+"But it's all new to her, you know," said Daffy, apologetically.
+
+"Well, new or old, that child never will be good for any thing, with all
+my trying; she's just like her mother, ex-actly."
+
+"There, now," said Dolly, "I am going into the bed-room to lie down; now
+see if you have sense enough to clear up here; get the dough off that
+pan and rolling-pin, put away the dredging-box, and salt, and lard, and
+butter, and things; throw away those apple chunks and raisin stuns, wash
+off the table, scrub up the floor, rinse out the dish-towels, and don't
+be all day about it."
+
+As Dolly slammed the door to behind her, Rose sat down on one of the
+kitchen chairs, leaned her head on the table, and wept; she was growing
+older, and more capable of judging of the gross injustice done her.
+
+Bitter, despairing thoughts came into her gentle heart, for it seemed as
+if the more patiently she bore her cross, the heavier it grew. She
+wondered if she could be worse off if she ran away, with the earth for
+her pillow, the skies for her shelter? Surely, strangers would not be
+more unfeeling than Dolly.
+
+Oh, how could Dolly be sister to the gentle mother, whom she had seen
+drooping away day by day, and whose sweet, tender eyes had never yet
+faded from her sight. Rose remembered the murmured prayer with which she
+drew her little head upon her bosom the day she died, and now--she
+looked hopelessly about her. Hark--she thought she heard her name
+murmured in those same sweet, loving, maternal accents.
+
+"_Rose!_"
+
+Was it fancy? No! A bunch of flowers glanced through the open window and
+fell at her feet; a paper was twisted round the stem, and on it was
+written,
+
+
+     "FOR THE BABY'S FRIEND, LITTLE ROSE.
+
+     "When thy father and thy mother forsake thee, then the Lord will
+     take thee up."
+
+
+A bright smile came to Rose's lip, and with a hurried glance around the
+kitchen, she hid the bouquet in her bosom, and stepped lightly to her
+tasks.
+
+The baby's mother loved her; the flowers were rightly
+named--Heart's-ease.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+
+"Don't you think you are a l-i-t-t-le hard on Rose?" asked Daffy, as
+Dolly reseated herself behind the counter, after her nap.
+
+"Hard on her? to feed her, and clothe her, and keep her out of the
+alms-house," said Dolly. "Dreadful hard, that is."
+
+"But you know you speak pretty sharp to her, and she does try to do
+right, Dolly."
+
+"So she ought," said Dolly, tartly.
+
+"Yes--but you know some children would get clean discouraged, if they
+were never praised."
+
+"Let her get discouraged, then, I don't care, so long as she does what I
+tell her."
+
+"I am afraid it will spoil her temper, by and by, and make it hard for
+you to get along with her."
+
+"No fear of that," answered Dolly, glancing up at her small riding-whip.
+
+"I have finished in the kitchen, Aunt Dolly," said Rose. "Shall I go
+take my sewing?"
+
+"Of course," said Dolly. "You might know that, without asking."
+
+"Looking pale, is she?" said Dolly, turning to Daffy, "did you see what
+a bright color she had when she came in, and how her eyes sparkled?"
+
+"I never saw her look so before," replied Daffy; "I wonder what has come
+over her."
+
+"Nothing has come over her, except that it has done her good to work;"
+said Dolly, "talk about my being 'hard on her,' indeed."
+
+"Good morning, Dolly! A paper of No. nine needles, sharps, if you
+please--have you heard the news?"
+
+"No," exclaimed Dolly and Daffy in a breath.
+
+"Well--Miss Pettingill was down to Miss Gill's to tea last night, and
+Miss Gill was to work the day before at Deacon Grant's; and she said
+Deacon Grant and Deacon Tufts were closeted in the back parlor all the
+afternoon, and Miss Gill listened at the key-hole, and she heard them
+say, that the minister ought to go off on a little journey with his
+wife, because they were so low sperrited about the baby, and they are
+going to raise the funds to send him to the springs or somewhere, I
+don't know where. Miss Gill couldn't hear the whole of it, because she
+was afraid of being caught listening."
+
+"I can tell them they won't raise any funds out of me," said Dolly--"Do
+I ever go to the springs? Do I ever get low-spirited? When minister's
+folks want to go on a frolic they always get up some such nonsense, and
+the parish has to pay the fiddler. It won't do," said Dolly. "I shan't
+give the first red cent toward it. His wife is going too, I 'spose."
+
+"Yes--both on 'em--they are both all down at the heel. I'm sorry for
+'em."
+
+"Well, I ain't," said Dolly--"babies is as plenty as blackberries, for
+the matter of that; they may have a dozen more yet, and if they don't,
+why then they will have more time to call on the parish, and make
+sermons and things--it is ridikilis!"
+
+
+Years rolled slowly away. Difftown, doomed to stereotyped dullness,
+remained in _statu quo_. It had still its "trainings" on the green, its
+cattle-fair Mondays, and its preceding Sabbaths in which herds of
+cattle, driven into the village on that day to 'save time' (as if time
+was ever saved or gained by breaking the fourth commandment), ran
+bleating round the little church, and with the whoas of their drivers,
+drowned the feeble Mr. Clifton's voice; feeble, though he still labored
+on, for consumption lent its unnatural brightness to his eye, and burned
+upon his hollow cheek;--the parsonage was doubly drear now, for the
+gentle form which flitted around it, had lain down long since with "the
+baby," and the broken band was destined soon to be complete.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+
+"'Most there, driver?" thundered out a red-faced man, as he thrust his
+frowsy head out of the stage-coach window.
+
+"'Most there? Sahara is nothing to this sand-hill; phew! touch up yer
+hosses, can't you? I'm perspiring like an eel in a frying-pan."
+
+"So are my horses," answered the driver, sulkily, "I can't run them up
+hill, this weather, to please you."
+
+It _was_ hot. The dust-begrimed leaves by the roadside hung limp and
+motionless: the cattle lay with protruding tongues under the broad tree
+shadows; not a single friendly cloud obscured the fierce brightness of
+the sun-rays, while the locust shrilly piped his simoom song in triumph.
+
+"In-fern-al!" growled the fat man on the back seat, as he wiped his
+rubicund face with a soiled cotton handkerchief.
+
+"Swearing will not make thee any cooler, friend," quietly remarked a
+drab bonnet by his side.
+
+"Did thee ever try it, ma'am?" asked the irritated Falstaff, mimicking
+her tone, "'cause if thee hasn't, thee is not qualified to judge on that
+point."
+
+"Did thee ever roll down that precipice?" asked the drab bonnet, "yet
+thee knows if thee should it would certainly harm thee."
+
+"Keen," muttered the fat man to a young lady who sat near him, as a
+suppressed titter ran round the coach. "These women always trip up a man
+in an argument, not by any fair play either, but by some such
+metaphorical twist as that now. Well--nature gives strength to us,
+cunning to them; I suppose she knows what she is about. Women are
+necessary evils; if we can not get along with them, we certainly can not
+without them; I suppose it is all right;" and he looked for a reply in
+the face of the young lady whom he had addressed.
+
+She seemed not to have heard any thing which had passed; her large, dark
+eyes were bent upon an infant who lay asleep on her lap, a very cupid
+for grace and beauty. The child could scarcely have been her own, for
+she could not have numbered more than sixteen summers; and yet there was
+the same full red lip, the same straight nose, and the same long curved
+lashes. The intense heat which had coarsened the features of her
+companions served only to have heightened the beauty of the young girl;
+deepening the rose on her lip and cheek, and moistening her tresses till
+they curled round her open brow like vine tendrils.
+
+"This is the house miss," said the driver, throwing open the door, and
+looking in. "This is old Ma'am Bond's, miss."
+
+The young girl colored slightly, and roused the little sleeper on her
+lap, who opened his large brown eyes, and yawned just enough to show off
+two little snowy teeth, and a very bewitching dimple, and then cuddled
+his little head into the girl's neck as the driver held out his arms to
+take him.
+
+The driver deposited his charge and their scanty baggage, on the front
+stoop of the old wooden house, and remounting his box, gave his horses'
+ears a professional touch with his long whiplash. Turning to give his
+ex-passengers a parting glance, he said:
+
+"Wonder if that girl _is_ the child's mother? Can't be, though," said
+he, still gazing at her slight figure; "she's nothing but a child
+herself. That boy is a beauty, any how, shouldn't mind owning him
+myself. I'm beat if any parson could call _him_ totally depraved. That
+girl can't be his mother, though--she's too young."
+
+Yes, young in years; but what is the dial's finger to those who live
+years in a lightning moment, or to whom an hour may be the tortoise
+creep of a century?
+
+Yes, young in years; the face may be smooth and fair, while the heart is
+wrinkled; the eye may be bright, though the fire which feeds it is
+drying up the life-blood.
+
+Yes, young in years; but old in sorrow--a child, and yet a woman!--a
+mother, but the world said, not a wife.
+
+
+Rat--tat--the dilapidated brass knocker is as old as its mistress. The
+young girl draws a glove from her small hand, and applies her knuckles
+to the sun-blistered door. Old Mrs. Bond toddles to the threshhold. With
+what a stony look the stranger meets her curious gaze! With what a firm
+step she crosses the threshhold; as if, child-mother as she was, she had
+rights that must not be trampled on. But see, her eye moistens, and her
+lip quivers. Harshness she was prepared for--kindness she knows not how
+to bear.
+
+"You must be very weary," said good Mrs. Bond to Rose, as she held out
+her matronly arms for little Charley. "Poor little fellow!" and she held
+a glass of cold spring water to his parched lips; "how pleasant he is;
+and the weather so warm too."
+
+"Charley is a good boy," said the young mother, pushing back the moist
+curls from his temples, with a sad pride.
+
+"It is a very pleasant country through which you passed to-day," said
+Mrs. Bond, "though mayhap you were too weary to look at it."
+
+"Is it?" answered Rose, languidly.
+
+"Perhaps you would like to lie down," suggested the old lady, kindly;
+"and your little room is quite ready. Your aunt, Mrs. Howe, sent us
+word you would be here to-day."
+
+The old stony look came back to Rose's face, and she stepped like a
+young queen, as she tossed the boy carelessly over her shoulder, and
+followed the old lady up the narrow stairs to her own room.
+
+"Mrs. Howe was here yesterday in her carriage," said Mrs. Bond. "She
+left this letter for you," handing it to Rose as she spoke. "Here are
+water and towels, if you would like to bathe the little fellow. We have
+no closets, but I have driven up some nails for your clothes. I hope you
+will be comfortable. Shall I close the blinds for you?"
+
+"No, thank you," said Rose; "I am obliged to you; it is very comfor--"
+but the word died upon her lips, and she stooped over Charley to conceal
+the rebellious tears, as Mrs. Bond left the room.
+
+Yes, every thing was neat and clean--but so bare and desolate. The
+old-fashioned windows were mere port-holes, and so high that as Rose sat
+she could only see the blue sky, and the tops of the waving trees. There
+was a yellow wash-stand, a bed, a table, and two chairs. Colored
+engravings of Joan of Arc and Mary Queen of Scots habited alike, hung in
+wooden frames on the wall. The floor was uncarpeted, and huge beams
+crossed the ceiling.
+
+As Rose looked about her, she drew a long weary breath, and stretched
+out her arms, as if imploring some invisible aid. The babe crowed and
+smiled; the trail of the serpent was not in his Eden.
+
+Untying her bonnet, Rose broke the seal of the letter in her hand, and
+read as follows:
+
+
+     "You must be aware that you have built up a wall between yourself
+     and the virtuous of your own sex; you must know that you have no
+     claim upon the love or sympathy of any such. I presume, like others
+     of your class, you excuse your sin to yourself, and are quite ready
+     to meet me, your only relative, whom you have disgraced, with a
+     plausible story of your marriage. It is quite useless. I shall
+     never associate with you. Still I am willing to provide you a
+     shelter with Mrs. Bond for two months, till your child (it is a
+     great pity it lived) is that much older. I shall pay but a small
+     sum for your board, as I expect you to do your own washing and the
+     child's, and assist Mrs. Bond in the house work. You are a sad
+     disgrace to us. My husband is just nominated for mayor. I have
+     given orders to Mrs. Bond and some of the neighbors to watch you
+     closely. If you walk out alone, or receive visitors, my allowance
+     is at once withdrawn. One would think, however, you would have
+     little desire to show yourself. I hope you will repent of the
+     disgrace you have brought upon us.
+
+     DOLLY HOWE."
+
+
+Rose sprung up and paced the chamber floor. The veins in her temples
+swelled almost to bursting. Her large dark eyes flashed, and her teeth
+closed over her full red lip till the blood almost started, and tearing
+the letter into pieces, she trampled it under foot. The babe crept
+smiling after, picking up the bits as they fell from her hand. With a
+quick grasp she wrenched them from his tiny hand, trampling them again
+under foot. Then, as the boy uttered a low, grieved cry, she snatched
+him to her breast, covered him with kisses, and throwing herself upon
+the bed, burst into a long and passionate fit of weeping.
+
+And thus they sobbed themselves to sleep, the child and the child
+mother, pure alike in His eyes who judgeth not by outward appearance,
+and to whom the secrets of all hearts are known.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+
+In a private parlor of one of our great Southern cities sat two young
+men, in dressing-gowns, smoking-caps, and slippers. On a table between
+them stood a silver cigar-stand, a bottle of wine covered with cobwebs,
+and two empty glasses. The room was exquisitely furnished, with the
+exception of some questionable drawings upon the walls, and the young
+men themselves were what boarding-school misses would have called
+"perfect loves." Their hands were very white, their whiskers in a high
+state of cultivation, their cravats were quite miraculous, and their
+diamond rings of the purest water.
+
+"Is this your last trophy?" asked Grey, poising a slipper of Cinderella
+dimensions on the palm of his hand.
+
+"That? not by a score," carelessly answered Vincent, changing his
+diamond ring to the other hand; "that belongs to the pretty
+boarding-school girl. I really had quite forgotten her. I wonder what
+ever became of her? She was a perfect little Hebe, effervescent as
+Champagne, quite worth a three months' siege."
+
+"And believed herself married to you, I suppose?" asked Grey.
+
+"Of course," said Vincent, laughing; "she was the most trusting little
+thing you ever saw, primevally innocent in fact; it was quite
+refreshing. How's the wine, Grey?"
+
+"Capital," answered his friend, refilling his glass and holding it up to
+the light with the gusto of a connoisseur. "Capital; but, Vincent, you
+are a wicked dog."
+
+"Think so?" drawled Vincent quite proudly, surveying his handsome face
+in an opposite mirror.
+
+"Yes," said Grey, "I am bad enough; but shoot me if I could be the first
+to lead a woman astray."
+
+"You sneaking poltroon," laughed Vincent; "if you did not, somebody else
+would."
+
+"That does not follow," answered Grey; "don't you believe that there are
+virtuous women?"
+
+"Ha! ha! you ought to have your picture taken now," laughed Vincent.
+"Propound that question, most innocent Joseph, at our next club-meeting,
+will you? The explosion of a basket of Champagne corks would be nothing
+to the fizz it would make. A virtuous woman! no woman, my dear boy, was
+ever virtuous but for lack of temptation and opportunity."
+
+"I will never subscribe to that," said Grey, with a flushed cheek;
+"no--not as I honor my mother and my sister."
+
+Vincent's only answer was a slight elevation of the eyebrow, as he
+pushed the bottle again toward Grey.
+
+"No, thank you; no more for me," answered Grey, in disgust, as he left
+the room.
+
+"Green yet," said Vincent, lighting a cigar. "I can remember when I was
+just such a simpleton. 'Virtuous women!' If women are virtuous, why do
+they give the cold shoulder to steady moral fellows, to smile on a
+reckless dog like me? I have always found women much more anxious to
+ascertain the state of a man's purse than the state of his morals. If I
+am an infidel on the subject of female virtue, women have only
+themselves to thank for it. I believed in it once."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+
+"She's down stairs, she's back again, the young woman and her baby. I
+knew you wouldn't like to hear it, ma'am."
+
+"Go down stairs, and tell her I am not at home, Patty."
+
+"I did tell her so, knowing your mind, ma'am; but she said I was
+mistaken, for that she saw you at the window."
+
+"Say that I am sick, then, and can not be disturbed; and, Patty, tell
+the cook to see that her custards are ready for dessert; Mr. Finels
+dines here to-day."
+
+Patty retired with her instructions, but presently returned in great
+haste.
+
+"Bless us all, ma'am, the baby is taken in a fit in the entry, and is
+rolling up its eyes horrid! Shall I tell her to go away with it?"
+
+"Yes!" said Mrs. Howe--"yes--no--how provoking! I don't believe it--I'll
+go down myself, Patty."
+
+Throwing a large cashmere shawl over her robe-de-chambre, Mrs. Howe went
+reluctantly down stairs.
+
+The baby did look "horrid," as Patty had said, and Rose stood over it
+wringing her hands.
+
+"I don't see what you have come back for," grumbled Mrs. Howe, turning
+her back upon the convulsed baby.
+
+"What shall I do? oh, tell me what to do for him!" said the young
+mother--"he will die! Charley will die!"
+
+"All the better for him, if he should," said Mrs. Howe.
+
+"Oh," said Rose, kneeling at her feet, "you have lost a little one, can
+not you pity me."
+
+Even this touching appeal would have been powerless to move Mrs. Howe,
+had not the twitch of the bell-wire announced a visitor at the front
+door. Hastily running to Patty, she said, "Take that child up stairs and
+lay it on your bed. I am sure I don't know what to do with him; my
+nerves are all unstrung; take him away; I suppose he will come out of
+his fit before long."
+
+Patty stooped to take Charley in her arms, but Rose anticipated her, and
+carried the poor tortured child up into the attic. He came out of that
+fit only to go into another, and Rose, agonized beyond endurance, fell
+senseless across the bed.
+
+"They are dying, both of 'em!" screamed Patty, bursting into Mrs. Howe's
+room again; "you will _have_ to attend to it now, ma'am, sure. I know
+_I_ can't stay by them."
+
+"Go for the doctor, then," said Mrs. Howe, thinking this might be
+preferable to a coroner's inquest; "not _our_ doctor, but the one in the
+next street."
+
+"Your doctor is the nearest, ma'am," suggested Patty.
+
+"Do as I tell you!" said the frowning Mrs. Howe, going leisurely up
+stairs.
+
+"Just see what a spot of work, ma'am," said the cook, who had run up to
+see what was the matter; "that child must be undressed, ma'am, and put
+into a warm bath."
+
+"Let it alone," said Mrs. Howe; "the doctor will be here presently. How
+do you know it is the right thing to do with the child?"
+
+"I am sure of it, ma'am, begging your pardon; my sister's child had just
+the like of those fits, and that was what we always did for him, but
+just as you please, ma'am--hadn't you better hold some smelling-salts to
+its mother's face? she's in a faint, like."
+
+Patty arrived at length with the doctor, who puffed considerably at
+climbing so many stairs, and disconcerted Mrs. Howe still more by his
+keen survey of the barren attic, Mrs. Howe's expensive apparel, and the
+two patients before him.
+
+Charley he pronounced in a critical state, owing to the length of time
+he had lain in the fit; he then wrote a prescription, applied some
+remedies, and recommended perfect quiet, and attentive nursing.
+
+"He can not be moved, then?" asked Rose, who had recovered sufficiently
+to know what was passing.
+
+"By no means," said the doctor, "is it your child?" he asked, looking
+with surprise at the girlish form before him.
+
+Rose bowed her head.
+
+"In fact," said the doctor, "I shouldn't think you were fit to go
+yourself, if that were your intention."
+
+Mrs. Howe's face flushed, and she walked up and down the floor uneasily.
+
+"How long before he will be able to be moved?" asked Rose.
+
+"It is impossible to tell. I think he may have a run of fever. I can
+tell better to-morrow. Perhaps it would be better, on account of this
+window," suggested the doctor, as he pointed to the broken panes of
+glass, "to remove the child into another room. Don't you think so,
+madam?" he asked, turning to Mrs. Howe.
+
+"Oh, of course, certainly," replied Mrs. Howe, "he ought to have every
+comfort the house affords."
+
+Had the doctor known Mrs. Howe better, he would not have been deceived
+at the seeming Samaritanism of this sarcastic reply. Rose could only
+groan in anguish.
+
+"It would be well to have those recipes attended to as soon as possible,
+madam," said the doctor, handing them to Mrs. Howe, "shall you take
+charge of my patient, madam?"
+
+"Certainly," said Mrs. Howe, with another withering aside glance at
+Rose.
+
+"Well, then, madam, if you will have the goodness to watch the child
+closely, until after he has taken his second powder--you see there are
+two of them, one to be taken as soon as it arrives, and the other three
+hours after. Should any thing unforeseen occur, you know my address,"
+and the doctor, resuming his hat and cane, left the room, followed by
+Mrs. Howe.
+
+"Oh! Charley, Charley!" murmured Rose, pressing her lips to the little
+hot hand which lay upon the bed, "do not leave me."
+
+But the desolate mother had little time for reflection, for Mrs. Howe
+returned immediately after having seen the doctor down stairs, and
+coming up to the bed-side, demanded of Rose "what she meant by bringing
+that sick child into town to burden her?"
+
+"He was quite well when I started; I am very sorry, very, that I can not
+go back. I lost a letter here, the only one I ever had from--"
+
+"Your _husband_, I suppose you would say," said Mrs. Howe. "It is
+astonishing that you will persist in keeping up that humbug; I should
+think you might have learned by this time that your husband, as you call
+him, could never have had much love for a woman whom he has neglected so
+long; and so all this bother has come of a search for a precious piece
+of his writing? 'Tis all a pretense, and you needn't believe that I
+don't see through it."
+
+Rose knew it was quite useless to attempt any justification of herself
+and made no reply.
+
+"I am glad you have sense enough not to deny it," said Mrs. Howe, bent
+upon irritating her; "I am quite a match for your cunning in every
+respect, Rose. I suppose you will have to stay here now, till the child
+gets a little better, but I want you distinctly to understand that you
+must wait upon yourself; my servants have something else to do, and when
+you have occasion to go below, see that you go down the back stairs, and
+do not allow yourself to be seen. You can move into the next room,
+Bridget's room, if the Doctor cares for that broken window; that is some
+of Patty's carelessness, I suppose. I shall insist upon your leaving the
+house at the earliest possible opportunity; when the medicine comes you
+must attend to it yourself;" and gathering up her flowing skirts, Mrs.
+Howe left the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+
+"It is very curious that Rose does not come back; it is only five miles
+into the city. I begin to think that something has happened to the poor
+child," said old Mrs. Bond. "I feel quite uneasy. Mrs. Howe certainly
+would not keep her any longer than she could help. Something _must_ have
+happened;" and she walked from one window to the other, put up her
+spectacles, and took them out, then took a book down from the shelf, and
+after reading it upside down a few minutes, returned it to its place
+again.
+
+"I must certainly go into town and see what is the matter," said she. "I
+never shall rest easy till I know;" and going out to the barn, she
+called the cow-boy, and by his help, harnessed the old gray horse into
+the chaise, for a drive into the city.
+
+It was slow work, that ride; for the old, stiff-jointed creature,
+knowing well the all-enduring patience of his mistress, crawled
+leisurely up and down the long hills, stopped to pay his respects to
+every water-trough he came across, and nosed round the sides of the road
+after the grass-patches, in the most zig-zag fashion; now and then
+stopping short, and insisting upon an entire reprieve from locomotion,
+to be lengthened or shortened, at his own discretion. As to the whip,
+old Gray stood in no fear of that, because his mistress never used it
+for any thing but to drive off the flies. It is not astonishing,
+therefore, that it was well on toward noon before he and Mrs. Bond
+reached the city. It was as much of an event for old Gray, as for his
+mistress, to see it. It was many years since either had been there. Its
+kaleidoscope frivolities had little charm for Mrs. Bond; her necessary
+wants were easily supplied from the village, and she was so fortunate as
+to have no artificial ones.
+
+Old Gray stopped short, as the city's din fell upon his unsophisticated
+ear; and as he moved on and listened to the lashings less favored nags
+were receiving from merciless drivers, as he saw the enormous loads
+under which they staggered--stumbled--and oftentimes fell upon the
+plentifully watered, and slippery pavement, rising (if they rose at all)
+with strained and excoriated limbs, he probably thought, if horses ever
+think, that "God made the country, and man made the town."
+
+"Whip up your old skeleton. Get out of the way there, can't ye?"
+muttered one of the progressives. "Drive to the left there, ma'am; drive
+to the right; halt there, ma'am," and similar other expostulations,
+coupled with invectives, were thundered in the ears of Mrs. Bond; who,
+in her benevolence of heart, jerked this way and that, backed, sidled,
+and went forward, and in the vain attempt to oblige all, displeased
+every body; still she maintained her placidity, and smiled as sweetly as
+if every person in the blockaded thoroughfare were not wishing her in
+the torrid zone.
+
+The old lady's greatest trouble, was her fear of running over some one
+of the many pedestrians, of all sizes and ages, who traversed so
+fearlessly that Babel of horses and carriages.
+
+"Dear heart!" she would ejaculate, as some little child made his
+unprotected way through the vehicles. "Dear heart! it will certainly get
+killed!"
+
+Good old soul! she did not know how miraculously city children live on,
+in spite of crowded streets, schoolteachers, milk-men, and foolish
+mammas.
+
+But at length, a stable is reached near Mrs. Howe's; and the jolly
+hostlers nudge each other in the ribs, as the old ark rattles into the
+paved yard; and Mrs. Bond climbs carefully out, and resigns old Gray
+into their hands, with many charges as to his plentiful supply of water
+and oats. As the nice old lady turns her back, they go into convulsions
+of merriment over the whole establishment, from harness to hub;
+interrogating old Gray about his pedigree in a way which they think
+immensely funny.
+
+Mrs. Bond threads her way along on foot, now good-naturedly picking up a
+parcel for some person who had unconsciously dropped one, now fumbling
+from out her pocket a penny for the little vagrants who are tossing mud
+back and forth over the crossings, with very questionable stubs of
+brooms, to the imminent risk of pedestrians; and now she slides a
+newspaper, which the truant wind has displaced, under the door crack for
+which it was destined.
+
+Now she sees a group of ragged, dirty little children, nestled upon a
+door-step, upon which they have spread out a dingy cloth, containing old
+bones, bits of meat, cold potatoes, and crusts of bread, upon which
+their hungry eyes are gloating. It is too much for the old lady. She
+points to the gutter, where she wishes their unwholesome meal thrown,
+and beckoning them toward a baker's window, plentifully supplies the
+whole party with fresh bread and crackers.
+
+And now she stops short, for she hears a name uttered dear as her hopes
+of heaven.
+
+"Jesus Christ!"
+
+The speaker's hands are not clasped, his head is not bowed, no prayer
+followed that dear name; it was not reverently spoken. She turns on the
+gentleman who uttered it a look, not of reproof but pity--such a look as
+might have lingered on the Saviour's face when he said, "Father forgive
+them; they know not what they do."
+
+A crimson blush overspread his face, and his "Pardon me, madam" was
+answered only by a gathering tear in the old lady's eye as she bowed
+her head and turned slowly away, her lips moving as if in prayer. _He_
+felt it--and the jest died upon his lip as his eyes involuntarily
+followed her feeble footsteps, and thoughts of a sainted mother's
+long-forgotten prayers came rushing through his mind with childhood's
+freshness.
+
+Ah, who shall say into what pits of selfish and unhallowed pleasure that
+look shall haunt the recipient? What night shall be dark enough to hide
+it, what day bright enough to absorb its intensity? Who shall say that
+hallelujahs shall not yet tremble on the lips where erst were curses?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+
+Mrs. Howe was lying on a sofa in her boudoir, in a showy
+_robe-de-chambre_ of green, with cherry facings, over an elaborately
+embroidered white petticoat. She had on also toilet slippers, with green
+and cherry trimmings, and a very fanciful breakfast cap.
+
+"Fall fashions open to-day, eh?" said she, laying a nicely printed
+envelope, scented with "millefleurs," with which Madame Du Pont had
+announced that important fact to her customers.
+
+"Madame will have loves of things, just as she always does. I shall be
+so happy in looking them over. I think I must have a lilac hat; madame
+thinks lilac best suited to my complexion. Mr. Finels likes me in lilac;
+as to John, he don't appear to know one color from another. I don't
+think, however, a man ever knows what his wife has on. Madame Du Pont
+would make very little if we had only our husbands to dress for; yes, I
+will have a lilac hat, and I will go there before any other woman has a
+chance to make a selection of the best. I must go in a carriage: Madame
+Du Pont never pays any attention to a lady who comes on foot; a
+hackney-coach is terribly vulgar. I must persuade John to set up a
+carriage. I will contrive the livery myself. I wonder what is our family
+coat-of-arms? I must go to the heraldry office, I think, and buy one; a
+bear would be most emblematical of John--how cross he is getting! I
+never should get along at all without Finels." And Mrs. Howe drew out
+her gold watch, and then rising, surveyed herself in the long glass.
+
+"Well, Mary, what is wanted?"
+
+"If you please, ma'am, Mr.---- Mr.----, I forget his name, is below, and
+wants to speak with you a few minutes."
+
+"You stupid creature, you should have brought up his card. How am I to
+know who it is? or whether it is worth while to make any change in my
+dress or not?"
+
+"I guess it is, ma'am," said Polly, with a sly look. "It is--Mr.----,
+Mr.----Fin--Tin--"
+
+"Finels?" asked Mrs. Howe, innocently.
+
+"That's just the name, ma'am. I never can remember it. It is the
+gentleman who always says to me if Mr. Howe is busy not to call him;
+that _Mrs._ Howe will do just as well," and Polly grinned behind her
+apron corner.
+
+"How tiresome to call so early!" exclaimed Mrs. Howe, with ill-concealed
+delight. "Well, I suppose you must tell him that I will be down
+directly. Is the parlor all right, Mary?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am, and Mr. Howe has just gone out."
+
+This last remark, of course, was not heeded by Mrs. Howe, who was
+playing in a very indifferent manner with her cap strings.
+
+
+"You must really excuse my _robe-de-chambre_, Mr. Finels," said Mrs.
+Howe, making use of the only French phrase she knew, to draw attention
+to her new _negligée_ which a poor dress-maker had set up all night to
+finish for the present occasion.
+
+"I could not have excused you had you not worn it," said Finels, quite
+accustomed to the little transparent trickeries of the sex, "it is in
+perfect taste, as is every thing you wear; and I feel more particularly
+flattered by your wearing it on the present occasion, because I consider
+that when a lady dispenses with etiquette in this way toward a gentleman
+friend, she pays a silent compliment to the good sense of her visitor,"
+and Finels made one of his Chesterfieldian bows, and placed his right
+hand on his velvet vest. "Beside, my dear madam, one who is so superior
+as yourself to all the adornments of dress, should at any rate be exempt
+from the tyranny of custom."
+
+"Oh, thank you," minced Mrs. Howe, playing with her robe tassels, and
+trying to improvise a blush.
+
+"Here is a volume of poems which I had the luck to stumble upon
+yesterday. I have brought them to you, because I like to share such a
+pleasure with an _appreciative_ spirit," said the wily Finels, who
+always complimented a woman for some mental, or physical perfection, of
+which she knew herself to be entirely destitute. "It is a book I could
+speak of to but _few_ persons, for I hoard such a treasure as a miser
+does his gold."
+
+Mrs. Howe _really_--blushed with pleasure. The diplomatic Finels was not
+astonished, he was accustomed to such results.
+
+"You will find some marked passages here," said Finels, turning over the
+leaves. "They are perfect gems; I thought of you when I read them. I
+risk nothing in hoping that you will admire them equally with myself,"
+and he handed her the book. "Is Mr. Howe not yet in?" he asked in a loud
+tone of voice as he heard that gentleman's footsteps approaching.
+"Ah--how d'ye do, Howe? I was beginning to despair of seeing you."
+
+"Thank you, thank you," muttered John, gruffly, throwing up the window
+in extreme disgust at the strong odor of patchouli on Finel's
+handkerchief, "thank you, you are _too_ good."
+
+"I came," said Finels, "this morning to consult you on important
+business matters. We literary people are sadly deficient in practical
+affairs, and I know of no one in whose judgment I could so safely rely
+as your own. Can you give me your arm down street?"
+
+"Any time to-morrow I will be happy to oblige you," said the mollified
+John; "to-day I have an unpostponable business engagement with the
+stockholders of the ---- Railroad."
+
+"Any time--any time, my dear fellow," said Finels, who was not at all
+sorry for the reprieve; "I shall not think of deciding, at any rate,
+until I see you again," and with as faultless a bow to Mrs. Howe as
+Finels alone could make in a husband's presence, he backed gracefully
+out.
+
+"Finels is a _pretty_ good fellow, after all," said Mr. Howe, "_rather_
+too much of a fop. What's this?" he asked, taking up the book which that
+gentleman had left.
+
+"Good gracious, Mr. Howe! see the paint on your new coat," said his
+wife, remembering the marked passages and marginal notes, in the poems,
+intended for her eye alone; "good gracious, Mr. Howe! do come up into my
+dressing-room, and let me take it off while it is fresh."
+
+A little sponge wet with spirits of turpentine, if it did not obliterate
+the paint that never was there, at least obliterated all recollection of
+the book from John's innocent mind; and Mrs. Howe, seeing her lord
+safely out of the house with his spotless coat, prepared for her call at
+Du Pont's.
+
+"Please, ma'am," said Patty, "there is an old woman below, as wants to
+see you bad."
+
+"Didn't I tell you to send away all beggars, Patty?"
+
+"She is not a beggar, and yet she is not a lady exactly, and yet she
+_is_," said the puzzled Patty. "She is very respectable, ma'am; she said
+her name was--was--I declare ma'am, I am shocking at names."
+
+"Well--send her off, any way," said Mrs. Howe; "tell her I am out."
+
+"But I have told her you was _in_, ma'am, not knowing as you might want
+to see her."
+
+"You never should do that, Patty, you should always say that you will
+see if I am in; that gives me a chance, you see. Go tell her then, that
+I am engaged."
+
+"Please ma'am," said Patty, returning after a few minutes, "she says her
+name is 'Mrs. Bond,' and wants to know if she can see the young woman,
+and the sick baby; shall I show her up there?"
+
+"Yes--yes--don't bother--I never shall get off to Madame Du Pont's."
+
+
+One--two--three--four--five pair of back stairs, dark as only city back
+stairs can be. Poor old Mrs. Bond stumbled and panted, panted and
+stumbled breathlessly up toward the attic.
+
+Patty threw open the door of the cook's room which Mrs. Howe, out of her
+abundance, had benevolently appropriated to the use of the sick child.
+The floor was uncarpeted, the window was without a blind, and the fat
+cook's ample petticoat had been pinned up by Mrs. Howe, not out of
+kindness to the sick child, but to keep out the eyes of prying
+neighbors.
+
+Rose sat on the only seat in the room, a low cricket, swaying to and fro
+with Charley in her lap, vainly trying to hush his moanings; her eyes
+were swollen with weeping, and her face was even whiter than Charley's,
+for through the long weary hours, she had paced the floor with him, or
+sat on the cricket, lulling him as best she could, watching every change
+of expression in his little wan face.
+
+At sight of Mrs. Bond, her pent up heart found vent, and laying her head
+upon her shoulder she sobbed aloud.
+
+"Don't, darling, don't," said Mrs. Bond, with difficulty restraining her
+own emotions at Rose's distress, and the comfortless look of every thing
+about her. "Dear heart, don't cry;" and taking Charley in her matronly
+arms, she pushed Rose gently toward the bed, and sat down beside her.
+
+"I see--I see"--she whispered, looking round the room, "you needn't say
+a word, dear, it is hard to bear; but turn over, and try to catch a nap
+while I hold the baby;" and cuddling him up into her comfortably fat
+neck, the good hearted old lady commenced her weary walk up and down the
+attic floor. Her gentle lulling and gentler touch, for babies know well
+how to appreciate an experienced and skillful hand, soon soothed the
+little sufferer. Rose, too, relieved from the pressure of
+responsibility which had weighed so heavily on her inexperience, yielded
+to the exhaustion which overpowered her, and sank into a fitful slumber.
+
+Mrs. Bond laid Charley down on the foot of the bed, enveloped in her own
+warm shawl, and with velvet tread and noiseless touch, rinsed the
+glasses and spoons which stood on the window-seat near her, rearranged
+the cook's petticoat over the window, and sat down to watch her charge.
+
+How even those few hours' sickness had blanched Charley's cheek, and
+paled Rose's lip!--"How _could_ Mrs. Howe?"--but no, she would not think
+about it, if she could help it; and yet it _was_ cruel; no, no, she
+would not think of it, and leaning her head forward upon the bed, she
+prayed God to make the stony heart a heart of flesh.
+
+Rose started up--she was not dreaming, for there sat good Mrs. Bond,
+with her snowy cap and heart-warming smile.
+
+"Dear heart! what a nice little nap you have had," she says, kissing
+Rose's forehead; "try and sleep again, dear."
+
+"No," replied Rose, rising slowly; "lie down yourself--how very tired
+you must be, and how kind you are! I don't know how to bear such
+wretched hours as I have had here; oh, mother--mother!" and Rose sobbed
+again.
+
+"There--there!" said Mrs. Bond, wiping Rose's eyes with her
+handkerchief; "don't now, there's a dear. I don't know why this is, but
+I know God loves us all, though we may not sometimes think so. Bear it,
+and trust Him, dear; we shall know all by and by. There, don't cry,
+now;" and Mrs. Bond wiped away her own tears.
+
+A little stifled moan from the shawl announced Charley's waking. Rose
+took him up, and sat down with him upon her lap; how hot was his little
+head and hand, and how heavy his eye!
+
+"Give him a sup of cold water, dear; see how parched his lips are."
+
+"There is none up here," said Rose. "Mrs. Howe said I must not call upon
+the servants, and I could not leave Charley alone to get it; now that
+you are here, I will go down for some, if you will take Charley."
+
+Mrs. Bond shook her head, and motioning Rose to sit still, took a mug in
+her hand, and slowly felt her way down the dark back stairway.
+
+On the third landing she had a little more light on more than one
+subject, as Mrs. Howe's "boudoir" door was then open for the purpose of
+cleaning it. What soft, downy sofas and cushions!--what a mossy
+carpet!--what luxurious curtains and chairs! The old lady shook her head
+mournfully; and, supporting herself by the balustrade, descended another
+pair. There was light there, too, for the drawing-room door was open;
+no niggard hand had furnished its gilded mirrors and pictures, its
+lounges, tête-à-têtes, and candelabras; there was no parsimony in that
+ample China closet, with its groaning shelves of porcelain, silver,
+gold, and cut glass. Down still another pair to the kitchen, whose
+savory odors already greeted her nostrils; no parsimony there, with its
+turkeys and chickens roasting, its pies and puddings making, its
+custards and jellies quivering in costly cut glasses--no parsimony
+there.
+
+"Will you have the goodness to show me to the pump in the yard?" asked
+the unsophisticated Mrs. Bond.
+
+"Pump in the yard! won't this pump do as well?" asked the "professed
+cook," with a grin at one of her underlings.
+
+"Yes, thank you," said the dignified old lady, discovering her mistake,
+and moving toward the pump.
+
+"Civil," whispered the cook to her assistant, "I am sorry I laughed at
+her. Let me pump it for you," she said, taking the pitcher from the old
+lady's hand.
+
+"I will be obliged to you if you will," she said, "I don't understand
+the handle of the pump. Thank you," said Mrs. Bond, with one of her
+disarming smiles, as she held out her hand for the pitcher.
+
+"Let me carry it up for you," said the cook, "it is such a way up."
+
+"Oh, no!" said Mrs. Bond, quickly, remembering what Rose had told about
+Mrs. Howe's order not to call on the servants.
+
+But the cook was already out the door with the pitcher, and Mrs. Bond
+followed her.
+
+"What has come over you, now, I'd like to know," said Patty, as the
+breathless cook returned to her turkeys, "it is the first time I ever
+saw you put yourself out to oblige any body."
+
+"Well, it won't be the last time, if that old lady stays here; there's
+good enough in me, if people only knew how to draw it out; she does,
+that's the amount of it. I wish my tongue had been torn out before I
+made fun of her; I felt worse when she said 'thank you,' so civil, than
+as if she had struck me with that rolling-pin; she's one of the Bible
+sort; there ain't many of 'em; she'll go to heaven, she will."
+
+"Well, let her go, I'm willing," said Patty, "now sing us the rest of
+'Rosy-cheeked Molly.'"
+
+"Oh, I can't," said the cook, breaking down at the end of the first
+verse, "I wish you would just stir that custard while I run up with this
+rocking-chair to that old lady; there's nothing on earth but a cricket
+in that room for her to sit on."
+
+"You'd better not," said Patty, "Mrs. Howe said we weren't one of us to
+do nothing for them folks up stairs, no how."
+
+"For all that, I shall," said the cook, shouldering the chair; "I am not
+afraid of Mrs. Howe; I know my value. She wouldn't part with me for her
+eyes, first because she likes my cooking, and second, because Mrs.
+Flynn, whom she hates, wants to get me away from her; so now;" and up
+stairs she trudged, with the rocking-chair.
+
+"P-h-e-w! there's some difference between that garret and this kitchen,"
+said Nancy, when she returned, "both as to distance, and as to
+accommodations in 'em," said she, looking round upon the plentiful
+supply of viands. "I begin to think that young girl up there, and her
+baby, are awful misused; I don't believe Mrs. Howe's story about her;
+she don't look as if she wasn't clever."
+
+"Well, you'd better not say so," said Patty; "it is always my rule never
+to burn my fingers pulling other folks' pies out of the oven."
+
+"I should think so," said Nancy, "just smell that pastry burning now;
+that rule won't work in this kitchen, any how; if Mrs. Howe comes home,
+she'll be sure to scent it on the front door step, she has _such_ a
+nose."
+
+
+"So you think the little boy will get along?" asked Mrs. Bond, following
+the doctor out into the entry.
+
+"Oh, yes, madam, with time, and careful nursing; though he would stand a
+better chance if he had a larger apartment; these attics are bad for
+sick people. His mother appears to be quite worn out."
+
+"She's young yet," said the old lady, desirous of attributing Rose's
+distress mainly to her anxiety for Charley; "she has had little
+experience."
+
+The doctor would have liked to know more about his patients, but he had
+too much delicacy to ask questions; and placing a new recipe in Mrs.
+Bond's hand, he withdrew, musing, as he went down the stairs, on the
+many painful phases of life to which his profession introduced him, and
+which his skill was powerless to remedy.
+
+Mrs. Bond kissed Rose and Charley, tenderly, as she bade them good-by,
+for she could not leave her own household over night; and with a promise
+to come again, and an entreaty to the tearful Rose to bear up, she took
+a reluctant leave.
+
+She would like to have seen Mrs. Howe before leaving the house, but
+Patty told her she had not yet returned. As she went through the front
+entry, she met Mr. Howe returning to dinner.
+
+"Good-day, sir; I am glad to see you before I go; I have only a word;
+you will take it from an old lady who means well: The baby and its
+mother, sir--'As ye would that others should do unto you, do ye even so
+to them;'" and with a gentle pressure of his hand, she smiled, bowed,
+and went out.
+
+"'As--ye--would--do--unto--them!' What does she mean?" said Mr. Howe. "I
+supposed they were comfortable enough. Mrs. Howe told me so. She said
+they had a room and every thing they needed. Mrs. Howe likes to manage
+things her own way, and I let her," said the easy man, hanging his coat
+on the peg; "but if they are not comfortable, that's another thing. That
+old lady meant something. I must look into it--after dinner; I am too
+hungry now."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+
+Mrs. Howe returned with the lilac hat in her possession, and her purse
+lighter by some scores of dollars. She had also a new Honiton pelerine,
+a thirty-dollar _mouchoir_, and a gold bracelet, all of which she spread
+out upon the silken coverlet of her bed, walking round and round it,
+with very unequivocal glances of admiration.
+
+"Has that old woman gone?" she asked, as Patty answered the bell.
+
+"Yes, ma'am; just gone, and desired her respects to you."
+
+"Well, her room is better than her company. Hand me my wine-colored
+brocade, Patty, from the wardrobe, a pair of silk stockings, and my
+black satin slippers. Now give me my frilled under-sleeves. Dinner going
+on, Patty? I thought I smelt something burning as I came in; perhaps it
+was only my fancy."
+
+"I am sure it was, ma'am--the pies has had a lovely bake, and so has the
+custards and puddings."
+
+"I hope Nancy put vanilla in her custards," said Mrs. Howe. "Tell her I
+want wine in the pudding-sauce; and tell her to strew grapes over the
+dishes of oranges."
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"And, Patty?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"Tell Betty--where's my other slipper? Oh! here it is--tell Betty--did
+you take down my wine-colored brocade, Patty?--tell Betty--it's no
+matter, Patty; I don't know what I was going to tell you."
+
+Patty had nearly closed the door, when she again heard her name called.
+
+"I've just thought what I wanted to say, Patty: did you clean the
+silver, this morning?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"And wash the parlor looking-glass?"
+
+"You told me not to do that, ma'am."
+
+"Oh! so I did. Where's my other under-sleeve? Gracious! you burned a
+hole in it, ironing it. Oh, no; it is a fuzz of black silk sticking to
+it. There, do go along, Patty; I want to dress;" and the fussy Mrs. Howe
+locked the door, and gave herself up to the undisturbed contemplation of
+her new Honiton pelerine and gold bracelet.
+
+
+Dinner had been satisfactorily discussed, and Mrs. Howe sat back in her
+cushioned chair to the work of digestion, and self-appreciation, while
+John retired to smoke.
+
+A visitor is announced. (_Enter Mrs. Flynn._)
+
+The usual very sincere compliments, were tossed shuttle-cock fashion
+from one lady to the other, Mrs. Howe, meanwhile, losing no opportunity
+to display her new bracelet and settle the folds of her new pelerine,
+which Mrs. Flynn persistently declined observing.
+
+"I am _so_ tired," groaned Mrs. Howe, at length; "if I am stupid, my
+dear creature, you really must pardon me, for I have been at Du Pont's
+all the morning. I bought a few trifles of her, this pelerine, only
+forty dollars, and this cheap bracelet for fifty. Du Pont never is easy
+till I give her my opinion of her new millinery."
+
+"She prefers the opinion of one qualified, by experience, to be a
+judge," said the vexed Flynn, alluding to Dolly's former chrysalis
+state.
+
+Mrs. Howe bit her lip, and pulling the _mouchoir_ from her pocket, said,
+"I forgot to show you this seventy-five dollar handkerchief. I did not
+need any _common_ handkerchiefs, but I bought this to please Du Pont."
+
+"I fancied I had seen that, as well as your pelerine and bracelet at
+Mrs. Gardiner's party last winter," said the fibbing, irritating Flynn.
+
+"Last winter!"--screamed Mrs. Howe--"my dear creature, I wouldn't wear
+the same garter two winters."
+
+"O, I must have been thinking of somebody else; pardon me, dear, my
+memory is _so_ bad. What kind of servants have you, dear? I am so
+plagued with servants."
