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diff --git a/old/69714-0.txt b/old/69714-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index bd8dc90..0000000 --- a/old/69714-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,13563 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The discarded daughter, by Emma -Dorothy Eliza Nevitte Southworth - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The discarded daughter - Or the children of the isle - -Author: Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte Southworth - -Release Date: January 5, 2023 [eBook #69714] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed Proofreading - Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from - images generously made available by The Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DISCARDED DAUGHTER *** - - - - - - THE DISCARDED DAUGHTER - OR - The Children of the Isle - - - BY - - MRS. E. D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH - - Author of “Ishmael,” “The Hidden Hand,” “The Bride’s Fate,” “The Changed - Brides,” etc. - -[Illustration] - - GROSSET & DUNLAP - PUBLISHERS: NEW YORK - - - - - CONTENTS. - - - CHAPTER PAGE - INTRODUCTORY—ST. CLARA’S ISLE, v - I. MOUNT CALM, 1 - II. THE NEW SUITOR, 3 - III. THE FATHER’S TYRANNY, 7 - IV. THE SUBJECTION OF ALICE, 12 - V. THE HUSBAND’S AUTHORITY, 14 - VI. COUNTRY NEIGHBORS, 16 - VII. HUTTON OF THE ISLES, 20 - VIII. THE BRIDE OF THE ISLES, 24 - IX. HUTTON LODGE, 28 - X. THE PATIENCE OF ALICE, 33 - XI. ALICE’S VISIT TO HUTTON ISLE, 41 - XII. CHILD OF THE WRECK, 45 - XIII. THE DESOLATE HOUSE, 51 - XIV. VANISHING OF AGNES, 55 - XV. THE ELFIN GIRL, 59 - XVI. ELSIE, 66 - XVII. THE BALL—THE UNEXPECTED GUEST, 75 - XVIII. THE NEW-FOUND HEIR, 83 - XIX. THE DEVOTION OF LOVE, 86 - XX. ELSIE IN THE ATTIC, 97 - XXI. CRUELTY—A CHAMBER SCENE, 103 - XXII. MARRIAGE, 108 - XXIII. THE HEART OVERTASKED, 118 - XXIV. THE WIFE’S TRUST, 128 - XXV. LIFE’S STORM AND SOUL’S SHELTER, 133 - XXVI. DAY AFTER THE WEDDING, 143 - XXVII. DEEP DELL—COUNTRY TAVERN, 150 - XXVIII. THE VAULT, 155 - XXIX. THE CHILDREN OF THE ISLE, 168 - XXX. THE NIGHT VISIT, 172 - XXXI. NETTIE IN THE MANSION, 180 - XXXII. THE INTERVIEW, 187 - XXXIII. ELSIE IN THE LOG CABIN, 198 - XXXIV. WHAT CAME NEXT, 207 - XXXV. THE FLIGHT OF TIME, 217 - XXXVI. LIGHT ON THE ISLAND, 227 - XXXVII. THE BEEHIVE, 242 - XXXVIII. HUGH AND GARNET, 256 - XXXIX. THE STRUGGLE OF LOVE AND AMBITION, 267 - XL. ELSIE’S FORTUNES, 282 - XLI. THE SECRET REVEALED, 291 - - - - - INTRODUCTORY. - ST. CLARA’S ISLE. - - The Island lies nine leagues away. - Along its solitary shore - Of craggy rock and sandy bay, - No sound but ocean’s roar, - Save where the bold, wild sea-bird makes her home, - Her shrill cry coming through the sparkling foam. - _—R. H. Dana._ - - -The scenes of our story lie along the Western shore of Maryland, near -the mouth of the Potomac River, and among the islets of the Chesapeake -Bay. - -Nothing can be more beautiful, grand, and inspiring than the scenery of -this region. - -The great Potomac, a mighty and invincible monarch of rivers, even from -her first stormy conquest, in which she rent apart the everlasting -mountains, and forced herself a passage to the sea—widens and broadens -her channel, extending the area of her empire continually as she goes on -her irresistible way in a vast, calm, majestic flow of waters to the -ocean. - -At the mouth of the river on the north, or Maryland side, is Point -Lookout; on the south, or Virginia side, is Smith’s Point, with an -expanse of water twenty miles in width between them. - -The shore on the Maryland side is broken by the most beautiful creeks -and inlets, and dotted by the most beautiful islets that imagination can -depict—creeks whose crystal-clear waters reflect every undulating hill -and vale, every shadowy tree and bright flower lying upon their banks, -and every soft and dark, or sun-gilded and glorious cloud floating in -the skies above their bosoms; islets whose dewy, fresh and green -luxuriance of vegetation, darksome trees and profound solitude, tempt -one into poetic dreams of an ideal hermitage. The beauty and interest of -this shore is enhanced by the occasional glimpses of rural -homes—magnificent, or simply picturesque—seen indistinctly through the -trees, at the head of some creek, on the summit of some distant hill, or -in the shades of some thick grove. - -Nothing can surpass the pleasure of the opposite but delightfully -blended emotions inspired by this scene. - -On the one hand the near shore, with its inlets and islands, its sunny -hills and shadowy dells, its old forests, its cornfields, and its sweet, -sequestered homes, yields that dear sense of safety and repose which the -most adventurous never like to lose entirely. - -On the other hand, looking out to the sea, the broad expanse of waters, -the free and unobstructed pathway to all parts of the world, fills and -dilates the heart with an exultant sense of boundless freedom! - -I said that the islets of the Potomac were fertile, verdant, and -luxurious in vegetation. This is because their sandy soil is mixed -freely with clay and marl; because it is enriched with the deposits of -the vast flocks of water-fowl that hover upon them for safe repose; and -finally, because, unlike the worn-out lands of the peninsula, the soil -is a virgin one, where for ages vegetation has budded, bloomed, and -decayed, and returned to the earth to fertilize it. (And here let me be -pardoned for saying that it is a matter of surprise to me that the -attention of enterprising men has never been turned to these islands as -a source of agricultural wealth; for, besides the rich fertility of the -soil, the salubrity of the air, and the beauty and grandeur of the land -and water scenery, these islands are rich in shoals of fish, crabs, and -oysters, and in vast flocks of water-fowl. But we ever overlook and -leave the near to seek the far-off goal.) - -Beyond the mouth of the river, however, and up the coast of the bay, the -islands are sandy and poor—nearly unproductive, or entirely barren. - -Anyone who will turn to the map of Maryland will see that the Chesapeake -Bay is interspersed with numerous islands of all sizes, from the -largest—Kent Island—to the smallest, nameless sand bank; that the -eastern and western shores of Maryland are beautifully diversified with -every modification of land and water scenery; that the inlets and -islands of the coast form the most charming features of the landscape. - - * * * * * - -Some distance above Point Lookout, at the mouth of the Potomac River, up -the western shore of Maryland, there is a beautiful inlet, or small bay, -making up about three miles into the land, called St. Clara’s Bay by one -of the early Roman Catholic settlers. At the headwaters of this inlet is -a small, very old hamlet, the site of one of the first settlements of -the State, intended once, no doubt, for a great colonial seaport, and -christened by the same sponsor St. Clarasville. With its fine harbor and -great commercial facilities, whatever could have arrested its growth and -withered it in its prime I do not know—possibly the very abundance of -other good harbors on the coast—probably the frequent and violent -dissensions between the pre-emption freebooters of the Bay Isles and the -legal proprietors and settlers of the mainland. Lying two miles off the -mouth of this inlet, and stretching across in front of it, is an oblong, -sandy, and nearly barren island—rich, however, in fish, crabs, oysters, -and water-fowl, and upon this account a great resort in early colonial -times, and baptized by the same devout claimant of the bay and town St. -Clara’s Isle, in honor of his patron saint. - -But there was another claimant of the island, inlet, and township; a -freebooter, who, believing in and acknowledging no greater personage -than himself, had named the isle, the bay, and town also, when it was -laid out, after himself. So they were first and most frequently called -Hutton’s Island, Bay, and Town. - - - - - THE DISCARDED DAUGHTER - - - - - CHAPTER I. - MOUNT CALM. - - A proud, aristocratic hall it seems, - Not courting, but discouraging approach. - _—Moultrie._ - - -Let me introduce you to Mount Calm, the seat of General Aaron Garnet. -Even from the bay you can see the mansion house, with its broad white -front, as it crowns the highest of a distant range of hills. After -passing through the village of Hutton, and going up and down the grassy -hills that rise one above the other beyond it, you enter a deep hollow, -thickly grown with woods, and passing through it, begin to ascend by a -heavily shaded forest road, the last and highest hill of the range—Mount -Calm. When about halfway up this hill you come to the brick walls -inclosing the private grounds, and passing through the porter’s gate you -enter a heavily-shaded carriage drive, that, sweeping around in an -ascending half-circle, brings you up before the mansion house. - -Behind the house was a green slope and a thick grove that concealed from -view the extensive outbuildings connected with the establishment. -Extensive fields of corn, wheat, rye, oats, tobacco, etc., spread all -over the undulatory land. The estate itself comprised several thousands -of the best acres in old St. Mary’s County, and there were several -hundred of them under the best cultivation and in the richest state of -productiveness. - -This princely estate had remained in the possession of the Chesters -since the first settlement of the county, and unlike the usual fate of -old Maryland plantations, the property had not only been carefully -preserved, but had steadily increased in value up to the time of the -Revolution, when it had reached its highest importance. - -The estate was then in the hands of Charles Chester, Esq., Justice of -the Peace and Associate Judge of the Provincial Court. His family -consisted of a wife, two sons, and a daughter. - -At the breaking out of the Revolution Judge Chester and his two stalwart -boys took the field among the first, and at the triumphant close of the -war Colonel Chester set out on his return home with a pair of -epaulettes, minus his pair of goodly sons, who were left not only dead -upon the field of glory, but buried with all the honors of victorious -war upon the immortal plains of Yorktown. And thus it happened that the -heirship of the heavy estate, with all its burden of onerous -responsibilities, fell upon the frail shoulders of young Alice Chester—a -fair-skinned, golden-haired, blue-eyed girl of seventeen, the fairest, -gentlest, and most fragile being that ever owed life to a stern and -warlike sire. Alice, living at home with her simple-hearted, domestic -mother, had been very little noticed by her father, or even by anyone -else, until, by the death of his sons, she became the sole heiress of -the vast estate, which was to prove the greatest misfortune of her life. - -The long, long bleak winters were passed in almost inviolable seclusion, -cheered only by an occasional letter from the army, and an occasional -ride to church, if the road happened to be passable, which was seldom -the case. - -This life lasted until Alice was fifteen years of age, when an event -occurred such as would make no stir at all in a city, but which will -throw a quiet country neighborhood into convulsions, namely, a change of -ministry—not national, but parochial! The old parson, compelled by -declining health, had departed to take charge of a congregation farther -south, and a young parson had come in his stead. The Rev. Milton -Sinclair was handsome, graceful, and accomplished. - -By the invitation of Mrs. Chester the young minister became the -temporary inmate of Mount Calm, and very much he entertained and -instructed, cheered and sustained the secluded mother and daughter. He -became the almoner of the lady to the poor around. He directed and -superintended the reading of Alice; introducing gradually, as her -opening mind could bear, all the beauties and glories of science, -history, philosophy, and poetry. - -As the days fled, Alice and Milton Sinclair grew to love each other, and -one day the minister told his great love and was made happy by Alice -confessing that she returned his affection. Mrs. Chester, too, approved -of the match, and she set her maids to work carding, spinning, knitting, -weaving, and sewing, that Alice might have a full supply of every -description of household cloth and linen. The bride’s trousseau was the -last thing thought of, and there was time enough, she thought, for that -when her father should arrive. She did not know when that would be, but -it was well to have everything that took a great deal of time and labor, -such as the house and furniture and the household stuff, ready—as for -the wedding dresses and other minor preparations, of course they must be -deferred until Colonel Chester’s arrival, and then they could be -speedily got up. - -It was in the midst of this domestic happiness, this great tense joy and -hope, that the thunderbolt fell! - - - - - CHAPTER II. - THE NEW SUITOR. - - How! Will she none? Doth she not give us thanks? - Is she not proud? Doth she not count her blessed, - Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought - So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom? - _—Shakspere._ - - -First came the news of the glorious victory of Yorktown—the final and -signal triumph of the American arms. There were no railroads and -telegraphic wires in those days, and very few newspapers. The report, -the re-echo of this splendid victory, rolled on toward their quiet -neighborhood like a storm; in clouds of doubt, in thunder and lightning -of astonishment, joy, and mad triumph. The most delirious rejoicing -convulsed the whole village and neighborhood for days, before any -newspaper arrived with an account of the battle. - -And the same mail that brought the newspaper, with a long account of the -battle, headed in great capital letters line below line, brought also a -letter sealed with black that sped like a bullet through the foreboding -heart of Mrs. Chester, a letter from Colonel Chester, announcing the -glorious death of his two brave sons upon the field of victory. - -Mrs. Chester was overwhelmed with grief by the twofold bereavement, the -fall of both her gallant sons, of whom she was as proud as fond. - -She did not dream of the calamity, worse than death, that had befallen -Alice, in the disguise of a princely inheritance, destined to darken her -whole life with sorrow, while it mocked her in the face of the world -with its unreal light and splendor. - -But there was one who was not so forgetful—Colonel Chester. He was still -with the army, but another letter was received from him, announcing his -speedy return home, accompanied by his friend and companion in arms, -General Garnet, a young officer, who, though but thirty years of age, -had risen to the highest rank in the army, and won an immortal fame. - -Colonel Chester came at length, accompanied by General Garnet. He met -Alice with great empressement—for it was scarcely great -affection—praised her growth and her beauty, introduced General Garnet, -and, excusing himself for a few moments, passed to the sick-chamber of -his wife. - -Left alone with her guest Alice examined him shyly, with the curiosity -of a woman and the bashfulness of a country girl. General Garnet was -what young ladies call a fine, military-looking man. He certainly had a -fine, martial figure and bearing, or that which is our ideal of it—a -tall and elegantly proportioned figure, a calm, majestic carriage, yet -withal suggestive of great reposing strength and fire. His voice was -perfect harmony itself. His manner was dignified and imposing, or -graceful, earnest, and seductive. Yet, sometimes, one in a sudden, vague -astonishment, would feel that he was a man who could unite the utmost -inflexibility, and even cruelty of purpose, with the most graceful and -gracious urbanity of manner. With all his marvelous powers of -fascination he was a man to darken, chill, repel a bright-spirited, -warm-souled, pure-hearted girl like Alice. Yet she did the honors of her -father’s house to her father’s guest until that guest merged into the -lover, and then Alice felt and betrayed the utmost soul-sickened -repugnance to him and his suit. - -It was now that the object of Colonel Chester in inviting this -distinguished visitor to Mount Calm became evident—that of bestowing the -hand of his daughter and heiress upon him. - -After a conversation with General Garnet he sent for Alice, and, without -any preface at all, bade her make up her mind to a speedy marriage with -the husband he had chosen for her, his distinguished and dear friend, -General Garnet. - -Alice passed from the room, mechanically pressing her hands to her -temples, trying to awake as from a heart-sickening dream. And so she -passed to her now frequent post of duty, her declining mother’s darkened -room and sick-bed. The senses, or the intuitions, or the instincts of -those on the confines of the unseen world are sometimes preternaturally -acute. There was that in the falling footstep, in the very form and -bearing, of Alice, as she glided through the shadows of that dark room, -that revealed to the mother the existence of some heavy cloud teeming -with sorrow, that was ready to burst upon the devoted head of her child. - -She called Alice to her bedside, took her hand in her gentle grasp, -looked with wondering sadness into her eyes—her eyes set in the stare of -blank stupor—and murmured tenderly: - -“What is the matter, Alice? Tell your mother?” - -Her mother’s loving voice and touch unsealed the spellbound founts of -tears and speech. - -“Oh, mother! mother! I am ruined! ruined!” she wildly gasped, and, -sinking down upon the floor, dropped her head upon the bed with -hysterical sobs and gasps, and inarticulate wailings. - -Her mother laid her gentle hand upon her child’s burning and throbbing -head, and raised her tender eyes in silent prayer for her, while this -storm raged, and until it passed, and Alice, exhausted, but calm, was -able to rise, sit by her side, and while she held her hand, tell her -what had happened. - -“I will speak to him, Alice,” she then said. “I will tell him how you -and Sinclair love each other—as you could not tell him, my child. I will -show him how vain—oh, how vain! are wealth, and rank, and honor, and -glory, in the hour of grief, by the bed of death, in the presence of -God! how love, and truth, and faith are all in all! Yes! and I will make -him feel it, too. And, though he should not realize it as I do, yet he -will never refuse me a request now!” - -And the next morning, directly after breakfast, Colonel Chester received -a message from his wife, requesting him to come to her room for a few -minutes, if convenient, as she wished to speak with him. - -Colonel Chester went. What passed at that interview no one knew more -than what might be guessed from what followed. - -Colonel Chester came out of the room, banging the door after him, with a -half-uttered imprecation upon “sickly fancies,” “irritable nerves,” and -“foolish women.” But immediately after this interview Mrs. Chester -became much worse; her fever rose to delirium, and she was alarmingly -ill for several days. Milton Sinclair heard of her state, and, little -suspecting the cause, came to see her. He was met by Colonel Chester, -who informed him that his wife was too ill to receive even her pastor, -and requested him to walk into the library. There Colonel Chester -informed him that circumstances had occurred which made it his painful -duty to beg that Mr. Sinclair would temporarily suspend his visits to -Mount Calm. - -“Alice!” exclaimed the young man. That name contained everything, and -rendered a full explanation indispensable. It was given. - -Deadly pale, Sinclair walked up and down the floor, pressing his head -tightly between his two palms and groaning—groaning the name, the -prayer, that in the bitterest agony of the soul starts to every lip: - -“My God! oh, my God! have pity on me! God have mercy on me!” - -The heart-broken tone of these words touched even that hard man of the -world, Colonel Chester. - -“Come, come, Sinclair; you must have been prepared for this for some -months past. I did not violently and at once separate you from Alice -when I first came home, although you must have known that all our plans -were changed. I gave you time to wean yourself gradually off. In other -circumstances, indeed, I should have felt myself most honored, most -happy in the alliance; but we do not control our own destinies. -Good-day, Sinclair. You will forget Alice.” - - - - - CHAPTER III. - THE FATHER’S TYRANNY. - - An thou be mine, I’ll give thee to my friend! - An thou be not, hang, beg, starve, die i’ the streets, - Nor what is mine shall ever do thee good, - Trust to it, bethink you! I’ll not be forsworn! - _—Shakspere._ - -Sinclair! Sinclair! Where in the world was he? Where had he been so many -days? Why did he not come? Alice could have given the world to have seen -him. - -She did not know that he had been forbidden the house. She was totally -ignorant of everything that had passed between her father and himself. -She walked wildly about the house and grounds, instinctively avoiding -her feeble mother’s room, lest in her present distracted state she -should kill her with agitation; afraid of meeting her father, and doubly -afraid of encountering General Garnet, and wishing and praying—oh! -praying, as if for dear life, that she might meet Sinclair. - -One afternoon she wrote a wild letter to him, illegible and -unintelligible every way except in this—that he must “come to Mount Calm -immediately.” She sent the letter off, and walked up and down her -chamber, trying to get calm enough to go and see her mother. While thus -employed a message reached her from her mother, desiring her to come to -her room. Alice went immediately. As she entered the dark chamber Mrs. -Chester called her up to the side of her bed; she saw that her mother’s -countenance had changed fearfully since the morning, and now a new -terror and remorse seized her heart; she was about to speak, when Mrs. -Chester said: - -“Alice, you look frightfully pale and haggard, my dear child. Alice, we -were foiled this morning. Your father has been here, and told me all -about it—the projected marriage in a week, and all; but do not fear, my -dear child, you shall not be sacrificed; it is not right. I have sent a -message to Mr. Sinclair to come here this evening. He has not been here -for some time, and when he comes I must have a talk with him.” - -At this moment a servant entered the chamber, to whom Mrs. Chester -turned, saying: - -“Milly, mix a teaspoonful of ether with a little water, and hand it to -Miss Alice. She is not well. You must take it, Alice, dear; you are -really very ill, and it will compose your nerves.” - -“Mr. Sinclair is downstairs, madam, and wants to know if he may come -up,” said the girl, as she handed the glass to Alice. - -Alice dropped the glass, untasted. - -“Where is General Garnet?” said Mrs. Chester. - -“In the library, writing, madam.” - -“Where is Colonel Chester?” - -“Gone out riding, madam.” - -“Thank Heaven! Yes, request Mr. Sinclair to come up, Milly.” - -After the departure of the girl the mother and daughter remained in -silent expectation. At last the light, quick footstep of Sinclair was -heard upon the stairs. - -“Go and meet him, Alice, my darling,” said the mother, with a smile. - -Alice arose, and as he opened the door and advanced into the room, -started forward and threw herself weeping into his arms. What could he -do but press her to his bosom? Then he led her back to her mother’s -bedside—stooped over the sick lady, taking her hand, and inquiring -tenderly, respectfully, after her health of body and soul. While she was -making her gentle, patient reply, the attention of all three was -arrested by the noise of heavy, hurried footsteps hastening up the -stairs. - -“It is your father, Alice! Oh, God, save us!” exclaimed Mrs. Chester, -just as Colonel Chester, with one violent kick of his boot, burst open -the door, and, purple and convulsed with rage, stood among them. - -“Who admitted this man? Who sent for him?” he demanded, in a furious -voice. - -“I did. I sent for him,” said the mother, pale with fear and feebleness, -but wishing to shield her daughter. - -“I did! I wrote him a note,” murmured the daughter, in a dying voice, -sick with terror, but wishing to save her mother. - -“Traitors! Shameless household traitors! so there are a pair of you! a -desirable wife and daughter! a very suitable mother and daughter! But -I’ll find a way to punish you both. I’ll——” - -Here he was interrupted by Sinclair, who, turning to him, said, in a -composed but stern voice: - -“Colonel Chester, visit your anger and reproaches upon me, who knew of -your prohibition, not upon those who possibly knew nothing about it.” - -“You have the insolence to tell me, sir, to remind me, that you knew of -my prohibition to cross my threshold! while standing here in my house, -in the very heart of my house, my wife’s bedchamber!” exclaimed Colonel -Chester furiously. - -“In your wife’s sick-chamber, sir, where, as a Christian minister, it is -my bounden duty sometimes to come.” - -“And, d—— you, from whence I’ll put you out!” exclaimed the infuriated -man. - -“I will go. Good-evening, Mrs. Chester; good-evening, Alice. I leave you -in the care of Heaven,” said Sinclair, wishing, by all means, to avoid -the disgrace of a struggle. - -“Go! what, go quietly like an honored guest dismissed? No, d—— you, you -came surreptitiously, and you shall depart involuntarily. No, d—— you, I -will put you out!” vociferated the maniac, in an ungovernable fury, -springing upon Sinclair. - -A violent struggle ensued. Sinclair acted entirely upon the defensive, -saying, continually, as he could make himself heard: - -“Colonel Chester, let me go! I will leave quietly; I would have done so -at first.” - -And now the deathly grip and struggle went on in silence, interrupted -only by the short, curt, hissing exclamations of the enraged man through -his now whitened lip and clenched teeth. Sinclair was half the age and -double the weight and strength of his opponent, and could easily have -mastered him, but did not want the odium of doing it. - -While wrestling desperately on the defensive, he expostulated once more: - -“Colonel Chester—not for my sake, but for your own—for your family’s, -for honor’s sake, let me depart in peace!” - -“Ah, villain!” exclaimed the madman, finding his strength failing, and -suddenly drawing a pistol, he pointed it at Sinclair’s temple and fired. -Sinclair suddenly started, and the bullet went through the window, -shattering the glass. Chester now raised the spent pistol and aimed with -it a violent blow upon Sinclair’s head. Sinclair quickly caught his -descending hand, when—— - -A power more awful than the judge’s baton, the monarch’s scepter, or the -priest’s elevated crucifix arrested the combat. - -Death stood in their presence! A cry of mortal anguish from Alice caused -both to turn and look—both to drop their hold—and stand like -conscience-stricken culprits! - -There lay Mrs. Chester, the gentle, patient, long-suffering woman, -stricken down, dying in her daughter’s arms. - -Colonel Chester came to his senses at once, feeling all the horror and -remorse of a murderer. - -And Sinclair repented from his soul that he had not permitted himself to -be expelled from the house with every species of ignominy rather than to -have seen this. - -That ashen brow—those fixed eyes—that silent tongue, and quick, gasping -breath! that face of the dying! it would never depart from his memory. -Oh! any personal indignity rather than this memory! if he could but save -her! but she was beyond all help now, for—even as full of sorrow and -remorse he gazed—with a long, deep sigh, as for the pilgrims she left -behind on earth, her spirit passed to God. - -Sinclair bore Alice, fainting, from the room. - -Colonel Chester fell down on his knees, dropping his head upon the bed, -and throwing his arms over his dead wife in a paroxysm of remorse and -despair, ungovernable as his rage had been, and, alas! nearly as -transient! - - - - - CHAPTER IV. - THE SUBJECTION OF ALICE. - - Oh! bid me leap, rather than marry Paris, - From off the battlements of yonder tower. - _—Shakspere._ - - Now see that noble and most sovereign reason - Like sweet bells jangled out of tune and harsh! - That unmatched form and feature of blown youth - Blasted with ecstasy! - _—Ibid._ - - -After this terrible family storm, in which poor Mrs. Chester’s vital -powers had suddenly failed, the peace stern death enforces reigned -through the house. Alice, her heart and brain overturned by endurance, -lay exhausted, almost insensible, upon her bed within her chamber. - -General Garnet had taken himself off to the village tavern, whence he -had been invited to pass a week or two, at Point Yocomoco, the seat of -Judge Wylie. - -Mr. Sinclair, in the disinterested kindness of his heart, remained at -the house, superintending and directing everything, unquestioned by -Colonel Chester, who, when he met, recognized him with a sigh or a -groan. He remained until the funeral was over, and the house restored to -its former order, and departed without seeing Alice, who, still -prostrated, had not left her room. And after this, as Colonel Chester -had not revoked his prohibition, he came to the house no more. - -As days glided into weeks Alice recovered a portion of her strength, -left the chamber, and mournfully went about her customary occupations. - -Poor Alice! her spirit was very willing, but her nerves were very weak. -So it was with a pang of fear that Alice heard her father at the -breakfast table one morning announce the expected arrival of General -Garnet that evening. Yes, Colonel Chester, thinking that now perhaps -sufficient time had elapsed since her mother’s death—and sufficient -strength and cheerfulness had returned to his daughter—had recalled her -suitor. Alice was trembling violently—she dared not look up. She had -been taught to love and venerate her father above all earthly beings, -and next to God. She loved and venerated him still, and kept her -thoughts reverently away from investigating his motive and judging his -conduct. She had been taught to bow with implicit and reverential -obedience to his will. To oppose him had not been easy in her thought—it -was terrible in practice. It would have been terrible to her had her -father been a man of moderate temper and self-control; but he was a man -of violent and ungovernable passion; and Alice was in an agony of terror -when she faltered out: - -“Father, if General Garnet comes here only as your guest, I will welcome -him with every possible attention; I will try to make him feel at home, -and endeavor to render his sojourn with us in every other way agreeable; -but if he comes here as my suitor——” Here her voice died away. - -“Well!” - -It is impossible to convey the short, curt, galvanic strength and -abruptness with which he jerked, as it were, this syllable out, and -brought Alice up. It was like throwing the lasso suddenly around her -neck, and jerking her up face to face with him. And such a face! It is -impossible to paint the grim determination of the locked jaws, armed -with the wiry stubble beard, bristled up with fierceness, and the -ferocity of the darkly-gathered frown that screwed his glance upon her -pallid face, that screwed it into her very brain. Alice turned deadly -sick, her eyes filmed over, and she sank back in her chair. She did not -faint or lose consciousness, for the next instant she felt her father’s -iron hand upon her fragile shoulder, and her father’s awful voice in -that low, deep, suppressed tone of fierce, immutable determination, -saying: - -“Miss Chester, it is not as your suitor, but as your husband, that -General Garnet will come this evening. I command you to receive him as -such.” - -And he left her. - - - - - CHAPTER V. - THE HUSBAND’S AUTHORITY. - - Yet haply there will come a weary day, - When overtasked at length, - Both Love and Hope beneath the weight give way; - Then with a statue’s smile, a statue’s strength, - Stands the mute sister, Patience, nothing loth, - And both supporting does the work of both. - _—Coleridge._ - - -Let us hasten over the next few hideous weeks. Alice had a serious -illness, from which she recovered slowly; her spirit utterly broken; her -heart utterly crushed; her very brain clouded. Her whole being bowed -down by the storm of sorrow, yet with no one to support, comfort, -sympathize with her. Sinclair, that only living being who could have -saved her, was absent, forbidden to approach her. She was left alone, -almost imbecile, and so quite defenseless in the terrible power of her -father. - -And what words are these to write! and what a position was hers when -that divinely appointed parental authority—that protective and -beneficent power—was perverted by pride, ambition, and selfishness into -an engine of mighty torture, inflicting a fatal and life long calamity! - -Yet the father verily believed that he was disinterestedly serving his -daughter’s best interests. There is no more profoundly mournful -illustration of the ruined archangel than that of any perverted love. - -With the support of her feeble mother, had she lived—with the support of -Sinclair, had his piety been less æscetic, more hopeful—Alice might have -successfully resisted the fate impending over her; but she was alone, -reduced by sorrow and illness to a state of imbecility of mind and body, -and she succumbed to her destiny. - -So, in just three months from the death of her mother Alice Chester, -pallid, cold, nearly lifeless, whiter than the pearls in her pale hair, -stood in bridal array before God’s holy altar, to vow in the hearing of -men and angels to love and honor one whom she found it difficult not to -hate and despise. - -Immediately after the marriage they set out upon a bridal tour through -the North. They were absent all summer. Early in autumn they returned to -Mount Calm, where, at the earnest desire of Colonel Chester, they took -up their residence. Alice would have preferred it otherwise. - -After their marriage, and during their long and varied bridal tour, she -had, as it were, lost her identity, seeming to herself to be someone -else. The varied scenes of her journey—the stage-offices, turnpike -roads, country taverns, great cities with their masses of brick and -mortar, public edifices, forests of shipping, gay shops, theaters, -concerts, balls, illuminations, dancings, splendid attire, stage -pageantry, the ranting and the after silence, land journeys, water -journeys—all haunted by one painful presence—had passed before her like -a phantasmagoria; like a continuation of her brain fever, with its -nervous delirium and grotesque or hideous visions and hallucinations. So -all had seemed to her, while she seemed to all a pale, pretty, silent -girl. - -There is a point of suffering beyond which sorrow destroys itself—is not -felt as real—just as there is a crisis at which physical agony -superinduces insensibility. So it had been with Alice, until she -re-entered her native State, and memory and association were at work -again, - - “And the accustomed train - Of things grew round her brain again”; - -then it was with the shrinking dread with which a burned child would -approach fire that Alice drew near her home. She would have preferred to -remain away for ever, amid the kaleidoscopic changes of her new, -wandering, unreal life, rather than have awakened from the strange, -painful, but very vague dream; rather than have consciousness forced -upon her by the dear, old familiar scenes and associations of her -home—her once peaceful, hopeful, happy home, as by - - “Some monstrous torture-engine’s whole - Strength.” - -The day of their arrival at home a large company had been invited to -meet them at dinner. The days that followed were filled up with dinner -parties. At length, late in the fall, they were quietly settled, and the -monotonous routine of daily country life commenced. One thing Alice -dreaded and avoided—appearing at church again under her new position and -name. But Sinclair had accepted a “call” to a church in the West, which -opened to him a new field of labor and usefulness. His departure -followed; and this was a great relief to Alice, who, with the “sigh of a -great deliverance, tried to leave the past with all its gloom and -terror,” and turn to the future with some hope. - -Two events of great domestic importance occurred in the second year of -their marriage; one was the death of Colonel Chester, who died, as all -their neighbors said, of nothing more than his diabolical temper; as -their physician said, of congestion of the brain, brought on by -excitement. And what do you think was the cause of this fatal -excitement? That the child of Alice happened to be a girl instead of a -boy, which he had set his heart upon. - - - - - CHAPTER VI. - COUNTRY NEIGHBORS. - - Blest those abodes where want and pain repair - And every stranger finds a ready chair; - Blest be those feasts, with joyous plenty crowned, - Where all the blooming family around, - Laugh at the jests or pranks that never fail, - Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale, - Or press the weary traveler to his food, - And feel the luxury of doing good. - _—Goldsmith._ - - -Alice was almost in solitary confinement in the cold, stern prison of -her home, for General Garnet discouraged association with old friends, -who at least suggested the past, if they did not openly refer to it. - -But there was one family, and that family the very warmest and most -steadfast among the few friends of Sinclair, from whom General Garnet -had not the will to separate his young wife—the Wylies of Yocomoco, or -Point Pleasant, as their seat was more frequently called by their -delighted visitors. Who, indeed, had the will or the power to do aught -to annoy the delightful host of Point Pleasant? - -Who in all the South has not heard of Judge Jacky Wylie, still called -judge because he had once sat upon the bench, though not finding the -seat comfortable, he had abandoned it, affirming that he had “not the -heart” for the business? That was a favorite phrase of the judge, who -was always asserting that he “hadn’t the heart,” when everyone knew that -he had the largest heart in all old Maryland. - -And there was his mother, a gentlewoman of the old school, without any -state about her, a Lady Bountiful of the neighborhood, without any -pretensions. - -Who did not know and love old Mrs. Wylie? - -How she was adored by the large, miscellaneous family Jack had gathered -together! To be sure, all Jacky’s unprovided nieces and nephews were her -grandchildren, and it was partly for love of her, to please her, to let -her gather all her second brood under her wing, that her son Jacky -collected them. Yes, she was adored by all that household of laughing -girls and roystering boys, the tide of whose love and fondness for her -was so great that it sometimes overflowed the barriers of -veneration—just as Jacky’s confidence in God sometimes swamped his -reverence!—but most of all was she idolized by the adopted son of Judge -Jacky, Ulysses Roebuck. - -Next to his grandmother Ulysses loved his smallest cousin, little -Ambrosia, the only child of Judge Jacky, and the little goddess of the -whole household of grown-up and growing young men and maidens. Little -Ambrosia, named after her Uncle Ambrose, who had been the elder and only -brother of Jacky, and the favorite of his mother, but who had died in -youth. And it was to please his mother that Jacky, having no son, called -his little daughter after his brother. And it was a lovely name, too, he -thought—a lovely, tempting, caressable name! really better than one -could have hoped; for Ambrose was old-fashioned and ugly—low be it -spoken. - -I think the negroes must have conceived it to be a “tempting” name, too; -for, with their inevitable fault of corrupting language, they called the -little seraph, with her charming face and sunny hair, “Miss Ambush.” - -And “Marse Useless” and “Miss Ambush” were the prime favorites of the -plantation, notwithstanding, or perhaps, because of, the dare-devil, -don’t care-ishness of the former. - -It was with this family, then, that General and Mrs. Garnet interchanged -frequent visits. Often the old lady, Mrs. Wylie, accompanied by little -Ambrosia and a waiting-maid, would drive up to Mount Calm in their -old-fashioned phaeton, to spend the day; or else two or three of the -girls and young men would ride up to pass an evening, and return by -starlight. And not unfrequently young Mrs. Garnet would go down with her -little Alice and pass a day and night at Point Pleasant. - -There was yet another family with whom the Garnets were upon terms of -close intimacy and friendship—their next neighbors, the Hardcastles of -Hemlock Hollow, whose estate joined Mount Calm, lying immediately behind -and below it, and extending further inland. The family at the Hollow -consisted of Lionel Hardcastle, High Sheriff of the State; his only son, -Lionel, Jr., a youth of fifteen, and his nephew, Magnus, a boy of ten -years old. - -Lionel Hardcastle was the only man in the county with whom General -Garnet could be said to be on terms of close intimacy. Their estates, as -I said, joined; their rank in life was upon a par, and their country -interests almost identical. They were also of the same party in -politics, of the same denomination in religion, and of like opinion upon -all common and local questions; so that there was very little to differ -about, while there was a great deal to attract them to each other in -their very opposite temperaments and characters, experiences, and mental -acquisitions. - -Mrs. Garnet had always been strongly attached to the family at the -Hollow, and though there was no lady at the head of the establishment to -receive her, she continued to accept the invitations to dinner extended -to General Garnet and herself, and always accompanied him thither. - -But Mrs. Garnet had her favorite among the Hardcastles—this was young -Magnus Hardcastle, the nephew, a fine, handsome, spirited, and generous -boy, devotedly fond of his beautiful neighbor, and her sweet little -girl. Very often would Mrs. Garnet take Magnus home with her to spend -several days or weeks at Mount Calm. And when he was not staying there, -still every day would the boy find his way to Mount Calm, with some -little childish love-offering to its sweet mistress. In spring it would -be a bunch of wood violets, or wild sweet-briar roses, gathered in the -thicket, and of which Alice was very fond; in summer, a little -flag-basket of wild strawberries or raspberries, which Alice loved -better than hothouse or garden fruit; in autumn, a hat full of chestnuts -and chinkapins, gathered in the forest, and hulled by himself; even in -winter the little fellow might be seen trudging on, knee-deep in snow, -with a bunch of snow-birds which he had caught in his trap for pretty -Cousin Alice, as he called Mrs. Garnet. - -Very bright would grow Mrs. Garnet’s pleasant chamber when Magnus, with -his sunny smile, would break in upon the pensive lady and the little -child, and light up all the room with his gladness. Very often the lady -would open her arms to receive the joyous boy, and fold him to her bosom -in a most loving clasp, grateful for the new life and joy he ever -brought her. - -Mrs. Garnet loved her own beautiful and gentle child, but it was with a -profound, earnest, almost mournful and foreboding love. - -But Magnus was a perpetual day-spring of gladness and delight to her. -She could not look upon the boy without a thrill of sympathetic joy and -hope. - -And so the years had passed, and Alice grew happy in their flight, until -the second trial of her life approached. - - - - - CHAPTER VII. - HUTTON OF THE ISLES. - - Thou art as tall, as sinewy, and as strong, - As earth’s first kings—the Argo’s gallant sailors— - Heroes in history, and gods in song. - _—Halleck._ - - -The Huttons, proprietors by pre-emption right of St. Clara’s town, bay, -and isle for more than two hundred years, had settled among the islets -of the bay many years previous to the date of that patent by which James -I. granted the province of Maryland to George Calvert. - -At the commencement of the American Revolution a certain Captain Hugh -Hutton, the then representative and head of the family, fired with an -enthusiastic passion for liberty, or—fighting! sold a great portion of -his patrimony, and purchased, fitted out, and manned a privateer, and -sailed against the British flag. - -He served gallantly and with various success during the whole period of -the war. - -At the glorious close of the revolutionary struggle, ruined in fortune -and riddled with wounds, Captain Hugh Hutton, the sailor-patriot and -martyr, retired to the last foothold of his once kingly estate, to the -little island of St. Clara’s, otherwise called Hutton’s Island—there to -die in obscurity. - -A few days previous to his death he called his only son, Hugh, to his -bedside, and enjoined him never to demand—never even to accept -compensation from Congress for his services and his losses during the -war. - -“My fortune, my labor, my life-blood were not sold, but given to the -cause of liberty and of my country,” he said, and these were the last -words of the sailor-patriot. - -Hugh Hutton, the son, and now the sole representative of the family, was -at this time about eighteen years old. Having lost his mother at an -early age he had been taken by his father as a companion in all his sea -voyages. - -He had sailed with him in his first privateering expedition against the -British ships. At first as a childish and innocent spectator, afterward -as a youthful and enthusiastic actor, he had figured in all the -sea-fights in which his father’s ships had been engaged during the whole -course of the war. - -Thus all education, except that exclusively of the sailor and soldier, -had been denied him. And thus Hugh Hutton, though tall, strong, -handsome, and gallant, like all his race, was yet rude, unschooled, and -unpolished. - -He was faithful to the dying injunctions of his father. With many claims -upon his country’s remembrance and gratitude he set forth none. - -Loving the ocean with the passionate enthusiasm of all his father’s -nature, he took to it as his natural element. - -First he engaged in the humble capacity of mate on board the _Little -Agnes_, a small schooner plying between Hutton Town and Baltimore or -Alexandria, as the freight or market demanded. - -After serving many years in this situation, an unexpected turn in the -wheel of fortune gave him the means of purchasing a larger vessel of his -own, and of extending the area of his trade and the length of his -voyages. This was the death of the old ship-owner and captain with whom -he had sailed for many years, and who, dying, left him all his moderate -possessions on condition of his marrying his only daughter, then a mere -child of fifteen years of age, and constituted him her guardian until -the marriage. The heart of the brave young sailor had seldom or never -turned on love or marriage—it was not the nature of his free, wild, -adventurous race. But when he had buried his old captain in Baltimore, -where he died, and taken the command of the little schooner to return -home to Hutton Town to find his little ward and wife—then—ah! then all -sorts of strange, sweet, solemn, and tender thoughts of beauty, and -love, and home, and repose swarmed about his heart. - -It was late in the afternoon of a glorious October day that the -schooner, with her crew, put into the harbor of Hutton’s Inlet. In -striking contrast to the warm-hued, deep-toned, refulgent natural -scenery was the cold, white front of a mansion house standing upon a -distant hill against the western horizon, and girt around with its old -ancestral trees. This was Mount Calm, the seat of General Aaron Garnet. - -The little schooner, with its white sail, glided swiftly and smoothly -into the inlet, and cast anchor near the hamlet. Leaving the vessel in -charge of the mate, Captain Hutton took a boat and went on shore. A -crowd of villagers, as usual, thronged the beach, anxious to hear and to -tell the news, and hearty greetings and noisy questions met him as he -stepped upon the strand, such questions as: - -“How is the old captain? How is old Seabright? Why don’t he come -ashore?