+
+"I have no trouble," replied Mrs. Howe, folding her hands complacently
+over her pelerine, "for I always pay the highest prices." The rising
+flush on Flynn's face announced this to be a dead shot.
+
+Taking breath again, however, she came gallantly to the rescue.
+
+"Yes my dear creature, but they are all alike about gossiping; now our
+Margy, came to me with a long story about a baby which she declares she
+saw up in your attic, and a young girl, beautiful as an angel, tending
+it, and an old woman, and a young doctor, and goodness knows what. I
+told her it was all nonsense, sheer nonsense, for of course you would
+have spoken of it had there been a baby in your house; did you ever hear
+such stuff?" asked Flynn, with a triumphant air.
+
+"Never," replied the exasperated Mrs. Howe, stooping to settle her
+bracelet to conceal her vexation; "I never heed what they say."
+
+"Of course not," said Flynn, who having accomplished her mission, was
+now ready to depart, before the enemy rallied sufficiently to charge
+back. "Call and see me, my dear creature; intimate friends like us
+should not stand upon ceremony. O, I forgot to tell you Finels called on
+me yesterday. Bon jour;" and Flynn made good her retreat with flying
+colors.
+
+"Spiteful creature!" said Mrs. Howe, "she knows she never saw that
+pelerine, or bracelet, or _mouchoir_, before this morning. I shall go
+mad. And that baby business, too; if she had not floored me so
+unexpectedly on that, I could have said a few things that would have
+shut her mouth. I know that an own cousin of her husband is servant-man
+at Mr. Jenks's; but my bright thoughts never come till afterward. Yes, I
+will go and see her, as she requested. She shall hear of it yet, and
+then we will see. Finels call on _her_! Finels requires _mind_ in a
+female friend," and Dolly turned to the "marked passages" for
+consolation.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+
+"Bless my soul! you don't mean to say you have been up _here_ all this
+time, Rose?" asked John, throwing open the door of the attic. "Why,
+bless my soul! Mrs. Howe told me that you were fixed very comfortable,
+and all that. I did not know any thing about it," said the penitent
+John, gazing at Charley's pale face. "This won't do; you must go down
+stairs. Why, bless my soul! you _shall_ go down stairs," and before Rose
+could reply, John had called Patty.
+
+"Look here," said John, "take all those medicines and traps down into
+the best spare chamber, and bring up a blanket to wrap the baby in; for
+these folks are going down stairs."
+
+"But, Mrs. Howe, sir, said that none of us was to wait on 'em on no
+account, sir, and I--"
+
+"Do what I tell you," said John, "down with these medicines, quick. Why,
+bless me," he muttered, looking around, "no carpet on the floor,
+no--why--bless me--" and the good-natured John looked from Rose to the
+baby, and from the baby to Rose, and at last stooped and gave Charley an
+atoning kiss.
+
+"Had you not better let us stay where we are?" asked Rose, wishing to
+avert from the head of her _pro tem._ protector the storm she knew would
+be sure to burst upon it. "I am very sorry that Charley was taken sick
+here, and that we have been so much trouble to you; very sorry that
+I"--and Rose's voice began to tremble.
+
+"You need not be sorry for any thing at all, any thing," said the
+distressed John, "so, don't cry, it is a burning sha--well--never mind;
+give me that little fellow, and follow me down stairs. Why, bless my
+soul! no carpet on the floor--no--I had no idea of it."
+
+"There now, Patty," said he, facing that astonished damsel, "go fill
+that ewer with fresh water, and don't wait for these folks to ring to
+find out whether they want any thing or not."
+
+Patty stared at him as if she thought he were drunk or dreaming.
+
+"D'ye hear?" said John.
+
+"Y--e--s, s--i--r," said Patty, leaving her mouth wide open after this
+reply, as though there were several little remarks she might make, if
+she only dared.
+
+Ah, well might little Charley open his wondering eyes at the crimson
+silk bed-curtains, looped away over his cherub head. He had never lain
+on so dainty a bed of roses as was embroidered on that gorgeous
+coverlet; and as Rose sank down beside him into one of those
+luxuriously-cushioned chairs, and laid her beautiful head back, with her
+finely-chiseled profile relieved against its crimson damask, John
+thought how well both mother and child became their new surroundings.
+
+Yes, Rose's picture should have been taken at that moment, with her
+unbound tresses, and her little hands crossed in her lap in such dreary
+hopelessness. But when was she not a picture? and what has beauty ever
+brought its possessor, but a broken heart?
+
+
+"You will see the end of this," said Patty, to the cook, laying her
+forefinger mysteriously on the bridge of her nose. "You will see what's
+what, when Mrs. Howe comes home; those folks will be tramped back into
+the attic in double quick time."
+
+"What will you bet on that?" said Nancy; "men get tired after awhile of
+being led by the nose. I will bet you that pair of gold ear-rings you
+have been hankering after, that they will stay where they are."
+
+"Done!" exclaimed Patty, "and I will bet you my new silk apron, with the
+satin pockets, that they go back in the attic in less than twenty-four
+hours from now. Hark! there comes Mrs. Howe home this minute; now we
+shall see;" and Patty set the kitchen door wide open, that no sound
+might escape her.
+
+John was pacing up and down the library, whither he had retired, after
+moving Rose into the best spare chamber. He was naturally a
+good-hearted fellow, but his constitutional indolence had made him a
+willing slave of his crafty, designing wife. John hated nothing so much
+as trouble. Inch after inch of ground he had yielded to the enemy,
+rather than contend for its possession. Now that the excitement of his
+late involuntary declaration of independence was over, he began to
+reflect upon the probable consequences, to listen nervously for the
+door-bell; in fact, he felt very much more like running away than
+"facing the music."
+
+He had done penance before now, by drinking muddy coffee, eating
+half-boiled potatoes, raw meat, and smoky puddings. He had groaned under
+three weeks of sulks, with which Mrs. Howe had been afflicted, on
+account of what she considered his conjugal misdemeanors. He had missed
+his business memorandum-book for days together; been obliged to go out
+the back door, instead of the front; had stood on one leg three quarters
+of an hour at a friend's house, whither he had escorted Mrs. Howe to a
+party, waiting for that lady to rejoin him to enter the drawing-room;
+she, meanwhile, reclining composedly in an arm-chair in the ladies'
+dressing-room, leisurely enjoying the penance she was inflicting. He had
+been called _out_ of the party at an early hour, to wait upon her
+ladyship home, merely because he seemed to be enjoying it; he had slept
+with the window open when it was cold, and slept with it shut when it
+was hot. No wonder John felt a little nervous.
+
+
+"There it is--there it is," said Patty, rubbing her hands, "there's the
+bell for me," and up she ran, confident of winning the coveted gold
+ear-rings.
+
+"Patty?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+Mrs. Howe's face was pale with rage as, beckoning Patty to follow her,
+she pointed through the open door of the best chamber at Rose and the
+baby, to whom she had not deigned to speak.
+
+"It was Mr. Howe's doings, ma'am. I told him you would be angry, and so
+I didn't want to have no hand in it, but Lor', ma'am, he made me; it
+wasn't no fault of mine, because I know'd it was agin' your wishes, and
+so I made bold to tell him, ma'am."
+
+"Hold your tongue. Take those messes (pointing to the medicines) up into
+the attic, and then come back and get that baby."
+
+Rose clasped Charley closer to her bosom, for Mrs. Howe's face was
+demoniac in its rage.
+
+"Out with you," said Mrs. Howe, taking Rose by the shoulder and pointing
+to the door.
+
+"Patty."
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"You see now," said that amiable lady, locking the door of the spare
+room, and putting the key into her pocket, "whom you are to mind--who
+is master in this house--do you? Go down into the kitchen."
+
+"There--didn't I tell you so?" asked the triumphant Patty of the
+crest-fallen cook; "now for my gold ear-rings."
+
+"Not that you know of," said Nancy.
+
+"What do you mean? Didn't you say that if--"
+
+"I said," said Nancy, crossing her two stubby forefingers, "that I would
+bet you that pair of gold ear-rings you wanted, that _they would stay
+where they were_; meaning that the ear-rings would stay where they
+were--in the jeweler's shop."
+
+"It is right down mean," said the pouting Patty; "see if I am not even
+with you before the week is out."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+
+Poor Rose sat down in her old quarters, with Charley in her lap, trying
+to read in his pale face the probable duration of his sickness. Poor
+little fellow! he did not like the change. He missed the sheen of the
+pretty satin curtains, and the glitter of their gilded cornices. They
+were something for baby eyes to wonder and look at. He had quite
+exhausted those ugly attic walls, hung with the cook's dingy wardrobe.
+Even the pretty sunbeams in which babies love to see the little motes
+glitter and float, had been jealously excluded by the tyrannical Aunt
+Dolly; so poor Charley had nothing to do but roll his little restless
+head from side to side, and whimper.
+
+Ah, there is something now to look at! The door creaks on its hinges,
+and an old crone, bent almost double, her nose and chin meeting, totters
+in, leaning on a stick. A striped cotton handkerchief thrown over her
+spare gray locks, and tied under her chin, and an old shawl over her
+cotton gown, complete her wardrobe.
+
+At any other time this little weird figure, appearing so suddenly,
+would have terrified Rose; now her despairing thoughts had crowded out
+every other feeling, so she sat quite still as the old woman hobbled,
+mumbling, toward her.
+
+"Why, Maria! there now. I _knew_ you were not dead. I told them so, but
+they would not believe a word I said. You look as sweet as a lily. Where
+is your husband, dear? and little Rose? and all of 'em, and every body?
+I can't find any body I want to see. I am so tired and lonely. Don't
+_you_ go away now, Maria. Did you buy that little doll for me to play
+with?" she asked, catching sight of Charley. "It opens and shuts its
+eyes, don't it dear, just like the waxen dolls? I like
+it--chut--chut--chut," and the old lady touched Charley under the chin
+with her wrinkled fingers. "Pull the wire and make the doll laugh again,
+dear," she said, looking up in Rose's face. "I would like it to play
+with. I get _so_ tired, _so_ tired. I stole away to-day; Dolly didn't
+know it. Do you know Dolly? does Dolly strike _you_? What made you stay
+away such a long time, Maria? Let us go to your house. I don't like to
+be locked up in Dolly's house. I get _so_ tired, _so_ tired--dearie
+me--dearie me--where's little Rose, Maria?"
+
+Rose did not answer, for a fight was struggling dimly through her brain.
+She remembered long years ago, when she first came to Dolly's, that an
+old woman came there, not so bent as this old crone was now, but yet
+gray haired and wrinkled, and that Dolly spoke harshly to her, and tried
+to make her go away, and that the old lady cried, and said it was cold
+at the poor house, and that she was hungry, and then Dolly said she
+would give her a small piece of money, and something to eat, if she
+would promise never to come there again; and that Dolly sent her (Rose)
+into the kitchen till the old lady was gone, but that she had heard all
+they said through the thin green baize door.
+
+"Maria? why don't you speak? where is little Rose?"
+
+"Is not this little Rose?" asked Rose, compassionately, as she pointed
+to Charley.
+
+"Sure enough," said the pleased old lady; "I thought it was a doll--sure
+enough--why--I shall find 'em all by and by, who knows?--But--Maria, why
+don't it grow any? it is just as little as it was when I saw it
+last--where did I see it last, Maria?--chut--chut--chut--" she said,
+tickling Charley's chin again. "Maria? you won't go away again, will
+you?--_you_ won't strike me, will you? I'll be very good. Can't I stay
+here, dear, with you, and the little doll, little Rose? Why don't it
+grow bigger, Maria? Are you hungry? I am hungry--oh, dearie me--dearie
+me--"
+
+"Dear, dear grandmother," sobbed Rose, "I love you."
+
+"Love me! do you! what for? did Dolly make you cry too? Maria, where's
+Rose? Maria, what makes you call your mother grandmother? Do you know
+Dolly? Dolly is down stairs; I don't go down stairs. See here," and she
+touched her old faded gown and shawl, "I can't, you see, Dolly wouldn't
+like it. Oh! dearie me--dearie me! I am _so_ tired," and the old lady
+laid her wrinkled face against her granddaughter's.
+
+
+"Voices! and in Rose's room! what new treason now?" and Mrs. Howe
+applied her ear to the key-hole. The thin gray locks rested lovingly on
+Rose's glossy auburn tresses. Rose's arm was about her withered neck,
+and tears fell trickling from her eyes. It was a sweet picture; but the
+artist might have found a foil to it, in the demoniac face outside the
+door.
+
+Ah! Rose, the hated Rose, in possession of her secret! Her face grew
+darker--deadlier. But perhaps she was not _yet_ in possession of it; not
+a moment was to be lost.
+
+Opening the door, she said, coaxingly, "Why, Betty, are you in here?
+This won't do. What will the doctor say? You must go back to bed,
+Betty," and Dolly fixed her basilisk eyes on her cowering victim, who
+nestled more closely to Rose.
+
+"Poor crazed thing," said Mrs. Howe, "she imagines every body is going
+to hurt her; by and by she will think so of you. She may kill Charley. I
+ought to send her to the Lunatic Asylum; but she is an old servant who
+used to live in Mr. Howe's family, and so I keep her, though she is so
+troublesome. Come, Betty!"
+
+"Maria!" whispered the old lady, hoarsely, clutching at Rose's
+dress--"Maria, tell her _you_ love me, Maria."
+
+"I do--I do!" sobbed Rose, unable to restrain herself, as she threw her
+arms around her.
+
+"Love that lunatic? What should you love her for, I'd like to know?"
+asked the startled Dolly.
+
+"Because she is my grandmother--my own dear grandmother. Oh Aunt Dolly!
+hate me, if you will, but love her; she will not live long to trouble
+any body," and Rose kissed the furrowed temples and stroked back the
+thin gray locks.
+
+"Well, if I ever!" said Dolly, looking innocent; "I believe the whole
+world is going mad! Come along, Betty."
+
+"Maria! Maria!" whispered the old lady, again nestling up to Rose.
+
+"There, you see, she is quite out; she fancies you are somebody she has
+seen before."
+
+"No--she takes me for Maria, my mother," said Rose; "you say that I look
+like her exactly."
+
+"Come along, Betty!" said the infuriated Mrs. Howe. "Mother and
+grandmother! you are both as mad as March hares," and seizing "Betty" by
+the arm, she drew her across the entry into her own den, and turning
+the key on her, put it in her pocket, and went down into the
+dining-room.
+
+We have no desire to record her reflections as she sat down to "Moses in
+the Bulrushes," upon which she had already expended pounds and pounds of
+German worsted, and who, if ever found by his mother "Miriam," would
+scarcely have been recognized.
+
+
+John was in his arm-chair reading the _Daily Bulletin_. He was perfectly
+aware of the late overthrow of his domestic authority by Dolly; not that
+it was by any means the first instance of the kind, but the others had
+been known to no third party. He trusted for the perpetuity of the
+declaration of domestic independence which he had lately set up, to its
+being made publicly before the servants. Mistaken man! Dolly's pride lay
+in a different direction. Well, it was all over now; he only wondered in
+his cool moments how he had ever been so mad as to attempt to make Rose
+more comfortable; but let no man ever say what he will or will not do
+till he has seen a pretty woman in tears.
+
+Still, John had a rod in pickle for Dolly; his publicly-wounded pride
+must have some satisfaction. He saw by the gleam of her eye, as she sat
+down to Moses, that she was that morning particularly deficient in his
+"meekness." It was a good chance. John cleared his throat, preparatory
+to improving it.
+
+"Oh, I forgot to tell you, Mrs. Howe," said he, laying down his
+newspaper, as if a sudden thought had struck him, "Finels asked me the
+other day who Rose was?"
+
+"Finels! Finels!" screamed Mrs. Howe, sticking her needle vigorously
+into Moses, "how came Finels to see Rose?"
+
+John's eyes gleamed. "When I waited upon him to the door the other day,
+Rose was just passing through the entry, with a pitcher of water."
+
+"Just like her, and I told her expressly to go down the back stairs."
+
+"But the carpenter was fixing the back stairs, that day," said John,
+"she couldn't pass, I suppose."
+
+"I don't suppose any such thing," said Mrs. Howe, "she did it on
+purpose; I know she did. Well, what did Finels say of her?"
+
+"He said she had the loveliest eyes he ever saw, and that her face was
+without a flaw."
+
+"What o'clock is it?" asked Mrs. Howe, in a husky voice.
+
+"Just one," said John, "Why?"
+
+"What time does the stage go to Exeter?"
+
+"Three, I believe."
+
+"Believe! don't you know?"
+
+"Yes, I know it goes at three."
+
+"Well, go and order it here at our door by that time. Rose shall go back
+to old Bond this very day; I won't stand it."
+
+"Is the baby well enough?" asked John, not looking for this painful
+termination to his little bit of connubial fun.
+
+"I don't care whether it is or not; if you don't get that stage, I
+will."
+
+"I'll get it," said John, "but--"
+
+"There's no but about it, I tell you she shall go, if that child dies on
+the road; that's all there is to that," and Mrs. Howe went up stairs to
+inform Rose of her determination.
+
+Rose had just succeeded in lulling the restless baby to sleep upon her
+bosom. Upon Mrs. Howe's violent bang of the door after entering the
+room, he uttered a loud, frightened cry.
+
+"Stop that child, will you?" said Mrs. Howe, "I have something to say to
+you."
+
+The quick blood rushed to Rose's face, as she nestled Charley to her
+bosom.
+
+"It is now one o'clock," said Mrs. Howe, drawing out her gold watch,
+with its glittering chain and trinkets; "the stage will be at the door
+to take you to Exeter, at three o'clock precisely. Do you understand?"
+said she, as Rose bent an anxious glance at the sick baby's face.
+
+"I will be ready," said Rose, in a trembling voice.
+
+This mild, acquiescent reply was not what Mrs. Howe desired; she would
+have preferred something upon which to hinge her pent-up wrath.
+
+"How came that rocking-chair up here, I should like to know?"
+
+"Betty brought it up for old Mrs. Bond."
+
+"Likely story; and Betty told you, I suppose, to parade yourself through
+the front entry, when Mr. Howe was talking with a gentleman; I know your
+tricks. I should think you had had enough of _gentlemen_ to last you one
+while."
+
+"The carpenter was--"
+
+"Don't talk to me about 'carpenters;' where there is a will there is a
+way; you might have waited for the water."
+
+"It was to mix Charley's medicine," said Rose, with brimming eyes.
+
+"I dare say--such things don't go down with me; pick up your things
+quick and get ready."
+
+Rose attempted to lay Charley down on the bed, but he began to cry most
+piteously.
+
+"There is no need of your stopping for him now; he might as well cry for
+one thing as another; he is always crying, I am sick to death of hearing
+him; he is perfectly spoiled."
+
+"He is sick," said Rose, stooping to kiss Charley as if he could be
+pained by Mrs. Howe's heartlessness.
+
+"Well--any how, I am sick of both of you; so hurry, and don't think you
+are going to stay, because it is beginning to sprinkle," said she,
+drawing carefully aside one corner of the cook's petticoat as she
+peered out the window--"come, make haste now," and Aunt Dolly swept
+down stairs.
+
+Poor afflicted Mrs. Howe! Flynn had robbed the pelerine and bracelet of
+their power to charm, and the "marked passages" no longer gave her
+consolation, for Finels had admired Rose's eyes. Consuelo, too, lies
+wheezing in his embroidered blanket; dear little Consuelo! it could not
+be that _he_ was going to be sick! And Mrs. Howe takes him up gently,
+strokes his long silken ears, looks into his eyes, and offers him some
+food, which the pampered little cur refuses.
+
+A scrambling in the blanket!
+
+Consuelo is in a fit!
+
+So is his mistress.
+
+"O, John, for heaven's sake, run for Thomas, he knows all about dogs.
+Supposing he should die? O dear--make haste; my darling, my darling!"
+and Mrs. Howe ran up stairs, and ran down stairs, ran for water, and ran
+for physic, opened the windows, and shut them, pulled round Betty, and
+Sally, and Bridget, and threatened the whole crew, unless they helped
+Consuelo, to turn them all out of doors. And then Thomas came, and
+manipulated Consuelo as only his humbug-ship knew how, and restored the
+convalescent jewel to its mistress, who wept with delight, and crossed
+his palm with a five-dollar gold piece, and then Thomas retired, calling
+down blessings on all over-fed puppies in particular, and credulous
+women in general.
+
+And Rose!
+
+She crept down stairs as well as her tears would let her, stopping to
+kneel before the door through which the wailing "dearie me--dearie me,"
+was issuing.
+
+Wrapping Charley in the only shawl she owned, to defend him from the
+falling rain, she clambered unassisted, up into the stage. The
+passengers growled when they saw the baby; the rain spattered on the
+roof, and windows, and the coachman slamming to the door with an oath,
+cracked his whip, and the stage rolled away.
+
+What pen can do justice to the atmosphere of a stage, omnibus, or
+railroad car, of a rainy day?
+
+The fumes of alternate whisky and onions, the steaming, cigar-odored
+coats, the dirty straw soaking under foot, a deluge if you open the
+window, poison by inhalation if you do not. Charley became more and more
+restless, while Rose grew still paler, and the drops stood on her
+forehead, in dread of his prolonged cry.
+
+"I think he will be good with me; let me take him, please," pleaded a
+sweet voice at her side.
+
+Rose turned, and saw a lady dressed in black, whom she had not before
+noticed, extending her arms for Charley. Her face was sufficient to win
+confidence, and Rose accepted her offer. Handling him as only an
+experienced hand can handle a babe, she changed him with perfect ease
+from side to side, laid him now up on her shoulder, now down on her
+lap, without the slightest appearance of discomfort to herself.
+
+Rose looked the thanks she could not speak; then, stupified with
+exhaustion and sorrow, she leaned back in the dark corner where she sat,
+and closed her eyes.
+
+The lady made no attempt to draw her into conversation, but gazed
+lovingly upon Charley's face. Living sorrows, she had none; but on a
+little tombstone in a church yard far away, the stranger's foot paused
+as he read:
+
+"OUR FRANK!"
+
+Oh, how many visions of home joys and home sorrows, did those two little
+words call up!
+
+_Our_ Frank! More than one heart had bled when that little tombstone was
+reared, and though the hands which placed it there were far away, yet
+the little grave had ever its garland, or its wreath, for even stranger
+eyes involuntarily dropped tears, when they read,
+
+"OUR FRANK."
+
+And so Frank's mother sat gazing on Charley's little cherub face, and
+wondering what grief a _mother_ could know, with her _breathing_ babe
+beside her.
+
+Pity us, oh God! for every heart knoweth its own bitterness, and a
+stranger intermeddleth not therewith.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+
+"What is that?" exclaimed old Mrs. Bond, as she saw the stage, dimly,
+through the pelting rain, plowing through the clayey mud, up the steep
+hill toward her door. "Somebody must be coming here, else the driver
+would have taken the easier cut to the village," and she pressed her
+face closer against the moist window-pane to get a clearer view.
+
+"It is going to stop here, sure as the world," she exclaimed. "Who can
+be coming a visiting in such a rain as this? It is not time for old
+Cousin Patty, these three months yet."
+
+"Dear heart," she said, as the driver jumped off his box, and opened the
+stage-door, "if it isn't Rose, and that sick baby! Dear heart--dear
+heart, it is as much as its life is worth. I hope I shall have grace to
+forgive that woman, but I don't know, I don't know; who could have
+believed it?" and by this time, the baby was handed into her
+outstretched arms, and Rose stepped dripping across the threshold.
+
+"Cry, dear--do cry. I am going to cry myself. It is dreadful hard." And
+she drew the chairs up to the fire, and gazed by its light into Rose's
+brimming eyes and Charley's pale face.
+
+"May God forgive her," she said, at last; "can't you say it, dear?
+Try."
+
+Rose answered by pointing to Charley.
+
+"I know it, dear heart; I know it; but you remember the 'crown of
+thorns,' and the mocking 'sponge,' and the cruel 'spear,'" said the old
+lady, struggling down her own incensed feelings.
+
+"Take Charley now, dear, he is quite warm, while I run and make you a
+cup of hot tea," and the old lady piled fresh wood upon the huge
+andirons, and drew out her little tea-table, stopping now to wipe her
+eyes, now to kiss Rose and the baby, and whispering, "Try, dear, do; it
+will make you feel happier; try."
+
+The cheerful warmth of the fire, and Mrs. Bond's motherly kindness,
+brought a little color into Rose's pale face, and Charley kicked his
+little cold toes out of his frock, and winked his eyes at the crackling
+blaze, as if to say,
+
+"Now, this is something like."
+
+After tea, Rose narrated to Mrs. Bond the visit of the old crone to her
+attic, and expressed her firm belief that she was Dolly's mother.
+
+This was even worse in Mrs. Bond's eyes than Mrs. Howe's cruelty to
+Rose, and not trusting herself to speak, she gave vent to her feelings
+by alternately raising her hands and eyes to heaven.
+
+"There will be a sad reckoning-day--a sad reckoning-day, dear," said the
+old lady solemnly. "He that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor
+sleep."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+
+It was Monday morning. Mrs. Bond's little kitchen was full of the steam
+of boiling clothes. Little Charley, with one of Mrs. Bond's long calico
+aprons pinned over his frock, was pursuing on all fours his infantile
+investigations.
+
+On the bench before the door stood two wash-tubs, at one of which stood
+a strapping Irish girl with red arms and petticoats, scrubbing the
+plowman's clothes with superhuman energy. At the other stood Rose, her
+curls knotted up on the back of her head, her sleeves rolled up above
+her round, white elbows, and her calico skirt pinned away from one of
+the prettiest ankles in the world; even this homespun attire could not
+disguise her beauty.
+
+Three hours, by the old-fashioned clock in the corner, she had stood
+there; and yet, though she had rubbed the skin from her little hands,
+the pile of clothes before her seemed scarcely to have diminished, owing
+partly to her unskillfulness, and partly that she was obliged to leave
+off every few minutes to extricate Charley from some scrape with the
+shovel, tongs, or poker, or to barricade some door through which he
+seemed quite determined to go; added to this, her heart was very heavy,
+and one's fingers are apt to keep time with the heart pulses.
+
+Oh, where was Vincent? Would he never return, as he had promised? Was he
+still "at his father's dying bed?" How strange she did not hear from
+him. How strange he had not told her where he was. He loved her? Oh,
+yes--"more than all the world beside." Had he not told her so? He could
+not have deserted her? Oh--no--no--and yet, poor Rose, there was such a
+weary pain at her heart; but see, there is Charley again, little
+mischief, between the andirons. Rose wipes the suds from her hands, and
+runs to extricate him for the twentieth time. She pats him petulantly;
+the boy does not cry, but he looks up at her with his father's eyes.
+Rose kisses those eyes; she dashes away her tears, and goes back again
+to her work. She tries to believe it will be all right. Mrs. Bond comes
+in to make the pudding for dinner. She sees how little progress Rose is
+making, and though Rose does her best to hide them, she sees the
+tell-tale tears, trembling on her long eyelashes.
+
+Mrs. Bond has the best heart in the world; she never treads on the
+little ant-houses in the gravel walks, she says the robins have earned a
+right to the cherries by keeping the insects from the trees, she has
+turned veterinary surgeon to keep the breath of life in an old skeleton
+of a horse which Zedekiah "vowed oughter been shot long ago," she puts
+crumbs on the piazza for the ground birds, and is very careful to
+provide for the motherly yellow cat a soft bed. The peddler always is
+sure of a warm cup of tea, and the wooden-ware man of a bit of cheese or
+pie. Rose's tears make her quite miserable, so she says to Bridget, in
+her soft kind way, "I should think _you_ might help wash the baby's
+clothes, Bridget."
+
+"Not for the likes of her," retorted the vixen, with her red arms
+a-kimbo. "Thank the Virgin, _I_ am an honest woman."
+
+Rose snatched Charley from the floor and darted through the open door,
+with the fleetness of a deer; not weary now; strong to bear any thing,
+every thing but that coarse, cruel taunt. Away!--away from it! but
+where? Oh, Vincent, will it always follow! Strong, is she? Poor Rose!
+She falls earthward with her tender burden. Charley utters a cry of pain
+as his temples strike a sharp stone. Rose heeds not his cry, for she is
+insensible.
+
+When her consciousness returns, some two hours after, she finds herself
+in her own little bed, with Mrs. Bond beside her. There are phials upon
+the table, and a strong smell of camphor; a bandage is around her
+forehead, and the blinds are closed, and Charley is not there, but she
+hears him crowing below stairs. Mrs. Bond puts her finger on her lip,
+and says, "Try to sleep, dear," and Rose gladly closes her eyes; she
+only wishes it were forever.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+
+"Six rows of the ruffling, edged with lace, and two tucks between each
+ruffle. Mind you don't make a mistake, now; had you not better write it
+down? You will remember to make the upper tuck about a fifth of an inch
+narrower than the others. Do it very nicely, you know I am particular
+about my work. Remember--let me have it, without fail, by next Thursday
+evening," and the speaker gathered her voluminous skirts in her hand and
+tripped through the door and into her carriage.
+
+"For good gracious' sake, who's that?" asked Miss Snecker.
+
+"Yes--who's that? Every body who sees her fine airs and gay dresses,
+asks me that question. I suppose you wouldn't believe if I should tell
+you what caterpillar that butterfly came from;" and Miss Bodkin put her
+feet upon the cricket, and took up the interminable yards of ruffling
+and commenced her work and her history.
+
+"Well--that's Mrs. Howe, and _how_ she ever became Howe, is more of a
+mystery to other people than it is to me.--'Mrs. John Howe'--a very
+well sounding name you see, but for all that it never can make a lady of
+her. 'Mrs. John Howe.' It used to be 'Dolly Smith;' it was 'Dolly Smith'
+much longer than its owner liked. It was painted in large, green letters
+over a little milliner's shop in Difftown. Such a fidget as it was in to
+get its name changed; but nobody seemed to want it. It tried the
+minister, it tried the deacon, it tried the poor, bony old sexton (mercy
+knows it never would have taken so much pains, had it known as much
+about men as I do), however, that's neither here nor there. It was a way
+it had. Well--by and by a shoe-maker from the city came up to our
+village for three weeks' fishing, and while he was baiting for fish,
+Dolly baited for him. She used to stand at the door of an evening, when
+he came up the village street, with his fishing tackle and basket; by
+and by he got to stopping a bit, to rest, and to buy a watch-ribbon and
+one thing and another, as a man naturally would, where he was sure of a
+welcome. Well, one evening when he came, Dolly was seized with a horrid
+cramp--I never had no faith in that cramp--such a fuss as she made.
+Well, John said he might be in the way, and so he would leave, till she
+was better. Simpleton! That was just what she didn't want him to do.
+Well, every body else round was sent flying for 'doctors and medicines,'
+and John staid through that cramp; and the next thing I heard, the
+bonnets was took down out of the shop, it was shut up, and that's the
+way Dolly Smith became Mrs. John Howe. Of course it don't set very well
+on me to have her come in here with her patronizing airs, to bring me
+her work to do; but a body must pocket their pride such hard times as
+these. I shall nurse my wrath, any way, till I get a little richer."
+
+"Well, I never!" exclaimed Miss Snecker, "how artful some women is! I
+suppose now she has every thing she wants, and has a beautiful time--the
+hateful creature."
+
+"Yes, she is rich enough," said Miss Bodkin, "her husband gave up the
+shoe business long ago. She is as stingy as she is rich; she beats me
+down to the lowest possible price for every stitch I do for her.
+
+"She was dreadful mortified about her niece Rose; suppose you know all
+about that? No! Well, Dolly took her when she was a little thing to
+bring up, as she said (the child was an orphan), and a poor sorry little
+drudge she made of her. She didn't have no childhood at all. She had a
+great faculty for reading, and wanted to devour every book she could
+get, which wasn't many, you may be sure, where Dolly was round. The
+child had no peace of her life, day nor night; was worried and hunted
+round like a wild beast.
+
+"After Dolly married, she sent Rose away to school, making a great talk
+about her 'generosity in giving her an eddication,' but the fact was,
+that Mr. Howe was younger than Dolly, and Rose was handsome: you see
+where the shoe pinched," said Miss Bodkin, giving Miss Snecker a nudge
+in the ribs.
+
+"Certain," said Miss Snecker; "well, what became of the girl?"
+
+"Well, Rose was handsome, as I told you, though she didn't know it, and
+good as she was handsome; but sad-like, for she never had any body to
+love her. I don't think she was sorry to leave her aunt, but still you
+know the world is a great wide cold place to push a young thing like
+that out into. However, she started off with her little trunk to Mrs.
+Graw's school.
+
+"Mrs. Graw used to be chambermaid to a real Count's wife, and as soon as
+she found out that Rose was a poor relation, she kinder trod her down,
+and the school-girls disliked her, because she was handsomer than they,
+and so she was miserable enough, till she made the acquaintance of
+Captain Vincent, who took her away from school, to be married, as he
+said, and then ran off and left her. Of course, her aunt was dreadful
+hard on her, and drove her almost crazy with her reproaches. She
+wouldn't believe any thing she said about her being really married; and
+was just as bitter as if she herself hadn't been man-hunting all her
+life.
+
+"_She_ held Rose off at arm's length, as if the poor betrayed child's
+touch were poison; shut her doors in her face, and all that; and why the
+poor thing didn't take to bad ways nobody knows. She went to a Lying-in
+Hospital, and staid there till the babe was born, and then there was a
+great noise, when it was found out how rich her aunt was; and when Mrs.
+Howe found out that people's tongues were wagging about it, she came
+forward and offered to pay her board in the country awhile.
+
+"Mrs. Howe herself lives up in St. John's Square. She is trying to ride
+into fashionable society with her carriage and liveried servants; and
+that poor girl so heart-broken.
+
+"Well, the Lord only knows what is going to become of poor Rose! Beauty
+and misery--beauty and misery--I've seen what came of that partnership
+before now."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX.
+
+
+Mrs. Bond had drank her cup of tea and eaten her one slice of toast.
+Rose had not yet come down to breakfast, and she hesitated to disturb
+her slumbers. So she put the tea-pot down by the fire, covered over the
+toast, and sat back in her great leathern chair.
+
+How beautiful they looked, Rose and the boy, the night before, when she
+crept in, shading her lamp with her hand, to see if they were
+comfortable. The boy's rosy cheek lay close to his mother's blue-veined
+breast, and one of his little dimpled arms was thrown carelessly about
+her neck. Rose with her long hair unbound vailing her neck and
+shoulders, the tears still glistening on her long lashes, heaving now
+and then a sigh that it was pitiful to hear.
+
+"Ah!" thought Mrs. Bond, "the father of the child should have looked in
+upon that scene! Those sighs, those tears, went they not up to heaven as
+swift witnesses against him?"
+
+And so Mrs. Bond, the previous night, extinguished her small lamp, and
+knelt by the bed-side; she prayed for those wronged sleepers from the
+gushing fullness of her Christian motherly heart. Poor children!--for
+what was Rose but a child?
+
+And now Mrs. Bond sat there over her breakfast-table thinking it all
+over. Her own life had been as placid as the little lake you could see
+from the cottage door; it was pitiful to her the storm of sorrow beating
+down upon that fair young head. She tried to see something bright in her
+future. She knew that though she herself had no wish beyond those humble
+walls, save to lie in the pleasant church-yard when her work was done,
+yet that life must be monotonous and dull there for one like Rose. She
+knew that the heart, when wretched and inactive, must prey upon itself.
+She wished she knew how to interest Rose in something. There was
+Charley, to be sure, dear little fellow, but he was at once a pain and a
+pleasure--a comfort and a reproach. Poor little lamb! he did not know
+why the caress he proffered was at one time so joyfully welcomed, then
+again repulsed with coldness; he did not know how cruelly the poor heart
+against which he nestled was rent with alternate hopes and fears; he did
+not know why he involuntarily hid his head from the strange, cold look,
+in those sometime--loving eyes.
+
+Mrs. Bond sat a long time thinking of all this; yes, very long, for an
+hour and a half was a great while for her to sit still of a morning. She
+thought she might as well creep up softly, and see if Rose were waking.
+She knocks gently--no answer; they still sleep, she must waken them.
+She opens the door--there is no one there but herself; the clothes have
+all gone from their pegs, and a note lies upon the table.
+
+Mrs. Bond takes her spectacles from their leathern case, and her hand
+trembles as she breaks the seal. It is in a delicate, beautiful hand.
+Her dim eyes can scarce see the small letters; her hand trembles too,
+for an indefinable fear has taken possession of her.
+
+The letter ran thus:--
+
+
+     "MOTHER,--
+
+     "For so I will call you always, even though I am going to leave
+     you. You thought I was sleeping when you knelt by my bed-side last
+     night, and prayed for Charley and me. Every word I heard
+     distinctly--every word was balm to my heart, and _yet_ I leave you.
+
+     Oh! do not ask me why--I love _him_, the father of my child--it is
+     life where he is, it is death where he is not. I go to seek him,
+     the wide earth over. What else is left me, when my heart wearies
+     even of _your_ kindness, wearies of poor Charley? Mother! pray for
+
+     "Your ROSE."
+
+
+Mrs. Bond did "pray," long and earnestly; she shed reproachful tears,
+too--good, motherly Mrs. Bond, that she had not done impossibilities.
+Would that none of us more needed forgiveness.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+
+The setting sun streamed in upon a parlor on St. John's Square. One
+might have mistaken it for an upholsterer's ware-room, so loaded was it
+with chairs, sofas, and _tête-à-têtes_, of every conceivable size and
+pattern. The same taste had hung the walls with pictures, whose
+coloring, perspectives, and foreshortening would have driven a true
+artist mad; the gaudy frames, with their elaborate gildings, being the
+magnet which had drawn the money from the pocket of the lady hostess.
+
+Distorted mythology, in various forms, looked down from little gilt
+roosts in the corners, peeped at you from under tables, stared at you
+from out niches. Books there were, whose principal merit was their
+"pretty binding," the exception to this being in the shape of a large
+Family Bible, splendidly bound, and on the present occasion
+ostentatiously placed on the center-table, for Mrs. Howe had at last a
+baby, and this was christening-day.
+
+Mrs. Howe had an idea that it was more exclusive and genteel to have
+this little ceremony performed in the house. There was to be a splendid
+christening--cake and wine, after the baptism, and only the
+appreciative select were to be present.
+
+Mrs. Howe had expended a small fortune on the baby's christening-cap and
+robe, not to speak of her own dress, which she considered, coiffure and
+tournure, to be unsurpassable; and now she was flying in and out, with
+that vulgar fussiness so common to your would-be-fine-lady; giving
+orders, and countermanding them in the same breath, screaming up stairs
+and down to the servants; at one moment foolishly familiar with them,
+and at the next reprehensibly severe; pulling the furniture this way and
+that, and making her servants as much trouble, and herself as red in the
+face as possible. "Dolly Smith," was too much for "Mrs. John Howe." St.
+John's Square had an odor of the milliner's shop.
+
+The baby slept as quietly as if it were not the heroine of the day; as
+if all the novels, and poems, and newspaper stories had not been
+ransacked for fitting appellations; as if its mother had not nudged its
+father in the ribs for fourteen consecutive nights, to know if "he had
+thought of any thing."
+
+Mr. John Howe! who had married on purpose to get _rid_ of thinking; who
+had no more sentiment than a stove funnel; who would not have cared had
+his baby been named Zerubbabel or Kerenhappuch; who was contented to let
+the world wag on in its own fashion, provided it did not meddle with his
+"pipe."
+
+Yes, Mr. Howe smoked "a pipe." Mrs. Howe got up several hysteric fits
+about it, but on that point only he was immovable, spite of
+smelling-salts and burned feathers. Finally, Mrs. Howe made up her mind
+to remove the odium by artistifying it, and with the sweetest conjugal
+smile presented him with an expensive chibouk, to take the place of that
+leveling clay pipe. She also added a crimson velvet smoking-cap, in
+which she declared he looked "as Oriental as a dervish."
+
+"Thunder!" exclaimed Mr. Howe, as he caught sight of himself in a glass,
+"you have made me look like that foreign fool of a conjuror we went to
+see the other evening, who turned eggs into watches. You don't expect me
+to wear this gimcrack?"
+
+Mrs. Howe whispered something in Mr. Howe's ear. Whatever it was, the
+effect was electrifying. Husband's have their weak points like other
+mortals. The smoking-cap was received into favor--so was the chibouk.
+
+In default of any preference of Mr. Howe's for the baby's name, Mrs.
+Howe had selected "Fenella Fatima Cecilia." It was written on a card,
+all ready for the Reverend Doctor Knott, who had the misfortune to be a
+little deaf, laid by the side of the gilt Bible, and held down to the
+table by an alabaster hand, with a _real_ diamond ring on the third
+finger.
+
+The baptismal basin was of silver, with two doves perched on the edges.
+The water to be used on the occasion, said to have come from the river
+Jordan, was in a state of preparedness in a corked bottle in the china
+closet.
+
+All the preparations were completed, but still the baby slept on. Mrs.
+Howe was rather glad than otherwise, partly because it gave her plenty
+of time to survey her new apparel in a full-length mirror, partly
+because the baby always had "such a pretty color in its cheeks when it
+first 'woke," and she wanted to carry it in when the flush was on.
+
+The last pin was adjusted in the maternal head-dress; the Reverend Dr.
+Knott had arrived, so had the appreciative select; Mr. Howe's cravat and
+waistcoat had been duly jerked into place by his wife, and now the baby
+"really must be woke." Mrs. Howe sprinkles a little jockey-club on Mr.
+Howe's handkerchief, takes one last lingering look in the mirror,
+readjusts a stray ribbon, changes the latitude of a gold head pin, then
+steps up to the rose-wood cradle, and draws aside the lace curtains.
+
+What a pity! There is no flush on the babe's face! and how very pale she
+looks! Mrs. Howe takes hold of the plump little waxen hand that lies out
+upon the coverlid. What is there in the touch of her own flesh and blood
+to blanch her lip and palsy her tongue?
+
+Ah! she can not face death, who could gaze with stony eyes on misery
+worse than death?
+
+"Vengeance is mine--I will repay, saith the Lord."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+
+"A stiff breeze, captain; we shall soon be in New Orleans at this rate.
+Talk about yellow fever; it can not be worse than sea-sickness. If a
+good appetite does not come to my rescue, on reaching land I shall pass
+for a live skeleton.
+
+"But, captain, who is this pretty stewardess you have on board? and you
+a family-man, too; eh, captain? And what child is that she has the care
+of? And what the deuce ails her?--so young and so sedate, so pretty and
+so uncome-atable! I don't understand it."
+
+"I don't know that it is necessary you should," said the old captain,
+dryly.
+
+"That's true enough; and if she were homely, she might sigh her soul out
+before my curiosity would be piqued; but a pretty woman in trouble is
+another thing, you know. I feel an immense desire to raise a smile on
+that pretty face, though it could hardly look more enchanting under any
+circumstances."
+
+"Look here, Fritz," said the captain; "while that young creature is
+aboard my ship, she is under my protection. Understand? Not that any of
+your coxcombical nonsense could make any impression on her, for her
+heart is heavy with sorrow of some kind, but I won't have her annoyed or
+insulted. I don't know her history myself, nor shall I ask to know; her
+post as stewardess is a mere sinecure, though she does not know it.
+
+"She came to me with that child in her arms, in great distress to get to
+New Orleans, and proposed herself as stewardess. I saw she was in
+trouble, somehow--young, beautiful, and unprotected; I have daughters
+just her age; I imagined them in a similar position. Her dignified
+modesty was a sufficient recommendation and guaranty. I knew she would
+be hurt at the offer of a _free_ passage, so I told her that I needed a
+second stewardess. That is all I know about her; and, as I said before,
+while she is aboard my ship, I will protect her as if she were my own
+child;" and the old man stowed away a tobacco-quid, and walked fore and
+aft the cabin, with a determined step.
+
+"Certainly," said the foiled Fritz; "your sentiments do you honor,
+captain. But I have not seen her for two or three days; is she sick?"
+
+"No; but the boy is, and I told her to let every thing go by the board,
+and attend to him till he was better. Beautiful child he is too; I have
+never seen a finer one. Doctor Perry thinks he will soon right him."
+
+"Doctor Perry!" exclaimed Fritz, with a spasm of jealousy; "it is my
+opinion he will make a long job curing that boy."
+
+"The doctor is not one of _your_ sort," said the captain; "her very
+defenselessness would be to him her surest shield. The doctor is a fine
+man, Mr. Fritz."
+
+"Yes, and young and unmarried," answered Fritz, with a prolonged
+whistle. "We shall see," said he, taking the captain's spy-glass to look
+at a vessel that was looming up in the distance.
+
+
+"Charley appears brighter to-day," said Rose to Doctor Perry. "Captain
+Lucas is very kind to me; but I am very anxious to get about to fulfill
+my engagements. Don't you think my boy will be well soon?"
+
+"There is every prospect of it," said Doctor Perry. "He is improving
+fast. I will stay by him, if you will allow me," said he, more anxious
+to give Rose a reprieve from the confined air of the cabin than
+solicitous for the "fulfillment of her engagements."
+
+"Thank you," replied Rose, in her usual grave tone, without raising her
+eyes; "but I would not like to trouble you."
+
+"Nothing _you_ could ask would trouble me," replied the doctor, "unless
+you asked me to leave your presence."
+
+Rose drew her girlish form up to its full height as she answered: "I
+did not think you would take advantage of my position to insult me,
+sir."
+
+"Nor have I, nor do I," replied the doctor, with a flushed brow. "I love
+you--I love you honorably; I would make you my wife; I am incapable of
+insulting any woman."
+
+Tears sprang to Rose's eyes as she answered, "Forgive me; I can not
+explain to you _why_ I am so sensitive to a fancied insult."
+
+"Nor need you," replied the doctor, as an expression of acute pain
+passed over his fine features; "Rose, let me stand between you and harm;
+be my wife--my own, dear, honored wife."
+
+"Oh no, no, no!" gasped Rose, retreating as he approached her; "you do
+not know--or you would not. Sir!" and the color receded from her lip and
+cheek--"that boy!--God knows I believed myself an honored wife."
+
+"Rose," again repeated the doctor, without heeding her confession, "will
+you be my wife?"
+
+"I can not," said Rose, moved to tears by his generous confidence,
+"_that_ would be sin--I have no heart to give you. Though all is
+mystery, though I never more may see him, I love the father of my boy."
+
+The doctor rose, and walked the little cabin.
+
+"Is this your final answer?" asked he, returning to the side of Rose.
+
+"I can give no other, much as I thank you for this proof of your--" and
+here her voice again failed her.
+
+"Rose," exclaimed the doctor, passionately seizing her hand, "I will not
+ask you to love _me_. I will be satisfied if you will allow me to love
+_you_."
+
+Poor Rose, none knew better than herself how eloquently the heart may
+plead; and _because_ she knew this, because only to the voice of the
+loved one would the chords of _her_ heart vibrate, did she turn away
+from that pleading voice and those brimming eyes.
+
+For a long time Rose sat with her face buried in her hands after the
+doctor left her. It was hard so to repay such trust. Could he only be
+her brother--her counselor--but no--her path in life must be solitary.
+
+Would the cloud never roll away?
+
+Must it always be so?
+
+Would Vincent never come to claim her?
+
+Would a life of purest rectitude _never_ meet its reward?
+
+Would the world's scornful "Magdalena" be her earth-baptism?
+
+Would the sweet fount of her boy's life be turned to bitterness?
+
+Would he grow up to blush at his mother's name?
+
+Would his hand be raised in deadly fray to avenge the undeserved taunt
+which yet he knew not how to repel?
+
+O, Vincent!
+
+Rose's refusal of Doctor Perry but added fuel to the flame; it is the
+unattainable we seek, the unattainable only that we fancy can satisfy;
+the unattainable that at any cost we must have.
+
+How could he give her up? How think of her in the great, busy, wicked
+city, to which she was going, unfriended and penniless? Was there no way
+he could be of service to her? No way in which, without offending her
+sensitiveness, he could shield her from suffering and insult. Who was
+the father of her child? She "still loved him," believed him true to
+her--looked forward to the time when his honor should be vindicated on
+her behalf.
+
+The doctor knew more of the world. The film would fall from her eyes by
+and by; he would wait patiently for that moment: then, perhaps, she
+would not turn away from him. She was too noble to cherish the memory of
+one she believed to be base. What alliance could purity have with
+pollution? Poor, trusting, wronged Rose! How immeasurably superior was
+she even now, and scorned thus, to the pharisaical of her own sex who,
+intrenched outwardly in purity, and pointing the finger of scorn at the
+suspected of their own sex, yet hold out the ready hand of welcome to
+him who comes into their presence, foul from the pollution of
+promiscuous harlotry.
+
+Beautiful consistency! Pure Christianity! From the decision of such an
+incompetent tribunal, thank God! Rose could appeal to a Higher Court.
+
+Rose was a daily marvel to the conceited Fritz. Accustomed in his
+grosser moments to those debasing _liaisons_ which so infallibly unfit a
+man for the society of the pure in heart, he could not comprehend the
+reserve--even _hauteur_--with which the pretty Rose repelled every
+advance to an acquaintance.
+
+At first, his surprised vanity whispered that it was only a cunning
+little _ruse_, to enhance the value of surrender, but this astute
+conclusion was doomed to be quenched by Rose's determinate and continued
+persistency. Then Fritz had fallen into the common error of fancying
+that to know _one_ woman was to know the whole sex; not dreaming that it
+is necessary to begin with a different alphabet, in order to read
+understandingly _each_ new female acquaintance;--a little fact which
+most men blunder through life without finding out.
+
+In vain he displayed his white hands. In vain he donned successively his
+black suit, his gray suit, and his drab suit (which last he never
+resorted to except in very obstinate cases); in vain he tied his cravats
+in all sorts of fanciful forms; in vain he played "sick" in his crimson
+silk dressing-gown, or languished on deck in his Jersey overcoat. In
+vain he, who detested children, made advances through Charley, who was
+now convalescent; in vain he remarked in Rose's hearing that "his gloves
+needed mending," and that "the buttons were off his linen." Rose might
+as well have been deaf, dumb, and blind, for all the notice she took of
+him.
+
+It was unaccountable. Fritz was piqued--in fact he did not like it, and
+consulted his never-failing solace, the looking-glass, to see what was
+the matter. There was still Fritz enough left (such was the verdict of
+the looking-glass), spite of sea-sickness, to satisfy any reasonable
+woman.
+
+"Pooh! Rose was a stupid little thing; that was the amount of it; there
+was no use wasting his time on her;" and this last, by the way, was the
+only sensible reflection he had yet arrived at. He could fancy very well
+why she had not liked Doctor Perry (the doctor's distrait manner of late
+had attracted his notice). "Perry was well enough, but"--and Fritz
+finished the sentence by affectionately caressing his adolescent
+mustache.
+
+"Yes, Rose was a stupid little automaton--she had no soul." Fritz had so
+much soul himself, that he considered that article a _sine quâ non_ in
+any woman he honored with his notice.
+
+
+Meanwhile the gallant vessel plowed her plashing way through the
+pathless waters. Over the mermaids, if there were any, over the coral
+reefs, over the wondrously beautiful sea-weeds, over the sheeted dead in
+their monumentless sepulchers; dashing--plunging--creaking--soaring and
+sinking--defying winds and storms--scattering the dolphins--startling
+the sea-birds--hailing cheerily the homeward and outward
+bound--careering as gayly over the treacherous waves, as if the
+shivering of a mast, a little water in the hold, or the leaden lids of
+the pilot, might not land the passengers with their joys, sorrows, and
+embryo plans on that measureless shore whence there is no return boat.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+
+"I am sorry for you, my dear Perry," replied the captain. "Rose is a
+glorious, little creature, and you are a whole-souled fellow, and I wish
+I could pilot your boat into the port of matrimony; but women are queer
+things, you can no more tell which way they'd be likely to jump, than I
+can tell what wind will next blow my vessel. Now, I should have thought
+she is all alone so, and unprovided--but it is no use talking, cheer up,
+Perry. I will do all you ask; I'll disburse the funds for you, and she
+shall never know where it comes from; you are a good fellow, Perry;
+there are not many rejected suitors that would act as magnanimously as
+you have; but do you suppose when you get to New Orleans you can watch
+over her, without her finding it out?"
+
+"Yes," said the doctor. "I think so, with the aid of a little disguise,
+false whiskers, etc. At any rate, it is no use for me to try to fix my
+mind on any thing. I never was in love before, never saw a woman whom I
+did not shudder to think of, in the light of a life-companion. Perhaps
+you marvel that I can overlook, what to most men would be an
+insuperable obstacle to marriage with Rose; and yet, viewing it through
+the world's spectacles, why should you? Do not priests and parents every
+day legalize the prostitution of youth to toothless Mammon? Beside Rose
+has been deceived. She is at heart pure. In God's sight, she is
+innocent. I would stand between her and the scorn of the world. She has
+been more sinned against than sinning.
+
+"True," said the captain, "and loves the rascal in spite of it."
+
+"Because, with a woman's generous devotion, she does not believe him
+false; she looks yet to have the mystery cleared up, and to find his
+honor untarnished."
+
+"God grant it, for her sake," replied the captain.
+
+"Amen!" exclaimed Perry; for in truth his love for Rose, surpassing the
+love of men, was capable even of this magnanimity.
+
+"Shipwreck me!" exclaimed the captain, consoling himself with a bit of
+tobacco, "if I can make out how it is, that the finest women invariable
+throw themselves away on these good-for-nothing fellows. It is always
+so, Perry."
+
+"Not always," said the doctor. "Not in your case, at least," and he
+grasped the captain's hand.
+
+"Thank you--thank you," replied Captain Lucas, with emotion. "I believe
+my Mary is a happy wife."
+
+And this was New Orleans! its hot breath swept across Rose's cheek, as
+she stood upon the deck of the Neptune, gazing upon its nearing spires,
+roofs, and chimneys. The city's distant hum even now falls upon her
+watchful ear. Amid its motley population should she find him whom she
+had come to seek? Would he take the pain from out her young heart? claim
+her, and his boy? or should she walk the crowded streets day by day,
+reading faces, measuring forms, listening to voices, and return at
+nightfall with eye, ear, and heart, dissatisfied.
+
+"Rose?"
+
+She turned her head. "A few words with you," said Captain Lucas.
+
+Ah--that was what she had been dreading, payment for her services, and
+they had been so slight, so interrupted by Charley's sickness, and so
+she told the captain with her usual ingenuousness, for she had begun to
+fear latterly that Captain Lucas had not needed them at all, and that
+his engagement with her was a delicate cover for his charity. But it was
+useless talking; the captain was as peremptory as if he were on
+quarter-deck among his sailors, instead of talking there in the cabin to
+a little woman four feet high; he said "he was in a hurry," he said
+(presenting her with Doctor Perry's roll of bills after he had himself
+paid her) that "that was a present from himself for Charley," and he
+said that as she was all alone, she must let an old man like him direct
+her where to find proper lodgings; so he penciled on a card the address
+of an old lady, whose quiet house he thought would just suit her; and
+then he said, kissing Charley, "God bless you both," and drew his hand
+across his eyes.
+
+Good Captain Lucas! when was ever a sailor's heart callous to the touch
+of sorrow? May there not be something in the strong brave element on
+which he rides to quicken what is grand and noble in his nature?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+
+Rose found the new quarters to which Captain Lucas had directed her,
+very comfortable. Her French landlady seemed altogether too busy,
+attending to her domestic matters, and nursing her poodle, to trouble
+herself about Rose's private affairs. This of itself was an infinite
+relief, for she had learned to shrink from the scrutiny of strangers.
+Her apartment was furnished neatly, and Charley's delight was unbounded
+to be able to pursue his educational baby instincts, untrameled by the
+pitching of the vessel. But Rose counted every moment lost, in which she
+was not pursuing her search for Vincent; a night of broken slumber, a
+hurried breakfast, a hasty toilet, and she started with Charley in her
+arms on her almost hopeless errand, she scarce knew whither.
+
+Past the large hotel, on whose broad piazza strangers and citizens
+congregated, past the busy stores, past the quays and wharves, turning
+hastily the street corners, gazing into shops, now startled by the tone
+of a voice, now quickening her pace at the deceptive outline of a
+distant form. Fear found no place in her throbbing heart, and if it
+had, was there not an angel in her arms? It is a sweet thought, that the
+presence of a little child is often to an unattended woman the surest
+protection. The abandoned idler recognizes and respects this holy tie.
+He, too, was once a pure and stainless child--the lisping little voice
+seems to whisper in his sin-dulled ear, "Go and sin no more."
+
+Rose could not have told why, of all the Southern cities, she had
+selected New Orleans for her search for Vincent. Had you asked, she
+could have given no reason for the magnetism which had drawn her
+thither.
+
+Still she pursued her search day after day, spite of discouragement;
+still the great busy human tide ebbed and flowed past her, bearing on
+its surface barks without ballast--barks without rudder or
+compass--drifting hither and thither, careless how surely Time's rapids
+were hurrying them on to the shoreless ocean of eternity.
+
+It was evening. Rose had put Charley in his little bed to sleep, and sat
+at the open window, as she had done many an evening before, watching and
+listening. It was now a fortnight since she came to New Orleans, and
+still no clew of Vincent. She could not always live in this way; she had
+not the purse of Fortunatus; she must soon again seek employment. Rose's
+heart grew sick and faint with hope deferred.
+
+A low moan of pain fell upon her ear. She started to her feet and ran up
+to the little bed. It was not Charley; he was quietly sleeping. She
+looked out of the window; a woman had fallen upon the pavement beneath
+it. Rose ran down the steps to her assistance. She had only turned her
+ankle, but the pain was so acute that she was unable to rise unaided.
+
+"Lean on me," said Rose, as she gently placed her arm at her disposal,
+and guided her up the steps and into her little parlor; then kneeling
+before her, she gently drew off the stocking, and laved the pained foot
+with cold water. It was a pretty foot, small, white, and if a high
+instep, as some would have us believe, is proof of "blood," an
+aristocratic foot. The stranger might have been twenty-five years of
+age, and had the remains of great beauty.
+
+"You are very kind," said she, at length, opening her large eyes; "very
+kind--and beautiful too; more's the pity. I was once beautiful; look at
+me now. You don't believe it, perhaps. _He_ thought so; he said, 'my
+eyes were stars, my teeth pearls.' Did you ever love? It is very sweet
+to be loved. My mother died; my father had a new wife. In their
+happiness they forgot me, and in my loneliness I prayed for death. Then
+_he_ came. Oh, _now_ I prayed to live! he made earth so fair to me. I
+was glad that I was beautiful for his sake. He asked me to be his wife.
+So one night, when the stars came out, I put my hand in his, and looked
+on my home for the last time. I knew my father and his new wife would
+not miss me. Oh, I was so happy! I did not see the face of the priest
+who married us; it was down by the old church, and the stars were the
+only witnesses. That night I slept on my husband's breast, and I wished
+my mother were living to know how blest was her child. You are glad I
+was so happy; you think some day _you_ will be happy too; you think you
+will madden some fiery heart with love. So you may; and then you will be
+the blighted thing I am; for our marriage was a mockery; the priest was
+his servant. One night, as I sat at the window watching for him, I heard
+voices; I heard him, my husband, speak my name lightly to this servant.
+I, who believed myself his wife; I, who had thought to turn my back on
+misery forever, and hug happiness to my bosom; I, who had trusted all,
+given all, and asked for no surety! I heard him plan with his servant to
+decoy a young school-girl to his arms, and blight her as he had me. The
+roof over my head stifled me; I did not stay to upbraid him; I could not
+have taken a drop of water from his hand had I been dying. I fled from
+the house;--but oh! not as I left my childhood's home! I sought labor;
+for I loathed sin. None would employ me; I hungered for bread; all
+turned coldly away. Then one saw me, who knew my story, and wherever I
+turned, scorn pointed her finger. The 'good' closed their doors, and
+said, 'Stand aside, I am holier than thou;' the bad opened theirs, and
+said, 'Eat, drink, and be merry.' Then Despair took me by the hand, and
+led me in. Sin fed me, clothed me; sin baptized my child.
+
+"One night, with other revelers, _he_ came to that unholy place; _he_,
+my 'husband!'--oh, it was gay! He smiled the old smile; he said, 'Right,
+my girl, a short life and a merry one; there is no future--we die and
+there's an end!' My tortured soul gave these false words the lie; but I
+smiled back--he was to be _my_ victim now! Peace was lost, heaven was
+lost; what should hold me back? The wine cup went round. 'Pledge me,' I
+said, 'here's to your happy future!' He drained it, poison and all, to
+the dregs--why not? Men make the laws to suit themselves, so they make
+no law for the seducer. I had to be judge and jury; oh it was gay! He
+writhed--why not? What was it to the writhings of my spirit every hour
+in that accursed gilded prison-house! He died, my seducer; then I fled
+hither.
+
+"Down--down--down I am going; beauty buys me no bread now; down--down!"
+and the fire died out from her eyes, and her head drooped upon her
+breast.
+
+"Dreadful," said the horror-struck Rose, "don't talk so, I am a stranger
+here; but surely," and the crimson flush overspread her cheeks, "there
+must be Magdalen Asylums here."
+
+"Oh, that's gay," said the half-crazed woman, laughing hysterically,
+"gay; they write 'Magdalen' over the door where you go in and out, they
+tell visitors you are a Magdalen,' when you want to hide your shame,
+and be good. They drag you _away_ from heaven, and then tell you to go
+there. Listen," and she lowered her voice, and laid her thin hand on
+that of Rose. "Listen, and I will tell you a story. Once, at the
+Magdalen Asylum, a young girl, half starved, and out of employment, came
+and asked for a shelter. They asked her 'if she was virtuous,' she said
+'yes,' then they shut the door in her face, saying 'that their house was
+for Magdalens;' she wept, and wrung her hands, as she turned away into
+the dark night. Next day she came back, and said, 'take me in, now, I'm
+a Magdalen, now I shall have a shelter.' Oh it was gay; children of this
+world are wiser in their generation than the children of light. Satan is
+too busy; down, down. If Vincent sees your pretty face you'll go down,
+down, too, but Vincent's dead. Good-by, you are beautiful, more's the
+pity."
+
+The poor, half-crazed creature pressed Rose's robe to her lips, and
+limped away, and like one under the influence of night-mare, Rose sat
+gazing spell-bound, after her retreating form without the power of
+speech or motion.
+
+
+Shine on, as ye have shone, gentle stars!
+
+Look down upon crushed innocence and triumphant guilt, upon ragged
+virtue, and ermined vice--upon the wretched who pray to die, and the
+loved and loving whose uplifted hands, and tears of agony, fail to stay
+death's dart.
+
+Roll on, gentle stars!
+
+Shall not He, who feedeth your never-consuming fires, yet make every
+crooked path straight, every rough place plain? What though the tares
+grow amid the wheat until the harvest, shall not the great Husbandman
+surely winnow them out, and gather the wheat into the heavenly granary?
+
+Roll on, gentle stars!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+
+Mr. John Howe sat comfortably in his easy-chair, smoking his chibouk.
+Mrs. Howe sat opposite to him, dressed in a fashionable suit of black,
+with her gaiter-boots on a bronze hound.
+
+"John?"
+
+John smoked away as imperturbably as if he were a bachelor.
+
+"Mr. Howe?"
+
+"Well," replied John, complacently regarding the curling smoke.
+
+"Do you know this is the last day of June?"
+
+"Well," repeated John.
+
+"'Well--well!' Mr. Howe, I do wish you'd stop thinking of that
+contemptible political paper you are reading, and attend to me. But
+before I begin, I wish to say that I _should_ like a paper in the house
+that has something in it. There is not an account of the fashions in
+that newspaper from one year's end to the other; in fact, there is
+nothing in it but politics--politics; it is the stupidest paper I ever
+read. Why don't you take the 'Lady's Garland,' now, or 'The Parlor
+Weekly,' or some such interesting periodical, with those lovely
+fashion-prints, and cuff and collar patterns, and crochet guides? One
+would think you imagined a woman's mind needed no nutriment at all. What
+are you laughing at, Mr. Howe?"
+
+"Your thirst for knowledge," replied John.
+
+"Laugh away--it is a great point gained to get one's husband
+good-humored. Now, listen: Mrs. St. Pierre has gone into the country, so
+has Mrs. Ralph Denys, and Mrs. George Cook goes to-morrow."
+
+"What the deuce has that to do with us?" asked John.
+
+"It is so vulgar to stay in the city in summer," replied Mrs. Howe.
+"Nobody does it but tradespeople, and those who can not afford to
+migrate. I tell you it is indispensable for people in our station not to
+be seen here in the summer months."
+
+"I don't want to be seen," said John, still puffing. "Shut the front
+window-shutters; let the silver door-plate grow rusty, and the cobwebs
+gather on the blinds and front-door; live in the back part of the house;
+never go out except in the evening. That's the way half the fashionables
+'go into the country;' confounded cheap way, too," and John laughed
+merrily.
+
+"Now, John," said his wife, "where did you pick that up? I took good
+care not to tell you that, because I knew I should never hear the last
+of it; but even that is better than to be thought unfashionable. Still,
+it is not like having a country seat."
+
+"A country-seat!" ejaculated John, wheeling square round, so as to face
+his wife; "catch me at it! Eat up by musquitos, kept awake by
+bull-frogs, serenaded by tree-toads, bored to death by riding-parties
+from the city, who devour your fruit, break off your flowers, and bark
+your trees; horses and carriages to keep, two or three extra servants,
+conservatory, hot-house, stables, barns, garden-tools, ice-house--shan't
+do it, Mrs. Howe;" and John turned his back, put his heels deliberately
+up on the window-seat, and resumed his chibouk.
+
+Mrs. Howe smiled a little quiet smile, snapped her finger, as if at some
+invisible enemy, and tiptoeing up behind her husband's chair, whispered
+something in his conjugal ear.
+
+The _second_ time that magic whisper had conquered Mr. Howe!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+
+Slowly Rose regained her consciousness. Had she been dreaming about
+Vincent's death? The dim light of morning was struggling in through the
+vines that latticed the window. She raised herself from the floor. Ah,
+now she remembered. It was only the incoherent ravings of the poor
+crazed being who had been in the evening before; how foolish to let it
+make her so miserable! As if there were not more than one person of the
+name of Vincent in the world. She tried to shake off her miserable
+thoughts; she knelt by the side of little Charley's bed, and kissed his
+blue eyes awake, although it was scarcely daylight; for she felt so
+lonely, just as if _her_ Vincent were _really_ dead, and the wide earth
+held but one. She took Charley up and held him in her arms, and laid her
+cheek to his. Strange she could not shake off that leaden feeling. It
+must be that she were ill, she was so excitable; she would be better
+after breakfast. Sad work those trembling fingers made with Charley's
+toilet that morning. Still she kept tying, and buttoning, and pinning,
+and rolling his curls over her fingers--for the restless, unquiet heart
+finds relief in motion; ay, motion--when the brain reels and despair
+tugs at the heart-strings. Oh, Time be merciful! bear swiftly on the
+restless spirit to meet its fate; torture it no longer, suspended by a
+hair over the dread abyss!
+
+It had commenced raining. Rose believed it was that which made her
+linger on that morning, forgetting through how many drenching rains she
+had patiently traversed those streets.
+
+She walks back and forth from the window irresolutely. She thinks she
+will wait till the skies clear. Poor Rose! will thy sky _ever_ be clear?
+Now she listlessly takes up a newspaper, with which Charley has been
+playing. She smooths out its crumpled folds, and reads mechanically
+through advertisements of runaway negroes, sales of slaves at the
+auction block, ship-news, casualties, marriages, deaths. Ah! what is
+that?
+
+
+     "THE MYSTERY EXPLAINED.
+
+     "It is at length ascertained that the young man who was poisoned in
+     Natchez, in a house of questionable reputation, by an abandoned
+     female, was Vincent L'Estrange Vincent. The deceased was about
+     twenty-five, of splendid personal appearance, and will doubtless be
+     much regretted by the large and fashionable circle in which he
+     moved. The murderess has not yet been apprehended."
+
+
+The arrow has reached its mark--the bolt has sped--the weary search is
+ended--Vincent is found. Rose's Vincent?
+
+No, not _hers_.
+
+The idol is dethroned forever: the Vincent _her_ innocent heart loved
+was good, and pure, and true. Rose suffers, but she no longer loves.
+There is a deep sense of wrong and injury, a hurried look back upon all
+that is lost, a shuddering look forward, from youth's blighted
+threshhold, at the long, dreary years yet to come--a helpless folding of
+the hands at Fate--a hopeless, tearless, measureless grief.
+
+Blessed tears come quickly; lighten that heavy load; moisten those
+burning eyelids; unclasp those icy hands; give to those dumb lips
+speech; take from young life death's stony semblance!
+
+Speak to her, Charley. Stir the deep fountains of a mother's love, poor
+fatherless one! Nestle close to her desolate heart. Bid her live for
+_thee_, Charley. Tell her that 'mid thorns roses are found. Tell her
+that to the _night_ alone, many a dew-gemmed flower yields up its
+incense.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII.
+
+
+"That will do, Mrs. Macque, thank you; now a small wine-glass and
+another tea-spoon, if you please, for the light stand. I think we can
+leave nurse Chloe with my patient now," said the speaker, turning to a
+tall negress. "You understand, Chloe, give her the drops at four in the
+morning, if she should waken; if the effect of the opiate lasts longer,
+do not disturb her. I shall be in by six in the morning," and Doctor
+Perry took his leave.
+
+No, not his leave; he might not stay with Rose, but he could pace up and
+down beneath her window; he could see by the faint light of the shaded
+night-lamp, the shadow of the nurse's figure on the muslin
+window-curtains, and know that she was faithful at her post; yes, he
+could walk there, and the time would not seem long while he thought of
+Rose.
+
+Did she think, poor child, that his love could be chilled by aught but
+unworthiness?
+
+Did she think it could die out though no encouraging breath of her's
+fanned the flame?
+
+Did she think he could leave her to traverse the crowded streets of
+that great Sodom, with no defense but her helplessness?
+
+Did she think that a rejected lover could not be a trustworthy, firm,
+and untiring friend?
+
+Did she think that, like other men, he would mete out his attendance,
+only so far as it met with an equivalent?
+
+Dear Rose!
+
+How often he had longed, as he had followed her at a distance through
+the crowded streets, and seen her slight form bend under Charley's
+burden, to offer her his protecting arm. How he had longed, when the
+day's fruitless tramp was over, to go to her in the little parlor, and
+bid her lay her weary head, fearlessly, as if on a brother's breast, and
+now, when the heart's tonic;--hope--had been suddenly withdrawn, would
+the drooping spirit sink? Medicine, he knew, could do little for the
+soul's malady, but what it could do, she should be benefited by.
+
+The old colored nurse Chloe drew aside the bed-curtains to look at her
+charge. How still she lay--how white and wan. "Berry sick," she
+muttered, with a shake of her turbaned head, "missis berry sick," and
+she moved gently a long tress of hair which lay across Rose's forehead.
+"Missis berry young," she muttered, "no wrinkles dere; missis' heart is
+wrinkled, pr'aps; young face an' ole heart; some trouble been dere," and
+the old negress touched the little snow-flake of a hand which lay upon
+the coverlid. "Most see trough it," she muttered, following the tracery
+of the blue veins. "No ring on de wedding-finger; ah! pr'aps dat's it,"
+said the old negress, "den she'd better nebber wake up again. Black
+skins and white skins, de Lord sends 'em both trouble to make it all
+even. Some one ting, some anodder. My ole missis Vincent berry rich, but
+had berry bad son; handsome, but berry bad; lub nobody but himself; die
+like a dog wid all his money. De Lord he makes it all even, dis nigger
+knows dat; ole missis Vincent good to gib ole Chloe her freedom, but
+missis' son berry bad. De Lord sends some one ting, some anodder," and
+Chloe folded her arms philosophically, and leaned back in her chair.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+
+
+The door of Gertrude's studio was ajar, for the day was warm, and the
+lady had sat persistently at her easel, as was her wont (when the glow
+was on), since early day-light.
+
+Pictures and picture frames, canvas and brushes, sketches in oils,
+engravings and crayons, were scattered round, with as little regard to
+housewife-ly order, as if the apartment had been tenanted by one of the
+disorderly sex; the light was fine, and that was the most Gertrude cared
+about.
+
+She was a picture herself as she sat there, and though a woman, was not
+aware of it. The loose, white wrapper she wore had become unfastened at
+the throat, and fallen partially off one shoulder, revealing as perfect
+a bust as ever set a sculptor or lover dreaming. No prettier ornament
+could have been found to keep back her light brown tresses than her tiny
+white ears. And as the light fell upon the arm and hand which held her
+palette, one ceased marveling, with such a model before her, at her
+successful reproductions of it in the female pictures.
+
+There are some kinds of hair which always look poetical, whether
+arranged or disarranged; their glossy waves changing in the sun's rays
+like the arched neck of the peerless golden pheasant; now brown, now
+golden, beautiful whether in light or shade. This was one of Gertrude's
+greatest charms. And yet Gertrude was no beauty; but somehow there was a
+witchery about her which made you think so. It might have been the play
+of expression on the flexible lips, the warming up of the complexion,
+the sudden kindling of the eye with smiles, to be as suddenly quenched
+by tears; the rapid transitions from pensive sadness to mischievous
+mirth. When she spoke, you thought the charm in her musical voice, when
+she moved, in the symmetry of her form; every dress she wore you wished
+she would always wear, every thing she did struck you as being most
+perfectly and gracefully done; every thing she said was pertinent and
+piquant; she had thought much, and read little, hence she was always
+fresh and original; she was an independent thinker, and though
+strong-minded and clear-headed, was strictly feminine. You looked your
+watch in the face incredulously when you left her, as if _it_, not
+_she_, were at fault.
+
+"I really do not think I can do better than that," she soliloquized,
+laying down her brushes, and stepping back to look at her picture, "that
+is a success; I feel it."
+
+"Saints and angels!" she exclaimed as the door creaked slightly on its
+hinges; "where did you come from, you delicious little cherub?"
+
+Well might she exclaim. There was Charley, the little truant, just as he
+had crept out of bed, looking (as a babe always does when it first
+wakes) like a delicate morning-glory, whose dewy beauty the first sun's
+ray will exhale. His little white night-robe hung loosely about him; his
+large lustrous eyes were full of childish wonder, his dark hair curled
+in moist rings round his white temples, and his cheek was yet warm with
+the flush of sleep.
+
+"Where did you come from, you beautiful creature?" said Gertrude,
+snatching him up, and kissing first his cherry lips, then his bare,
+dimpled foot, with its pink-tipped toes, then his ivory shoulders; "I
+never saw any thing half so beautiful--who _are_ you, you little dumb
+angel?"
+
+Charley only replied by cuddling his little curly head on Gertrude's
+shoulder, for even infancy's ear may be won by the musical sweetness of
+a voice, and Gertrude's tones were heart-tones.
+
+"You trusting little innocent," said Gertrude, as her eye moistened,
+"you are sweet and holy enough for an Infant Saviour. There, sit there
+now, darling," said she, placing him on the middle of the floor, and
+scattering a bunch of flowers about him by way of bribe, "sit there
+now, while I sketch you for one," and she flew to her easel.
+
+"Yah--yah," said a voice at the door, as another model presented itself,
+in the picturesque turbaned head of Chloe, "yah--yah--you cheat ole
+nurse dis time, Massa Charley--"
+
+"Oh, don't take him away," said Gertrude; "lend him to me a little
+while--whose child is it? I almost hoped he belonged to nobody."
+
+"Missis, down stairs," answered Chloe; "I don't know her name; she berry
+sick, I only came las' night to nurse her, and while I busy here and
+dere, Massa Charley take hisself off."
+
+"Your mistress is sick?" said Gertrude; "then of course she does not
+want this little piece of quicksilver squirming round her; I want to
+make a picture of him like those that you see," said Gertrude, pointing
+to her sketches about the room;--"he is as handsome as an angel; leave
+him with me, never fear, I can charm babies like a rattlesnake, and bite
+them too," she added, touching her lips to Charley's tempting shoulders.
+
+"But my missis--" remonstrated Chloe.
+
+"Oh, never mind," said Gertrude, with her usual independence; "no mother
+ever was angry yet because her child was admired. I will bring him down
+to your door when he gets weary--there, do go away--he grows more lovely
+every minute, and I am losing time."
+
+It was not strange that Gertrude should have been unaware of the
+presence of the new lodger, rarely leaving her studio and the little
+room adjoining, where she had her meals served, except in the evening,
+when Rose was shut up in her own apartment, a prey to sorrowful
+thoughts.
+
+Gertrude was as unlike other women in her dislike of gossip as in
+various other items we might name. Provided she were not interfered
+with, it mattered nothing to her who occupied the rooms about her. It is
+only the empty-minded who, having no resources of their own, busy
+themselves with the affairs of their neighbors. It was unaccountable to
+her how the number of another woman's dresses, or bonnets, the hours and
+the places in which she promenaded, the visitors she had, or refused to
+have, her hours for rising, eating, and retiring, or the exact state of
+her finances, could be matters of such momentous interest. Living
+contentedly in a world of her own, she had neither time nor inclination
+for such petty researches.
+
+A month had elapsed since Rose's sickness; she was now convalescent, and
+able to part with the faithful Chloe, who claimed the privilege of
+calling in occasionally to see Massa Charley. Rose was again alone--no,
+not quite alone, for Gertrude had made her acquaintance, to explain her
+capture of Charley, and ask the loan of him till the picture should be
+finished.
+
+Gertrude was at a loss to comprehend Rose's manner: at one moment frank
+and sisterly, at the next cold, silent, and repellant. Rose was
+struggling with two contending feelings; her straightforward
+ingenuousness made her shrink from the idea of concealing from one of
+her own sex, who thus sought her acquaintance, her real history. She
+shrank from a friendship based on deception.
+
+Simple, straightforward Rose! as if half the friendships in the world
+would not snap in twain, placed on any other basis! If each heart, with
+its disingenuous trickeries, its selfish purposes and aims, were laid
+bare to its neighbor, if the real motives for seeming kindness, the
+inner life, whose pure outward seeming is often in direct inversion to
+the hidden corruption were as transparent to the human as to the
+Omniscient eye, who could stand the test?
+
+A few interviews with Gertrude served to dispel, in a great measure,
+these feelings. Her ready tact, and quick, womanly sympathies, served to
+bridge over the chasm to Rose's naturally trusting heart.
+
+Oh, that parting with the life-boat of faith--that unsettled, drifting,
+sinking, weary feeling--that turning away even from the substance, for
+fear of the mocking shadow--that heart-isolation which makes a desert of
+the green earth, with all its fragrance, and music, and sunshine--who
+that has known misfortune has not deplored it? Who has not striven in
+vain to get anchored back again where never a ripple of distrust might
+disturb his peace.
+
+"Tell me how you like it," said Gertrude, placing Charley's finished
+picture in the most favorable light. "Now don't say you are no
+connoisseur, that is only a polite way of declining to give an
+unfavorable opinion. Find all the fault you can with it; you at least
+should know if it is true to life."
+
+"It is perfect," said Rose, delightedly; "it is Charley's own self; he
+_is_ a pretty boy," said the proud mother, looking alternately from him
+to the picture.
+
+"You must remember," said Gertrude, "that of all the different
+expressions of a loved face, which the heart has daguerreotyped, the
+artist can catch but one, and that one may not always be to friends the
+favorite expression; hence you see, with all our good intentions, the
+craft sometimes labor to disadvantage. However, I seldom paint
+portraits; my forte is 'still life;' so, of course," she added,
+laughing; "your mercurial little _Charley_ was quite out of my orbit,
+but thanks to flowers and lump-sugar, I think I may say there is his
+double."
+
+"A mother's eye sees no flaw in it," said Rose.
+
+"Thank you," said Gertrude, with a gratified smile. "It has already
+found a purchaser. A gentleman who was in my studio this morning thought
+it a fancy sketch, and would not believe me when I told him that there
+was a beautiful living type; he offered me a sum for it that would at
+one time have made my heart leap; I can afford to refuse it now."
+
+"How early did your artistic talent develop itself?" asked Rose.
+
+"I was always fond of pictures," replied Gertrude; "but the 'talent'
+which prosperity 'folded in a napkin,' the rough hand of adversity shook
+out."
+
+"Adversity?" repeated the astonished Rose, looking at Gertrude's sunny
+face.
+
+"You are skeptical," said Gertrude. "I forgive you, but I have learned
+not to wear my heart dangling like a lady's chatelaine at my girdle, to
+be plucked at by every idle, curious, or malicious hand.
+
+"Listen!" And she drew her chair nearer to Rose.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX.
+
+GERTRUDE'S STORY.
+
+
+"When I was about fifteen, I lost both my parents with an epidemic,
+which raged in the neighborhood. Up to that time, I had known poverty
+and sorrow only through an occasional novel, which fell in my way. My
+dear father, whose silver head I never can think of without
+involuntarily and reverentially bowing my own, had made my child-life
+one dream of delight. I felt free to think aloud in his presence. I
+feared no monastic severity at my childish blunders, or indiscretions;
+he was my friend, my play-fellow, as well as my teacher and guardian.
+
+"I had an only brother, who had imbibed an unconquerable passion for
+travel and adventure, and the only mistake my father ever made
+educationally, was shutting him off from any mention of the subject. He
+thought himself right in this, and meant it kindly; but it resulted in
+my brother's secretly leaving home in disguise for a foreign port; he
+has never since been heard from, and was probably lost at sea.
+
+"Upon the death of my parents there was found nothing left for my
+support, and I was left to the care of a distant relative. It was an
+unexpected and unwelcome legacy, for Mrs. Bluff had five children of her
+own, and though in comfortable circumstances, desired no addition to her
+family. The knowledge of this added poignancy to the grief which already
+burdened my heart. Upon entering this new life, I made many awkward
+attempts, with my city-bred fingers, to propitiate Mrs. Bluff on such
+occasions as baking-days, cleaning-days, washing-days, and ironing-days.
+Mrs. Bluff's daughters were as round as pumpkins, and as flaunting as
+sun-flowers; could spin and weave, and quilt, and bake, and brew, and
+had the reputation of driving the best bargain at the village store, of
+any customer for miles round; they pushed me this way and that, laughed
+at my small, baby hands and pale face, wondered where I had been brought
+up that I never saw a churn; 'swapped off' my dear books, my only
+comforts, unknown to me, to a traveling peddler for some bright-red
+ribbon, and voted me on all occasions a most useless piece of furniture.
+As for Mr. Bluff, provided his horses, hens, cows, pigs, and chickens,
+fulfilled their barn-yard destiny, and Squire Tompkins's rabbits did not
+girdle his young trees, and his mug of cider was ready for his cobwebbed
+throat as soon as his oxen's horns were seen turning down the lane, the
+world might turn round or stand still.
+
+"Every effort I made to conciliate the Bluffs, or to render myself
+useful, met with a rude rebuff. I could not understand it then. I see
+now that it was the rough but involuntary tribute which uneducated minds
+involuntarily paid to a more refined one. Yet why should they feel thus?
+If I could have taught them many things I had learned from books, they,
+on the other hand, could have initiated me into the practical duties of
+every-day life, without a knowledge of which any woman is in a pitiable
+state of helplessness, for though she may be rich enough to have
+servants, she is yet at their mercy, for if she chooses to order a
+certain pudding for dinner, they may make a reply, which her ignorance
+can not controvert, as to the time necessary to prepare it, or the
+quantity of ingredients, not on hand, to make it.
+
+"Deprived of my books, my mind preyed upon itself. I wandered off, in my
+leisure hours, in the woods and fields, and built such air-castles as
+architects of sixteen are apt to construct. So fond I became of my
+wood-rambles in all weathers, and talking to myself for want of company,
+that an old lady in the village asked Mrs. Bluff, with the most
+commiserating concern, 'if it wasn't a heap of trouble to look after
+that crazy critter?'
+
+"I had been at Greytown about a year when a new pastor was settled over
+the village church. It was an event commensurate with the taking of
+Sebastopol. There was not an unwedded female in the parish, my cousins
+included, who did not _give him a call_ in the most unmistakable manner.
+What with utter disgust at these open advances, and renewed signs of
+hostility on the part of my cousins since his advent, I resolved to
+absent myself on the occasion of every parochial call, and to confine my
+eyes to the pew crickets on Sunday.
+
+"The barriers which my obstinacy thus built up chance threw down. City
+bred as I was, I had an extraordinary gift at climbing trees and scaling
+fences. In one of my rambles, trusting too much to my agile ankles, when
+climbing over a stone wall, I lost my foothold, and was precipitated to
+the ground, bringing down a large stone upon my foot. The pain was so
+great that I fainted.
+
+"When I came to myself, the minister was bathing my face with some water
+he had brought from a brook near by. I roused myself, and after making
+several ineffectual attempts to bear my own weight, was obliged to
+accept his offered arm. I was vexed to have been seen in so awkward a
+predicament, vexed that the dread of the storm that was sure to burst on
+my head on my appearance with him at my aunt's, should render me
+incapable of even the most common-place conversation. For some reason or
+other, he seemed equally embarrassed with myself, and I shut myself up
+on reaching home, to give full vent to my mortification. From that
+moment I endured every species of persecution from my aunt and cousins,
+who, with their scheming eyes, saw in it only a well-planned stratagem,
+and drove me nearly distracted by speaking of it in that light to those
+who would be sure to report it to the party most concerned. Whether this
+suggested thoughts in the young minister he would not otherwise have
+entertained, I can not say--certain it is, that he very soon invited me
+to become mistress of the parsonage, and from its flowered windows, a
+few weeks after, with my husband's arm about me, I could smile on my
+parishioners, both male and female.
+
+"Never was a wife blessed with a truer heart to rest upon--never was a
+wife nearer forgetting that happiness is but the exception in this world
+of change. What is this modern clamor about 'obedience' in the marriage
+relation? How easy to 'obey' when the heart can not yield enough to the
+loved one? Ah, the chain can not fret when it hangs so lightly! I never
+heard the clanking of mine. Oh, the deep, unalloyed happiness of those
+five short years! I look back upon it from this distance as one
+remembers some lovely scene in a sunny, far-off land, where earth and
+heaven put on such dazzling glory as dimmed the eyes forever after,
+making night's leaden pall denser, gloomier, for the brightness which
+had gone before. These are murmuring words; but Rose, if you ever loved
+deeply; if after drifting about alone in a stormy sea of trouble, you
+gained some gallant vessel, saw the port of peace in sight, and then
+were again shipwrecked and engulfed--but you are weak yet, dear Rose; I
+should not talk to you thus," said Gertrude, observing Rose's tears.
+
+"It eases my heart sometimes to weep," was Rose's low reply. "Go on."
+
+"I left the roof under which no sound of discord was ever heard, my
+child and I. The world is full of widows and orphans. One meets their
+sabled forms at every step. No one turns to look at them, unless perhaps
+some tearful one at whose hearthstone also death has been busy. And so
+we passed along, wondering, as thousands have done before us, as
+thousands will in time to come, how the sun _could_ shine, how the birds
+_could_ sing, how the flowers _could_ bloom, and we so grief-stricken! I
+found the world what all find it who need it. Why weary you with a
+repetition of its repulses--of my humiliations, and struggles, and
+vigils? Years of privation and suffering passed over my head.
+
+"Amid my ceaseless searches for employment I met a Mr. Stahle. He was a
+widower, with two little boys who were at that time with his first
+wife's relatives. He proposed marriage to me. My heart recoiled at the
+thought, for my husband was ever before me, I told him so, but still he
+urged his suit. I then told him that I feared to undertake the
+responsibilities of a stepmother. He replied that was the strongest
+argument in favor of my fitness for the office. He told me that _my_
+child should be to him dear and cherished as his own. These were the
+first words that moved me. For my child's sake should not I accept such
+a comfortable home? Often he had been sick and suffered for medicines
+not within my means to procure; was I not selfish in declining? I
+vacillated. Stahle saw his advantage, and pursued it. A promise of
+employment which had been held out to me that morning failed. I gave a
+reluctant consent. Mr. Stahle's delight was unbounded; his buoyant
+spirits oppressed me; his protestations of love and fidelity pained me;
+I shrank away from his caresses, and when, after a few days, he, fearful
+of a change in my resolution, urged a speedy union, I told him that the
+marriage must not be consummated--that my heart was in my husband's
+grave--that I could not love him as I saw he desired, and that our union
+under such circumstances could never be a happy one.
+
+"He would listen to no argument; said I had treated him unkindly; that
+my promise was binding, and that I could not in honor retract it; that
+he did not expect me to love him as he loved me, and that if I could
+yield him no warmer feeling than friendship, he would rather have that
+than the love of any other woman. Perplexed, wearied, and desponding, I
+ceased to object rather than consented, while Stahle hurried the
+preparations for our union. Worn out in mind and body, I resigned
+myself as in a sort of stupor, like the wretch whom drowsiness
+overpowers in the midst of pathless snows. Oh, had I _but then_ woke up
+to the consciousness of my own powers! But I will not anticipate.
+
+"Mr. Stahle took a house much larger than I thought necessary, for he
+had only a limited salary. I begged him to expend nothing in show; that
+if his object were to gratify me, I cared for none of those things. He
+always had some reason, however, which he considered plausible, for
+every purchase he made; and skipped from room to room with the glee of a
+child in possession of a new toy, giving orders here and there for the
+arrangement of carpets, furniture, and curtains, occasionally referring
+to me. On such occasions I would answer at random, memory picturing
+_another_ home, whose every nook and corner was cherished as he who had
+made it for me an earthly heaven!
+
+"One morning early, Stahle came to my lodgings in great haste, saying,
+'Gertrude, we must be married immediately; this very morning; see here,'
+and he drew from his pocket a paper, in which he read: 'Married, last
+night, by Rev. Dr. Briggs, Mrs. Gertrude Deane to John H. Stahle.'
+
+"'Who could have done that?' asked I, no suspicion of the truth crossing
+my mind.
+
+"'It is impossible to tell,' replied Mr. Stahle; 'at all events, there
+is only one course for us to pursue; here is the marriage-license--the
+clergyman will wait upon us in fifteen minutes. Never mind your dress,'
+said he, as I cast my eye down upon my sable robes--(alas! they were all
+too fitting)--'you always look pretty, Gertrude,' and he took my hand in
+his own, which trembled with agitation.
+
+"I was bewildered, paralyzed; for up to that moment I had hoped for some
+unexpected deliverance. I was hardly conscious during the ceremony. I
+remembered the face of my child, and of a friend who was witness. I
+remember Stahle's convulsive pressure of my arm against his side. I
+remember how like a knell fell these words upon my ear, 'I now pronounce
+you man and wife.' I remember my dread of the clergyman's taking leave
+of us; and I remember that the gleam of Stahle's eye, as he did so, made
+me shiver.
+
+"Stahle was mentally infinitely my inferior; still I believed him a
+conscientious _Christian_. Now when I look back, I only wonder that I
+did not lose my faith in the very belief he so disgraced by his
+professorship. His external religious duties were most punctiliously
+performed. He never was absent, how inclement soever the weather, from
+church or vestry-meeting; he never, under any circumstances, omitted
+family devotions; the Bible was as familiar to him as A, B, C, and as
+often on his lips. I myself was religiously inclined; it was this alone
+which had buoyed me up when wave after wave of trouble dashed over me. I
+had thought sometimes that on this ground we could meet, if on no other.
+This alone inspired me with confidence that his promises to me and my
+child would be conscientiously kept.
+
+"How can I describe to you my gradual waking up from this delusion? The
+conviction that came slowly--but surely--that he was a hypocrite, and a
+gross sensualist. That it was passion, not love, which he felt for me,
+and that marriage was only the stepping-stone to an else impossible
+gratification.
+
+"Now I understood why that, which, to a delicate mind, would have been
+an insuperable obstacle to our union, was but a straw in his path. It
+was not the _soul_ of which he desired possession, it was not that which
+he craved or could appreciate. I was wild with despair. O, the creeping
+horror with which I listened to his coming footsteps! I sprang from my
+seat when his footfall announced his approach--not to meet him, as a
+wife should meet her husband, as I in happier days had met Arthur--but
+to fly from him--to throw out my arms despairingly for help, and then to
+sink back into my chair, and nerve myself with a calm voice and shrouded
+eye to meet his unacceptable caresses.
+
+"O, what a fate--and for me! I who had soared with the eagle, to burrow
+with the mole!
+
+"How aggravated the misery that one must bear alone! My perfect
+self-control could not be penetrated by Stahle's imperfect vision;--to
+him my disgust was only coyness, and served but as fuel to the flame.
+This was my penance, for a sin against God, of which every woman is
+guilty who goes from the altar with perjured lips. But alas! little by
+little, as a drop of water may wear away the stone, had poverty, and
+sorrow, and discouragement robbed me of my energy, and made me the
+helpless tool I was. Still it comforted me that I had not deceived
+Stahle;--he knew my heart was not his, and but for the trick to which I
+was now sure his fears and passion had alike urged him on that fatal
+morning, I might have roused myself ere too late, from the benumbing
+spell of despair.
+
+"Still, before God I resolved conscientiously to perform the duties I
+had assumed. The more my heart recoiled, the more strict was my outward
+observance. I patiently repaired the dilapidations of Stahle's widower
+wardrobe; I attended to his minutest wishes with regard to the
+management of his household; I saw that his favorite dishes were set
+before him.
+
+"_Duty_ in place of _Love_! O, the difference in the two watchwords! The
+irresistible trumpet tones of the two combined!
+
+"During the day, the labor of my hands served as an escape-valve for the
+restlessness of my heart; but the evenings--the long, long
+evenings!--for Stahle never left my side. I proposed his reading to me,
+as a reprieve from his caresses. I did not care what, so that his arms
+were not round my waist, or his lip near mine. The plan succeeded but
+very indifferently; the books which I had on hand were not suited to his
+understanding, or his taste. I then procured some novels, involved him
+in tracing the fates of distressed lovers and their adjuncts, and
+succeeded better; not but that even then there were occasional
+parantheses which recalled me from the dream-land into which I had
+wandered away from the book and its reader, while employed with my
+needle. This reading also served as a pretext for lengthening the
+evenings--which, paradoxical as it may appear, was very desirable to me.