—though there is evil news enough to meet him when he does come! -Where is the jolly old dog, then? I guess he’s wanting up at home -there?” were some of the storm of words hailed upon him. - -“Friends,” replied the young sailor, shaking hands right and left as he -pushed on, “our old captain is outward bound to that distant seaport -whence no voyager ever returns. Permit me now to go on and break the sad -news to his child.” - -“Stay! Poor old man, when did he die? What ailed him?” exclaimed two or -three of the most persevering, detaining him. - -“To-night, friends—to-night at the ‘Neptune and Pan,’ I will tell you -all about it. Permit me now to pass on and take his last letter to his -daughter,” said the skipper good-humoredly, elbowing and pushing his way -through the crowd. - -“Stop! What’s to become of the young girl—pretty Agnes Seabright? How -did he leave his bit of property?” - -“To-night, comrades—to-night, at the ‘Neptune and Pan,’ I will meet you. -You shall have a supper, and drink to the memory of the outward-bound -while I tell you all about it. I must go now!” impatiently exclaimed the -captain, shaking off the pertinacious, and hastening away up the -straggling street of the hamlet. - -Hugh Hutton, like all his fathers, was far above the usual height of -men—indeed, all his characteristics were not only marked, but -extravagant; thus he was very tall, broad-shouldered and deep-chested, -very muscular and thin, with a very dark complexion, with black hair and -eyes, and very high, commanding features. Honest, brave, and frank even -to rashness, generous even to extravagance, unselfish to the degree that -the worldly-wise would call fatuity; yet he had never known a mother’s -care, a sister’s companionship, and his indifference to home joys was as -profound as his ignorance of love and of woman. Brought up on a ship’s -deck by a rough sailor father, he learned to love the ocean and wild -liberty with a profound and passionate enthusiasm. - -But now he had a little girl left to him. He must make a home for her, -take care of her, and make her happy if he could. This was a very novel -duty indeed, and set him very keenly to thinking. The first natural, -strange, sweet fancies that had been awakened by the idea of this lovely -living legacy had fallen asleep again, and left him to his normal, free, -glad, but hard, unloving nature. And now the thought of pretty Agnes -Seabright fretted him like a fetter. - -He pursued his walk up through the village, up over the hills rising one -beyond the other, until he came to the arm of the forest stretching -around the base of that tallest distant hill, upon which stood the -white-fronted mansion house of Mount Calm. He pursued his walk on -through this arm of the forest, ascending the hill until he came to a -small cleared space, in which was a little cot inclosed within a narrow -garden and nearly hidden with trees. He opened the small gate and passed -up the narrow walk between rows of marigolds, crimson, white, and yellow -chrysanthemums, scarlet verbena and other bright fall flowers, to the -little door at which he rapped. - - - - - CHAPTER VIII. - THE BRIDE OF THE ISLES. - - A beautiful and happy girl, - With step as soft as summer air, - And fresh young lips and brow of pearl - Shadowed by many a careless curl - Of unconfined and flowing hair; - A seeming child in everything, - Save thoughtful brow and ripening charms, - As nature wears the smile of spring, - When sinking into summer’s arms. - _—Whittier._ - - -The door was opened by a beautiful girl between fourteen and fifteen -years old, not tall for her age, but full-formed and exquisitely -proportioned. Her features were regular, with the “sweet, low brow,” and -straight nose and arched lips of the Grecian profile; her eyes were of -dark and melting hue, and her dark, rich auburn hair, parted over a -forehead of snowy fairness, dropped in a mass of irregular ringlets down -cheeks of carnation dye. The idea she inspired was that of a richness -and fullness of life. - -She stood within the door with a smile, awaiting the pleasure of the -stranger, whose knock had summoned her. Captain Hugh had never seen -Agnes Seabright before, so that he handed her the letter, saying: - -“I think that this is for you?” - -She took it, and was about in her haste to break the seal and possess -herself of the contents, when her eyes alighted on these words, written -on the corner: “To make my little girl acquainted with Mr. Hutton, my -mate and good friend.” Then she raised her eyes from the letter in her -hand to Hugh Hutton’s face. Then she offered her hand shyly but kindly, -while she said, simply: - -“How do you do, Mr. Hutton? Will you walk in and sit down, and excuse me -while I read father’s letter? I have not heard from him for so long,” -she said, as they walked into the parlor. - -He sat down in a large flag-bottomed chair and began to draw figures on -the sanded floor with a stick, while she retired to an end window to -read her father’s farewell letter. - -Captain Hutton watched her growing pale and paler as she read the letter -to its close—as she folded it and advanced trembling to his side—as she -laid her hand heavy from faintness on his arm, and speaking in thick, -faltering tones, said: - -“Tell me! I don’t—I’m afraid to understand what this means! But, my -father—where is he gone?” - -Hugh took both her hands in his, while the folded letter fell to the -ground, looked full, looked kindly and gravely into her set and anxious -eyes, and answered slowly: - -“To heaven, Agnes.” - -He would have held her hands longer, gazed longer upon that beautiful -but troubled countenance, as to impart his own strength and composure, -but she withdrew her fingers, sank down upon a chair, and covered her -face with her hands. Soon between the fingers copious tears flowed. Then -she arose and slowly left the room. - -What was to be done with this young and beautiful girl? To be sure, -there was Hugh’s own home on Hutton Island, and there was Miss Josephine -Cotter, Hugh’s maiden aunt; but the home was so poor, and Miss Joe—so -queer! There was no knowing how Miss Joe might receive this poor child, -so much in need of love and sympathy and care just now. After ruminating -a long time he could think of no better plan than to at least consult -Miss Joe upon the subject. So, his hours for the evening being all -pre-engaged, he determined to go home early the next morning to break -the news to his aunt. - - * * * * * - -“You must perceive, Aunt Joe, that I’m in a serious dilemma.” - -“Well, then, here! take this reel and wind off this hank o’ yarn, while -I foot my stocking. People needn’t be idle while they’re talking. More -idle time is spent talking than any other way—as if people’s hands and -tongues would not go at the same time.” - -Hugh obeyed with a good-humored laugh. At last: - -“Well, aunt?” he said. - -“Well, Hugh! Now begin, and tell me all over, all about it, for I don’t -know as I understand it—quite!” - -Hugh recapitulated the history of Captain Seabright’s illness and death, -his last will and testament, and finally the embarrassment in which he -found Agnes Seabright and the relation in which he stood toward her, -concluding with: - -“Now, what am I to do with her, aunt?” - -“Marry her, Hugh. There is no home open to the orphan but this—nor this, -unless you marry her first. You promised to wed her—you mean to wed -her—why not do it at once? Will the marriage rite hurt or inconvenience -you? Just let the marriage ceremony, which gives you a lawful claim to -her, and which gives her the right to live here in this house as its -mistress, and which will shut the mouths of the gossips for ever—be -performed. ‘An ounce of preventive is better than a pound of cure,’ even -in matters of gossip. Then bring her here to me. I’ll be a mother to the -child. I’ll do the best I can for her. I’ll make her feel at home, and -make her happy, even on this lonesome island.” - -The next morning Hugh spent with Agnes Seabright. And after that he -visited her every day, until the orphan’s tears were nearly dried and -the maiden’s heart won. - -For the reception of the bride Miss Joe was making every preparation -which she could make without spending, or, as she called it, “heaving -away of” money. Hugh schemed “to draw all points to one,” so that the -marriage should take place upon the very day on which he was to sail for -Baltimore preparatory to a longer trip to the West Indies. So, very -early on a glorious autumn morning, while the rising sun was shining -splendidly into the chapel windows, the marriage ceremony was quietly -performed in the village church by the village parson. - -Immediately after the ceremony was concluded Hugh tucked Agnes under one -arm and Miss Joe under the other, and hurried down to the beach to get -them on board the boat. He lifted Agnes into the skiff, handed Miss Joe -after her, and, entering himself, laid his hand vigorously to the oar, -and they sped down the stream and over the bright waters. - -It was a golden morning—grand, exultant, inspiring! Out before them -rolled the boundless, the magnificent sea, with its myriads beyond -myriads of waves, leaping, flashing, sparkling, scintillating like fluid -emeralds in the dazzling splendor of the morning sun. - -As he looked upon this scene Hugh’s eyes kindled, blazed. He did not see -how sad was the brow of his young bride. No! the sea-king had already -risen above the lover. - -At last the island lay before them like a line of gold. He rowed swiftly -for it. Soon they landed on the glittering strand. It was here they -parted. - -“And—be kind to my little Agnes!” he whispered, as he took leave of the -old lady. - -“Now, Agnes,” he said, as he folded her to his bosom and pressed his -first and farewell kiss upon her lips. - -Then he sprang into the boat and struck out to sea in the direction of -his vessel, riding at anchor at about a half league’s distance, and -which was to sail with the tide. - -“Come, Agnes,” said Miss Joe, kindly taking her arm to draw it within -her own. - -“Not yet—not just yet! And, if you please, just let me watch until the -boat gets out of sight.” - -“Honey, it will put your eyes out to try to look upon this sparkling -sea. Come; breakfast is waiting for us, I know.” - -“I wish he had only stayed to breakfast with us! I could have parted -with him better then, if I had known he had eaten a good, warm -breakfast.” - -“The tide wouldn’t wait, you know, child, and he will get his breakfast -on board his vessel. Why, what’s the matter, Agnes? I do believe you -like him already! I do believe you’re sorry he’s gone!” - -“He was my only friend! Since father died I was getting used to him,” -said Agnes, bursting into tears. - -“Well, I declare to man, if it is not wonderful! All them Huttons had -never seemed to value woman’s love—have every one of them always got -more than they deserved. Come, Agnes; the boat is quite out of sight -now; come home and take a cup of coffee, child; it will cheer you up.” - -“Do you think he is safe on board of his vessel yet?” - -“Oh, yes, of course! Come, a cup of coffee is first-rate for -trouble—’cause, you see, I’ve tried it! Come, honey!” - -And Miss Joe drew Agnes’ arm within her own and walked up the isle -toward the cottage. - - - - - CHAPTER IX. - HUTTON LODGE. - - A snug thatch house; before the door a green; - Hens in the middling; ducks and geese are seen; - On this side stands a coop; on that a pen; - A wood-pile joins. - _—Allan Ramsay._ - - -Hutton Lodge, on Hutton’s Island, had been built in the palmy days of -the family’s prosperity. - -It was to this lodge that Captain Hugh Hutton of Revolutionary memory -had retired with his sole female relative, his sister-in-law, Miss -Josephine Cotter. And here, after his death, had the good woman -continued to live. - -And here was Hugh Hutton’s home whenever his ship would be in port. And -finally, it was to this lodge, or cottage, as he called it, that Miss -Joe conducted her young charge, the widowed bride. - -The days were all occupied with work—yes, hard work. All day long the -whir of the flying shuttle, and the dull, monotonous clap-clap of the -warp-rammer would be heard, as Miss Joe sat at her loom; and the hum of -the great spinning-wheel as Agnes stood and spun. Agnes had no motive -under the sun for her industry but Hugh’s interest and Hugh’s pleasure. -To become an efficient help-meet for Hugh—to be an industrious and -saving little housekeeper for Hugh’s profit. And when Miss Joe praised -her docility and perseverance, poor girl, she felt as though she were -receiving Hugh’s approval. Sometimes she would be tempted to think a -little hardly of his having gone to sea so instantly after their -marriage, but when this thought took the hue of blame she banished it at -once. But—did he love her at all, when he could leave her so soon, and -with so little emotion? She feared not. Would he ever love her as she -loved him—as she wished to be loved? She knew herself to be beautiful -and attractive. She would have been an idiot not to have known it. In -her deep and secret heart, while never acknowledging her purpose to -herself, she sought to adapt herself to her circumstances and duties, -and fit herself to win Hugh’s approval and love. Such were her silent -dreams and reveries by day, while her spinning-wheel whirled under her -hand, and the incessant clap-clap of Miss Joe’s loom sounded on her ear -from the other corner. And so November and the greater part of December -passed, when a letter came from Hugh announcing his speedy return home. - -At length the important day dawned; it was Christmas Eve. The snow was -two feet deep on the ground, and crusted with a coat of ice thick enough -to bear the heaviest footsteps without breaking through. The day was -cold, crisp, but clear. - -It was nearly sunset when Agnes went up into her room for the fiftieth -time that day to look at the sea for a sail. It was very cold, and there -was no fire, so Agnes thought just to give one sweeping glance over the -waters and then retire, when her eye alighted on a distant sail making -toward the isle. She wrapped a large woolen shawl around herself and sat -down to watch what might come. The vessel bore down rapidly upon the -island. When within about a quarter of a mile and bearing away westward -toward the mainland, she lowered a boat with two rowers, who pulled -swiftly toward the island landing. Agnes recognized Hugh and one of his -crew. She started and ran downstairs, exclaiming as she burst into the -kitchen: - -“Hugh is coming! Hugh is almost here, aunt! I saw him in the boat!” - -“Is he?” said the old lady quietly. “Well, then, honey, do you take some -water upstairs in—in—in my—no, your room for him to wash, while I put up -the supper, so that he needn’t wait.” - -Agnes complied, arranging everything neatly and conveniently, and then -returned to the kitchen to assist Miss Joe in arranging the supper on -the table. - -They had scarcely completed their task before a sharp rap was instantly -followed by the pushing open of the door, and Hugh entered alone, -vigorously stamping the snow off his feet. - -Miss Joe looked at the snow and her soiled floor, and sighed heavily and -shook her head before she even advanced to welcome her nephew. - -That greeting over, Hugh extended his hand to his young wife with a “How -do you do, Agnes, my dear?” and threw himself heavily into a great -armchair by the fire. - -Yes! it seemed but too true! The little love Agnes had inspired him with -during their short acquaintance had all evaporated during the not much -longer sea voyage! - -Would he go to his room and change his dress? Would he have water? -Everything was in readiness for him upstairs. - -No! he would stay here in this armchair by the chimney corner until they -should sit down to tea. He did not wish to give anybody any trouble. He -begged that they would take none. Besides, he was so glad to see his -good aunt and little Agnes that he did not wish to lose a single moment -of their company for the little time that he had to stay with them. - -Then Miss Joe invited him, as soon as he should feel himself -sufficiently rested, to take off his overcoat and sit down to supper. - -Then Hugh arose, and Agnes quietly took his hat and Miss Joe drew off -his overcoat and inducted him into his seat at the table. The supper was -a feast. Besides the usual indispensables of coffee, rich cream, fresh -butter and light bread, there were oysters and wild duck, stewed fruit, -cakes, and so on. - -Hugh asked Agnes how she liked her island home. This was the first -question he had put to her since his return. - -Agnes answered that she liked it very well. Did she not find it -lonesome? - -“No, indeed.” - -Poor Agnes in her desire to be agreeable was totally unconscious of her -falsehood. - -Then Hugh turned to Miss Joe, inquiring kindly after her health. - -Oh, her health was always good, and had never been better than at this -moment. - -When tea was over and the table cleared away they all drew around the -fire. Miss Joe, with her reel and yarn, and Agnes sitting idle in -compliment of Hugh’s return. - -Hugh, on his part, began to tell them of his voyage, of his success, of -his happiness to find himself at home again; of a certain large and -well-filled box which he hoped might be acceptable to his aunt and -Agnes. Whereupon Miss Joe began an exordium on the sin of “heaving away” -money, which was gently cut short by Hugh, who, rising up, announced -that he really ought to have been back to his vessel an hour before, and -that he must now take leave of them. - -“When shall we see you again?” - -“To-morrow, about noon.” - -“What! not before?” - -“No; I have to go to Huttontown.” - -“Well, you’ll stay when you do come?” - -“I am afraid I cannot promise you, indeed, aunt; but, at all events, I -will see you every day, and make it a point to spend the whole of -Christmas Day with you. Good-night, aunt! Good-night, Agnes, my dear!” - -A week passed, during which Hugh was for the most part at the cottage. - -New Year’s Day dawned. It was the last day he had to stay at home. They -spent this holiday very much as they had spent Christmas Day—going to -church at Huttontown in the forenoon and returning to the isle to -dinner. After dinner Hugh took them to the mainland, where he hired a -sleigh and gave them a long, fine run over the frozen snow. - -The next morning Hugh came early—unknown to Aunt Joe, however, who was -outdoors giving directions to Pontius Pilate about his day’s work. She -had returned to the kitchen and was busily engaged, as usual, at her -loom, when she was very much astounded by a noise on the stairs as of a -man’s heavy footsteps, and the stair-door was pushed open and Hugh -appeared, porter-like, with a great trunk—Agnes’ trunk—upon his -shoulders, a basket in his hand, and a bandbox under his arm, and -followed by Agnes herself, dressed in traveling gear, with another -basket and a bundle. - -Miss Joe stared in amazement, without being able to articulate. - -“Why, what in the name of all the saints in heaven does all this here -mean?” - -“I am going to take Agnes to sea with me,” said Hugh. - -The old lady broke out into loud sobs for company. - -Hugh set his trunk, bandbox, and basket down upon the floor and set -himself to the task of comforting and soothing both. - -Miss Joe was the first to recover. - -“Come here, Aggy, my darling child! You have been like a darter to me, -honey. Kiss me again. Since you will go, Aggy, God bless you, my child! -God bless you! I shall comfort myself very well by weaving cloth and -flannel, and making counterpanes for you against you come back. -Good-by!” And she embraced Agnes fondly and lifted and placed in her -hands the basket and bundle. - -Hugh now came forward, and, for the second time, bade his aunt farewell; -and, resuming his bundles, trunk, bandbox, basket, etc., set out for the -beach. - -“If I’d only known, I’d a’ had a cup of coffee ready for you,” said the -old lady; and she looked really pitiable as she stood there in her -solitude, watching them as they went down to the beach and embarked on -board the little boat and sped toward the distant ship. Having with the -aid of a spyglass seen them embark on board the ship, Miss Joe turned -into her lonely home and began preparing her solitary meal. - - - - - CHAPTER X. - THE PATIENCE OF ALICE. - - Thou must endure, yet loving all the while, - Above, yet never separate from thy kind; - Meet every frailty with the gentlest smile, - Though to no possible depth of evil blind, - This is the riddle thou hast life to solve; - But in the task thou shalt not work alone, - For while the worlds about the sun revolve, - God’s heart and mind are ever with His own. - _—J. Monckton Milnes._ - - -It is now twelve years since the marriage of Alice Chester and General -Garnet, and six months since the departure of Hugh Hutton and Agnes upon -their sea voyage. - -General Garnet is absent on an electioneering tour, but daily expected -back. - -It is June, and the scene is the terrace in front of Mount Calm. There -are four persons upon the terrace. - -Alice occupies a rustic seat under the shadow of a locust tree. She is -still a most beautiful woman, very delicate, almost sylph-like, with her -fair, blond beauty and airy, white muslin wrapper. She is calmly -pursuing a piece of fine, white, knitting-work—that favorite busy -idleness of all Maryland ladies. At her feet is a very small basket, -containing her keys and the ball of lamb’s wool yarn from which she -knits. Near her stands a young mulatto hand-maid of about ten years of -age. - -Lower down upon a step of the terrace sits her daughter Alice, or Elsie, -as she was called for distinction’s sake. Elsie is now a very beautiful -child, promising to be much more beautiful than her mother had ever -been. She strangely united the most beautiful features of both parents. -She had the delicate, Grecian features, fair, roseate complexion, golden -hair, and blue eyes of her mother, with the passionate, veiled gaze and -bewildering smile of her father. She had a finer vital and sanguine -temperament than either could have possessed; a more rounded form, more -elastic motion, a more joyous expression, a more gladsome cadence in her -speech and in her laughter. Elsie sat sketching an elm tree from -nature—the tree stood before her, at some distance on the lawn. She was -bending over her drawing-board, that rested on her lap, until her fair -ringlets almost concealed her rosy cheeks. She, also, wore a simple -white muslin dress that harmonized well with her blooming beauty. Behind -her, bending over her, stood a youth of sixteen; but for height, for -breadth of shoulders and depth of chest, and manly and athletic -proportions generally he might have been taken for twenty years of age. -He was a very handsome boy, with bright chestnut hair, waving around a -massive brow and relieving and beautifying its heavy strength, -gracefully as foliage shades rock. He seemed to have just returned from -gunning, for he wore a dress of forest green, his cap lay at his feet, -his pointers were near, and one hand rested upon a fowling-piece, while -with the other he pointed alternately to the elm tree and the drawing, -giving Elsie some instruction in her work. His dark gray eyes, full of -thought, truth, and affection, were fixed upon her. - -And while they pursued their work Alice, from her rustic seat, watched -them. Alice, looking as serenely happy as though her heart had never -been broken, her brain never been crazed by calamity, anguish, and -despair verging upon madness; as healthful, amiable, and self-possessed -as though she had never sworn in her frenzy that she could not survive -the severance from Sinclair; that neither moral, intellectual, nor -physical nature could stand the test—the misery of a life with Garnet. - -But Divine Providence is kind, and nature is full of remedial power. We -have all strength given us according to our need. If our joys are -greater in anticipation than in realization, so certainly are our -sorrows. - -Alice, in the terrible storm of passion that had temporarily dethroned -her reason, believed that she could not outlive her marriage; yet she -had lived twelve years, and was comparatively happy—possibly happier -than many a girl who had married for love, or its semblance. - -It is true that from the hour she awoke from the strange torpor that -immediately followed her marriage her religious principles had taught -her to turn from the memory of Sinclair, whenever that memory recurred. -She prayed against, she strove against it, wrenched her thoughts -forcibly from it, and riveted them to something else. And her prayers -and struggles had produced this happy effect. The image of Sinclair had -faded away with the brightest visions of her girlhood. And now that that -typhoon of youthful passion had long passed, and even its memory had -almost faded away, her genial, affectionate, religious nature made her -happy. With such a nature Alice could not live without forming -attachments to those around her. He must have been a terrible brute who -could not have been blessed with some portion of her affection by simply -living in the house with her for twelve years. And General Garnet was -not exactly a brute. He was very handsome, graceful, and accomplished -and habitually polite. And now that time had long worn out his jealousy -he had ceased all undignified and ungentlemanly interference with his -wife’s specially feminine occupations and associations. Alice was happy -with her housekeeping, her garden, her dairy, her country neighbors, her -favorite Magnus, and her little daughter. Yet, had the Angel of Destiny -whispered to her heart this alternative: “Your daughter! two fates await -her—to die in her childhood, or live to be an unwilling bride—choose for -her!” Alice would have answered with a shudder and without a moment’s -hesitation: “Let her die in her childhood rather. Let her die now, -rather!” And to have saved her from the misery of wedding one she could -not love, Alice would have been content to lay her heart’s only -treasure, her idolized child, in the grave. - -But no such question of Destiny had yet called back the memory of the -past, and Alice was happy as she drew out her knitting-needle and smiled -at the boy and girl on the terrace. - -At last the sketch was finished and Magnus pronounced it perfect, and -threw his shoulders back with a yawn of relief, and brought his hands -together with a ring, exclaiming, as he turned to Alice: - -“Now, cousin, let me order the horses and let us ride at once to the -beach. Why, here’s Goliah come from the post office—with a letter, too!” - -“It is from the general, madam,” continued Magnus, receiving the letter -from the boy and handing it to Alice. She opened and glanced through it. -Then turning to the expectant child, she said: - -“Elsie, your father will be home this evening. He will bring with him -Judge Wylie, Mr. Ulysses Wylie, Mr. Hardcastle, and Mr. Lionel -Hardcastle. He requests me to have supper ready for the party.” - -Alice was soon superintending the preparations for supper. She had a -good deal of the pride of the housekeeper and the hostess about her. -Every Maryland woman has. - -And that evening General Garnet entertained his friends to his heart’s -content. It was a sort of little political party, at which Mrs. Garnet -was not expected to appear. - -After supper Lionel and Ulysses left the grave conclave of politicians -to the discussion of Congress and canvas-back ducks, and came out upon -the green. - -Lionel was full of the new good fortune that had befallen him. The -dearest wish of his life was gratified; his father had at last obtained -for him a midshipman’s warrant and he was going to sea. Alice looked at -the wild and willful youth with much anxiety, and wished in her heart -that it might have been otherwise; that he might have been forced to -stay under his father’s protection and surveillance. - -Lionel also, in his frank, off-hand manner, informed his Cousin Magnus -there before them all that his father had not forgotten him, either; -that he had arranged with a celebrated physician of Baltimore to receive -him as a student. - -Magnus received this news with feelings of blended pain and -pleasure—pain at the thought of leaving his dear “Cousin Alice” and her -beautiful child—pleasure at the idea of the opening prospect of study, -improvement, and independence. - -Elsie never thought of the evil; she only thought of the good; she threw -her arms around his neck and wished him joy and success. - -But Alice was much more depressed than the occasion seemed to warrant. -Again she caught herself wishing that young people could possibly remain -at home. All partings depressed her. The idea of these saddened her. - -Was the cloud on her beautiful face really sorrow at the certainty of -losing her loving boy-friend, or was it the shadow of coming events? -Alice sighed heavily as she watched the young people dance. And at an -early hour she recalled them to the house, served them with -refreshments, and, pleading great fatigue, dismissed them all to their -several chambers. - -She then threw herself languidly into the great easy-chair to await the -breaking up of the party and the appearance of General Garnet. She had -scarcely had an opportunity of speaking to him since his return. - -It was not very long before she heard the gentle, cheerful bustle of the -departing guests, and the ringing tones of Judge Wylie’s voice above all -the rest, inviting everybody to Point Pleasant the next evening for the -purpose of meeting everybody else. - -When the last guest had departed General Garnet entered Alice’s parlor. - -“Up yet, Mrs. Garnet! Have I been so unfortunate as to disturb your -rest?” - -“No—oh, no! I think you were very quiet for a party of gentlemen—not at -all like the noisy parties Judge Wylie gathers. No; I had no opportunity -of welcoming you home,” she said rising and offering her hand. “Have you -had a pleasant journey?” - -“A successful one, madam, which is better. I think that there can be no -reasonable doubt that D—— will carry the majority of votes in the -districts through which we traveled.” - -Her next question was a housekeeper’s query: - -“How did you like your supper, and were your guests pleased?” - -“All was very well, Alice—and, could they be else than pleased after so -triumphant a canvass?” said he, taking a seat and motioning Alice to do -the same. “I have something to propose to you, Alice, in regard to our -daughter.” - -“Our daughter!” repeated she, with a vague fear creeping over her heart. - -“Yes, our girl. I scarcely approve the loose, irregular manner in which -her education is conducted at home.” - -“It may appear to you so, because her occupations and amusements are so -various; but, indeed, her habits—all habits, I mean, upon which health -and improvement depend—are very regular; and for the rest, human nature -itself—health, improvement—require some little irregularity. The rain -does not fall and the sun shine upon set days. See what a bright, -healthful, happy, intelligent child Elsie is! Part of that is owing to -her habits. She rises very early, breakfasts early, rides with Magnus or -one of the servants, returns and devotes three hours to her books.” - -“Yes, all that is very well, but there should be a systematic course of -study, which, I fancy, you are not quite competent to direct.” - -“Try me,” said Alice. “I have not been idle all my life, nor all my life -occupied exclusively with the eating, drinking, and wearing interests of -our family. I have found time to cultivate my mind, for Elsie’s sake. I -have read and reflected much. I expected to be Elsie’s only teacher. I -have been, hitherto. And I wish, above all things, to continue to be. -Then I shall feel better assured of her best good; better assured that -her affections will not run to waste while her intellect is cultivated.” - -“‘A little learning is a dangerous thing.’ It makes anyone -conceited—especially, I think, a woman who has few opportunities of -comparing her ignorance with other people’s knowledge,” muttered General -Garnet to himself. Then slightly raising his voice, he said: “No, Alice, -it will not do. Elsie cannot remain under your tuition. I have other and -wiser plans for her.” - -“I suppose,” said Alice, in a low voice, “that you are thinking of -employing a private governess or tutor. Well, if you think it best——” - -“No, Alice, I have no faith in governesses, and I totally disapprove of -private tutors for young ladies. My intention is to send Elsie to a -boarding-school for the next six or seven years.” - -“To boarding-school for seven years! Elsie, my darling, my only one, -away from me for so long! She!—so young!—to go among total strangers for -so long! No! you cannot mean it!” exclaimed Alice, rising and wringing -her hands. - -“Sit down, Mrs. Garnet, and listen to me.” - -Alice sank into her seat again, and listened. - -“There is no female academy of the first class in this country, I am -sorry to say; none, at least, at which I should like to place our only -daughter.” - -Alice’s hopes raised; she thought she might have misunderstood what he -had said before—her mind was so confused. She hastened to say: - -“Oh, then, you are thinking of some very accomplished woman, or some -highly intellectual graduate of William and Mary, who, though not -exactly an ordinary governess or tutor, may be induced to come and take -charge of our little girl for a very liberal salary?” - -General Garnet waved his hand impatiently. - -“Hear me out, if you please, Mrs. Garnet. I have told you that I dislike -private tutors and governesses! I dislike the idea of a stranger -domesticated in the house very much. I said, besides, that there was no -boarding-school in the country to which I could care to trust our -daughter. I intend to send Elsie to England.” - -“To England!” murmured Alice, in an inaudible voice, growing very pale -and sinking back in her chair. - -“Yes, to England. My friend, General A—— is going out there as minister. -He takes all his family, of course. He expects to remain abroad many -years. In talking over with me his prospects, among other things for -which he congratulated himself was the opportunity that his residence -abroad would afford giving his daughters a very superior education. -While we conversed, I spoke of Alice, regretting the limited means of -female education afforded by our country. Well, he proposed that I -should commit my daughter to his charge, to go to England, and be put to -school with his own. He pressed this favor very earnestly upon me. The -opportunity was one not likely to occur again, and therefore not to be -lightly thrown away. Finally I accepted his offer. It was all arranged -between us. The embassy sails from Baltimore in two weeks, and before -that time Elsie must be ready to join the family.” - - * * * * * - -In the course of the month their departure took place from the -neighborhood. - -Elsie Garnet, with many tears, left for her English school under the -protection of the American minister to the Court of St. James. - -Lionel Hardcastle sailed as midshipman aboard the United States ship -_Falcon_. - -And Magnus Hardcastle, taking a most affectionate leave of his beautiful -friend, Alice, and promising many letters, left for Baltimore to enter -upon the study of medical science in the office of a distinguished -physician. - - - - - CHAPTER XI. - ALICE’S VISIT TO HUTTON ISLE. - - “At eve a sail - On the blue water with a freshening gale.” - _—Crabbe._ - - -It was a bright evening near the last of October. The mail had just come -in, and brought Alice letters to gladden her heart for many months. -There was a letter from Magnus—that strong, confident, joyous Magnus, -who always saw so much good and glory in the future. And there was one -post-marked London, and ship-marked _Belle Agnes_, from Elsie—the -healthful, hopeful, happy Elsie, who always made the best of everything, -and was gladsome everywhere. No letter could be more replete with the -tenderest filial affection than hers, yet there was not a word of -home-sickness, or sorrow, or discontent in it. It was full of genial -life, of happy love, and confident hope. - -Alice kissed the loving letter again and again, and walked about, happy, -restless, overjoyed. General Garnet was away from home again, as he was -about half the time. And Alice, after she had read the welcome letter to -all the confidential servants who loved Elsie, bethought herself—by way -of expending some of the extra life she had received—of going over to -see Miss Joe and telling the old lady that her nephew’s vessel was in -port, for that she had got letters by it. She had frequently gone on to -Hutton’s Isle to cheer the lonely old woman, and she knew the old soul -would also be delighted to hear from Elsie. - -Alice told Diogenes, the colored servant, to get the one-horse chaise -and take her over to Huttontown. The chaise was soon ready. Alice -entered it and was driven by Diogenes over to the village. She left the -chaise at the ‘Neptune and Pan,’ and, attended by Diogenes, went down to -the beach. The afternoon was very clear and calm: - - “The air was still and the water still,” - -and she felt no uneasiness in trusting herself to the little skiff and -the one oar to the old servant. - -As they glided over the silent waters the profound stillness of the air -and water was vaguely disturbed by a distant, deep-toned, solemn moan, -swelling on the horizon like the breeze upon a mammoth harp-string, and -dying away in the deep of silence. - -“Did you hear that?” asked Alice of her attendant. - -“No, ma’am, I heard nothing, Miss Ally,” replied the obtuse negro. - -And Alice thought she was mistaken. The bay was perfectly smooth, yet it -seemed to Alice that the vast body of water under them just perceptibly -rose and fell, as though instinct with life and breath. The little skiff -sped like an arrow across the bosom of the waters, and in something less -than half an hour cleared the distance between the mainland and the -isle. The old negro stuck his oar into the sand and shoved the boat up -high and dry upon the beach, so that his mistress could step out -dry-shod. - -“Does not the wind blow around this bleak island even when it is calm -along the coast of the mainland?” asked Alice, as she gathered her -flapping veil and shawl more closely around her and stepped out upon the -strand. - -“La, no, Miss Ally, ma’am; it never doesn’t, of course; dough when der -is a win’, it has more ’siderable of a clean sweep here than anywhere -else. No, Miss Ally, no, ma’am; but de win’ do seem for to be a-risin’.” - -“Come, let us hurry on to the house, for really it is quite fresh,” said -she, drawing her veil down over her face and under her shawl, and -wrapping the latter more closely around her, and striking into the -narrow path leading through the cornfield and up to the house. But when -she had got about halfway up the hill the wind took her so fiercely, -flapping her skirts about her feet, flapping her bonnet and veil about -her face, that she was forced to turn around from the wind to recover -her breath and strength. - -“I can scarcely face this gale! How very suddenly it has sprung up!” - -“Yes, ma’am,” replied the old negro, looking uneasily at the sky; -“I—I—mos’ wish us hadn’t a-ventured out! I—I—I do hope us aint a-gwine -to have a squeeling, knocking storm afore us gits back!” - -“Oh, it is entirely too late in the season for an equinoctial storm,” -replied Alice, following his glance to the sky. “The wind has blown a -few straggling clouds up from the horizon, but it does not look at all -threatening.” - -“Ah, Miss Ally, you don’t know, honey! Der aint never no good in dem ar -switchy mare’s tails!” replied Diogenes, pointing to the long, black, -ragged clouds flying before the wind. Holding her head down, and hugging -her shawl tightly about her, Alice pushed on toward the house. - -Looking up as she reached the top of the hill she saw Miss Joe with her -head far out of the gable end loft window, with an old spyglass in her -hand, leveling it out to sea. Miss Joe lowered her glass for a moment -and perceived Alice, and shouted to her above the blast: - -“How do you do, Mrs. Garnet? Hasn’t this here bluff of wind come up -sudden? ’Taint a-going to be anything but a wind, though, I believe. -Come up to the house, honey. I’ll be down from here about the time you -get up. I have just been looking out after that there vessel down the -bay, as I think must be Hugh’s, seeing I’m expecting him. I spied that -there craft about two hours ago. She was making slow headway, because -the tide was strong agin her. Now she seems farther off than before. I -shouldn’t wonder if this gust of wind, with the current, didn’t blow her -out to sea agin. I hope it aint nothing but a gust, though, that’ll soon -be over. The wind bluffs around as if it were a-going to change too; -then it’ll be fair for her, and she’ll scud along fast enough before it. -Come up to the house, honey! I’m coming down.” - -Alice reached the garden gate just as Miss Joe opened the house door and -came out to meet her, her clothes all blown aslant and flapping about as -if they would go over her head, but looking so hardy, sturdy, -storm-proof, with her shining face rubicund with joy and welcome, Alice -laughed out to see her. - -“Dear Miss Joe! you look chirping as a frosty morning! It enlivens one -to see you! I have heard of people who, going out for wool, returned -shorn. I have come to cheer you, and shall go home gladdened! You look -so chirp!” - -“Oh, honey! I have enough to chirrup me. I’m heern from Hugh and his -wife. You saw that sloop in at Hutton’s Harbor? Well, that there sloop, -she came from the port of Baltimore, where she spoke the _Belle Agnes_, -jest in from Liverpool, and brought a letter from Captain Hutton, saying -as he should run down here soon as ever he unloaded his cargo and took -in some freight for this here port. His letter says how Agnes is going -for to stay long o’ me now. ’Deed, I reckon she’s had enough o’ -sea-faring, a’ready!” said Miss Joe, as she straddled on toward the gate -and opened it. - -Very soon the neat tea-table was set out and a repast, delicate and -luxurious as any epicure could have desired, spread upon it. And Miss -Joe arranged Alice in a comfortable seat at the side of the table near -the fire, and as she poured out the fragrant tea she told all the story -of the letter she had got from Hugh. How they had made such a prosperous -voyage; how Hugh was going to stay home for three months; how Agnes was -not going away again at all; and how she supposed Agnes was cured of her -curiosity to see the ocean. And through all her talk Alice saw how much -family affection was in that old frost-bitten heart of hers. - - - - - CHAPTER XII. - CHILD OF THE WRECK. - - The strife of fiends is on the battling clouds, - The glare of hell is in the sulphurous lightnings. - This is no earthly storm! - _—Maturin’s Bertram._ - - -The sun went down. The wind seemed to lull. Alice arose and put on her -bonnet and shawl for a start. Old Diogenes buttoned his coat up to his -chin, and took up his old felt hat to attend her. Miss Joe threw her -check apron over her head to accompany them, and the little party opened -the door and set out for the beach. The eyes of old Diogenes rolled - - “From heaven to earth, from earth to heaven,” - -in a great trouble! - -Though the sun had but just set, the sky was no longer blue, but of a -lurid, metallic, coppery color, mottled over by leaden clouds, athwart -which, and lower down, scudded huge, black, inky masses of vapor, driven -wildly before the wind that had shifted and was again rising. Lower down -and nearer the earth flew other clouds, flocks of wild sea fowl, -screaming frightfully and dashing hither and thither, or settling upon -the island as for shelter from the coming tempest. Such was the sky. - -The look of the sea was still more terrible. The surface of the water -was very rough, the waves breaking into foam as though frost were thrown -up from the depths of the sea. The whole enormous mass of waters was -rising with a vast, slow, mighty swell, as though some monstrous -under-power were laboring to upheave the ocean from its bed and shatter -it into precipices and caverns. And all around the lurid horizon boomed -the low, deep, awful sound of the coming storm. - -“It will never do to try to cross the water to-night, my dear child,” -said Miss Joe, solemnly and fearfully. “We’re going to have an awful -storm, and it may burst upon us at any minute.” - -“’Deed, Miss Ally, child, it’s wery unsafe—wery! Don’t let’s be -a-tempting o’ Providence! Don’t!” said Diogenes, his teeth chattering -with cold and terror. - -Just then the voice of the wind wailed across the waters like the shriek -of a lost spirit, and the salt spray of the sea was dashed in their -faces. The sky seemed to be settling down over the isle, and the waters, -black, heavy, and dark! The mighty sea was heaving, settling, rising to -meet the lowered sky! The vapor of the clouds and waves seemed -intermingling! The rising wind howled and shrieked! - -“Well, child, if you venter upon the water this evening, you’ll row to -the Kingdom of Heaven,” said Miss Joe. “Turn—hurry back! We must get to -the house as fast as possible, or the storm will be upon us! Child, -alive! what are you standing looking out to sea for? I do believe you -are more afraid of braving General Garnet’s anger than that of the wind -and sea themselves.” - -“I should not have come,” said Alice, turning shuddering, away from the -beach. - -“Yes, you should!” replied Miss Joe; “and now you should come back! -Hurry! hurry! hurry! Look at that mass of black cloud rushing like a -demon up the sky!” - -It was now very dark, and they hastened on toward the house. They -reached it as a furious blast of wind drove them against its walls. They -went in the house. Shutters were closed, props were placed against the -doors to assist the old locks in holding them against the fury of the -storm. And as the room was now pitch dark, except by the lurid light of -the smoldering fire, Miss Joe lit a candle and set it on the -mantelpiece. Alice sat down in the chimney-corner armchair, very pale. - -The storm raged, shrieked and howled around the house. Hourly its -violence increased; tenfold the crash of falling trees, twisted off at -the roots, the clatter of rattling tiles and shingles, reft off and -rained down from the roof; the scream of the frightened water-fowl, the -howl of the alarmed cattle, mingled with the shriek of the wind and the -thunder of the waves in the grand diapason of nature’s wildest, most -terrific harmony. - -At last came the awful crisis of the storm. The wind had - - “Paused to gather its fearful breath.” - -and now rushed upon the house with the invincible power of a storming -battery, with a sound, a shock, as if two planets had met in fatal -concussion. The earth trembled; the massive roof of the strong house was -torn off and hurled aloft; heavy blocks of sandstone came clattering -down from the topmost wall, and then the rain fell its vast sheets, as -if “all heaven was opened.” And now came a sound more terrific than that -of an advancing army! - -The ocean was upon them in its might! - -Speechless with awe, like those in the immediate presence of sudden -death, Alice and Miss Joe remained locked in each other’s arms. The old -negro ran wildly about, like one perfectly distracted, screaming: - -“Oh, my God! my God! we shall be all drowned in this very house, like -blind puppies in a tub! Oh, will nobody ’fess me o’ my sins? Oh, Lord! I -’fess to de breaking o’ all de ’mandments, rather dan miss absolushum -for dem as I has broke!” - -And so he ran about and raved, while Alice and Miss Joe remained -motionless, waiting for death where they sat. - -The water that dashed against the wall was no longer the rain, but the -sea—the sea cannonading the house! - -An hour like an eternity passed, during which the waves, with deafening -sounds, stormed the walls, and the inmates waited for death. Then the -horrible tempest seemed to abate; the ocean seemed to be retiring. - -Oh, were the waves indeed receding, or was it only one of those fatal -pauses, during which the storm fiend gathered new strength for -destruction? - -Alice, fearful, hopeful, raised her head, doubtful of the reprieve from -immediate death. - -Miss Joe clasped her closer in her arms, but listened. - -Diogenes stopped in his wild walk and began to praise all the saints. - -Yes, the ocean was certainly receding. They were saved! But now, amidst -their joy, came a knell of doom! - -The signal gun of a ship in distress! - -No one knew how often that knell had pealed before. It could not have -been heard, amid the deafening noise of the waves, any more than the -report of a single cannon could have been distinguished in the thunder -of a million others. The sound struck to the hearts of all present. - -“Oh!” said Miss Joe, “that ship! that ship! It is the very ship I -spied—I know it is—I know it is! And, oh! it may be the ship of Hugh!” - -Again the minute gun boomed over the sea. - -“Oh, Heaven, how I pity them! What can be the nature of their danger? -The storm has almost ceased; if they could live through that terrific -tempest, surely they can save themselves now. What can be the danger to -which they are exposed now?” asked Alice. - -“The ship, tossed about so in the horrible storm, must a’ sprung a leak. -Oh, if it should be Hugh’s ship!” replied Miss Joe. - -Again the minute gun wailed across the