+
+"I have said Stahle had two absent children. I had urged him ever since
+our marriage to bring them home. His reply always was: 'I can not leave
+you yet, Gertrude, to go for them.' I urged their separation from him,
+and the necessity that probably existed for those who had passed through
+so many different hands, of some system, as to their government and
+education. He seemed quite insensible to these appeals, having only one
+thought, that of leaving me, although the journey required but one day.
+
+"I am, as you have seen, Rose, very fond of children. I determined, God
+helping me, to fulfill my duty to the utmost in regard to his. I hoped
+to make this a pleasant duty.
+
+"It was evening. I was alone; a cheerful fire blazed upon the hearth;
+the tea-table was spread, the lamps lighted, and my little Arthur was
+amusing himself making rabbits with his fingers upon the walls. I sat in
+my little rocking-chair thinking. It was so blessed to be again alone
+with only my little Arthur. Lip, eye, and brow to be out of school!
+True, my bill of sale every where met my eye; the roof over my head was
+_his_--I could not say _ours_.
+
+"Hark!--away with such thoughts--that step was Stahle's! He had returned
+from his day's journey. He came in, leading by the hand two little boys.
+My heart warmed toward the motherless; these little ones, still clad in
+the badge of mourning for her whose loss, with my best efforts, I could
+never hope to repair;--these little ones, looking wonderingly about
+them, in their meek helplessness, at the strange aspect of every thing!
+It was to me an inexpressibly touching sight. Before I could caress
+them, Stahle stepped between us, and threw his arms passionately about
+me. It was so like him, that mistake. The children felt supplanted, cast
+frightened glances at me, and nestled closer to each other. I lost not a
+moment in disengaging myself from Stahle, and took them both in my lap.
+
+"Fragile little things they were. They had outgrown their scanty
+garments, the brush had not brought out the gloss on their silky locks,
+their little finger-nails were all untrimmed, their flesh out of sight
+not scrupulously clean; in short, they looked as childhood ever looks
+when the watchful eye and busy hand of the mother is cold in death.
+
+"We soon became friends. The searching glances they bent on me, in which
+I felt they were, to the best of their childish ability, taking my
+measure, I returned with looks of heartfelt pity and love.
+
+"The next day, and many succeeding days, I busied myself in supplying
+their wardrobe. I had a natural skill in cutting and making children's
+garments, which, in my search for employment, I had sometimes hoped to
+turn to account, and which rendered it a matter of little expense to
+Stahle. This was a great gratification to me; it seemed to me to repay,
+in some sort, an irksome obligation. I worked diligently and
+assiduously, and had the satisfaction of hearing Stahle say that 'he had
+not thought his children were so pretty;' and yet I expended nothing in
+ornament, so unnecessary on childhood; but their limbs had free play in
+their clothes; the colors of which their dresses were composed were
+suited to their complexions; their feet were not compressed with tight
+shoes; their hair was nicely kept, and they gradually lost that shy,
+startled look which so distressed me when they first came.
+
+"I taught Arthur to yield his natural rights in his own property to
+them. It was a lesson I was desirous early to teach him, who was in
+danger of becoming selfish from always having played alone.
+
+"Children have quick instincts. Little Edgar and Harry soon learned to
+love me, whom they knew to be their friend; they would put their arms
+about my neck, and call me 'dear mother.' This troubled me; it seemed as
+if it must pain _her_. I never taught them to call me so. I never taught
+my child to call Stahle father. It seemed to me this should not be
+forced, but should flow out spontaneously; even then I almost shrank
+from accepting the sacred appellation. I talked to them often of their
+own mother, lest years should efface the indistinct recollections of
+infancy. I learned from their childish prattle, that she was 'always
+sick.' I could readily believe it, for they had inherited her fragility;
+also that she 'taught them a little prayer,' which they 'could not
+remember,' though I repeated several which childhood oftenest lisps.
+
+"They said mother's hair was not curly, like mine, and that she was
+'ever so much little-er'; and that she coughed very bad, and could not
+play with them much. Consumption then was the enemy I was to ward off;
+so I protected their little lungs with flannel. I dressed them warmly,
+and then tried to inure them to all weathers, as I had always done my
+own child.
+
+"I found a sort of quiet happiness in thus attempting to perform my
+duty, for I really loved the children, who were quite as good as they
+could be, after having passed through so many different hands. We had
+been some time married when all the little ones were seized with
+scarlatina, and after a painful prostration by it, and a partial
+convalescence, the doctor advised a change of air, and we accordingly
+commenced all needful preparations for the journey.
+
+"Up to this time I had not been into public with Stahle; even in my
+first married life I had never done this, (why should I have done so
+when _home_ was Paradise?) and now--what availed change of place, when,
+go where I might, the arrow was still quivering in my heart?
+
+"Occasionally we had callers, business friends of Stahle's, to whom he
+requested me to be, and to whom I was, punctiliously civil.
+
+"But we were now to move out of this orbit into a wider one; we were to
+meet more than one class of persons, for the facilities of travel have
+made north and south, east and west, mere nominal terms.
+
+"One day, on our journey, I took my seat at a public dinner-table with
+Stahle. Some gentlemen were already seated, and engaged in conversation.
+As we entered, one of them glancing at us, said to his companion, 'Look
+there, Howard, how in the name of ---- did such a fellow,' nodding at
+Stahle, 'get such a fine-looking woman as that for a wife?'
+
+"Stahle overheard it; his lips were livid with suppressed rage, while in
+spite of all my efforts to keep the tell-tale blood from my face, it
+was quite crimsoned. From that moment he became changed; for the first
+time the disparity between us seemed to dawn upon him. He thought every
+body else was looking at us through the same pair of spectacles. He grew
+moody, silent, and abstracted; was ever on the alert when we were in
+company, overhearing every word, watching every look, noticing every
+motion, magnifying every thing into an affront to him, or an overture to
+me.
+
+"I have not described Stahle's physique to you. He was under-sized, with
+a pale complexion, and light brown beard. He wore his hair long, and
+parted on the left temple, its sleek, shining look, giving him a meek
+appearance; his lips were thin, and, in a woman, would have been called
+shrewish; this tell-tale feature he dexterously concealed with his
+beard. I have never seen such a mouth since, that I have not shuddered;
+his eyes were a pale gray, and were always averted in talking, as if he
+feared his secret thoughts might shine through them. He appeared to
+great disadvantage in company, both from his inferior personal
+appearance and his total inability to sustain a conversation on any
+subject. Of this he seemed to be unaware until we appeared in company
+together. I soon found that the monosyllabic system to which he was
+necessarily confined, it would be necessary for me also to adopt, when
+addressed. This, apart from the tyranny which prompted it, was no trial
+to me, for I never liked going into company, and never was at a party
+which paid me for the bore of dressing.
+
+"Of course I saw all these things as though I saw them not. I was
+perfectly aware of my position, and I resolved, under all circumstances,
+to control myself, and never descend, whatever might transpire, to a war
+of words. I appeared in public as seldom as possible, lest Stahle should
+find cause of offense. I was as scrupulously attentive to him and his
+interests as if I did not know that my best endeavors would now be
+misconstrued. I felt no faltering in my desire to make his innocent
+children happy and comfortable. I spoke to no one of my discomfort. I
+said to myself, I have made a great mistake, and must bear the
+consequences with what fortitude I may.
+
+"I little knew the deadly malignity of Stahle's disposition. I little
+knew the penalty I was to pay for the difference which nature and
+education had made between us.
+
+"One day Stahle came home looking unusually moody and sullen. He found
+his dinner nicely prepared, and the children neatly washed and dressed.
+The parlor was tidy, I was courteous; there was nothing to find fault
+with, nothing to irritate, not the most slender foundation for a
+quarrel.
+
+"Stahle saw this--he could have wished it were otherwise. He was at a
+loss how to proceed. After taking one or two turns across the room, he
+said, 'Gertrude, I want all the children's clothes packed in a trunk,
+and ready by noon to-morrow.'
+
+"'The children,' asked I, in surprise, 'are you going to send the
+children away? Where are they going?'
+
+"'That's my affair,' he rudely answered.
+
+"I asked no questions; I simply said 'The trunk shall be ready,' and
+went on with my sewing. I did not know then as I do now, that it was the
+first of a projected and deliberate series of attempts to injure me, by
+creating the impression that the children were not well cared for. He
+could not well have wounded me more deeply. I--who had so
+conscientiously striven to perform my duty to the motherless. I--who,
+when any little question between the children was to be decided, gave
+the preference to _his_ children, lest I might wrong them even in a
+trifle--those 'trifles,' which, to childhood are matters of as grave
+importance as our adult affairs.
+
+"The cunning malignity of this act was worthy of Stahle. I made no
+complaint, I asked the children no question which I was too proud to ask
+the father. The little trunk was packed, and Stahle remarking that he
+should be gone two days, the carriage drove off. It was some comfort
+that the children ran up to me, and put up their lips spontaneously for
+a kiss, as they were leaving; it was more still that my conscience
+acquitted me before God of any intentional sin of omission toward them.
+
+"I had just begun to see the good effect of systematic training on
+natures sweet and good, though neglected and misdirected. Their
+wardrobes were amply supplied, the books purchased to teach them--and
+now--well, I bore the cross uncomplainingly at least, and when Stahle
+returned, no trace of what had occurred was perceptible in my manner, or
+habits. He was evidently as much at a loss to understand my
+self-control, as to cope with it. He had expected a scene--an outburst
+of indignant feeling--an angry altercation in which his nature might
+vent itself in a brutal reply. He judged me by the women whom he had all
+his life known. He was at fault.
+
+"His next step was to break up housekeeping and board out; for this
+also, he gave me no reason. Whole days he passed without speaking to me,
+and yet, at the same time, no inmate of a harem was ever more slavishly
+subject to the gross appetite of her master. It was now midwinter; I had
+a bad cough, and was suffering from want of flannels and thick
+under-clothes; he furnished me with no funds for the purpose. This was
+to compel me to do what would give him some advantage over me--run in
+debt. I foresaw this, and avoided it, confining myself to my
+insufficient clothing.
+
+"Stahle always selected a boarding-house for our residence, the mistress
+of which was _her own mistress_--(_i. e._, a widow or a single woman).
+Immediately upon going to such a house, a private understanding sprung
+up between Stahle and herself, and the servants taking their cue from
+their mistress, I found it quite impossible to get any thing I wanted.
+This was less of a trial to me than it might have been, had I not been
+accustomed to wait upon myself; but one is necessarily circumscribed in
+a boarding-house; the cellar may not be visited for coal, or the kitchen
+for water, if the landlady does not see fit to have the bells answered;
+neither, if she chooses to decree otherwise, and your husband is in the
+conspiracy, can you be waited on at the table till every one else has
+been served. Stahle often finished his dinner and rose from the table
+while my plate and Arthur's, had not been once filled. He studiously
+insulted me by this public neglect, and to make it still more marked,
+helped every one else, even the men, within reach. Of this, also, I took
+no outward notice.
+
+"One day the landlady came to me with a manner so bland that I was
+instantly on my guard. She complimented my hair, my figure, my manners.
+She wondered I never came down out of my room into the public parlor.
+She intimated that the gentlemen were very desirous of making my
+acquaintance, particularly one, by the name of Voom--with whom, by the
+way, I had seen Stahle leave the house, arm in arm. I saw through the
+plot at once--but received it as if I did not, treated her just as
+civilly as if she were not a female Judas, and resolutely kept my own
+apartment.
+
+"To show you the pettiness of Stahle's revenge, I will mention one or
+two incidents:
+
+"One evening, while walking my room, a needle penetrated the thin sole
+of my slipper, and was at once half buried in my foot. Three times, with
+all my strength, I tried to extricate it; the fourth, and I was still
+unsuccessful; both strength and courage now failed me. Stahle, from the
+other side of the room, looked coolly on, and, with a Satanic smile,
+said, 'Why don't you pull again?' With the courage inspired by this
+brutal question, I seized the protruding point of the needle with my
+trembling fingers, and finally succeeded in withdrawing it.
+
+"That evening sharp pains commenced shooting through my foot, extending
+quite to my side. I began to grow uneasy as they increased, and
+requested Stahle to send for the doctor. This he peremptorily refused to
+do. I waited a while longer, my limb in the mean time growing more and
+more painful. Again I requested Stahle to go for the doctor, or I should
+be obliged to send some one. At this he put on his hat and coat, and
+went out. After a prolonged absence he returned, not with a doctor, but
+a bottle of leeches, which he said 'had been ordered,' and set down the
+bottle containing them on a table at the further end of the room.
+
+"It had become by that time quite difficult for me to step, as the
+needle had penetrated the sole of my foot; but, by the help of chairs,
+I pushed myself along until I reached the bottle.
+
+"I am not given to faintings or womanish fears, but from my childhood I
+have had a shuddering horror of any thing like a snake; so unconquerable
+was this aversion, that I was forced to date it back prior to my birth.
+
+"Stahle was aware of this weakness, and as, with a strong effort at
+self-command, I took up the bottle and then set it down again in a
+paroxysm of terror at the squirming inmates, he laughed derisively. That
+laugh nerved me with new strength. I uncorked the bottle, holding its
+mouth close to my foot, that the leeches might fasten on it, without my
+touching them with my fingers.
+
+"As the first one greedily struck at my foot, I fainted. The effort at
+self-control in my nervous, excited state, was too much for me.
+
+"When I recovered, the broken bottle lay upon the floor, the leeches had
+disappeared, save the one which had fastened upon my foot, and Stahle
+had gone to bed.
+
+"Not long after this, unable to go out myself, I sent my little Arthur
+of a necessary errand. He had attended to it successfully, and was
+returning, when a gig, furiously driven by two young men, turned rapidly
+a street-corner, ran against and prostrated him. Arthur was a very
+spirited little fellow, and, beside, had much of the Spartan in his
+temperament. A policeman who saw the transaction, stepped up and raised
+him upon his feet, the brave child stoutly maintaining that he was 'not
+much hurt.' With all this bravery, Arthur was also shy and sensitive,
+and the gathering crowd and the immediate proximity of the policeman
+annoyed and mortified him. The policeman, however, true to his duty,
+would not leave him, and Arthur, whose love to me no thought of self
+could ever obliterate, gave him the number of Stahle's place of business
+instead of our residence, lest I should be distressed or frightened in
+my invalid state by their sudden appearance.
+
+"The policeman accordingly left him there, satisfied that he would be
+kindly cared for by a father. After he had gone, Stahle put his pen
+behind his ear, his hands in his pockets, and, surveying my boy a
+moment, said, 'Well, sir, go home to your mother.'
+
+"Child as he was, he would have died rather than ask for the conveyance
+which he so much needed, or even for Stahle's helping hand on the
+way--for it was a long distance to our lodgings--and Stahle saw him limp
+out without offering either.
+
+"The door opened, and with white lips my brave boy staggered into the
+room, and briefly narrated his misfortune, still persisting, though the
+pain was even then forcing tears from his eyes, that he was 'not hurt.'
+I took off his clothes, and found his side already quite black with the
+bruise he had received, and so sore that, though he still refrained from
+complaining, he winced at the lightest touch of my finger.
+
+"I had not a cent in my possession. I had not had for a long time, for
+I never had asked Stahle for money. This Stahle knew, and that day and
+night, and half of the following day he purposely absented himself,
+leaving me to get along in these circumstances as best I could with the
+child. On his return he asked no questions and took no notice of the
+occurrence, although Arthur was still a prisoner to the sofa. Not a word
+passed my lips either on the subject, though this, to my maternal heart,
+had been the heaviest trial it had yet been called to bear.
+
+"Time passed on, and Arthur had become convalescent. I was now so
+extremely nervous from mental suffering, that I found it impossible to
+sleep unless I first wearied myself with out-door exercise.
+
+"Tying on my bonnet, I went out one afternoon for the purpose. The noise
+and whirl of the street was an untold relief to me.
+
+"Motion--motion--when the brain reels, and despair tugs at the
+heart-strings!
+
+"On my return I was not obliged to ring at the front door, as some
+persons were standing upon the steps talking; I passed them and my light
+footfall on the carpet, being noiseless, I entered the door of my room
+unheralded.
+
+"Judge of my astonishment when I saw Stahle standing with his back to
+me, quite unaware of my presence, inspecting (by means of false keys)
+the contents of my private writing-desk! opening my husband's letters,
+sacred to me as the memory of his love; reading others from valued
+friends, received before my marriage with Stahle--not one of which, for
+any stain they cast on me, might not have been bared to the world's
+censorious eye.
+
+"He then took up my husband's miniature--O, how unlike the craven face
+which bent over it! At last, I was choking with passion; this was the
+brimming drop in my cup; you might have known it by the low, calm tone
+with which I almost whispered as I laid my trembling hand on my
+treasures--'these are _mine_ not yours--"
+
+"They were the only words which escaped my lips, but there must have
+been something in the tone and in my face, before which his spirit
+cowered. He made no attempt to resist me as I took possession of them,
+but turning doggedly on his heel, muttered: 'the law says you can have
+nothing that is not mine.' O, how many crushed and bleeding hearts all
+over our land can endorse the truth of this brutal answer.
+
+"Stahle began now to spend his nights away from home; I had never yet
+made a complaint or remonstrance except in the case just stated. I did
+not now. If it was his purpose with his usual want of insight into my
+character, to give me a long cord with which to hang myself, it failed,
+for my boy and I slumbered innocently and peacefully.
+
+"You may ask why, with these feelings toward me, he did not desert me;
+for two reasons. 1st. He had a religious character to sustain; during
+all this time he was more constant than ever, if that were possible, at
+every church and vestry-meeting, often taking part in the exercises, and
+always out-singing and out-praying every other church-member. 2d. It was
+his expectation by these continuous private indignities, which many a
+wife suffers in silence, to force _me_ to leave _him_, and thus preserve
+his pietistic reputation untarnished. All these plans, which I perfectly
+understood, failed. He could find nothing upon which to sustain a charge
+against me, either in my daily conduct, or in my private correspondence,
+dated, long years before he knew me, but which the _law allowed him to
+inspect_.
+
+"I contracted no debts because he would not supply my necessary wants. I
+took no advantage of his absence from home to forfeit my own
+self-respect. What was to be done? He must move cautiously, for the
+maintenance of a religious character was his stock in trade.
+
+"Returning from a walk one day with my little Arthur, I found a note on
+my table from Stahle, saying 'that he had suddenly been called South on
+business, and should remain a few days.' I have never seen him since.
+Not that I did not hear from him, for the plan was legally concocted.
+Letters were written to me by him, saying 'that he was searching for a
+good business-situation, and would send for me when he found it.'
+Sending for me to join him, but making no mention of my boy. Sending
+for me to come hundreds of miles away under the escort of his brother,
+whom I had ascertained to have uttered the foulest slanders about me
+(and who was to be my protector and purser on the occasion). Every
+letter was legally worded; 'my dear Gertrude' was at the top of the
+letter, and 'your affectionate husband' at the bottom. They were always
+delivered to me by two witnesses, that I might not dodge having received
+them. And yet each one, though without a flaw in the eye of the law, was
+so managed as to render compliance with it impossible, had I desired to
+rejoin a man who had done, and was still covertly doing, all in his
+power to injure my good name. In the meanwhile, what he dared not do
+openly, he did by the underground railroad of slander; insinuations were
+made by those in his employ; eyebrows were raised, shoulders were
+shrugged, hints thrown out that my extravagance had rendered it
+necessary for him to leave me. (I, who had never asked for a cent since
+our marriage, whose nimble needle had replenished his own and his
+children's dilapidated wardrobes.)
+
+"Men stared insolently at me in the street; women cast self-righteous
+scornful glances; 'friends' worse than foes, were emboldened by _his_
+villainy to subject themselves to a withering repulse from her who
+sought to earn her _honest_ bread.
+
+"Did I go out in search of employment--I was 'parading to show myself.'
+Did I stay within doors--'there was no doubt a good reason why I _dared_
+not go out.' Did I keep my own and my boy's small stock of clothing
+whole, tidy, and neat--'they would like to know who kept me in clothes
+now.'"
+
+"Surely," said Rose, interrupting her, "surely, dear Gertrude, there
+must have been those who knew, and could bear witness, that you were
+good and innocent."
+
+"True," answered Gertrude, "there were those who could do so, but
+admitting this fact, what plausible excuse could they make for not being
+my helpers and defenders on all needful occasions? No, dear Rose, the
+world is a selfish one, and degrading as it is to human nature to assert
+it, it is nevertheless true, that there are many, like those summer
+friends of mine, who would stand by with dumb lips and see the slanderer
+distill, drop by drop, his poison into the life-blood of his victim,
+rather than bring forward, at some probable cost to themselves, the
+antidote of truth in their possession. Even blood relations have been
+known to circulate what they knew to be a slander to cover their
+parsimony. And those people, who are the most greedy listeners to the
+slanderer's racy tale, are the people who "never meddle in such things,"
+when called upon to refute it.
+
+"Did these bitter taunts crush me? Was I to become, through despair, the
+vile thing Stahle and his agents wished?"
+
+"No! The nights I walked my chamber-floor, with my finger-nails
+piercing my clinched palms till the blood came, were not without their
+use. I weighed every faculty God had given me, measured every power,
+with a view to its marketable use. I found one yet untried. I seized my
+pencil, and I triumphed even with the blood-hounds on my track, for God
+helped the innocent."
+
+"Oh, teach me that, strong-hearted, noble Gertrude, teach me that! for I
+have no stay this side Heaven!" and, with sobbing utterance, Rose poured
+into Gertrude's sympathizing heart the checkered story of her life.
+
+Did she whose courage had parted the stormy waters of trouble, and who
+had come out triumphant, turn a deaf ear to that wail of despair?
+
+Is woman _always_ the bitterest foe of her crushed sister? always the
+first to throw a stone at her?
+
+No--God be thanked! For the first time Rose was folded to a loving
+sister's heart, and in the sweet words of Ruth to Naomi, Gertrude said,
+as she bade Rose good-night,
+
+"Whither thou goest I will go; whither thou lodgest I will lodge; naught
+but death shall part thee and me."
+
+
+Was the watchman's midnight cry, "All's well," beneath the window, a
+prophecy?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XL.
+
+
+"Seems to me that you are nudging a fellow for his ticket every five
+minutes," said a lantern-jawed looking individual to the railroad
+conductor, as he roused himself from his nap, and pulled a bit of red
+pasteboard from his hat-band. "I feel as if my gastronomic region had
+been scooped out, and rubbed dry with a crash-towel; how long before we
+stop, hey?"
+
+"Buy some books, sir?" said a young itinerant bookseller to our hungry
+traveler.
+
+"Have you the 'True guide for travelers to preserve their temper?'" said
+our friend to the urchin.
+
+The boy looked anxiously over the titles of his little library, and
+replied, with a shake of the head, "No, sir, I never heard of it."
+
+"Nor I either," responded the hungry growler; "so get about your
+business; the best book that was ever written can neither be ate nor
+drank; I'd give a whole library for a glass of brandy and water this
+minute," and the unhappy man folded his arms over his waistband, and
+doubled himself up like a hedgehog in the corner.
+
+"I am always sure to get a seat on the sunny side of the cars, and next
+to an Irish woman," muttered a young lady. "I wonder do the Irish never
+feed on any thing but rum and onions?"
+
+"Very uncomfortable, these seats," muttered a gentleman who had tried
+all sorts of positions to accommodate his vertebræ; "the corporation
+really should attend to it. I will write an article about it in my
+paper, as soon as I reach home. I will annihilate the whole concern;
+they ought to remember that editors occasionally travel, and remember
+which side their bread is buttered. Shade of Franklin! how my bones
+ache; they shall hear of this in 'The Weekly Scimeter.' It is a
+downright imposition."
+
+In fact, every body was cross; every body was hungry and begrimed with
+dust; every body was ready to explode at the next feather's weight of
+annoyance.
+
+Not every body; there was one dear little girl who found sunshine even
+there, and ran about extracting honey from what to others were only
+bitter herbs. Holding on by the seats, she passed up and down the narrow
+avenue between the benches, peeping with the brightest smile in the
+world into the faces of the cross passengers, drinking from the little
+tin-cup at the water-tank, clapping her hands at the sound of the
+whistle, and touching the sleeve even of the hedgehog gentleman rolled
+up in the corner. The child's mother sat on the back seat, looking after
+her as kindly as she was able; but, poor thing, traveling made her
+sick, and she held her camphor-bottle to her nostrils, and leaned
+gasping against the window-sill to catch every stray breath of air.
+
+What's that?
+
+Crash goes the window-glass; clouds of scalding steam pour into the
+cars, which seem to be vibrating in mid-air; benches, baskets, bags, and
+passengers are all jumbled pell-mell together; every face is blanched
+with terror.
+
+"Oh, it's nothing, only the cars run off the track--only the engine
+smashed, and baggage-car a wreck--only the passengers' trunks
+disemboweled in a muddy brook--only the engineer scalded, and the
+passengers turned out into a wet meadow in a pelting shower of rain;
+that's all. Not a son of Adam was to blame for it--of course not,"
+growls the exasperated editor. "Thank Heaven the Superintendent of the
+road and the Directors were in the forward car and got the first baptism
+in that muddy brook."
+
+"Zounds!" he exclaimed, pinning up his torn coat-flap, and punching out
+the crown of his hat; "they shall hear of this in 'The Weekly Scimeter.'
+Railroad companies should remember that editors sometimes travel."
+
+"May! my little May!" gasped the poor sick woman, recovering herself,
+and looking about for her child; "where's May?"
+
+Ah, where's May? Folded in His arms who carries the little lambs so
+safely in his bosom--gone with the smile yet bright on her lip.
+
+Blithe little May!
+
+They take the little lifeless form and bear it across the fields to the
+nearest farm-house, and the mother falls senseless, with her face to the
+damp grass--the last tie of her widowed heart broken.
+
+"Sad accident, ma'am--hope you are not hurt," said the bustling village
+doctor to a lady who held her handkerchief over her mouth. "Deplorable!"
+exclaimed the delighted doctor. "My engagements are very pressing in the
+village--five cases of typhoid fever, two of chicken-pox--hurried up
+here in the face of promise to a lady, wife of one of our richest men,
+not to be gone over half an hour, in _case_ she should want me. Ladies
+can't always tell _exactly_, you know, ma'am.
+
+"Jaw-bone fractured? I'm somewhat in a hurry. Senator Scott's wife, too,
+was very unwilling I should leave my office--;" and the doctor drew out
+a Lepine watch, as if his moments were so much gold-dust--as if he had
+not sat in his leathern chair, week in and week out, watching the
+spiders catch flies, and wishing he were a spider, and the flies were
+his patients.
+
+"Jaw-bone broke, ma'am?" he asked, again.
+
+"She is not hurt at all, I tell you," growled Mr. Howe, shaking the rain
+from his hat, as he stood knee-deep in the tall meadow-grass. "She lost
+her set of false teeth in the collision, and if you jabber at her till
+the last day you won't catch her to open her mouth till she gets another
+set."
+
+"_Mr._ Howe," said that gentleman's wife, in a muffled voice from behind
+the handkerchief, "how _can_ you?"
+
+"How can I? I can do any thing, Mrs. Howe. Are not our trunks all
+emptied into that cursed brook? All that French trumpery spoiled for
+which you have been draining my pocket all the spring to go to Saratoga.
+Did I want to come on this journey? Don't I hate journeying? Haven't I
+been obliged to go a whole day at a time with next to nothing on my
+stomach? Haven't I been poked in the ribs every fifteen minutes for the
+conductor to amuse himself by snipping off the ends of my railroad
+tickets? Don't my head feel as if Dodworth's brass band were playing
+Yankee Doodle inside of it? Refreshments! Yes--what are the
+refreshments? A rush round a semicircular counter by all sorts of
+barbarians--bowls of oysters, scalding hot, and ten minutes to swallow
+them--tea without milk--coffee without sugar--bread without butter, and
+unmitigated egg--no pepper--no salt--no nothing, and, seventy-five cents
+to pay; the whole thing is an outrageous humbug; and now here's this
+collision, and your false teeth gone, not to mention other things."
+
+Another muffled groan from behind the handkerchief.
+
+"I'll have damages, heavy damages--let me see, there is the teeth,
+$200."
+
+"Good heaven's, Mr. Howe," shrieked his wife--"you don't mean to mention
+_them_ to the corporation?"
+
+"But I do, though," said John, "you never will be easy till you get
+another set, and I mean they shall find 'em."
+
+Another groan from behind the handkerchief.
+
+"Passengers, please go through the meadow, and the cow-yard, yonder, and
+cross the stile to get into the cars beyond," shouted the brakeman.
+
+Down jumped the ladies from their perches on the fences where they had
+been roosting, like draggled hens in the rain, for the last half hour,
+and all made a rush for the cow-yard.
+
+"There now, Mrs. Howe--do you hear that? A pretty tramp through that
+high grass for your skirts and thin gaiter-boots. This is what tourists
+call the delights of traveling, I suppose--humph."
+
+"We shan't get to ---- till the middle of the night, I suppose--_i. e._,
+provided the conductor concludes not to have another smash-up. There
+will be no refreshments, of course, to be had, that are good for any
+thing, at that time o' night; waiters sleepy and surly, and I as hungry
+as a bear who has had nothing but his claws to eat all winter. Pleasant
+prospect that. You needn't hold up your skirts Mrs. Howe; there's no
+dodging that tall grass. Trip to Saratoga! Mr. John Howe and
+lady--ha--ha! Catch me in such a trap again, Mrs. Howe."
+
+Precisely at two o'clock in the morning, our hungry and jaded travelers
+arrived at ----. A warm cup of tea and some cold chicken, somewhat
+mollified our hero, and he was just subsiding into that Christian frame
+of mind common to his sex when their hunger is appeased, when happening
+to remark to the waiter who stood beside him, that he was glad to find
+so good a supper so late at night--that worthy unfortunately replied:
+
+"Oh--yes! massa! de cars keep running off de track so often dat we have
+to keep de food ready all de time, 'cause dere's no knowing, you see,
+when de travelers will come; and dey is always powerful hungry."
+
+"Do you hear that?" said Mr. Howe to his wife, who was munching, as well
+as she was able, behind her handkerchief; "and we have got to go back
+the same road. You may not want that other set of teeth, after all, my
+dear."
+
+"Sh--sh--sh--" said that lady, treading not very gently on his corns
+under the table--"are you mad, Mr. Howe?"
+
+"Yes," muttered her husband--"stark, staring mad, I have been mad all
+day--mad ever since I started on this journey; and I shall continue mad
+till I get back to St. John's Square and my old arm-chair and
+slippers;" and long after the light was extinguished, Mr. Howe was
+muttering in his sleep, "I'll have damages--let me see, there's $200 for
+the teeth."
+
+From that journey Mr. Howe dated his final and triumphant Declaration of
+Domestic Independence. The spell of Mrs. Howe's cabalistic whisper was
+broken. Mr. Howe had a counter-spell. Mrs. Howe's day was over. Mr. Howe
+could smoke up stairs and down stairs, and in my lady's chamber; he
+could brush his coat in the best parlor; put his booted feet on the
+sofa, and read his political newspaper as long as he pleased. The word
+"damages," arrested Mrs. Howe in her wildest flights, and brought her to
+his feet, like a shot pigeon.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLI.
+
+
+A knock at the door--it was Chloe, with her gay bandanna, and shining
+teeth, and eyeballs. She had come to take Charley out, ostensibly "for
+an airing," but in fact to make a public exhibition of him, for, in her
+eyes, he was the very perfection of childish beauty.
+
+"He's tired, missis, stayin' in de house," said Chloe, as Charley crept
+toward the door, "let me take him out a bit;" and Chloe raised him from
+the floor, and tied his cap down over his bright curls, stoutly
+resisting all Rose's attempts to cover his massive white shoulders,
+promising to protect them from the sun's rays, with her old-fashioned
+parasol.
+
+Rose smiled, as Chloe sauntered off down the street with her pretty
+charge; Charley's dimpled hand making ineffectual attempts to gain
+possession of the floating ends of her gay-colored head-dress.
+
+And well might Chloe be proud of him; she had been nurse to many a fair
+southern child in her day, but never a cherub like Charley. One and
+another stopped to look at him. Mothers who had lost their little ones,
+fathers in whose far-absent homes crowed some cherished baby-pet, and
+blessed little children, with more love than their little hearts could
+carry, stopped, and asked "to kiss the baby."
+
+Chloe was in a halo of glory. It was such a pity that missis was not
+rich, that she might be Charley's nurse. She was sure she was not,
+because her clothes and Charley's, though nice, had been so carefully
+repaired, and then Chloe fell to romancing about it.
+
+"Chloe?"
+
+"Oh, missis, is that you? Berry glad to see you," said the negress, with
+a not ungraceful courtesy, as she tried to keep out of the way of the
+lady's prancing horses.
+
+"Whose lovely baby is that?" asked the old lady, putting on her glasses,
+"hand him to me, Chloe."
+
+The old lady seemed to be strangely moved as Chloe sat him on her knee,
+and tears chased each other down her face.
+
+"He is so like, Chloe, so like my poor dear boy at his age; just such
+eyes, just such a forehead, just such beautiful shoulders--poor Vincent!
+Whose child is it, Chloe?" asked the old lady, as she untied the baby's
+cap, and pushed back the curls from his forehead.
+
+"He belongs to a northern lady I have been nursing, missis. _She_ is
+berry handsome, too."
+
+"I can't spare him, yet," said the old lady, as Chloe held out her arms
+for him. "I can not let him go; see, he likes me," said she,
+delightedly, as Charley, with one of his caressing little ways, laid
+his head down on her shoulder. "He is my dear Vincent back again. Get
+in, Chloe, I'll drive you where you want to go. I can not give up the
+child yet."
+
+The gay, prancing horses, with their flowing tails and manes, the
+silver-mounted harness, and the bright buttons of the liveried coachman,
+sent a brighter sparkle to the baby's eyes, and a richer glow to his
+cheeks. He crowed, and laughed, and clapped his little hands, till
+wearied with pleasure, and lulled by the rapid motion of the carriage,
+his little limbs relaxed, and he fell asleep.
+
+What is so lovely as a sleeping babe?
+
+The evening star gemming the edge of a sunset cloud? the bent lily too
+heavy with dew to chime its silver bells to the night wind? the closed
+rose-bud whose fragrant heart waits for the warm sun-ray to kiss open
+its loveliness?
+
+Unable to account for the powerful magnetism by which she was drawn to
+the beautiful child, the old lady sat, without speaking, passing her
+fingers over his ivory arm, and gazing upon the rich glow of his cheek,
+the perfect outline of his limbs, and the shining curls of his
+clustering hair.
+
+"Is this baby's mother a widow, Chloe?" she asked, at length.
+
+"I think so, missis--I don't know--I ax no questions."
+
+"Is she wealthy?"
+
+"Lor', bless you, no, missis; her clothes all mended berry carful."
+
+"I wish I had this baby," said the old lady, half musingly, as she again
+looked at Charley.
+
+"Oh, Lor', missis, she lub him like her life--'t ain't no use, I tink."
+
+The old lady seemed scarcely to hear Chloe's answer, but sat looking at
+Charley.
+
+"It would be a great comfort to me," she continued. "Where does his
+mother live, Chloe?"
+
+"In ---- street," answered the negress.
+
+"That is close by, I will drive you to the door, and you must ask leave
+to bring him to see me, Chloe;" and impressing a kiss on the face of the
+sleeping child, she resigned him to his nurse.
+
+
+Rose sat rocking to and fro in her small parlor, in a loose muslin
+wrapper, and little lace cap, languid from the excitement of the
+previous day, thinking of Gertrude, and wishing she had but a tithe of
+that indomitable energy to which obstacles only served as stimulants;
+and then Gertrude was talented, what had _she_ but her pretty face? and
+that, alas! had brought her only misery!
+
+"Come in," said Rose, in answer to a slight tap on the door.
+
+"Ah, sit down, Gertrude. Chloe has just carried Charley away, and I am
+quite alone."
+
+"I must make a sketch of that ebony Venus, some day," said Gertrude.
+
+"I confess," said she, as she seated herself in Rose's little
+rocking-chair, "to a strong penchant for the African. His welling
+sympathies, his rollicksome nature, and his punctilious observance of
+etiquette in his intercourse with his fellows, both amuse and interest
+me.
+
+"Your genuine African has dancing in his heels, cooking at his fingers'
+ends, music on his lips, and a trust in Providence for the supply of his
+future wants equaled only by the birds of the air.
+
+"He dances and prays with a will, nor thinks the two inconsistent, as
+they are not. You should have gone with me, Rose, to an African church
+not long since. I had grown weary of fine churches, and superfine
+ministers, and congregations so polished that they had the coldness as
+well as the smoothness of marble. I wearied of tasseled prayer-books,
+with gilt clasps, and all the mummeries which modern religionists seem
+to have substituted for true worship.
+
+"So I wandered out into the by-streets and poor places to find _nature_,
+rough and uncultivated though it might be. A tumble-down looking church,
+set among some old tenement-houses, caught my eye. Bareheaded children
+were hanging round the door, scarcely kept in abeyance by a
+venerable-looking negro sexton in the porch, with grizzled locks and
+white neckerchief, whose admonitory shakes of the head habit had
+evidently made second nature, as he bestowed them promiscuously, right
+and left, till service was closed.
+
+"I entered and took my seat among the audience. No surly pew occupant
+placed a forbidding hand on the pew door. Seats, hymn-books, crickets,
+and fans were at my disposal. The hymn was found for me. I found myself
+(minus 'a voice') joining in the hearty chorus. Who could help it? 'God
+save the King' and the Marseillaise were tame in comparison. Every body
+sang. It was infectious. The bent old negress, with her cracked voice,
+her broad shouldered, muscular son, her sweet-voiced mulatto daughter,
+and her chubby little grandchild, with swelling chest, to whom Sunday
+was neither a bugbear nor a bore. And such _hearty_ singing!--sometimes
+too fast, sometimes too slow, but to my ear music, because it was soul,
+not cold science.
+
+"It was communion-Sabbath, and so I went up to the chancel and knelt
+side by side with my dusky friends. The clergyman was a white man, and
+it was millennial to see his loving hand of blessing laid on those dusky
+brows. This is as it should be, said I--this is worship; and as we
+retired to make room for other communicants, the clergyman himself
+stepped forward to assist to the chancel a gray old negress, of
+fourscore years, whose tottering steps were even then at the grave's
+brink. I went home happy, for I had not fed on husks.
+
+"Ah! visitors? Then I must run," said Gertrude, springing up at a rap
+on the door.
+
+"It is Chloe, I fancy," said Rose.
+
+"Well, good-by," said she, stooping to kiss Charley, whom she passed on
+the threshhold, "I must back to my easel. Ah! it is the locket you want,
+not me, you rogue," said she to Charley, as she disengaged a chain from
+her neck, and threw it over the child's, "mercenary, like the rest of
+your sex."
+
+Chloe marched in with Charley, who, now wide awake, sat perched upon her
+shoulder, looking as imperial as young Napoleon.
+
+"This yere boy has got to go, missis," said Chloe, still marching round
+the room, as if treading all objections under foot. "Whar's his frocks
+and pinafores? My ole missis. Vincent, see him, and take him to ride in
+her fine carriage, and cry over him, cause she say he so berry like her
+poor murdered boy."
+
+"De Lor'! missis," exclaimed Chloe, "how white you look! Whar's your
+salts?"
+
+"Open the window," said Rose, faintly, "the room is too close, Chloe."
+
+"Thar--will you hab some water, missis? you ain't nowise strong yet,"
+said Chloe. "Hadn't you better lie down, missis?"
+
+"No, thank you. What were you saying, Chloe, about Charley?"
+
+"Well, you see, my ole missis. Vincent, she gib me my freedom, you
+know; good missis, but hab berry bad son; berry handsome, but berry bad;
+bad for wine, and bad for women; gambled, and ebery ting; broke his ole
+fadder's heart clean in two, and den got killed hisself by some bad
+woman.
+
+"Ole missis berry rich now, but her money ain't no comfort, cause she
+hab to lib all alone. To-day she met me wid Massa Charley here. De Lor',
+how she did take on! She say he look jess like young Massa Vincent, when
+he was little piccaninny, and she kiss him, and hold him, and hab such a
+time ober him, and noting would do but he must go ride in de carriage,
+and she bring us way home to de door.
+
+"She wants you, missis, to let her hab Charley. I told her you wouldn't,
+certain," said Chloe, with a scrutinizing glance at Rose, for in truth,
+Chloe secretly wished, in that African heart of hers, that the matter
+might be brought about, and that she might be installed nurse for the
+handsome boy.
+
+"No, of course, you wouldn't, missis; but wouldn't it be a fine thing
+for _you_, Massa Charley?" said she, perching him on the edge of her
+knee, "to ride all de blessed time in dat fine carriage, and one day hab
+it all yourself, and de house, and de silver, and de money, for missis
+hab no relations now, no chick, nor child, and you're just handsome
+enough to do it," said Chloe, with another sly glance at Rose's face.
+"You're jess born for dat same--dat's a fac--so ole Chloe tinks, yah,
+yah--jess as well to laff about it, missis," said the cunning Chloe, "no
+harm in dat, you know; but he took to the ole lady jess as nat'ral, and
+set up in her lap, just as if he belonged dere in dat carriage; it made
+ole Chloe laff--yah, yah. Massa Charley, he make his way in de world wid
+dat handsome face of his'n. Ole Chloe is always stumbling on good luck,"
+said the old negress, laughing, "all for dis," said she, exhibiting an
+old metal "charm" attached to a string inside her dress. "Good-by--we
+shall see. I come for you agin, Massa Charley, for my ole missis berry
+childish, when she wants a ting she _will_ hab it, and de debbel hisself
+can't help it--yah, yah."
+
+As the door closed on old Chloe's weird figure, Rose almost felt as if
+her words were prophecies. What if the law of nature should set aside
+all other law and bring in a verdict for Charley? Should she, regardless
+of her strong maternal feelings, yield him up? Away from _her_ he would
+escape the taunt of his birth, and yet how could she school her heart to
+such a parting. What was wealth and position compared to high moral
+principle and a pure life? If Vincent's mother knew not how to instill
+these into her own son, might she not wreck Charley on the same fatal
+rock? But what wild dream was her brain weaving? She could not, would
+not deceive Madam Vincent, and then would there not be a revulsion of
+feeling when the proud old lady knew the truth? for how could Rose
+mention the great wrong she had suffered, and not wound the doting
+mother's heart? or how could she yield up Charley to one who would
+ignore his mother? No, no. She would think no more of it; and yet that
+Vincent's mother should have petted and fondled, even unconsciously,
+Vincent's boy--there _was_ comfort in that thought.
+
+
+"Are you well enough to receive a visitor this morning," asked Doctor
+Perry, as he entered the room.
+
+"Physicians do not consider it necessary to ask that question," said
+Rose, with some little embarrassment in her manner. "I have much to
+thank you for, doctor, and am none the less grateful for your kind
+attentions, that I was unconscious of them. But how happened it?" asked
+she, with surprise. "I thought you had left town with Captain Lucas. How
+did you find us?"
+
+"No," said the doctor, "I was unexpectedly detained by business. The
+morning of the day you were taken ill, happening to pass, I saw you
+accidentally at the window, and resolved to call that very evening. It
+happened quite opportunely, you see."
+
+"Yes--thank you; I think I had become overpowered with the heat and
+fatigue."
+
+"I was apprehensive of brain fever," said the doctor; "you talked so
+incoherently."
+
+Rose's face instantly became suffused, and the doctor added kindly:
+
+"Whatever I may have heard, is of course, safe with me, Rose."
+
+"No one else heard?" she asked.
+
+"No one. Your landlady is too deaf, and Chloe seemed absorbed in taking
+care of Charley, and preparing your medicines."
+
+"Rose," said the doctor, "if my possession of your secret distresses
+you, suppose I give you one in exchange: I had, and have, no business in
+New Orleans, save to watch over you and yours. Every weary footstep of
+yours, my eye has tracked; nay, do not be angry with me, for how could
+love like mine abandon your helplessness in this great strange city? I
+am not about to weary you by a repetition of what you have already
+heard, or distress you by alluding to what you unconsciously revealed. I
+know that your heart is cold and benumbed; but Rose, it is not dead. You
+say you are grateful to me for what, after all, was mere selfishness on
+my part, for my greatest happiness was, though unseen, to be near you. I
+will be satisfied with that gratitude. Will you not accept _for life_,
+my services on those terms?" and the doctor drew his chair nearer to
+Rose, and took her hand in his own.
+
+"You know not what you ask," mournfully replied Rose. "You are deceiving
+yourself. You think that in time, gratitude will ripen into a warmer
+feeling. I feel that this can never be. My heart has lost its spring; it
+is capable only of a calm, sisterly feeling, and the intensity of your
+love for me would lead you after awhile to weary of, and reject this;
+you would be a prey to chagrin and disappointment. How can I bring such
+a misery on the heart to whose kindness I owe so much?"
+
+"Rose, you do not know me," said the doctor, passionately. "Do not judge
+me by other men. As far as my own happiness is concerned, I fearlessly
+encounter the risk."
+
+"Then," said Rose, thoughtfully, "there would be dark days when even
+_your_ society would be irksome to me, when solitude alone could restore
+the tension of my mind."
+
+"I should respect those days," replied her lover; "I would never intrude
+upon their sacredness; I would never love you the less for their
+recurrence."
+
+"Then," said the ingenuous Rose, blushing as she spoke, "the sin which
+the world wrongly imputes to me will never be forgiven of earth. As your
+_wife_ I must appear in society; how would you bear the whisper of
+malice? the sneer of envy?--no, no!" said Rose, while tears stole down
+her face; "I must meet this alone."
+
+"Rose, you shall not choose!" said the doctor, passionately. "I must
+stand between you and all this; I declare to you that I will never leave
+you. If you refuse me the right to protect you legally, I will still
+watch over you at a distance;--but oh Rose, dear Rose, do _not_ deny me.
+I have no relations whose averted faces you need fear; my parents are
+dead. I had a sister once; but whether living or dead I know not. There
+are none to interfere between us; let us be all the world to each other.
+
+"Charley! plead for me," said the doctor, as he raised the beautiful
+child in his arms; "who shall pilot your little bark safely? _This_
+little hand is all too fragile," and he took that of Rose tenderly in
+his own--"Nay, do not answer me now; I am selfish so to distress you,"
+said he, as Rose made an ineffectual attempt to speak;--"think of it,
+dear Rose, and let your answer be kindly; oh, trust me, Rose."
+
+As he stooped to place Charley on the floor, the locket which the child
+had around his neck became separated from the chain to which it was
+attached, and, striking upon the floor, touched a spring which opened
+the lid; under it was a miniature. The doctor gazed at it as if
+spell-bound.
+
+"Where did you get this, Rose? Surely it can not be yours," and a deadly
+paleness overspread his face.
+
+"It belongs to a lady who boards here," said Rose, "and who transferred
+it from her neck to Charley's this morning. Has it any interest for
+you?"
+
+"What is her name? let me see her!" said the doctor, still looking at
+the picture.
+
+"Her name? Gertrude Dean," said Rose.
+
+"Dean?" repeated the doctor, looking disappointed, "Dean? Rose, that is
+a picture of my own father."
+
+While they were speaking, Gertrude tapped on the door. "My locket, dear
+Rose; I hope 'tis not lost."
+
+Turning suddenly, her eye fell upon the doctor. With a wild cry of joy
+she flew into his arms, exclaiming, "My brother! my own long-lost
+Walter!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLII.
+
+
+"Good morning, missis," and Chloe's turbaned head followed the
+salutation. "Didn't I tell you dat Massa Charley be born wid a silver
+spoon in his mouf? His dish right side up when it rains, for certain.
+
+"See here, missis," and she handed Rose a small package, containing a
+pair of coral and gold sleeve-ties for Charley's dimpled shoulders.
+"Didn't I tell you dat missis couldn't lose sight of him? and she sent
+me here for him to come ride in de carriage wid her again to-day, and
+eat dinner at de big house, and all dat," and Chloe rubbed her hands
+together, and looked the very incarnation of delight.
+
+"Well," said Rose, "Charley has nothing fine to wear; only a simple
+white frock, Chloe."
+
+"All de same, missis; he handsome enuff widout any ting. Missis must
+take powerful liking to give him dese; dey are Massa Vincent's gold
+sleeve-ties _he_ wore when _he_ little piccaninny like Charley dare."
+
+Rose took them in her hand, and was lost in thought.
+
+"Jess as good, for all dat, missis," said Chloe, thinking Rose objected
+to them because they were secondhand. "Missis wouldn't gib dem away to
+every body, but she say Charley so like young Massa Vincent, dat she
+couldn't talk of nuffing else de whole bressed time. Hope you won't tink
+of sending them back, missis," said Chloe, apologetically; "she is old
+and childish, you know."
+
+"No," said Rose, sadly; "Charley may wear them;" and she looped them up
+over his little white shoulders, with a prayer that his manhood might
+better fulfill the promise of _his_ youth.
+
+"Ki!" exclaimed Chloe, as she held him off at arm's length. "Won't ole
+missis' servants--Betty, and Nancy, and Dolly, and John, and de
+coachman, and all dat white trash, tink dey nebber see de like of dis
+before? And won't Massa Charley make 'em all step round, one of dese
+days, wid dem big black eyes of his?"
+
+Chloe's soliloquies were very suggestive, and Rose sat a long while
+after her departure analyzing Charley's disposition, and wondering if
+the seeds of _such_ a spirit lay dormant in her child, waiting only the
+sun of prosperity to quicken them into life. How many mothers, as they
+rocked their babes, have pondered these things in their hearts; and how
+many more, alas! have reaped the bitter harvest of those who take no
+thought for the soul's morrow!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIII.
+
+
+"And so you will not give me the poor satisfaction of punishing and
+exposing the scoundrel who has treated you so basely?" said John to his
+sister, as they sat in her little studio.
+
+"No," said Gertrude; "he has taken that trouble off your hands--he has
+punished himself. He has traveled all over the Union in search of
+employment, and succeeded in nothing he has undertaken. He has met with
+losses and disappointments in every shape, and occupies, at present, a
+most inferior business position, I am told. Now that I have become
+famous, and it is out of his power to injure me, he quails at the
+mention of my name in public, and dreads nothing so much as recognition
+by those who are acquainted with his baseness. He sneaks through life,
+with the consciousness that he has played the part of a scoundrel--what
+could even you add to this?"
+
+"But the idea of such a miserable apology for a man getting a divorce
+from a sister of _mine_," said John, striding impatiently across the
+room. "Why did you not anticipate him, Gertrude? and with right on your
+side, too."
+
+"Had I been pecuniarily able to do so," replied Gertrude, "I had not
+the slightest _wish_ to oppose a divorce, especially as I knew it could
+be obtained on no grounds that would compromise me. For months after
+Stahle left me, and, indeed, before, he and his spies had been on my
+track. Had there been a shadow of a charge they could have preferred
+against my good name, _then_ would have been their hour of triumph! I
+have a copy of the divorce papers in my possession, and the only
+allegation there preferred is, that I did not accept Stahle's invitation
+to join him when he wrote me, in the manner I have related to you."
+
+"But the world, Gertrude, the world," said the irritated John, "will not
+understand this."
+
+"My dear John," said Gertrude, "they who _desire_ to believe a lie, will
+do so in the face of the clearest evidence to the contrary. But I have
+found out that though a person (a woman especially) may suffer much from
+the bitter persecution of such persons, from the general undeserved
+suspicion of wrong, and from the pusillanimity of those who _should_ be
+her defenders, yet even in such a position, a woman can never be injured
+_essentially_, save by her own acts, for God is just, and truth and
+innocence will triumph. I am righted before the world; my untiring
+industry and uprightness of life are the refutal of his calumnies. Leave
+him to his kennel obscurity, my dear John. I do not _now_ need the blow
+that I am sure you would not have been slow to strike for me had you
+known how your sister was oppressed."
+
+"I don't know but you are right, Gertrude, and yet--if he ever should
+cross my path, my opinion might undergo a sudden revulsion. Does he
+still keep up the show of piety?"
+
+"So I have heard," said Gertrude. "The first thing he does, when he goes
+into a new place is to connect himself with some church. What a pity,
+John, such men should bring religion into disrepute."
+
+"You think so, do you? And yet you refuse to expose it. It is just
+because of this that so many hypocrites go unmasked. Sift them out, I
+say--if there is not a communicant left in the church. I do not believe
+in throwing a wide mantle over such whited sepulchers."
+
+"Do you suppose," said Gertrude, "that they whose houses are built on
+such a sandy foundation will quietly see them undermined? _Such_ a hue
+and cry as they will raise (all for the honor of the cause, of course!)
+about your 'speaking lightly of religion and its professors!'"
+
+"Very true," said John, "it is speaking lightly of its _professors_ but
+not of its _possessors_. They might as well tell you to keep dumb about
+a gang of counterfeiters, lest it should do injury to the money-market;
+bah! Gertrude, I have no patience with such tampering; but to dismiss an
+unpleasant topic, you have plenty of employment, I see;" and John
+glanced round the room at Gertrude's pictures. "I am proud of you,
+Gertrude; I honor you for your self-reliance; but what is your fancy,
+with your artistic reputation, for living such a nun's life?"
+
+"Well," said Gertrude, "in the first place, my time is too valuable to
+me to be thrown away on bores and idlers, and the Paul Pry family, in
+all its various ramifications. Autograph hunters I have found not
+without their use, as I never answer their communications, and they find
+me in letter stamps. But _entre nous_, John, I have no very exalted
+opinion of the sex to which you belong.
+
+"Men are so gross and unspiritual, John, so wedded to making money and
+promiscuous love, so selfish and unchivalric; of course there are
+occasionally glorious exceptions, but who would be foolish enough to
+wade through leagues of brambles, and briars, to find perchance one
+flower? Female friends, of course, are out of the question, always
+excepting Rose, whose title is no misnomer. And as to general society,
+it is so seldom one finds a congenial circle that, having resources of
+my own, I feel disinclined to encounter the risk."
+
+"This isolation is unnatural; Gertrude, you can not be happy."
+
+"Who is?" asked Gertrude. "Are you? Is Rose? Where is the feast at
+which there is no skeleton? I make no complaint. I enjoyed more
+happiness in the five years of my first wedded life than falls to the
+lot of most mortals in a life-time. I know that such an experience can
+not be repeated, so I live on the past. You say I am not happy; I am
+negatively happy. If I gather no honey, I at least escape the sting."
+
+"I wish for my sake, Gertrude, you would go into society. I can not but
+think you would form new ties that would brighten life. As a woman, you
+can not be insensible to your attractive power."
+
+"I have no desire to exert it," replied Gertrude; "there are undoubtedly
+men in want of housekeepers, and plenty of widowers in want of nurses
+for their children. My desires do not point that way."
+
+"You are incorrigible, Gertrude. Do you suppose there is no man who has
+sense enough to love you for yourself alone?"
+
+"What if I do not want to be loved?" asked his sister.
+
+"But you do," persisted John; "so long as there is any vitality in a
+women, she likes to be loved."
+
+"Well, then, granting your proposition for the sake of the argument,
+please give me credit for a most martyr-like and persistent
+self-denial," said Gertrude, laughing.
+
+"I will give you credit for nothing, till your heart gets thawed out a
+little; and I think I know a friend of mine who can do it."
+
+"Forewarned forearmed," said his sister.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIV.
+
+
+"Rose, you are not looking well, this morning. Confess, now, that you
+did not sleep a wink last night. I heard the pattering of your little
+feet over my head long after midnight."
+
+"Very likely, for I was unaccountably restless. I will tell you what
+troubled me. I was trying to think of some way to support myself; I wish
+I had a tithe of your energy, Gertrude."
+
+"Well you have not, you are just made to be loved and petted. You are
+too delicate a bit of porcelain to be knocked and hustled round amid the
+delf of the world. Your gift is decidedly wife-wise, and the sooner you
+let my good brother John make you one, the better for all of us."
+
+"What do you think of my turning authoress?" asked Rose, adroitly
+turning the subject.
+
+"Oh, do it, by all means," mocked Gertrude, "it is the easiest thing in
+the world to write a book. It would be just the thing for a little
+sensitive-plant like you. I think I see it fairly launched. I think I
+see you sit down with the morning paper in your hand to read a
+criticism on it, from some coarse pen, dressed in a little brief
+authority, in the absence of some editor; a fellow who knows no
+difference between a sun-flower and a violet, and whose daily
+aspirations are bounded by an oyster supper, or a mint-julep. I think I
+see you thumped on the head with his butchering cleaver, every nerve
+quivering under the crucifixion of his coarse scalpel."
+
+"But surely there are those who know a good book when they see it, and I
+mean to write a good book."
+
+"You little simpleton, as if that would save you! Do you suppose you
+will be forgiven for writing a _good_ book? No, my dear; the editor of
+'The Daily Lorgnette,' takes it up, he devours a chapter or two, he
+begins to fidget in his chair, he sees there is genius in it, he gets up
+and strides across his office, he recollects certain books of his own,
+which nobody ever read but his publishers and himself, and every word he
+reads irritates that old sore. The next day, under the head of book
+notices you will see the following in the Daily Lorgnette:--
+
+"'Gore House, by Rose Ringdove.'
+
+"'We have perused this book; it is unnecessary to state in its
+title-page that it was written by a _female_ hand. The plot is feeble
+and inartistic. In dialogue, the writer utterly fails; the heroine,
+Effie Waters, is a stiff, artificial creation, reminding us constantly
+of those females painted on the pannels of omnibuses, convulsively
+grasping to their bosoms a posy, or a poodle. There is an indescribable
+and heterogeneous jumbling of characters in this volume. The authoress
+vainly endeavors to straighten out this snarl in the last chapter, which
+has nothing to recommend it but that it _is_ the last. We advise the
+authoress of 'Gore House' to choose some other escape-valve for her
+restless femininity; petticoat literature has become a drug in the
+market.'
+
+"How do you like that?" said Gertrude, laughing.
+
+"Well, the editor of the 'Christian Warrior' sits down to read 'Gore
+House,' he takes out his spectacles, and wipes them deliberately on his
+red-silk pocket-handkerchief, he adjusts them on the bridge of his
+sagacious nose; he reads on undisturbed until he comes to the
+description of 'Deacon Pendergrast,' who is very graphically sketched as
+a 'wolf in sheep's clothing.' Conscience holds up the mirror, and he
+beholds _himself_, like unto a man who sees his natural face in a glass.
+Straightway he sitteth down, and writeth the following impartial
+critique of the book:
+
+"'We have read "Gore House." We do not hesitate to pronounce it a _bad_
+book, unfit to lie on the table of any _religious_ family. In it,
+_religion_ is held up to ridicule. It can not fail to have a most
+pernicious influence on the minds of the young. We hope Christian
+editors all over the land will not hesitate, out of courtesy to the
+authoress, to warn the reading public of this locomotive poison.'
+
+"The editor of the 'Christian Warrior' then hands the notice to his
+foreman for an early insertion, puts on his hat, and goes to the
+anniversary of the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel, of which
+he is president.
+
+"The editor of the 'John Bull' reads 'Gore House.' He is an Englishman,
+and pledged to his British blood, while he makes his living out of
+America, to abuse, underrate, and vilify, her government, institutions,
+and literature, therefore he says, curtly:
+
+"'We have received "Gore House"--they of course who wish for
+_literature_, especially female literature, will look the other side of
+the Atlantic." He then takes one of the most glowing passages in 'Gore
+House,' and transposing the words slightly, passes it off for editorial
+in his own columns.
+
+"The editor of 'The Timbrel' reads Gore House. He has a female relative,
+Miss Clementina Clemates, whose mission she thinks is to be an
+authoress. In furtherance of this design of hers, he thinks it policy to
+decry all other rival books. So he says:
+
+"'We have read "Gore House." We ought to say we have _tried_ to read it.
+The fact is, the only lady book recently published that we can heartily
+recommend to our readers is "Sketches of the Fireside, by Clementine
+Clemates."'
+
+"The editor of the 'Dinsmore Republican' reads the book. He is of the
+Don Quixote order, goes off like an old pistol half primed, whenever the
+right chord is struck. Gore House takes him captive at once. He wishes
+there were a tournament, or some such arrangement, by which he could
+manifest his devotion to and admiration of the authoress. He throws down
+the book, unties his neckcloth, which seems to be strangling him,
+loosens his waistband button to give his breathing apparatus more play,
+throws up the window, runs his fingers through his hair, till each one
+seems as charged with electricity as a lightning-rod, and then seizing
+his goose-quill, piles on the commendatory adjectives till your modesty
+exclaims, in smothering agony, 'Save me from my friends, and I will take
+care of my enemies.'"
+
+"But tell me," said Rose, "is there no bright side to this subject you
+can depict me?"
+
+"Oh, yes," said Gertrude, "there are editors who can read a book and
+deal fairly and conscientiously by it and its author, who neither
+underrate nor overrate from fear or favor, who find fault, not as an
+escape-valve for their own petulance or indigestion, but gently, kindly,
+as a wise parent would rebuke his child--editors on whose faith you can
+rely, whose book reviews are, and can be, depended upon, who feel
+themselves accountable to other than a _human_ tribunal for their
+discharge of so important a public trust."
+
+"Well," said Rose, in despair, "if I might be Sappho herself I could
+not run such a gauntlet of criticism as you have described."
+
+"Far happier to be Cornelia with her jewels," said Gertrude, snatching
+up the beautiful Charley (I take it Cornelia had a glorious husband).
+"Fame is a great unrest to a true woman's heart. The fret, and tumult,
+and din of battle are not for her. The vulgar sneer for which there is
+no preventive, save the unrecognized one of _honor_; the impertinent
+tone of familiarity, supposed to be acceptable by those to whom a
+woman's heart is yet a sealed book; what are tears to oppose to such
+bludgeon weapons? No, the fret and din of battle are not for her; but
+if, at the call of trumpet-tongued necessity, she buckle on the armor,
+let her fight with what good courage her God may give her, valuing far
+above the laurel crown, when won, the loving hearts for which she
+toils--which beat glad welcome home."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLV.
+
+
+Miss Anne Cooper was a maiden lady of forty-two; a satellite who was
+well contented to revolve year after year round Madame Vincent, and
+reflect her _golden_ rays. Madame Vincent had been a beauty in her day,
+and was still tenacious of her claims to that title. It was Miss Anne's
+constant study to foster this bump of self-conceit, and so cunningly did
+she play her part, so indignantly did she deny the advances of Old Time,
+that madame was flattered into the belief that he had really given her a
+quit claim.
+
+Miss Anne's disinterested care of the silver, linen, and store-room was
+quite praiseworthy to those who did not know that she supplied a family
+of her relatives with all necessary articles from the Vincent resources.
+It was weary waiting for the expected codicil, and Miss Anne thought "a
+bird in the hand was worth two in the bush;" so if she occasionally
+abducted a pound or two of old Hyson or loaf-sugar, or a loaf of cake,
+or a pair of pies, she reasoned herself into the belief that they were,
+after all, only her lawful perquisites.
+
+Yes, it was weary waiting for the codicil. Madame Vincent was an
+invalid, 'tis true; but so she had been these twenty years, having one
+of those india-rubber constitutions, which seem to set all medical
+precedents at defiance. She might last along for ten years to come--who
+knew?
+
+Ten years! Miss Anne looked in the glass; the crow's-feet were planted
+round her own eyes, and it needed no microscope to see the silver
+threads in her once luxuriant black locks. Not that Miss Anne did not
+smile just as sweetly on her patroness as if she would not at any time
+have welcomed a call upon her from the undertaker. Miss Anne's voice, as
+she glided through the house with her bunch of keys, had that oily,
+hypocritical whine which is inseparable from your genuine toady, be it
+man or woman.
+
+Miss Anne sat in the "blue chamber" of the Vincent mansion--a chamber
+that had once been occupied by young Master Vincent. Whether this gave
+it a charm in the lady's eyes or no, Miss Anne never had said. It was
+true that young Master Vincent, when he had nothing else to do, amused
+himself with irritating Miss Anne up to the snapping-point. They scarce
+met without a war of words, half jest, half earnest; but for all that,
+young Vincent's every wish was anticipated by Miss Anne. It was she who
+reinserted the enameled buttons in his vests, when they came from the
+laundress; it was she who righted his room, and kept all his little
+dandy apparatus (in the shape of perfumes, gold shirt-buttons, hair-oil,
+watch-guards, rings, etc.) in their appropriate places.
+
+Your D'Orsay abroad, is generally a brute at home; selfish, sarcastic,
+ill-tempered, and exacting where he thinks it does not pay to be
+otherwise. All this Miss Anne turned aside with the skill and tact of a
+woman; occasionally quite quenching him with her witty replies, and
+forcing him to laugh even in his most diabolical moods. To be sure he
+would mutter some uncanonical words after it, and tell her to go to the
+torrid zone; and Miss Anne would smile as usual, drop a low courtesy,
+and glide from his presence; sometimes to go round making all sorts of
+housekeeping blunders; sometimes to sit down in her room, with her hands
+folded in her lap, and her great black eyes fixed immovably on the
+carpet, for all the world just as if Miss Anne were in love.
+
+Old maids have their little thoughts; why not?
+
+On the present occasion, as I have said, Miss Anne sat in "the blue
+chamber." She was paler than usual, and her Xantippe lips were closed
+more firmly together. The thread of her thoughts seemed no smoother than
+the thread between her fingers, beside breaking which she had broken six
+of Hemming's best drilled-eyed needles. At length, pushing the stool
+from beneath her feet, she threw down her work and strode impatiently up
+and down the apartment.
+
+"To be balked after serving this Leah's apprenticeship, by a baby! and
+by _that_ baby! I could love it for its likeness to _him_, did it not
+stand in my way. It was such doll faces as that baby's mother's which
+could fascinate Vincent, hey?--soulless, passionless little automatons.
+Ye gods! and how _I_ have loved him, let these sunken eyes and mottled
+tresses bear witness," and Miss Anne looked at herself in the glass.
+"That is all past now; thank heaven, that secret dies with me. Who would
+ever suspect _me_ of falling in love?" and Miss Anne laughed
+hysterically. "And now that hope died out, that baby is to come between
+me and my expected fortune!
+
+"Simple Chloe! She little thought, when she repeated to me what she
+called 'her young mistress's crazy ravings,' that _I_ could 'find a
+method in that madness.' Love is sharp-sighted; so is policy. That baby
+shall never come here. It should not, at any rate, for the mother's
+sake, pretty little fool!
+
+"Madame will 'adopt' the baby, forsooth! She will fill the house with
+bibs and pinafores, and install me as head nurse, and to _that_ child!
+All my fine castles to be knocked down by a baby's puny hand! We shall
+see.
+
+"That old dotard, to adopt a baby at _her_ time of life, when she ought
+to be thinking of her shroud."
+
+
+"Ah, Anne, you there," said a voice at the door, "and busy as usual?"
+
+"Yes, dear madame, work for you is only pastime."
+
+"You were always a good creature, Anne," and madame tapped her
+affectionately on the shoulder.
+
+"How very well you are looking to-day," said Anne. "Mourning is
+uncommonly becoming to you. Becky and I were saying this morning, as you
+passed through the hall, that no one would suppose you to be more than
+thirty."
+
+"S-i-x-t-y, my dear, s-i-x-t-y," replied the old lady, cautiously
+closing the door; "but you should not flatter, Annie."
+
+"It is not flattery to speak the truth," said Anne, with a mock-injured
+air.
+
+"Well, well, don't take a joke so seriously, child; what everybody says
+_must_ be true, I suppose," and madame looked complacently in the glass.
+
+"Anne, do you know I can not think of any thing but that beautiful
+child? Don't you think his resemblance to our Vincent very remarkable?"
+
+"Very, dear madame, I am not at all surprised at your fancying him. He
+is quite a charming little fellow."
+
+"Isn't he, though?" exclaimed madame, with a pleased laugh; "do you know
+Anne I have about made up my mind to adopt him? I shall call him Vincent
+L'Estrange Vincent."
+
+"How charming!" said Anne, "how interesting you will look; you will be
+taken for his mother."
+
+"Very likely," said madame. "I recollect we were quite an object of
+attraction the day we rode out together; I think I _am_ looking youthful
+Anne."
+
+"No question of it, my dear madame--here--let me rearrange this bow in
+your cap; that's it; what execution you must have done in your day,
+madame."
+
+"I had _some_ lovers," replied the sexegenarian widow, with mock
+humility, as she twisted a gold circlet upon her finger.
+
+"If report speaks true, their name was legion; I dare say there is some
+interesting story now, connected with that ring," suggested Anne.
+
+"Poor Perry!" exclaimed madame--"I _didn't_ treat him well; I wonder
+what ever came of him; _how_ he used to sigh! What beautiful bouquets he
+brought me--how jealous he was of poor dear Vincent. I was a young,
+giddy thing then; and yet, I was good-hearted, Anne, for I remember how
+sorry I used to be that I couldn't marry _all_ my lovers. I told Perry
+so, one day when he was on his knees to me, but he did not seem as much
+pleased as I expected. I don't think he always knew how to take a
+compliment.
+
+"Poor Perry!
+
+"I couldn't help liking him, he had such a dear pair of whiskers, quite
+à-la-corsair--but Vincent had the money, and I always needed such a
+quantity of dresses and things, Anne.
+
+"Well--on my wedding-day, Perry walked by the house, looking handsomer
+than ever. I believe the creature did it on purpose to plague me. He had
+on white pants, and yellow Marseilles vest, salmon-colored neck-tie, and
+_such_ a pretty dark-blue body-coat, with brass buttons; _such_ a fit! I
+burst out a crying; I never saw any thing so heart-breaking as that
+coat; there was not a wrinkle in it from collar to tail. I don't think I
+should ever have got over it, Anne, had not my maid Victorine just then
+brought me in a set of bridal pearls from Vincent; they were really
+sumptuous.
+
+"Poor dear Perry!
+
+"Well--I was engaged to him just one night; and I think the moon was to
+blame for that, for as soon as the sun rose next morning, I knew it
+would not do. He was poor, and it was necessary I should have a fine
+establishment, you know. But poor Perry! I never shall forget that blue
+body-coat, never--it was such a fit!"
+
+"The old fool!" exclaimed Anne, dismissing the bland smile from her face
+as the last fold of madame's dress fluttered through the door; "after
+all, she might do worse than to adopt this child. I could easier get rid
+of that baby than her second husband. I must rein up a little, with my
+flattery, or she may start off on that track.
+
+"Poor Perry, indeed!" soliloquized Anne, "what geese men are! how many
+of them, I wonder, have had reason to thank their stars, that they did
+not get what their hearts were once set on. Well--any will-o'-the-wisp
+who trips it lightly, can lead any Solomon by the nose; it is a
+humiliating fact;" and Miss Anne took a look at herself in the glass;
+"sense is at a discount; well, it is the greatest compliment the present
+generation of men could have paid me, never to have made me an offer."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVI.
+
+
+"And you, then, are the mother of the beautiful child, I wish to adopt?"
+asked Madame Vincent, gazing admiringly at Rose.
+
+Our heroine's long lashes drooped upon a cheek that crimsoned like the
+heart of a June rose, as she timidly answered:
+
+"Yes, madame."
+
+"You are extremely pretty, child, and very young to be a mother. Have
+you any other children?"
+
+"None," replied Rose, "but Charley."
+
+"And you would not give him up to me?" asked madame, coaxingly. "Do you
+think his father would object?"
+
+"His father is dead, madame," said Rose, in a low voice.
+
+"Pardon me, child, I did not know that you were a widow. _I_ am a widow.
+It is very dull, being a widow; don't you think so, dear? Did your
+husband leave you property?"
+
+"No," replied Rose, answering the inexcusable question, for she could
+not bear to seem disrespectful to Vincent's mother.
+
+"That is a pity, dear; my husband left me plenty. I shall will it all
+to Charley, if you will only give him up to me. What was your husband's
+name, dear."
+
+"Vincent L'Estrange Vincent;" answered Rose, startled at the strange
+sound of her own voice.
+
+"Singular! Same name as my son's," said madame, "Very singular."
+
+"He _was_ your son;" said Rose, in the same strange, cold tone.
+
+"My son never was married;" replied madame.
+
+"God knows he told me we were so, and I believed him," answered Rose.
+
+"He made believe marry you, then, did he?" asked the childish old lady.
+"He did that to a great many women, I believe. Gentlemen often do such
+things, so they tell me. Your child is of course illegitimate then."
+
+Rose's lips moved, but no answer came.
+
+"And what do you intend to do with him, child?"
+
+"Bring him up to despise the sin of which his father was guilty,"
+replied Rose, boldly.
+
+"Oh yes, that's all very proper; but if you give him to me, there will
+be no occasion ever to mention it at all, or _you either_, child."
+
+"Madame," said Rose, with a proud dignity. "Is it a mother who speaks to
+a mother such words as these? You love _your_ son none the less that he
+made _my_ name a reproach and a by-word, crimsoned my innocent cheek
+with shame, dimmed my eyes with unavailing tears. Shall I, think you,
+love _my_ son the less that _your son_ deserted him? Shall I love my son
+the less that through days and nights of tearful anguish his smile, his
+love, was all of heaven I ever dared to look for?"
+
+"Oh, certainly not--oh, of course not," replied the old lady, nervously;
+"but you know he may not _always_ love you as well as he does now, when
+he knows--"
+
+"In God I put my trust;" said Rose, as tears streamed from her eyes.
+
+"Well, don't cry, child--don't cry. I hate to see people cry. All I
+wanted to say was, that you would always be a drag on him, if he tried
+to rise in the world; but don't cry. It is right for you to trust in
+God, every body ought to be pious, it is so respectable. I have been
+confirmed myself; but don't cry, it will spoil your handsome eyes. You
+are young yet, perhaps somebody may marry you, if you keep quiet about
+this."
+
+"I would never so deceive any man," answered Rose, with dignity.
+
+"_Deceive!_ oh, no, child, that would be _very_ wrong. I only meant that
+you should say nothing about it; that is a different thing, you see. Now
+I loved a Mr. Perry much better than I did my husband, but it would have
+been quite foolish had I allowed it to be known, you know, because
+Vincent was very rich, and it was necessary I should have a handsome
+establishment. Oh, no! of course I do not approve of deception, that is
+very wrong, but there _are_ cases where it is best for a woman to keep
+quiet. Well, how about Charley? have you quite decided not to part with
+him?"
+
+"Quite," said Rose, "Charley must remain with me;" and, with a dignified
+air, she bowed madame to her carriage.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVII.
+
+
+"A regular little romance, I declare," said madame, laying off her black
+bonnet, and fanning herself languidly, "quite a little romance.
+
+"_Vincent's_ boy! no wonder he is so handsome; no wonder I was so
+attracted toward him. Vincent was a little wild, but very likely that
+young thing did _her_ part of the courting. She is very handsome, and,
+with a little instruction under other circumstances--with a little
+instruction from me, I say, she would be quite presentable in society.
+
+"It is very odd she would not give up Charley. I thought that style of
+people were always glad to get rid of their children; in fact, I think
+it her _duty_ not to stand in the child's light. She is a Puritanical
+little puss, and quite queenly, too, for a Magdalen. I was quite dashed,
+as one may say, once or twice, by her manner, although I pride myself on
+my self-possession. She is really quite superior to her station; but
+Vincent, dear boy, always had indisputable taste; there never was a
+taint of grossness about him.
+
+"He was very fastidious. I remember I put off his father's funeral one
+whole day, in order that the tailor might alter the coat-collar of his
+new mourning-suit. Yes, and he was so sensitive, too, poor dear! he felt
+his father's death so much that he was obliged to go directly from the
+grave to the club-house, to dissipate his mournful thoughts.
+
+"Ah! Anne, is that you? sit down; I have just returned. Do you know, the
+mother of that baby refused to give him up. She says it is one of our
+Vincent's children. She is a very pretty young woman, Anne--not a
+high-bred beauty, of course; that you never see, except in aristocratic
+circles, still, she is quite pretty."
+
+"Very," replied Anne, quite nonchalantly.
+
+"Ha! you have seen her, then?" asked madame, with some surprise.
+
+"My dear madame, I really would prefer saying nothing upon the subject.
+I answered your first question frankly, because I make it a point never
+to deceive you; but I really wish you would not question me, I dislike
+so much to speak ill of any one."
+
+"But I insist upon knowing, Anne; in fact, I think it is quite unkind of
+you to have any secrets from me, so long as you have been in my
+confidence, too."
+
+"Ah, well, dear madame, if you insist, I suppose I must yield, for I can
+refuse you nothing. The person you have been to see this morning is an
+arrant impostor. She is playing a deep game with you; her refusal is not
+sincere; she expects you will return and persist in asking for Charley,
+and intends then to make money out of the operation."
+
+"Well, she is very much mistaken, then," said the old lady, indignant,
+as easily duped people are, who always fancy themselves a match for any
+double and twisted diplomatist, "very much mistaken, for I shall never
+go near her again. Then that story was all trumped up she told me about
+the baby being our Vincent's."
+
+"Certainly," said Anne; "I tell you, my dear madame, she has played that
+game on several people beside you."
+
+"Possible?" said the old lady, fanning herself violently; "the impudent
+little baggage! But how did you find it all out, Annie?"
+
+"Ah! there, you must really excuse me, my dear madame. My informant is
+so afraid of being involved, that I was sworn to the strictest secrecy
+on that point, but, I assure you, my authority is reliable."
+
+"I have no doubt of it, my dear Anne, if _you_ say so. But why did you
+not speak of it before?"
+
+"Well, that was my first impulse, of course; but you see how it was. I
+was placed in very delicate circumstances, dear madame. Here I am a
+dependent on your bounty; you have been always like a kind mother to me;
+your heart was set on adopting this child; had I opposed it, you might
+have suspected my motives; that thought was too painful for me; and so,
+up to this time, when you extorted it from me, I have been
+vacillating," and Anne looked lachrymose.
+
+"You dear, good creature," exclaimed madame, "you always had the best
+heart in the world. You should not have tortured yourself so
+unnecessarily, Anne. You know I never would imagine you guilty of such
+mean motives. You may have my brown silk dress, Anne, and the dark blue
+brocade. I had never worn either when I was called into mourning. I
+declare, Anne, you have the best heart in the world. You need not blush
+about it, child," said madame, as Anne covered her face with her
+handkerchief to conceal a laugh. "You are too modest by half, Anne; but
+it is always so with real merit."
+
+
+"What an invaluable creature that Anne is," exclaimed madame, as she
+went out of the door in pursuit of the brown silk. "To think of the
+brazen-facedness of that young woman! I declare I could not have
+believed any body could tell a lie with such an innocent face. It is
+really almost past belief; what an invaluable creature Anne is. I never
+should be able to get along without her. I must go to Mme. Descomb's and
+select her a new dress hat. Just to think now of the impudence of that
+Rose.
+
+"I must furnish Anne with means to go on some little excursion. I think
+I will buy her that pretty music-box I saw yesterday.
+
+"How wide awake Anne is to my interests! Had it not been for her I
+might have been taken in by that scheming young woman. I hope nobody saw
+me go to her house; I must warn Chloe against her, it will not do for
+her to go there again."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVIII.
+
+
+Rose was sitting in her little parlor giving Charley his morning bath;
+the water was dripping from his polished limbs, and he was laughing and
+splashing about with the nude grace of a young sea-god; now catching his
+breath, as his head was immersed under water; now shaking back his
+dripping curls, and flashing upon you his dark bright eyes, as if life
+were all sunshine, and his infant sky were cloudless.
+
+"I sall inform you zat you can leave my maison--my house--dis morning,"
+said Rose's French landlady, entering the room without a preliminary
+rap. "You understand, mademoiselle--_dis morning_, I say--you are von
+bad woman, mademoiselle."
+
+Twice Rose opened her lips to speak, but the color receded from her lips
+and cheeks, and she stood terror-struck and speechless.
+
+"Zat is all ver' well," said madame, quite accustomed to see her
+country-women strike an attitude. "Zat is all ver' well; you did not
+expect I sall know any ting about it, but one personne tell me zat I
+know; you can go, for you are von bad woman."
+
+"What is all this?" exclaimed Gertrude, opening the door and seeing
+Rose's pallid face and madame's angry gesticulations.
+
+"Ah, ha! she has impose on you too!" exclaimed Madame Macqué. "She von
+ver' sly woman--ver' bad; she no' stay in my house long time."
+
+"Woman!" said Gertrude, throwing her arm around Rose, "this is my
+sister; every word you speak against her you speak against me. She is as
+pure as that sweet child. If she leaves your house, I leave it."
+
+"Ver' well--_trés bien_," said madame, shaking her overloaded French
+head-dress; "you can go, den--von day you see I tell you de truf when I
+say she von--"
+
+"Don't repeat that again, in my hearing," said Gertrude, standing before
+her with sparkling eyes.
+
+"Speak, Rose--dear Rose!" said Gertrude, kissing her cold face, as
+madame left the room. "Speak, Rose; do not let that miserable bundle of
+French trumpery crush so pure and noble a heart as yours. We will go
+away, Rose--you, and I, and dear little Charley. And, oh, Rose! when
+could I have a better time to plead for my brother's happiness, for
+yours, for my own? Put it beyond the power of any one to poison your
+peace, Rose; be _indeed_ my sister."
+
+Rose's only reply was a low shuddering sob, as she drew closer to
+Gertrude.
+
+
+"Just as good as new," said Miss Anne, looking complacently at herself
+in the brown silk. "Anne, you should be prime minister; you have a
+talent for diplomacy; femininity is too circumscribed a sphere for the
+exercise of your talents. You did that well, Anne--Madame Vincent thrown
+completely off the track, Rose crushed and out of your way forever; the
+baby ditto. Madame Macque is very careful of her reputation in _this_
+country, because she never had any in France. Ha--ha, Anne, you are a
+genius--and this brown silk is a proof of it. Now, look out for presents
+about this time, for your star is at its culminating point. Rose has
+beauty--has she? Vincent fancied her--did he? A rose's doom is to fade
+and wither--to be plucked, then trodden under foot;" and Miss Anne
+laughed one of her Satanic laughs.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIX.
+
+
+Sally came into the kitchen just as the clock was striking seven. The
+Maltese cat heard the old clock, jumped up, and shook herself, just as
+if her dream of a ducking at the hands of the grocer-boy were true.
+Three stray cockroaches--cockroaches, like poor relatives, will intrude
+into the best-regulated families--scampered before Sally's footsteps to
+their hiding-places, and the little thieving brown mouse on the dresser
+took temporary refuge in the sugar-bowl.
+
+Sally had been up stairs performing her afternoon toilet by the aid of a
+cracked looking-glass, which had a way of multiplying Sally's very
+suggestive to her crushed hopes. Sally, I am sorry to say, had been
+jilted. Milkmen do not always carry the milk of human kindness in their
+flinty bosoms. Time was when Jack Short never came into the kitchen with
+his can, without tossing Sally a bunch of caraway, or fennel, a nosegay
+of Bouncing Bettys, or a big apple or pear. Time was when his whip-lash
+always wanted mending, and it took two to find a string in the closet to
+do it, and two pair of hands to tie it on when found.
+
+"Poor old thing!" the faithless John would now say to the rosy little
+plumptitude who had won his heart away from the angular Sally; "Poor old
+thing! I was only fooling a little, just to keep my hand in, and she
+thought I was in love."
+
+Sally had as much spirit as the rest of her sex, and so to show John
+that she was quite indifferent about the new turn in their affairs, she
+set the milk-pan, into which he was to pour his morning's milk, out into
+the porch, and closed the kitchen-door in his false face, that he might
+have nothing upon which to hinge an idea that she wanted to see him. And
+more; she tied the yellow neck-ribbon he gave her on the last fourth of
+July round the pump-handle, and if John Short had not been blind as well
+as "short," he must have seen that "when a woman will--she will, you may
+depend on't," and "when a woman won't--she won't, and there's an end
+on't."
+
+Poor Sally, before she saw John, had lived along contentedly in her
+underground habitations, year after year, peeling potatoes, making
+puddings, washing, ironing, baking, and brewing; nobody had ever made
+love to her; she had not the remotest idea what a Champagne draught love
+was. She could have torn her hair out by the roots, when she did find
+out, to think she had so misspent her past time. It really _did_ seem to
+her, although she was squint-eyed, that there was nothing else in this
+world of any account at all. She had thought herself happy when her
+bonnet was trimmed to suit her, or her gown a good fit; but a love-fit!
+ah, that was a very different matter. Poor Sally! mischievous John!--the
+long and short of it was, if Bouncing Bettys have any floral
+significance, Sally should have been Mrs. Short.
+
+Of course, she had no motive on the afternoon we speak of, to look long
+in the cracked looking-glass; it made no difference now whether she wore
+her brown calico with the little white dots, or her plaid delaine with
+the bishop sleeves; there was no use in braiding her hair, or in putting
+on her three-shilling collar; she had resigned herself to her fate. She
+even threw a pitcher of hot water at the innocent organ-grinder, because
+he played Love's young Dream.
+
+Still you see, she goes on mechanically with her work, putting the
+tea-kettle over the fire, setting the six brass lamps in a regular row
+on the mantle, and tucking the ends of some clean towels, out of sight,
+in the half-open bureau-drawers. Sally is neat; but John Short's little
+Patty is plump and rosy.
+
+Ah! now she has some company--there is Miss Harriet Place, who has the
+misfortune to have so stiff a neck that when she turns it, her whole
+body must follow. Miss Harriet has black eyes, affects the genteel, and
+speaks of "my poor neck" in a little mincing way, as if its stiffness
+were only a pretty little affectation on her part. Her cronies wink at
+this weakness, for Miss Harriet has a gift at trimming their bonnets,
+and putting finishing touches to all sorts of feminine knicknacks; then,
+here comes Alvah Kittridge, who is a rabid Free-will Baptist, and who
+lives at Mayor Treadwell's! where they have such fine dinners; at which
+the Mayor drinks a great deal, and "finds fault very bad," with every
+thing the next morning. Miss Alvah pays her way as she goes, both in
+stories, and maccaroons; the former her own, the latter Mayor
+Treadwell's.
+
+Last, but by no means least, comes Mrs. Becky Saffron, all cap-border
+and eyes, the only other noticeable thing about her being her mouth,
+which displays, in her facetious moods, two enormous yellow tusks, one
+upper and one under, reminding the observer of a hungry catamount; this
+resemblance scarce diminishes on acquaintance, as Mrs. Becky, like all
+the skinny skeleton-ish tribe, is capable of most inordinate guzzling
+and gorging.
+
+"Glad to see you, Miss Place," said Mrs. Becky (giving her cap-border a
+twitch), and getting on the right side of that stiff-necked individual,
+"I have not set eyes on you these six months."
+
+"No," minced Miss Place; "I called at your boarding-house, and they said
+you had gone somewhere, they could not tell where."
+
+"Oh, I'm nobody; of course they wouldn't know; I'm nobody. I'm down in
+the world, as one may say. I'm nobody but 'Becky.' I come and go;
+nobody cares, especially when I _go_," and Mrs. Becky gave her two
+yellow tusks an airing.
+
+"I left my old place some time ago. I'm to _broth_-er's now." Mrs. Becky
+always pronounced the first syllable of this word like the liquid
+commonly designated by that syllable. "Yes, I'm to _broth_-ers now. His
+wife never wanted me in the house. She's dreadful pert and stuck-up, for
+all she was nobody; so I have always been boarded out, and been given to
+understand that my room was better than my company. But something queer
+has happened. I can't find out what, only that _broth_-er has got the
+whip-rein of his wife now, and has it all his own way; so he came and
+told me that it would cost less for him to keep me at St. John's Square
+than to board me out; so there I am.
+
+"It is no use for _broth_-er's wife to teach me about silver forks and
+finger-bowls, about not doing this, or that, or t'other thing; can't
+teach an old dog new tricks. But I let her fret. I am not afraid of her
+now, for whenever she gets on her high horse, _broth_-er fetches her
+right off with the word "damages." I can't tell for the life of me what
+it means. I've seen her change right round when he whispered it, as
+quick as a weather-cock, and it would be all fair weather in one minute.
+It's curious. How do you like your new place, Alvah?"
+
+"Places are all about alike," said Alvah, dejectedly. "See one, you see
+all. Damask and satin in the parlor; French bedsteads and mirrors in my
+lady's chamber, and broken panes of glass up in the attic; lumpy straw
+beds, coarse, narrow sheets, torn coverlets, and one broken table and
+chair, will do for the servants' room. Always fretting and fault-finding
+too, just as if we had heart to work, when we are treated so like dogs;
+worse than dogs, for young master's Bruno has a dog-house all to
+himself, and a nice soft bed in it; which is more than I can say. I
+declare it is discouraging," said Alvah. "It fetches out all the bad in
+me, and chokes off all the good. Mistress came down the other day and
+scolded because I washed myself at the kitchen sink. Well, where should
+I wash? There is neither bowl, pitcher, wash-stand, or towels furnished
+in my attic, and, after cooking over the fire all day, it isn't reason
+to ask any body not to wash wherever they can get a chance. It don't
+follow that I like dirt, because I have to do dirty work. I can't put
+clean clothes over a soiled skin. I feel better-natured when I am
+clean--better-tempered and more human like. When I first went out to
+live, I was conscientious like; but now, I know it is wicked, but I get
+ugly and discouraged, and then I don't care. I say if they treat me like
+a dog, I shall snatch a bone when I can get it. Mistress, now, wants
+breakfast at just such a time. She is too stingy to find me in proper
+kindling for my fire, so in course it keeps going out as fast as I
+light it, and _henders_ me; and then she gets in a fury 'cause breakfast
+don't come up. Well, I stood it as long as I could; now I pour lamp-oil
+on the wood to make it kindle; that does the business. I reckon it isn't
+no saving to her not to buy kindling. I know it isn't right; but I get
+aggravated to think they don't have no bowels for us poor servants."
+
+Mrs. Becky Saffron paid little attention to this narrative. There was
+more attractive metal for her on the tea-table, upon which Sally had
+just placed some smoking hot cakes, and a fragrant pot of tea. Mrs.
+Becky's great yellow black eyes rolled salaciously round in her head,
+and her two tusks commenced whetting themselves against each other,
+preparatory to a vigorous attack on the edibles.
+
+"Green tea!" exclaimed Mrs. Becky, after the first satisfactory
+gulp--"not a bit of black in it--that's something like;" and untying her
+cap-strings, she spread her white handkerchief over her lap, and gave
+herself up to the gratification of her ruling passion, next to gossip.
+"How _did_ you come by green tea in the kitchen?" asked the delighted
+Mrs. Becky.
+
+"Oh, I laid in with the housekeeper," answered Sally; "she has dreadful
+low wages, and has hard work enough to get even that. I iron all her
+muslins, and she finds me in green tea. 'Live, and let live,' you know."
+
+"That reminds me," minced Miss Place, who sometimes set up for a wit,
+"that's what I read on the side of a baker's cart the other day, 'Live,
+and let live;' but, unfortunately, right under it was written 'Pisin
+cakes!'"
+
+About half an hour after this, Mrs. Becky choked over her sixth cup of
+tea; Miss Place's pun had just penetrated her obtuse intellect.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER L.
+
+MR. FINCH FINELS TO TOM CORDIS.
+
+
+     "Dear Tom,--
+
+     "The next best thing to seeing you, you witty dog, is reading one
+     of your letters; but accept a little advice from one who has had
+     experience, and don't throw away so many good things on one
+     individual; economise your bon-mots, my dear fellow, spread them
+     over your private correspondence as sparingly as they do butter on
+     bread at boarding-schools. Ah! you will grow wiser by and by, when
+     you find out how very rare is an original idea. Why--we literary
+     people, if by chance we improvise one in conversation, always stop
+     short after it, and turning to our friends say, 'Now remember,
+     that's _mine_, don't you use it, for I intend putting it in my next
+     book.'
+
+
+     "What am I doing, hey? Living by my wits, though not in the way of
+     literature, which I find does not pay; for there has been such a
+     surfeit of poor books that even a good one is now eyed with
+     suspicion.
+
+     "At present, however, I am, thanks to Mrs. John Howe, in a
+     comfortable state of wardrobe and purse. You should see this Venus!
+     Who can set bounds to the vanity of woman? (This is in Proverbs, I
+     believe; if it is not it ought to be.) At any rate, woman's vanity
+     is the wire I am now pulling, to keep me in bread and butter.
+
+     "Mrs. John Howe is old, ugly, and shrewish; how she _would_ rave,
+     if she saw this! All her married life, she has led her husband by
+     the nose. John is a good-natured, easy fellow, with no brains or
+     education to speak of. Latterly, something has turned up between
+     them, deuce knows what, I don't; but Richard is himself again,
+     smokes when and where he likes, and goes round like the rest of us.
+
+     "You will see that he is improving when I tell you that he has
+     bought his wife off to mind her own business, and let him mind his,
+     by an allowance of so much a year; and here's where the interest of
+     my story comes in, my dear boy, for just so long as I can make Mrs.
+     John believe that she is as young as she ever was, (and as
+     beautiful, as by Jove! she _never_ was), and that I can not exist
+     one minute out of her presence, why so much the more hope there is
+     for my tailor and landlady, confound them! _En passant_: I dare say
+     _you_ might wince a little at the idea of being supported by a
+     woman; that only shows that you have not yet learned to recognize
+     'the sovereignty of the individual.' But the best thing is yet to
+     come. Mrs. John imagines herself a blue-stocking! though she can
+     not spell straight to save her life, and has not the remotest idea
+     whether Paris is in Prussia or Ireland. You should hear her mangle
+     Italian, which she has just begun. It makes my very hair stand on
+     end; I see where it is all tending. She asked me the other day
+     about the divorce law; as if I would _marry_ the old vixen! Never
+     mind, so long as the money holds out I shall hoodwink her even in
+     this.