waters. - -“And, oh!” exclaimed Alice, wringing her hands, “if there is one thing -worse than imminent danger or death to one’s own, it is to be in perfect -safety and to hear, near by, the cry of others in extremity, and to be -unable to give them aid!” - -Once more the minute gun wailed across the waters. It seemed the voice -of a last appeal. - -“My God, I can scarcely stand this!” exclaimed Alice, shuddering, -cowering, stopping her ears, while Miss Joe walked about, groaning, -groaning, groaning! - -But once more the minute gun wailed across the waters. It seemed the -voice of a last reproach. - -The two women and the old negro could do absolutely nothing to help the -dying ship. They felt their own safety as a shame, and covered their -heads to shut out the sound of death. They need not have done so. - -The minute gun wailed no more across the waters. The voice was silenced -for ever! - -“Oh, my God! my God! she is gone down! she is gone down!” screamed Miss -Joe, wrought up to an agony of terror and grief beyond all self-control. - -The dread silence that followed was more insufferable than the terrific -storm in its utmost fury had been—than the awful voice of the minute -gun, in its vain appeal, had been! It was long after midnight now. Miss -Joe, unable longer to bear the awful pause of fate, went and pulled open -the door and looked out. - -The wind had lulled, the rain had ceased, the waves had gone down, the -storm was nearly over. Yet in the deep darkness she could only guess the -wild ruin that had been wrought around. The sky hung over the waters -black as a pall, yet by the phosphoric light of the sea that still moved -and sparkled she discovered a dark object, like the hulk of a huge -vessel, disappear under the waves. - -And, hush! What sound is that, low and distinct, in the deep silence of -the awful night? The sound of approaching footsteps and voices hurrying -on, and now very near. - -“Light another candle, for God’s sake! some people are coming. God send -it may be Hugh and his men! Light another candle, quick! and thrust it -into a lantern!” exclaimed Miss Joe, hastening into the house. - -And before the light of the other candle blazed, the room was filled -with sailors, storm-beaten, dripping wet, two of the foremost of whom -bore the body of a fainting woman in their arms. - -It was Agnes. - -“Where is Hugh—where is your captain? My God! where is Hugh?” exclaimed -Miss Joe, as her eyes roamed over this wild party in the vain quest of -her nephew. - -“We left the captain on the deck of his vessel. He refused to leave it -while a man remained on board. We are going back for him, and half a -dozen others,” said the mate, looking about in haste for a place to lay -Agnes; then, putting her in the arms of old Dodgy, he turned, with three -others of the men, and left the house for the beach. - -“Too late! too late! I saw the ship go down myself!” exclaimed Miss Joe, -beside herself with grief. - -“What must I do with this here young ’oman, Miss Ally?” inquired -Diogenes of his mistress. - -“Take her upstairs, Diogenes, and I will go up and attend to her,” said -Alice. And leaving Miss Joe and the shipwrecked sailors below, Alice -followed the old negro with his burden upstairs. - -But there a scene of ruin met her startled gaze. The roof had been reft -from the house in the storm; the rain had poured through the ceiling of -the loft and drenched the bed-chambers. One of the beds, however, being -in a more protected angle of the room, was comparatively dry. This Alice -turned over, and upon this the old negro was directed to lay his -insensible burden. - -While Alice was rubbing and chafing the cold, cold hands and feet of the -shipwrecked girl, a loud cry of despair came up from below. - -She hastened downstairs to know the cause. - -The mate had returned from a fruitless errand. The _Belle Agnes_ had -gone down with all left on board, and among them the brave and generous -Captain Hugh Hutton! - - * * * * * - -Within the next three dreadful hours, “in night and storm and darkness,” -a man-child was born—son of the storm and the wreck—heir of a desert and -a ruin! - - - - - CHAPTER XIII. - THE DESOLATE HOUSE. - - Alas! It desolately stands - Without a roof, the gates fallen from their band, - The casements all broke down, no chimney left! - _—Allan Ramsay._ - - -The sun rose next morning upon a scene of ruin that defies description. - -The house was almost a wreck. The roof, the chimneys, and the shutters -of the upper story were gone. The windows were shattered and driven in. - -The grounds also were literally laid waste. All traces of field, and -garden, and flower yard were washed away. Trees were torn up by the -roots, fences were leveled, outbuildings blown down, and all swept away -by the flood. Cattle and poultry were drowned, and their bodies carried -off by the sea. - -Yes! the isle was indeed a desert, and the house was a ruin, with the -exception of the lower story, which, having been built of stronger -material, and being less exposed to the violence of the wind, had -remained entire. - -If the scene without was wretched, the scene within was scarcely less -so. - -The shipwrecked sailors had gone down to the beach for the purpose of -searching for the bodies of the drowned men, if, perchance, they might -have been thrown up, and of hailing any boat that might pass within -hail. - -Agnes and her child had been removed from the open and exposed upper -chamber to the lower one, which was more comfortable. Alice, forgetful -of her own fears and cares, bestowed upon the unfortunate young woman -the most affectionate attention. Miss Joe, broken-hearted and half -crazy, yet still governed by her inveterate habits of order and -industry, went about putting things to rights, groaning, wringing her -hands, and getting breakfast. Diogenes brought wood and water, and stood -shivering and waiting orders without the door. - -Very soon after sunrise General Garnet, with two of his servants, -arrived from the mainland. The wild ruin that reigned around, the deep -distress that prevailed within the house, arrested all speech of blame -upon his lips. He kissed Alice, expressing his gratitude to Heaven that -she was saved. He condoled with Miss Joe, said that he would send over -workmen to repair the house, offered any other assistance in his power, -and requested to know in what manner he could serve her. But Miss Joe -shook her head dolefully, said that she had always lived without alms, -and that she could not receive any now; that she had not very long to -live, but hoped she should not die a pauper. - -After breakfast General Garnet took Alice home. - -For many days nothing was talked of but the storm and the wreck. And -every day brought in news of some disaster that had been wrought by the -tempest. - - * * * * * - -One day, as Alice sat sewing in her room, General Garnet entered with a -cloud upon his brow, and the newly arrived Norfolk _Signal_ in his hand. -To his wife’s startled look and anxious question, he answered: - -“A heavy misfortune has befallen our neighbor Hardcastle. His son Lionel -was lost in the storm of the 28th.” - -“Oh, Heaven!” - -“Yes, fearful as the wind was here, it was even more terrific farther -down the coast. The _Falcon_, homeward bound, was about entering Hampton -Roads when overtaken by that horrible and disastrous tempest. The -_Falcon_ suffered frightfully. In the midst of the storm several of the -crew and one of the midshipmen were washed overboard. Here is the full -account in the leading column of the _Signal_. Read it. I must go over -and see poor Hardcastle. By the way, Alice, this makes a very great -change in the prospects of your young friend, Magnus. Hardcastle had no -other child but Lionel, and has no near relation but his nephew Magnus, -has he?” - -“No,” said Alice, looking surprised at such a question at such a time. - -“Hum-m-me! then, indeed, this ‘ill wind’ has blown a great inheritance -to Magnus. I suppose that after his uncle has somewhat recovered the -shock of his bereavement he will recall Magnus. He will scarcely permit -him to pursue the study of medicine now.” - -“I think that Magnus will prefer the study of some profession. I am sure -that he wishes to live an earnest and useful life.” - -“Well, I do not know a more earnest purpose, or a more useful life, than -that lived through in the proper administration of a large estate. By -the way, Alice, I hope you have not, with your usual indifference in all -things and to all persons, neglected to write to the poor boy during his -banishment among total strangers in Baltimore?” - -“I write to him every week.” - -“That is right; perfectly right. I am very glad to hear it. Apropos, -Alice, were not Magnus and Elsie very great friends?” - -“They were very much attached to each other,” replied Alice, with her -innocent eyes still dilating with wonder at these queries. - -“‘Very much attached to each other.’ Hum-m-me! Mount Calm and Hemlock -Hollow would form one very magnificent estate, joining as they do—about -ten thousand acres, would they not be?” - -“Yes,” said Alice abstractedly. - -“Yes, certainly, that is it. Let us see—how old is this youth?” - -“About seventeen, I believe.” - -“Yes, and he will marry very early, if he can find a wife to suit him. -He will settle very soon to serious, practical life. He is just the -young man to do it. Alice, when he returns I hope you will not permit -him quite to forget old friends. Stay—our Elsie is—twelve years of age?” - -“Not quite.” - -“Well, nearly twelve—then thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen—four -years. Four years will quickly pass away; and our young gentleman can -wait that long. At the end of four years I shall bring Elsie home from -school. She will then be sixteen years of age. You were but a year older -when you were married, Alice. Say, answer me—you were but seventeen when -you were married, were you not?” - -“I was but seventeen,” replied Alice. - -And here the conference ended. - -General Garnet found Mr. Hardcastle in the extremity of grief. He had -only received the dire intelligence of the loss of his only and -well-beloved son, in a letter of condolence from the captain of the -ship. He had nothing new, therefore, to learn from General Garnet, but -thanked him for his visit and his sympathy. General Garnet remained with -him all day and until a late hour of the night, when he took his leave. - -Days, weeks elapsed, before Mr. Hardcastle found courage to summon -Magnus to Hemlock Hollow, though in the meantime Magnus had written -often, expressing his heartfelt sorrow and his earnest sympathy, and -entreating permission to come home and see his uncle. At last Mr. -Hardcastle wrote and recalled him. Magnus came and remained over -Christmas. Then, his uncle being restored to his usual state of -composure and cheerfulness, and being engaged in his customary -occupations of agriculture and politics, hunting, fishing, and company, -Magnus begged leave to return to his studies. His uncle opposed the -proposition. What was the use of his studying a profession now? Could he -not be contented to stay at home and keep a childless old man company? - -But Magnus wished to be busy again. - -“Well, could he not be busy enough overseeing the overseer, and keeping -the plantation in order?” queried the old man testily. - -But Magnus was very much in earnest, and persisted in his purpose. -Finally, the old man angrily threatened to disown him, and let him go. -And Magnus, preferring his profession to any inheritance, departed. - -But let the reader rest assured that the old gentleman had not the -slightest intention of discarding the fine boy, whom he loved as a -second son. - - - - - CHAPTER XIV. - VANISHING OF AGNES. - - They sought her that night and they sought her next day, - They sought her in vain ‘till a week passed away; - The highest, the lowest, the loneliest spot; - Her neighbors sought wildly, but found her not. - _—Mistletoe Bough._ - - -Days and weeks passed on, and brought Christmas, when an event occurred -of so startling and inexplicable a nature as to fill the whole -neighborhood with wonder. - -Miss Joe’s preparations for Christmas were all made, with the exception -of the turkey and the materials for the plum-pudding. Miss Joe’s turkeys -had all been drowned in the great flood. Now, to have a roast turkey and -a plum-pudding at Christmas was Miss Joe’s eleventh commandment of the -Lord and fortieth article of the Episcopal faith. So she took two pairs -of men’s woolen socks that she had just completed, donned her antiquated -bonnet and shawl, and, taking Pontius Pilate as her negro body-servant, -prepared to start for Huttontown to exchange her work with the village -shopkeeper for raisins, currants, and spice, and money to purchase a -turkey. Snow clouds were slowly condensing in the sky, but Miss Joe -assured Agnes that she would be back long before it came on to snow. - -And then, full of cheerful energy and anticipation, she set out. - -Agnes remained in her usual apathetic mood, unheeding the flight of -time, until the sudden rising of the wind and the sudden hustling of -hail-stones against the windows told her that a furious storm was coming -up. She arose and closed the window-shutters with some difficulty, and -lighted a candle, when she found, to her surprise, that it was already -seven o’clock. It was high time for Miss Joe to be at home. And now it -occurred to the kind heart of Agnes that the good old lady, coming in -from the storm, might relish a cup of hot tea. So she threw more wood -upon the fire (Miss Joe’s forethought had supplied her with a pile of -wood by the chimney corner), and filled the tea-kettle and hung it over -the blaze. But Agnes knew that if Miss Joe did not come almost -immediately, if she had not already landed on the island, she would not -come that night. Agnes set the table and made the tea. - -An hour passed by and Miss Joe had not returned, and Agnes gave her up -for the night. - -At about midnight the storm abated, the clouds broke up, and a few stars -looked shyly out as if reconnoitering the darkness. The night was very -dark. Agnes, who felt lonely and nervous, and could not sleep, opened -the window-shutters to look out, but could scarcely discern the line -where the dark waters met the snow-covered beach. The sky hung like a -black pall over the island. The deep darkness, the deep silence, the -deep solitude oppressed her with gloom and fear. Her form was shrunk, -and her eyes dilated by terror. - -Suddenly, while she gazed, the whole scene was brightly illuminated. -Several torches blazed along the beach, lighting up the whole line of -coast, and revealing the forms of three boats already landed, and the -figures of several men passing back and forth. - -At the same instant that Agnes perceived them, she felt that she herself -must have been seen in the strong glare of the lighted window at which -she sat. - -She started up with the wish to extinguish her candle, when she saw -several of the men with torches approaching the house; and, overpowered -with terror, she fell in a swoon. - - * * * * * - -In the meantime Miss Joe had very reluctantly been detained at -Huttontown by the utter impossibility of getting through the snowstorm -to the isle. She had passed the night with Mr. Fig’s—the -grocer’s—family, bemoaning the necessity, and lamenting that “that poor -young thing would feel so lonesome, staying by herself on the island all -night.” - -Very “bright and early” the next morning Miss Joe, with a fine fat -hen-turkey, living, and tied by the legs, and several packages of -raisins, currants, and spices, entered her boat and set out on her -return home. - -When she reached the lodge the scene of confusion that met her eyes -nearly transfixed her. Both doors, front and back, were wide open, and -the air was rushing through the room. The fire had gone out; the great -logs of wood had burned in two and fallen apart, and the charred and -blackened ends were sticking up. The candle had expired in melted -grease, which was now spread, cold, all over the candlestick, and down -upon the nice white-oak table. The bed had not been slept in, for there -it was perfectly smooth as Miss Joe had left it, with her own peculiar -folds and twists about it. And there lay the baby in the cradle, -screaming its little life away. - -“In the name o’ God A’mighty, Pont, what has been a-happening?” asked -Miss Joe, lifting up the child, and sinking with it into a chair, pale -as death. - -Pontius Pilate stood there with the screeching and struggling turkey in -one hand and the bundle of groceries in the other—looking like a statue -of dismay, carved in ebony. - -“In the name of Heaven, Pont, what has been a-takin’ place?” repeated -Miss Joe. - -“Gor A’mighty knows, mist’ess; but I does werily b’lieve how de -Britishers is been landen’ ag’in, or else Bonnypart. Chris’ de Lor’ be -praised, ole mist’, dat I an’ you wa’nt home when dey come. See, now, -how ebery ting turn out for de bes’. S’pose dat snowstorm hadn’t a come -up, where you an’ I been? Good Lor’! poor Miss Aggy! Wonder what’s come -o’ her?” - -“Yes, what, my Lord! Pont,” said Miss Joe, who never in any emergency -was known to neglect the plain practical duty of the moment, “go and get -the tinderbox, and light a fire quickly, and heat some milk and water -for this child. He is almost frozen and almost starved.” - -And Pontius Pilate put down his burdens and did as he was bid. And Miss -Joe made the infant perfectly comfortable, and put him to sleep, before -she joined Pont in his vain search around the island for Agnes, or some -clew to her fate. - -When she ascertained that Agnes was certainly not on the island, she -dispatched Pontius Pilate to the mainland to rouse up the people of -Huttontown to prosecute the search. - -And the people were aroused indeed to a state of nine days’ wonder. - -What could have become of her? How could she have left her sea-girt isle -without a boat? Would she have forsaken her child at all? - -No; Miss Joe was certain she would not; she was too fond of him. - -Had she possibly drowned herself? - -No; Miss Joe was sure not; she was too much afraid of dying and leaving -her babe. - -Had she been carried off, then? and by whom? - -Yes. It was finally concluded that she must have been carried off; but -by whom? That was still the problem unsolved. Inquiries were made up and -down the coast and in every direction. Advertisements were inserted in -the papers, and large rewards offered for her discovery by General -Garnet, Judge Wylie, and other benevolent neighbors. For to this sort of -assistance Miss Joe made no objection. She considered the recovery of -Agnes quite an affair of general interest, as indeed it was. Nothing, -however, was heard of her. - -As months passed, the mystery deepened, and people grew weary of -conjecture. - - - - - CHAPTER XV. - THE ELFIN GIRL. - - But who is this? What thing of sea or land! - Female of sex it seems. - _—Samson Agonistes._ - - -For a time Miss Joe had grieved immoderately over the untimely and -mysterious fate of her niece, and the loneliness of her own lot, and the -prospect of a poor and solitary old age before her; but soon, in the -native kindness and disinterestedness of her heart, she turned to the -child thus thrown upon her exclusive protection, and only hoped that she -might be spared long enough to raise him, and see him able to take his -own part; for, after all, small and helpless, and abandoned as he was, -he was the last Hutton of the Isles, and the heir of—the little sand -bank in the bay, yclept St. Clara’s Isle or Hutton’s Isle. - -Very strange was the lot and life of the lonely recluse of the sea-girt -isle and her little protégé. Their only possessions were the nearly -barren islet, the dilapidated lodge, a cow, a sheep or two, a little -poultry and a dog. No cart or horse had they, nor even any use for -either. The small skiff conveyed them to the mainland whenever, for the -purpose of laying in a few groceries or dry goods, or of attending -divine service, they found it necessary or agreeable to go. Their -faithful old servant, Pontius Pilate, whose duty it was to till the -land, row the boat, fish the weir, rake the oyster bed, and cut and -bring wood from the mainland, was their only companion. The soil -immediately around the house being mixed with clay and marl, still -yielded, with careful cultivation, corn and wheat enough for the small -consumption of the little family. And Pontius Pilate saved money by -grinding this in a hand-mill. The little garden produced vegetables -enough for their table. And the two sheep yielded wool enough for their -winter socks and mits—carded, spun, and woven by the indefatigable -fingers of Miss Joe. And so time passed on, until Miss Joe, not having -trouble enough on her hands already, was induced to assume the -responsibility of rearing another child, a little wild elf-like girl, -whose advent was almost as great a subject of gossiping speculation as -the disappearance of Agnes had been. And the name of this elfin child -was Garnet Seabright. - -The history of Garnet Seabright, as it was understood in the -neighborhood, was very briefly this: - -When Hugh was about six years of age Miss Joe received a letter from a -distant relation living in Calvert County, beseeching her, for the -Redeemer’s sake, to lose no time in hastening to the sick-bed of the -writer, who was most anxious to see her before she died. - -Miss Joe had to rub her organ of eventuality before she could recognize -in the writer a cousin, a wild young girl of exceeding beauty and -willfulness, who had, years before, eloped with a soldier, a certain -George Seabright, a distant relation of Captain Seabright. - -Miss Joe never slighted any appeal to her benevolence. She shut up -house, left the island in care of Pontius Pilate, took Hugh to -Huttontown and left him in charge of Mrs. Fig, the grocer’s wife, -borrowed a mule, and set out for Calvert County. - -The house of her cousin she heard upon inquiry was a miserably poor -cottage, with scarcely any cleared ground around it, and situated in the -midst of a deep, dark forest. It was approached for miles only by a -narrow bridle path. It was near nightfall when Miss Joe entered this -lonesome path; it was quite dark before she got near the house. - -“Oh, good Lord! this is a great deal more lonesomer and more wilder than -my sea-girt island they make such a fuss about; for there, at least, I -could see an enemy a long ways off. But here! Lord, there might be an -Injun, or a bandit, or more likely still, a runaway nigger, behind every -tree. Get up, Jinny! Hark! Lord deliver us! what was that?” - -“Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! Highe! cheep! th-sh-sh-e-e-e-e!” laughed, -screamed, chirped, chirruped a sharp, shrill voice, high up in the -trees, or somewhere between them and the blinking stars. - -“Lord save us, what was that?” ejaculated Miss Joe, looking up at the -branches overhead, in the direction of the eerie voice. - -And there she saw, in the dark, bright starlight, in the highest -branches of the trees, among the green and glistening leaves, a little -elfin face, with glittering eyes, and gleaming teeth and streaming hair, -mopping and mowing at her—chattering, gibing, laughing, and screaming at -her. - -“St. John and all the Holy Evangelists! St. Mary and all the Holy -Virgins!—what’s that? It’s—it’s—a fairy—it’s—it’s—a brownie!” exclaimed -Miss Joe, bursting out into a profuse perspiration. - -Miss Joe was neither cowardly nor superstitious, yet when the little -elf, with its wild eyes and streaming hair, glided down the tree with -the swiftness and celerity of a monkey down a mainmast, and leaped, with -a yell of malice and delight, upon the mule, behind her, Miss Joe opened -her throat with a prolonged shriek, that might have waked the dead. - -And at the same time the mule dashed, plunging and kicking, forward. - -The elf stuck its little hands into Miss Joe’s fat sides, and, as the -good lady herself afterward said, clung there like a craw-fish or a -crab. The mule plunged madly on. - -Miss Joe, delirious with terrors, real and imaginary, lost all power of -controlling the animal, dropped the reins, and must have fallen off, had -not the bit been seized by a strong hand, and the mule forced back upon -her haunches. - -“That’s Godfather!” cried the elf, in human words and tones, and Miss -Joe, looking up, recognized in her deliverer General Garnet. - -The sprite leaped from the saddle to the bosom of General Garnet, and -clung there in her crab-like fashion, her little head rubbed, rooted, -under his chin, her little arms around his neck, and her little figure -almost veiled by her long hair, screaming with her inarticulate tones of -affection and delight. - -Miss Joe dismounted from the now stationary mule, and began in an eager -voice to pour forth her surprise, gratitude, and wonder. - -General Garnet, with a look of vexation, tinged with amusement, tried to -shake off his little encumbrance. But it was like trying to get rid of a -chestnut burr; for if he succeeded in pulling her off from one place, -she would stick at another, screaming with wild delight and elfish -perversity, clinging to him, rooting her little head into him. - -“Come, Netty! Come, come! this will not do; release me. Goodness, child, -are your hands and feet furnished with claws?” exclaimed General Garnet, -trying to tear off the little human bramble. - -“Chip! Chip! Chee-ee-ee! H-sh-sh-sh! Whip!” - -It is impossible to convey in words the saucy, defiant, chirping, -inarticulate cry of the sprite, as it rammed its head again into the -bosom of its victim. Presently the elf sprang away of itself, and -perched upon the back of the mule. - -“How is your mother, Netty?” then asked General Garnet. - -“Waiting for you and the old woman, too. She sent me after you.” - -And now Miss Joe and the general looked at each other in astonishment, -as if mutually inquiring, “You, too?” - -General Garnet, putting his hand upon the shoulder of the elf, and -giving her a slight shake, put her upon the ground, took her hand, and -walked up to the dark forest path, drawing her after him. - -Miss Joe took the bridle, and leading her mule, followed. - -A little way up the path was a horse standing perfectly still, saddled -and bridled, and with a portmanteau on the crupper. - -General Garnet remounted this horse, and, taking the wood-sprite before -him, rode on up the path. - -Miss Joe, not wishing to be left behind, tumbled up into her old saddle, -and urged old Jenny to her best speed. They soon came to a little -clearing in the forest, and paused before the humble door of a log -house. The elf sprang down from her seat, and, darting into the door, -cried: - -“They’ve come, Minny! Godfather and the old body, both.” - -“Poke up the fire, and let them both come in, Netty!” was the answer; -and presently the sprite pulled open the door with a bang, and stood -there with her glittering eyes and streaming hair and naked legs, to -admit them. - -They entered and found the room occupied by two persons; a young woman, -who sat propped up in an armchair by the fire; and an old negress, who -seemed to be her servant or nurse. The young woman bore a singular -resemblance to the elf-like child; but her dark eyes were burning, and -her face was bathed with the fatal fires of consumption. She held out an -emaciated hand to welcome her visitors, while the old negress set rude -stools for their accommodation. The young invalid, pressing the hand of -Miss Joe, thanked her many times for her kindness in taking this -journey, and begged her to sit down quite close to her, for that she -could not raise her voice much. Miss Joe drew the stool to the side of -the invalid and begged to be informed how she could serve her, -expressing at the same time her perfect willingness to do so. Then the -young woman, in a feeble voice, interrupted by frequent fits of -coughing, said that she felt she had but little time to live,—that her -days, nay, her very hours were numbered,—that after her death she wished -Miss Joe to take charge of her orphan child; that General Garnet, who -considered himself under great obligations to her late husband, would be -at the costs of its rearing and education, and would, besides, liberally -repay Miss Joe for the trouble she might be put to in taking care of it. - -General Garnet was there to indorse her promises. He approached them; -and taking the feverish hand of the invalid, and turning to Miss Joe, -said: - -“The husband of this young woman was a soldier under my command; he -fought under me during the whole course of the war. Once he saved me -from death. Once he saved me from dishonor. He received his -death-wound—for, years after, it caused his death—in the same battle in -which I won my present military rank. I am under eternal obligations to -him; and while I have an acre of ground, or a dollar at my banker’s, I -will never see this child want!” - -The invalid died the next morning, immediately after being placed in her -chair, where she had insisted upon sitting. - -General Garnet arrived within an hour after, and took the direction of -the humble funeral. - -Within four days from this Miss Joe found herself at home with her -grandnephew, little Hugh, her ward, Garnet Seabright, the old negress, -who had fallen to little Garnet’s possession, along with the personal -effects of her mother, and, lastly, with old Pontius Pilate, who had -complained of great loneliness during his mistress’ absence. - -Little Hugh Hutton was a proud and happy little man the day of Netty’s -arrival. He tried to multiply himself into a train of attendants to wait -upon the little girl. He first proposed to give up his cot bed, his -chair, and his little chest for her use. He brought her all his -playthings, his bows and arrows, and guns and traps, and hammered all -day at what he fondly supposed to be a boat, that he was making for her -benefit. - -When General Garnet had taken leave of Miss Joe at Huttontown, just as -she was about to cross over to her island, he had begged her to apply to -him in any emergency, and to call on him for anything her young charge -might want. The child of the soldier who had served under him throughout -the Revolutionary war, who had once interposed his body to save his -life, should never suffer for the necessaries or comforts of existence -while that life was spared. And this he had said with that earnest and -fervent tone, and with that benign and beautiful smile that never failed -to fascinate the love and trust of all who heard and saw him. And Miss -Joe felt assured and comfortable. - -But now, as days slid into weeks, and weeks grew into months, Miss Joe -heard no more of General Garnet and his promises, nor did she like to -take him at his word and apply to him. He ought to prevent that and save -her feelings, she said. - -As years passed away, however, Miss Joe occasionally wrote to General -Garnet in behalf of her little protégée. For the most part, her letters -would remain unanswered, but when one did elicit a reply, General -Garnet’s epistle would be full of kindness, blessing, encouragement, -good advice, and—nothing else. - -At last, during a bitter winter, their main dependence, their faithful -servant, poor old Pontius Pilate, caught the pleurisy and died. In the -midst of this trouble Miss Joe wrote again to General Garnet, and once -more, and for the last time, invoked his promised assistance. After the -lapse of several days she received a letter from the benignant general, -full of condolence, sympathy, and exhortation to hope and patience, -and—nothing else! The letter concluded with the assurance that she had -nothing to fear—that God never made a mouth for which he had not also -provided food. To this letter the long-suffering old lady was -exasperated to reply—that though it was true God had made both the -mouths and the food, yet the mouths had fallen to her lot, and the food -to his. - -The general never replied to this last letter, and here the -correspondence ceased. - - - - - CHAPTER XVI. - ELSIE. - - Oh! the words - Laugh on her lips; the motion of her smiles - Showers beauty, as the air-caressed spray - The dews of morning. - _—Milman._ - - But ever still, - As a sweet tone delighteth her, the smile - Goes melting into sadness, and the lash - Droops gently to her eye, as if she knew - Affection was too deep a thing for mirth. - _—Willis._ - - -General Garnet was certainly not a parsimonious man; perhaps his -interest in his little godchild had died with her mother; perchance, -being a very wealthy man, he could not appreciate the strait to which -poor Miss Joe and her little family were reduced; possibly, he did not -wish to give his personal attention to little Garnet’s necessities; -probably, he intended that Miss Joe should get what was needed at the -village store, upon his account; certainly, if Miss Joe had liberally -interpreted his letters, and done so, he would, without demur, have -settled the bill. But Miss Joe was far too cautious to put a doubtful -construction on his letters, and run in debt. I never clearly -comprehended the difficulty between them, but I believe they each -misunderstood the other, and so General Garnet remained with the stigma -of cruelty and ingratitude resting upon him, when, perhaps, he could be -justly accused of indifference only. - -Just about the time of Miss Joe’s last application also, General Garnet, -like Martha, was troubled with many things. He was a candidate for the -Senate, and all his thoughts engaged in the secret, intriguing, -vexatious, multifarious business of electioneering; or if he had a -thought or a moment to spare, it was divided between the negotiation -with his neighbor, Mr. Hardcastle, of a marriage between Magnus -Hardcastle and Elsie Garnet, or in preparations for the return of his -daughter—having his house repapered, repainted, and newly furnished. - -Magnus Hardcastle had obtained his diploma, and was getting into some -little practice, despite the grumbling, growling, and swearing -objections of his uncle, who could see no necessity for his nephew -“making a slave of himself for nothing.” - -Yes, absolutely for nothing! Let Magnus show a dollar that he had ever -earned by all his practicing of medicine. Let him show even a dollar -that he had ever got back for the medicines that he had dispensed along -with his attention and advice! - -It was true, Magnus’ receipt-book, if he owned one, was an unwritten -volume. His practice was mostly among poor people, who had no dollars to -spare. - -Well, then, what did he do it for? What good did it do him? There he -was, rapped up out of his warm bed in the middle of the winter’s night, -in the midst of a snowstorm, to ride five or six miles to some old woman -in a cramp colic, or some child with the croup! What good did it do? And -this was not the case once or twice, but five or six times in a month. -And what good did it do him? - -Lives were saved! - -Yes, but what did he get for his trouble? Thanks, maybe. Pooh! he knew -very well that half the time he got nothing but ingratitude and coarse -abuse. He had better remember that Irishwoman, with an inflammatory -fever, who took her powders every hour in a gill of whisky, and, being -near death, swore the d—— doctor’s stuff had murdered her. He had better -remember how the other woman cursed him for cutting off her husband’s -mortified leg to the saving of his life. Pooh! Let him give up the dirty -profession. He did not adopt him, did not intend to give him a fortune -for the sole purpose of enabling him to be a poor doctor without even -parish pay! - -Sometimes Magnus would answer to this effect: - -“Nonsense, my good uncle! If I can do any good in my day and generation, -let me do it. Though I do sometimes get abuse from some poor, ignorant -man, or, more frequently, a blowing up from some poor, nervous, -overtasked woman, who, by the way, would defend me, to the death, the -very next hour, if anyone else attacked me—why should I care? I am quite -as well liked as I deserve to be. Most people are, in fact. Some day the -people around here will send me to Congress in my own despite, I am so -popular.” - -“Send you to Congress! I expected that—I was only waiting for that. It -only wanted that to complete my despair and your ruin.” - -“Dear uncle, be easy—I shan’t go,” Magnus would reply, laughing. - -Yes, Dr. Magnus Hardcastle was very popular, and could have carried as -many votes as any man in the county. He was the constant companion of -General Garnet, by what sort of attraction and association the reader -cannot fail to know. Never was such a zealous partisan as Magnus! Never -was such a stump orator,—earnest, eloquent, impassioned, large-souled, -great-hearted, full of human sympathies,—he could sway a crowd to and -fro in a manner that might have been amusing, if it had not been sublime -in its exhibition of power. It was his personal appearance, as well as -his temperament, that was the cause of much of this power over others. - -But it is time to give you some idea of Magnus Hardcastle at -twenty-three. He was a fine illustration of the beauty of the vital -system. He had the tall, athletic form that distinguishes the men of the -Western Shore; a face rather square, by reason of the massive forehead -and massive jaws, both indicating intellect and strength; but it was in -the fullness of the beautifully rounded chin and cheeks, in the fullness -of the large, but beautifully curved lips, that the fine, genial -serenity, and joyous temperament was revealed; the line of the nose and -forehead was nearly straight, and the eyes were clear blue, the -complexion was clear and ruddy; and the face was surrounded by the -darkest chestnut hair, and whiskers that met beneath the chin. The -prevailing expression of this fine countenance was confidence and -cheerfulness. - -Magnus had been corresponding with Elsie for the last three years, and -looked forward to her return with more of joyful anticipation than -anyone else in the world, perhaps, except her mother. A year before -this, two miniature portraits of Elsie, in her young womanhood, had been -forwarded from England. One of them had been retained by her mother; the -other was presented by General Garnet to Magnus. He wore it in his—vest -pocket. It was his charm, his talisman, his abracadabra. When, if ever, -he would become, for the instant, lazy, stupid, hopeless, or impatient, -he would take that miniature out, touch the spring so that the case -would fly open, and gaze upon that handsome, wholesome, happy face until -energy, inspiration, hope, and patience came again; and he would close -it, and replace it in his pocket with a joyous faith in his coming life, -that not all the powers of evil could have shaken. - -I told you that Magnus was the zealous, active, and most efficient -partisan of General Garnet; he was also the dear friend and confidant of -Mrs. Garnet. Many and long were the confidential talks they would have -in Alice’s dressing room; and the subject of these conversations was -Elsie—still Elsie. - -One day, after reading with Mrs. Garnet Elsie’s last delightful letter, -and discussing with her Elsie’s expected arrival, he exclaimed joyfully: -“This makes me gladdest of all!—that our fresh, dewy, charming Elsie -will come at once to us. Well!—at once to me—that she will not have had, -as most young ladies have, many other lovers; that the sun of the world -will not have stolen the bloom and the dew from our beautiful Maryland -rose.” - -But Magnus “reckoned” his future without destiny, his “host.” - -Elsie had been withdrawn from school, indeed, and was quite ready and -anxious to get home. She was to return with General A——’s family, who -were soon expected to sail for the United States. But one circumstance -following another, and connected with his diplomatic business, had -deferred his departure from time to time, until six months passed -away—during which time Miss Garnet had been presented at court, and was -moving in the best society in London. Yes; and, though still impatient -to come home, enjoying her happy self to the utmost, as every letter -testified. - -Now, you would think that after having congratulated himself so upon the -unsunned freshness of this beautiful Maryland rose, that Magnus would -lament that she was blooming in the very blaze of the sun of fashion, in -the very conservatory of a court. - -By no means; her letters reassured him, every one. - -“It is well, very well, upon the whole,” he said. “She has now an -opportunity of forming an acquaintance with one order of society that -may never occur again—of getting an insight into one phase of human -nature that nothing but this experience could afford her.” - -And time sped on, and brought the day when a letter came to them, dated -at Liverpool, and announcing that General A——, with his family, and Miss -Garnet, would sail within a few days, in the ship _Amphytrite_, bound -from that port to Norfolk. Therefore, it was expected that within a few -days after, if not before the arrival of the letter, the _Amphytrite_ -would be in port. - -General Garnet, accompanied by Dr. Hardcastle, left Mount Calm -immediately for Norfolk, to welcome his daughter, if the ship had come; -to wait for her if it had not. - -Mrs. Garnet remained at home to receive her, in fond, impatient -expectation. - -She had Elsie’s bed chamber decorated, and a fire made in it every day, -and the parlors lighted and warmed, and the tea table set for the whole -party every evening. - -At last, one night,—a week after they had left home,—while she was -standing before the parlor fire, trimming a lamp on the chimney-piece, -and wondering sadly if she were not merely imagining that her long-lost -daughter was expected home, a carriage drove rapidly up the shaded -avenue, steps were let down, people came, a little bustle ensued, hasty -steps and joyous voices were heard. Alice ran out, and, in an instant, -the mother, weeping, laughing, exclaiming, had caught, and was hugging -her daughter laughing to her bosom. Yes, Elsie herself!—Elsie, warm, -alive, real, and such an armful of bright, rosy, joyous life, and love -and reality! I leave you to imagine the joy of the party around the -tea-table that night, where all were too joyful to eat—or the late hour -at which they separated for the night and retired to their several -rooms, where each one was too happy to sleep. - -The next morning, happy, joyous Elsie had to hold a sort of levee for -the benefit of the colored folks. Every negro in the house, or on the -plantation, who had known her before she went away, had to come and -shake hands with her, and welcome her back. And every little one that -had grown from infancy to childhood during her absence, and to whom she -was a sort of fabulous demigoddess, or, it might be, one of the angels, -had to come and stare at her and be patted on the head, and get its -paper of sugar-plums or its toy. - -And then, later in the day, when her trunks and boxes arrived in the -wagon, and were unpacked, she had to distribute her presents and tokens -of remembrance to all and each of the colored people. - -And in the course of the second day, when the news of her arrival began -to be rumored about, the companions of her childhood, now grown up to be -young men and women, flocked in to see her. And it was from their sly -hints and innuendos that Elsie was taught that it was expected of her -father to give a ball, and that, indeed, a great many people would be -very greatly disappointed if he did not. And good-natured Elsie, in -order to make so many young folks happy, named the matter to her father, -and begged him, as a personal favor to herself, in consideration of her -recent arrival home, to give a party. So General Garnet, willing to -please his child, and believing, besides, that a large party might -forward his electioneering prospects, gave his consent. He consulted -Mrs. Garnet and Dr. Hardcastle, and fixed the time of the ball for that -day two weeks. Magnus was with Elsie every day. She perfectly -understood, though she could scarcely have told why, for no one had as -yet hinted the subject to her, that she was at no very distant period of -time to be married to Magnus. She considered her marriage, like her -leaving school, her presentation at court, and her coming-out ball, a -part of the programme of her happy drama of life, and was content. She -loved Magnus. During her absence in England, she had remembered and -loved him as she had remembered and loved her father and mother—as one -of the elements of her life’s joy. - -When she returned, she had met him with the fond and free affection of a -sister for an only brother. - -And when she had been at home a week, and Magnus had found opportunity -and courage, and led the beautiful and happy girl to a shady nook in the -twilight parlor, and told her with the burning eloquence of passion how -long, how deeply, how greatly he had loved her; how she had been at once -his one memory and his one hope—his incentive, his dream, his -inspiration, his guiding star, Elsie heard him with undisguised -astonishment at his earnestness and enthusiasm, and wondered to herself -where it all came from. And when he, full of doubt and fear, for her -free and unembarrassed manner discouraged him, begged her to give him -answer, she replied, without the slightest hesitation or -embarrassment—nay, even in her native, gladsome, confident manner—that -he need not have given himself so much anxiety; that of course everybody -knew they were going to be married; didn’t their lands join? and, of -course, she had never even thought of retreating. - -Now you may think from that speech that Elsie was a sadly heartless and -mercenary and calculating little baggage. She was as far as possible -from being that. She was a fresh, innocent, totally inexperienced girl, -who repeated, parrot-like, the sentiments of those around her. - -Magnus knew that, and caught her, strained her to his bosom, pressed -kisses on her brow, her cheeks, her lips, in the delirious joy of “first -and passionate love.” And Elsie broke from his arms and ran from the -room suffused with blushes, trembling with a strange, painful, blissful -tumult. All that evening Elsie wandered about upstairs, or sat dreaming, -half in terror, half in joy, until her mother came in and asked of what -she was thinking so deeply? - -Elsie started, and blushed violently. - -Alice took both her hands and gazed deeply into her face. - -At that earnest and tender mother’s gaze, the tears sprung into Elsie’s -eyes, and then, as struck by something ludicrous in herself or her -position, Elsie laughed. - -Alice pressed her hands, and released them, saying: - -“It is time to dress, my dear Elsie, your father expects you in the -parlor. Let me fix your hair; it is in sad disorder.” And she smoothed -and twined the rich ringlets around her fingers, letting them drop in -long tendrils of golden auburn. - -And then she arranged her dress of purple cashmere, and they went below -to the lighted parlor, where General Garnet and Magnus awaited them. The -general and Magnus were engaged in a political discussion, but Magnus -broke off and came at once to meet them. - -Elsie, with a bright blush, turned away and walked to a distant table, -where she ensconced herself with her tambour frame. - -But from that day Elsie gradually changed. She kept out of the way of -Magnus most sedulously. The courtship became a regular hunt. All Magnus’ -ingenuity was employed in devising how he could circumvent Elsie’s arch -and saucy prudery, and entrap her into a little lover’s talk or walk. -And all Elsie’s tact was engaged in devising means to avoid without -offending Magnus. - -And so days went on, until one day it fell like ice upon the warm heart -of Magnus, that Elsie might not love him except as a brother; and oh! he -thought of her first, free, fond, sisterly affection for him, until the -evening upon which he first declared his passion, and then of her calm -agreement to marry him because their lands joined, and her cold -avoidance of him ever since. “Yes,” he said to himself, “it is too true. -Elsie does not love me. I am wooing an unwilling bride. Shall I continue -to do so? Shall I marry her and seal her misery? No, my God! No, though -she is the first and last hope of my life, I will resign her if that -will make her happy.” And so Magnus suddenly abandoned the pursuit of -Elsie, and grew thoughtful, sorrowful, pale, and weary-looking. - -Then he absented himself from Mont Calm for several days. Elsie did not -grow pale or thin; she was too sanguine for that; but she became uneasy, -then anxious, then restless, and would walk about looking silently from -the windows, particularly the back windows that overlooked the forest -road leading down to the Hollow; or looking into her father’s or her -mother’s face with an anxious, appealing look of silent inquiry. If the -door-bell were rung, she would start violently, pause breathlessly, turn -very pale, ask eagerly of the servant who returned, “who was that?” The -answer, “Judge Jacky Wylie,” or “Marse Roebuck” caused her to sink back -in her seat, disappointed and blushing with mortification. And yet only -two or three days had passed; but then Magnus had been in the habit of -coming twice a day, and staying over night; and two or three days seems -to a young, impatient heart like two or three eternities. - -At last General Garnet, in the blackest rage and the brightest smile, -put a pair of pistols in his pocket, mounted his magnificent black -war-horse Death, and rode down to Hemlock Hollow, with the deliberate -intention of courteously inquiring into Dr. Hardcastle’s motives of -conduct, and blowing his brains out if the answer should not prove -satisfactory. Not that he sympathized with Elsie, or believed in broken -hearts, but that he had a saving faith in the junction of estates, and a -high respect for the “honor of his house.” - -He found Magnus looking sallow and haggard, and immediately surmised -that he had been ill, reproached him in a polite, gentlemanly way for -not having informed his friends of his indisposition, and finally hoped -that he had recovered. - -Magnus pleaded guilty to illness, and much care and anxiety, and spoke -of the pain that enforced absence from Elsie gave him. Not for the world -would Magnus have hinted that Elsie’s coldness had driven him away, and -that despair had made him ill; he knew too well that such a -communication would be visited with great severity by her father upon -the head of Elsie. And he judged rightly—General Garnet’s heart was set -on the marriage of those two joining plantations. If Magnus had backed -out, he would have shot him like a dog. If Elsie had retreated, he would -have turned her out of doors. If both had broken off, by mutual consent, -he would have—Satan only knows what he would not have done. - -As it was now, he was perfectly satisfied with Magnus, insisted that he -should come over the day of the ball, if not before, received his -promise to do so, and took leave. - - - - - CHAPTER XVII. - THE BALL—THE UNEXPECTED GUEST. - - There was a sound of revelry by night. - ... and bright - The lamps shone o’er fair women and brave men; - A thousand hearts beat happily, and when - Music arose with its voluptuous swell, - Soft eyes looked love to eyes that spoke again, - And all went merry as a marriage bell! - But hush! hark! - _—Byron._ - - -The day of the ball arrived. People had been invited for twenty miles -around. Apartments had been prepared for the guests who, coming from a -distance, would be likely to remain all night. From an early hour in the -afternoon carriages began to arrive, and the men-servants had enough to -do in stabling the horses and putting away the vehicles; while the -maid-servants were employed in showing the company to their dressing -rooms, and attending upon them there. - -Magnus came early in the afternoon, in order to have a private -conversation with Mrs. Garnet, to whom he intended to open his heart -fully. - -He asked for her as soon as he arrived, and was immediately shown up -into her bed chamber, into which both Alice and her daughter had been -crowded by the incoming of their guests. As he entered, Alice came -forward with a smile to meet him. Elsie started violently, colored -brightly, and, ere anyone could prevent her, even if they had wished, -flew from the room. - -As she flew by him, Magnus fixed one passionate reproachful look upon -her, and said, in a hurried voice: - -“Fear nothing, Elsie! I will never trouble you.” - -Alice, still smiling, pointed him to a chair. He sat down, dropped his -forehead upon his hands for a moment, sighed heavily, looked up, and -opened his story. He told Alice that he had discovered, to his eternal -sorrow, that Elsie did not love him, that though to resign her was like -resigning his hope of heaven, yet every principle of justice and honor -obliged him to do so; he concluded by asking her opinion as to the best -manner of breaking this affair to General Garnet, so as to shield Elsie -from his indignation. - -“And so you wish to give Elsie up?” - -“Wish!” and Magnus dropped his forehead into his palms with a groan that -might have started all the house, had they been listening. Then, lifting -his head up again, he said sternly, almost fiercely: - -“Listen! If Elsie loved me, not all the power of earth or of hell—or—God -forgive me!