+
+     "Write soon. I saw little Kate last week, fresh as a Hebe, and
+     beautiful as nobody else ever was, or can be. Pity she is such a
+     little Puritan! She would be irresistible were it not for that
+     humbug. I live in hope that contact with the world, and intercourse
+     with me, will eradicate this, her only weakness. Bless her sweet
+     mouth, and witching eyes.
+
+     "Yours, as usual,
+     FINELS."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LI.
+
+
+"The dirge-like sound of those rapids," said Rose, as she tossed on her
+pillow at the public-house, at Niagara, vainly courting sleep; "it
+oppresses me, Gertrude, with an indescribable gloom."
+
+"Your nerves are sadly out of tune, dear Rose; it will be quite another
+affair to-morrow, _i. e._, if the sun shines out. Niagara's organ-peal
+will then be music to you, and the emerald sheen of its rushing
+waters--the rosy arch, spanning its snowy mist--beautiful beyond your
+wildest dream! And that lovely island, too. Dear Rose, life, after all,
+is very beautiful. But how cold your hands are, and how you tremble; let
+me try my sovereign panacea, music;" and drawing Rose's head to her
+breast, Gertrude sang--
+
+
+     "Tarry with me, oh, my Saviour!
+       For the day is passing by;
+     See! the shades of evening gather,
+       And the night is drawing nigh.
+     Tarry with me! tarry with me!
+       Pass me not unheeded by.
+
+     "Dimmed for me is earthly beauty,
+       Yet the spirit's eye would fain
+     Rest upon Thy lovely features--
+       Shall I seek, dear Lord, in vain?
+     Tarry with me, oh, my Saviour!
+       Let me see Thy smile again.
+
+     "Dull my ear to earth-born music;
+       Speak Thou, Lord! in words of cheer;
+     Feeble, faltering, my footstep;
+       Leaps my heart with sudden fear.
+     Cast _Thine_ arms, dear Lord, about me,
+       Let me feel Thy presence near!"
+
+
+"Poor Rose," sighed Gertrude, as she kissed her closed lids, laid her
+head gently back upon the pillow, and released the little hand within
+her own. "If she could only bear up under this new trial; she is so pure
+and good that the thought of the sin the world wrongly imputes to her is
+wearing her life away. This journey, which I hoped would do so much for
+her, may fail after all. Poor wronged Rose! how can it be right the
+innocent should thus suffer?" but ere the murmur had found voice the
+answer came:
+
+
+     "For right is right, since God is God,
+       And right the day must win:
+     To doubt, would be disloyalty--
+       To falter, would be sin."
+
+
+And laying her cheek by the side of Rose, Gertrude slept.
+
+The next day was fine, and the faint smile on Rose's pale face was sweet
+as the much longed-for sunlight. Our travelers descended to the ample
+drawing-room of the hotel to breakfast.
+
+Rose glanced timidly about, scanning the forms which passed before her,
+as was her wont at a new place, and then the unsatisfied eye drooped
+beneath its snowy lid; and they who had been struck with the pensive
+beauty of her face, gazed upon it unnoticed by its object, whose
+thoughts were far away.
+
+The tall Indian head-waiter was at his post, as purveyor of corn-cakes
+and coffee; and excellently well as he filled it, Gertrude protested, as
+an artist, against such a desecration of his fine athletic form and
+kingly air.
+
+Human nature is never more _en déshabille_ than in traveling; and
+Gertrude's bump of mirthfulness found ample food in the length and
+breadth of the well-filled breakfast-table. The jaded pleasure-seekers,
+whose fashion-filmed eyes were blind to natural beauty, were talking of
+"doing the Falls in one hour." The little new-made bride sat there with
+love-swimming eyes, innocently expecting to escape detection in the
+disguise of a plain brown traveling-dress: pretty little simpleton! and
+casting such tell-tale glances at her new husband, too! The half-fledged
+"freshman" was there, with his incipient beard and his first long-tailed
+coat, making love and bad puns to a knot of his sister's mischief-loving
+female friends.
+
+In came the pompous city aristocrat, all dignity and shirt-collar,
+following his abdomen and the waiter with measured steps and
+supercilious glance, to the court-end of the table. There, too, was the
+pale student, feasting his book-surfeited eyes on the pleasanter page of
+young beauty's April face. There, too, the unsophisticated country girl,
+too anxious to please, exhausting all her toilet's finery on the
+breakfast-table. There, too, the poor dyspeptic, surveying with longing
+eye the tabooed dainties, for which he must pay to Dame Nature if he
+ate, and to the landlord whether or no.
+
+"Your spirits are at high-water mark this morning," said John to his
+sister, as Gertrude's quick eye took these notes of her neighbors. "I
+think you have made up your mind not to grow old. You look as handsome
+as a picture, this morning."
+
+"As an artist, allow me to tell you that your compliment is a doubtful
+one," said Gertrude. "And as to old age, which is such a bugbear to most
+of my sex, I assure you it has no terrors for me. My first gray hair
+will excite in me no regretful emotions."
+
+"Ah! you can well afford to be philosophic now," retorted John, touching
+the shining curls around his sister's face.
+
+"You don't believe me? I assure you that the only terror old age has for
+me is its helplessness and imbecility. My natural independence revolts
+at being a burden even to those whom I love;" and Gertrude's tone had a
+touch of sadness in it. "You remember old Aunt Hepsy, John? how long her
+body outlived her mind; how at eighty years she would beg for tin
+carts, and soldiers, and rag dolls, and amuse herself by the hour with
+them, like a little child. This, I confess, is humiliating. In this view
+I can truly say I dread old age. But the mere thinning of the luxuriant
+locks, the filming of the bright eye, the shrinking of the rounded
+limbs, these things give me no heart-pangs in the anticipation. I can
+not understand the sensitiveness with which most men and women, past the
+season of youth, hear their age alluded to. It certainly can be no
+secret, for if Time deal gently with them the family register will not;
+and if the finger of vanity obliterate all traces of the latter, some
+toothless old crone yet hobbles, who, forgetful of every thing else, yet
+remembers the year, week, day, minute, and second in which (without your
+leave) you were introduced to life's cares and troubles.
+
+"Beside, old age _need_ not be repulsive or unlovely," said Gertrude;
+"look at that aged couple, yonder! How beautiful those silver hairs, how
+genuine and heart-warming the smile with which they regard each other!
+To my eye, there is beauty on those furrowed temples, beauty in those
+wrinkled hands, so kindly outstretched to meet each other's wants.
+Life's joys and sorrows have evidently knit _their_ hearts but more
+firmly together. What is the mad love of youthful blood to the sun-set
+effulgence of their setting lives? God bless them!" said Gertrude, as,
+kindly leaning one on the other, they passed out the hall. "Old age
+_may_ be beautiful!"
+
+"Yes," replied John, "when the heart is kept fresh and green; that which
+neutralizes the counsels of old age is the ascetic severity with which
+it too often denounces innocent pleasure, forgetting that the blood
+which now flows so sluggishly in its veins had once the torrent's mad
+leap. But look, Gertrude, while I discuss this ham omelette, and see
+what is in the morning papers."
+
+"Well--in the first place, 'dreadful casualty.' What _would_ editors do,
+I wonder, without these dreadful casualties? I sometimes amuse myself,
+when I have nothing better to do, in comparing their relative tastes for
+the horrible, and their skill in dishing it up spicily to the appetites
+of their various readers. The ingenuity they manifest in this line is
+quite incredible.
+
+"Observe now, the flippant heartlessness with which these city items,
+are got up, as if a poor degraded drunkard were the less an object of
+pity that he had parted with the priceless power of self-resistance! A
+man who could make a jest of a sight so sad, has sunk lower even than
+the poor wretch he burlesques.
+
+"Well--let me see--then here are stupid letters from watering-places,
+got up as pay for the writer's board, at the fashionable hotel, from
+which they are written and which the transparent writer puffs at every
+few lines. Then here are some ingenious letters which the editor has
+written to himself, thanking himself for 'some judicious and sensible
+editorials which have lately appeared in his columns, and for the
+general tone of independence and honesty which pervades his admirable
+paper.' O, dear!" said Gertrude, laughing, "what a thing it is, to be
+sure, to get a peep behind the scenes!
+
+"Then here is an advertisement headed, 'Women out of employment.' I
+wonder none of these women have ever thought of going out to do a
+family's mending by the day or week. I have often thought that a
+_skillful_ hand would meet a hearty welcome, and a ready remuneration,
+from many an over-tasked mother of a family, who sighs over the ravages
+of the weekly wash, and whose annual baby comes ever between her and the
+bottom of the stereotyped I 'stocking-basket.'
+
+"But a truce to newspapers, with such a bright sun wooing us out of
+doors; now for Goat Island; but first let me prepare you for a depletion
+of your pocket-book in the shape of admiration-fees. You will be
+twitched by the elbow, plucked by the skirt, solicited with a courtesy
+or a bow; 'moccasins' to buy from sham squaws--'stuffed beasts' to see
+by the roadside--'views of Niagara,' done in water-colors, 'for sale,'
+at rude shanties. Then there will be boys popping from behind trees with
+'ornaments made of Table Rock;' disinterested gentlemen desirous to
+'take you under the sheet' in a costume that would frighten the
+mermaids; disinterested owners of spy-glasses 'anxious you should get
+the best view.' I tell you," said Gertrude, "for a damper the spray is
+nothing to it! You must be content to cork up your enthusiasm till these
+'horse-leech' gentry are appeased.
+
+"Do you know, John, that my '76 blood was quite up to boiling-point the
+first time I came here, when the toll-keeper on the Canada side demanded
+what was my business, and how long I intended to stay over there?"
+
+"I can fancy it," said John, laughing; "did you answer him?"
+
+"Not I," said Gertrude, "until I had ascertained that the same
+catechetical rule held good on the American side. Nevertheless, I would
+be willing to wager that I could smuggle any thing I pleased into Her
+Majesty's dominions under the toll-keeper's very nose, had I a mind to
+try it.
+
+"I wonder," continued Gertrude, after a pause, "could one ever _get
+used_ to Niagara? Could its roar be one's cradle lullaby and the spirit
+not plume itself for lofty flights? Could one look at it when laughing
+to scorn stern winter's fetters, as did Sampson the impotent green
+withes of the Philistines, dashing on in its might, though all Nature
+beside lay wrapped in old winter's winding-sheet? see it accepting, like
+some old despot, the tribute of silver moon-beams, golden sun-rays, and
+a rainbow arch of triumph for its hoary head to pass under;--ever
+absolute--unconquerable--omnipotent--eternal--as God himself! Could
+this be the first leaf turned over in Nature's book to the infant's eye,
+and _not_ make it unshrinking as the eagle's?
+
+"Hark! what is that?" exclaimed Gertrude, starting to her feet, and
+bounding forward with the fleetness of a deer.
+
+Oh, that shriek!
+
+High it rose above Niagara's wildest roar, as the foaming waters
+engulfed its victim! In the transit of a moment, they who for fourscore
+years and ten, through storm and sunshine, had walked side by side
+together, were parted, and forever! With the half-uttered word on his
+lip--with the love-beam in his eye--he "was not!"
+
+"God comfort her," sobbed Gertrude, as the aged and widowed survivor was
+carried back insensible to the hotel. "How little we thought this
+morning, when looking at their happy and united old age, that Death
+would so unexpectedly step between; and still Niagara's relentless
+waters plunge down the abyss, shroud and sepulcher to the loved and
+lifeless form beneath?"
+
+
+Serene as the sky when the thunder-cloud has rolled away, calm as the
+ocean when the moon has lulled its crested waves to sleep, smiling as
+earth when from off its heaving bosom the waters of the flood were
+rolled, leaning on Him who is the "widow's God and Husband," the aged
+mourner whispered, "It is well."
+
+"God has been so good to me," she said to Gertrude. "He has lifted the
+cloud even at the tomb's portal. Listen, my child, and learn to trust in
+Him who is the believer's Rock of Ages.
+
+"The first years of my wedded life were all brightness. We were not
+rich, but Love sweetens labor, and so that we were only spared to each
+other (my husband and I), for us there could be no sorrow. Children
+blessed us, bright, active, and healthy, and, hugging my idols to my
+heart, I forgot to look beyond. I saw the dead borne past my door, but
+the sunshine still lay over my own threshhold. I saw the drunkard reel
+past, but _my_ mountain stood strong! As I rocked my baby's cradle, my
+heart sang to its sweet smile--earth only seemed near, eternity a great
+way off. To-day I knew was bliss--the future, what was it? A riddle
+which puzzled the wisest; and I was not wise, only happy. Alas, the worm
+was creeping silently on toward the root of my gourd. It was 'the worm
+of the still.' One by one its leaves fell off. Silently but relentlessly
+he did his blighting work. Where plenty ruled, poverty came--clouds in
+place of sunshine--sobs for smiles--curses for kisses--tears for
+laughter.
+
+"Bitter tears fell when they rolled by me in their carriages, whose
+wealth was coined from my heart's blood; but I did not chide _him_; I
+toiled and sorrowed on, for still I loved. I know not where the strength
+came to labor, still I found my babes and him bread; but, as week after
+week rolled by, and the reeling form still staggered past me, my heart
+grew faint and sick; for the hand which had never been raised save to
+bless us, now dealt the cruel blow; and the children who had been wont
+to wait for his coming, and to climb his knee, now cowered when they
+heard his unsteady footsteps. Each day I hoped against hope, for some
+change for the better, but it came not.
+
+"One day a thought occurred to me by which I might perchance keep the
+demon at bay; I would watch the moment at which this craving thirst took
+possession of my husband. I would give him a substitute in the shape of
+strong hot chocolate, of which he was inordinately fond; I denied myself
+every comfort to procure it. I prepared it exactly to his taste--it was
+ready to the minute that the tempting fiend was wont to whisper in his
+ear. I was first upon the ground; I forestalled the demon. The sated
+appetite heeded not his Judas entreaties. My husband smiled on me again,
+he called me his saviour, his preserver; he again entered the shop of
+his employer; it was near the house, so it was easy for me to run over
+with the tempting beverage; I watched him night and day; I anticipated
+his every wish; my husband was again clothed, and in his right mind; we
+both learned our dependence on a stronger arm than each other's. Riches
+came with industry, our last days were our best days.
+
+"And now, my dear child," and the old lady smiled through her tears,
+"there is music to my ears, even in those rushing waters, for he who
+sleeps beneath them fills no _drunkard's_ grave. What matters it by what
+longer or shorter road we travel, so that heaven be gained at last?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LII.
+
+
+"Did I not tell you that old age was beautiful?" exclaimed Gertrude, to
+Rose, as they sought the privacy of their own apartments. "The world
+talks of 'great deeds' (ambition-nurtured though they be), yet who
+chronicles these beautiful unobtrusive acts of feminine heroism beneath
+hundreds of roof-trees in our land? too common to be noted, save by the
+recording angel! Now I understand the meaning of Solomon's words,
+'Blessed is the man who hath a virtuous wife, for the number of his days
+shall be doubled.'
+
+"Confess you are better, _ma petite_," and Gertrude kissed Rose's pale
+forehead; "nothing better helps us to bear our own troubles than to
+learn the struggles of other suffering hearts, and how many unwritten
+tragedies are locked up in memory's cabinet, pride only yielding up the
+keys to inexorable death!
+
+"Sometimes, Rose, when I am mercilessly at war with human nature, I
+appease myself by jotting down the _good_ deeds of every day's
+observation; and it has been a tonic to my fainting hopes to have seen
+the poor beggar divide his last crust with a still poorer one who had
+none; to see the sinewy arm of youth opportunely offered in the crowded
+streets to timorous, feeble, and _obscure_ old age; to see the hurried
+man of business stop in the precious forenoon hours, to hunt up the
+whereabouts of some stray little weeping child; or to see the poor
+servant-girl bestow half her weekly earnings in charity. These things
+restore my faith in my kind, and keep the balance even, till some
+horribly selfish wretch comes along and again kicks the scales!
+
+"And now Charley must needs be waking up there--see him! looking just as
+seraphic as if _he_ never meant to be a little sinner! The tinting of a
+sea-shell could not be more delicate than that cheek; see the faultless
+outline of his profile against the pillow; look at his dimpled arms and
+fat little calves; and that little plump cushion of a foot. Was there
+ever any thing so seducing? I wish that child belonged to me.
+
+"See here, Rose, look at those ladies pacing up and down the long hall,
+armed for conquest to the teeth. What an insatiable appetite for
+admiration they must needs have, to make such an elaborate toilet in the
+dog-days! Nothing astonishes me like the patient endurance of these
+fashionists at the watering-places; prisoning themselves within doors
+lest the damp air should uncurl a ringlet; wearing gloves with the
+thermometer at ninety in the shade; soliciting wasp-waists in the very
+face of consumption. They are what I call 'the working people;' for
+your mechanic has the liberty of cooling himself in his shirt-sleeves,
+and your sempstress, though Nature may have furnished her no hips, does
+not perspire in interminable piles of skirts. Rose, imagine the old age
+of such women--no resource but the looking-glass, and that at last
+casting melancholy _reflections_ in their faces. Not that vanity is
+confined to the female sex--(Come in, John, you are just in time). I am
+about to give you an exemplification of the remark I have just hazarded,
+in the history of Theodore Vanilla.
+
+"River House was full of summer boarders when I first saw him there;
+nursery-maids and children _ad infinitum_; ladies in profusion, whose
+husbands and brothers went and returned morning and evening to their
+business in the city.
+
+"Of course the ladies were left to themselves in the middle of the day,
+and some of the most mischievous verified the truth of the old
+primer-adage; that 'Satan finds some mischief still for idle hands to
+do.' Theodore was their unconscious butt, and they made the most of him.
+
+"Every evening they assembled on the piazza when the cars came in, and
+'hoped,' with anxious faces, 'that Mr. Vanilla had not concluded to
+remain over night in the city.' The self-satisfied smile with which he
+would step up on the piazza rub his hands, and his
+
+"'Now really, ladies,'
+
+"As he turned delightedly from one to the other, were a picture for
+Hogarth.
+
+"Then after tea there was a preconcerted dispute among them, which
+should monopolize him 'for their evening walk;' and the innocence with
+which he would reply to all this fore-ordained wrangling,
+
+"'Now ladies _don't_ quarrel, and I'll engage to take turns with you,'
+
+"Was too much for mortal risibles. One lady would affect the sulks that
+'he did not sit next her at table;' another, that 'he did not, like a
+true knight, wear her colors in the hue of his cravat.' Enveloped in his
+panoply of self-conceit, he was tossed back and forth on this female
+hornet's-nest, an agonized, but delighted victim.
+
+"On one occasion a gentleman, jealous for his sex's honor, whispered to
+one of the lady ringleaders--
+
+"'You are too relentless; I really think this is wrong.'
+
+"'Do you!' answered the pretty tyrant, with an arch smile; 'I will
+engage one could throw just such a dust in the eyes of any gentleman you
+might select in this house (including yourself), even with this example
+before your and their eyes.'"
+
+"Gertrude," said John, reprovingly, "do you remember what Solomon says--
+
+"'A _wise_ woman have I not found?'"
+
+"John," mimicked Gertrude, "do you know the reason of Solomon's failure?
+It was because he met with a _pretty_ woman, and forgot to look for a
+_wise_ one!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIII.
+
+
+"Good evening, Balch. Bless me! how gloomy you look here, after coming
+from the glare and music of the opera, its ladies and its jewels; you
+are as good as a nightmare, sitting there with your one bachelor candle,
+keeping that miserable fire company. One would think your veins were
+turned to ice, or that there was not a bright eye left in the world to
+make the blood leap through them. Turn up the gas, sing us a song, hand
+out a cigar; you are as solemn as a sexton."
+
+"I dare say," replied Balch, in a melancholy key, as he languidly turned
+on the gas for his friend, and set a box of cigars before him. "I know I
+am not good company, so I shall not advise you to stay."
+
+"A woman in the case, I dare be sworn," said Gerritt, lighting a cigar,
+"Lord bless 'em, they are always at the top and bottom of every thing!"
+
+Balch gave the anthracite a poke, crossed his slippered feet, folded his
+arms, and looked at Gerritt.
+
+"I knew it," said Gerritt. "I am acquainted with all the symptoms of
+that malady; let's have it, Balch; you can tell me nothing new in the
+way of woman's twistings and turnings. Bless 'em!"
+
+"Bless 'em?" exclaimed Balch, unfolding his arms, placing both hands on
+his knees and staring in Gerritt's face. "Bless 'em?"
+
+"Yes; bless 'em. I knew what I was saying, well enough. Bless 'em, I
+repeat, for if they do not give a man more than five rapturous moments
+in a life time, it is well worth being born for. Fact;" said Gerritt, as
+the speechless Balch continued gazing at him.
+
+"Did you ever see Mrs. Markham?" asked Balch, finding voice.
+
+The solemnity with which he asked the question, and his whole _tout
+ensemble_ at that moment, was too much for Gerritt, who burst into an
+uproarious laugh.
+
+"Ah, you may laugh," said Balch, "it is all very well; but I wish there
+was not a woman in the world."
+
+"Horrible!" said Gerritt. "I shan't join you there; but who was this
+Mrs. Markham?"
+
+Balch moved his chair nearer to Gerritt, and shutting his teeth very
+closely together, hissed through them,
+
+"The very d--l."
+
+"Is that all?" said the merry philosopher. "So is every woman, unless
+you get the right side of her. Women are like cats; you must 'poor'
+them, as the children say, the right way of the fur, unless you want
+them to scratch. I suppose you did not understand managing her."
+
+"Were you ever on a committee of an Orphan Asylum?" asked Balch,
+solemnly.
+
+"No--no;" laughed Gerritt. "Why, Balch, I beg pardon on my knees, for
+calling you and your den here, funereal; I have not laughed so hard for
+a twelvemonth."
+
+"Because," said Balch, not heeding his friend's raillery; "_I have_, and
+Mrs. Markham was the matron."
+
+"O--h--I see," said Gerritt. "You thought her an angel, and _she_
+thought that _you_ thought the children under her care were well cared
+for, when they were not; is that it?"
+
+"Ex-actly," said Balch, in admiration of his friend's penetration; "it
+was awful how that woman deceived every body. I don't mind myself,
+though I must say that I never want to see any thing that wears a
+petticoat again, till the day of my death; but those poor children, I
+can't get over it; and I one of the investigating committee, too! It was
+infamous that I did not look into things closer. But, Gerritt, you see,
+that Mrs. Markham--" and Balch looked foolish.
+
+"I understand;" said Gerritt. "I see the whole game; well, what did you
+say about it? I suppose you did not content yourself with resigning?"
+
+"No, indeed, and that comforts me a little. I had her turned out. I
+don't suppose (she was so plausible) that I should have believed Gabriel
+himself, had be told me any thing against her; but I saw her with my
+own eyes one day, when I called unexpectedly, abuse those children. She
+did not know I was within hearing, and tried afterward to gloss it over;
+it wouldn't do; and then, when the scales had fallen off my eyes, I
+looked back and saw a great many other things to which that scene gave
+me the clew. Then I went to Timmins and Watkins, two of her assistants,
+and after making me promise not to get them into any difficulty about
+it, they told me things that would make your very flesh creep; and I one
+of the investigating committee; but that Mrs. Markham was--"
+
+"I have no doubt of it," said Gerritt; "but, my dear fellow, there is
+always a drop of consolation to be squeezed out of every thing. Suppose
+you had married her!"
+
+Balch jammed the poker furiously into the anthracite, shaking his head
+mournfully the while, and the laughing Gerritt withdrew.
+
+"Yes, yes," said Balch, "that is lucky; but poor little Tibbie! poor
+little Tibbie! that will not bring _her_ back to life; and poor little
+Rose, too--and I one of the investigating committee! It is dreadful."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIV.
+
+
+The moon shone brightly on the trellised piazza of the ---- House, at
+Niagara. The sleepy house-porter had curled himself up in the hall
+corner; the sonorous breathings of weary travelers might be heard
+through the open windows, for the night was warm and sultry. Two persons
+still lingered on the piazza. Judging from their appearance, they were
+not tempted by the beauty of the night. Ensconced in the shadow of the
+further corner, they were earnestly engaged in conversation.
+
+"I tell you she is in this house; I saw her name on the books--'Gertrude
+Dean,' your ex-wife. What do you think of that--hey?"
+
+"The d--l!" exclaimed Stahle. "I can _swear_, now that I am out of
+school, you know, Smith."
+
+"Of course," replied the latter, laughing; "the only wonder is, how you
+manage to get along with so few vacations. To my mind, swearing lets off
+the steam wonderfully."
+
+"How long has this admirable spouse of mine been here?" asked Stahle.
+
+"Don't know. Didn't like to ask questions, you know, until I had first
+spoken to you. She's flush of money, of course, or she could not stay
+here, where they charge so like the deuce. I should think it would gall
+you a little, Stahle, and you so out of pocket."
+
+"It would," said the latter, with another oath, "had I not the way of
+helping myself to some of it."
+
+"How's that? The law does not allow you to touch her earnings, now you
+are divorced."
+
+"All women are fools about law matters. She don't know that," sneered
+Stahle. "She is probably traveling alone, and I will frighten her into
+it--that's half the battle. I owe her something for the cool way she
+walked round all the traps I sprung for her, without getting caught. I
+thought when I left her that she would just fold her hands, and let the
+first man who offered find her in clothes, on his own terms, for she
+never was brought up to work, and I knew she had no relations that would
+give her any thing but advice;" and Stahle gave a low, chuckling laugh.
+
+"You see I always look all round before I leap, Smith. I can't
+understand it now, and I never have, why she didn't do as I expected,
+for she might have had lovers enough. She was good-looking, and it was
+what I reckoned on to sustain the rumors I took care to circulate about
+her before I left; but what does she do but shut herself up, work night
+and day, and give the lie to every one of them. I wrote to my brother,
+Fred, to try every way to catch her tripping, to track her to every
+boarding-house she went to, and hint things to the landlord, carefully,
+of course. Fred knows how to do it; but you know if a woman does nothing
+but mind her own business, and never goes into company, a rumor against
+her will very soon die out. I kept spies constantly at work, but it was
+no use, confound her; but some of her money I will have. Here she is
+living in clover, going to the Springs, and all that; while I am a poor
+clerk in a grocery store. I feel as cheap when any Eastern man comes in,
+and recognizes me there, as if I had been stealing. I won't stand it;
+Mrs. Gertrude Dean, as she calls herself, has got to hand over the cash.
+If I can't ruin her reputation, I'll have some of her money."
+
+"You advertised her in the papers, didn't you, when you left?--(after
+the usual fashion, 'harboring and trusting,' and all that)--were you
+afraid she would run you in debt?"
+
+"Devil a bit; she's too proud for that; she would have starved first."
+
+"Why did you do it, then?"
+
+"To mortify her confounded pride," said Stahle, with a diabolical sneer,
+"and to injure her in public estimation. That stroke, at least, told for
+a time."
+
+"A pretty set of friends she must have had," said Smith, "to have stood
+by and borne all that."
+
+"Oh, I know _them_ all, root and branch. I knew I could go to the full
+length of my rope without any of their interference. In fact, their
+neglect of her helped me more than any thing else. Every body said I
+must have been an injured man, and that the stories I had circulated
+_must_ be true about her, or they would certainly have defended and
+sheltered her. I knew them--I knew it would work just so; that was so
+much in my favor, you see."
+
+"They liked you, then?"
+
+Stahle applied his thumbs to the end of his nose, and gave another
+diabolical sneer.
+
+"Liked me! Humph! They all looked down on me as a vulgar fellow. I was
+tolerated, and that was all--hardly that."
+
+"I don't understand it, then," said Smith.
+
+"I do, though; if they _defended_ her, they would have no excuse for not
+helping her. It was the cash, you see, the cash! so they preferred
+siding with me, vulgar as they thought me. I knew them--I knew how it
+would work before I began."
+
+"Well, I suppose this is all very interesting to you," said Smith,
+yawning, "but as I am confounded tired and sleepy, and as it is after
+midnight, I shall wish you good-night."
+
+"Good-night," said Stahle. "I shall smoke another cigar while I arrange
+my plans. This is the last quiet night's sleep 'Mrs. Gertrude Dean' will
+have for some time, I fancy."
+
+"Scoundrel!" exclaimed John, leaping suddenly upon the piazza through
+his low parlor window. "Scoundrel! I have you at last," and well aimed
+and vigorous were the blows which John dealt his sister's traducer.
+
+Your woman slanderer is invariably a coward--the very nature of his
+offense proves it. There never was one yet who dared face a man in fair
+fight; and so on his knees Stahle pleaded like a whipped cur for mercy.
+
+"Go, cowardly brute," said John, kicking him from the piazza. "If you
+are seen here after daylight, the worse for you."
+
+
+"Very strange," muttered Smith the next morning, "very strange.
+Something unexpected must have turned up to send Stahle off in such a
+hurry. Well, he is a sneaking villain. I am bad enough, but what I do is
+open and above board. I don't say prayers or sing psalms to cover it up.
+I don't care whether I ever hear from him again or not."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LV.
+
+
+"How radiant you look this morning," exclaimed Gertrude, in
+astonishment, as she opened Rose's chamber door, and sat down by her
+bed-side; "your eyes have such a dazzling sparkle, and your cheeks such
+a glow. What is it, _ma petite_?" she asked, still gazing on the
+speechless Rose.
+
+"Vincent is not dead," said Rose, slowly and oracularly, "Vincent is not
+false. The weight has gone from here, Gertrude," laying her hand on her
+heart. "I shall see him, though I can not tell you how nor where; but he
+will come back to me and Charley. I saw him last night in my dream--so
+noble--so good--but, oh! so wan, with the weary search for me. I hid my
+face--I could not look in his eyes--for I had doubted him--but he
+forgave me; oh! Gertrude, it was blessed, the clasp of those shadowy
+arms," and Rose smiled, and closed her eyes again, as if to shut out the
+sight of all that might dim her spiritual vision.
+
+"Poor--poor Rose!" murmured Gertrude, terrified at the idea which forced
+itself upon her, "reason gone! Poor Rose!" and as she gazed, the warm
+tears fell upon the pillow.
+
+Gertrude passed her soft hand magnetizingly over Rose's closed lids and
+temples; gradually the bright flush left her cheek, and she sank quietly
+to sleep.
+
+"Was this to be the end of all Rose's sufferings? God forbid," murmured
+Gertrude. "Death itself were preferable to this," said she, her eyes
+still riveted on the beauty of that pale, childish face.
+
+"Hush!" whispered Gertrude, with her finger on her lips, as her brother
+rapped on the door for her; she little thought that she had an unread
+page in her own eventful history to turn.
+
+"I am so glad I did not see him," exclaimed she, when her brother
+finished his narration. "I should have felt as if a rattlesnake lay
+coiled in my path. He deserved his chastisement; and yet, John, I do not
+like this whipping system; it always seems to me as if a gentleman who
+stooped to it put himself on a level with the villain whom he punished."
+
+"It is the only way, Gertrude," said the doctor; "especially where the
+law gives no redress. Besides, it is the only thing that appeals to that
+kind of fellow."
+
+"But he is so vindictive;" said Gertrude, looking apprehensively at her
+brother, "he may lay coiled like a wounded snake, but he will yet make a
+spring."
+
+"You forget that his Christian reputation stands in the way of any such
+little personal gratification," said John, sarcastically.
+
+"He has been able, though, heretofore, to make a compromise with it,"
+said Gertrude.
+
+"Ah! he had only a woman to deal with," answered John, "and one whom he
+knew would suffer in silence, as many an injured high-minded woman has
+done before, rather than sacrifice the delicacy of her sex, by publicly
+brandishing the cudgel in her own defense, even in a righteous cause.
+_I_ shall have no such scruples, and you will see that he understands
+it. A good sound flagellation is the only 'moral suasion' for such women
+tyrants; it is only against the defenseless such cowards dare wage war."
+
+"Let us talk of something else," said Gertrude; and she related to John
+what had transpired between her and Rose.
+
+John looked very grave, and sat absorbed in thought.
+
+"I knew it would trouble you," said Gertrude; "it would be so dreadful
+should she lose her reason."
+
+"I do not fear that," replied John; "I do not think her mind was
+wandering when she told you her dream. I think you will find that she
+will be perfectly sane when she wakes.
+
+"Her dream,"--and John hesitated, "may prove true; stranger things have
+happened. Stronger chains of evidence than that which apparently
+overthrew her hopes have been snapped in twain, and, if--he should--be
+living--if--he--should prove worthy of her--dear as she is to me, I
+feel Gertrude, that my love is capable of self-sacrifice. I will use my
+best endeavors to bring them together.
+
+"I shall never love again," said John; "I shall never see another woman
+who will so satisfy my soul, so pure, so childlike, so trusting, and yet
+so strong, so immovable in what she considers right--so vastly superior
+to all other women. I _had_ woven bright dreams, in which she had a
+part," and John walked to the window to conceal his emotion.
+
+Gertrude did not follow him; she knew from experience that there are
+moments when the presence even of the dearest friend is a restraint,
+when the overcharged spirit must find relief only in solitude and
+self-communing, and with a heart yearning with tenderness toward her
+brother, she stole softly from his presence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVI.
+
+
+"Don't talk to me, Mrs. Howe," said her husband, slamming to the door,
+and dumping down in his arm-chair as if to try the strength of the seat.
+"If there is any thing I hate, Mrs. Howe, it is that tribe of popinjays,
+one of whom has just gone through that door; hate don't express it, Mrs.
+Howe, I detest, and abominate, and despise him."
+
+"Well, now, Mr. Howe, I am athtonithed," lisped his wife, that lady not
+having yet accommodated her speech to the play of her new set of teeth.
+"I am thure he ith the moth elegant and refined and thivil thpoken young
+man I ever thaw; I never heard him thay an offenthive thing to any one
+in my life."
+
+"Of course you haven't, Mrs. Howe; and that's just what I hate him for;
+a man who is so loaded and primed with civil speeches is always rotten
+at the core. I always steer clear of such a fellow," said John,
+forgetting the compliments to himself which he had heretofore swallowed.
+
+"That man never sneezes without calculating the effect of it; he has the
+same smile and bow and obsequious manner for every body; it is his aim
+to be popular, and it may go down with women and softheaded men, but he
+don't take John Howe in. He is an oily-tongued hypocrite. That's plain
+Saxon, Mrs. Howe. I am astonished at you--no, I am not, either," said
+John, slamming himself down again into the chair.
+
+"Mrs. Howe!"
+
+And John wheeled his chair close up to her, "didn't you hear him the
+other day, when that tiresome, stupid Mrs. Frink was here, inquire so
+touchingly after a bad cough which he recollected she had when he met
+her a year ago? Did you see the effect it had on the silly old thing? I
+wonder she got out the door without having it widened, she was so puffed
+up.
+
+"Mrs. Howe!"
+
+And John moved up still closer, "if that man should meet our old cat in
+the entry after a month's absence, he'd take off his hat, and inquire
+after that very precocious kitten of hers he had the pleasure of seeing
+on the stairs when he was last here. Fact--I'm astonished at you, Mrs.
+Howe," and John dumped himself down again into the chair; "the man is a
+jackass, a fool, a perfume-bottle on legs--faugh!
+
+"Mrs. Howe!"
+
+And John wheeled round again, "didn't he upset that old squirrel-eyed
+Miss Price, by repeating a common-place remark of hers which she made
+him two or three years ago, and which he had the brass to say struck
+him so forcibly at the time that he never forgot it? Didn't she go home
+in the full belief that she had up to that time been terribly underrated
+by her folks at home? Certainly;--now do you suppose he does all that
+for nothing, Mrs. Howe? No--he gets his pay out of you all by an
+invitation to a good dinner. He does the same here, whenever it is more
+convenient to stop here than down town, and then you and all the rest of
+these silly women become his trumpeters.
+
+"For his fine speeches to steamboat captains, he gets a free pass in
+their boats; landlords of hotels, ditto; that's it, Mrs. Howe.
+
+"I am astonished at you, Mrs. Howe.
+
+"He gets presents of hats, presents of coats, presents of canes,
+presents of pictures, presents of books and stationery.
+
+"As for the women, of course, as I said before, such flummery takes them
+right down--just as it did you, Mrs. Howe.
+
+"May he be strangled in his pink and blue cravat before he comes here to
+another dinner.
+
+"That's right, Jonathan, come in," said Mr. Howe, as an unpolished, but
+good-hearted country cousin strode over the carpet in his thick-soled
+boots; "that's right. You have come just in time to save me from being
+sick at the stomach; sit down--any where, top of the piano if you like;
+put your feet on that Chinese work-table, and hang your hat on that
+Venus. It will do me good. And give me that bit of hay sticking on your
+outside coat. Let us have something natural, somehow."
+
+Mrs. Howe retired in disgust, although she was too much under the yoke
+to make any remonstrance, which she felt sure would be thrown _in her
+teeth_!
+
+In default of any more children, Mrs. Howe, like many other ladies
+similarly situated, consoled herself with her dog, Consuelo.
+
+Seating herself in what she called her "boudoir," a little room whose
+walls were covered with red satin paper, which Mrs. Howe imagined
+particularly in harmony with her rubicund complexion, she took Consuelo
+on her lap, and stroking his long silken ears, said: "How like Mr. Howe,
+to prefer that clumsy country cousin of his to the elegant Finels. There
+is just the same difference between them that there is between you, my
+lovely Consuelo, and that hideous yellow terrier of the butcher's boy. I
+think I may say, Consuelo, that both you and I are quite thrown away in
+this house," and wrapping her pet in his embroidered blanket, she laid
+him down in her lap to sleep.
+
+"Jealous! ah, ha! That's it, Consuelo. That is what sets Mr. Howe so
+against Finels; as for his coming here for our good dinners, that is all
+sheer nonsense. _He_ sees plainly enough, with all his politeness to
+John, that I am miserably sacrificed to him. I was not aware of it
+myself until after I became acquainted with Mr. Finels. Finels always
+pays so much attention when I speak. John, on the contrary, half the
+time, does not seem to hear me. It is not at all uncommon for him to
+leave the room or to fall asleep in the middle of one of my
+conversations. It is very irritating to a sensible woman. Finels always
+remembers some little remark I have made him. I think I must have been
+in the habit of throwing away a great many good things on John. John has
+grown very stupid since I married him.
+
+"Finels says such pretty French words; I have not the slightest idea
+what they mean, but doubtless there is some delicate compliment conveyed
+in them, if I only understood the language. I think I will study French.
+Oh! that would be delightful, and then John can't understand a word dear
+Finels and I say;" and Mrs. Howe tied on her hat, and went in pursuit of
+a French grammar.
+
+"What on earth is this?" exclaimed Mrs. Howe, as she entered the parlor
+two hours after, with her French bonnet and French grammar. "What on
+earth is this?" applying a tumbler which stood on the center-table to
+her nose, and tasting some remaining crumbs in a plate.
+
+"What is it?" repeated John, puffing away, not at the chibouk, but at
+the old clay pipe. "What is it? Why, it is the dregs of some molasses
+and water Jonathan has been drinking, and those crumbs are all that
+remain of a loaf of brown bread, for which I sent Mary to the grocer's.
+If he likes country fare he shall have it--why not, as well as your
+superfine Finels his olives, and sardines, and gimcracks? I pay the
+'damages,' you know, Mrs. Howe;" and John's eye gave a triumphant
+twinkle.
+
+"Of course, my dear--of course," replied that subjugated lady; "it is
+all right, my dear, and does great credit to your kindness of heart; but
+it is such a _very_ odd, old-fashioned taste, you know;" and applying
+her embroidered handkerchief to her nose, she motioned Mary to remove
+the remains of the homespun feast.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVII.
+
+
+Old Mrs. Bond had taken her station on the sunny side of her piazza.
+Mrs. Bond was no sentimentalist, as I have said before. She had never
+read a line of poetry in her life; but she had read her Bible, and she
+loved to watch the glorious sun go down, and think of the golden streets
+of the New Jerusalem, with its gates of pearl, and walls of jasper. Many
+a blessed vision from that sunset-seat had she seen with her spiritual
+eyes; and many a sealed passage in the Holy Book which lay upon her lap,
+had then, and there, and thus, been solved; and many a prayer had gone
+from thence swift-winged to heaven.
+
+The Bible contains great and mighty truths which none of us may safely
+reject; but apart from this, no mind, how uncultivated soever, can be
+familiar with its glowing beauty and sublimity, without being
+unconsciously refined.
+
+Oh! how many times, even to the God-forgetting, has the beauty of its
+imagery come home with a force and aptness which no uninspired pen, how
+gifted soever, could rival!
+
+How vital and immovably lodged, though buried for years under the dust
+of worldliness, its wise and indisputable precepts!
+
+How like a sun-flash they sometimes illume what else were forever
+mystery-shrouded!
+
+And now the last tint of gold and crimson had faded out, and one bright
+star sparkled like a gem on the brow of the gray old mountain, behind
+which the sun had sank--bright as the Star of Bethlehem to Judea's
+gazing shepherds, and like them, Mrs. Bond knelt and worshiped.
+
+Broad as the world was her Bible-creed: it embraced all nations, all
+colors, all sects. Whosoever did the will of God the same was her
+father, sister, and mother; and like the face of Moses when he came down
+from the mount, hers shone that evening with the reflected glory of
+heaven.
+
+The traveler could not have told, as he stopped before that little brown
+house, and stepped on its homely piazza, _why_ he raised his hat with
+such an involuntary deference to the unpretending form before him; _why_
+his simple "Good evening, madam," should have been so reverently spoken;
+but so it was; and the kind old lady's welcome to a seat by her frugal
+board was just as unaccountably to himself accepted.
+
+The traveler was a tall, dark-browed man, with a face and form which
+must have been once pre-eminently attractive; but now, his fine dark
+eyes were sunken, as if grief, or sickness, perhaps both, had weighed
+heavily there; and his tall form seemed bent with weakness. All this his
+kind hostess noted, and her nicest cup of tea was prepared, and the
+wholesome loaf set before him, and a blessing craved over it, from lips
+which knew no fear of man, with Heaven in sight. Perhaps this touched a
+chord to which the stranger's heart vibrated, for his eyes grew moist
+with unshed tears, and his voice was tremulous when he addressed his
+hostess.
+
+"Can you tell me, madam, how far it is to the nearest inn?"
+
+"A weary way, sir--a matter of fifteen miles, and you so feeble. You are
+quite welcome to stay here, sir, till morning; and your horse will be
+well content in yonder pasture."
+
+"You are very kind, madam," said the stranger, hesitatingly; then adding
+with a smile, "travelers who have preceded me on this road must have
+borne a good name."
+
+"There is nothing here to tempt a thieving hand," said Mrs. Bond. "I
+seldom think at night of barring yonder door. Where one's trust is in an
+Almighty arm, there is little room for fear.
+
+"I can remember when yonder broad oak was but a sapling. I was born and
+married here, sir; through that door my husband and child passed to
+their long home. My time can not be long; but while I stay, every stone
+and twig in this place is dear to me."
+
+"With pleasant memories for company, one can not be lonesome," replied
+the stranger.
+
+"No--and sad ones may be made pleasant, if one only knows how," and she
+laid her withered hand on the Bible.
+
+As she did so a paper fluttered out from between its leaves. "Sometimes,
+though," said she, as she took it up, "one's faith is sorely tried.
+
+"This now--this letter--it was from my child. I called her my child, and
+yet no blood of mine ever flowed in her veins; and she called me
+'mother,' because my heart warmed to her; God knows she had sore need of
+it, poor lamb.
+
+"An old woman like myself may speak plain words, sir. He who was her
+child's father left her to weep over it alone. It was heart-breaking to
+see the poor young thing try to bear up, try to believe that he whom her
+innocent heart trusted, would turn out worthy of its love; but sometimes
+she would quite break down with the grief; and when she grew fretful
+with it, I did not chide her, because I knew her heart was chafed and
+sore.
+
+"Her's was such a lovely babe; so bright, and handsome, and winsome.
+_She_ was good and loving too. She had not sinned. She had been deceived
+and wronged. So she could not bear the taunting word, sir; and when it
+came, unexpectedly to us, she fled away like a hunted deer, through
+yonder door, till her poor strength gave out, and then we found her and
+the babe just like dead.
+
+"I brought her home, and nursed her along, and thought to keep her, and
+make it all easy for her; but her young heart pined for _him_--she
+fancied, poor child, she could find him, and the world so wide--and that
+he would lift her pure brow in the taunting world's face, and call her
+'wife;' and so she fled away in the night, no one knew whither, and left
+me this letter, sir. My eyes are dim--but I have no need to read it, for
+the words come up to me by day and by night; read it yourself,
+sir--mayhap in your travels, you may hear of the poor young thing--I
+should so like to know of her, before I die.
+
+"The light is but dim, sir," said the old lady, as the traveler took it
+in his hand, and held the letter between his face and Mrs. Bond's.
+
+Yes--the light _was_ dim, so were the traveler's eyes; he must have been
+sadly feeble too, for his hands trembled so that he could scarcely hold
+the letter.
+
+"And you never heard from her, after this?" he asked, his eyes still
+riveted on the letter.
+
+"Not a word, sir; it makes me so sad when I think of it; perhaps she may
+be dead."
+
+"Perhaps so," answered the traveler, shuddering.
+
+"May be you could make some inquiries, sir, if it would not trouble
+you, as you go along; her name was Rose, though she looked more like a
+lily when she left us, poor thing! Rose--and her lover's name was
+Vincent; perhaps you may have heard of _him_."
+
+"The name sounds familiar," said the stranger; "perhaps I shall be able
+to get some clew to it."
+
+"Thank you," said Mrs. Bond, gratefully; "and now, sir, as I get up
+early I go to rest early; so, if you please, I will show you your room;
+it is very plain--but it is all the spare one I have. It was poor Rose's
+room;" and Mrs. Bond taking her candle, led the way to it.
+
+"There," said she, setting the light down upon the table, "many a time
+when she stood at that little window, sir, she and the babe, people
+stopped here to ask who they were, they were both so handsome, and so
+different from our country folks.
+
+"On that very little table she left her letter; it was a long time
+before I could come here and feel that it was all right she should
+suffer so, although I know that God's ways are just; but I shall know
+all about it when I get to heaven; perhaps it was only 'the narrow way'
+to take _her_ there--who knows? I would rather be Rose than they who
+brought her here; and yet," said the mild old lady, hesitatingly,
+"perhaps they _thought_ they did right, but riches make us take strange
+views of things; it takes grace to be a _rich_ Christian. And when I
+feel displeased with Mrs. Howe's heartlessness, I say, _money_ might
+have turned _me_ aside too--who knows? Good-night, sir; heaven send you
+sweet sleep;" and Mrs. Bond went down into her small kitchen.
+
+
+And it was here--in this very room, that Rose had wept, and suffered,
+and wrestled with her great sorrow! On that very pillow her aching head
+vainly sought rest; at that window she had sat thinking--thinking--till
+brain and heart grew sick, and God himself seemed to have forsaken her;
+and down that road she had fled, like a hunted deer, with slander's
+cruel arrow rankling in her quivering heart!
+
+Not on _that_ pillow could sleep woo our weary traveler.
+
+At the little window he sat and saw the night-shadows deepen, and only
+the shivering trees, as the night-wind crept through them, made answer
+to his low moan,
+
+"Rose! Rose!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVIII.