—I had nearly said of heaven—should sever her from me! not -you—not her father—not herself—if only she loved me! But she does not, -and it is all over.” - -“And who told you she did not love you?” inquired Alice, smiling at his -vehemence, and sighing as her thoughts flew back to the past, when she -was resigned in spite of herself. “Who told you that Elsie did not -return your love?” - -With a gesture of despair Magnus recounted all that had passed between -himself and Elsie, and ended, as he had begun, with a groan, dropping -his head upon his hands. - - “Puir human bodies are sic’ fules, - Wi’ a’ their colleges and schules, - That when nae real ills perplex ’em, - They mak eno’ themsel’s to vex ’em,” - -sang Alice; then said: - -“Oh, Magnus! with all your knowledge—with your classic, and mathematic, -and philosophic, and metaphysic learning—with all your knowledge, not to -know a young girl’s heart better than that! Oh, Magnus! ‘with all your -getting, get wisdom, get understanding.’” - -“Alice, Cousin Alice! Do you mean to intimate what sometimes I have -madly hoped—that I have been mistaken, that Elsie does——” - -“That Elsie loves you a thousandfold more now, that she avoids you, than -she did while she laughed, and talked, and romped with you. Oh, man! you -should have found this out for yourself, and not have put me to the -shame of betraying my child. And now, never let me hear another word of -your self-sacrificing resignation of Elsie’s hand, or I shall take you -at your word, as she would do now, for I don’t believe in it. I have -more faith in the cruelest demonstrations of a downright, honest, -sincere, human passion than in all the self-martyrizing resignation in -the world!” said Alice, with a strange asperity, for her thoughts flew -back again to the past. “Go, Magnus! You will find Elsie in the -ballroom. Go, Magnus; I love you, or I never would have said all that I -have said to you.” - -Magnus seized the hand of Alice, pressed it to his heart, to his lips, -and darted from the room in search of his betrothed. - -He found her in the large saloon, described in the beginning of this -story as occupying the whole of the righthand wing of the house. She was -standing at a table, arranging a large bouquet in a marble vase. He -stole softly up behind her, and, restraining the impetuous force of his -emotions, passed his arm gently around her waist, and drew her—so -gently!—to his heart. And Elsie’s head sank upon his shoulder. He raised -her chin and kissed her—still so gently!—as fearing to startle her shy -trust and again frighten her away. So gently, and trembling all over, -for in his bosom he held a young tornado in check. At last she moved to -withdraw herself from his arms; he pressed her once more to his bosom, -printed one more kiss upon her lips, and let her go. So quiet and so -silent was their reconciliation. - -He stood there where she left him in a happy trance, until the company -began to drop in one by one, and in couples, and trios, and in small -parties. - -And then he wandered on by himself. He strolled down the shaded avenue, -and through the gate, and over the burnished hills, now brown with the -sear wind of November, under the cold deep-blue starlit skies, wrapped -in a blissful dream, until the sudden peal of music from the house awoke -him. - -He turned to retrace his steps, and now saw the whole south wing blazing -with light, and the sprite-like figures of the dancers as they flitted -by the illuminated windows. He hastened back, entered the house, hurried -to the little room always kept sacred to his use, arranged his toilet, -and went below. - -He entered the ballroom, which was resplendent and joyous with light, -and music, and gay and brilliant company. Magnus slowly made his way -through the crowd in search of his ladylove, but nodding, smiling, -shaking hands, according to the degree of his acquaintance with the -individuals that made up the company. - -Judge Jacky was there in great force—superb in a blue velvet coat, white -satin vest, and smallclothes. - -And Ambrosia Wylie was there, too. Miss Ambush, as the colored folk -perverted her pretty name. Oh, well named both ways, for she had grown -up the most alluring _ignis-fatuus_ that ever drew men on an elf chase -through brambles and quagmires. - -She had already drawn General Garnet on to ask her to dance! General -Garnet, the proud, the stern, the majestic, the unbendable, is actually -bending over her with his most seraphic smile, and a gaze that might -melt all the icebergs in the Northern Ocean—and she has raised her -languishing eyes, with the look of a gratified angel, and she has given -her hand, and he, still shining upon her with that sunlike smile, is -leading her to the head of the cotillion. - -In the meantime, Magnus found his ladylove. She was sitting at the -farthest extremity of the room, the center of a circle of sprightly -young people, who were eagerly engaged in asking her questions -concerning her residence abroad, London, the court, the king, etc., -etc., and as eagerly listening to her replies. As Magnus gently broke -through this circle, and approached her side, with a smile, her eyes -fell and her color rose. - -Her young friends, with a smile, a laugh, or an arch glance, dropped -off, one by one, leaving the lovers alone. - -And now Elsie’s eyes were dropped to the ground, and her color mounted -to her temples. - -At the same moment a young gentleman came up and asked the pleasure of -her hand in the next quadrille. - -Elsie, with a start, and a sigh of relief, suffered him to lead her -forth to the head of the cotillion. - -I am sure Dr. Hardcastle was unconscious of the angry flush and fierce -glance with which he followed the meanderings of the young couple -through the mazes of the dance. - -Not so Elsie. With many a swift, furtive glance she detected the angry -passion of her lover’s face, and felt self-reproach enough to bewilder -her movements. Never had beautiful Elsie danced with less grace, and -never had she been so glad when the set was over. - -Her partner led her to a seat, distant from the one he had taken her -from, took his seat by the side of her, and held her in conversation -that made her more fidgety than before. - -Poor Elsie was at length relieved by Judge Jacky, who, seeing her -distress and embarrassment, came up, and taking my gentleman by the arm, -and saying to him: “There is a very lovely woman who would not be averse -to dancing the next set with you; come, let me introduce you to her,” -marched him off to dance with a tall, thin young lady of sixty-five. - -Dr. Hardcastle now left his position across the room, and, walking -leisurely, came up to Elsie, and dropped slowly into the seat just -vacated. - -And at that very instant, as if to try his patience to the utmost, up -came Ulysses Roebuck, and holding out his hand, in quite a confident -way, informed Elsie that he intended to confer upon her the glory and -the joy of being his partner in the next set. - -Elsie glanced at Magnus, shook her head, and laughed lightly. - -Ulysses persisted, affirming that indeed he was in earnest, and did not -mean to humbug her; that he really had reserved the honor and the -pleasure of his hand in the next cotillion for her, and her alone. That -his uncle had selected a very charming partner for him, whom he had -declined, in consideration of her. - -Elsie laughed a little, and told him she feared “the honor and the -pleasure” was only offered to her in order to pique Ambrosia. - -Whereupon Roebuck began to vow and protest, but in the midst of his -vociferous asseverations, he happened to spy Ambrosia sitting down, -quite exhausted, quite alone, apparently quite disengaged, for the first -time during the evening, and Ulysses suddenly sped off toward her, in -order to secure her at once—for the dance?—no, for a good, rousing -quarrel. - -“Why did you not dance with Ulysses?” inquired Magnus of Elsie. - -She threw a swift glance to his face, then dropped her eyes, and -replied, in a low tone: - -“I shall not dance again to-night.” - -“Why?” he asked, taking her hand, and seeming to study its deep beauty. -“Why will you not dance again to-night?” - -But she colored so deeply, and looked so distressed, that he desisted -from questioning her. - -At last Elsie of herself said, in a very low voice: - -“Mother told me not to dance, unless it were to make up a set that could -not otherwise be completed.” - -“But I do not understand why you should have been warned against your -favorite amusement, Elsie?” - -“Why, lest by filling up one place in the cotillion, I might keep some -young lady from dancing,” replied she. But then, as though spurning -disingenuousness, she added: “But that was not the only reason I refused -Ulysses.” Then pausing, and making a great effort over herself, she -added, in a very low and tremulous voice: “It was because you looked so -annoyed while I was dancing with Mr. Brent.” - -The light of an unutterable joy shone on the face of Magnus. He caught -her hand with a strong, almost crushing clasp—his bosom heaved—his eyes -kindled and smoldered. He stooped his lips near Elsie’s ear to whisper -something, but her cheek blazed. - -And just then a slight bustle at the other extremity of the room -attracted their attention. Exclamations of astonishment, joy, and wonder -were intermingled with many words of cordial greeting, and of hearty -welcoming. Above all noises were heard the jocund tones of old Mr. -Hardcastle. The bustle widened in the crowd, like eddies in the water -where a stone had just been cast, and the crowd seemed to be swayed -toward the place where our lovers sat. The center of this crowd was a -young man of rather effeminate, but exceeding personal beauty, tall, and -slightly, but elegantly proportioned, with Grecian features, a fair, -roseate complexion, golden hair, and light, soft, hazel eyes. He was -receiving, and gracefully and graciously acknowledging, the _devoirs_ of -all around him, who were also moving with him towards Magnus and Elsie. -As he drew near, they both simultaneously exclaimed: - -“My Cousin Lionel!” - -“Lionel Hardcastle!” - -And both eagerly started forward, holding out their hands, in joyful -welcome, before even thinking of the miracle of his advent. - -Lionel at first shook hands with Magnus, then, seeming to yield to a -sudden and irresistible impulse, folded him to his heart in a close -brotherly embrace. - -He then took Elsie’s hand, bowed over it gracefully, raised it tenderly -to his lips, when Elsie exclaimed: - -“Oh, my dear old playmate, I am so glad! so glad! that you were not lost -after all!” threw herself into his arms. - -The youth’s eye and cheek kindled with a hectic flush, as he pressed the -innocent, affectionate girl for an instant to his bosom, and released -her to turn and see Magnus grasp her arm with no very gentle hand, and -lead her away. To the many eager questions of “When did you arrive?” -“Where from?” “How did you escape?” “Where have you been all this time?” -put to him by the astonished crowd as soon as they recovered sufficient -strength, Lionel replied: - -“To-morrow, to-morrow, I will tell you all about it.” - -“That you shan’t! you shan’t tell for a week. It is enough, good Heaven, -to have you among us. No more questions shall be asked or answered for a -week!” exclaimed Judge Wylie, in a magisterial tone, and the company -understood that they had been wearying a fatigued traveler, and -desisted. - -It was late when the ball broke up. And Judge Jacky, who seemed -possessed with a spirit of jollity, resolved to follow up this party by -one of his own. Accordingly, that very night, he improvised the “time, -place, and circumstance” of a ball, and availed himself of the -opportunity afforded by the presence of so many of his familiar friends, -to give out rather informal verbal invitations. When all the company had -departed, a cloud remained upon the brow of General Garnet. He spoke -coldly to Magnus, in reply to his “good-night,” as the latter left the -house. Alice looked deeply distressed. Elsie glanced from father to -mother with a vague presentiment of impending evil. - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII. - THE NEW-FOUND HEIR. - - _Ernest._—Which is the bridegroom? - _Wilhelm._—Marry! the heir. - _—Newman._ - - -Magnus had returned home with his cousin. The next day the family from -the Hollow dined at Mount Calm, by invitation. General Garnet was still -cold and reserved to Magnus, but showed the most marked attention to -Lionel. This at first surprised Dr. Hardcastle; but soon, with a haughty -curl of the lip, he thought: - -“I see how it is; fortune has changed. I have lost an inheritance.” - -After dinner Lionel told a tale of an Algerine cruiser, of a long -captivity, of a hair-breadth escape, but left as vague an impression of -reality upon the minds of his hearers as it leaves now upon the minds of -my readers. They did not doubt his story, but they could not well -connect the effeminate beauty of the man with any life of -pirate-adventure and slavery hardships. - -Elsie was saddened for the first time in her life, and she scarcely knew -wherefore. During the short estrangement between herself and her lover -she had been nervous, anxious, excitable; now she was depressed. She -loved her mother very tenderly; she loved her father passionately; and -Magnus she loved—oh, how shall I say?—with an infinite future -reservation. But now she saw a cloud—she was too guileless to know -wherefore—settle and deepen, dark, cold, and chill, between her lover -and her father; and the happy, buoyant Elsie grew pensive and -thoughtful. General Garnet, with all his coldness, was studiously -polite; and Magnus was self-possessed and social. - -As this day passed—as far as the relative positions of some of the -parties were concerned—so passed the weeks, and brought the day upon -which Judge Wylie’s party was to be given. - -There was a heavy cloud of thought and care upon the brow of General -Garnet; and those who knew him well surmised that he was considering the -best manner of transferring the hand of the heiress of Mount Calm from -the poor doctor to the rich heir of Hemlock Hollow. - -Magnus continued his visits, as usual, undisturbed by the freezing -exterior of General Garnet. - -Alice always received him with affection; and Elsie’s manner to him was -earnest, affectionate, deferential, as if she wished to make up for her -father’s coldness. She was no longer shy and diffident. It seemed as if -the presentiment of some impending misfortune, which she felt rather -than understood, had thrown down the barriers of her reserve, and that -she could not do too much, in her sweet, feminine way, to assure Magnus -of her unchangeable affection and unswerving truth. Her eyes waited on -him, shyly, all day long, for her maiden pride was self-subdued, but not -her maidenly delicacy. Elsie had no suspicion of what her father really -meant until the morning of the day upon which Judge Wylie’s ball was to -be given. General Garnet called Elsie into his room, and having -explained in his polite way—he was polite even to his child—that -circumstances beyond all human calculation or control had rendered it -expedient that a new adjustment of affairs should take place, and that -she must no longer look upon Magnus Hardcastle in the light of a suitor -for her hand, but must, on the contrary, prepare herself to think of, -and accept, Lionel Hardcastle, to whom he had given permission to visit -her—Elsie opened wide her eyes in undisguised astonishment, that her -father, her revered father, should ask her to break her plighted faith; -but without one atom of terror, and without an instant’s hesitation, she -answered: - -“Why, father, being engaged to Magnus, with yours and mother’s consent, -I would no more forsake him now than if I were already his wedded wife.” - -“We shall see, Miss Garnet. I will give you time,” replied the General, -in his soft, but sarcastic, manner. - -“Father,” said Elsie, her cheek burning with shame and indignation, “if -I should give you to suppose that any lapse of time could alter my -determination, I should be a coward or a hypocrite. Father, I would not -have engaged myself without your consent and my mother’s, for I should -have felt that to be wrong; but having engaged myself with your consent -and blessing, I will not break that engagement, come what may. I -promised, with your approbation, to give my hand to Dr. Hardcastle on -Thursday week, and Thursday week, father, I must do it. Dr. Hardcastle -has lost an inheritance; an event which he rejoices in, since it gives -his uncle back a dearly beloved and long-lost son. But he must not lose -his wife, father; he shall not.” - -General Garnet stood like one thunderstruck. His wife had never ventured -to oppose his will, except - - “To plead, lament, and sue,” - -to avert some cruel deed. His servants had ever trembled before him. His -very neighbors and associates had fallen into the habit of yielding to -his inflexible will; and here was a little girl of seventeen years of -age, with positively her own notions of right and wrong, of faith and -infidelity, of honor and dishonor—and telling him, with a high, -unblanching cheek, and a clear, unfaltering voice, that she meant to -abide by right, and eschew wrong! He turned pale with suppressed rage; -his eyes gleamed with their sinister light; he clenched his fist, and -made one step towards her, but retreated again, and dropped his hand. -The polished “gentleman” asserted its supremacy of habit over the angry -“man.” It would not be _comme-il-faut_ for “General Garnet” to give -“Miss Garnet” a good drubbing with his fists; besides, there was a look -of calm, healthful moral strength about the mere child that forcibly -impressed him. - -“Father, this thing came suddenly upon me, and surprised me out of my -self-possession, and the respect that is due to you. I spoke hastily, -and, I fear, irreverently. I earnestly repent it, and ask your pardon. -Forgive me,” said Elsie; and she approached, and would have offered -herself in his embrace; but General Garnet extended his hand, and waved -her off. - -“Do I understand you to say, Miss Garnet, that you repent your foolish -decision? If so, I am sincerely rejoiced to hear it.” - -“No, sir. Always, father, and in all else, I will be your submissive -child. But for this, sir, you, yourself, laid on me this other duty, -which I cannot shake off. Forgive me.” - -General Garnet looked at her steadily, while gleamed that red light from -his dark eyes, and slowly shook his head, as communing with himself. -Then, turning suddenly, and muttering something that sounded very much -like a threat to “break her will or break her heart,” he left the room; -and Elsie sank down in her chair, and leaning upon the windowsill, -raised her eyes to heaven, “full of thought and prayer.” - - - - - CHAPTER XIX. - THE DEVOTION OF LOVE. - - Oh! sweeter far than wealth, than fame, than all, - Is first and passionate love; it stands alone. - _—Byron._ - - -There was a much larger, but not so select, a company invited by the -genial, social Judge Jacky than that assembled by the proud and reserved -General Garnet. And by “early candle light”—the country hour for -assembling for a ball—the whole house—parlors, chambers, family rooms, -and saloon—were crowded to overflowing. The dining room only was kept -shut up, for there the two long tables were to be set for supper. The -saloon, or “big room,” as it is plainly called in old-fashioned country -houses, was blazing with light and splendor, and pealing with music, and -alive with young men and maidens in ball dresses, laughing, talking, -wooing, flirting, dancing. It was something like General Garnet’s ball -on a larger and somewhat coarser scale, it must be confessed, but then -it was such a joyous, jubilant, exultant scene! The young folks laughed, -and talked, and danced, and jested with so much gladness and freedom! -And Judge Jacky moved about laughing, talking, joking, gallanting all -the ugly old maids, making love to all the low-spirited old widows, -flattering and complimenting all the plain girls, encouraging all -shamefaced young gentlemen, and electrifying into jocund life all the -“flat, stale, and unprofitable” folks in the joyous company. - -But it is not with the gay and thoughtless of that merry throng that we -have to do, but with our great-hearted Magnus and our dear Elsie. You -know at this moment, just as well as I do, that they both had too much -on their minds to think of dancing. They had each come to the ball -chiefly to meet the other and have a talk. General Garnet would -willingly have kept Elsie away, but he did not think it polite to offend -Judge Wylie by doing so. But one thing he had taken care to do—to send -for Lionel Hardcastle to escort her there. And Lionel had ridden in the -carriage alone with Elsie from Mount Calm to Point Pleasant, and had had -every opportunity of pursuing a courtship that he had commenced almost -from the first evening of his return. Elsie cut him short in the midst -of one of his finest speeches by telling him that he was making love to -his cousin’s wife—or to one who would be so on Thursday week! Yes, Elsie -compelled herself to say exactly that to Lionel, to crush his hopes at -once. On reaching the house at Point Pleasant, Elsie said aloud to -Magnus, who came out to meet them: - -“Dr. Hardcastle, help me to thank your cousin for the kind manner in -which he has supplied your place in attending me here,” and, bowing -courteously to Lionel, she took the arm of Magnus and entered the -saloon. - -They were now seated at the farthest extremity of the vast saloon, -within the bay window. Elsie was looking very beautiful this evening. -She was dressed in a gossamer white crape, over white satin. Her snowy -arms and neck were bare, and encircled by diamond bracelets and -necklace. She was always beautiful, but now her usually happy, joyous -face was softened and deepened into an expression of serious thought and -feeling ineffably charming. - -They had been conversing. Elsie had told him all that had passed between -herself and her father. And Magnus had recounted a similar scene that -had taken place between himself and General Garnet. He had, as Elsie -had, asserted his determination to abide by their betrothal. He repeated -the same thing to Elsie now. It was this—this saving of her heart’s -fondest hopes amid the crash of fortune—that made Elsie feel and look so -very blessed. - -They were still conversing. He raised her hand—she had an exquisitely -beautiful hand, elegantly shaped, and white as snow, and now diamond -rings sparkled upon it; appropriate ornaments for it, as one may see. -Well, he raised that small, white, jeweled hand, and looking tenderly, -half-remorsefully upon it, said—and his voice was full-toned and -melodious with love and sorrow: - -“This tiny, snow-white hand, sparkling with diamonds—this fresh, pure, -delicate thing!—a jewel itself!—how can it be put to the uses to which -my wife’s hand must be put, Elsie?” - -She looked at him with passionate devotion, saying: - -“Take the jewels off and cast them from thee, Magnus—do!” - -“And this slender wrist—you have such a beautiful arm, Elsie! What a -round, full, graceful curve from the elbow to the forearm, and how -elegantly it tapers off to the slender wrist! Ah! this arm, so pure and -fresh, so well decked with this sparkling diamond bracelet—like icicles -upon snow! How will it support labor?” - -“The bracelet offends you, too? It was my father’s birthday gift; but I -like it no longer—it offends you. Take it off and cast it from you. -Press your thumb and finger around my arm instead. Press it tightly, so -that you will leave a ring there. It will be a red bracelet—or even a -black one; so that when I can no longer see you, I may close my eyes, -and, feeling the impress of your fingers, cheat my heart with the fancy -that you still grasp my wrist with a sweet violence. It will be another -dearer bracelet that I will wear in remembrance of you. Oh, don’t you -know I understand now the enthusiasm of the saints?” - -“Dearest Elsie, let us go forth from here. The light, the glare, the -crowd, the noise here is insufferable. Let us go forth in the fresh air -under the light of the holy stars. Come, love! My heart hungers, faints, -to press you to itself. Come, love!” And opening a leaf of the bay -window, he led her forth. It was a mild, clear, beautiful starlight -night for the season, yet the air was chill, and Elsie was lightly clad. -He looked at her and glanced around. The lighted window of a sitting -room in the angle of the building showed that apartment to be vacant. He -led her there. It was one of those small, conical wainscoted parlors so -common in old houses. A fine fire was burning in the chimney, and a -little old-fashioned green settee drawn up on one side of the fireplace. -The room had an air of delightful snugness, comfort, and repose. He led -her to this sofa and seated himself beside her, opened his arms, and -whispered: “Come to my bosom, my own soul’s love!” and folded her -closely there. “Elsie, my pure, fresh, delicate, elegant Elsie, can you -go with me indeed to share my lot of poverty and struggle? Oh, Elsie! if -you do, will you never repent? Oh, Elsie! do you know what poverty is? -Born and brought up in luxury and wealth, do you know what poverty is? -Oh, Elsie, my little idealist, there is no poetry in poverty. Oh, Elsie, -my little epicurienne, every sense is shocked and tortured in poverty. -You see unsightly things, you hear discordant sounds, you come in -contact with roughness, you partake of coarse food; oh, Elsie! ideality -is wounded and saddened, sense is shocked, and love itself, perhaps, -revolted!” - -“Never! oh, never!” she said fervently. - -“Oh, Elsie! my bright, beautiful Elsie! my delicate, elegant Elsie! I am -worse than an executioner to marry you. I feel it, and yet I shall do -it. God knows that I will have you, and let the future take care of -itself!” he said, pressing her strongly to his bosom. - -“Yes, have me, have me; let me be always with you. It will be bliss -ineffable. I should die if you were to leave me. My heart would consume -itself in its own fires. I do not care for wealth, or rank, or -distinction, or for ease or luxury. I only care for the wealth and -luxury of your affection, and your constant society. I do not fear to -have ‘ideality wounded and saddened.’ No, for the soul creates its own -poetry. I do not fear to have every sense shocked. I do not fear to live -amid unsightly objects and discordant sounds, and rough contacts; oh, -no, for the soul creates its own heaven of beauty and harmony. I do not -fear to have love revolted. Oh! no, no, no! I only fear a separation -from you. My whole being trembling, tends toward you—so strong, as it -would lose itself in you. Shut out the world, shut out light and sound, -only let me feel your arms around me, pressing my bosom to your heart as -now. All my life is compressed within my heart, and it is bursting to -meet yours. I am blind, deaf, dead to all but you. I have scarcely self -enough to say ‘I have no self.’ I love myself in you. Oh, my greater -self! my larger life!” - -So the softly flushed and moist cheeks, the heavy, liquid eyes, and the -palpitating bosom said, but no word escaped the parted and glowing lips. -Nor could a word have escaped between the kisses that were pressed upon -them. Then he released her, and they sat upon the old-fashioned sofa by -the glowing hickory fire in the old wainscoted parlor, and, hand in -hand, talked. Oh, how they talked! Sometimes with profound earnestness, -sometimes with light and bantering gayety. - -“Yet you have had many admirers, Elsie,” said Magnus. - -“Have I?” she asked. - -“Oh, Elsie, you know that you have.” - -“I try not to know it.” - -“Why, dearest?” - -“Because I wish I was an Eastern bride for you. Oh, yes! I wish that I -had been reared in conventual seclusion, that no man’s eye had seen me -until my husband came to claim me; that, then, I could have gone apart -from the world and seen only him. That would have been exquisite; that -would have been blissful; for I do not want admiration; I want only your -heart’s approval! There would be such intense and concentrated joy in -knowing only you. My joy would be diluted if my heart were divided among -many.” - -“But your numerous admirers, dearest?” - -“Oh, my numerous admirers! I did not finesse when I asked you if I -really had any; for, in truth, my ‘admirers’ never came near enough to -me to breathe their admiration.” - -“Why was that? How was that? Tell me.” - -“Look in my eyes, love, and read your answer there. Peruse my heart, -love. It lies open to you as a book.” - -“Nay, tell me. I love to hear you talk. It delights me to listen to you. -Tell me now. It is some sweet secret that will give me heaven to know. -Come, love, be generous. Breathe the secret out upon my bosom,” he -whispered softly, and drew her again to his heart. “Come, love——” - -“Yes, I will. I will repress this feeling of reluctance, and tell you -all my thoughts. Yes, for surely I feel you have a right to have an -answer to any question you ask me, my higher self. Listen, then. Bend -low, for I shall whisper very low, lest the air around should hear me. -When you first drew me on to love you, when leaf by leaf my heart -unfolded and developed under the life-giving warmth of your eyes, of -your touch, just as a rose buds and blossoms under the rays of its -sovereign, the sun—my heart, I mean, or something rising within -it—taught me many mysteries that neither prophet, priest, nor sage could -have taught me. Among other things, it revealed to me the knowledge of -all that would please and all that would displease you in myself, and -impelled me to follow the first and eschew the last. It made me wish to -isolate myself for you. It killed the very first germ of vanity in my -heart, and made me wish that none should come near enough to me to know -whether I were beautiful or otherwise, far less so near as to tell me of -it. It made me shrink from all those little gallantries from gentlemen -which make up so large a portion of a belle’s life. I was so afraid of -being found unworthy of you when you should take me. I should not have -felt good enough for you if my hand, that awaited your hand, had been -squeezed and kissed, and my waist, that awaited the dear girdle of this -arm—fold it closer around me now—had been pressed, and I, your expectant -bride, had been twined and whirled about in the giddy waltz. But none of -these things have happened to me. I come to you almost an Oriental bride -for exclusiveness, and that makes me so happy. I should have else been -unhappy, should else have been unworthy of you.” - -All this was murmured slowly, softly, dreamily, as though the truth -stole out of a slumbering heart, while she lay upon his bosom, and the -last words were breathed forth in an almost inaudible sigh. But he -answered with passionate vehemence, clasping her to his heart: - -“Unworthy of me! You! so beautiful! so good! so intellectual!—save when -your highest intellect is whelmed in feeling!—yet, no—your highest -intelligence—your spirit—is never so whelmed! You, the heiress of the -haughtiest family in Maryland—and I—who am I?” - -“My greater self! my life-giver!—by these titles only I know you. Does -my rank and fortune offend you? Pluck me away from them; for I am yours. -Bury me with yourself, in some lone forest cabin, in the wilderness, -whither your footsteps tend; and there my hunter’s wife will forget the -world, while preparing the cabin for his return at eve. And she will not -think the hours of his absence long, for they will be filled with -fervent thoughts of him. Oh, that hunter’s lodge in the wild! I see it -even in my dreams!” - -And this was not romance; but the passionate fanaticism of first, of -early love. - -“Oh, Elsie! how you talk!” he exclaimed, gazing on her eloquent face -with wonder, reverence, and passion. - -She blushed deeply, and bowed her crimson brow upon his bosom, -murmuring: - -“Do I? I am sorry. I suppose maidens do not talk so; do they?” - -“I do not know how maidens do or should talk, any more than you do,” -answered Magnus, and then a singular expression passed over his -countenance. He bent his gaze upon her, with a look of profound thought -and searching inquiry, as though to read the depths of that heart she -had so freely laid open to his perusal. And he said, very seriously: “I -do not know how maidens talk, for I have spoken with but one maiden -before of love.” He paused and gazed down deeply into her eyes, as if to -read her most hidden thought and feeling—possibly he expected to see -some trace of jealousy there—he saw only the calm, profound repose of -love, deep joy, and infinite trust. He resumed: “I never talked with but -one maiden of love before; she was my first love.” Again he looked down, -and saw upon her beautiful face the same ineffable peace. He continued: -“I loved her passionately. I lost her. It nearly maddened me.” For the -last time he gazed down upon her, as she lay quietly over his arm, with -her face turned up to his, but her whole countenance radiated with a -sort of calm, rapt ecstasy, as though she were then in the possession of -all the bliss possible on earth. He gazed for a moment, full of -astonishment, and then quietly asked: “Is it possible that this gives -you no uneasiness, my love?” - -“Does what?” - -“The thought of my first love.” - -“No, dearest. Why should it?” - -“‘Why should it?’ What a question. Why should it not?” - -“I don’t know, I am sure. When I do, I’ll tell you.” - -“Yet,” said Magnus thoughtfully, “though the idea of my having had a -first love gives you no pain, you felicitated yourself and me very much -upon the fact of your having had no other lover.” - -“Oh, that was a very different thing. Don’t you feel that it was?” - -“Yes; I feel it. But tell me now—think—why is it that the thought of my -first love does not distress you?” - -“Indeed, I do not know at all. I only know by the sure inspiration of my -soul, and feel in every nerve of my body, that you love me; and I am so -ineffably blessed.” - -“My darling Elsie!” he said, joyously kissing the lids down upon her two -sweet eyes. “My darling Elsie, you are not selfish or jealous for -yourself at all. I only wished to probe your heart a little. You were so -jealous for me that I thought perhaps you might be so for yourself. You -are not, my darling Elsie; my light of life! You are the only woman I -ever loved! Yet, dearest, I told you no fiction. You, yourself, were -‘the maiden to whom I spoke before of love.’ But it was soon after you -returned from school. You, yourself, were the maiden whom I lost,—for a -little while, during our short misunderstanding,—and whose loss nearly -maddened me. Oh, come! enter the heart of hearts, and live there -forever!” He clasped her closer, and they subsided into silence, or -conversed only with their eyes. - -Long, long they remained in that still trance of joy, but at last Elsie -withdrew herself, laughing, from his arms, sat down beside him, and they -began to talk of their future home. He told her it would be indeed a -cabin in the backwoods of Maryland; but not a hunter’s cabin, as she -fancifully supposed. Oh, no! but a country doctor’s dwelling, in a new -settlement. And that he would not return at eve in the hunter’s -picturesque costume, with a gun and a nine-antlered deer across his -shoulders, but upon the back of a stout mule, with a country doctor’s -saddle-bags behind him. How would she like that? - -“Oh, very well, dearest Magnus! for then you will be saving life instead -of taking it. Oh, yes, I do like—I do love—your profession, Magnus. -Since you must have one, I like it better than any other you could have -chosen. I think physicians do more disinterested good than any other set -of men on earth. I will not even except the preachers. Oh, yes! I do -love your profession, dear Magnus, and love you better, if possible, for -being a poor country doctor. God love and bless you! When you shall have -come home tired, from your long round—oh, you shall have sweet repose, -love—indeed you shall! God bids me to assure you that you shall. -Whatever our cabin home may be, I can make it a little haven of repose—a -little heaven of bliss for you. Oh, indeed I do not fear; my whole full -soul assures me that we shall be happy and victorious over fate. Let me -kiss your eyes—you kissed mine just now, so sweetly. God bless those -grand eyes! Oh, Magnus, can a cabin or a garb of homespun hide the -light, the greatness that is in you? Oh, Magnus, I saw a king and -several princes of the blood when I was presented at court by General -Armstrong; but their foreheads were low and receding, their presence had -the strut without the dignity of majesty. Oh, Magnus, their kingly crown -could not have given either that magnificent forehead of yours. Oh, -Magnus, there is something greater in you than any surrounding you can -have. Do not any more dread that I shall be either pained or revolted at -anything in the circumstances of our condition. The rough walls of a log -cabin will not shock or sadden me.” - -“No, darling, for the rough walls of our log cabin, like the rough bark -of an oak tree, has something really picturesque about it; but”—said he, -in a half-sorrowful, half-comic way—“the pots and kettles, the mops and -brooms!” - -“What! the humble little household gods and goddesses that set up no -pretension to worship, or even to honorable mention, and yet confer so -much benefit? No, indeed. I have a kindly feeling for all such. Mine, if -they can’t be beautiful, shall be neat and pretty. Oh, don’t you -remember when we were children, and used to run in out of the snow to -old Aunt Polly’s kitchen, and how she’d press us in to help her every -time she could? Oh, I know a great deal about cooking, and I always had -a turn for housekeeping.” - -He arose, took her hand, and raised her up, and looked at her from head -to foot, as she stood—that delicate, beautiful girl, in her elegant ball -dress of gossamer crape over white satin, diamonds sparkling on her arms -and neck, as he had said, like icicles upon snow. He surveyed her, from -her white rose-wreathed auburn hair to the tip of the white satin -slipper. He clasped her hand, and looked at it. - -“I know,” she said, “what you are thinking of again—‘Elsie must doff -this dress, and this style of dress, for some years to come’; but do not -fear, within ten years, and by the time that the beauty of your love has -matured, Elsie will weave a more elegant dress than this, when her -husband’s talents shall have ‘achieved greatness.’ And this little hand -that you look at so fondly, so sadly—‘this pure, fresh, delicate thing, -a jewel itself,’ as you called it just now—under this soft, white -cushion of flesh are nerves and sinews of steel. I am very strong, dear -Magnus, very strong every way. And I can work; this hand shall toil and -retain its beauty, because you prize it, too.” - -He clasped her again to his breast, and drew her white arms up around -his neck. And then that notion of isolation came upon her again like a -fond superstition, and she whispered: - -“I do not want neighbors or friends where we live, love. I want only -you. I want no one that can take me off from you. It is late. Shall I -go?” - -“Yes, dear love,” she answered, untwining her arms from about his neck. - - - - - CHAPTER XX. - ELSIE IN THE ATTIC. - - To-night, when my head aches indeed, - And I can either think nor read, - And these blue fingers will not hold - The pen—(this attic’s freezing cold)— - I tell you, I pace up and down - This garret, crowned with love’s best crown, - And feasted with love’s perfect feast, - To think I bear for him at least. - _—Browning._ - - -When they re-entered the ballroom the revelry was still at its height. -Six cotillions were on the floor. - -Judge Jacky was flying about, now here and now there, now everywhere at -once. - -Ambrosia Wylie, in a gold-colored satin, that harmonized well with her -warm-hued tone of beauty, sat in the bay window, the sunny center of a -system of satellites. - -General Garnet, who had got through with the political business that -detained him at Huttontown, had just arrived, and was now standing -apart, conversing with Lionel Hardcastle. He frowned darkly on seeing -Elsie enter the room leaning on the arm of Magnus, and both looking so -self-possessed, confident, and happy. - -He smoothed his brow quickly, however, excused himself to Lionel, and -advanced toward them. Bowing slightly to Magnus, he took the arm of -Elsie, and saying that he wished to have a conversation with her, drew -her off for a promenade. - -In going off, Elsie turned, smiled on Magnus, and said: - -“If I do not return in half an hour, Dr. Hardcastle, you must seek me -out,” and, bowing playfully, she went on. - -“Was that done to insult me, Miss Garnet?” - -“No, dearest father, it was done out of respect to Dr. Hardcastle; as -you forgot to excuse yourself to him for taking me off so abruptly, it -would have been scarcely courteous in me to have left him without a -word. We would not have treated a common acquaintance so, father.” - -“A common acquaintance! And pray what more is Dr. Hardcastle entitled -henceforth to be considered?” - -“As my husband, and as your son-in-law, father.” - -General Garnet turned pale, and spoke low, with suppressed rage: - -“Your husband, and my son-in-law! I—would—see—him—and—you—in the lowest -pit of h——l first!” - -Elsie gave a violent start as this awful word struck her like a bullet. -It was the more awful, that Elsie had never known her father to forget -himself so far before. Violence shocked her, profanity revolted her; she -was unaccustomed to either. Her father, even in his tyranny, was -habitually polite. Her mother was ever gentle. Fury, threats, were -strange to her; and now came this terrible burst of passion, the more -terrible for its half suppression. She gazed at him in alarm. His face -was white with anger, but it reminded her of the white ashes upon a -burning coal. He continued in the same deep, stern tone: - -“How dared you even receive that young man’s attentions, after I have -withdrawn my countenance of him?” - -“Father, because his attentions were my right and his right. Who else, -in your absence, could have attended me with so much propriety?” asked -Elsie, trembling in her flesh, but firm in her spirit. - -“Do not commit the impertinence of answering my question by asking -another again, Miss Garnet. A question which, impertinent as it was, I -will answer. ‘Who,’ you inquire, ‘in my absence, could have attended you -with so much propriety?’ I reply, Mr. Lionel Hardcastle, the gentleman -under whose protection I placed you for the evening.” - -“And who wickedly abused his position by addressing the words of love to -one whom he knew to be Dr. Hardcastle’s betrothed wife.” - -“Death! if you say that again,” exclaimed General Garnet, trembling with -fury. - -“And whom,” continued Elsie, frightened, but resolute, “I had therefore -to dismiss as soon as I found Dr. Hardcastle.” - -He grasped her arm with a violence that might have crushed it. He set -his teeth, and drew his breath hard. He could not shake or beat her -there—not in that room full of company—among those hundreds of people. -He could not even let them see the rage that was on the eve of -explosion. - -He looked around. Seeing Lionel Hardcastle at a short distance, he -beckoned him to approach, and, without relinquishing his vise-like grip, -said, in a deep, hurried tone: - -“Do me the favor to call my carriage, sir, instantly, if you please.” - -Lionel opened his soft, bright eyes in a look of wide surprise, turned -on Elsie a gaze of mingled admiration, sorrow, and deprecation, and, -bowing to General Garnet, moved off to comply with his request. - -General Garnet grasped Elsie’s arm with a suppressed fierceness, and -pulled her after him into the hall, thence out into the portico, and -down the steps to the carriage door. Pushing her forcibly in, he jumped -in after, pulled to the door, commanded the coachman to drive rapidly -for Mount Calm, and was soon whirled away on the road to that place. He -maintained a stern silence toward Elsie during the whole ride. - -Arrived at Mount Calm, he sprang from the carriage, took Elsie out, drew -her arm roughly within his own, and pulled her up the steps. - -“Has your mistress retired?” was the first question he asked of the -servant at the door. The man started at the fierce abruptness of his -master’s tone and manner, and replied hurriedly that she had. - -“It is very well. Go wake up the housekeeper; ask her for the keys of -the attic-room, and bring them to me yourself, with a night-lamp.” - -The man hurried away in dismay. And General Garnet remained there, still -with his violent grasp upon Elsie’s arm. When the servant returned with -the bunch of keys and the light: - -“Precede me upstairs, and on up into the attic,” said General Garnet; -and grasping Elsie more tightly, he fiercely hurried her on, till they -reached the first floor, and the wide hall into which the family -chambers opened. - -“Father, this is my chamber door. I wish to retire,” said Elsie, -pointing to the door on her left. But her father hurried her past it. - -The servant was now going up the attic steps, but paused to look down -upon the scene. - -“Father, what are you about to do?” asked Elsie, holding back. Her -attire had been very much disordered by the violence with which she had -been hurried in, her cloak and hood had fallen off below stairs; now her -beautiful dress was tumbled, and her hair in wild disorder. “What are -you going to do, father?” she asked again, drawing back. - -But he turned upon her sharply, shook her furiously, as though he would -have shaken the life from out her; and then seeing the horrified gaze of -the servant standing on the stairs, he exclaimed, “Up into the attic, -and wait for me there, instantly, sirrah. And consider yourself already -sold to a trader, for your insolence in watching me!” - -The appalled servant vanished up the steps, and the unmasked tyrant -turned to Elsie, and tightening the grasp that he had never -relinquished, dragged her to the foot of the attic stairs. Here the girl -sank with all her weight upon him, upheld only by his hand. - -“Up, up the stairs with you!” he exclaimed fiercely. - -Elsie had too much physical strength to swoon, and too much presence of -mind to scream. She would not have terrified her poor mother to no good -purpose. Yet her agitation was so great, with augmented astonishment and -terror, that she could not move. - -He seized her violently, drew her up the stairs until they had reached -the narrow attic passage, and commanding the negro to unlock the door -that stood before them, forced her into the room; dismissed the servant, -locked the door on the inside, and turned upon her. Elsie had dropped -into an old flag-bottomed armchair, where she sat shivering with cold -and fear. He turned upon the delicate and trembling girl fiercely, -scornfully, triumphantly, tauntingly, as if she had been some rough male -adversary in his power. He placed the key in his pocket, buttoned up his -overcoat, and stood looking at her with a bitter, sarcastic laugh, -saying: - -“You have insulted and provoked me sufficiently this evening, Miss -Garnet! You were very happy and confident an hour ago. What do you think -of your prospects now?” - -Elsie shuddered and was silent. - -“Can you escape from this room? Will you jump from one of those windows -and fall a hundred feet? Will your lover find a ladder long enough to -reach you? I think not. Can you break that lock? I think not. Will you -bribe your jailer? I think not; for I shall be your jailer myself. No -one else shall enter this room. And now listen to me,” and taking a -chair, he sat down before her, and said in a hard, harsh voice, “I do -not care one jot for all the miserable, contemptible love sentiment in -the world; I never did! I do not believe in it. I never did! But that -which I want, and that which I will have, is the union of these two -joining estates, Mount Calm and Hemlock Hollow. That project is as dear -to old Mr. Hardcastle as it is to me. It was for that reason, and not -upon account of any trifling, mutual predilection of yours, that we were -about to negotiate a marriage between my daughter and his nephew, when -fortunately Lionel came home in time to arrest the execution of the -plan; of course it was perfectly easy to see what then became the duty -of all parties.” - -“Fidelity,” said Elsie in a low voice. - -General Garnet laughed tauntingly, and continued without further notice -of her reply: - -“The young man who was to inherit the estate was to have the bride. It -mattered nothing to me whether that were Magnus or Lionel; but the hand -of my heiress was to be bestowed upon the heir of Hemlock Hollow. That -was the treaty. So I reminded old Mr. Hardcastle. He remembered that it -really was so, and fully and entirely agreed with me. Young Lionel -Hardcastle is also conformable. You only are contumacious. But I have -pledged myself to your consent, and, by Heaven, you shall redeem my -pledge. Listen, minion! You never leave this room until you leave it as -the wife of Lionel Hardcastle. Curious place for a marriage ceremony! -but, come, it does not matter; we can have the wedding afterward. You -were to be the wife of Dr. Hardcastle, as you very respectfully call -him, on Thursday week. Ha! ha! ha! Come, what do you think of your -prospects of marrying him now?” - -“Father, as far as my marriage with Dr. Hardcastle on Thursday week is -concerned, my fate has gone out of my hands and into God’s! I have no -more to say about that.” - -“Ha! ha! I should think not. Not quite so confident as you were an hour -ago, hey?” - -“But, father, forgive me for reminding you that as far as marriage with -any other person is concerned, that is entirely in my hands for refusal. -Church and State very properly make the bride’s consent an indispensable -preliminary to marriage, and even a vital part of the marriage ceremony. -And my consent can never be gained to marry Lionel.” - -“Ha! my pretty piece of stubbornness, we shall see. Pray, do you -know—have you ever felt the power of solitary imprisonment, cold, and -hunger, in bringing a contumacious girl to docility?” - -Elsie’s face flushed, more for him than herself. - -He continued: - -“For all those mighty engines can I spring upon you! And will I, by -Satan and all his hosts!” - -“Father, you may do that, and nature may faint and succumb to their -power. I am very strong, but those things you threaten me with may be -stronger still. But, father, if ever I am left with strength enough to -stand before the minister with Lionel Hardcastle by my side, when that -minister shall ask me whether I will promise to love, honor, and obey -him till death, I shall answer, ‘No, I do not love him, I never did, I -never shall. If I stand here to be married to him, it is to please my -father, his father, and not myself! And so I cannot tell a falsehood, -far less vow one in God’s presence about it. I love Dr. Hardcastle, to -whom you all know that I have been long engaged. I always did love him, -and always shall,’ and then let the minister of God marry us, if he -durst.” - -With a furious oath he sprang upon her—seized her—the idea of strangling -her upon the instant darted through his brain; but he only shook her -with frenzied violence, and holding her in his terrible grip, said, with -a husky voice and ashen cheek, and gleaming eye: - -“If you were to do so, girl, as God in heaven hears me, I would kill -you!” - -And she felt to the very core of her shuddering heart that he told the -truth. Then he dropped her, and threw himself out of the room, leaving -her there, half dead with cold and fright, in the miserably bleak attic, -without a spark of fire or light, for the lamp had been blown out by the -fury with which her father had banged the door. - - - - - CHAPTER XXI. - CRUELTY—A CHAMBER SCENE. - - Thou knowest not the meekness of love, - How it suffers and yet can be still— - How the calm on its surface may prove - What sorrow the bosom may fill. - _—Mrs. Ellis._ - - -Early the next morning Mrs. Garnet arose softly, without awaking the -general, and thrusting her small feet in wadded slippers, and drawing on -her wadded dressing-gown, passed into her daughter’s chamber for the -purpose of looking silently upon her while she slept, to see whether she -bore the fatigue of the ball well. She went in softly, drew the curtains -of the bedstead, and to her surprise, found that it had not been slept -in. Her first thought, of course, was that Elsie had remained all night -at Point Pleasant. - -She felt disappointed, and returned immediately to her own chamber, rang -for her maid, and proceeded with her morning toilet. - -Her maid, Milly, entered, bearing on her arm the cloak and hood that -Elsie had worn to Point Pleasant, and afterward dropped while being -dragged through the passage. Mrs. Garnet gazed at her in fixed -astonishment, saying: - -“Why, where did you get those, Milly? Is it possible that your Miss -Elsie has returned so early this morning? Where is she?” - -“Miss Elsie returned last night, missis, and must have dropped these in -the passage, for that is where I found them.” - -“Returned last night! Her bed has not been occupied! Where is she?” -exclaimed Mrs. Garnet, dropping the long mass of golden curls that she -had been twisting into a knot, and standing aghast with vague terror. -“Where is she? What is the meaning of this? Why do you look so -strangely? Oh, my God! what has happened to my child? Speak this moment, -Milly! What do you know of it?” - -“I thought you must a’ known, Miss Ally; marster’s locked her up in the -garret.” - -All the blood of the Chesters rushed to the brow of Alice, and crimsoned -it. - -“Locked Elsie up in the attic!” she exclaimed. Then: “Give me the keys! -Where are they? Bring me the keys instantly!” - -“Please, Miss Ally, marster took the garret key off of the bunch, and -put it in his pocket.” - -“Leave me, Milly. Go! Hasten! Go downstairs! I don’t want you this -morning,” said Alice, conscious of having betrayed too much emotion in -the presence of her servant. - -Milly left the room, and Alice hastened, with a flushed brow, and -trembling hand, to the big armchair at the head of the bed, over the -back of which hung the general’s clothing that he had worn the night -before. Alice searched all the pockets of the overcoat in vain. And she -took up the dress coat. - -But while Alice was hunting for the key, the general had risen upon his -elbow, and, unseen by her, was watching her motions with a demoniac -leer. - -Alice searched all the pockets of the dress coat, and it was not there. -Then she raised the vest, and in the pocket found the key. She seized it -eagerly, and was about to fly off with it when a heavy blow felled her -to the floor! The key dropped from her hand. General Garnet stooped and -repossessed himself of it, and looking at her with a laughing devil in -his eye, said: - -“Oh, was that you? Excuse me, madam! I beg ten thousand pardons; but -waking up suddenly, and seeing a hand in my pocket, I naturally enough -supposed it to be that of a thief! It’s Heaven’s mercy that I had not -shot you by mistake, my dear!” - -But seeing that she did not move, he leaned further over the side of the -bed, and perceived that in falling the back of her head had struck the -corner of the dressing bureau, and that she was stunned by the -concussion—stunned or dead, he did not know which. He jumped to the -floor and raised her. Her head and limbs fell helplessly over his arms. -He laid her on the bed, ran his fingers through the golden tresses of -her hair, but found no fracture; there might be a concussion of the -brain, but there was no outward sign. - -He started to the bell to ring it, but before he got there changed his -mind and returned, locked the door, went to the bureau, and taking a -couple of linen handkerchiefs, tore them in strips, and took a lancet -from his case (all planters kept such things for the exigencies of the -plantation). He then went to the bedside, ripped up the sleeve of -Alice’s dress, and baring the arm, opened a vein. As the blood began to -flow—first very sluggishly, then faster—she opened her eyes and looked -at him. He then bound up her arm, and telling her that he hoped this -sharp lesson would teach her the danger of opposing his will again, left -her and proceeded to dress himself. - -Alice attempted to rise, but her head grew dizzy, her eyes dim, and she -sank back at the same moment that he sternly bade her be still, and not -venture to leave her bed that day. He dressed, and left the chamber. - -At noon General Garnet returned and entered the room, and approaching -the bedside asked Alice how she felt. - -“Only drowsy, inclined to sleep while lying down, but sick and dizzy and -blind when I attempt to rise.” - -“If that be the case, you must not, upon any account, yield to that -inclination to sleep. It is dangerous; you must rise and sit up.” - -“I cannot—I wish I could—I cannot. I turn deadly sick as soon as my head -is lifted.” - -“Alice—I—think I must bleed you again,” he said, taking out the lancet -and baring her arm. Then he hesitated a moment; he doubted whether this -second bleeding would be right, but he resolved to risk it rather than -risk the exposure of their secret by sending for a physician. He opened -the vein again, and while the blood was trickling, looked so full of -solicitude that Alice felt sorry for him, and said: - -“Never mind; don’t you know I knew it was an accident—the striking of my -head against the bureau.” She now looked so much better again that he -ventured to say, as he bound up her arm: - -“I hope, Alice, that this will be a profitable lesson to you, at least. -Consider. You—you might have been killed.” Then he raised her in a -sitting posture, propped pillows behind her, took a seat in the big -chair, and said: “This is really a trifle as it turns out, Alice. This -dizziness will soon pass away if you sit up. Only, I hope, as I said -before, that this will be a warning to you, for it might have been much -more serious, or even fatal. It is dangerous, Alice, dangerous to rebel -either by stratagem or force against just authority. And, now listen, -for I wish to talk to you of Elsie for two reasons—first, to keep you -from falling into an injurious sleep; and, secondly, to let you know my -reason for confining her, and my plans and purposes toward her.” - -And then General Garnet, for the first time, openly avowed to his wife -his fixed determination to break off forever the projected marriage -between Magnus and Elsie, and to bestow the hand of the latter upon -Lionel Hardcastle, giving her his reasons in full for doing so, and -declaring his intention to keep Elsie confined until her consent was -obtained, and to take her then from her room at once to the altar, that -no deception might be practiced. Alice dreaded lest he should ask her -opinion, or her co-operation. Fortunately for her, he did not consider -either of the least importance, and soon rising, left the room and went -down to dinner. - -Alice pressed both hands to her head and groaned forth the prayer: - -“Oh, God! guide me aright through this labyrinth of crossing duties, -lest I lose my way!” - -In the afternoon General Garnet went out again. - -And soon after he was gone Milly entered her mistress’ chamber and put -in her hand a little slip of paper, which she said Elsie had given her -as she handed in her dinner. - -Alice took it eagerly. It was the flyleaf of her pocket prayer-book, and -on it was picked with a pin the sentence: - -“Say something to me, beloved mother.” - -Alice asked for a pencil, and wrote: - -“To-morrow I will write, dear child.” And then the pencil dropped from -her hand. “Milly, when you take her supper up, give her that,” she said, -and closed her eyes from exhaustion. - - - - - CHAPTER XXII. - MARRIAGE. - - Take her, and be faithful still, - And may the marriage vow - Be sacred kept in after years, - And fondly breathed as now. - _—Old Song._ - - -The next morning, after General Garnet had left the house—for the whole -day—Alice arose, still dizzy and weak, not only from the effects of the -blow, but from fasting and anxiety. She was scarcely seated in her chair -when a letter was brought to her that had come in the mail-bag from the -post office. It was superscribed in the handwriting of Dr. Hardcastle. -Alice tore it open, and read a much longer epistle than I can find space -to transcribe here, reader, but the sum total of it was this: Magnus -informed his friend Alice of what she already knew—General Garnet’s -expressed determination to break the engagement existing between himself -and Elsie, for mere mercenary motives; of his own and Elsie’s fixed -resolution to abide by their betrothal, and his hopes that their -decision would meet her—Alice’s—approval. He told her of his wish that -their marriage should take place on Thursday, as had been first -proposed; and of his intention to depart on the following Monday for his -home, among the new settlements in the backwoods of Maryland. He told -her, farther, that he had called the day before to see her and Elsie, -but that he had been refused admittance at the very threshold, the -servants adducing their master’s commands as their warrant. He had -heard, he said, that Elsie was immured, but hoped and believed that this -was not so. He concluded by entreating Alice to write and inform him of -her own and Elsie’s state of health and spirits, and advise him how to -proceed. - -Alice folded the letter, clasped her hands, and closed her eyes a moment -in intense thought and prayer. Then, bidding Milly wheel her writing -table before her, she took pen and paper, and wrote the following short -but important note: - - “DEAR MAGNUS: - - “As soon as you see this, go to a locksmith and send him instantly to - me. Then get a carriage, procure your license, call at Fig’s to take - up the young Methodist minister who boards there, and come at once to - Mount Calm. When you return, Elsie shall accompany you. - - “Your friend, - “ALICE GARNET.” - -She sealed this note, dispatched it, and then dropped her head into her -hands, holding it tightly, as though to chain thought to its object. -Then once more she drew her writing-desk nearer to her, took her pen, -and wrote these hurried lines to Elsie: - - “Within a very few hours from this, my own dear Elsie, you will be - released and married. And now let me tell you, my own dear child, my - reasons for advising and aiding you in this step. It is not only, my - Elsie, that your heart has long been given to Magnus; that your hand - has long been pledged to him with the approbation of both your - parents; that your happiness is concerned in being united to him; that - your honor is implicated in keeping faith with him; it is not, either, - that it would be a heinous wickedness to forsake your betrothed at the - very moment that fortune forsakes him, and in the hour of his greatest - adversity; it is not that this very desertion of yours would shake his - faith in all that is good and true in heaven or on earth, palsy his - energy and enterprise, and thus do him a serious mortal and social - injury. And, on the other hand, it is not that you do not love Lionel. - No, Elsie, it is simply because Magnus is entirely the better man of - the two,—better, incomparably better,—physically, mentally, morally, - religiously. Magnus is healthful, strong, handsome, energetic, highly - intellectual, purely moral, profoundly religious; and he loves you - completely. Lionel is broken in constitution, evidently by excess; - indolent, selfish, voluptuous, yet irritable and often violent. His - interest in you is a low compound of vanity, cupidity, and sense—it - would be false and profane to call it by the sacred name of love. - Magnus would make you better and happier, in loving you greatly, in - elevating your moral and religious nature, while Lionel would draw you - down to the misery and degradation of his own low nature. My child, my - one lone child, it is for this consideration that I bar you from - wealth, luxury, ease, adulation, and give you to the stern but kindly - discipline of poverty, toil, and privation—with love by your side, to - lighten all your labors and God above you to reward them. May God love - you, my only child! my little Elsie!” - -No tear-drop blotted this paper, though her tears had fallen thick, and -fast, and blindingly, while she wrote it. She had turned her head away; -for no sign of sorrow should wound and weaken Elsie in the letter -written to comfort and sustain her. She had turned her head away, and -the tears had rained upon her lap. Many times she had arisen from her -writing desk and fallen, overcome with grief, upon the bed. But it was -done. She had succeeded. And there was nothing upon the paper or in the -letter to betray the anguish of mind in which it was written. - -Trying to steer as blamelessly as she could through her labyrinth of -duties, Alice would not call one of the servants, all of whom had been -expressly forbidden to approach the attic, but took the paper herself, -went feebly up the stairs, and supporting herself by the balustrades, -she reached the topmost landing, and went to the door of Elsie’s room. - -“You are there, dear mother. I know your footstep so well, though it is -weaker than usual. And if I did not know your footsteps, I should know -your sigh. Dear mother, do not grieve for me. I am happy—reverently be -it spoken—as Peter was in prison.” - -“My darling Elsie, here is something I have written for you. I will push -it under the bottom of the door. Take it, darling, read it. Try to -compose your mind, and be ready for me very soon. I must go now, dear, -for when you begin to read that you will find I have a great deal to -prepare. Good-by, for an hour, my dear.” - -Alice then went down, entered her chamber, and rang for Milly; then she -went to her drawers and caskets, and got together all the jewelry that -she possessed, to the amount of several thousand dollars, and all -Elsie’s, that amounted to several thousand more, and placed them in one -strong casket. Then she searched her purse and pocketbook, and took out -all the money she had in possession, a few hundred dollars, and put it -in a strong packet. Then she sent Milly into Elsie’s vacant chamber, and -had all her clothing collected and packed into two large, strong -traveling trunks. Next, she sent for a man-servant to come and lock and -strap them down before her face. Lastly, she received the keys from him, -and told him to procure assistance, take the trunks down, put them into -a cart, carry them over to Huttontown, and leave them at Mr. Fig’s, with -a request from her that he would keep them until they were called for. -When Alice had done this she was told that a man wished to see her in -the hall. - -She went out, and found the locksmith with his tools. She bade him to -follow her, and led the way up into the attic, and to the door of -Elsie’s prison. She stopped there, and turning to the locksmith, said: - -“Pick this lock.” - -No sooner said than done. The man put in his instrument and unlocked it -with as much ease as though he had used a key. - -“There, thank you, sir! you need not open the door. Please to retire -now. Milly, my girl, will settle with you downstairs,” said Alice, who -did not by any means wish to “reveal the secrets of that prison-house.” - -The man bowed, gathered his tools, and went downstairs. - -Alice opened the door, and was instantly locked in the arms of her -daughter. Fearing to lose her courage and presence of mind, perhaps -trembling for the strength of her purpose, too, Alice did not venture to -indulge these enervating endearments, but hastened to say: - -“You read and understood my note, my dear Elsie?” - -“Yes, mother.” - -“You know, then, what is about to take place?” - -“Yes, dear mother.” - -“Come, then, my child, we must be quick. I expect Magnus here with the -license and the minister every minute. Your trunks are already packed -and sent off to Huttontown. Where are your diamonds, Elsie? I did not -see them among your jewelry. They are the greatest portion of your dower -now, my child. Where are they? I wish to put them into a casket that I -have packed for you.” - -“Here they are, mother, with the ball dress in which I came to prison.” - -“Ah, that ball dress, put that on, it will do as well as another; or, -no, you will perhaps have no time to change it afterward. Come down into -my room, and put on your traveling dress at once. I have left it out -with your bonnet; come, Elsie.” - -“If you please, ma’am, Dr. Hardcastle and Parson Wilson are downstairs, -inquiring for you,” said a servant from the foot of the interdicted -stairs. - -“Invite them into the back parlor, and say that I will be with them in a -few minutes,” said Alice. “Come, Elsie, hasten, dear, and let me dress -you.” She drew Elsie down. - -She felt no weakness or dizziness now. She was upheld by a strange -excitement. Her cheeks and lips seemed burning, and her eyes blazing as -with a hectic fever. - -Arrived in her own chamber, she quickly assisted Elsie to put on her -traveling dress, smoothing her beautiful auburn ringlets, pressed her -again fondly to her bosom, tied on her little beaver bonnet, and led her -downstairs into the back parlor, where Dr. Hardcastle and the minister -sat. - -Both forward, bowed, and shook hands. - -“Oh! for God’s sake have it over quickly, Magnus, lest my strength -fail!” said Alice, trembling violently. - -The minister drew the prayer-book from his pocket and opened it. - -Elsie suddenly lost every vestige of color, and threw herself again into -her mother’s arms. Alice pressed her passionately to her heart a moment, -and then gave her up to Magnus, who took her hand, passed his arm around -her waist to support her, and stood before the minister. - -In ten more minutes Magnus Hardcastle had the joy of clasping his wife -to his bosom. - -“Thank Heaven that it is over! Oh-h-h! Ugh-gh-h! I felt my flesh -creeping all the time, as if father were peeping over my shoulder,” -exclaimed Elsie, shuddering, and burying her head under the arm of -Magnus. - -“Yes, thank Heaven, it is over! It was short. A few solemn words of -exhortation, a brief prayer, a briefer benediction, and now I possess -you, without a doubt, or dispute—entirely. The laws of God and man give -you to me alike, and no power under heaven can tear you from me, my own -Elsie! my own wife!” said Magnus fervently, and almost crushing her in -his arms. - -“Yes, thank Heaven it is over! The doubt, the struggle, and the fear is -over. You are safe, Elsie. Your happiness, as far as human foresight can -secure it, is insured,” said Alice, as she received Elsie once more from -the arms of Magnus, and folded her in her own. - -“But you! Oh, my dear mother! you will be left without your child!” - -“Never regret me, my own darling. You go without your mother, but you go -with your husband, and you are happy. Are you not, my Elsie?” - -“Oh, yes, yes, mamma.” - -“Well, I am left without my daughter, but I remain with my husband. -Think that I am happy also,” said Alice, feeling thankful to Providence -from the bottom of her heart, that Elsie was “innocent of the knowledge” -of General Garnet’s tyranny over herself. - -Yet Elsie half suspected, she knew not what. She looked deeply, -searchingly, for an instant into her - -mother’s dark blue eyes, as if to read the secret of the deep sorrow in -them. - -But Alice dropped her long lashes, and averted her head. - -Then Elsie took her hand, and bending round to look into her troubled -face, said, slowly, earnestly, tearfully: - -“You love my father dearly, very dearly; don’t you, mamma? Say, don’t -you, mamma? Oh! don’t you, mamma?” - -“Yes, Elsie, I love him,” said Alice, in a very low voice, turning again -to her daughter. - -“Oh, mamma, you love him as well as I love Magnus! Don’t you, mamma? -Don’t you? You love him better than you love me, and you will be very -happy with him even when I am gone? Say, mamma! Oh, tell me before I -go.” - -For an answer Alice stooped and kissed her daughter on the forehead. - -“But oh! tell me before I go! Tell me that you love my father better -than you love me, and that you will be very happy with him when I am -gone,” said Elsie, growing more anxious for an answer every instant. - -Alice turned very pale. - -And Magnus, who saw that she was fast losing her self-control, came to -her relief, by saying, as he approached, took her hand, and drew her -off: - -“I have a word to say to you, if you please, Mrs. Garnet.” - -They went to a window, leaving Elsie near the parson. - -“Mrs. Garnet! Cousin Alice! Dearest friend! I have a proposal to make to -you that must surprise and may shock and offend you. But nevertheless, I -make it. Listen to me, Alice. I know too well what you have risked for -us, and what you have incurred at the hands of your husband this day! -Alice! I fear—I tremble at the thought of leaving you here alone, and -exposed to his terrible wrath. You——” - -But Alice raised her hand and gently arrested his speech. - -“Magnus, forgive me for reminding you that you should not talk to me in -that way. General Garnet’s displeasure, as far as I am implicated, will -perhaps be just. You and Elsie were right. Your faith was pledged with -his consent. You were right in redeeming your mutual pledge. But I, -perhaps, was wrong in assisting you in it. I do not clearly know. Oh, -Magnus, for many years my ideas of right and wrong have been very much -confused. For many years I have lost sight of the exact line that -divides good and evil. Oh, Magnus, when the eyes are dimmed with tears, -the sight is not very clear—and when the soul is drowned in grief, -Magnus, the moral vision may be very much obscured. But this I know—that -General Garnet’s anger, just or unjust, moderate or violent, I must -meet, and meet alone. By all means alone! The dignity of both is -concerned in that.” - -“Alice, you must not! Hear me! Listen to me! Do not turn away with that -air of gentle self-respect, and wave me off! Don’t I know that your -heart is breaking this moment—this moment, that your child is leaving -you, and you are left desolate and exposed to danger! Desolate, -wretched, in peril, though you would have her to believe otherwise? Oh, -Alice, you may deceive the child of your bosom, but you will not deceive -the boy who sat at your feet and loved you, and studied the mystery of -the sorrow on your brow when you came home a bride, and everybody called -you happy. I was not deceived then; I have not been deceived since. Oh, -Alice, my love for Elsie, my love for you, my relation toward both, give -me the right to feel, the right to speak and advise. Hear me: You must -not remain here to meet the anger of your husband. Your life—your life -will be endangered. Nay! do not lift your hand to stop my speech; hear -my plan; hear me out—I will be very brief. Listen! You love Elsie and -me. Go with us when we leave here. Go with us to our backwoods home. Our -home will be humble, but full of peace and love, and the repose you so -much need. We shall be poor, but you shall not feel it. Respectful and -loving hands will wait on you all day long. You will be happy with us. -Remain with us till the storm blows over. There need be—there would -be—no exposure, no gossip, no scandal. To the neighbors who knew of our -betrothal, our marriage and departure will seem perfectly natural, only -rather unsocial because we did not give a wedding. And I can answer for -the discretion and fidelity of Wilson. Your accompanying us, for a -visit, will seem nothing unusual. General Garnet, if I mistake not, is -too much a man of the world not to keep his own secret, and too much of -a despot not to enforce silence upon his people, in regard to this -matter. General Garnet will be very anxious to get you back before your -visit is prolonged to a suspicious extent. And then, Alice, while you -are safe with us, you can make your own conditions with him for your -return. You can secure for yourself——” - -“Stop! Magnus, I do not wish to mar the harmony of this sad hour by one -dissonant word or thought or feeling. But let me hear no more of this. -Not one breath more, dearest Magnus. What! I leave my home! leave my -husband, and remain away to make conditions with him! I, who -unconditionally pledged myself to him ‘for better or worse’—I, who vowed -love, honor and obedience to him ‘until death’! No Magnus. That marriage -vow, in all its details, is not to be tampered with. It is not a -question of happiness, or of peace, or of expedience, or of repose, or -of affection, but simply of duty. No, Magnus. When I hastened to bestow -my daughter upon you, it was for the reason that I believed you to be -one toward whom it would be a happiness as well as duty to keep sacred, -in all its minutiæ, that marriage vow.” - -“Alice, dearest Alice, your heart is very mournful, and, forgive me for -saying it, very morbid.” - -“It is? Call Elsie, then. Her feelings are all singularly healthful. -Call her, and in her presence just invite me to go with you, simply to -go with you—that will be the mildest form of your proposal—and see what -Elsie will say. Come, do so.” - -Magnus turned with a smile, and beckoned Elsie to approach. Elsie came, -with her bright face beaming with interest and inquiry. - -“Elsie, my love,” said Magnus, “I have been trying to persuade your -mother to accompany us to our new home, and remain there for a few -weeks.” - -“And leave father so suddenly, when I am leaving him, too! Oh, don’t -press her to do any such a thing, dear Magnus. Oh, don’t think of -leaving father just now, dearest mother,” said Elsie earnestly; then -throwing herself in her mother’s arms, whispered anxiously: “Mother, -don’t you love father? Oh, mother, tell me, before I go, that you love -father.” - -“Yes, Elsie, I do love him. No, Magnus, I cannot leave him. I have -helped to bereave him of his child for a season—I cannot leave him.” - -“But, oh, Alice!” said Magnus, drawing her apart, “think again! think -what you will meet. How can you brave his anger?” - -“I shall not brave it, Magnus. It may be just, coming from him. At least -I must bear it—patiently, too.” - -Just then the door was burst open by a servant, who exclaimed, in -affright: - -“Madam!—mistress!—doctor!—Miss Elsie! Marster is a riding down the road, -post-haste, to the house!” - -“Oh, my God! there is not a moment to spare. Good-by, my beloved child. -God bless you!” said Alice, straining her daughter to her bosom. - -“Oh, mother, don’t you love father dearly? Tell me once more.” - -“Yes, yes, Elsie.” - -“Oh, mother, if you love him so dearly, get my pardon from him. Tell him -how I grieve to be under the necessity of offending him. Get my pardon -for me, beloved mother.” - -“I will do my very best. God bless you, my darling child! Good-by! Oh, -Magnus, be good to her, be merciful, be loving, be tender. Oh, Magnus, I -have torn the heart from my bosom and given it to you. Be good to her.” - -“May God deal by my soul as I deal by her heart!” said Magnus, folding -his mother-in-law in a fervent embrace. - -Then they hurried out, hastened into the carriage, the blinds were let -down, the doors closed, the whip cracked, and the vehicle rolled away. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIII. - “THE HEART OVERTASKED.” - - Oh, break, break, heart! poor bankrupt, break at once! - To prison, soul! Ne’er hope for liberty! - _—Shakspere._ - - Oh! do whate’er thou wilt! I will be silent. - _—Joanna Baillie._ - - -Alice heard an advancing step. She looked around. Milly stood at her -side. - -“Where is your master? Did he enter by the back gate? Is he at the -stables?” she inquired. - -“Miss Alice, no, ma’am; he didn’t come home at all. He didn’t even meet -the carriage. He turned off ’fore he got to the porter’s lodge, and rode -hard as he could down the path as leads down the Hollow. I ’spects how -he had some ’litical business long o’ Mr. Hard’stle.” - -“Oh, thank Heaven!” said Alice, with a long-drawn sigh of relief, and -rising, she hurried off to her own chamber. Not to sit down in faithless -despair, but to write a letter to General Garnet, softly and meekly -breaking to him the news of their daughter’s marriage, so that the first -shock of astonishment and rage should be over before he should come home -and she should have to meet him. She wrote this letter. It contained all -that she had said in her letter to Elsie, and much more; besides, a -meek, appealing spirit pervaded it, that few hearts could have resisted. -She dispatched it by a servant to General Garnet at Hemlock Hollow. Then -she lay down and tried to sleep. - -She was disturbed by the entrance of a servant bearing a letter. - -She raised up and took it. It was for General Garnet, and bore the -post-mark of Huttontown. She regarded it attentively for an instant, for -it was written in a coarse, schoolboy-like hand. - -Then she placed it on the dressing-table, and, dismissing the servant, -lay down and closed her eyes again, with an effort to sleep. She could -not do so for a long time. Emotion was busy in her heart, and thought in -her brain. One, two, three hours passed; and then she prayed, prayed for -the promised rest, and, praying, fell asleep. - -She did not know how long she had slept, when, waking, she perceived -General Garnet in the room. - -He was sitting in the large armchair near the bed, and his attention -riveted upon a letter he was reading. Alice glanced at the -dressing-table. The letter she had placed there was gone. Yes, it was -that letter which he was reading with such fixed interest. - -Alice lay quietly, yet anxiously watching him, until he finished -reading, folded up the letter, and put it in his pocket. His attitude -was one of deep, even intense, thought. In the crimson twilight of that -closely curtained chamber she could not see the expression of his face. -It was evident, she thought, that he had not seen her in the shadowy -recess where her sofa stood. - -After thus watching a moment, breathing a prayer for mercy, she slowly -arose, crossed the room, and sank upon the cushion near his feet, took -his hand, and looked up pleadingly into his face. - -Alice was still a very beautiful woman, as I have told you, and never -was a more beautiful picture than that kneeling figure, with the bright, -flowing hair, flushed cheek, and upturned, pleading gaze with which she -sought silently to deprecate the anger of her husband. She sought to -read her fate in his countenance; but that high and haughty face was -lifted and averted, and its features were stern, and calm, and -impassible. Then she found words to speak, and inquired, softly: - -“You received my letter, General Garnet?” - -“Yes, madam, I received your letter,” he answered, in a hard, cold tone -of voice. - -“Then you know what else I should tell you here at your feet.” - -“I know that my daughter has eloped, and that my wife helped her off,” -he replied, in the same dry tone, and with his head still averted. - -Alice could not see that his lips were bloodless and compressed, and his -eyes burning with a fearful, lurid glare. His very quietude, hard and -dry, and constrained as it was, deceived her. She took his hand again -and pressed it to her lips, and held it to her bosom, murmuring softly: - -“Let us forgive each other! Oh, my husband, let us forgive each other! -For many wrongs there is positively no other remedy in the wide universe -but simple forgiveness—simple, magnanimous, sublime forgiveness. ‘It is -impossible but that offenses will come,’ said the most merciful of all -beings. It is impossible, says the experience of life, it is impossible -but that disappointments, sorrows, pains, and partings will come. They -are the conditions of our existence. We cannot escape them. Let us -lessen their bitterness as much as we may. It is impossible but that -troubles will come, but the vital question is whether we shall turn them -to good or evil account—whether we shall live to any good end or not. -Oh, my husband, make friends with me! We have only each other in the -wide world upon whom to depend for our life’s comfort and happiness. -Make friends with me!” - -She paused, covering his hand with fond caresses, pressing it to her -lips, laying it against her cheek, holding it to her throbbing heart. He -drew his hand from her gentle clasp, and folded his arms. - -Alice sank back, sobbing—sobbing, as though her heart would burst—then -suddenly she clasped his knees, exclaiming wildly: “Can we hate each -other—you and I who have lived so many years together? Can we hate each -other—you and I, who love our only child, our dear Elsie, so much? Make -friends with me! Let us understand each other! Let us be candid with -each other! Let us forbear each other! I know that you deeply regret the -failure of your favorite plan to unite these estates. I know it; I am -sorry for it; sorry that I have been constrained to have a hand in it. -But, oh, General Garnet, I, too, you know, was once—long years -ago—bitterly disappointed—terribly disappointed! But it is all over now; -it has all been over many years ago! And that is what I have often -wanted to tell you, when I saw by the cold, dark shadow on your brow -that you thought yourself unloved. But I never could approach you near -enough to tell you—to tell you that if you would look into my heart you -would see it filled with the love of God, of my husband, and my child. -Oh, Aaron! let us forget all that estranged us in the dreary past, and -see if we cannot live a better and happier life in the future! At least -we can be kind, candid, forbearing with each other. Think how long we -may have to travel the rough road of mortal life side by side! We are -not old—you and I, Aaron! You are not forty-five, and I am much younger. -People healthful as we are usually live to the age of eighty and beyond -it. Think how many years we may have to live together! Shall we, through -all these years, be unloving, cold, estranged, suspicious, uncharitable -each to the other? Think how many years of our life we have already -wasted in coolness, strangeness, misunderstandings! Think how many yet -remain! Shall we not live the rest in mutual forbearance, candor, -benevolence? Make friends with me. Let us comprehend each other. Dear -Aaron, I have opened my heart to you; give me your confidence!” She -ceased, half turned to gaze up in his face; his head was quite -averted—had he relented? She thought so. She suddenly, impulsively -arose, threw her arms around his neck, and bent her lips to kiss him, -repeating softly: “Dearest Aaron, make friends with me. Give me your -confidence.” - -He sprang up, and with one dash of his strong arm threw her from him, -exclaiming: - -“Off, traitress! Off, serpent! Viper!” - -She tottered and fell back among the silken cushions of an old-fashioned -low lounge, exhausted, pale, and shuddering. - -He gazed at her with flashing eyes and darkening brow, and white and -writhen lips, and the long restrained passion broke out in a torrent of -invective. Shaking his clenched fist at her, he exclaimed: - -“How dare you talk to me of confidence, traitress that you are? How -durst you even approach me, serpent! viper! after your black treachery? -What do you mean by braving me? Are you enamored of a broken head? Or do -you think your own too hard to be broken? At what do you value your -life, pray? What hinders me now from strangling you? Why didn’t you fly -with your hopeful daughter? Don’t you expect me to hurl you out of doors -after her? How durst you cross my path after your treachery? Viper, -answer me, I say!” he vociferated, striding toward the lounge, grasping -her shoulder, and jerking her to her feet before him. “Answer! How dared -you face me after your black treachery?” - -“It was no treachery,” answered Alice, pale and trembling, yet with a -certain gentle dignity in her words and tone; “it was no treachery; I -broke no promise; I betrayed no trust; I am incapable of doing either.” - -“Silence, traitress!” he thundered, shaking her furiously; “I do not ask -you for any impudent falsehood; I will not, by Heaven, permit you to -tell me one! I ask you how you dared to meet me here?” - -“Oh-h-h!” sighed Alice, suddenly sinking at his feet. “It was to return -to my allegiance; at whatever personal risk, to yield myself to you; to -abide henceforth by my duties. And oh, General Garnet, do not -misunderstand me! If I have humbled myself before you—vainly, perhaps, -it is not from so base a motive as fear! Oh, I have outlived and -outsuffered the fear of pain—the fear of death—the fear of anything that -might befall me! I am at your feet. If I have placed myself -unconditionally in your hands, it is for the sake of the holiest -principles, the most sacred duties. General Garnet, you believe me—I see -that you do! General Garnet, listen to me farther; this is positively -the first time in our married life of seventeen years that I ever -opposed you.” - -“The first time that you ever successfully opposed me, madam; and, by -Heaven, you have made a signal beginning!” commented General Garnet, no -longer speaking in a furious voice, but in the dry, hard, stern tone, -and fixed, inflexible brow with which he had in the beginning of their -interview heard and replied to her gentle words. The burst of violent -passion had passed away and left him—the hard, scornful, sarcastic, yet -cool, calculating, dissembling, most dangerous man that he was before. - -Alice gazed up at his face, seeking to read the changed expression -there; but it passed her skill, and she murmured slowly: - -“Perhaps I was wrong; I know that under other circumstances it would -have been very wrong; yet I dare not say that I regret what I did, for -under the same circumstances I should do it again. Not to obtain your -forgiveness would I deceive you, though to obtain it would make me -comparatively happy; but I deeply regret that anything I had a hand in -should give you pain. And I say, do as you please, I shall not complain, -I cannot. From the one revolt of my whole life I return to a full and -unconditional allegiance; there is nothing farther to disturb it, -nothing to draw me aside. My love for my child only did it; that cannot -move me again.” - -“Ha! can it not?” he asked scornfully. - -“No, no, indeed it cannot!” - -“Never!” - -“Never! How can my love for Elsie ever again draw me aside from you? -Elsie is married and gone; now I have only you; my duty is -undivided—and, oh, if you would let me, I would try to make you so -happy!” - -“Would you?” he asked, doubtfully, scornfully. - -“Yes, I would,” she said, suddenly rising, leaning her hand upon his -arm, and her head upon his shoulder, with the confidence of perfect love -and faith. “Oh, Aaron, you have not been yourself for a few days past. -Yet I do not love you the less on that account; indeed, I do not. Oh, -Aaron, I can excuse your violence more than you can excuse yourself, I -know, for I have been used to it in others. My father was violent -sometimes. And I know that anger is a brief intoxication—’a short -madness’—in which people do and say what they never intended. Come, you -are not angry now; you are smiling; and I—I can only repeat what I said -in the beginning, ‘Let us forgive each other, and live better and -happier all our future lives.’ That is right—put your arm around me, -dear Aaron, for I am very weak.” - -It was scarcely in human nature, or in devil nature, to resist the charm -of her winning beauty, gentleness, and meekness. General Garnet pressed -a passionate kiss upon her lips, and clasped her to his heart. It was -the first kiss of many, many years; and Alice, trembling, happy, with -her blushing face hidden on his bosom, saw not the “laughing devil in -his eye.” - -“Oh, Aaron, this is generous—this is magnanimous. Oh, Aaron, if you knew -how the simple act of forgiveness has power to bind the human heart! I -know it by the way it draws my heart to yours,” said Alice, with -enthusiasm. - -But another and a more passionate kiss sealed her lips for a time. - -At last she said: - -“My friend, how has it been with you this long, long time? I mean how -has it been with your heart and soul, your inner life? Have you been -happy—have you had any great life purpose? Oh, Aaron, often when I have -watched you in your daily life, as you walked, or rode, or drove; as you -sat at table, or at your writing-desk, or settled business with your -overseer or agents; or jested or told anecdotes among your friends; when -you have seemed to live lightly on the outside of things, I have longed -to ask you, ‘How is with you—is this reality, and is this all of your -life, and are you contented with it—are you happy?’ And when I have seen -you sit, or stand, or walk apart, silent, moody, abstracted, retired -into yourself, I have longed to knock at your heart’s door, to be let -in, too—to be let into your confidence, and to give you my sympathy, but -I dared never to do so. It has taken the grief and passion of this hour -to enable me to do so now. But this shall never be so again, shall it? -We shall never be such strangers to each other again? Come, tell me -now—how it is with you. Are you happy?” - -“Quite happy, just at this hour, Alice.” - -“And do you truly love me—a little? Oh, love me—only love me!” - -“Love you! That is not so difficult, Alice. You are still a very lovely -woman.” - -“Will you let me deliver Elsie’s last message to you?” - -He quickly averted his face to hide the dark cloud that overswept it, -while he answered: - -“I will hear it.” - -“Elsie’s parting words to me were, ‘Oh, mother, you love my father very -dearly, do you not?’ I answered, ‘Yes.’ She replied, ‘Oh, if you love -him, mother, win my pardon from him!’ Aaron, look on me. Father, forgive -your child for loving her husband as much as her mother loves thee.” - -“Alice,” he said, drawing her again to his bosom and kissing her, “this -seals your full pardon; be content; for the rest, give me time.” - -“Oh, if I could persuade you to forgive poor Elsie—who only needs her -father’s pardon and blessing to be perfectly happy in her humble state.” - -“Alice, if Elsie were before me, as you are, in all your beauty, perhaps -I could not choose but be reconciled with her as with you, my lovely -Alice.” - -Alice was so unused to praise from him that these words and caresses -were beginning to embarrass her. Blushing like a very girl, she withdrew -herself from his arms, and sat down. Then, as fearing to have offended, -she said: - -“Do not think me ungrateful. Test my sincerity in any way you please.” - -“In any way, Alice?” he asked significantly. - -“Yes. Try me—test me.” - -“Pause—think—in any way?” - -“In anything and everything will I obey you, that does not transgress -the laws of God, I mean, of course.” - -“Ah, that to begin with, is one very broad and comprehensive -exception—especially if you design to give it a very liberal and -latitudinarian interpretation. And it implies, besides, a suspicion and -a guard against my giving you any command which, to obey, would be to -transgress the laws of God. Do you really suppose that I am capable of -doing such a thing, Alice?” - -“No—oh, no. Only you pressed me for an exception, you know, and I gave -you the only one I thought of.” - -“I am satisfied with your exception, Alice. But is that really the only -exception to your vow of compliance?” - -“Yes, indeed, the only one.” - -“Reflect—you may find another.” - -“No; indeed, no.” - -“No? What is the dearest wish of your heart, now, Alice?” - -“For peace—for perfect family peace and perfect Christian love.” - -“Thanks, Alice. ‘Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian.’ But is -there no secret, darling thought that hovers around Magnus and Elsie?” - -Alice suddenly turned very pale. Her hands flew up pleadingly, and -involuntarily she cried, in a voice of anguish: - -“Oh, for the loving Saviour’s sake, do not require me to renounce -Elsie!” - -“If I did, would you do so, Alice?” - -She was silent, with her head bowed upon her clasped hands. - -He looked at her and smiled sardonically, saying: - -“I knew it—another exception! How many would follow this, I wonder? But -be easy, Alice. I do not require you to renounce your daughter. Far be -that from me. Hold her as closely to your heart as you wish. Nothing but -nervousness could have put that thought into your head. Have I not said -that even I might be brought to forgive Elsie? Pshaw, dear Alice, I only -wished to prove to you how really vain were all your promises.” - -“No, they are not!” exclaimed Alice earnestly, energetically. “You have -reconciled yourself to me when I least hoped and expected it, and I will -do anything to prove how glad I am—anything except renounce Elsie or -fail in my higher duty to Heaven. Oh, do not close your half-opened -heart to me again! Try me!” - -“Good! I will put your sincerity to one more test. And woe to both if -that third test should prove you faithless.” - -“It shall not—it shall not!” said Alice solemnly. “All our future -confidence and peace depends on it, and it shall not fail, so help me -Heaven. What is it?” - -“You shall soon see, Alice,” replied General Garnet, rising and -preparing to leave the room. “Where are they now?—I mean Dr. Hardcastle -and his wife.” - -“I believe they are at the hotel at Huttontown, where they expect to -remain for a few days—if you do not bring them back here. Oh, General -Garnet, if you would pardon them—if you would bring them back here to -live with us—how happy we should all be—oh, how happy we should all be -the long future years! No more partings—no more tears. Our children and -grandchildren would be with us all through life. Magnus could practice -his profession, and be of such inestimable value besides, in your -political plans, and such company for you at home. And Elsie would be -such a comfort to me. We should all be so happy! Come, bring them back -with you. Ah! do. Let us have them with us, all reconciled, around the -table to-night—and it will be the happiest family gathering that ever -was held. Oh, I see you smile, and I know you will bring them back—will -you not?” said Alice, suddenly seizing his hand, and gazing eloquently, -beseechingly into his face. - -“We shall see, Alice—I will tell you more about that when I return,” he -said, with one of his charming smiles, and shaking her hand cheerfully, -opened the door and went out. - -“Oh, yes—I do believe he will bring them back with him. Ah, no father -can harden his heart against his child. Yes, yes, I am sure he will -bring them back!” she repeated, seeking to still the anxiety that was -tormenting her breast. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIV. - THE WIFE’S TRUST. - - I know not, I ask not, if guilt’s in that heart, - But I know that I love thee, whatever thou art. - _—Moore._ - - -The sun was going down when a servant entered the chamber and announced -that Judge Wylie was below stairs and begged to see Mrs. Garnet alone -upon important business. - -Telling the man to show Judge Wylie into the library, Alice threw a -shawl around her, and, full of vague and painful misgivings, descended -the stairs. - -What could be the important business upon which Judge Wylie came? What -business, trifling or important, could he have with her? Had any -accident happened to Elsie? The thought gripped her heart like a vise. -Had anything happened to Magnus or General Garnet? - -Trembling and pale, and almost overwhelmed by the trials of the day, she -opened the library door and entered in. - -Judge Wylie was standing there awaiting her. Judge Jacky’s usually -jubilant face was now overcast and troubled as he advanced to meet -Alice, took her hand, led her to a settee, and seated himself beside -her. He pressed her hand with paternal kindness and said, gravely and -gently: - -“My dear Mrs. Garnet, you will pardon the liberty about to be taken by -your oldest friend.” - -“For Heaven’s sake—what has——” happened, she was about to ask, but the -words died on her pale lips. - -“Do not be alarmed, my dear Mrs. Garnet. Nothing has occurred since the -marriage—you perceive that I know all about it. But it is to warn you—to -put you upon your guard against something about to occur, that I come to -you this evening.” - -“For God’s sake—what? what?” - -“Be easy. Nothing that you have not in your full power to avert by a -little firmness.” - -“For Heaven’s sake, explain yourself, Judge Wylie.” - -“You know something, I presume, of the Maryland laws of property, of -inheritance, and of marriage?” - -“No, no; I know nothing about it.” - -“At least you know that when a girl marries, all the personal property -she may be possessed of at the time of her marriage, or may afterward -inherit, becomes the property of her husband?” - -“Yes, of course, I know that.” - -“Yes, but—listen. All the landed property she possesses at the time of -her marriage, or afterward inherits, is hers—hers alone. Her husband can -neither alienate it during his life, or will it at his death. He cannot -mortgage it, nor assign it, nor can it be taken for his debts. It is -hers, and hers alone. She alone has the disposal of it.” - -“Yes. Well?” - -“Therefore, all the personal property you became possessed of at the -death of your father is the property of General Aaron Garnet.” - -“Certainly. Who disputes it? Well?” - -“But. And now listen! All the landed property, consisting of six -thousand acres of the best land on the Western Shore, which you -inherited from your father, is yours, your own, and at your death it is -your daughter’s, if she survive you, and unless you choose to will it to -someone else. General Garnet can make no disposition of it either during -your life or at your death.” - -“It seems to me, Judge Wylie, that this conversation is a very singular -one,” said Alice coldly. - -“Not so singular or so impertinent—that is what you mean—as it appears -to be. Bear with me. Hear me out. I speak for your good, and your -child’s good, I have before me now the face of your sainted mother. I -loved her in my youth, Alice; but that is neither here nor there. Well, -this is what I had to say: Your daughter Elsie has, by her marriage, -grievously offended her father. He may or may not pardon her. He may -discard her. Do not put it in his power to disinherit her.” - -Alice turned very pale. - -“Why do you say that to me?” she asked falteringly. - -“Because,” he answered, “it is said that women can always be kissed or -kicked out of any right of property they may happen to possess. Now, -don’t you, my little Alice, be kissed out of your six thousand acres of -finely cultivated and heavily timbered, well-watered land, with all its -land and water privileges. The best plantation within the bounds of old -Maryland. Don’t you be kissed out of it, little Alice, for it makes you -independent and of great importance. Don’t you be kissed out of it, -Alice, for you can leave it to your beloved daughter, who will need it. -Don’t you be kissed out of it, Alice, my child; and as for the other -alternative, my courteous friend, General Garnet, is far too much of a -gentleman to resort to it, either literally or metaphorically.” - -“Judge Wylie, why do you talk to me in this way? You are my oldest -friend; you have a certain privilege. I beseech you, forbear to abuse -it,” said Alice, divided between mortification and anxiety. The latter -at last prevailed, and she asked: “Why did you open up this subject just -now, Judge Wylie? You came to tell me why, I suppose. Tell me now at -once.” - -“Well, then, only this, Alice. That about an hour ago I happened in at -Squire Fox’s office, where General Garnet was superintending the drawing -up of a deed. An involuntary—a providential—glance, now I think it was, -over the clerk’s shoulder revealed to me the fact that he was drawing up -a deed of assignment, by which you were to convey all your right, title, -and interest in the landed property of Mount Calm to General Aaron -Garnet. General Garnet then turned to me and requested me to meet him -here to-night, to witness your signature. I asked, with surprise, if you -had consented to give it. He looked offended, and expressed astonishment -at my question. By which I knew that he intended to come upon you by a -coup de main, and I came off here to put you on your guard.” - -“Oh, is that all?” asked Alice, with a sigh of great relief. “Well, -Judge Wylie, if anyone else in the wide world had talked to me as you -have been talking for the last ten minutes, I should have said that they -took a most unwarrantable and most offensive liberty in presuming to -interfere in a matter that concerns only General Garnet and myself. Of -you, my old friend, I only say that your doubts and fears are totally -groundless. General Garnet, perhaps, wishes to test the strength of my -confidence in him, or he may have some other and still better reason for -what he is about to do. At all events, when he lays that deed before me -for signature, most willingly, most cheerfully, will I prove my love and -respect, and confidence in him, by signing it at once. Judge Wylie, I am -not well this evening. The events of the day have shaken me very much. -Judge Wylie, with many thanks for your kind intentions, permit me to -wish you good-evening.” And Alice held out her hand. - -Judge Wylie arose, saying: - -“Ah! I knew it. I might have known it before I came. She will not be -saved when she might be. She is like all her sex: none of them ever will -be saved, unless it’s those who aint worth saving. Well, good-evening, -Mrs. Garnet! God be with you! It is said that children and—pardon -me—fools—enjoy the privilege of an especial Providence. May such a -protection be yours! Good-evening, madam.” - -And pressing her hand, he took his hat and stick, and was about to leave -the room, when the front door was heard to open, steps to hurry up the -hall, and the library door was thrown open, and General Garnet entered, -ushering in a magistrate and a lawyer, who held some documents, tied -with red tape, in his hands. - -“Ah, Judge Wylie! I am glad to find you already here. Gentlemen, be -seated. Alice, my love, I preferred to bring these gentlemen here, for -the purpose of transacting a little law business in which you are -concerned, rather than risk your health by taking you out in this severe -weather. Judge Wylie, resume your seat. Gentlemen, pray be seated. -Alice, my love, come hither; I had expected to find the library empty, -and you in your chamber, where I left you. I wish to have a word with -you apart.” And putting one arm affectionately over the shoulder of -Alice, he took her hand, and led her away to a distant part of the room, -where, with his most angelic smile, he said: “Alice, I am the nominal -master of Mount Calm only! but, Alice, I am at this moment a poor man. -Prove your affection and confidence now, as your heart dictates!” - -“I know what you mean, Aaron. Come! I am ready to do so—at once. But, -oh, Aaron! have you seen Elsie?” - -“I will tell you all about that after this little business is over, dear -Alice! Come.” - -“Immediately after?” - -“Yes, instantly, and it will take but a moment.” - -“Come, then, let us have it over quickly, that I may the sooner hear of -Elsie. But, oh! just assure me of this—that you have forgiven her! I -know by your smile that you have—but, oh! I long to hear you say so!” - -“Can you doubt me, Alice? Come! let us have this affair over, and then -you shall know all about it.” - -And taking her hand he led her up the room. - -The magistrate was seated behind a table; before him lay a copy of the -Holy Scriptures, pen, ink, and paper, and certain documents, among which -was the deed of assignment in question. By the side of the table stood -Judge Jacky and the lawyer, as witnesses. - -General Garnet led Alice up in front of it, and immediately before the -magistrate. - -Squire Fox took up the deed of assignment, and read it aloud. Then he -administered the oath to Alice, and put the usual questions, as to -whether she gave that deed of her own free will, without compulsion, or -undue persuasion from her husband? - -“Without being kissed or kicked out of it?” whispered Judge Jacky. - -Having received satisfactory answers to all questions the magistrate -laid the deed open before Alice, for her signature. General Garnet -dipped a pen in ink and handed it to her. Alice received it, smilingly, -and in a clear, unfaltering hand, wrote her name at the bottom of that -deed, that conferred upon her husband immense wealth and left herself -penniless. - -The lawyer affixed his signature, as witness. Judge Wylie, with a deep -groan, wrote his name. The squire performed his part, and the business -was complete. - -Alice looked up into General Garnet’s face, with an expression that -said—“Now have you proved me sufficiently? Now will you confide in me? -Will you love me?” - -General Garnet stooped down and whispered to her: - -“Retire immediately to your chamber, Alice!” - -“But—Elsie—tell me of her?” - -“Retire to your chamber, instantly, Mrs. Garnet!—and await me there! I -must offer these gentlemen something to drink, and dismiss them; -immediately after which, I will come to you, and tell you all that I -have done, and all that I intend to do!” said General Garnet, in a tone -of authority and impatience, that would brook no opposition or delay. - -And Alice, courtesying slightly to the party, withdrew. - - - - - CHAPTER XXV. - LIFE’S STORM AND SOUL’S SHELTER. - - Go, when the hunter’s hand hath wrung - From forest cave her shrieking young, - And calm the lonely lioness— - But chide not—mock not my distress. - _—Byron._ - - -Alice retired to her chamber and waited restlessly. An hour passed, and -still she heard no sound of departing guests. It was quite dark and she -rang the bell. - -Milly entered with lights. - -“Tea is ready to go on the table, Miss Ally. Shall we put it up?” - -“Where is your master? What is he doing?” - -“He is in the library, ma’am, with the gentlemen. They don’t seem to -have any notion of going home. General Garnet—he sent for more wine, and -ordered deviled turkey and scalloped crabs—two other gentlemen have come -in, and they are all very high upon pullyticks.” - -Alice heard and sighed deeply. - -“So I thought, Miss Ally, how you’d like your cup of tea, anyhow. Shall -I set the table as usual? Though it will be very lonesome for you to sit -at the table all alone, now that Miss Elsie is gone, and marster’s -engaged. Or else shall I bring you a cup of tea up here, with anything -else you would like? There is some cold fowl in the pantry, and some -neat’s tongue, too; shall I bring it up to you, with a cup of tea?” - -“No, Milly. Perhaps the general would like supper got for his guests. -Come with me; I will go down and see.” - -“God bless your soul, Miss Ally, honey, they’s been a stuffing ever -since they’s been here.” - -“No matter for that, Milly; you know our gentlemen have infinite -gastronomic capacities.” - -“My Gor A’mighty, Miss Ally! you don’t say so. Is it catching?” - -“What?” - -“That there complaint our gemmen has got.” - -“Nonsense, Milly! you misunderstood me; I meant to say that they had ‘no -bottoms to their stomachs.’” - -“My Gor A’mighty! Miss Ally, what a misfortunate state to be in. It’s a -world’s wonder as it don’t kill ’em to death!” - -“Pshaw, Milly! There is nothing the matter with them except that they -never get done eating.” - -“Oh, is that it, Miss Ally? Well, indeed, I don’t believe they ever -does; especially when they is a talkin’ pullyticks. ’Case, you see, Miss -Ally, I done sent ’em in four dozen scallop crabs and six dozen raw open -Nanticoke oysters, each one of ’em as big as the palm of my hand, and -two deviled turkeys, and bless patience if they didn’t put all that away -in less than an hour, and sent for more.” - -“Well, they will want a hot supper by and by, that is certain. So take -the candle, Milly, and go before me. I am going down to the library door -to speak to General Garnet.” - -Milly lifted the candlestick, and preceded her mistress down the stairs. - -When she reached the library door Alice stepped before her and rapped. - -General Garnet came to the door and opened it. On seeing his wife: - -“Well, what do you want now? Didn’t I direct you to keep your chamber -until I came?” he inquired sternly. - -“Yes; and I would have done so, but your visitors are staying longer -than you or I supposed. Perhaps they will need supper; shall I order -it?” - -“No! Mind your own business. Don’t go beyond your orders. Return to your -room and wait me there,” he said, and shut the door in her face. - -Alice sighed, and turned from the door. - -Milly was indignant. This was the first time she had ever positively -witnessed any disrespect shown to her beloved mistress. And Milly boiled -with rage. - -“High! Who he? Mus’ think how people ’fraid o’ him. My Lor’! I only jes’ -wish how my ole man, Tom, ’ould turn a darned etarnal fool in his ole -days, and talk to me so! that’s all! ‘High!’ I say, ‘Nigger, better hit -somebody, hadn’t you? Is you done tuk o’ your ole woolly head’s senses?’ -’Deed I would. Look here, Miss Ally, honey! Don’t you put up o’ that -there shortness. Now Miss Elsie’s gone, he can’t spite you any way. He -daren’t hit you. ’Case why? ’case the law protects you. Now, Miss Ally, -I say, you take my ’vice. You jes’ pluck up a sperit and turn on him. -And put a ’stonishment on to him. Jes’ you step it over him in style. -Make him walk chalk. Ses you, ‘Now, you behave yourself, or I’ll unmask -you afore all the world, and let people see how pretty you are underneat -of your smiles.’ Lor’, Miss Ally, if men aint the easiest spil’t and -a-made fools of, of all the dumb beasts as ever wore shoe leather. -There’s my old man, Tom. Why, anybody’d think he was the bestest old -nigger as ever said prayers. But Lor’! when we first took up ’long o’ -each other, the cussed infunnally fool thought he was master; thought -how he’d got a nigger of his own. Ugh—umph! I soon took him out o’ that -there. I wa’nt a-goin’ to lay down on the ground and let people walk on -me. Now he ’haves himself as a man ought to do. ’Twon’t do, Miss Ally, -’deed it won’t, Miss Ally! to spile men folks. Men folks ’quire to be -made to know their places. ’Deed, ’fore my Heavenly Marster, they do, -honey.” - -Doubtless Alice would have rebuked this freedom of speech, had she heard -one word of it; but she did not. She only knew that Milly was twaddling -some monotonous strain of monologue, as she carried the candle before -her upstairs. - -Arrived within her chamber Alice dismissed her maid, refusing all -refreshment, and threw herself, exhausted and anxious, upon her bed. - -As the hours passed slowly away, sounds of revelry from below stairs -began to reach and disturb her. As time wore on toward midnight these -orgies became louder and higher. Vociferous laughter, shouting songs and -thundering cheers mingled in a strange wild discord, and broke -startlingly upon the aristocratic repose of that mansion and the holy -quiet of that night. Alice listened in fear and trembling and disgust, -for such orgies were unprecedented there. - -At length, long after midnight, the company broke up in great disorder. -Alice listened shudderingly to their noisy leave-taking, as with jocular -songs, coarse jests, vociferous cheers and laughter, they departed. Then -she heard the closing of doors and windows, and the steps of General -Garnet as he moved about the house. Lastly, she heard him coming up the -stairs. He entered the chamber. Alice rose to meet him. - -“Oh, you are waiting to hear something about Elsie. Well, sit down,” -said he, putting down the night-lamp, closing the door, and turning to -her with a sarcastic smile. - -Alice had sunk into a chair, faint, sickened by the sight of the demon -leer that now he did not even turn to conceal. - -“Well, now, what questions do you want to put to me? I am quite ready to -answer any,” he said, dropping himself into a chair before her, crossing -his feet, folding his arms, and leaning back. - -“Elsie, then? Have you seen her?” - -“No.” - -“What, not seen Elsie!” she repeated, with a look of deep -disappointment. “Not seen Elsie?” - -“No,” he answered again, looking at her with steady, imperturbable -contempt. - -“But you—you intend to see her?” asked Alice, with a sinking voice. - -“Never! Never, so help me Heaven! And now listen, minion! fool! It was -for the purpose of punishing her and you—of beggaring her and you, that -I obtained that deed!” he exclaimed, malice, scorn, taunting triumph -writhing around his lips, flashing from his eyes, and lighting up the -whole dark face with a lurid demoniac fire. - -Alice stared at him for an instant with a marble-like immobility of -countenance, as if it were impossible for her to comprehend such black -treachery. - -Stretching out his arm, and pointing his finger at her, he laughed -aloud. - -Then the spell of amazement that checked the current of her blood was -broken, and slowly from the pallid lips came the words: - -“Oh, my God! I understand it all now!” - -“Ha! ha! ha! do you?” - -“All—all,” she continued, without withdrawing her steady gaze—“all, all. -I have sold my birthright and hers, for—a kiss!” - -“Ha! ha! ha! Well, what do you want to complain of? You got the kiss,” -he exclaimed, in the most insulting manner. - -“I have sold her birthright for a kiss! a serpent’s kiss! a Judas kiss!” -cried Alice, wildly wringing her hands. - -“Come, Mrs. Garnet, no hard words, if you please. Remember how you hung -upon me this morning. You were so affectionate! I was quite flattered; -grew ‘quite in favor with myself,’ and almost with you—only it is -impossible to rekindle ashes.” - -“Oh, fiend, fiend! remorseless fiend! I shall go mad! Oh, God! where -sleep your thunderbolts?” cried Alice, rising, and walking distractedly -up and down the floor. - -“Come, madam. No more of this. I am tired of it. Resume your seat,” -exclaimed General Garnet, leaving his scornful, taunting manner, and -speaking in the deep, stern tones of haughty command. - -But Alice heard him not, as she walked wildly up and down the room, -crying: - -“Oh, God! God! where rest your thunderbolts?” - -“Do you hear me? Sit down, I say! or, by Heaven, I will send you in -search of the thunderbolts!” - -But Alice was not to be stopped now. Still wildly walking up and down -the floor, distractedly wringing her hands, she was pouring forth the -gathered bitterness of many years. - -“I have borne so much, great God. I have borne so much. Oh, I have been -a woman ‘of sorrows and acquainted with grief.’ And who is it that has -made my life, my harmless life, one long pain? You, General Garnet, you. -You married me by force, you know you did. In my young girlhood—nay, in -my innocent childhood, when life opened to me with such a bright promise -of usefulness and happiness with one I loved, with one to whom my faith -was plighted, you tore me away from that one, and made his life a -useless, barren waste, and married me yourself, for your own selfish -purposes, and nearly broke my heart and crazed my brain. God knows I -have no clear recollection now of the months that followed my marriage. -Well! Well! Well! ‘Time and the hour beareth away all things,’ and as -time passed, I learned to love you. Because you were my husband, and the -father of my child, and because it was the great necessity of my nature -to love, I loved you. God knows, I think there was no other reason. Oh, -if Heaven gave me one idea purer and higher than all the rest, it was -that of the beauty and holiness of marriage! And though mine was a -miserable sacrifice, so great was my need to live in an atmosphere of -love and piety, that I tried to make a sort of temple of it. It was a -wild ruin. Oh, worse! it was a ridiculous failure! This hour has proved -it. Ha! ha! ha! Hark! did I laugh? No, it was not I. I have nothing to -laugh at in earnest, and I never laugh in scorn. But there are two -spirits in me now, and one mocks at the other.” - -“Sit down, this moment, sit down!” thundered General Garnet, stamping -furiously. - - “But heedless as the dead was she - Of all around, above, beneath!” - -Of all but the stormy outpouring of thought and feeling, from her own -over-burdened heart and brain. - -“When you trampled all my rights and my happiness beneath your feet, -when you seized and married me against my will, I excused you, for I -said you loved me with a strong passion, and strong passions have their -necessities and their rights. When you required me to give up my dearest -friends, and lay aside habits of study and elegant amusements, that were -a second nature to me, I said that your position gave you a right to -dictate to me, and I acquiesced without a murmur. When you took my -little child away from me, the only comfort I had left in the world, and -sent her across the ocean, to remain at school for many years, I said -you were her father, and what you did was doubtless intended for her -good, however mistaken the intention might be, and I submitted. -Recently, when you have laid violent hands upon my person, and -endangered my life, I said it was violence of temper, not malignity of -heart, and I resolved, for your sake and mine, to keep our secret, and -to bear with it. I excused it—nay, I went farther, and vindicated it. No -ill-usage, from mere violence of temper, could have affected my -happiness. I do not know but that I thought you had a right to strike me -if you were angry. Because I was superstitious and fanatical, and -because I loved you then. They say that ‘perfect love casteth out fear.’ -My love, imperfect as it was, cast out fear. When I conscientiously -assisted at Elsie’s marriage, and remained home here to meet you, I -nerved my heart to bear all your fury. I even said it would be just, -coming from you. And no matter how much I had suffered at your hands, no -matter if you had left me for dead, as you did once before, if I had -recovered I could have gone on cheerily with my daily duties, as if -nothing had happened. Because I could have understood violence, as I -said: I could have understood anything that grew out of heat of -passion—anything, but this clear-headed, cold-blooded treachery—because -I loved you then. Nay! My God! I believe in my soul, I love you yet, and -it is that which stings my self-respect to madness. It is that which -lays my soul open to the entrance of the scornful, jibing spirit that -mocks at my holiest instincts.” - -“Sit down! Sit down, I say!” vociferated General Garnet, striding toward -her. - -Suddenly she fell at his feet, and raised her clasped hands, saying: - -“I am mad! I am mad! Two spirits possess me—a mad and a sane one. It is -the mad spirit that impels me to say now—while your serpent-treachery -folds its cold, damp coils about my heart, and not so much stings as -chills me to death—to say now, in the face of all reason—while the same -spirit keeps before me—to say, only forgive Elsie! only be reconciled -with her, and take all the rest; and I will try to forget that I have -been deceived and scorned. At least I will never, never harbor the -thought, much less give it expression again. Come, forgive your child! -You cannot be forever obdurate to your child! Be reconciled to her, and -I will believe that anger and disappointment bereft you of your -reason—for a little while—and that it was only during a temporary fit of -insanity that you could have done such a thing. And I will honor you -again.” - -“Pooh! fudge! You are not so mad as to believe the words you are -saying,” said General Garnet, jerking her up and flinging her upon the -sofa. “There, be quiet; I hate raving. And now listen to what I have to -say in regard to Elsie: I will never see her, or speak to her, or -receive a letter or a message from her, under any circumstances -whatever, so long as I live. I will never permit you to see her, or -speak to her, or hold any communication, by letter or message, with her, -under any circumstances that may occur, so long as you live. I will -never give her an acre of land, or a cent of money, or an article of -food, or raiment, or fuel, to save her from starvation or freezing!” - -Alice, exhausted, prostrate, gazed at him in horror, as with a darkened -and ferocious countenance, and a voice of concentrated hatred, so deep -as to be nearly inaudible, he continued: - -“If she were to dare to set foot upon this plantation I would loosen my -bloodhounds upon her!” - -“Fiend—you are the only bloodhound that would hurt her. Turn them loose -on her, then—do it! They would crouch at her feet! They would lick her -hands—her beautiful hands—that have fed and caressed them all. Or get -strange dogs to hunt her with, and even they would grovel before the -angel in her eyes. Oh, fool!—you are the only brute on God’s creation -that would harm her,” said Alice, in a low, deep tone. - -General Garnet continued, as if he had not heard her: - -“If she were lying, dying, at my gate I would not suffer one of my -negroes to hand her a drink of water, if that drink of water would save -her from death!” - -“Demon—there is not a man, woman, or child on this plantation that you -could hinder, with all your malice and power, from rendering Elsie any -service she might require—unless you imprisoned them, or tied them hand -and foot!” said Alice, in a dying voice. - -Still he continued, without attending to her indignant but faint -interruptions. And his face became still more dark and demoniac. - -“And now comes the very best part of the argument, which, like a good -orator, I have saved for the very last—I wonder how you will like it! I -shall take pleasure in watching the play of your pretty features while I -tell you, and dissecting and analyzing the emotions of your heart as you -hear! And saying within myself—there is so much regret, and there is so -much shame, and there is so much jealousy, and there is so much rage. -Listen, then—you have disappointed me in my first plan for uniting two -great estates. Before I have done I will make you regret that. The -estates shall be united yet. You have taught your daughter to disobey -me. Very well; you have bereft her of her birthright for a caress, to -your shame be it remembered—and I have discarded and disowned her. But, -listen: I have another daughter—the child of my love—ha!—are you pale -with jealousy? Listen, farther yet: all the broad lands of Mount Calm -that came by you, and should descend to your child, and enrich her, will -I bestow upon the child of my love; and her hand will I bestow upon -Lionel Hardcastle, who will be glad to accept it, no doubt. Ha! Now die -of rage!” he exclaimed, with a ferocious laugh. - -But neither regret, shame, nor jealousy, nor rage, disfigured that -peaceful face, or agitated that composed figure. General Garnet, who -glanced at her first in triumph, now gazed in awe. Her eyes were closed, -her hands had fallen. Her whole figure expressed perfect repose. She -looked as if the Angel of Death had laid hand upon her head, and said to -that storm-tossed life, “Peace—be still.” “And there had fallen a Great -Calm.” - - - - - CHAPTER XXVI. - DAY AFTER THE WEDDING. - - What is the world to them? - Its pomp, its pleasure, and its nonsense all? - Who in each other clasp whatever fair, - High fancy forms and lavish hearts can wish, - Or in the mind or mind-illumined face; - Truth, goodness, honor, harmony and love, - The richest bounty of indulgent Heaven! - _—Thompson._ - - -At break of day a large traveling wagon, strongly and compactly built, -and neatly roofed with snow-white tent-cloth stretched lightly over -hoops, and drawn by two stout gray mules, stood before the village hotel -at Huttontown. This wagon was closely packed with a small assortment of -cabin furniture. All this “household stuff” was perfectly new, clean, -neat, and bright, and snugly stowed away in the back and middle part of -the wagon. Near the front of the vehicle stood a small, flag-bottomed -armchair, wedged tightly in between boxes and trunks, so that it could -not be jostled by the motion of the wagon. It is needless to say that -this was the “traveling carriage” of our bridal pair, or that the little -flag-bottomed chair was provided for the especial convenience and -comfort of the bride. Early as the hour was, a crowd of village -neighbors had collected for the pleasure of seeing the “bride and groom” -come out, and the wagon start “for the Western country.” Among the -assembled villagers was a fine, handsome boy of ten or twelve years of -age, who volunteered to hold the reins until the travelers should come -forth. - -The people had not very long to wait. The front door of the hotel -opened, and Dr. Hardcastle, clad in a large, shaggy overcoat and -overalls, and fox-skin cap and gloves, and looking as great, energetic, -and joyous as ever, came out, leading Elsie, wrapped in a full, brown -cloth cloak, with her healthful, happy face blooming and smiling from -out the comfortable rolls of a wadded, brown silk hood. - -Magnus nodded and smiled as he shook hands hastily right and left, and -hurried Elsie toward the wagon. He lifted her in, fixed her comfortably -in her chair, wrapped the ample folds of her cloak about her, and tucked -it snugly around her feet, with a solicitous care for her and a total -indifference to the eyes of the lookers-on that provoked their merriment -into peals of good-humored laughter, accompanied by exclamations of: -“That is right, doctor. Take good care of her, God bless her! That’s -right, doctor. That’s the way. Tuck her up warm. Indeed, her chin will -freeze, if you don’t muffle that comforter closer around her throat.” - -“Oh, hurry! let’s escape this!” whispered Elsie, laughing and blushing. - -“Never mind, dear! Never mind their rough manners. You are too generous -and large-hearted to feel anger or contempt at their unrefined method of -expressing their sympathy, which is really more sincere and earnest than -all the congratulations in elegant phrases that ladies and gentlemen -give and receive upon such occasions. Let us have patience with -uncultivated Nature, dear Elsie, for we are going to live with her a -long time. At least, have any other feeling for humanity rather than -contempt, dear Elsie,” replied Magnus, as he finished arranging her -cloak. - -“Me! me presume to feel contempt for my rough, honest, kindly neighbors! -Oh, Magnus, never! I will prove to you that I do not!” exclaimed Elsie, -in a low, hurried voice. - -Then Magnus sprang into his seat, and took the reins from the hands of -the lad. - -As he gave them up, the boy fixed a long, lingering, wistful look at the -wagon and its occupants. - -“You look as if you had half a mind to accompany us, my boy,” said Dr. -Hardcastle, as he read the expression of the lad’s countenance. - -“Oh, I have, sir! for I feel I could be useful, almost necessary to you, -and beneficial to myself, if I could go; but I cannot, for I have a -little girl to take care of at home.” - -“A little girl to take care of? You!” - -“Yes, sir, my little sister, or rather she is just like my little -sister. We live on Hutton Island.” - -“Oh, yes! the two Children of the Isle. How come you over here so early, -my boy?” - -“I came over to bring some maninosies to the tavern, sir, in time for -them to be prepared for breakfast. I expect you ate some of them -yourself, sir.” - -“Yes, and they were very good.” - -“My sister and I gathered them, sir.” - -“Yes. Well, my boy, you look like a fine, independent, enterprising lad. -Rely on God and yourself, improve your mind, be honest, industrious, and -frugal, and you will make your own way in the world. What is your name?” - -“Hugh Hutton, sir.” - -“Yes, young Hutton of the Isles, one of the ‘Scotch lairds,’ as the -people used to call them for their pride and——” - -“Poverty,” calmly concluded the boy. - -“Well, child, they go admirably together. Hold to your pride as long as -you are poor, and cast it away when you become rich. Well, Hugh, I will -not forget you, or lose sight of you. Some day I shall come back, and -then you may return with me. Good-by,” said Dr. Hardcastle, shaking -hands with the boy. - -Then he arose in his seat, lifted his cap, and waved farewell to the -neighbors. Elsie kissed her hand to them several times, blushing -brightly as they all waved their hats and handkerchiefs, and amid the -cheers and benedictions of the little crowd the wagon started. - -“We must make thirty miles to-day, dear Elsie, and reach Deep Dell by -nightfall if possible,” said Magnus. - -“Oh, how I wish that fine boy were really with us. How useful he could -be to you, and what a man you could make of him!” said she, looking back -to where Hugh stood, the last of the crowd, watching the departing -wagon. - -“God has made a man of him already, dear Elsie. What a fine, independent -look he has! Yes, I could have wished him to go with us; a very strong -sympathy attracts me to that boy. I should be very proud of that boy.” - -“He will be gentle and great like you. He reminds me of what you were at -his age, when you used to carry me about the forest in your arms, as -joyous as a boy, yet as careful as a woman. I thought of that when he -talked about his sister. Magnus, I used to feel as if I should so love -to have a sister or to be a sister. There is such a sweet and tender -thought in sisterhood—children of the same mother. Just now I thought -that boy’s voice took a tone of modulated sweetness when he spoke of his -sister. Yet his very gentleness must be the playfulness of a lion’s -cub—there is such fire in his grand eyes, that reminded me of you, too. -Oh, Magnus, do you know what I have been thinking of? what great music -has been sounding its majestic harmony through my soul this morning as I -journey by your side into the wilderness? Listen: - - “Thy spirit, Independence, let me share, - Lord of the lion heart and eagle eye! - Thy steps I follow with my bosom bare, - Nor heed the storm that howls along the sky. - -“And I feel as if you were that very incarnate spirit of Independence, -and I am sure that that boy was the worshiping disciple who was ready to -follow you. And as for me, Magnus,” she continued, laughing, “there is -such a superfluous amount of energy in my little body and soul this -morning, that I feel as if I could not only brave and bear hardships and -peril by your side, but should be disappointed if they did not come.” - -“You have so much resistance, Elsie! but do not do with your wealth of -energy as the prodigal son did with his wealth of money, spend it all at -the outset; and, as an illustration of what I mean, put your hands -within your cloak, and fold it closely around your chest—we are about to -turn and face a sharp, if not a violent northwester, and after the sun -is fully up you will see that it will blow harder,” said Magnus, as they -turned the end of the street and entered the turnpike road. - -It was a glorious winter day; the sun now arose in cloudless splendor, -lighting up the snow-clad hills and plains and ice-spangled forest trees -and bushes into flashing, dazzling radiance, while far away behind them -dashed and sparkled the green waters of the Chesapeake, like a sea of -molten emeralds. - -Their road, after leaving the village, lay over the snowy hills and -plains, and through the forest around the base of Mount Calm. In making -the circuit they once came in full view of the front of the mansion -house, and Elsie, seizing her husband’s arm, exclaimed: - -“Magnus, tie your pocket-handkerchief at the end of your stick, and get -up and wave it. I know that our beloved mother has been watching at that -window for the last hour to see us pass. I know it, though it is too -distant to see her distinctly; yet I think I see somebody there. Wave -it, Magnus, and then we’ll know.” - -Dr. Hardcastle stood up, lifted the impromptu flag on high, and -presently the signal was returned by a white cloth waved from the -window, and instantly withdrawn. - -“She saw us, she saw us, Magnus! But stay! why didn’t she look out?” - -“It would not have been safe on such a sharp morning as this for your -mother to run her head out of the window in that bleak, exposed -position,” said Magnus, repressing the various vague forebodings of his -heart. - -“I am afraid something has happened to mother, Magnus. Oh! indeed, I -feel as if something had,” said Elsie anxiously. - -“Nonsense, my love. I saw some of the gentlemen who were there last -night until twelve, and who slept at the hotel, and one of them told me -when I inquired, that all the family were well. However, Elsie, in -driving around we will see some of the colored folks, and receive fresh -assurance. Elsie, dear, it is solely on your mother’s account that I do -not turn into the grounds and drive up to the mansion house now, and -make a last effort at reconciliation with your father. I know, Elsie, -that it would only subject her to a violent and perhaps fatal scene. I -know, poor child, that it is a great trial to you to pass by your -father’s house, bound for a long journey, and a new, strange life, -without stopping to ask his blessing. Oh! I know it, my poor Elsie! but -keep your courage; this is the sharpest, and it is also the last trial -you shall have.” - -“Oh, my courage is up,” said Elsie, dashing the sparkling tears from her -eyes, and smiling out like an April sun from the clouds. “These, father, -are the very last tears I am going to shed. No, indeed, won’t I weep, -and make you sad for me, my dear Magnus! No, indeed, won’t I, for -anybody’s cruelty and injustice!” - -“Hush, hush, my darling! ‘The heart grows bitter by saying bitter -things,’” said Magnus, kissing the dew-drops from her rosy cheek. - -“Gee up, Dobbin! Make them gee up, Magnus,” said Elsie, poking at the -mules with the point of her umbrella. - -Magnus put whip to the animals, and they started afresh. Soon, in -turning around toward the back of Mount Calm, they came to a group of -negroes just starting to their work. Every man of them dropped his hat, -and stood bowing, smiling, and grimacing at the sight of their young -mistress. Magnus stopped the wagon. - -“How are they all at the house, Uncle Bob?” he asked of the driver. - -“All fus’ rate, sir! ’Deed dey is, Miss Elsie, honey.” - -“Are you sure that mother is quite well, Bob?” - -“’Deed, fus’ rate, Miss Elsie! ’Deed is her, honey!” - -“How do you know, Uncle Bob? You never go to the house.” - -“’Deed, honey, sister Milly told me; ’deed, honey, you needn’t be ’t all -oneasy, nor likewise ’stress in your mind ’bout your ma! De madam is -fus’ rate—’deed her is. Der wa’n’t nothin’ of no fuss, nuther, -honey!—eberyting passed off quite quiet. Marse Iron he had some company -las’ night, and ’joyed himself ’long o’ de gemmen very much.” - -It is unnecessary to say that “Iron” was the negro corruption of Aaron, -and not an unapt translation, either. - -“And mother is well and cheerful?” - -“High! what I tell you, Miss Elsie? Think I gwine to ax you a lie? De -madam is fus’rate!” - -“Thank Heaven, then! Here, Bob, here is a keepsake for you. It is a -little prayer-book that I have carried in my pocket ever since I first -left home for England. I held it in my hand when I was married, and I -intended to carry it out West with me; but here, you shall have it. And, -Bob, give my love to mother, and tell her that I am very happy—you hear, -Bob?” - -“Yes, miss.” - -“And give her this letter also, Bob,” said Dr. Hardcastle, taking one -ready sealed and directed from his pocket. - -Then they took leave of the colored folks, shook hands with Uncle Bob, -and started. Again Elsie called the driver back. - -“Now, be sure to tell my dear mother that she must not have a thought or -a care for me. Tell her I am very happy.” - -“Yes, Miss Elsie; yes, honey; I’ll be sure to tell her—’deed, God -A’mighty knows will I. Good-by! God bless you, Miss Elsie, and you, too, -Marse Magnet! I wishes you both all the good luck in the worl’—’deed I -does, children!