+
+
+     "Dear Tom,--
+
+     "I am glad you are going abroad. You see I _can_ be unselfish. How
+     I wish _I_ were going! Of course you mean to take notes on the way.
+     For Heaven's sake, if you do, don't bore us with re-vamping the
+     travelers' guide-book, like all your predecessors; don't prate
+     stereotyped stupidities about Madonnas, and Venuses, and
+     Gladiators, or go mad over a bit of Vesuvius lava, or wear Mont
+     Blanc or the Rhine threadbare. Spare us also all egotistical
+     descriptions of your dinners and breakfasts with foreign literary
+     lions, and great lords and ladies. Strike out a new path, 'an thou
+     lovest me, Hal, or I will write your book down with one dash of my
+     puissant goose-quill.
+
+     "Mrs. John has gone to the dogs. Well, listen, and I will tell you.
+     As John's allowance to her grew fitful, so did my attentions; a man
+     can not live on air you know, or waste his time where it will not
+     pay. Mrs. John pouted, and I whistled. Mrs. John coaxed, and I
+     sulked. Mrs. John took to drinking, and I took French leave,
+     making love to little Kate, who, I hear, has lately had a fortune
+     left her. Well, I had quite lost sight of old Mrs. John for some
+     months; I only knew that her husband was a hanger-on at Gripp's
+     gambling-house, and, like all steady fellows when they break loose,
+     was out-heroding Herod in every sort of dissipation, leaving Mrs.
+     John to take care of herself.
+
+     "Well, the other night Harry and I--you remember Harry? that clever
+     dog who always beat us at billiards--Harry and I were coming home
+     about midnight, when we came across a policeman dragging off a
+     woman, who was swearing at him like a privateersman. That was
+     nothing to us, you know, or would not have been, had I not heard my
+     name mentioned. I turned my head; the light from the gas-lamp fell
+     full upon her bloated face, and, by Jove! if it was not old Mrs.
+     John! her clothes half torn off her in the drunken scuffle, looking
+     like the very witch of Endor. Wasn't it a joke? She died that
+     night, at the station-house, of delirium tremens, shrieking for
+     'John,' and 'Rose,' and 'Finels,' and the deuce knows who. So we
+     go. Have you seen the new danseuse, Felissitimi? If not, do so by
+     all means when she comes to Baltimore. She will dance straight into
+     your heart with her first _pas_. I'm off, like all the world, to
+     see her.
+
+     "As ever, yours,
+     "FINELS."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIX.
+
+
+"And here we are in Boston!" said Gertrude. "Find me any thing lovelier
+than this Common," she exclaimed, as she seated herself under the trees
+one sweet summer morning.
+
+"See! Beyond Charles River the hills stretch away in the distance, while
+the fragrant breath of their woods and hay-fields come wafted on every
+passing breeze.
+
+"And the Common! one might look till the eye grows weary through those
+long shady vistas, on whose smoothly-trodden paths the shifting sunlight
+scarce finds place, through the leafy roofs, to play.
+
+"Look, Rose, at those lovely children gamboling on the velvet grass,
+fresher and sweeter than the clover-blossoms they hide in their bosoms.
+
+"See! Up springs the fountain! like the out-gushing of Nature's full
+heart at its own sweet loveliness; leaping upward, then falling to earth
+again, only to rise with fresher beauty. No aristocratic 'park' key
+keeps out the poor man's child, for Bunker Hill lifts its granite finger
+of warning there in the distance, and the little plebeian's soiled
+fingers are as welcome to pluck the butter-cups as his more dainty
+little neighbor's.
+
+"God be thanked for that!" said Gertrude. "I well remember one balmy
+summer morning in New York, when my gipsy feet carried me out over the
+pavements in search of a stray blade of grass or a fresh blossom. My new
+dress was an 'open sesame' to one of the 'locked parks' under the charge
+of an old gardener. Lovely flowers were there, odorous shrubs, and
+graceful trees. The children of the privileged few, daintily clad,
+played in its nicely-graveled, shady walks.
+
+"It was beautiful; but outside, the poor man's child, hollow-eyed and
+sad, crouched that balmy morning on the heated pavement, pressing his
+pale face close against the iron rails, looking and longing, as only the
+children of poverty _can_ look and long, into that forbidden Eden!
+
+"It made my heart ache. I could not walk there. That little pale, sad
+face haunted me at every step. The very flowers were less sweet, the
+drooping trees less graceful, and the lovely green hedge seemed some
+tyrant jailor, within whose precincts my very breath grew thick; and
+so," said Gertrude, "I thank God for this 'Common'--free to all--yes,
+_Common_. I like the homely, democratic word.
+
+"Not that there is no aristocracy in Boston," said she, laughing; "on
+the contrary, the Beacon-street millionaire, whose father might have
+made his _débût_ three years ago as a tin peddler, looks down
+contemptuously on those who live outside this charmed locality. The
+Boston Unitarian never dreams of sharing the same heaven as the Boston
+Presbyterian, and this is the only platform on which he and the Boston
+Presbyterian meet! And 'High Church' and 'Low Church' are fenced off and
+labeled, with a touch-me-not precision, for which the 'Great Shepherd of
+the sheep' furnished no precedent.
+
+"Still, Boston is a nice little place. One does not, as in New York,
+need to drive all the afternoon to get out into the country. Start for
+an afternoon drive in New York, you have your choice between the
+unmitigated gutter of its back streets, or a half hour's blockading of
+your wheels every fifteen minutes, in the more crowded thoroughfares.
+Add to this your detention at the ferry, blocked in by teams and carts,
+and forced to listen to their wrangling drivers, and you can compute, if
+you have an arithmetical turn, how much to subtract from the present, or
+prospective, enjoyment of the afternoon; which, by the way, the first
+evening star announces to be at an end, just as you arrive where a
+little light on a fine prospect would be highly desirable. This, to one
+whose preoccupied morning hours admit of no choice as to the time for
+riding, may, perhaps, without wresting the king's English, be
+called--tantalizing! But what drives are _Boston_ drives! What green,
+winding lanes, what silver lakes, what lovely country-seats, what
+tasteful pleasure-grounds! And the carriages, so handsome, so
+comfortable; and the drivers so decent, respectable, and intelligent; so
+well-versed in the history of the city environs. Send for a chance
+carriage in New York, one hesitates to sit on its soiled cushions,
+dreads its dirty steps and wheels, and turns away disgusted from its
+loaferish driver, whiffing tobacco-smoke through the window in your
+face, and exchanging oaths with his comrade whom he is treating to a
+ride on the box. A handsome, cleanly public carriage, in New York, is as
+rare there, as a tastefully-dressed woman or a healthy-looking child.
+
+"Then, Boston has its Sabbaths--its quiet, calm, blessed Sabbaths. No
+yelling milk-men or newsboys disturb its sacred stillness. Engines are
+not Sabbatically washed, and engine companies do not take that day to
+practice on tin horns; military companies do not play funereal Yankee
+Doodles; fruit-stalls do not offend your eye at street-corners, or open
+toy-shops in the back streets; but instead, long processions of families
+thread their way over the clean pavements to their respective churches,
+where the clergymen can preach three times a day without fainting away;
+where no poor servant-girl, whose morning hours are unavoidably
+occupied, finds, after a long walk there, her church closed in the
+afternoon, while her minister is at home taking his nap; where churches
+are _not_ shut up in the summer months, while the minister luxuriates in
+the country at his ease."
+
+"You are severe," said John; "ministers are but men; their health
+requires respites."
+
+"I am not speaking of cases where a clergyman is really unable to
+labor," said Gertrude; "but that habit of closing churches whole months
+in the summer, strikes me most painfully. Death has all seasons for his
+own--sorrow casts her shadow regardless of summer's heat or winter's
+cold. I can not think it right that families should be left without
+_some_ kind shepherd. Even then, with a substitute, every one knows
+there are sorrows, as well as joys, with which the most well-meaning
+stranger can not intermeddle.
+
+"O, it is from the lips of one's _own_ pastor the parting soul would
+fain hear the soul-cheering promise. _His_ confiding ear that one would
+entreat for the tearful bed-side weepers! Verily those ministers have
+their reward, who, like their blessed Master, are 'not weary of
+well-doing.' It were worth some sacrifice of luxurious pleasure to ease
+one dying pang, to plume one broken wing for its eternal flight! It were
+sad to think the smallest and weakest lamb of the fold perished
+uncheered by the voice of its earthly shepherd. Ah! it was a life of
+self-denial that the 'Man of Sorrows' led."
+
+"Quite a homily, Gertrude; you are evidently behind the progressive
+spirit of the times; when clergymen yacht and boat, and hunt and fish,
+and electioneer in the most layman-wise manner."
+
+"I confess to conservatism on these points," said Gertrude; "I dislike
+a starched minister, as much as I dislike an undignified one. I dislike
+a stupid sermon, as much as I dislike a facetious or a ranting one; I
+dislike a pompous, solemn clergyman, as much as I dislike a jolly,
+story-telling, jovial one. A dignified, gentlemanly, courteous,
+consistent, genial clergyman, it were rare to find; though there are
+such, to whom, when I meet them, my very heart warms; to whom I would
+triumphantly point the carping unbeliever, who, because of the spots
+which defile too many a clerical cassock, sneers indiscriminately at the
+pulpit."
+
+"Well--to change the subject, what have you to show Rose and me, here in
+Boston?" asked John.
+
+"Use your eyes," said Gertrude; "do you not see that the gutters are
+inodorous; that the sidewalks are as clean as a parlor-floor; that the
+children are healthy, and sensibly dressed; that the gentlemen here do
+not smoke in public; that the intellectual, icicle women glide through
+the streets, all dressed after one pattern, with their mouths puckered
+up as if they were going to whistle; and that there is a general air of
+substantiality and well-to-do-ativeness pervading the place; a sort of
+touch-me-not, pharisaical atmosphere of 'stand-aside' propriety?
+
+"Do you not see that slops are not thrown at your ankles from unexpected
+back doors, basements, or windows; that tenement-houses and palatial
+residences do not stand cheek by jowl; that Boston men are handsome,
+but provincial, and do you not know that the munificence of her rich men
+is proverbial.
+
+"Yes, John, Boston is a nice little place; that its inhabitants go to
+church three times on Sunday, is a fixed fact, and that many of them
+discuss fashions going, and slander their neighbors coming back, is
+quite as fixed a fact. If I should advise her, it would be after this
+wise.
+
+"Hop out of thy peck measure, oh Boston! and take at least a _half_
+bushel view of things, so shalt thou be weighed in the balance, and not
+be found wanting!
+
+"And yet thou hast thy sweet Mount Auburn! and for that I will love
+thee. What place of sepulture can compare with it? Planted by Nature's
+own prodigal and tasteful hand, with giant oaks and cedars nesting
+myriad birds, now flitting through the sun-flecked branches, now pluming
+their wings from some moss-grown grave-stone, and soaring upward like
+the freed spirit, over whose mortal dust their sweetest requiem is sung.
+
+"Beautiful Mount Auburn! beautiful when summer's warm breath distills
+spicy odors from thousand flowers, trembling with countless dewy
+diamonds; beautiful when the hushed whisper passes through its tall
+treetops, as weeping trains of mourners wind slowly with their dead
+beneath them.
+
+"Beautiful at daybreak! when the sun gilds thy sacred temple; when the
+first wakeful bird trills out his matin song.
+
+"Beautiful when evening's star creeps softly out, to light the homeless
+widow's footstep to the grave of him, whose strong arm lies stricken at
+her trembling feet.
+
+"Beautiful when the radiant moon silvers lovingly some humble grave,
+monumentless but for the living statue--Grief!
+
+"Beautiful, even when winter's pall softly descends over its sacred
+dust; when the tall pines, in their unchanging armor of green, stand
+firm, like some brave body-guard, while all around is fading, falling,
+dying; pointing silently upward, where there is no shadow of change.
+
+"Beautiful Mount Auburn! beautiful even to the laughing eye which sorrow
+never dimmed; beautiful even to the bounding foot, which despair never
+paralyzed at the tomb's dark portal--but _sacred_ to the rifled heart
+whose dearest treasures lay folded to thy fragrant bosom!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LX.
+
+
+"Is that you, John? because if it is, you can not come in," said
+Gertrude, opening the door just wide enough for her head to be seen.
+
+"I am so miserable, Gertrude."
+
+"Poor John! Well, just wait a bit, and I will open the door;" and
+darting back into the room, Gertrude shuffled away a picture on which
+she had been painting, and then threw open the door of her studio.
+
+"Poor John, what is it?" and Gertrude seated herself on the lounge
+beside him, and laid her cheek against his, "what is it, John?"
+
+"I am so dissatisfied and vexed with myself," said her brother, "I
+thought I was disinterested and unselfish, and I am not. I have caught
+myself hoping that Rose's dream might _not_ prove true--that Vincent
+might never appear, so that I might win her--and she so bound up in him,
+too! I am a disgrace to my manhood, Gertrude, a poor, miserable,
+vacillating, unhappy wretch."
+
+"No, you are not," said Gertrude, kissing his moist eyelids; "only a
+great soul would have made the generous confession which has just passed
+your lips; a more ignoble nature would have excused and palliated it,
+perhaps denied its existence; you _are_ generous, and noble, and good,
+and I only wish you were not my brother, that I might marry you myself;"
+and she tried to force a smile upon John's face, by peeping archly into
+it.
+
+"Do not jest with me, Gertrude; comfort me if you can. I too have had my
+dream; I am about to lose Rose. I can not tell you about it now, it is
+too painfully vivid. How can I live without love? without Rose's love?
+Tell me how you learned, Gertrude, to tame down that fiery heart of
+yours."
+
+Gertrude only replied by her caresses; for, in truth, her heart was too
+full.
+
+There is an _outward_ life visible to all; there is an _inward_ life
+known only to our own souls, and Him who formed them.
+
+_Was_ Gertrude's heart "tamed?"
+
+Ah, there were moments when she threw aside book, pallet, and pencil,
+when she could listen only to its troubled, mournful wailings, because
+there was nothing in all the wide earth, that could satisfy its
+cravings. Only in the Infinite can such a spirit find rest; and leaning
+her head upon John's shoulder, Gertrude sang:
+
+
+     "Oh, ask thou, hope thou not too much
+       From sympathy below;
+     Few are the hearts whence one same touch
+       Bids the sweet fountains flow:
+     Few, and by still conflicting powers,
+       Forbidden here to meet,
+     Such ties would make this world of ours
+       Too fair for aught so fleet;
+
+     "But for those bonds all perfect made,
+       Wherein bright spirits blend;
+     Like sister flowers of one sweet shade,
+       With the same breeze that bends.
+     For that full bliss of soul allied
+       Never to mortals given;
+     Oh, lay thy lovely dreams aside,
+       Or lift them up to Heaven!"
+
+
+"You are a good girl, Gertrude," said her brother. "I am no Puritan, but
+your song has soothed me. There _must_ be something more satisfying in
+another state of existence than there is in this, else were our very
+being a mockery."
+
+"Poor John; he will arrive at the truth by and by," said Gertrude, as he
+left the room. "I think it is easier for woman to lean upon an Almighty
+arm; it is only through disappointment and suffering that man's proud
+spirit is bowed childlike before the cross. And how, when it gets there,
+the soul looks wondering back that it should ever have opposed its own
+poor pride of self to Calvary's meek sufferer!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXI.
+
+
+How the wind roared! how the sails creaked and flapped! and the tall
+masts groaned! How the great vessel rolled from side to side, and tossed
+hither and thither, like a plaything for the winds and waves. The poor
+invalid groaned in his berth with pain and _ennui_. It mattered little
+to him whether the vessel ever made port or not. Sea-sickness is a great
+leveler, making the proud and haughty spirit quail before it, and
+disposing it to receive a sympathizing word from even the humblest.
+
+"A rough sea, sir," said the captain, stripping off his shaggy
+deck-coat, and seating himself by the side of the invalid; "rough even
+for us old sea-dogs; but for a landsman, ah! I see it has taken you all
+aback," and the captain smiled as a man may smile who is quits with old
+Neptune in his fiercest moods.
+
+"I can't say, though," continued the captain, "that you looked any too
+robust when you came on board. I suppose we must take that into the
+account. I hope you find yourself comfortable here--stewardess
+attentive, and so on. She is an uncouth creature, but seems to
+understand her business. Ah! had you been aboard my ship some years ago,
+you would have seen a stewardess! Such a noiseless step; such a gentle
+voice; such a soft touch; it was quite worth while to be sick to be so
+gently cared for."
+
+The invalid made no reply, save to turn his head languidly on the
+pillow; he was too weak, and sick, and dispirited to take any interest
+in the old captain's story.
+
+"I wonder what ever became of her," continued the captain, tapping on
+the lid of his snuff-box; "I made all sorts of inquiries when I returned
+from my last voyage. Such a boy as she had with her! You should have
+seen that boy (bless me, I hope you'll excuse my sneezing). Such a pair
+of eyes; black--like what, I fancy, yours might have been when you were
+young, and handsomer; he was a splendid child. We thought one spell the
+little fellow was going to slip his cable; but he managed to weather the
+storm, and came out from his sickness brighter than ever. Poor Rose! how
+she did love him!"
+
+"Rose?" asked the invalid, for the first time betraying any sign of
+interest.
+
+"Yes; pretty name, wasn't it? and just sweet enough for her too. But,
+poor girl, she was a blighted Rose!" and the old captain set his teeth
+together, and bringing his horny palm down on his knee, exclaimed,
+"Great Cæsar! I should like to see the rascal who broke that woman's
+heart run up to the yard-arm yonder. I don't care how fine a broad-cloth
+such a fellow wears; the better his station the greater his sin, and the
+more weight his damning example carries with it. If a man wants to do a
+mean action, let him not select a woman to victimize. Yes, sir, as I
+said before, I should like to have that fellow dangling from yonder
+yard-arm! I am an old man, and have seen a great deal of this sort of
+thing in my travels round the world. The laws need righting on this
+subject, and if men were not so much interested in letting them remain
+as they are, women would be better protected. Imprisonment for life is
+none too heavy a penalty for such an offense. It is odd," said the old
+captain, reflectively, "how a woman will forgive every thing to a man
+she loves. Now that poor little Rose--she clung to the belief that her
+lover had neither betrayed nor deserted her--isn't it odd now? and isn't
+it a cursed shame," said the old captain, striking his hand down again
+on his knee, "that the most angelic trait in woman's nature should be
+the very noose by which man drags her down to perdition? Hang it, I
+could almost foreswear my own sex when I think of it.
+
+"But you don't agree with me, I suppose," said the captain, unbuttoning
+his vest, as if it impeded the play of his feelings. "You young fellows
+are not apt to look on it in this light. You _will_, sir, if you ever
+have daughters. Every such victim is somebody's daughter, somebody's
+sister. No man can indulge in illicit gratification--not even with a
+consenting party--and say he does no wrong. In the first place, as I
+look at it, he blunts his own moral sense; secondly, that of his
+companion; for it is well known that even the most depraved have moments
+when their better natures are in the ascendant; who can tell that _on
+him_ does not rest the responsibility of balancing the scales at such a
+critical moment? Thirdly, the weight of his example on society; for
+none, not even the humblest, is without his influence; the smallest
+pebble thrown into a lake will widen out its circle; but I am talking
+too much to you," said the old captain; "I think of these things oftener
+since I saw poor Rose. You must forgive me if I said aught to displease
+you."
+
+The invalid stretched out his hand, and said, with a languid smile, "I
+have not strength to talk to you about it now, captain; but God will
+surely bless you for befriending poor Rose, as you call her."
+
+"Oh, that's a trifle!" said the captain; "it was a blessing to look on
+her sweet face and the boy's; you should see that boy, sir; any father
+might have been proud of _him_. Good-day; bear up, now. Nobody dies of
+sea-sickness. We shall make port before long. Let me know if you want
+any thing. Good-day, sir."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXII.
+
+
+"Weeping! dear Gertrude," exclaimed John, as he entered his sister's
+studio, and seated himself by her side.
+
+Gertrude laid her head upon his shoulder without replying.
+
+"You do not often see me thus," she said, after a pause. "To-day is the
+anniversary of my husband's death, and as I sat at the window and saw
+the autumn wind showering down the bright leaves, I thought of that
+mournful October day, when, turning despairingly away from his dying
+moans, I walked to the window of his sick room, and saw the leaves
+eddying past as they do now. I could almost see again before me that
+pallid face, almost hear those fleeting, spasmodic breaths, and all the
+old agony woke up again within me. And yet," said Gertrude, smiling
+through her tears, "such blissful memories of his love came with it! Oh!
+surely, John, love like this perishes not with its object--dies not in
+this world?
+
+"And my little Arthur, too, John--you have never seen my treasures. You
+have never looked upon the faces which made earth such a paradise for
+me;" and touching a spring in a rosewood box near her, Gertrude drew
+from it the pictures of her husband and child, and as John scanned their
+features in silence, she leaned upon his shoulder, and the bright
+teardrops fell like rain upon them.
+
+"It is seldom that I allow myself to look at them," she said. "I were
+unfitted else for life's duties."
+
+"It is a fine face,", said John, gazing at that of Gertrude's husband.
+"It is a faithful index of the noble soul you worship. Your boy's face
+is yours in miniature, Gertrude."
+
+"Yes; and I so deplored it after my husband's death; I used to watch so
+eagerly for one flitting expression of his father's."
+
+John replaced the pictures in the box with a sigh, and sat a few moments
+thinking.
+
+"Gertrude, do you know that your nature would never have fully developed
+itself in prosperity? The rain was as needful as the sunshine to ripen
+and perfect it."
+
+"Yes, I feel that," said his sister. "And when I look around and see
+divided households; husbands and wives wedded to misery; parents, whose
+clutching love for gold swallows up every parental feeling; children,
+whose memories of home are hate, and discord, and all uncharitableness,
+I hug my brief day of unalloyed happiness to my bosom, and cheerfully
+accept my lot at His hand who hath disposed it."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXIII.
+
+
+     "Dear Tom--
+
+     "Received your last letter by the Baltic. It was a gem, as usual.
+     If your book is half as good, you will make your reputation and a
+     fortune out of it. I knew you would like Paris; it is the only
+     place in the world to live in. I hope yet to end my days there.
+
+     "And speaking of ending days, I have the most extraordinary thing
+     to tell you:
+
+     "Jack--our glorious dare-devil Jack--has turned parson! Actual
+     parson--black coat, white neck-tie, and long-tailed surtout--it is
+     incredible! The little opera-dancer, Felissitimi, laughed till she
+     was black in the face when I told her. It is no laughing matter to
+     me, though, for he was always my shadow. I miss him at the club,
+     the billiard-table, at King street, and every where else. It is
+     confoundedly provoking. I feel like half a pair of scissors, and
+     wander round in a most unriveted state.
+
+     "Such crowds as Jack draws to hear him! There is no church in town
+     that will hold all his admiring listeners. _I_ have not been, from
+     principle, because I think all that sort of thing is a deuced
+     humbug, and I won't countenance it. But the other night, Menia did
+     not perform, as was announced on the play-bills, and I looked about
+     quite at a loss where to spend my evening. The first thing I knew,
+     I found myself borne along with the current toward John's church.
+     Then I said to myself 'Now if that crowd choose to relieve me of
+     the responsibility of countenancing John's nonsense, by _pushing_
+     me into that church, well and good;' so I just resigned myself to
+     the elbowing tide. And, by Jove! the first thing I knew, there I
+     was, in a broad aisle-pew, sitting down as demure as if I were
+     Aminidab Sleek.
+
+     "Well, pretty soon John came in. How well he had got himself up in
+     that black suit! It was miraculous. I looked round on the
+     women--_he_ had them! With that musical voice of his, even that old
+     hymn he read, sounded as well as any thing of Byron's. His prayer
+     was miraculous!--I can't think how he did it; one would have
+     supposed he felt every syllable; but you and I know Jack.
+
+     "Well, then came the sermon. 'Cast thy bread upon the waters, for
+     thou shalt find it after many days.' He said it was in the Bible,
+     and I suppose it was; I never heard of it before, but that may be
+     for want of reading. By that time I was all eyes and ears. I knew
+     he had impudence enough, so I was not afraid of his breaking down;
+     and if he did, so much the better; there'd be something to laugh
+     at him about.
+
+     "Now, Tom, you can't credit what I am going to tell you; that
+     fellow began to relate his own experience; beginning with the
+     prayers and hymns his mother taught him, and which he gradually
+     lost the recollection of after she died, and as he grew older; then
+     he described--and, by Jove, he did it well--his past downward
+     steps, as he called them (I think that expression is open to
+     discussion, Tom), the temptations of his youth, the gradual searing
+     of conscience, and Satan's final triumph, when he cast off all
+     restraint, and acknowledged no law but the domination of his own
+     mad passions. Then he described his life at that point, _our_
+     life--(I wonder if he saw _me_ there?) he spoke of the occasional
+     twinges of conscience, growing fainter, fainter, and at last dying
+     out altogether.
+
+     "Then came his waking up from that long trance of sin, our meeting
+     with that old lady in the street--(you remember, Tom), and the
+     tearful look which she bent on him, when in reply to some remark of
+     mine, he exclaimed,
+
+     "'Jesus Christ!'
+
+     "Then, how that look had haunted him, tortured him, by day and
+     night; how it had wakened to new life all the buried memories of
+     childhood--his mother's prayers and tears, and dying words; and
+     how, after wrestling with it, through deeper depths of sin than
+     any into which he had yet plunged, he had yielded to the holy
+     spell, and that 'Jesus Christ' had now become to him, with
+     penitential utterance, 'My Lord and my God.'
+
+     "Tom--there was not a dry eye in that church when Jack got through,
+     no--not even mine, for I caught the infection (I might as well own
+     it); I felt as wicked as old King Herod; and all day to-day--it is
+     a rainy day, though, and I suppose, when the sun shines out, I
+     shall feel better, I have not been able to get that sermon out of
+     my mind. I don't believe in it, of course not; hang me if I know
+     what _does_ ail me; I am inclined to think it is a bad fit of
+     indigestion. I must have a game at billiards. Write me.
+
+     "Yours,
+     "FINELS."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXIV.
+
+
+"How you grow, Charley," said John, tossing him up on his shoulder, and
+walking up to the looking-glass. "It seems but yesterday that you lay
+wrapped up in your blanket a-board Captain Lucas' ship with your thumb
+in your mouth (that unfailing sign of a good-natured baby), thinking of
+nothing at all; and now here you are six years' old to-day--think of
+that man? and I dare say you expect a birth-day present."
+
+"Yes, if you please," said Charley.
+
+"There, now; that is to the point. I like an honest boy. What will you
+have, Charley?"
+
+"Something pretty for my mamma," said the loving little heart.
+
+"Better still," said John; "but mamma won't take presents. I have tried
+her a great many times. There is one I want very much to make her, but
+she always says 'No.'" And John glanced at Gertrude.
+
+"Mind what you say," whispered his sister. "He might chance to repeat it
+to his mother."
+
+"So much the better, Gertrude. Then she will be sure to think of me at
+least one minute.
+
+"But, Charley, tell me what _you_ want. I would like to get you
+something for _yourself_."
+
+"I want my papa," said Charley, resolutely. "Tommy Fritz keeps saying
+that I 'haven't got any papa.' _Haven't_ I got a papa, cousin John?"
+
+"You have a Father in heaven," said John, kissing Charley as he evaded
+the earnest question.
+
+"When did he die? I want you to tell me all about him, cousin John,
+because Tommy Fritz sits next me at school and teases me so about not
+having any papa."
+
+"Fritz?" repeated John, turning to Gertrude; "Fritz?--the name sounds
+familiar. Where could I have heard it? Fritz?" and John paced up and
+down the room, trying to remember.
+
+"Yes, Tommy Fritz," repeated Charley; "and Tommy's big brother comes to
+school with him some days, and he saw me, and told Tommy that I hadn't
+any papa."
+
+"Did you say any thing to your mamma about it?" asked John.
+
+"No," said Charley, with a very resolute shake of the head, "because it
+always makes mamma look so sad when I talk to her about papa; but I
+don't want Tommy to plague me any more. Is it bad not to have a papa,
+cousin John?"
+
+"There are a great many little boys whose papas are dead," said John.
+"Yes, it is bad for them, because they feel lonesome without them, just
+as you do."
+
+Charley looked very earnestly in John's face, as if he were not
+satisfied with his answer, and yet as if he did not know how better to
+make himself understood. Looking thoughtfully on the ground a few
+moments, he said--
+
+"Was my papa good, cousin John?"
+
+John drew Charley closer to his breast. "I did not know your papa, my
+dear, but your mamma loves him very much, and she is so good herself
+that I think she would not love him so were he not a good man."
+
+"I'm _so_ glad!" exclaimed Charley, with sparkling eyes. "May I tell
+Tommy Fritz that?" he asked, with the caution acquired by too early an
+acquaintance with sorrow.
+
+"Certainly," said John, secretly resolving to inquire into this Fritz
+matter himself.
+
+"Your mother is calling you, Charley," said Gertrude. "Poor little
+fellow," she added, as he ran nimbly out of the room. "Just think of a
+child with such a frank outspoken nature, burying such a corroding
+mystery in his own loving little heart, rather than pain his mother by
+asking for a solution. Poor Rose--the haunting specter which her
+prophet-eye discerned in her child's future, has assumed shape sooner
+than even she dreamed. Who can this 'big Fritz' be, John? and where
+could he have known Rose?"
+
+"I have it," exclaimed John, stopping suddenly before his sister, with a
+deep red flush upon his face. "This Fritz was a fellow-passenger of
+Rose's and mine on board Captain Lucas's vessel. The conceited puppy
+imagined that Rose would save him the trouble of gathering her by
+dropping at his feet--he found thorns instead of a rose, and his wounded
+vanity has taken this mean revenge. But he shall learn Rose has a
+protector," said John, folding his arms, and closing his lips firmly
+together.
+
+"I shall do nothing rashly," said he, shaking off the clasp of
+Gertrude's hand. "Puppy"--he exclaimed--"contemptible coward, with all
+his pretensions to the title of a gentleman, to slander a woman!"
+
+"Defining the word gentleman in that way," answered Gertrude, "the ranks
+would be pretty well thinned out. Some do it with a shrug--some with an
+uplifted eyebrow--some with a curl of the lip--some with a protracted
+whistle; and many a 'gentleman,' to make himself the paltry hero of the
+hour, has uttered boasting words of vanity, false as his own black
+heart; and many a virtuous woman has had occasion to repel insults
+growing out of this dastardly mention of her name before strangers, that
+else would never have been offered her. The crime is so common as to
+excite little or no reprehension, as to be little or no barrier in the
+intercourse between gentlemen. If every man who honors woman, and who
+finds himself in such unscrupulous society--testified his abhorrence by
+turning his back upon such a circle, the rebuke would soon tell. There
+_are_ those whose standard of manly honor requires this in an associate.
+
+"What! going, John?"
+
+"Yes, I am too irritable to be good company; I must cool off my
+indignation by a walk in the open air. Go and sit with Rose, Gertrude;
+it may be that Charley may drop some word that will make known to her
+this new trouble."
+
+"Never fear him," said Gertrude, "I don't know whether to call it
+instinct or tact, but he always seems to know what to say, and what to
+leave unsaid; he has the most lightning perceptions of any child I ever
+saw. No subtle shade of meaning in conversation seems to escape him, and
+he will often drop a remark which convinces you that he has grasped the
+subject at the very moment you are contriving some way to elucidate your
+meaning. Poor little Charley--it is always such natures whose heritage
+is sorrow."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXV.
+
+
+The old Bond mansion, though threatening to tumble down at every
+wind-gust, stood just where Rose had left it. The woodbine still
+festooned its piazza with green garlands in summer, and scarlet and
+purple berries and leaves in autumn. The tall butternut-trees still
+stood sentinel before it, the old moss-roofed barn leaned over on one
+side, like some old veteran whose work was almost done, and the
+iron-gray horse still took his afternoon-roll on the grass-plot before
+the door, kicking up his hoofs in the very face of old Time. The brown
+chickens, once Charley's delight, had become respectable mothers of
+families, and clucked round after their lordly chanticleer, too happy to
+escape with half a dozen rebuffs a day from his majesty, and old Bruno,
+the house-dog, took longer naps on the sunny side of the house, and was
+less irascible at tin peddlers and stray cattle. The once nicely-kept
+little garden was overrun with pig-weed and nettles, and the tall,
+slender hollyhocks swung hither and thither with their flushed faces,
+like some awkward overgrown school-girl, looking for a place to hide.
+
+It was five o'clock in the afternoon, and yet old Mrs. Bond had not
+thrown open the kitchen-door opposite the well-sweep, or filled the
+tea-kettle, or kindled up the kitchen-fire for tea. But look! a strange
+woman steps out upon the piazza; such a woman as every country village
+boasts; round, rubicund, check-aproned and spectacled, with very long
+cap-strings, turtle-shaped feet, thick ankles, and no waist. With her
+fat, red hands crossed over the place where her waist once was, she
+steps out on the piazza and looks over her spectacles, this way and
+that, up and down the road.
+
+The little brook babbles on as usual, and the linden-trees and maples
+are nodding and whispering to each other across the road; but nothing
+else is stirring. So Mrs. Simms goes back into the house, and closes the
+door, and Bruno gives a low growl to signify that all is right, as far
+as he knows.
+
+Then Mrs. Simms lays her hand on the latch of the sitting-room door, and
+softly glides in. It is very dark; just a ray of light is shining in
+through a chink in the shutter. She opens it a little further, and the
+pleasant afternoon sunlight streams in across the floor--across the pine
+table--across the coffin--across the placid face of good, dear, old Mrs.
+Bond.
+
+She has gone to that city where "there is no need of the sun, nor of the
+moon, to shine in it, for the glory of God doth lighten it, and the Lamb
+is the light thereof."
+
+And now the neighbors drop in gently, one by one. Not one there but can
+remember some simple act of kindness, which makes the warm tears drop
+upon the placid face, upon which they are looking for the last time.
+Mrs. Bond had no kin; and yet every trembling lip there, called her
+"mother."
+
+Not for thee, "mother," whom the busy world honored not, whom the Lord
+of Glory crowned; not for _thee_ the careless city sepulture, the
+jostled hearse, the laughing, noisy, busy crowd. Reverently the prayer
+is said; now the little, rosy child is lifted up, to see how sweet a
+smile even icy Death may wear; and now toil-hardened hands, though
+kindly, bear her gently on to the quiet corner in the leafy church-yard,
+to which she has so long looked forward. The mold has fallen on her
+breast, the grave is spaded over, and still they linger, loth to leave
+even to the fragrant night, the kindly heart which had beat so long
+responsive to their homely joys and sorrows.
+
+Oh, many such an earth-dimmed diamond shall Jehovah set sparkling in his
+crown, in the day when he maketh up his jewels.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXVI.
+
+
+It is astonishing the miles one may pass over unconsciously when one's
+mind is absorbed in thought. John strode rapidly down street, after his
+interview with Gertrude, running against foot-passengers with an
+audacity which his bland "beg pardon" scarcely atoned for. Some scowled,
+some muttered "tipsy;" an old apple-woman whose basket he upset, picked
+up the half-dollar he threw her with a very equivocal look of thanks,
+and a lady whose flounces he pinned to the sidewalk, darted vengeance at
+him, from a pair of eyes evidently made only for love-glances. Poor,
+distracted John! pedestrians should have seen that his elbow had a
+pugilistic crook in it, which might have notified any one with half an
+eye, that he was in a state of mind. But it is heart-rending how
+indifferent and stupid the out-door world is to one's individual frames.
+The hardhearted teamster persists in halting his cart on the only dry
+street-crossing, though bright eyes look down imploringly at pretty
+gaiter boots; gentlemen who have practiced before the looking-glass the
+most killing way of carrying a cane, and finally settled down upon the
+arm-pit style, mercilessly extinguish unwary eyes with the protruding
+weapon. It matters not to the smoker that he poisons the fresh air upon
+which one has depended to cure a villainous headache. It matters not
+that the stain of the cigar-stump he tosses upon your dress, is as
+indelible as the stamp of loaferism upon the best-dressed man who smokes
+in the street. It matters not to the grocer's boy, as he walks with his
+head hind side before, that he draws a slimy salt-fish across a silk
+mantle, or fetches up against a brocade with a quart of molasses. It
+matters not that you are unable to decide whether the world is not big
+enough, or whether there are too many people in it; the census keeps
+going on all the same.
+
+As our hero was sufficiently unfashionable never to have defiled his
+very handsome mouth with a cigar, he had no escape-valve for his
+irritation but accelerated motion; and that brought him, after a time,
+to the door of a restaurant which stood invitingly open. Entering,
+partly from weariness, partly from extreme thirst, consequent upon being
+in an excited state, he seated himself in a curtained alcove, and
+tossing his hat on the table, gave his order to the waiter, and
+listlessly took up a newspaper. Ere his eyes were riveted upon any
+particular paragraph, voices in the next alcove attracted his attention.
+
+"Do you stay long in the city?"
+
+"I think not; only a day or two."
+
+"Well, there are plenty of things to look at, if you are fond of
+sight-seeing; and if your taste runs to women, we have plenty of fair
+faces. There is one in ---- street--ripe, rosy lips--such a foot, and
+such a symmetrical little form; knows what she is about, too--demure as
+a nun and sly as a priest; took me completely in with her Methodist way.
+I thought she was what she pretended to be, and all the time she was
+carrying on a most desperate flirtation with a fellow by the name of
+Perry. She was a picture, that little Rose, and now it seems he has
+caged her at last."
+
+"Rose? Married her?"
+
+"Lord bless you, no--of course not. He schools the boy, and all
+that--pays the bills, etc.--you understand. The boy goes to school with
+my little brother; that's the way I tracked her out. You see, it was on
+board ship I first saw her, and then I lost sight of her again until I
+got this clew. This whining Perry carried her off under my very
+nose--I--who have had such success; well, I don't wish to boast, but
+Perry's money was the thing--women are mercenary creatures. I suppose
+she passes here for respectable. They have a lady with them whom Perry
+pretends is his sister, to give it a more respectable air. No woman
+treats me with contempt without rueing it. By Jupiter, she was as
+imperious as a duchess because I honored her with a few compliments.
+I'll turn their little comedy into a tragedy, as sure as my name is
+Fritz."
+
+"I will save you that trouble," exclaimed John, darting into the
+alcove, and slapping him across the face with his glove. "There's my
+card. You know me, sir," and he stood facing him with folded arms.
+
+It is half the battle to have right on one's side, and Fritz was taken
+at a liar's disadvantage. Conscious of this, he made no attempt at a
+retort, but pointing to "his friend," muttered something to John about
+"hearing from him."
+
+John strode out into the open air, to the astonishment of the
+open-mouthed waiter, who stood, tray in hand.
+
+"A word with you, sir," said the gentleman, whom he had just seen in
+Fritz's company, following him. "The lady who was the occasion of this
+quarrel--'Rose'--I would speak of _her_."
+
+"I am not accustomed to hearing her so familiarly designated by a
+stranger," answered Perry, haughtily.
+
+"Pardon me!" exclaimed the gentleman, much agitated. "I--I--in fact,
+sir, I am a stranger to Mr. Fritz. We met casually in a railroad-car,
+and meeting me just now before De Marco's, he invited me in to take a
+glass of wine with him. I have declined having any thing to do as his
+second in this affair. His manner to you convinced me that he has no
+right to consider himself a gentleman. With regard to the lady, sir, it
+may seem to you an impertinence that I should speak of her again--the
+name attracted me--it is that of a dear lost friend--I fancied this
+might be she," and the speaker became more agitated. "Now--it is at
+your option, sir, whether to pursue the subject further."
+
+John looked him in the face; there was goodness there, and must have
+been sorrow, too--for the eyes were sunken and the form emaciated, and
+his thin pale hands were as transparent as a woman's.
+
+"Could this be _he_?" and John in his turn became agitated.
+
+"If it were? should he lead him out of this labarynth of doubt? should
+he place in his hand the thread which should conduct him through its dim
+shadows out under the clear blue sky, 'mid soft breezes and blossoming
+flowers? or leave him there to grope, while he wooed the blessed
+sun-light for his own path?"
+
+The temptation was but for a moment.
+
+"You seem feeble," said John, kindly, though his voice still trembled
+with emotion; "do me the favor to accompany me home, and then we will
+talk of this more at length."
+
+The two walked on, overshadowed each with the presence of a power, of
+which all of us have been at some eventful moment conscious, and over
+which the conventionalities of life have had no control. It did not seem
+strange therefore to either, that they who had exchanged words, so
+fraught with meaning to each, should walk on side by side in thoughtful
+silence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXVII.
+
+
+Arrived at John's lodgings, he ushered the stranger into Gertrude's
+studio, of which she had given him the key when they parted, as she
+intended riding out with Rose. Motioning him to a seat, and adding that
+he would rejoin him presently, John left him there alone.
+
+The stranger looked around; there were landscape, game, fruit, cattle,
+and flower pieces, and all so exquisitely painted that any other moment
+each would have been a study to him--now heart and brain were both
+pre-occupied. What was in store for him? He felt this to be a
+turning-point in his life.
+
+
+A slight jar, and a picture, which stands with the back toward him,
+falls over. The stranger rises, and stoops to replace it!
+
+Ah!--why that suppressed cry of joy? Why those passionate kisses on the
+insensible canvas? Why those fast-falling tears, and heart-beaming
+smiles?
+
+
+"It is not _your_ mamma--it is _my_ mamma," said Charley, stepping up
+between the picture and the stranger.
+
+"His own eyes! his own brow! and Rose's sweet mouth! his own, and
+Rose's child!
+
+"My God, I thank thee!" he murmured; but the thin arms that were
+outstretched to clasp his new found treasure, fell powerless at his
+side. To sorrow he had become inured; he could not bear the out-gushing
+fountain of joy.
+
+John, who had been an unseen spectator, had not looked for this tragic
+termination of his test. On _his_ kind heart his rival's head was
+pillowed, _his_ hand bathed his cold temples, _his_ voice assisted
+returning consciousness.
+
+"Who is he?" whispered Charley, tiptoeing up to John.
+
+"Ask him," whispered John, as the stranger slowly opened his eyes.
+
+Charley advanced, then retreated a step--then, won by the beaming smile
+which irradiated the stranger's face, he asked,
+
+"Did you come here to see my Aunt Gertrude's pictures?"
+
+"No," replied the stranger, with the same bright smile.
+
+"Did you come to see John?"
+
+"No, my dear."
+
+"Did you come to see me?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What did you come to see me, for?"
+
+Drawing him closer to his heart, and kissing his brow, the stranger
+said, "See if you can not guess."
+
+Charley looked at Cousin John, but the conflicting expressions which
+flitted over his face gave him no clew. He looked at the stranger--his
+dark eyes were brimming with tears, but the same smile still played upon
+his lips. Charley stood for a moment irresolute, then, with another
+timid look into his face, he said, "I don't know--_certainly_--who you
+are, but--"
+
+"But what, my dear?"
+
+"Perhaps--you are my own papa come home."
+
+No reply--but a deadly pallor overspread the stranger's face as he
+glanced in the direction of the door. John, who was standing with his
+back to it, turned around--and there--in the doorway, stood Rose with
+her small head bent forward--her lips apart--and her dilated eyes fixed
+upon the prostrate form before her. It was only for an instant--with a
+piercing cry, in which fear and joy both found utterance, she bounded to
+his side--kissed his brow, his lips, his eyes. Oh, was death to divide
+them then? God forbid!
+
+"Vincent--Vincent--my own Vincent!" and in that long, idolatrous kiss,
+her woman's heart absolved the past, whatever that past might be.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXVIII.
+
+
+"Sit down by me--tell me what you have learned from Rose," said John,
+the next day to his sister.
+
+"His history is so singular," said Gertrude, "that in a novel it would
+be stigmatized as incredible, overdrawn, and absurd; in truth, a
+novelist who would not subject himself to such charges must not too
+closely follow Nature. If the gorgeous colors of our autumnal scenery
+were faithfully transferred to canvas, the artist would be considered a
+glaring, tasteless burlesquer. Both artist and novelist must learn to
+'tone down' their pictures; but as my story is not for the critic's ear,
+but for yours, John, I shall tell it verbatim.
+
+
+     VINCENT'S HISTORY.
+
+     "Rose and Vincent were legally married by the Rev. Mr. Lehmann, a
+     few miles from the boarding-school where Vincent first saw Rose.
+     Vincent took her from thence immediately to the hotel, where his
+     friend, the Rev. Mr. Lehmann, was staying for a few days previous
+     to his departure for the Continent. The rector's brother, who was
+     with him, was the witness to the ceremony.
+
+     "Rose and Vincent then left for a few days' sojourn in a
+     neighboring city. There Vincent received intelligence of the dying
+     condition of his aged father. As his father had been unapprised of
+     his sudden marriage, he thought it not best to take Rose with him
+     at such a time;--providing, therefore, every thing necessary for
+     her comfort, and expecting to be gone at farthest but a few days,
+     he took a reluctant leave of her--he little thought for how long a
+     time.
+
+     "Part of the journey lay off from the regular public conveyances;
+     and Vincent, being anxious to return to Rose as soon as possible,
+     hesitated not, though the road was lonely, to perform it at night
+     on horseback. On this night he was met by a gang of desperados,
+     who, unknown to him, herded in the vicinity, and who attacked him
+     and left him for dead, after possessing themselves of his watch,
+     pocket-book, and papers. There he was found the next day, by a
+     passing traveler, in an insensible state, and taken to the nearest
+     farm-house. He was quite unable to give any account of himself; and
+     not wishing to be burdened with the care of him, they put him into
+     a cart and took him to the county poor-house. Here his sufferings,
+     aggravated by neglect, assumed the form of brain fever, and from
+     thence, after awhile, he was removed to the lunatic asylum, where
+     he remained for a year without any symptoms of returning reason.
+
+     "His distress, when he finally became conscious of the length of
+     time which had elapsed since he left Rose, was too much for his
+     weak frame. A relapse ensued, and for months longer he vibrated
+     between life and death.
+
+     "When consciousness again returned, though weakened in body and
+     enfeebled in mind, he commenced his weary search for Rose. He could
+     hear nothing except that part of her story which he gleaned from
+     Mrs. Bond, and which only served to aggravate his distress. Since
+     then he has traveled unceasingly in steamboats, railroad cars, and
+     stages; haunted hotels, haunted villages, and loitered trembling in
+     churchyards. There is no misery like suspense, and acting upon an
+     already enfeebled frame, it sapped the very fountains of life, and
+     reduced him so fearfully as to render him quite unable to bear the
+     sudden shock of joy which so unexpectedly met him."
+
+     "Poor Vincent!" exclaimed John; "and I have grudged him his
+     happiness."
+
+     "Dear John!"
+
+     "Where was Charley born, Gertrude?"
+
+     "In a Lying-in Hospital; in which poor Rose took refuge when the
+     sorrowful hour drew near.
+
+     "Then," said Gertrude, resuming her story, "Rose's husband had a
+     cousin of the same name as himself, extravagant, reckless, and
+     dissipated, who, though only twenty-five, had run through a
+     handsome property, inherited in his own right from his grandmother,
+     besides making unreasonable demands upon the paternal
+     purse-strings. The old gentleman at last remonstrated, and the
+     young man's affairs being even worse than he had dared to
+     represent, he became desperate and unscrupulous.
+
+     "The father of Rose's husband, who, spite of the profligacy of his
+     nephew, cherished a warm attachment for him, had willed him his
+     property, in case of his son's death. This the young spendthrift
+     was aware of, and when he first heard of the old gentleman's
+     illness, he planned with three desperados to murder his cousin, and
+     remove the only obstacle to his immediate possession of the
+     fortune."
+
+     "How was this discovered?" asked John.
+
+     "It was revealed by one of the gang on his deathbed, though not
+     until after the instigator had met his own doom at the hands of a
+     woman whom he had betrayed and deserted."
+
+     "Then," said John, after a pause, "Rose and her husband have no
+     immediate means of support. It is happiness to know that I can be
+     of service even now."
+
+     "But Vincent is not a man to incur such an obligation," said his
+     sister, "enfeebled as he is."
+
+     "He must--he shall," said the generous John, "at least till he is
+     stronger and better able to substantiate his claim to what is
+     rightfully his own; he _may_ get even more than his own," said
+     John, "when the old lady in New Orleans finds out that he is the
+     father of the beautiful child she fancied so much; the family
+     likeness must have been well handed down in Charley's face."
+
+     "That is not strange," said Gertrude; "cases have occurred in which
+     the family likeness, after having been apparently wholly
+     obliterated, has re-appeared in the third or fourth generation."
+
+     "Well, Vincent's story passes belief," said John; "truth _is_,
+     indeed, stranger than fiction."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXIX.
+
+
+Had cousin John no war to wage with self? Could the long-hoarded hope of
+years be relinquished without a struggle? Could blissful days and
+nights, in which to breathe the same air with Rose, win even the
+faintest smile, were reward enough for any toil,--could such memories
+cease at once to thrill? Could he see that smile, in all its brightness,
+beaming upon another?--hear that voice ten fold more musically modulated
+whispering (not for him) words he would have died to hear--and not feel
+a pang bitter as death? Tell me, ye who have made earth-idols only to
+see them pass away?
+
+No--cousin John felt all this; Rose lost all was lost--nothing to toil
+for--nothing to hope for--nothing to live for.
+
+Was it indeed so? He dashed the unmanly tears away. Was he, indeed, such
+a poor, selfish driveler that the happiness of her whom he loved was
+less dear to him than his own? Was it no joy to see that sweet eye
+brighten with hope, though kindled by another? Was it nothing to see the
+shadow of shame pass from that fair brow, and see it lifted in the
+world's scornful face in loving pride to him who rightfully called her
+"wife?" Was it nothing that Charley's little heaving heart had found his
+own papa?
+
+"Shame--shame--was _his_ manly heart powerless to bear what _she_, whom
+he so loved, had borne in all her woman's feebleness?"
+
+"I knew it would be so, John," said Gertrude, gazing into her brother's
+calm face, in which the traces of suffering still lingered. "I knew you
+could conquer"--and tears of sympathy fell upon the hand she pressed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXX.
+
+
+"Sit down," said John, a few hours after, as Vincent rapped at his
+room-door. "I was just wishing for you, although it were cruel to
+monopolize you a moment, at such a time as this. Sit down--I want to
+confess to you," said John, with a heightened color. "It will make my
+heart easier--it will be better for both of us.
+
+"Vincent--you have taken away from me all that has made life dear to me
+since I first saw your--since I first saw Rose; and yet"--and John
+reached out his hand--"I can look on your happiness and hers, and thank
+God for it. It has cost me a struggle--but it is all over now. Peerless
+as Rose is--I feel that you are worthy of her."
+
+"I can not find words to say what I would," said Vincent; "by my gain,
+my dear friend, I can measure your loss," and he grasped John's hand
+with unfeigned emotion. "Rose has spoken of you to me in a way this
+morning that, independent of this noble frankness on your part, would
+forever have insured you a brother's place in my heart. How can I thank
+you for it all? How can I prove to you my gratitude for your kindness
+to me and mine?"
+
+"By not leaving us," answered John; "by considering my ample means as
+yours, and Rose's, and Charley's; by making my otherwise solitary life
+glad, bright, and blessed by your presence; by placing a confidence in
+me which you will never have cause to regret," said John, with a flushed
+brow.
+
+"I know it--I believe it--I know it--God bless you," said Vincent; "you
+can ask nothing that I could refuse. Had it not been for you, I might
+never have found my treasures. I will be your guest for a time, until I
+have established claims which I must not neglect, for those who are dear
+to me--and _then_ our homes shall be one. God bless you, John, my
+brother."
+
+Rose glided in! Oh how surpassingly lovely! with those love-brimming
+eyes and that sunny smile. Placing her little hand in John's, she said,
+"and my brother, too."
+
+"Seal it with a kiss, Rose," said Vincent.
+
+"That I will," exclaimed the happy little wife. "Kiss me, John."
+
+"Me, too," said Charley. "Oh, John, is not _he_ (pointing to Vincent)
+all of our papas? Mayn't I run and tell Tommy Fritz?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXI.
+
+
+It was a cold January night. The stars glowed and sparkled, and ever and
+anon shot rapidly across the clear blue sky, as if it was out of all
+reason to expect them to stay on duty such a bitter night, without a
+little occasional exercise.
+
+The few pedestrians whom business had unfortunately driven out, hurried
+along with rapid strides, steaming breath, and hands thrust into their
+pockets; and, as their arms protruded, handle-fashion, they might have
+been mistaken for so many brown jugs in locomotion.
+
+Through many a richly-curtained window, the bright lights gleamed
+cheerfully, while the merry song or laugh from within, might be heard by
+the shivering outsiders, quickening the steps of those who were so lucky
+as to have firesides of their own, and making the night, to those who
+had none, seem still more cold and drear.
+
+Beneath one of these brilliantly-lighted windows, down upon the frosty
+pavement, crouched a bundle of rags, it scarce seemed more, so
+motionless had it lain there, for hours; for on such a bitter night no
+one felt inclined to stop and investigate it; and yet there was life
+within it, feeble and nickering though it was.
+
+Now and then a pair of hollow eyes gleamed out, and gazed wildly about,
+and then the lids would close over them, and the head droop back again
+to its old posture.
+
+Now and then a murmur issued from the parched lips, and one might have
+heard, had he been very near, the words--
+
+"Mercy! mercy!"
+
+And still from the window above, the bird-like voice caroled out its
+sweet song, and merry voices joined in the chorus.
+
+Now a little child, with broad, expansive brow, and sweet, soul-lit
+eyes, parts the rich damask curtains, and pressing his little face
+closely against the window-pane, gazes out into the frosty night.
+
+"How brightly the gleaming stars shine! I wonder how _long_ have they
+shone? I wonder are they _really_ all little worlds? and people in them?
+I wonder--" and here the child stopped, for the bundle of rags beneath
+the window gave a convulsive heave, and his quick ear had caught the
+words despair had uttered:
+
+"Mercy! mercy!"
+
+"Oh! papa--dear papa, Gertrude, John, oh, come!" and with heart of pity
+and winged feet, little Charley darted through the dining-room door, out
+into the wide hall, and down the steps to the bundle of rags whence the
+sound issued.
+
+The eyes had closed again, the head had drooped, and the poor thin,
+outstretched hands fallen hopelessly down upon the frosty pavement.
+
+"Run in, Charley," said John; "the air is bitter cold. Move away, dear,
+and let me take this poor creature up."
+
+It was a light burthen, that bundle of rags, though the heart beneath it
+was so heavy.
+
+Rose and Gertrude sprang forward and arranged pillows on the sofa for
+the dying woman, for such she seemed to be, and chafed her hands and
+temples, while John and Vincent dropped some wine between the pale lips.
+
+Slowly she opened her eyes. Warmth! light! kind words! kind faces! Where
+was she?
+
+Now Rose bends over her a face pitying as God's angels. The hollow eyes
+glare wildly upon it, a spasm passes over the pale face of the sufferer,
+and as she turns away to the pillow, she falters out,
+
+"Oh! God forgive me! Mercy! mercy!"
+
+"May He grant it!" said the shuddering Rose, hiding her face in her
+husband's bosom, as Markham's despairing, dying wail rang in her ears.
+"May God grant it, even at the eleventh hour."
+
+When youth had passed, and, standing upon the threshhold of manhood,
+Charley looked out upon the tangled web of life, and saw (_seemingly_)
+the scales of eternal justice unevenly balanced, memory painted again,
+in freshened colors, _that_ scene, and inscribed beneath it--
+
+GOD IS JUST!
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+IN PRESS.
+
+
+EDITH;
+
+OR, THE QUAKER'S DAUGHTER.
+
+1 Vol., 12mo. Price $1.
+
+As a powerfully-written romance of puritanical times, this book can not
+fail to enchain the attention of the reader. The interest of the story
+begins with the very first page, and is continued on through the volume
+to the close. The trials and the sufferings of that persecuted sect, the
+Quakers, are told in bold and thrilling language.
+
+
+HAMPTON HEIGHTS.
+
+A DOMESTIC TALE.
+
+1 Vol., 12mo. Price $1.25.
+
+The events of this volume are founded on facts. Many persons now
+residing in Connecticut will recognize not only the incidents, but many
+of the characters, which are introduced into the story. The characters,
+in many respects, are faithful portraitures of individuals now living,
+who played in real life the parts assigned them in this volume. Caleb
+Starbuck, the author, is evidently an "old salt;" and the story savors
+much of the interest of the forecastle.
+
+
+THE INDIAN FAIRY BOOK.
+
+FROM ORIGINAL LEGENDS.
+
+Illustrated by JOHN MCLENAN.
+
+1 Vol., 12mo. Price $1.
+
+This book will prove a most acceptable holiday present for the old and
+young. It contains various prettily-told fairy stories, derived from
+original sources, placed at the disposal of the Editor by HENRY R.
+SCHOOLCRAFT, ESQ. They do not treat of the tomahawk and scalping-knife,
+but are correct transfers of those beautiful mythological traditions
+which are found only among the Indians. The illustrations are elegant
+and appropriate, being elaborately engraved by Anthony in a style
+hitherto unsurpassed. Altogether the book will prove one of the best
+works for a holiday present that has yet been published.
+
+
+IN PRESS.
+
+LANMERE.
+
+BY MRS. JULIA C. R. DORR,
+
+Author of "Farmingdale."
+
+1 Vol., 12mo. Price $1.25.
+
+"Farmingdale" has won for its author a deserved popularity. In "Lanmere"
+she has not done herself injustice. It is a tale of great power and
+brilliancy.
+
+
+LETTERS
+
+OF MADAME DE SÉVIGNE.
+
+EDITED BY MRS. SARAH J. HALE.
+
+1 Vol., 12mo. Price $1.25.
+
+This book is the first volume of a series, which we are publishing under
+the general title of the library of
+
+"STANDARD LETTER-WRITERS."
+
+It is a work which should be read and studied by all. As a
+letter-writer, Madame de Sévigne's name ranks among the highest of those
+who have become famous for the beauty and conciseness of their
+epistolary correspondence. Her letters are models of excellence, and
+should be consulted, both as a text-book, and as a work of profound
+interest to the general reader. There is scarcely a subject worthy of
+notice but what her racy pen has dwelt upon, in a manner which at once
+instructs and entertains.
+
+
+THE ELM-TREE TALES.
+
+BY F. IRENE BURGE SMITH.
+
+1 Vol. 12mo. Price $1.
+
+Seated beneath a huge elm tree, a merry group listened to the beautiful
+stories which had been written for them. They were so well received by
+her little audience that the authoress concluded to present them to the
+great public, under the above title. The book contains three deeply
+interesting stories, entitled respectively, "JENNY GRIG, THE STREET
+SWEEPER;" "NANNIE BATES, THE HUCKSTER'S DAUGHTER;" and "ARCHIBALD
+MACKIE, THE LITTLE CRIPPLE." Boys and girls will be delighted with it;
+and children of an older growth will find it a volume of deep interest.
+
+
+MR. HERBERT'S NEW WORK.
+
+WAGER OF BATTLE,
+
+A TALE OF SAXON SLAVERY IN SHERWOOD FOREST.
+
+BY HENRY W. HERBERT, ESQ.,
+
+Author of "Marmaduke Wyvil," "Henry VIII. and his Six Wives," etc., etc.
+
+1 Vol., 12mo. Price $1.
+
+"The story transports us back to the English forests, before the Norman
+and Saxon races had melted into one, and brings up a succession of
+domestic and rural pictures that are bright with the freshness of that
+primeval time. The present work is even richer in the elements of
+popular interest than Mr. Herbert's previous fictitious compositions,
+and will deservedly increase his reputation as a brilliant and vigorous
+novelist."--NEW YORK TRIBUNE.
+
+"'The Wager of Battle' is the best of Herbert's works."--_N. Y. Sunday
+Dispatch._
+
+"The story is one of intense interest."--_N. Y. Daily News._
+
+"The condition of the serf--the born thrall of that period, is
+accurately delineated, and the life, daily occupations, and language of
+the twelfth century placed vividly before the reader. There is no
+incident in the book that is tame and lifeless."--_N. Y. Picayune._
+
+"Herbert is the best living historical novelist."--_Cor. Boston
+Transcript._
+
+"It is a very beautiful tale--in its descriptive scenes, and in much of
+its coloring, reminding us more than once of Ivanhoe."--_Boston
+Traveler._
+
+"In this work, Mr. Herbert has bent his acknowledged genius to the
+agreeable task of creating a succession of highly attractive and
+interesting scenes, which completely transfer us, for the time, to the
+wild age to which they relate."--_Portland Eastern Argus._
+
+"This is an exceedingly able story, one which is sure to find favor with
+all classes of readers."--_Phila. Sunday Dispatch._
+
+"We like a good historical novel, and we know of no living writer better
+qualified to write one than Henry W. Herbert. In the present volume he
+gives a fresh, bold picture of Saxon serfdom in England before yet the
+two races of Norman and Saxon were mingled into one. The delineation of
+outward habits, and the customs of the time, are admirably done, and the
+story is one that can not fail to interest all who read it."--_Gospel
+Banner, Augusta._
+
+"A story of great interest * * * Written in an attractive style * * *
+Built upon a well-arranged plot * * * The best of Herbert's
+works."--_Dayton (O.) Empire._
+
+"Herbert is a pleasing, busy, instructive, successful novelist
+historian."--_Boston Christian Times._
+
+"It displays much dramatic skill and felicity of description, and
+accurately depicts the manners, customs, and institutions of the Saxons
+and the Normans, at the time of their fusion into the great English
+race."--_N. Y. Chronicle._
+
+"Mr. Herbert's style is clear and fine, and the plot of his story well
+constructed."--_State of Maine._
+
+"One of the best stories of the author."--_Cor. Boston Traveler._
+
+
+THE RAG-PICKER;
+
+OR,
+
+BOUND AND FREE.
+
+1 Vol., 12mo. 442 pp. Price $1.25.
+
+"This is a most stirring and pathetic story, illustrating the terrible
+power of human depravity on the one hand, and the importance of using
+the most efficient means to counteract it on the other. The author
+assures us that his statements are throughout nothing but sober verity;
+and that many of the persons whose character and experience are here
+described are still living in various parts of the United States. If
+this be really so (and we have no right to dispute the author's word),
+we can only say that they form the most remarkable group of personages
+which have ever come within our knowledge. It is a most intensely
+exciting book; but we do not perceive any thing that indicates
+ill-nature."--_Boston Puritan Recorder._
+
+"The tale is one of modern times and events; the characters and
+personages alluded to are those who have lived in the present century,
+here and elsewhere, and the story is a most exciting one, well and
+powerfully written."--_Boston Transcript._
+
+"The most original in its conception, the widest in its scope, the most
+interesting in its narrative, and the best in its execution. The
+characters are drawn from nature; we need no preface to tell us that,
+for they speak, think, and act to the life * * * The ups and downs of
+honest old Davy, the hero of the book, the true-hearted Rag-Picker, read
+us a homily on the fickleness of fortune, and furnish an example which
+the proudest aristocrat might do well to follow. We lay aside the volume
+with a sigh that there is no more of it."--_N. Y. Saturday Evening
+Courier._
+
+"We have read this book, which claims to be a 'record of facts' by an
+eye and ear-witness, with thrilling interest at a single
+sitting."--_Boston Liberator._
+
+"The book is well and powerfully written, and the story is a most
+exciting one."--_Portland Transcript._
+
+"The narrative is rapid and spirited."--_N. York Evening Post._
+
+"It is replete with incidents, its characters are natural and distinctly
+shown, and the interest of the narrative is well sustained."--_Boston
+Atlas._
+
+"A good, a useful, and a meritorious book, and one peculiarly fitted for
+family reading."--_N. Y. Sunday Times._
+
+"It is highly dramatic, and keeps the reader intensely interested to the
+end."--_Portland Daily Argus._
+
+"It is written with spirit and power."--_American Courier._
+
+"The narrative warmly enlists the sympathies of the reader, and to the
+end sustains the interest without flagging."--_Chicago Christian Times._
+
+"It is beautifully written, and will be widely circulated, as it richly
+deserves."--_Christian Chronicle, Phila._
+
+"A well-planned and highly interesting story."--_Fred. Douglass's
+Paper._
+
+"The story is one of decided literary merit, and unexceptionable moral
+tone; and is replete with life lessons drawn from life scenes."--_Boston
+Christian Freeman._
+
+"Well told, vivid and excellent in aim and tone."--_Cor. Boston
+Transcript._
+
+"It is written with distinguished ability."--_Boston Chronicle._
+
+"Is full of dramatic scenes of the most exciting kind."--_New York Life
+Illustrated._
+
+"A very readable volume."--_Dollar Newspaper._
+
+"It is full of vigor and dramatic power."--_New Bedford Mercury._
+
+"The author wields a vigorous pen."--_Glen Falls Republican._
+
+"No one will read it without a feeling of satisfaction."--_Oswego
+Palladium._
+
+"It may be deemed the protest of an energetic mind against the
+expression and lack of sympathy of one class toward
+another."--_Indianapolis Sentinel._
+
+"The story is, in truth, one of realities too sadly real, and, as such,
+impresses the reader with more profound sympathies for the unfortunate
+of our race."--_Dayton Gazette._
+
+"A most readable and interesting book."--_Pottsville Register._
+
+
+OLIE;
+
+OR, THE OLD WEST ROOM.
+
+The Weary at Work and the Weary at Rest.
+
+By L. M. M.
+
+1 Vol. 12mo., 456 pp. Price $1.25.
+
+"A simple, charming story."--_N. Y. Evening Mirror._
+
+"The author is master of that magic which transmutes fictitious
+characters into real personages."--_Philadelphia Eve. Argus._
+
+"Full of adventure, and very interesting."--_Boston Chronicle._
+
+"A narrative of rare interest."--_N. Y. Commercial._
+
+"A very charming story, delicate in its sentiment, and calculated to
+refine as well as please."--_Boston Traveler._
+
+"The last chapter, entitled 'The Weary at Rest,' is a specimen of not
+only real but sublime pathos."--_Boston Puritan Recorder._
+
+"Charmingly written, and truthful in portraiture."--_Dayton (O.)
+Gazette._
+
+"Calculated to make the reader wiser and better."--_Boston Uncle
+Samuel._
+
+"Its delineations of domestic life are perfect; its language poetic and
+eloquent."--_N. Y. Daybook._
+
+"The work abounds with beautiful passages."--_Portland Inquirer._
+
+"A home book for every family; an interesting fireside
+companion."--_Western New Yorker._
+
+"A work of extraordinary merit."--_Dutchess Democrat._
+
+"We can commend it with a freedom we do not always feel at liberty to
+use."--_N. York Evangelist._
+
+"Happily conceived, and well sketched."--_Phila. Christian Observer._
+
+"All shall be the better for the reading of 'Olie.'"--_American Index._
+
+"Abounds in incidents of a romantic character."--_Plymouth Memorial._
+
+"Written purely and lovingly."--_Hall's Journal of Health._
+
+"A rich tone of moral harmony runs all through its flower garden of
+sympathy and love."--_Peekskill Eagle._
+
+"It is written in a beautiful style, and in a loving tender
+spirit."--_New York Citizen._
+
+"Crowded with scenes of interest."--_Plow, Loom, and Anvil._
+
+"From page to page you are lured along until the end is
+reached."--_Masonic Review._
+
+"Sketched with a gentle and tender hand."--_N. Y. Presbyterian._
+
+"Awakens our interest and our sympathies."--_Life Illustrated._
+
+"A charming and chaste production."--_N. Y. Sunday Times._
+
+"Skillfully narrated."--_Boston Transcript._
+
+"Will find readers in every home."--_U. S. Mining Journal._
+
+"A fine production."--_Boonesboro' (Md.) Odd Fellow._
+
+"Attracts and delights the reader."--_Zion's Advocate._
+
+"A well written and interesting book."--_Utica Observer._
+
+"An entertaining book for the household."--_Boston Liberator._
+
+"Can not fail to interest the reader."--_N. Y. Tribune._
+
+"Well worthy of perusal."--_Clinton Sat. Courant._
+
+"We cordially recommend it to our readers."--_U. S. Review._
+
+"Those who were so delighted with 'The Lamplighter,' will be charmed
+with 'Olie.'"--_Peterson's Magazine._
+
+"Greatly superior to the mass of domestic novels."--_Delaware Gazette._
+
+"The dialogue is unaffected, the plot simple and natural, and there are
+dashes by turns of true pathos and sentiment."--_N. Y. Saturday
+Courier._
+
+
+CONE CUT CORNERS:
+
+The Experience of a Conservative Family in Fanatical Times; Including
+some Account of a Connecticut Village, the People who lived in it, and
+those who came there from the city.
+
+BY BENAULY.
+
+1 Vol. 12mo., 456 pp. Price $1.25. Elegantly Illustrated.
+
+"This is one of the most spirited and amusing satires on village gossip
+and city snobism which has fallen in our way for many a day."--_Boston
+Traveler._
+
+"It is written with the ease and energy of a practical hand."--_N. Y.
+Independent._
+
+"It is written with spirit."--_N. Y. Evening Post._
+
+"Its author wields a satirical and even caustic pen."--_Boston Atlas._
+
+"A series of humorous and well-aimed thrusts at the follies of the
+times."--_Phila. Sun. Mercury._
+
+"One of the best temperance stories ever written."--_Bridgeport (Conn.)
+Standard._
+
+"One of the best pictures of village life we ever read."--_Lancaster
+(Pa.) Examiner._
+
+"A regular Yankee story--a vein of humor running through the whole of
+it."--_Bridgeport (Conn) Farmer._
+
+"The writer, whoever he is, has original fun, humor, satire, and
+knowledge of human nature within him."--_Boston Post._
+
+"The book is written with a strong and vital pen."--_Boston Bee._
+
+"A very witty, very singular, and very well written novel."--_Phila.
+Bulletin._
+
+"Would do credit to a Dickens or a Thackeray."--_Boston Journal._
+
+"It is pervaded by a deep current of genuine wit and irony."--_Boston
+Puritan Recorder._
+
+"A readable and entertaining book."--_Cin. Columbian._
+
+"Brimming full of genuine humor and satire."--_Peekskill Eagle._
+
+"May be read with unabated interest and delight from beginning to
+end."--_St. Louis Republican._
+
+"It has real humor, sound satire, and a good moral."--_Nashua (N. H.)
+Oasis._
+
+"It is a capitally written book."--_Waterville Mail._
+
+"It abounds in vigorous portraiture."--_N. Y. Picayune._
+
+"It is a great book."--_Springfield (O.) Nonpareil._
+
+"The story is most admirably told."--_Rock Island Republican._
+
+"A rich and racy book."--_Woodstock (Vt.) Temperance Standard._
+
+"One of the most readable books of the day."--_Portland Transcript_ _and
+Eclectic._
+
+"It furnishes a rich home entertainment."--_Vt. Christian Messenger._
+
+"Written in a very racy style."--_Alton (Ill.) Courier._
+
+"Abounds with sound, moral judgment, mixed with wit, humor, and
+satire."--_Free American, North Adams._
+
+"It is remarkably unique, racy, humorous, pathetic, and has many graphic
+delineations and thrilling passages."--_Boston Liberator._
+
+"A singularly witty, satirical, and well written American
+romance."--_California Farmer._
+
+"Buy it, and read it by all means."--_Athens (Pa.) Gazette._
+
+"We can heartily commend it as a capitally written story."--_Milwaukie
+Sentinel._
+
+"A very natural, and extremely interesting story."--_N. Y. Dispatch._
+
+"A pleasant, agreeable, readable book."--_N. Y. Atlas._
+
+"It is a pleasant and deeply interesting volume."--_Utica (N. Y.)
+Observer._
+
+"Enchants with a magic spell that ever tempts us onward."--_Indianapolis
+Sentinel._
+
+"The style is sprightly and attractive."--_Syracuse Chronicle._
+
+"Written in a style of charming sprightliness."--_Springfield (Mass.)
+Republican._
+
+
+LIFE OF HORACE GREELEY,
+
+Editor of the New York Tribune.
+
+BY J. PARTON.
+
+Elegantly Illustrated. 1 Vol. 12mo., 442 pp. Price $1.25.
+
+"The career of the great editor from humble boyhood to proud
+pre-eminence among the master-minds of the country, is truthfully and
+fascinatingly told."--_Lafayette (Ind.) Journal._
+
+"It is an account of the life of a man of great energy of character, and
+of more than common variety of talent, who has taken a prominent part in
+the controversies and discussions of the day."--_N. Y. Evening Post._
+
+"His life is a 'living epistle,' proclaiming that virtuous endeavors and
+unselfish toil, sooner or later, will meet a fit recompense."--_N. Y.
+Christian Intelligencer._
+
+"The volume tells all about 'Horace,'--where he came from, his
+struggles, ambition, triumphs, etc. These are of great interest, and
+will be read with avidity."--_Boston Daily News._
+
+"A most graphic and entertaining account of the life of Mr. Greeley.
+* * * The most spicy and attractive biography of the day."--_Boston
+Journal._
+
+"It throws open the door of the work-shop, and exhibits industry, and
+thrift, and intelligence at their hard day's work, earning their daily
+bread, and laying down the stepping stones to all that the world esteems
+and admires."--_Utica Morning Herald._
+
+"There has been nothing like it since the life of Franklin: interesting
+throughout."--_Montpelier Watchman._
+
+"An interesting book--full of good to all."--_Bangor Mercury._
+
+"Full of interest and instruction."--_Belvidere Intelligencer._
+
+"Is of absorbing interest, and contains much of pleasant humor,
+sparkling wit, and attractive anecdote."--_Bangor Courier._
+
+"The life of a most extraordinary man."--_Amherst Gazette._
+
+"Let the book be read in every home in America."--_Hartford Republican._
+
+"We have read chapter after chapter of this work with unflagging
+interest."--_Rochester Daily American._
+
+"It is a volume for earnest men and boys to read and
+study."--_Springfield (Mass.) Republican._
+
+"A veritable biography of one of the most remarkable men of the
+time."--_Concord Independent Democrat._
+
+"The biography of one of the bravest, noblest, clearest-headed,
+largest-hearted, and most thoroughly self-made men in
+America."--_Bradford Inquirer._
+
+"Worthy of a place by the side of the life of Benjamin
+Franklin."--_Hartford Religious Herald._
+
+"We commend it to the study of young men."--_St. Louis (Mo.)
+Republican._
+
+"Written in a most graphic and entertaining style."--_Christian
+Freeman._
+
+"It is a useful book--a book that can not be read without
+profit."--_Trumpet & Magazine._
+
+"A faithful and full history of a man whom the public want to know all
+about."--_Ellensville Journal._
+
+"A volume of rare interest."--_Sandy Hill Herald._
+
+"As interesting as any novel--yet all true."--_Painesville Democrat._
+
+"The life of Horace Greeley is one for the youth of America to
+study."--_Phila. News._
+
+"Attractive, interesting and instructive."--_Rome Excelsior._
+
+"A book which should be in every household--should be read and pondered
+by the young and old."--_Phila. Merchant._
+
+"Abounds in racy anecdotes."--_Fond-du-Lac Herald._
+
+"As an incentive to youth in poverty to be honest, faithful, and
+persevering, apart from its personal interest, it should go into the
+hands of the young of America generally."--_Middletown Standard._
+
+
+RUTH HALL:
+
+A Domestic Tale of the Present Time.
+
+BY FANNY FERN.
+
+1 Vol. 12mo. pp. 400. Price $1.25.
+
+"Every chapter has the touch of genius in it."--_Worcester Palladium._
+
+"It is a thrilling life sketch, with passages of great power and
+pathos."--_Maysville Eagle._
+
+"Flashes of gayest humor alternate with bursts of deep pathos; so that
+the volume is relieved of all peril of monotony."--_N. Y. Tribune._
+
+"This is a remarkable book--a book to create a sensation."--_N. Y.
+Mirror._
+
+"Wherever the English language is read, Ruth Hall will be eagerly
+read."--_New York Picayune._
+
+"No one will fail to read the book through who reads the first
+chapter."--_N. Y. Sunday Courier._
+
+"Never did a tale abound in so many beautiful images."--_Philadelphia
+Mercury._
+
+"In point of interest it exceeds any work of fiction we have read for
+years."--_Eve. Journal._
+
+"Her words are red-hot, and her sentences seem to glow with the
+intensity of her feeling."--_Rutland Co. Herald._
+
+"The most lively and sparkling favorite writer of the present
+time."--_Burlington Gazette._
+
+"No one can fail to be interested in the narrative."--_Hallowell
+Gazette._
+
+"It is a powerful; remarkable book."--_Springfield Republican._
+
+"It is a book that will make a sobbing among mothers and
+widows."--_Poughkeepsie Eagle._
+
+"Read it, you can not fail to be the better of it."--_Pittsburg Family
+Journal._
+
+"Whoever takes it up will read it to the close without
+sleeping."--_Plattsburg Republican._
+
+"The interest never flags."--_Knick. Mag._
+
+"In 'Ruth Hall' there is pathos, humor, and satire."--_N. Y. Life
+Illustrated._
+
+"We have read it through with unabated interest."--_Ithaca Chronicle._
+
+"A real Heart Book, a household book."--_Schoharie Democrat._
+
+"It sparkles with brilliants."--_Hartford Christian Secretary._
+
+"A fresh racy volume."--_Hartford Union._
+
+"Abounding with the keenest satire, and flashes of wit."--_N. Y.
+Christian Ambassador._
+
+"Will rival the choicest productions of English genius."--_Columbus
+(Geo.) Times._
+
+"Is the most intensely interesting book that we have ever
+read."--_Ellensville Journal._
+
+"Every page glitters with some gem of intellect, some bright
+truth."--_Tiffin (O.) Tribune._
+
+"No novel has created such a sensation."--_N. O. Bulletin._
+
+"Genius is manifested in every page."--_N. Y. Merchants' Ledger._
+
+"Thousands will read and re-read 'Ruth Hall' with deep and intense
+interest."--_Doylestown Democrat._
+
+"It is the most condensed and thrillingly interesting book ever
+written."--_Easton (Md.) Star._
+
+"It is instinct with the highest genius."--_Philadelphia Sun._
+
+"Presents a vivid picture of the trials of literary life."--_N. Y. True
+American._
+
+"Its scenes are drawn with power, pathos, and naturalness."--_Buff. Eve.
+Post._
+
+"The book shows fact to be stranger than fiction."--_Rome Excelsior._
+
+"A real sketch of human life, amid clouds, storm and
+sunshine."--_Lawrence Sentinel._
+
+"All the characters are portraits--every body has seen their
+prototypes."--_Waterville Journal._
+
+"Never have we read a book so true to nature."--_Keystone City._
+
+"A live book; it is a tale of real life; the story is powerfully
+told."--_Burlington Hawk Eye._
+
+"Abounds with gems."--_Nashville Banner._
+
+"It is an evergreen, fresh as are all the emanations of mind, 'not born
+to die.'"--_Lockport Democrat._
+
+"A book of extraordinary interest."--_Monongahela Republican._
+
+
+DR. LOWELL MASON'S
+
+CHURCH MUSIC.
+
++THE HALLELUJAH.+ A book for the Service of Song in the House of the Lord,
+containing tunes, chants, and anthems, both for the choir and
+congregation; to which is prefixed the Singing School, a manual for
+classes in vocal music, with exercises, rounds, and part songs, for
+choir practice; also, Musical Notation in a Nut-shell; a brief course
+for singing-schools, intended for skillful teachers and apt pupils. By
+LOWELL MASON. $1. Do. cloth extra, $1 25.
+
+
+     The publication of this, Dr. Mason's last work, was looked for with
+     great interest by the musical public, as he had enjoyed peculiar
+     advantages, and bestowed extraordinary labor in its preparation. It
+     has not disappointed the expectations with regard to it. Thus far
+     it has proved the most successful work of its class ever published,
+     and it is believed that it will take its place by the side of
+     "Carmina Sacra," by the same author, as a standard work in its
+     department.
+
+
++CANTICA LAUDIS+; or, the American Book of Church Music; being chiefly a
+selection of chaste and elegant melodies from the most classic authors,
+ancient and modern, with harmony parts; together with anthems and other
+set pieces for choirs and singing-schools; to which are added tunes for
+congregational singing. By LOWELL MASON and GEORGE JAMES WEBB. $1.
+
++THE CARMINA SACRA+; or, Boston Collection of Church Music, comprising the
+most popular psalm and hymn tunes in general use, together with a great
+variety of new tunes, chants, sentences, motetts, and anthems,
+principally by distinguished European composers; the whole being one of
+the most complete collections of music for choirs, congregations,
+singing-schools, and societies extant. By LOWELL MASON. $1.
+
++NEW CARMINA SACRA+; or, Boston Collection of Church Music. This book is a
+careful and thorough revision of the favorite work heretofore published
+under the same title. The object has been to retain the most valuable
+and universally pleasing part of the former work as the basis of the
+new, omitting such portions as experience had proved to be the least
+serviceable and popular, and substituting choice tunes and pieces
+selected from the whole range of the author's previous works; appending,
+also, additional pages of entirely new and interesting music, from other
+sources. In its present form it undoubtedly comprises one of the best
+collections of sacred music ever published. $1.
+
+*** More than 400,000 copies of the "Carmina Sacra" have been sold.
+
++THE BOSTON ACADEMY'S COLLECTION OF CHURCH MUSIC.+ By LOWELL MASON.
+Published under direction of the Boston Academy of Music. $1.
+
++THE PSALTERY.+ A new Collection of Church Music. By LOWELL MASON and
+GEORGE J. WEBB. Published under the direction and with the sanction of
+the Boston Academy of Music, and of the Boston Handel and Haydn Society.
+$1.
+
++THE NATIONAL PSALMIST.+ A collection of the most popular and useful Psalm
+and Hymn tunes, together with a great variety of new tunes, anthems,
+sentences, and chants--forming a most complete manual of church music
+for choirs, congregations, singing-classes, and musical associations. By
+LOWELL MASON and G. J. WEBB. $1.
+
++THE CONGREGATIONAL TUNE BOOK.+ A collection of popular and approved
+tunes, suitable for congregational use. By LOWELL MASON and G. J. WEBB.
+30 cents.
+
++BOOK OF CHANTS.+ Consisting of selections from the Scriptures, adapted to
+appropriate music, and arranged for chanting, designed for
+congregational use in public or social worship. By LOWELL MASON. 12mo,
+cloth. 75 cents.
+
++THE BOSTON ANTHEM BOOK.+ Being a selection of Anthems and other pieces.
+By LOWELL MASON. $1 25.
+
++THE BOSTON CHORUS BOOK.+ Enlarged; consisting of a new selection of
+popular choruses, from the works of Handel, Haydn, and other eminent
+composers, arranged in full Vocal score, with an accompaniment for the
+Organ or Piano Forte. Compiled by LOWELL MASON and G. J. WEBB. 75 cents.
+
+
+CHURCH MUSIC.
+
++THE SHAWM.+ A Library of Church Music, embracing about one thousand
+pieces, consisting of psalm and hymn tunes, adapted to every meter in
+use; anthems, chants, and set pieces; to which is added an original
+cantata, entitled "Daniel; or, the Captivity and Restoration;" including
+also the "Singing Class," an entirely new and practical arrangement of
+the elements of music, interspersed with social part songs for practice.
+By WM. B. BRADBURY and G. F. ROOT, assisted by THOMAS HASTINGS and T. B.
+MASON. $1.
+
++THE NATIONAL LYRE.+ A collection of Psalm and Hymn tunes, with a
+selection of chants, anthems, etc. Designed for the use of all choirs,
+congregations, singing-schools, and societies throughout the United
+States. Compiled and arranged by S. P. TUCKERMAN, S. A. BANCROFT, and H.
+K. OLIVER. 75 cents.
+
++TEMPLE MELODIES.+ A collection of about two hundred popular tunes,
+adapted to nearly five hundred favorite hymns, selected with special
+reference to public, social, and private worship. By DARIUS E. JONES.
+12mo. cloth, 62 ½ cents. 12mo, roan, gilt, 75 cents. 12mo, cloth, full
+gilt sides and edges, $1. 8vo, cloth, 87 ½ cents. 8vo, roan, gilt, $1.
+8vo, Turkey morocco, extra gilt (pulpit copies), $3.
+
+The different editions correspond exactly in all their contents, being
+_page for page the same_, varying only in the size of type and style of
+binding. This work has been extensively introduced into churches of
+various denominations, in different parts of the country, and has, we
+believe, given universal satisfaction in all cases. It is believed that
+it contains a very much larger number of really favorite and useful
+hymns and tunes than any other book.
+
++PLAIN MUSIC FOR THE BOOK OF COMMON PRAYER.+ A complete collection of
+sacred music, for the worship of the Protestant Episcopal Church,
+designed especially for congregational use. Edited by Rev. G. T. RIDER,
+A.M. 50 cents.
+
+This work has been carefully prepared to meet a long felt want, namely,
+of a book of chants and tunes for congregational use, that should
+contain, in convenient order and form, and attractive style, and at the
+same time at a reasonable price, all the music required for the use of
+the people.
+
++THE LIBER MUSICUS+; or, New York Anthem Book and Choir Miscellany,
+comprising anthems, choruses, quartetts, trios, duets, songs, etc. It
+includes pieces for the festivals of Christmas, Thanksgiving, and
+Easter, commencement and close of the year, dedications and
+installations, for funerals and fasts, etc., etc. Most of the pieces are
+new, and while their simple melody and ease of performance peculiarly
+adapt them to the wants of smaller choirs, they are also all the largest
+can require. $1.
+
++THE CHOIR CHORUS BOOK.+ A collection of choruses from the works of the
+most distinguished composers. Compiled, adapted to English words, and
+arranged with particular reference to choir practice, and for the use of
+musical societies, by A. N. JOHNSON. In the large and varied collection
+which this book contains, five of the choruses are by Handel, thirteen
+by Haydn, seventeen by Mozart, six by Mendelssohn, and the remainder by
+Cherubini, Neukomm, Zingarelli, Romberg, Webbe, Naumann, Spohr, King,
+Steymann, etc. $1.
+
++CHORUSES OF HANDEL'S MESSIAH.+ Complete vocal parts, forming No. 1 of the
+"Oratorio Chorus Book." This is the first of a series, the design of
+which is to furnish, in a compact and very cheap form, the choruses of
+the great oratorios, so that this standard music may be brought within
+reach of all. 50 cents.
+
++THE PILGRIM FATHERS.+ A Cantata in two parts. Composed by GEORGE F. ROOT,
+assisted in the preparation of the words by Miss FRANCES J. CROSBY, the
+blind poetess. Paper, 25 cents.
+
+This cantata was originally prepared for the pages of the "Hallelujah,"
+and is now published as a supplement to that work.
+
+
+GLEE BOOKS.
+
++THE NEW YORK GLEE AND CHORUS BOOK.+ A collection of new and admired glees
+and choruses, for singing-schools, choir practice, Musical conventions,
+and the social circle. By WM. B. BRADBURY and LOWELL MASON. (In press.)
+$1.
+
++THE NEW ODEON.+ A collection of Secular Melodies, arranged and harmonized
+in four parts. By LOWELL MASON and G. J. WEBB. $1.
+
+A revised edition of the most popular collection of secular music ever
+published in America, but which has for some time been out of the
+market. New Elements of Music have been prepared for it, and the places
+of such pieces as proved least attractive in former editions are
+occupied by arrangements of popular melodies, especially prepared for
+this new edition. It is the largest collection of secular music
+published.
+
++THE GLEE HIVE.+ A collection of glees and part songs. By LOWELL MASON and
+G. J. WEBB. Revised and enlarged edition. 50 cents.
+
+In the revised edition a few of the heavier and more difficult pieces
+have been laid aside, and their place, and a number of additional pages,
+are filled by lighter and more pleasing compositions.
+
++THE VOCALIST.+ Consisting of short and easy glees, or songs, arranged for
+soprano, alto, tenor, and bass voices. By L. MASON and G. J. WEBB,
+Professors in the Boston Academy of Music. $1.
+
++THE BOSTON GLEE BOOK.+ By LOWELL MASON and GEO. J. WEBB. Containing the
+choicest of the Standard English Glees. This work has been most admired
+of any similar publication, and has retained its popularity unabated. $1
+25.
+
++TWENTY-ONE MADRIGALS.+ Selected mostly from old and distinguished
+composers. By L. MASON and G. J. WEBB. 50 cents.
+
++THE MELODIST.+ A collection of glees and part songs. By G. J. WEBB and
+WM. MASON. $1.
+
++THE SOCIAL GLEE BOOK.+ A collection of classic glees, mostly from the
+German. By WM. MASON and SILAS A. BANCROFT. For skillful singers who are
+able to sing music of some difficulty with taste, this book is a
+treasure. It is filled with gems of the first water, which will not lose
+their luster by once wearing. The more these gems are sung, the better
+they will be liked. New edition. Price reduced to $1.
+
++FIRESIDE HARMONY.+ A collection of glees and part songs. By WM. MASON.
+$1.
+
+
+FOR MEN'S VOICES.
+
++THE YOUNG MEN'S SINGING BOOK.+ A collection of music for male voices,
+intended for use in Colleges, Theological Seminaries, and the social
+circle, consists of, Part I.--The Singing School. II.--Glees and part
+Songs. III.--Choir Tunes. IV.--Congregational Tunes. V.--Anthems,
+Chants, etc. By GEORGE F. ROOT, assisted by L. MASON. $1.
+
++THE GENTLEMEN'S GLEE BOOK.+ A selection of glees for men's voices, from
+the most admired German composers. By L. MASON. This is the only work of
+the kind published in this country. It contains a very choice selection
+of the very best of the German glees for men's voices. $1.
+
+
+JUVENILE MUSIC.
+
++BRADBURY'S YOUNG SHAWM.+ A collection of School Music. By W. B. BRADBURY.
+The features of this new book are, 1st, a brief elementary course, in
+which tunes and songs in the body of the work are referred to, instead
+of mere "exercises," printed in the elementary department; 2d, Musical
+Notation in a Nutshell; or, Things to be taught; furnishing to the
+teacher a synopsis of such subjects as he will need to introduce from
+lesson to lesson; 3d, a great variety of new juvenile music. 38 cents.
+
++THE SONG BOOK OF THE SCHOOL ROOM.+ Consisting of a great variety of
+songs, hymns, and Scriptural selections, with appropriate music.
+Containing, also, the Elementary Principles of Vocal Music according to
+the Inductive Method. Designed to be a complete Music Manual for Common
+or Grammar Schools. By LOWELL MASON and G. J. WEBB. 38 cents.
+
++THE PRIMARY SCHOOL SONG BOOK.+ In two parts; the first part consisting of
+songs suitable for Primary Juvenile Singing Schools, and the second part
+consisting of an Explanation of the Inductive or Pestalozzian Method of
+teaching Music to such schools. By LOWELL MASON and GEORGE JAMES WEBB.
+18 cents.
+
++THE BOSTON SCHOOL SONG BOOK.+ Sanctioned by the Boston Academy of Music.
+Original and Selected. By LOWELL MASON. 30 cents.
+
++LITTLE SONGS FOR LITTLE SINGERS.+ For the youngest classes, the nursery,
+etc. By LOWELL MASON. 18 cents.
+
++WILDER'S MUSICAL ELEMENTARY.+ An improved text-book in the first
+principles of Singing by Note, with a variety of recreative school
+music. A new and revised edition of this popular work, to which are
+added many new pieces. By LEVI WILDER, Teacher of Music in Brooklyn
+Public Schools, etc., etc. 38 cents.
+
++WILDER'S SCHOOL MUSIC.+ A collection of pleasing pieces for schools and
+juvenile classes. By L. WILDER, Teacher of Music in Brooklyn Public
+Schools. 18 cents.
+
++HASTINGS'S SABBATH SCHOOL SONGS.+ A collection of many original tunes and
+hymns for Sabbath schools. By THOMAS HASTINGS. 18 cents.
+
++JUVENILE ORATORIOS+; the Festival of the Rose, Indian Summer, and the
+Children of Jerusalem; designed for Floral and other Concerts, Singing
+and Common Schools, etc. By J. C. JOHNSON, originator of the Floral
+Concerts in Boston. The Oratorios are arranged to be sung entire or in
+parts, to suit the taste and occasion. 30 cents.
+
++THE TEMPLE OF INDUSTRY.+ A juvenile Oratorio. By J. C. JOHNSON, author of
+Juvenile Oratorios. 30 cents.
+
+
+MUSICAL WORKS FOR ACADEMIES AND SEMINARIES.
+
++THE MUSICAL ALBUM.+ A Vocal Class Book for Female Seminaries, Academies,
+and High Schools. By GEO. F. ROOT. The demand for new music in female
+seminaries, academies, etc., and especially from those who have used the
+"Academy Vocalist," has led to the preparation and publication of this
+work. The elementary instruction, exercises, solfeggios, and rounds,
+together with the anthems, etc., are taken by permission from Mr.
+Mason's popular work, "The Hallelujah." 63 cents.
+
++THE ACADEMY VOCALIST.+ A collection of Vocal Music, arranged for the use
+of Seminaries, High Schools, Singing Classes, etc. By GEO. F. ROOT,
+Professor of Music in Abbott's Collegiate Institution, Spingler
+Institute, Rutger's Institute, etc. Including a complete course of
+elementary instruction, vocal exercises, and solfeggios. By L. MASON.
+"The Academy Vocalist" is the standard text-book of a large portion of
+the most esteemed academies, seminaries, high schools, etc., in the
+land, and has already passed through ten editions, which proves it a
+most acceptable work. 63 cents.
+
++THE FLOWER QUEEN+; or, the Coronation of the Rose. A cantata in two
+parts. Words by Miss F. J. CROSBY, a graduate of the New York
+Institution for the Blind. Music by G. F. ROOT, editor of "Academy
+Vocalist," "The Shawm," etc. 50 cts.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Rose Clark, by Fanny Fern
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 41542 ***