—’deed, God A’mighty knows does I—I don’t care what ole -marse say!” - -And Uncle Bob hurried off after his staff of workmen, leaving the wagon -pursuing its way. - -Suddenly, with one of his impetuous bursts of emotion, Magnus threw his -arms around the form of his bride, and drew her to his bosom, -exclaiming: - -“Oh, Elsie! every now and then I realize, with a sort of quick, sharp, -almost mortal pang of joy, that you really are my wife! Oh, Elsie, my -love! my child! there lives not a being on earth so happy as I! There -lives not a creature in heaven so happy as I!” - -And she sank upon his bosom, pale, faint, with excess of joy. The reins -were loosed, the mules came to a standstill on the decline of the hill, -when Elsie, with one of her sudden, healthful rebounds from the bathos -of sentiment, sprang laughing up, and seizing the reins, exclaimed: - -“Gee up, Dobbin! Magnus, why don’t you make them gee up? We shall not -make our thirty miles to-day.” - -Magnus took the reins from her hands, flourished the whip, and they set -off in earnest, unmindful of a cynical old negro by the roadside, who, -watching them as he bagged his snow-birds from the trap, said: - -“The cussed infunnally young fools! I s’pose dey tink it always gwine be -jes’ so! Gor A’mighty help ’em! Aar, Lor’! der troubles is all afore -’em, like young bearses!” - -And they went on, happy, hopeful, confident, and justly confident; -recalling the past with its childish pleasures, planning for the future, -pointing out to each other familiar places in the forest, and spots -associated with some childish reminiscence—now it was the very tree -where Magnus first took her to gather chestnuts; now the very dell where -he set traps to catch snow-birds for her; now the thicket where the wild -rose-bushes bore so full in spring; now the glade that was red with -strawberries in May; and so, talking and laughing, hoping and believing, -billing and cooing, our pair of turtledoves pursued their Westerly -flight. - - - - - CHAPTER XXVII. - DEEP DELL—COUNTRY TAVERN. - - Here rustic statesmen talked with looks profound, - And news much older than their ale went round. - _—Goldsmith._ - - -It was far into the night when they reached Deep Dell, and put up at the -large log tavern that fulfilled the manifold duties of country store, -post office, smithy, meetinghouse, and hotel, and was consequently a -place of great bustle, if not business. Here our emigrant pair, by -special favor, were accommodated with the landlady’s own parlor, and -promised a private supper. The tavern was full of people, for this was -mail day, and the post-boy from Huttontown was expected every moment. - -Magnus went out to put his wagon under cover, and to feed and stable his -mules. - -And Elsie sat to employ his absence in writing a few lines to her -mother, which she inclosed and directed to Mr. Wilson, the young -Methodist minister. - -She had scarcely concluded when supper, consisting of fine coffee and -rich cream, buckwheat cakes, fresh butter, and venison steaks with -currant jelly, was brought in and neatly arranged upon the table. - -Magnus came in, and Elsie, with a blush and a smile, took her seat at -the head of the board. This was the first time she had “done the honors -of the table,” and her half-womanly, half-childly heart was pleased at -the novelty of her position. - -As for Magnus, he was as gravely comfortable as if he had been used to -his vis-a-vis all his life. - -Very early the next morning the mules were fed and watered and put to -the wagon, and a substantial breakfast prepared for our travelers. - -But when Magnus went to the bar to pay his bill, the barkeeper, with the -slow nonchalance of a country postmaster, handed him a letter, which he -said had been brought by the Huttontown post-boy late the night -previous. Magnus took the letter. It was superscribed in the handwriting -of Mr. Wilson. He turned it to break it open, and found, to his dismay, -that the seal was black. He tore it open. It was short, even abrupt in -its annunciation. - - “HUTTONTOWN, December 18, 18—. - - “DR. HARDCASTLE. - - “MY DEAR FRIEND: I keep the post-boy waiting while I write to announce - the painful intelligence of the death of Mrs. Garnet. She expired - suddenly about two o’clock this morning—three hours before you left - Huttontown, although we did not receive the sad news of her decease - until seven o’clock. The funeral is fixed for to-morrow afternoon at - four. Return immediately, if you would be present to pay the last - respects to the memory of the sainted dead. May Heaven grant that this - season of awful and mutual bereavement may be sanctified to the hearts - and souls of the father and daughter, of the father-in-law and the - son-in-law, and that you may be all reconciled—each to the other, and - all to God—is the prayer of - - “Your brother in Christian love, - “EBENEZER WILSON.” - -“Why, why was not this letter given me last night?” exclaimed Dr. -Hardcastle, in strong excitement. - -“Because, sir, the mail did not get in until an hour after you had gone -to bed.” - -“Have you any description of carriage here, lighter than my wagon? We -must set off instantly, on our return to Huttontown.” - -“I hope there’s no bad news, sir?” - -“Yes—my wife’s mother died yesterday.” - -“Good Heaven, sir; was the poor lady sick when you left?” - -“No, no—it was unexpected—quite suddenly; we left her in perfect health. -Is there any vehicle I can procure?” - -“Why, sir—dear me, this is very shocking; I am very sorry to hear it. -Yes, there’s Mrs. Barber—her old carryall.” - -“Have my mules put to it on the instant,” said Magnus; and pale with -trouble, he went into the little breakfast parlor where Elsie sat at the -head of the breakfast table awaiting. His grave demeanor, his troubled -face, and the open letter with the broken black seal, alarmed her. -Starting up in haste, she rushed to his side. He threw his arms around -her, and placed the letter in her hand. - -Elsie read the first lines. She was too strong and full of blood to -faint, but the strength and sanguinity that kept her from falling under -the sudden, tremendous blow gave greater energy and passion to her -grief. Breaking from her husband’s arms, with a wild shriek she gave -herself up to passionate lamentations and bitter self-reproaches. - -“I should not have left her—I should not have left her! Oh! I see now, -it was thoughtless—it was selfish—it was cruel to leave her! If I could -scarcely bear my father’s tyranny, how could she? How could she—so -delicate, so sensitive! Died suddenly!—oh, yes, done to death—done to -death! And to keep it secret for four or five hours—oh!” - -“Elsie—dear, darling Elsie—hush! Do not say bitter and sinful things, -which you will repent.” - -“Oh, don’t put your arms around me, Magnus! It would be heinous for me -to be loved, or comforted by your sympathy, now. I who left my gentle, -fragile mother alone, to be done to death for me; my dove-like mother, -in the claws of the vulture. I, who was so much stronger, and who, -having your protection also, should have remained to protect her. I to -leave her, defenseless, and in peril for my sake, and to come flaunting -off, so happy and thoughtless, like a very matron. Oh, Magnus, I could -go to a nunnery, Magnus—I could go to a nunnery, Magnus. A hundred -serpents are gnawing at my heart! Oh, Magnus, I can never be happy—never -make you happy in this world again. Oh, Magnus, I am sorry—so sorry for -you, too! You did not deserve a sorrow-stricken, remorseful wife. Oh, -mother, dear, gentle mother, what harm did your innocent life do to -anyone, that it should have been trampled out?” - -And then she burst into tears—such copious tears, such floods of tears, -as only one of her strong and sanguine temperament could have shed. - -Tears and lamentations are the natural vent of a healthful sorrow. It is -only the sorrow unto death that is mute and dry. - -And while she was drowned in tears, and wringing her hands, and wailing, -and talking, Magnus walked up and down the floor, waiting as patiently -as he would have waited for a storm of thunder, lightning, and rain to -subside, except when some unfilial expression of bitter indignation -against her father would escape her lips, when he would go up to her, -and gently risk to stop her. - -“Dear Elsie, you must not speak so. Nothing that your father can do or -say to me, or to others, can affect your duty toward him. Elsie, you -must speak of your father with respect, or not speak of him at all. That -is what your sainted mother would have advised, and, gentle as she was, -enforced. There was nothing more admirable in Alice Garnet’s blameless -character and conduct than the delicate reserve with which she concealed -her own sufferings, and the gentle dignity with which she constrained -the respect of all her friends for General Garnet. I often compared her -to the dove, folding her wing over her mortal wound, to hide it from all -eyes.” - -“Blessed mother!—oh, angel mother!” said Elsie, bursting into fresh -floods. - -“She respected the husband in General Garnet—will you not respect the -father?” at last said Magnus. - -“Oh, yes—yes, I will, indeed! I will never say another word about him. -If I do, stop me—don’t let me, please, Magnus. I don’t wish to do wrong; -but, oh, Magnus, is it not enough to try one’s faith—to kill one’s -faith—when one so good as my mother is permitted to suffer and to die?” -exclaimed Elsie, giving way to another extravagant burst of sorrow. - -Magnus knelt by her side, and took her hands, and stroked her hair, and -wiped her tears, until the fresh gush of grief had spent itself, and -then he said: - -“Dear Elsie, it is the great strengthener and supporter of faith—the -sufferings and premature death of the good. It makes immortality, -heaven, certain, because necessary; and necessary, because just. Dear -Elsie, what is the life and death of Christ intended to teach? What is -the resurrection and ascension intended to insure?” - -“I know—oh, I know she is an angel in heaven; but heaven itself needs -‘familiarizing’ to our feelings, before it can console us for the -lost—much.” - -At this moment the barkeeper came in, and said that the carryall was -ready. Dr. Hardcastle re-arranged the cloak around his almost helpless -companion, tied her hood, and leading her out, fixed her in the back of -the carryall. - -Three o’clock came, and they had still fifteen miles to go. The mules -went in a fast trot. Four o’clock came, and ten miles lay before them. -Five o’clock came; it was nearly dark, and they were still several miles -from town. At length, at a little before six, when it was quite dark and -piercing cold, they entered Huttontown. - -Elsie had long in silence given up the hope of getting even to the -church in time for the funeral service there; and now she whispered, in -a low, solemn, sorrow-fraught tone: - -“Drive to the church—to the house of the sexton. We must see her again, -if only in the vault.” - -“It will be too much for you, oh, my Elsie!” - -“No, no; I entreat, I implore you, take me to the vault.” - - - - - CHAPTER XXVIII. - THE VAULT. - - Death, that hath sucked the honey of thy breath, - Hath had no power as yet upon thy beauty; - Thou art not conquered! Beauty’s ensign yet - Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, - And Death’s pale flag is not advanced there. - _—Shakspere._ - - -A silent drive of about half an hour’s length brought them to the deep -and sheltered forest dell in which St. John’s Church stood. Surrounding -the dell was the boundless forest, whose nearer trees stood up, stark -and black, in strong contrast with the snow. Within the circle of these -grim trees gleamed a single ray of red light, shooting in a line of -crimson across the graveyard. This came from the window of the old -sexton’s log house, that stood just within the shelter of the forest. -Taking this ghostly light as their guide, and picking their way -cautiously and reverently among the tombs, they approached the lone -dwelling. As they drew near they saw the light flitting backward and -forward in the house, and then perceived an old negro with a saddled -mule at the gate. - -Before Dr. Hardcastle could speak to ask a question the door of the -house was opened, and the old sexton came forth, clad in a shaggy -overcoat, fox-cap, and fur gloves, and carrying a lantern in his hand. -Seeing two strangers, he made an exclamation of surly surprise, and -asked their business. Dr. Hardcastle drew him apart, explained to him -who they were, and what they wanted. The old man then changed his tone, -invited them into his house, and, lantern in hand, slowly led the way. -With plain kindness, he took the hand of Elsie, and led her to a rude -armchair in the chimney corner, telling her that, being about to go away -for the night, he had put out the fire, but that he would soon kindle it -up again to warm her. Then going to an obscure corner of the room, he -brought forth a quantity of oily pine knots, and lighting one at the -candle in the lantern, and placing it on the hearth and piling other -around it, and heaping more upon them, in an instant he had a very hot -fire. Then he turned to Dr. Hardcastle, begging him to be seated, and -explained that he had just been summoned away to Green Mills to see his -brother, who was dangerously ill; that he had therefore to depart on the -instant, lest he should not see his brother alive; that if Dr. -Hardcastle would dispense with his services, and take the keys of the -church and let himself in, he would be very much obliged; farther, that -if Dr. Hardcastle should choose not to return to Huttontown in the -severe cold, this poor cottage was at his service, with all it -contained; only when the doctor left, would he please to put out the -fire, and lock up everything, both at the church and at the cottage, -securely, and put the bunch of keys under the stone by the doorstep. Dr. -Hardcastle thanked him, accepted the keys, promised security to all -things intrusted to his care, and even hastened to dismiss the old man. -When the sexton and the negro had departed, Magnus turned to Elsie, who -had sat all this time in the armchair by the chimney corner, with her -face covered by the flap of her cloak, and whispered: - -“Elsie, my dear, dear girl, pause, think; do not insist upon going into -the vault!” - -“Oh, yes! yes, I entreat you; something in my heart urges me beyond the -possibility of keeping back; haste! haste, I implore you. I am sick with -impatience while you hesitate. I feel as if something momentous, -something tremendous hung upon this instant of time; haste, haste!” she -said. - -“My darling, my poor darling, strong as you are, this has been too much -for you; you are nervous, excited, flighty; but, come along; I can take -care of you.” - -Elsie arose and took his arm, and solemnly and silently they passed out -of the old sexton’s house, and took their mournful way toward the -church. Solemnly and silently they entered its portals, and, dimly -lighted by the lantern, passed up its shadowy aisles—silently, but for -the mournful echo of their footsteps. The door of the vault was situated -at the side of the altar. Opening this door with reverential care, and -still bearing the lantern, Magnus Hardcastle descended, followed by -Elsie, pale with grief and awe, into its shadows. There is a depth of -solemnity about the last resting-place of the dead which overwhelms the -wildest sorrow with awe, and subdues it into deathlike stillness. Magnus -and Elsie entered the vault with profound calmness. But here was only -the darkness and repose of death. The vault, like the church, was new. -Only two mortals—an aged man and an infant—had been placed there to -rest, just before Alice Garnet fell asleep and was laid by their side. -As the two mourning pilgrims entered, the light of the lantern partially -revealed the new, gray stone walls, the white ground floor, and the -three coffins. That of Alice was, of course, easily recognized. -Reverently, mournfully, they approached and knelt by its side. With -reverent hands Magnus raised the top of the outer case. - -A glass-plate set in the lid of the coffin gave the features of the -quiet face once more to the view of the mourning son and daughter. There -was the face, even as Elsie had seen it often in its natural sleep; only -more serene than in slumber, for in her life the very sleep of Alice had -seemed troubled or too deathlike. Was this repose deathlike? Was this -death? Beautiful, strangely beautiful, was that heavenly face, in its -deep repose, in its rapt repose, for there was a look of ecstasy in the -countenance, in the elastic fullness of the muscles, in the faint color -on the rounded cheeks, and the full and pouting lips. Was this death? -Someone’s reverence for the beautiful had left the amber ringlets -straying from the close border of the cap, and now so lifelike looked -the lovely face, and these ringlets seemed to tremble as with a -trembling breath. Was this death? Was the suddenness with which life had -left the clay the cause of this lifelike look? There are moments when -the most rational have wild hopes, moments when the most habitually -self-collected doubt the evidence of their own senses; it was thus in -amaze that they gazed upon her countenance, seemingly instinct with -life; with the freshness, and fullness, and bloom of life; the color -seemed brightening upon her cheeks and lips with life; the eyelashes and -the amber ringlets seemed quivering with life, and even as they gazed -with amaze the view was obscured by a mist on the glass, and the -beautiful countenance veiled from their eyes. Elsie spoke with a voice -full of tears. - -“Oh, Magnus! dear Magnus! wipe off the glass. Our breath, as we looked -too close, has dulled it. I cannot see her angel face any longer for the -mist upon the glass.” - -Magnus drew out his silk pocket-handkerchief and wiped the glass -carefully. - -“I cannot see her yet, Magnus. I cannot see her yet. Oh, I want to see -her again, that that divine countenance may be indelibly fixed in my -memory—oh-h-h!” - -Magnus wiped the glass again very carefully, looked, wiped it a third -time most carefully, and, taking up the lantern, threw its whole light -upon the plate, rubbing it assiduously as he did so. Why did Dr. -Hardcastle start— - - “As if the Archangel’s trump he heard?” - -The new mist upon the glass was from within the coffin. To snatch a -hunting-knife from his belt, to wrench open the coffin lid with one -wrench of his strong hand and throw it off, to give her fresh air; to -snatch her from the coffin to the warmth and shelter of his living arms -and bosom; to turn to the thunder-stricken Elsie, and exclaim: - -“Elsie, don’t faint! Be strong, I command you! Your mother lives! she -lives! She has been placed here in apparent death only; she must not -recover to find herself in this dreadful place; to see these -grave-clothes; to know what horrors have befallen her, lest reason be -shocked forever from its seat. Give me your cloak, Elsie! Quick! quick! -My God, don’t faint, I abjure you; I’ll never forgive you if you faint -now. Your cloak, I say; your cloak, quick! to throw around this shroud, -which she must not see.” - -Elsie, with pallid lips and dilated eyes, too amazed and doubtful of her -own senses and sanity to receive the joyful truth, with mechanical -promptitude threw off her cloak and handed it to Magnus. - -“That’s my brave girl; that’s my pioneer wife!” he said, receiving the -cloak, and folding it hastily yet carefully around the form he held in -his arms, and pressing it closer to his bosom. “There, Elsie! Now, my -little heroine, shade the lantern; quick, Elsie, lest she open her eyes -and see the place we bear her from. Quick, Elsie! she is moving -restlessly in my arms now, and her form is getting warm, thank Heaven! -as warm almost as yours, my Elsie. There, now follow me closer behind, -Elsie, my little soldier, and you may let the lantern shine as soon as -we get out of the church.” - -And so, folding the form of Alice closer in his sustaining arms, closer -to his sheltering bosom, and followed by Elsie, bearing the darkened -lantern, he hurried up the stairs of the vault, down the aisle of the -church, out of the great door, and across the graveyard toward the -cottage of the sexton, never pausing in his speed until he reached the -door of the cabin, which, without stopping to unlatch, he pushed open -with a blow of his foot. - -He bore her in, followed by Elsie with the lantern. The fire they had -left there was still burning brightly, warming and lighting the whole -room. In the upper end of the apartment stood a poor but neat and -cleanly bed. - -Toward this he hastened with the form of Alice. He turned down the -cover, and, hastily divesting her of the heavy cloak, laid her in the -bed and covered her warmly up. He stooped and looked at her with intense -interest, then took her arm and felt her pulse. It was moderately full -and quick. He gazed upon her face. The color was still brightening in -her cheeks and lips; her eyelids were quivering as if about to fly open; -her full, fresh lips were slightly apart, as if about to speak; she was -moving gently, breathing softly, murmuring melodiously. He bent his ear -to catch that low, musical murmur; low and musical as the faintest -breath of the Æolian harp. The words of that strange melody were: “Oh, -angels, let me go! I—only I of all the earth love him well enough to be -the instrument of Christ for his redemption—I—only I of all the earth -have faith in its possibility.” - -“Wandering, flighty, delirious,” said Dr. Magnus, quietly dropping the -wrist he had held, and rising and going toward Elsie. “Elsie, I dare not -leave your mother for an instant now. Pick up your cloak, wrap yourself -well in it, take the lantern and haste to the gate, where we left the -carriage; take my medicine chest from the box, and bring it hither. -Haste, Elsie, haste! Every second counts a year of life.” - -Mechanically as an automaton Elsie had obeyed his every direction. She -looked unnatural with her pale face and great, dilated eyes. And she -performed her part with the abstracted air and literal and mathematical -precision of a sleep-walker. With this strange, absent air she went out, -and after an absence of about fifteen minutes returned with the medicine -chest. - -Magnus heard her coming and left his patient for an instant to open the -door and relieve her of her burden. But here another subject -unexpectedly arrested his attention and claimed his care. As she gave -the chest into his hands she stared straight at him—straight through him -and past him with such unconscious eyes that he grew alarmed for her. -Setting down the medicine chest upon a bench, he took her hands and drew -her up to the fire, and, laying his hand upon her shoulder, and looking -straight in her eyes, he said cheerfully: - -“Wake up, Elsie! Rouse yourself, my child! This is very awful, but not -unnatural.” - -“Oh-h-h!” sighed Elsie, dropping into the armchair. “Oh-h-h! I know it -is not unnatural, or uncommon, either, for loved ones to die, and hearts -to be bereaved and broken; but, dear Magnus, I am afraid I am going -crazy; I am afraid to tell you what I wildly imagined just now, what an -extravagant fancy I took into my head.” - -“What was it, then?” - -“Now, don’t be too much astounded at my folly, dear Magnus, for I have -been so grievously tried.” - -“What was it, then? Quick! I have no time for idle talk.” - -“Well, then, I fancied—oh-h-h! such a mad, frenzied fancy—that my -beloved mother was alive again. Am I not going mad? I thought my dear -mother was alive again!” - -“And you know she is!” he exclaimed, dropping his hand upon her -shoulder, with hearty, kindly roughness; “you know she is! Rouse -yourself this moment, Elsie; I command you; collect your thoughts; -remember where you are, and what has occurred. What sort of behavior is -this? Have I been premature and too partial in ascribing to you strength -of mind; courage, coolness, promptitude in emergency? Can I depend upon -you in extremity? Come out of this amazement this instant, Elsie! Wake -up, and make yourself useful; weakness is meanness. Be strong; strength -is grandeur. Be heroic; strength is heroism. Make me proud to call you -wife. Stand up, now; give me both your hands. Look me straight in the -eyes, and let me see if I cannot infuse some sanity and strength into -that amazed and fainting soul of yours.” - -Elsie placed the back of her hands against her brow, while she slowly -arose to her feet, and then, slowly throwing off her hands, as if to -dispel an illusion, she said: - -“There; the cloud has passed, Magnus; the weakness has left me; I will -be worthy of you. What is it that I can do, Magnus?” - -“There! I know you were not a poltroon; only a fatigued hero, Elsie. -Come, one kiss, and then to work.” - -And he caught her to his bosom with an ardent clasp and fervent kiss, -that inspired from his own rich and strong vitality all her life, and -warmth, and energy, and activity that her weaker nature needed at this -trying moment. Then he led her to the bedside of her mother, whispering -as he did so: - -“Now, my own heroic wife, no relapse into weakness.” - -“No, no, indeed, my strength; I will be worthy of you. Oh, Magnus, I -think you have life enough to raise me from the dead, if I were to die. -Oh, Magnus, I begin to realize now that she lives, and that I am -blessed; blessed to the fullness of content,” said Elsie, sinking upon -her knees and raising her clasped hands and streaming eyes to heaven. - -“Calmly, calmly, my Elsie,” said Magnus, laying his hand gently on her -head. “There, rise now, and sit beside your mother, and watch her, and -listen for her words, that we may know the nature of her illusion, and -not rudely shock it. She seems in a happy trance now—and her pulse is -good, yet her state is so critical that her waking must be watched for.” - -“Hush-h-h! her lips move! she speaks!” said Elsie, bending over her. -“Oh, mother! mother! darling mother! warm and living, restored to me! -What shall I render Heaven in exchange for thee? Hush-h-h! she is saying -something. Oh, Magnus, that look of quiet ecstasy has left her -countenance, and the troubled, earthly look she used to wear has come -again! What is the reason of it? oh, what is the reason of it? Oh, see -how her brow contracts! how her lips quiver! Oh, see her hands fly -together and clasp like vises! Oh, Magnus! Magnus do something! She is -going into a spasm.” - -“No, no, child; she is not. Natural life is coming again. Her mind is -taking up the train of thoughts at the place where it was lost. Nothing -can be done as yet, but to listen—yes, listen—she speaks again—hear!” - -“Forgive Elsie—only forgive Elsie, and I will forget that I have been -betrayed, and scorned, and trampled under foot. At least I will never, -never speak of it,” murmured Alice, in a heart-broken tone; and then her -hands flew up, her eyes flew open, and she looked around in the full -possession of all her faculties, which was evident from the surprise -with which she glanced upon the strange scene. - -Magnus and Elsie had drawn back, not to shock her with their sudden -appearance. - -Yes, catalepsy, epilepsy, apparent death—whatever the medical faculty in -their wisdom might have pronounced the fit to be that had held her life -spellbound for two days—was over, quite over, and she raised up in the -full possession of all her senses. - -“Where in the universe am I?” she asked, rising upon her elbow and -looking around. “Has he turned me out of doors, really, and has one of -the negroes taken me into a quarter during a fainting fit? Let me -recollect. What happened after he threw me down? I remember nothing -after that. ‘Now, die of rage’ he said, and spurned me from him. Yes, -that is the last link in memory’s chain. I must have fainted after that; -he must have thrust me out, and one of the poor negro women must have -picked me up and brought me to her quarters, and here I have recovered. -Oh, I wonder how long I have lain in this swoon?—not long. It was near -daylight when I lost recollection. It is not quite daylight yet. Oh, I -have not lain here long, perhaps not ten minutes. I wish someone would -come. I want to warn them not to speak of this. It must not be talked of -on the plantation. It must not get out among the neighbors. And never, -never must Elsie hear of it—guess at it! God! God! save Elsie from this -knowledge! Let her still respect her father. Let her still be happy in -thinking of me in my home—‘home’—my home. Alas! it is not my home any -longer! I do not own an interest there—not even a wife’s interest in the -homestead which I should have had, even had the estate come by General -Garnet, for I have signed even that away—‘all right, title, and -interest.’ Yet it is my home, if not my homestead, for it is my -husband’s place of permanent residence, and therefore my home. And I -must go back to it. I must beg him to let me in. I must, no matter how I -may be received. I must, even if his other daughter is there to insult -me. I must, to spare Elsie the knowledge of this. Elsie must never -know—must never suspect this.” And Alice arose, and, sitting up straight -in bed, prepared to throw the cover off and arise, when Elsie sprang -forward and threw herself upon the bed, exclaiming, in heart-broken -tones: - -“Elsie does know it, darling mother. Elsie knows it all. God nor angels -would suffer her to be kept in ignorance of it—of all the sufferings—of -all the sacrifice that has made it her duty never to leave you nor -forsake you again. And may Heaven forsake me, mother, the hour that ever -I leave you again!” - -“Oh, Elsie! good, but rash child, have you ventured to come back here? -Oh, Elsie!” And Alice threw her arms around the neck of her daughter, -and clasped her to her bosom, and both wept copiously. - -At last—“Tell me what has happened, dearest child. I have no -recollection of anything since my swoon,” said Alice, in a faint voice, -slipping from the embrace of Elsie. - -“Mother, darling mother, won’t you please to rest now, without asking -any questions? You must be so weak,” replied Elsie, laying her gently -down, and arranging the cover over her. - -“I feel weak, yet well, light, renewed; but I won’t ask questions that -will pain you to answer, dear child. I am almost certain of what has -occurred. I swooned, and was picked up by one of the women and brought -to this quarter, and she sent for you. Dear Elsie, I am afraid she -alarmed you. Did Magnus come, too?” - -“Yes, dearest Mrs. Garnet, I am here,” said Dr. Hardcastle, advancing to -the bedside with a cordial in his hand. - -Elsie raised her mother once more, and taking the restorative draught, -placed it to her lips. Alice drank it, and then said: - -“Magnus, Elsie, I am afraid they have told you a dreadful tale of what -occurred to me after you left the house. Dearest, you must not believe -all that you may have heard, and you must excuse the rest. You know -negroes, especially negro women, will exaggerate. They do not -intentionally transcend the truth, but their quick fancies and warm -sympathies lead them into extravagance. General Garnet, in the temporary -insanity of rage, has done something violent, no doubt; but not so -violent as has appeared to you, and no doubt he regrets his anger now. -Elsie, do not think too hardly of your father. Give him time. All will -come right at last. In the meanwhile, darling, I must return to the -house. I must not seem inclined to make the most of his anger by -absenting myself. Dearest Elsie, this morning we must part again. We -will take breakfast together in this humble quarter, and then we must -part, dear child, until better times. You must go with your husband, -Elsie, and I must return to mine,” said Alice, lifting up her arms and -embracing her child. - -Elsie looked at Magnus in despair. He stooped, and said: - -“Dear Mrs. Garnet, you must sleep now. I am your physician as well as -your son. You must be silent, close your eyes, and lie still.” - -“I cannot, Magnus. I do not feel the least inclined to sleep. I feel as -though I had had a very long sleep. I feel quite fresh and renewed, -though a little weak, as from want of nourishment. Besides, day is -breaking. It is time to rise. This is the day you were to depart for the -backwoods, and you intended to have made an early start. I cannot hinder -you. I must rise. We must have one more social meal together, and then -depart to our several duties.” Alice spoke in a low, calm tone, but -covered her face to conceal the quivering features. - -Magnus seized the chance to draw Elsie aside, to whisper hurriedly in -her ear: - -“Elsie, she must know all about it. She is strong enough to bear the -knowledge, and so it is perfectly safe to break it to her gently. In -fact, to tell her the truth is the only safe plan. Her providential -recovery from apparent death must not be made known to anyone for the -present, or until General Garnet’s secret disposition is ascertained and -can be safely trusted. She has nothing to hope from him; she shall have -nothing to fear. She must be perfectly secure from his persecutions and -annoyances, until he is in a better frame of mind. This I think the -safety of her life and of her reason demands. I consider that she is -providentially dead to General Garnet and living to us. She must -accompany us to the West. We must be en route within an hour, lest the -old sexton returns and discovers all. Listen, I will go back to the -church and restore everything there to such complete order that no -suspicion shall be excited. And while I am gone, do you assist her to -arise, if she wishes it. When she gets up and looks about her, she will -see where she is, and that will greatly prepare her for my explanation. -If she asks you any questions refer her to me alone for explanation. -There, love, is the bundle of clothing you put up in your haste when -about to leave Deep Dell. I brought it from the carriage just now, while -you were talking with your mother. Get your double wrapper out, and slip -it on her before the window-shutter is opened. I would not have her see -that garb suddenly.” And having given these hasty directions Magnus -hurried out to the chapel, and having restored everything there to -primal order, returned to the cottage. He found Alice sitting up by the -fire with her hands clasped, and her head bowed with a look of deep -thoughtfulness. Elsie had hung the tea-kettle on to make coffee, and had -set the table, and was now handing out the contents of the old man’s -cupboard. - -As Dr. Hardcastle entered, Alice, without raising her head, held out her -hand to him, saying: - -“Magnus, come here. Where am I?” - -And Dr. Hardcastle went and drew a chair to her side, and took her hand, -and slowly, and gently, and cautiously made known to her the events of -the last two days. Alice made no comment. - -The awful solemnity of the facts disclosed—the apparent death, the -burial, veiled, softened as they were in the telling—overwhelmed her -soul. She dropped her head upon her open hands, and neither moved nor -spoke for a long time, or until Elsie came to her side, passed one arm -earnestly over her shoulder, placed a cup of coffee at her lips with the -other hand, bending her bright, loving face smilingly upon her the -while. Then Alice lifted up her head, took the cup, and kissed the -gentle hand that gave it. - -While Alice drank the coffee Dr. Hardcastle went out and attended to his -mules. When he returned they all gathered around the breakfast table. It -was during that meal that he proposed to Alice the plan of accompanying -them, urging upon her the strong necessity of her doing so. - -Alice combated all his arguments as well as her instincts taught her. - -Dr. Hardcastle avowed his intention of accompanying her back to Mount -Calm, and, remaining in the neighborhood, in case of her perseverance in -her present intention of returning. Alice sought to dissuade him from -that plan. - -Finally, after much talk, Alice agreed to accompany them on the first -stage of their journey as far as Deep Dell, and remain there incognito, -while he should return to Mount Calm, and ascertain the disposition of -General Garnet, and, if possible and prudent, break gradually to him the -fact of his wife’s unexpected restoration to life. - -Having agreed upon this plan Dr. Hardcastle made rapid preparations for -the recommencement of their journey. They—he and Elsie—restored -everything about the cottage to complete order; put out the fire, -fastened up the cupboard, and the windows, and then the doors, and, -tying a little purse of money to the door-key, by way of compensation -for all they had used, hid it “under the stone by the doorstep,” as -requested, entered the carriage, and commenced their journey. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIX. - THE CHILDREN OF THE ISLE. - - Their earliest steps have wandered from the green and fertile land, - Down where the clear blue ocean rolled, to pace the rugged strand, - They proudly flung the proffered bribe and gilded toy away, - To gather up the salt sea-weed, or dabble in the spray; - They shouted to the distant crew, or launched their mimic bark. - They met the morning freshness there, and lingered till the dark; - And still their souls are as they were, and as they e’er will be, - Loving and wild as what they love, the curbless, mighty sea. - _—Eliza Cook._ - - -The little sea-girt homeland of Hutton’s Isle had never recovered from -the fatal devastation of the great tempest and flood. The fences had -never been reconstructed strong and complete as before. The house had -never been properly repaired. All the little mending and rebuilding that -had been done had been the joint work of Miss Joe and her factotum, -Pontius Pilate. And these slight repairs were of such a temporary -character as to require renewal every few months. And every year the -house sank and fell, and grew more ruinous and dilapidated. And every -year the isle became more desolate and desert. Every season the soil was -less productive and the crop poorer. The oyster banks had failed -entirely. The fisheries were becoming precarious. Nothing remained in -primeval abundance except in the flocks of water-fowl that still flew in -vast clouds over the isle, darkening the very air at certain times, like -night or storm. - -So much for the house and isle. Now for the inmates and inhabitants. - -From having been always poor they were now upon the verge of -penury—destitution. Miss Josephine Cotter, the good fairy of this -sea-girt isle, was, to use her own expression, growing older and older -every day of her life. She did not know, she said, which was most likely -to topple down first, she or her old house. - -The death of Pontius Pilate in the beginning of the winter, and a severe -attack of rheumatism in her limbs, had seemed to be the climax of the -poor old lady’s misfortunes. It was immediately after the burial of -Pontius Pilate that Miss Joe was sitting down in the depth of despair, -with her apron thrown over her head, and her head bowed upon her knees, -Hugh and Garnet suddenly stood before her. - -“Don’t cry any more, granny. I and Nettie can work the farm,” said Hugh, -in a cheerful, confident tone. - -“You and Nettie work the farm!” replied Miss Joe, looking up with pity, -anger, and contempt in the expression of her countenance and in the tone -of her voice. To her, a woman past sixty, the boy of twelve and the girl -of nine seemed yet infants. “You and Nettie work the farm!” - -“Yes, granny, and haul the wood, and fish, and shoot——” - -“Pah, pah! Hush talking, you make my head ache.” - -“Granny, I have sometimes taken the plow from Pont and plowed a row for -fun. I know a little practice would make me perfect at that.” - -“Granny, Hugh can hoe up the hills, and I can drop corn. Hugh can cut -wood, and I can fetch and carry it. And now, as there is no fish near -the isle, Hugh can go out in the boat, and I can go with him to bait his -hooks and look after the basket.” - -And do you guess all the hard and manifold work they did? - -It was the dead of winter—the earth was frozen hard, and two feet deep -with snow, crusted with ice. All the wood that was burned on the isle -had to be cut and hauled from the forest behind Huttontown, and brought -over to the isle in a boat. And the boy, with no implements but a -hatchet, a small wheelbarrow, and a little rowboat, performed all that -labor alone, until one day, when he had made very slow progress, and -effected very little, he returned home, near frozen, from having been so -long at work in the snow and among the ice-clad trees. - -Then Nettie threw herself into a violent paroxysm of excitement, and -vowed that she would go with him the next day to help him gather wood in -the forest. And she went. And while Hugh cut the brush and the lighter -branches of the dead trees Nettie would break them up and pile them in -the wheelbarrow, enlivening the earnest, thoughtful boy all the time -with her wild and joyous talk. - -It was late in the afternoon of a stormy day near the end of December, -that the two children, Hugh Hutton and Garnet Seabright, might have been -seen wandering on the cold, bare, snow-clad northwest beach of Hutton’s -Isle. - -Hugh was at this time a fine, handsome, athletic boy of twelve and a -half years of age; tall, broad-shouldered, deep-chested, strong limbed, -with the high Roman features, dark complexion, and commanding -countenance of all his race; a noble boy, undisguised even by the old, -worn, faded, and patched suit of homespun cloth in which he was clad. -Bitterly cold as it was, his head and feet were bare—bare, because -though Miss Joe might shear the sheep, and card and spin the wool, and -knit him socks enough, yet shoes and hats cost a great deal more money -than Miss Joe or Hugh could often get together, and so shoes and hats -were luxuries and elegancies, only to be indulged in on Sundays and high -holidays. - -Garnet Seabright was now about ten years of age; a beautiful, brilliant, -sun-burned, or rather sun-gilded brunette, whom the sea air and sun rays -had made as hard, bright, dark, and resplendent as the burning, crimson, -sea-coast gem whose name she bore. Child of Apollo and Amphytrite she -was. Her eyes were large, dark, and burning bright; her rich and glossy -hair seemed jet black in the shade, but emitted gleams of red light -wherever the sun shone upon it; her complexion was rich and glowing; she -wore a dress of scarlet country cloth, with coarse shoes and stockings, -and a coarse straw hat—and, altogether, her bright presence warmed and -illumined the cold, bleak desolation of the sea-coast, like some -cheerful fire. She followed close behind Hugh, stopping whenever he -stopped, and digging with a little stick wherever the little round holes -in the sand indicated the presence of the maninosies, left by the -subsiding wind and ebbing tide upon the beach. Very necessary was it -that they should fill their basket, for very little else had they at -home for supper. - -Their task was finished just as the clear, red winter’s sun sank to a -level with the horizon, lighting up all the bay like a sea of fire. - -The boy and girl started for home with their baskets well laden with -maninosies, and were gayly laughing around the fire, when Miss Joe held -up her hand, exclaiming: - -“Hush, I thought I heard a man’s step.” - -“A man’s step!” echoed Hugh, with a look of surprise. - -“A man’s step!” re-echoed Nettie, her eyes wide open with astonishment. - -“Yes! A man’s heavy step crunching through the snow. There, listen! -there it is again. It seems to be coming up the hill toward the -house—listen!” - -They all listened. - -Crunch, crunch, crunch came the heavy, regular, monotonous tramp. - -And it is impossible to convey the effect of that regular, heavy sound -breaking upon the profound stillness and solitude of night on that -sea-girt isle. - -“In the name of Heaven, who can it be?” exclaimed Miss Joe, as nearly -frightened as ever she was in her life. - -Crunch, crunch, crunch came the step, nearing the door. - -“I am going to see,” exclaimed Hugh, seizing up a pine knot, lighting it -at the fire, and making for the door. - -Miss Joe could scarcely repress a scream. - -Nettie stood like a young panther at bay; clinging to Miss Joe in -terror, yet looking toward the door with her eyes ablaze with defiance. - -Just as a loud rap started them afresh Hugh swung the door open, and a -tall, majestic-looking man, wrapped in a large cloak, strode into the -room. - - - - - CHAPTER XXX. - THE NIGHT VISIT. - - And scenes long past of joy and pain, - Come weldering through her childish brain. - _—Scott._ - - -“That’s godfather! As sure as a gun that’s godfather!” exclaimed Nettie; -making one bound from the place where she stood to a chair, and -springing thence to the bosom of the newcomer, where she clung -desperately, pressing her arms around his neck; holding his head between -her hands, while she kissed his eyes and cheeks and lips; then rubbing -and rooting her head into his bosom, and screaming with delight. - -“And is it possible you recollect me, little Nettie?” asked General -Garnet (for it was he), in a tone of voice almost sad. - -“Recollect you, godfather; sure I do! Though you have been away so long; -I haven’t seen you since I was a wood-sprite, and that was a long time -ago, and now I am a water-nymph,” exclaimed Nettie, rubbing her head -into him, and clinging around him, laughing with joy. - -“Wild as ever, Nettie?” - -“Wild, yes! You know when I was a wood-sprite I could climb trees like a -squirrel; well, now, I am a sea-nymph—I can swim like a duck and dive -like a fish—ask granny if I can’t! cried Nettie, reiterating all her -exclamations of affection and delight, and repeating all her impetuous -caresses. - -“It seems to me that you love me a little, Nettie?” said he, in the same -sad tone. - -“Love you a little, godfather! Oh! just open your cloak and take me -inside next to you. Oh! just unbutton your coat, and button me up inside -of that, too. I love you well enough to let you swallow me, godfather,” -exclaimed the imp, nestling close to him with her arms about his neck, -her head tucked into his bosom, and wriggling with delight. - -“Yes, you do love me—disinterestedly—poor, forsaken child! And you are -the only thing on earth that does love me,” said he, folding both arms -closely about her. - -All this took place in a very few minutes, while Miss Joe was rising in -her corner, setting aside her wheel, smoothing down her apron, and -coming forward to meet her visitor, saying: - -“Nettie, jump down this moment, and don’t trouble the ‘gentleman.’” But -Nettie clung tighter, and General Garnet held her closer. “General -Garnet, sir, it is an unexpected honor to see you here. Pray, come to -the fire and sit down. Hugh, shut that door, and set a chair for the -general, and throw more brush on the fire. General, do sit down, and -don’t let that wild child bother you so. Come down, Nettie, I say.” - -“I sha’n’t, granny!” - -“Never mind, Miss Joe, I like to have her here,” said General Garnet, -throwing off his cloak, seating himself in a large armchair at the fire, -and seating Nettie on his knee. “Well, my old friend, how does fate use -you nowadays?” he finally asked of the old lady. - -“Oh, sir, very well, indeed; fust-rate, I thank you,” answered proud -Miss Joe. - -“I am very glad to hear it,” commented her visitor, with one arm still -clasping Nettie, while he glanced sarcastically around the room. - -Miss Joe did not perceive the irony, but she saw his suit of deep -mourning, and suddenly recollected that she might be expected to say -something appropriate to the occasion. So, composing her countenance to -funereal solemnity, she looked at General Garnet, and said, very -seriously, the following commonplace: - -“We have heard of your heavy bereavement in the sudden death of your -wife, General Garnet, and we are very much grieved. But you know, sir, -death is the common lot of all. It is the only condition we can—can have -life on. It’s just as nat’ral as being born. And so, sir, I hope you’ll -be able to bear up under your fate like a philosopher. Besides which, it -is the will of God. And being just so, I trust you will have grace to -resign yourself to your trials like a Christian.” - -“I trust so, I trust so,” replied General Garnet, speaking quickly; then -he added: “It augments my sorrow very much, however, to remember that it -was the misconduct of the daughter that precipitated the fate of the -mother.” - -“Good Heaven! you don’t say so, sir!” - -“Yes! you may as well know the truth, my good old friend. Elsie threw -herself entirely away; eloped and went off to the West with that -worthless beggar, Hardcastle,” said he, looking around to see the effect -of his words. - -Hugh’s head sprang up with an expression of indignant astonishment, -denial, and defiance on his fine countenance. - -Nettie gazed at him—appalled. - -Miss Joe stared, with mouth and eyes all open with wonder, exclaiming: - -“Good gracious, sir, you don’t tell me so. I heard something—but I -didn’t—I never—well, dear me—Lord a-mercy. Was it really that away, -arter all?” - -“Yes: and now my good friend, my excellent friend, let us change the -subject; it is too painful; much too painful; even you can judge a -father’s and a husband’s feelings must be upon such an occasion. Let us -leave the agonizing topic, and never revert to it again. Let us turn to -a more agreeable subject. My dear little goddaughter, here,” said he, -bending over the child on his knee with his soft, bright smile—a smile -as charming as full, beautifully curved lips, pearly teeth, and a dark -mustache, and the spirit of Belial could make it; “my dear little -godchild here—she is a very fine little girl, and will one day, no -doubt, make a very accomplished woman. You have taken good care of her; -it is easy to see that. What rosy cheeks she has!” - -“I have taken as good care of her as I could, sir—which being an old -woman—too old to follow after children—wan’t much.” - -“I am under great obligations to you, Miss Joe, and must find some way -in which to repay you for the years of trouble and expense you have been -put to upon account of my little ward.” - -“Not at all, sir; you owe me nothing,” said the proud old lady. “I have -always been a-t’iling, striving, saving soul; but I never saved -anything, as I thought anyone near me, ’specially a little child, was a -sufferin’ for. No, General Garnet, ef I am to be paid at this hour of -the day I had rather the Lord pay me. I don’t want you to take it out’n -his hands.” - -General Garnet, turning to little Nettie, again took her hand, looked at -the beautifully-molded but sun-browned thing, and said, softly and -smilingly: - -“You have a very pretty-shaped hand, my dear little girl. You ought to -take care of it. You ought to wear gloves.” - -“Haint got any, godfather.” - -“But you should get them or have them got for you. Why don’t you?” - -“Couldn’t dig for maninosies or break brush with gloves on, godfather.” - -“Why, you don’t do these shocking things?” - -“Yes, indeedy! and I’m going coon hunting with Hugh next moonshiny night -that comes.” - -“Next moonlight night that comes you will be in a very different looking -place from this,” said he, pushing the lurid black ringlets back gently -behind her ears, and noticing for the first time that sure index of -“gentle blood” in human kind or horses—the small and elegantly formed -ear. - -“Where shall I be, godfather?” - -“Never mind where! They have not bored your ears, Nettie!” - -“No; I haven’t had my ears bored, but I saw a picture of an Indian with -his nose bored.” - -“Pooh—yet, after all, one is about as barbarous as the other, little -Nettie. Nettie, my little girl, would you like to go home and live with -me?” - -“Go home and live ’long o’ you! Um-m-m-me—no! I had rather you’d come -and live ’long o’ me.” - -“Why?” - -“’Cause I don’t want to leave granny; she wouldn’t have anybody to hug -her up and keep her back warm at night.” - -“But if we were to take granny with us, too?” - -“Um-m—me. Could you take Hugh along, too?” asked the child, with the -astute air of one making a shrewd bargain. - -“No,” very decidedly answered General Garnet; adding, in a lower tone, -“No more childish friendships ripening into mature love.” - -“Very well, then, godfather, if you love me, you’ll have to come and -live ’long of us; for I can’t go home ’long o’ you.” - -“Why not, pray?” - -“’Cause, godfather, how could Hugh live here by himself?” - -“Well, little ‘Martha,’ anxious and troubled about many things, Hugh -need not live here by himself. Suppose I was to get a situation for -Hugh?” - -“A what?” - -“Suppose I were to put Hugh in the way of getting an honest living?” - -“La, godfather, no white men about here except niggers ever get an -honest living, and I can’t let you black Hugh’s face and crisp his -hair—that’s black enough already—and make a nigger of him!” - -“You silly child, you will let me make a lawyer, or a doctor, or a -parson of him, won’t you?” - -Before Nettie could answer Hugh Hutton came up, cap in hand, and stood -facing General Garnet. - -“Well, my boy?” said the latter. - -“General Garnet, if you have any notion of taking Nettie away from here, -just look out for her and the old lady, who has had the care of her so -long, and never mind me. I can take care of myself. Nettie, darlin’, -never stop for me; I know what to do with myself. And now, general, as -long as I am talking to you, I must tell you I don’t believe one word -about Dr. Hardcastle’s being a worthless man, because I know he is a -good and great man; nor do I believe one word of Miss Elsie’s breaking -her mother’s heart, because—because I know she is as good as she is -beautiful. You needn’t be angry. I should have hated myself if I hadn’t -spoke out!” exclaimed the boy, his frank, brave spirit flashing boldly -from his eyes. - -But the words had scarcely left the lips of Hugh before Nettie had -jumped to her feet, and administered a sound box on the ear to him, -exclaiming: - -“Now! take that! Now, you make godfather out to be a story-teller -again!” And having given her sharp little lesson, Nettie sprung back to -her seat, and threw her arms again around his neck. General Garnet, -without seeming to have seen her action, regarded the boy with a sort of -gentle, dignified surprise and leisurely scorn, merely saying: - -“Why, you impertinent young dog!” - -Nettie sprang down a second time. General Garnet gently attempted to -restrain her, but she dashed his hands away, exclaiming: - -“Let me alone, godfather. You are wicked and ugly, and I hate you. He’s -not an impudent young dog at all! he is my dear, gentle brother Hugh,” -she said, throwing herself about the neck of the boy, who folded his -arms around her. - -“You must please to excuse Nettie, sir; indeed she is the wildest, -queerest child that ever was born. But then, you know, she was wild and -queer before ever I took her in hand,” said Miss Joe, who was all this -time busy with a saucepan over the fire; and a pitcher, a bowl, and some -eggs, sugar, and spices on a chair by her side. - -“Nettie seems to have very little self-control or any other sort of -control,” dryly observed the general. - -“Now if you aint mad long o’ granny. Just as if it was her fault. And -she making you mulled cider, too, to keep the cold out of your stomach. -And taking the top-knot hen’s eggs, too, that she was saving to set, -because they’re a first-rate breed of hens, that lay eggs all the -winter, and she wants more of them. And she had but six eggs, and now -she’s taken three to make you mulled cider to keep the cold from -striking to your stomach; and you to get mad long o’ her, and cut her up -short for nothing. Never mind him, granny. I’ll speak right up for you, -and take your part,” said Nettie, with her arms still clasped around -Hugh’s neck, looking at her guardian, who was regarding her with a smile -of mingled amusement and condescending toleration. - -“Don’t you mind her, sir. Eggs aint no scarcity in this house; no, nor -anything else you could want. Would you like the leg of a cold turkey, -broiled, with a little currant jelly, sir? Or a few queen-cakes, with a -glass of good old sherry?” - -“Why, granny, I thought you hadn’t——” began Nettie, but Hugh put his -hand over her lip and whispered: - -“Don’t talk too much, Nettie. Go make friends with your guardian.” - -Nettie turned, saw once more the tolerant, indulgent smile that was -beaming upon her, and, with her usual way of assimilating only the good -and the beauty of a mixed thing, sprang at once to his arms, to his -neck, and caressing him vehemently, asked: - -“You are not mad with me, are you, godfather? I love you dearly! dearly! -’Deed I do, godfather!” And turning around his bushy face between her -little hands, she kissed him many times, repeating her question: “You -are not mad ’long o’ me, are you, godfather?” - -“No, darling little Nettie, I am not.” - -I have often thought that the spell of power that child held over that -man’s hard, stern, reserved nature was this: The blending of passionate -fondness with perfect freedom, frankness, and fearlessness in her -feelings and her manners toward him. - -General Garnet then turned, and, addressing himself seriously to the old -lady, informed her that he thought the time had come for him to -discharge the great obligation under which he lay to his worthy deceased -friend, the late gallant Corporal Seabright, and redeem the promise made -to his widow when dying by taking care of the rearing, education, and -future fortunes of their orphan girl. That it was now expedient that his -dear little goddaughter and ward should be brought into proper restraint -and training; that, in order that this should be fittingly accomplished, -it was necessary that his sweet little ward should become an inmate of -his house, and live under his immediate protection and supervision; -that, being most unhappily a widower, and having no lady at the head of -his establishment to look after his household, and do the honors, he -should be under the necessity of engaging the services of some highly -respectable matron as housekeeper; that he thought no more competent -person for the duties of the position could be found in the world than -Miss Josephine Cotter, and, under all the circumstances, no one could be -found to fill the situation with such perfect propriety; that if she -chose to exchange her lodge on the isle for the housekeeper’s rooms at -Mount Calm, she might name her own salary, and he would come up to it or -exceed it. - -Miss Joe’s eyes twinkled under her iron-bound spectacles, but she -hesitated to answer. - -General Garnet gave her full time to digest his proposition, while he -toyed with the child upon his knee—telling her of her new home and new -prospects, as far as he thought she could comprehend them; promising her -new dresses, books, playthings, a pony, etc. Finally, he raised his head -and turned to Miss Joe, saying: - -“Well, madam, have you reflected upon my proposition, and what do you -think of it?” - -Miss Joe hemmed, cleared her throat, blew her nose, wiped the tears from -her eyes, rubbed her specs and replaced them, and then said: - -She didn’t know. She was used to staying where she was. She had lived -there twenty odd years, and did not feel like leaving it at her time of -life. Besides, she must see what could be done for Hugh. She must take -time to consider. She couldn’t give an answer no way till next day. - -General Garnet acceded to the short delay, and, smiling to himself, -arose to take leave; tasted and praised Miss Joe’s mulled cider; kissed -and fondly embraced little Nettie; nodded to Hugh Hutton; shook hands -with Miss Joe, and withdrew. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXI. - NETTIE IN THE MANSION. - - She shall dwell in lordly houses, with gardens all about, - And servants to attend her when she goes in and out; - She’ll have music for the hearing, and pictures for the eye, - And exquisite and costly things each sense to gratify. - _—Howitt._ - - -Very early on the morning of the 2d of January, while yet the level rays -of the newly-risen sun were projecting golden lines of light aslant the -snow-covered earth, the traveling carriage of General Garnet passed -through Huttontown on its way to the beach to take in Miss Joe and -little Nettie, who were that day to leave their island home. - -At the same hour Miss Joe was bustling over her last preparations at the -isle. The simple furniture was to be safely stowed away and left in the -house; the most valuable portion of their personal effects was to be -transported to Mount Calm at more leisure; her own and Nettie’s clothing -was packed into a chest ready to be taken away. - -Hugh’s bundle was made up and slung at the end of a stick across his -shoulder. The boy certainly looked the most hopeful and happy of the -three. - -“Dear Hugh, you do just ’mind me of Jack in the fairy tale, going to -seek his fortune,” said Nettie, gazing at him with admiration. - -Nettie herself was wild with joy and expectation. Scarcely had she slept -or ate since the noted visit of her godfather. How could she? All the -fairy tales she had ever read in her life were about to be realized in -her own person; she was Cinderella, going in splendid style to the royal -palace, to be married to the king’s son; she was Beauty, who had just -discovered the Beast to be a handsome, powerful prince, who was going to -make a princess of her; or, if not literally so, her dreams were equally -fanciful and extravagant. But how different was the reality, poor -Nettie! more fairy-favored as wood-sprite in the forest wild, or -water-nymph in her sea-girt isle than ever as heiress of the millionaire -in the cold magnificence of Mount Calm. - -The last thing Miss Joe did was to put out the fire and dress Nettie in -a little cloak of scarlet country cloth, made with a hood to go over her -head. - -At which Nettie, with many extravagant capers, declared herself to be -Little Red Riding Hood in person. - -When all was done and the house locked up, the three took their way down -the solitary footpath through the snow to the water’s edge. - -Hugh had already cleaned out the boat, and they all got into it. Hugh -took the oar. The water was very smooth, the current in their favor, and -in twenty minutes the boy landed his charge safely upon the beach. - -The carriage of General Garnet was in waiting. - -Miss Joe and Nettie were handed in by Hugh, and then the boy put in his -hand to bid them a sorrowful good-by. - -Miss Joe burst into tears, sobbed aloud, told Hugh if he should not find -his place as shop-boy at Mr. Fig’s grocery pleasant to let her know and -she would go right back to Hutton’s Isle, and they two would work -together and see better times when the warm weather should come. - -Nettie, for her part, much as she loved Hugh, could not cry. She had -read too many fairy tales not to know how her own ought to end; and so -Nettie felt perfectly assured that by some dénouement at Mount Calm -every wish of her heart must be accomplished, most especially the -dearest wish of all, that of having her playmate always with her. So -they took leave. Hugh struck into a by-path, and walked off briskly -toward the store of Mr. Fig. And the carriage rolled on up through the -main street of the village and out over the country road that led over -the snow-covered hills and through the hollow to Mount Calm. - -Arrived at Mount Calm they were met by General Garnet, who, receiving -little Nettie in his arms, pressed her fondly and carried her into the -house, followed by Miss Joe. Here, in the hall, he delivered the little -girl to the charge of a neatly-dressed “ladylike” mulatto girl with a -gray Madras turban on her head and a pair of heavy gold hoops in her -ears, telling her to take Miss Seabright to the chamber lately occupied -by Miss Garnet, and to prepare her for the breakfast table. - -“And what’s your name?” asked Nettie, looking up with curiosity at the -gay mulatto. - -“Nettie, my darling, she is Hero, your maid,” said General Garnet. - -Hero took the hand of the child and was about to lead her up the great -staircase, when Nettie suddenly broke from her, and, exclaiming, -interrogatively: “This way?” sprang up the stairs like a squirrel. - -Hero tripped after her, overtook her on the landing, and gently took her -hand, saying: - -“Miss Seabright, young ladies oughtn’t to romp through a quiet house, -and race upstairs in that manner.” - -“I know young ladies oughtn’t to, but I am a little gal.” - -“You are a little lady, and should act like one. But here is your -chamber, Miss Seabright,” said Hero, opening the door of Elsie’s -beautiful room. - -“Oh, how—how grand!” exclaimed Nettie, breaking from her maid, springing -into the midst of the apartment, and standing gazing, speechless with -admiration upon the splendor—for such they were to her—of the furniture. - -The French paper on the walls, with its pretty pattern of wild rose -vines climbing up gilded pillars and forming into arches: the carpet on -the floor, chosen to match, with wild rose vines running over a white -ground; the pink damask and white muslin curtains of the windows, that -suffused the whole chamber with a soft, roseate light; the rosewood -dressing bureau standing between these two windows, with its tall mirror -and marble top, and elegant ornaments of porcelain, pearl and gold; the -rosewood bedstead, standing in the opposite recess, with its -white-embossed counterpane, and rich valance, all softly shaded by -hanging curtains of pink damask, like those of the windows; the -wardrobe, with its mirror doors, occupying the side to the left of the -chimney; the marble-top table, with its elegant trifles—a work-box of -mother-of-pearl and gold, a standish of ebony, inlaid with ivory, a -portfolio, books, etc.; the work-stand of satinwood; the luxurious sofa, -chair, and ottoman, covered with rose-colored cut velvet to suit the -draperies; the polished steel grate; with its silver mounting, and -marble mantelpiece, with its ormolu clock, vases, statuettes, -medallions, etc.; lastly, the paintings, few, but admirable, though -attractive to Nettie chiefly upon account of the massive and -richly-gilded frames. - -Introducing Nettie into that elegant, luxurious chamber was like letting -a monkey loose in a fancy-shop. For a moment she stood shading her eyes -with her hand, as she would have done in looking upon a dazzling winter -landscape, gazing transfixed with surprise; and then she ran hither and -thither, seized this and that, upset an inkstand, seized a porcelain -bottle by its stopper, letting the other part fall and break; knocked -down an elegant dressing-case, splitting off its pearl corners, and -spilling all its contents; jumping up into one of the beautiful chairs -and standing on it; snatched a statuette of Thalia from the mantelpiece, -and, calling it a doll-baby, declared she would make it a red petticoat -and give it the name of Dolly. - -All this was the work of a minute, for then Hero went and took her hand -again, and said: - -“Come, Miss Seabright, all these pretty things are yours, but you must -learn to handle them carefully, so as not to break and destroy them. -Come, now, I have to get you ready for breakfast. You are to eat -breakfast with the general. Come, let me wash your face and comb your -hair.” - -“No, indeed, you aint a-goin’ to wash my face and comb my hair. I’ve -washed my own face and combed my own hair ever since I can remember, and -I aint a-goin’ to let anybody else do it now.” - -“Well, then, you do it; and here is such a pretty blue dress of princess -cloth, all trimmed with black braid; and here is a black silk apron and -a nice lace tucker, and silk mits, and a tortoise-shell long comb to -keep your curls back, and here is a pair of black morocco boots, see!” - -“Oh, how beautiful!” exclaimed the child admiringly, as she hastened -with her ablutions. - -When Nettie was arrayed in her new dress she scarcely permitted her maid -to tie the last thing, or turn the last long ringlet behind the comb, -before she sprang from under her hands and fled downstairs to “show -godfather and granny how she looked dressed like a lady.” - -As Nettie sprang into the presence of her guardian he arose and walked -toward her, took her hand gently, and told her that little girls must -walk and not jump and skip through the rooms of a house. Then he led her -into the breakfast room, where Miss Joe was already installed at the -head of the table, attended by a “genteel” waiter. General Garnet seated -his ward and took his own place. Hero now made her appearance and stood -by her little mistress. But Nettie’s eyes were wandering from the -elegancies of the breakfast table, with its damask tablecloth, fine -napkins, Sevres china service, etc., to the superb sideboard, with its -splendid array of cut-glass and silver plate; and from the rich Turkey -carpet to the wonderful paper hangings of the walls that showed the city -of Paris by morning light. And Nettie’s maid had several times to remind -her that little ladies did not stare about, but ate their breakfast -prettily, before she could withdraw her attention from the new glories -around her and fix it upon her breakfast. - -But before the meal was half over Nettie had sprung up and bounded out -of the room in search of more novelties. The hall, the library and the -picture-gallery, the parlor and the drawing room, the saloon and the -conservatory—all on the first floor—were in turn invaded and overhauled -by the eager, impetuous child. Then all the chambers on the second floor -were visited and ransacked. And then the indefatigable little explorer -made for the attic, and besieged the doors of the locked-up rooms there. -Through all these runnings and ramblings Hero followed her, telling her -that little ladies should not do this, or that, or the other. - -When night came, a little tired with her incessant running, and a little -fretted and dispirited with the ceaseless accompaniment of her maid’s -tuitions and fault-finding, Nettie went into the library, where her -guardian sat luxuriating in his easy-chair at a table covered with books -and papers before a fine fire. - -Nettie was too tired to notice the elegant and luxurious appointments of -General Garnet’s favorite retreat; the superb book-cases at intervals -along the walls; the rare and costly statues, busts, and oil-paintings; -the tables laden with prints and articles of virtu; the easy-chairs, -sofas, and foot-cushions; the deep, soft carpet, “stealing all noises -from the feet”; the heavy damask curtains, excluding all cold air, and -the splendid chandeliers pendant from the ceiling and diffusing through -their stained glass shades a rich, warm, and glowing light throughout -the apartment. Nettie sauntered straight up to General Garnet, climbed -upon his knees, and threw her head and arms languidly upon his bosom. - -“Tired, my little Nettie?” - -“Oh, very tired, godfather, indeed. Take me in your arms and rock me -back and forward, as Hugh does.” - -“You must forget Hugh and the isle, and the lodge, and all your -infantile life, little Nettie. You are going to be a young lady, and -some day you may feel mortified if anyone reminded you of these things.” - -“But I think it would be wicked to forget them, godfather, and indeed I -won’t forget them, either,” said Nettie, lifting herself from her -resting-place. - -General Garnet saw his error. If he wished Nettie to forget her past -life, companions, and occupations, he must never remind her of them. If -she spoke of them, he must not keep her mind fixed upon the subject even -by opposing it. He must draw her attention to something else. Reaching -out his hand, drawing a book of colored prints up before him, and -opening it, he said: - -“You have a great deal of curiosity, little Nettie. Here are views taken -on the Mediterranean; pictures of strange places and old cities, which I -will tell you about. But as I do not wish to talk to a listless hearer, -you must first tell me when you see a picture that interests you, and -question me about anything that excites your curiosity, and then I shall -know that I am speaking to an attentive pupil.” - -Nettie kissed her guardian rapturously, and, still sitting on his knees, -bent forward and eagerly turned over the leaves of the folio, until a -view on the coast of Greece arrested her attention, and, pausing upon -it, she caressed her guardian and claimed the explanation. General -Garnet was absorbed in the description and history of this plate, and -Nettie was listening eagerly, when the front door-bell was heard to -ring. General Garnet ceased talking, and raised his head and listened. -Nettie pressed her lips to his and listened, too. The library door -opened; a servant entered, and announced: - -“Dr. Hardcastle!” - -“Show Dr. Hardcastle in,” said General Garnet, gathering Nettie closely -to his bosom with one arm, resting the other hand upon the table, and -elevating his head and Roman nose to the loftiest angle of scorn. A -minute passed, and then the door opened again, and Magnus Hardcastle, -still clothed in his rough emigrant suit, entered the library, walked -down its length, and stood face to face with General Garnet. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXII. - THE INTERVIEW. - - Here I disclaim all my paternal care, - Propinquity and property of blood, - And as a stranger to my hearth and me - Hold her from this forever! - _—Shakspere._ - - -Thus they stood: - -General Garnet had arisen and put Nettie from his bosom, but she stood -upon the chair he had just vacated, with her arms around his neck, -gazing at the newcomer. - -Dr. Hardcastle stood, cap in hand, immediately before him. - -They looked at each other. The countenance of General Garnet was calm -and impassable; he could afford to be calm; he had his revenge in his -hand—in his arms! The countenance of Magnus was frank, open, eager as -ever, yet tempered with a certain gravity and earnestness of expression. - -But a single instant they thus regarded each other, and then: - -“Well, sir?” said General Garnet. - -Magnus held forth his hand, saying seriously: - -“General Garnet, I have come a day’s journey back from my Western road -to offer you my hand in amity, to say to you how kindly I feel, and must -ever feel, toward the father of my beloved wife—to say how much I desire -your friendship—how much we all desire a reconciliation. Will you take -my hand?” General Garnet drew himself up and remained silent. Nettie, -with her arms still around his neck, gazed with interest at their -visitor. Magnus dropped his hand, but continued: “Sir, I can understand -the resentment of disappointed ambition. But I do not, and will not, -believe such anger to be implacable; not now—not under the afflicting -dispensation of your recent deplorable bereavement. General Garnet, I -had proceeded a day and night upon my westward journey before I received -a letter from Mr. Wilson announcing the sudden death of Mrs. Garnet. My -dear wife was overwhelmed with sorrow, a sorrow which I also deeply -felt. She reproached herself bitterly with a thousand fancied sins -against her lost mother, vowing in her remorse and despair what she -would give, or do, could the grave but give up its dead. ‘The grave is -inexorable!’ General Garnet, to some extent I have judged your heart by -hers. The husband and the daughter have a common sorrow. The husband -must have suffered as much as the daughter. General Garnet, can I -venture to speak candidly to you? Can I venture to say that, little as -your Alice may have been loved or valued while she was still by your -side, in your daily path, yet now that she has vanished from your sight -you miss her in a thousand endearing attentions—in a thousand gentle -ministrations every moment of your life. You miss her in countless -comforts, and nameless refinements of comfort, of which she, till lost, -was the quiet, unsuspecting origin. And now you find out the cause by -missing the effect!” - -“‘How blessings brighten as they take their flight!’” said General -Garnet, in a low, ironical tone, filling up the pause made by Magnus. -But, without observing the sneer, Dr. Hardcastle replied, gravely and -sweetly: - -“Yes! ‘We know not that an angel had been with us till we saw the glory -of her vanishing wing!’ In your deep heart, was it not thus with you, -General Garnet? Is it not so in a modified way with many of us? Oh, the -loved and lost! we may have misapprehended, undervalued, misused them in -life; but let the inexorable hand of Death be laid upon them, and how -changed are all our feelings toward them! How remorsefully we appreciate -their worth; how despairingly we love them. What would we not sacrifice -to restore motion, warmth, consciousness to that still, cold heart, so -we might press it beating to our bosom; to restore light to those folded -eyes, so we might gaze into them all the remorse, all the love we feel, -but cannot speak; to restore life to the dead, that we might see them -again at our fireside or table is the old, familiar dress, with the old, -familiar look; that we might be a saint or a slave to them thenceforth -for ever! Take a closer case; take that of your Alice. Could now the -doors of that vault where you laid her fly open and yield up its -beautiful dead—or, to leave the supernatural and impossible out of the -question, could Alice be found to have been laid there during a fit of -epilepsy, as has sometimes been the case with others, and could she now -be restored to you living, loving, would you not rejoice as you never -rejoiced before—would you not love and value her as you never loved or -valued her before—would you not do anything on earth to render her -renewed life happy?” Magnus paused again to see the effect of this hint -of the truth, thinking, also, that in the event of General Garnet -remaining obdurate, he had possibly verged too nearly upon a disclosure. - -But the stern, immovable countenance of the latter betrayed no emotion, -either of suspicion or of relenting. It positively gave no clew to his -thoughts or feelings. Magnus hoped the best, yet withdrew from the -precipice of a dangerous confidence by saying: - -“But to leave improbable things also. Could you wake up in the morning -and find that you had only dreamed her death, and see her by your -side—living, beautiful, loving—would you not clasp her to your heart in -joy, exclaiming: ‘Oh, dearest wife, I have had such a dreadful dream! It -seemed, too, so very real. I dreamed that you were dead, Alice. Thank -God, it was nothing but a dream! Now, ask me what you will, Alice, for I -am so happy to know I have you yet—to know that you have not gone from -my side, but are here—here!—that I can refuse you nothing.’ Would those -not be your words and feelings? And what would Alice say—what would -Alice ask? What was nearest her heart when she fell asleep? What would -she say could she now be restored, and should you ask her what would -make her happy, but ‘Father, be reconciled to your daughter!’ General -Garnet, the same letter that announced our sudden and mutual -bereavement, the letter of that Christian minister, expressed a hope -that the hand of Death, which had led our friend away from our midst, -leaving us all in a common sorrow, might reunite our hands in amity. -General Garnet, that hope is my prayer. I entreat you, take my hand!” - -General Garnet recoiled a step, and answered scornfully: - -“Sir, I know you for an orator of old. But if you hope to work upon my -feelings through the sorrow of my recent and very sudden loss, you -deceive yourself. And now, hear me! Could—as you have put the -question—could the doors of my wife’s tomb fly open—and could she be -restored to me, living, loving, in all the beauty and goodness of her -being—could such impossibilities occur—and should the first boon she -craved to bless her renewed life be the reconciliation you desire, that -boon would be refused, though that refusal should send her back into the -grave! Now I hope you understand me thoroughly.” - -Dr. Hardcastle nodded his head several times, keeping time to his -thoughts, as he said, in his heart: - -“And little do you surmise, poor man, that your refusal will send her -back to the grave—for you! That she will be indeed dead—to you!” - -General Garnet, taking this nod for one of assent, added: - -“And now, I hope, sir, that no more false hopes may be raised upon me. -Neither you nor your wife need ever expect anything at my hands. By my -fireside, and at my board, and in my heart, the place of the late Miss -Garnet is filled. This little girl, sir, is my daughter and heiress. I -have regularly and legally adopted her. The late Miss Garnet had, but -for your reminder, passed from my memory. Mrs. Hardcastle is an alien -and a stranger, and I desire that she remain such. I beg you also to -remember, sir, that, though I have a slight electioneering acquaintance -with Dr. Hardcastle, such as every prominent politician may have with -persons not to be recognized under any other circumstances, I do not -wish even that acquaintance to continue. And I beg you to recollect that -I have never even seen Mrs. Hardcastle, and never wish to see her. I do -not know the person, and never wish to know her. Have you anything more -to advance, Dr. Hardcastle?” - -“Yes, sir!” said Magnus, drawing himself up, and as his fine chest -expanded, looking at his adversary with a brow, a glance that made him -quail and drop his eyes. “You have dared to misrepresent my purpose in -coming to you, or else you have naturally mistaken my motives—naturally, -for it may not be in your nature to understand them. Yet, no, it is not -so. You do not mistake me. And do not dare to affect it again. You know -that your fortune is nothing—absolutely nothing—to me, and never was. So -little do rank and fortune weigh with me against hearts and souls that, -had I been a millionaire and had Elsie been the child of a beggar -instead of a daughter of General Garnet, and the heiress of Mount Calm, -I would have taken her to my bosom in the face of all the world. And, -more—further, had Elsie possessed, in her own inalienable right, -hundreds of millions, and I possessed no more than the clothes I wore, I -would have married her, and not thanked her for the millions she brought -me, but simply loved her for the beauty, the goodness, the love, the -dear womanhood she gave me. So little do I value money where nature and -affection are concerned. As it is, we are both poor, both will have to -work hard. Elsie has chosen her lot in life, and shall abide by it. Even -you, her father, shall not rescue her from it with your wealth. You -cannot change her destiny. Your fortune could not do it. I am resolved -to make, to command whatever success may be in life for us. Yet”—he -added, with a softening brow and tone—“yet, father of my dear wife—for -her sake, for your own, for mine, I would be reconciled with you. Spite -of all the bitter things written upon your forehead, and spoken by your -lips, and which I do not think your heart indorses, I would be at peace -with you; bitter talk is but hasty breath. Let us forget it. Let us be -friends. Now, then, for the last time I offer you my hand. For the last -time, I beseech you take it.” - -General Garnet frowned darkly and averted his head. - -But Nettie, who had been gazing kindly and admiringly at the speaker, -now suddenly thrust out her little hand, and, emphatically striking it -into the broad, open palm of Magnus, exclaimed cordially: - -“Yes! Let us be friends! I’ll be friends! I like you!” - -There was no resisting that sparkling, cordial smile—that earnest, -confiding manner, and Magnus closed his hand upon the child’s hand, -pressing it kindly. - -“Godfather, why don’t you ask the good-looking gentleman to sit down, -and why don’t you ring the bell and have wine brought for him like you -did for Mr. Judge Jacky? Sit down, gentleman, in that armchair, and I -will go and ring the bell,” she said, jumping down and running to the -bell-rope, which she pulled vigorously. - -“Will you be seated, sir?” said General Garnet ironically. - -“Will you first take my hand, General Garnet?” - -“No, sir! To forbear is the utmost limit of my self-control. I cannot go -further, and forgive. Yet you are in my house—standing by my fireside. -While you bestow upon us your presence, I beg you be seated.” - -Magnus waved his hand in rejection of this invitation and turned to go, -but Nettie, returning from her vociferous bell-ringing, stopped him by -seizing both his hands and leaning up against him as she exclaimed: - -“No! you mustn’t go till you get something—I hear a boy coming now.” - -And at this moment, indeed, the door was opened, and a waiter appeared -in answer to the noisy summons. - -“Get some good wine and some sort o’ witches—you make with bread and -butter and ham—sandwitches, and bring up here for this gentleman. And -make haste, you hear, because he is in a hurry,” said Nettie to the -waiter. - -The man looked with surprise and perplexity from the self-constituted -little mistress to the master. And General Garnet, in some perversity of -mood, exclaimed fiercely: - -“Well, sir! Why do you pause? Did you hear Miss Seabright’s order?” - -“Yes, sir, but——” - -“Go and obey it, then. Do you wait for me to tell you that her commands -here are only second to my own?” - -“Yes, why don’t you go along when I tell you that the good-looking -gentleman is in a great hurry? What makes you look so queer?” exclaimed -Nettie, stamping with impatience, but not with ill-humor. - -The man bowed and withdrew. - -Again Dr. Hardcastle sought to free himself from his loving little -captor, but Nettie clung to him like a very nettle, or an opossum to a -tree, exclaiming: - -“No, sir, you mustn’t go; you shan’t go, till the wine comes.” - -And before he could get away the wine and sandwiches arrived. As the -waiter walked straight up the room and set the refreshments upon the -table, General Garnet turned coldly to Dr. Hardcastle, saying: - -“My little daughter invites you to take something. Will you do so, sir?” - -Dr. Hardcastle, who had been released by Nettie, declined the -invitation, and retired, followed into the hall by Nettie, who sought to -recapture and detain him. He raised the child, kissed her, and left the -house at once. - -After he had gone Nettie remained standing in the hall so long that -General Garnet came out to seek her. Having found her, he exclaimed: - -“Why do you linger so, my little Nettie? Come with me into the library, -and let us go on with the pictures and stories.” - -“I don’t want to go back to the library with you, godfather.” - -“What! Don’t want to return with me and see the beautiful pictures, and -hear the wonderful stories?” - -“No; I don’t care for the pictures, nor the stories, nor you, either, -godfather. I want to go to my own room—and I wish you would call my -maid.” - -“Whe-ew! How my little princess takes state upon herself! But I must say -it becomes her—rarely. But why does she not care for pictures, stories, -or godfather, either?” - -“Because, godfather, you treated the pleasant-spoken gentleman so -meanly. I’m sure when I and Hugh and granny lived in the poor lodge, and -had nothing to offer but persimmon beer and sour, knobby apples, we -never treated our visitors so meanly. No, that we didn’t! Granny used to -say, ‘Hospit—something or other—before everything’ which meant that it -was a shame to treat well-behaved company meanly. And you treated the -pleasant-spoken gentleman meanly. ’Deed, I thought he preached nice as -the parson. But you treated him meanly—and I don’t want to have anything -to do with you, and I won’t, either, have anything to do with you, -godfather. I want my maid. Will you please to send her to me?” - -Piqued, amused, attracted by the naïve candor and courage of the fond -but passionate child, General Garnet laughed and held out his arms, -saying: - -“Oh, come to me, my little Nettie. Come and kiss me, and give me one of -your tight hugs.” - -“’Deed, I won’t, godfather!” - -“Won’t! Why?” - -“’Cause I don’t feel like it, one bit.” - -“Don’t feel like it! Well, then, now what shall I give my little Nettie -for a good, hearty hug and kiss—say? Shall it be a pony, or a little -carriage, or a great wax doll, or what? Come! say now. What shall it -be?” - -“Nothing, godfather. You will give me all them things, anyhow, ’cause -you promised them to me if I’d come and live ’long o’ you. But I aint -sure that I will take any of them—and I aint even sure that I shall -stay.” - -General Garnet laughed aloud, and said: - -“Very well! if you won’t come and give me a good, hearty hug and kiss, -neither for free love nor bribery, I can come and give you one.” And he -went toward her. - -Nettie ran, flew up the stairs, and from the first landing looked down -to see if she was pursued, and said: - -“No, you mustn’t, indeed, godfather. I had rather anyone hit me a hard -lick right in the face than kiss me when I don’t want to be kissed. And -I don’t want to be kissed by you, godfather. I wouldn’t kiss you hardly -to save your life.” - -And having said this, Nettie fled the rest of the way upstairs. Hero was -already there with a light to take charge of her. - -“Strange! How strange it is that I love that wild child more and -more—need her love more and more every hour that I live! Strange, -passing strange, that with all her willfulness, I love that half-savage, -but most beautiful thing, better than I ever loved anyone in the wide -world! Oh, it is not strange, after all! It is because she loves me -thoroughly—with every fiber of her soul and body; because I can trust in -her, for she hides nothing from me—not even her childish anger.” - - * * * * * - -Dr. Hardcastle returned to Huttontown, and to the tavern, where he was -to lodge that night. He intended to retire early, preparatory to a very -early start the next morning. But first it was necessary to go to Mr. -Fig’s for the purpose of making a few purchases of articles that had -been forgotten in his first packing up. - -When he entered the grocery he saw, to his surprise, Hugh Hutton behind -the counter, ready to serve him. - -“Well, my boy,” said he, extending his hand, “I am surprised and happy -to see you again.” - -“Oh, doctor! have you really turned back? I am so very glad!” exclaimed -Hugh, his countenance actually illuminated with joy. - -“Yes, my boy. We had proceeded but a day’s journey, when we heard of -Mrs. Garnet’s death, and came back.” - -“Where is Mrs. Hardcastle? Is she at the inn?” - -“No, my boy; finding that we came too late for the funeral I took Mrs. -Hardcastle immediately back to Deep Dell, where she now sojourns, -waiting for me. I found it necessary to come back a second time. I have -traveled the road between Huttontown and Deep Dell forth and back twice -within a week, Hugh; and to-morrow morning, at five o’clock, I make the -third start.” - -“The old folks say that there is great luck in the third attempt,” said -Hugh. - -“I should think there was in my instance, if I could take you back with -me, my boy.” - -“Oh, sir, Dr. Hardcastle, you can if you will,” exclaimed Hugh, in a -tone of anxious, eager solicitude. - -“I assuredly will, if I can. And no obstacle exists with me. But your -little sister, my boy?” - -“Oh, sir, my little sister is better provided for than I could hope to -provide for her for many years to come. She is the ward of General -Garnet, and he has just this morning taken her home to live with him, -and to be educated.” - -“How? What? Is it possible? The little, fond, wild, beautiful creature I -saw at Mount Calm to-night?” - -“Yes, sir, that was she—Garnet Seabright.” - -“What kin is she to you, boy—not your sister?” - -“No kin at all, sir; but dear to me as if she were my twin sister.” - -“A beautiful child! A sweet, wild, haunting thing!” - -“Oh, yes, sir; and so true and good—so trusting!” - -“A little eerie, spirit-like thing! What a pity!” said Dr. Hardcastle, -communing with himself; then, raising his voice, he said: “Well, you -desire to accompany me, my boy? But how long have you been with Mr. Fig, -and what are your obligations to him?” - -“No obligations at all, sir. The truth is, seeing that from having been -a help to aunty and Nettie in the time of their need I had got to be a -hindrance in the way of their doing better than I could do for them, I -went to Mr. Fig and told him that I would stand behind the counter and -help about the store, for no more than my mere board—not even asking -clothing—on conditions, it should be understood, I was to go to the West -the very first chance that came. Well, Mr. Fig knew me, and how much I -could do, and agreed to my plan; and so I came this morning, and have -done a very hard day’s work, too—hauling several cartloads of freight -from the brig up to the store, and unloading them, and storing them in, -and waiting behind the counter the rest of the time. All that makes me -feel well to-night. So, you see, sir, I owe Mr. Fig nothing but good -friendship; and I am ready to set out with you to-morrow.” - -“Be it so, then, my boy. And I am rejoiced to know that in thus -following the bent of your inclinations, you abandon no duty. Will you -join me to-night, or early to-morrow morning?” - -“Early to-morrow morning, Dr. Hardcastle. You may pick me up at the -south gate of the falling-field, behind Mount Calm—that will be directly -in your road. I must go up to Mount Calm, to-night, to bid good-by to -Aunt Joe and Nettie.” - -“Very well, my boy. Be punctual.” - -And having obtained the articles for which he came Dr. Hardcastle left -the store. - -That night Hugh Hutton went up to Mount Calm. He succeeded in obtaining -entrance to his Aunt Joe’s rooms, but found, to his regret, that Nettie -had some time before retired to bed, and was now fast asleep. He spent -the night on a pallet in his aunt’s room, and in the morning made up his -bundle to start. Miss Joe objected, cried, bemoaned her fate and Hugh’s, -but finally consented to his departure; for Miss Joe believed in Hugh -and had faith in Dr. Hardcastle, besides it would not sound so badly to -tell the neighbors, by and by, that her nephew, Hugh Hutton, was -“studying medicine underneath Dr. Hardcastle.” So Miss Joe gave him her -blessing, and went to wake up Nettie, to bid him farewell, prophesying -all the while that Nettie would “take on dreadful.” But Nettie did not -“take on” at all; she threw herself joyously around Hugh’s neck, gave -him a hearty hug and kiss, and declared, that with his bundle across his -shoulder he was Jack the Giant-Killer, going to seek his fortune; and -that he must let her know about every giant he killed, and every -enchanted lady he freed, and every magician’s castle he took, and ever -beautiful princess that loved him. And then she pulled the scarlet -worsted comforter from her neck and wound it around Hugh’s throat, -tucking the ends into his coat breast, and bid him good-by. Hugh went to -the door, turned to take a last look, impulsively darted back, clasped -his old aunty, and then Nettie, in a last embrace, sprung from the room, -and was gone. A rapid walk brought him to the spot where he found Dr. -Hardcastle, just arrived in his carryall, waiting for him, and -exclaiming: - -“Just in time, my boy—and very welcome. Jump in! All right!” - - - - - CHAPTER XXXIII. - ELSIE IN THE LOG CABIN. - - It was a lodge of ample size, - But strange of structure and device, - Of such materials as around - The workman’s hand had readiest found. - _—Scott._ - - -The place selected by Magnus Hardcastle as the field of his life labor -was that grandly picturesque portion of Maryland now known as Alleghany -County, but then called indifferently the Mountains, the Wilderness, or -the Backwoods. The site chosen for his home was a wildly beautiful spot -in the midst of a deep, narrow valley lying between two ridges of the -Alleghany Mountains, and watered by a branch of the Potomac River. -Although Magnus Hardcastle’s first idea of a home in the backwoods -presented nothing but a log cabin, and although his young and lovely -bride was quite ready to dare and share the unmitigated rudeness and -privations of such a home and life, yet Providence, who “tempereth the -wind to the shorn lamb,” mercifully ameliorated the hardships of the -condition for the delicately nurtured girl, who, however willing, was, -notwithstanding all her health and strength, scarcely able to bear the -shock of such a sharp and sudden change. The contents of that casket—the -bridal gift of Alice Garnet to her daughter—amounted to nearly five -thousand dollars, and though the whole of this sum would go but a very -little way toward supplying the superfluities of a fashionable bride’s -trousseau, yet the half of it went very far toward completing and -furnishing a comfortable backwoods home for our young couple. Their -house was a log cabin indeed, but one of “ample size” and commodious -appointments. - -It was near the close of a fine winter day that Alice and Elsie were -together in the family rooms of the cabin. This apartment was large, and -supplied with all needful furniture. The walls were lathed and -plastered, but not whitewashed, and retaining the original stone color, -gave a sober tone to the air of the room. There was no carpet on the -floor, but the broad hearth was a notable specimen of the fine arts, by -Hugh Hutton, who declared, in his pride, that it was an interesting, -instructive, and endless study, to anyone fond of tracing the -individuality and infinite variety of natural form and color. The hearth -was, in fact, a fine mosaic of fragments of rocks, of divers forms, -sizes, and colors, perfectly filled in, leveled and chinked with a hard, -white composition, that formed an irregular boundary line between the -pieces. Each side the ample fireplace were dressers, constructed of -strong plank, and at once laden and ornamented with crockery ware. From -the lowest and broadest shelves hung dark calico curtains, reaching to -the floor, and concealing “the humble little household gods,” as Elsie -called them. There were chairs and tables, made more for strength than -beauty, ranged along the walls. The windows were curtained with dark -calico. There was no article of luxury, no superfluity in the room, but -everything was convenient, orderly, and immaculately clean. - -A fine fire blazed in the broad chimney, and though the hour was growing -dark, it illuminated the room, so as to render a lighted candle -unnecessary. The tea-kettle hung over the blaze, an oven lid sat upon -the logs by its side, and the oven was turned up against the front of -the fire to heat for baking. - -Elsie stood at a deal-table, making out biscuits—busy, healthful, and -happy as ever. - -A little to the left of the blazing, too-hot fire, sat Alice, in a -rocking-chair, and—a reverie. There was but one change in Alice since we -saw her last. The sunny ringlets of her unfaded hair (be it remembered -that she was but thirty-five), the sunny ringlets of her hair were -turned around her cheek, and their end twisted around with her back -braid. A little lace cap which she wore, because she said a cap was -proper for her at her time of life, and in her relations, sat gracefully -upon her still beautiful head, and gave a softness to the outline of her -delicate and spiritual face, making her seem even more youthful and -beautiful than before. She had been embroidering an infant’s dress, but -the work had dropped into her lap, and her hand had fallen upon the -little snow-white heap of muslin, and the richly-chased gold thimble -glittered idly in the firelight; but the tiny foot, in the delicate -slipper, was not idle—it turned upon the rockers of a cradle, where, -amid downy pillows and soft white drapery, reposed a lovely babe of -about two months of age. Altogether this beautiful and graceful group -was a little out of keeping with the log cabin, to which it nevertheless -lent a charm. But then, Elsie had always laughingly said that her mother -was an ingrain “lady,” while she herself, for her own part, was “only a -woman.” - -Elsie having finished making out her biscuits, brought the tray to the -fire to put them on to bake. While kneeling with one knee upon the -hearth to arrange her bread in the oven, she looked up at her mother’s -pensive face, and said, sympathetically: - -“Dear mother, it seems to me you are not happy, though you would have us -believe it is so?” - -“Elsie, no one is perfectly happy; that is a saying as old as the -plucking of the forbidden fruit that first brought suffering into the -world, and yet we never believe it. We are ever striving for that -perfect happiness which is impossible.” - -“I do not believe it to be impossible, dear mother. I am a firm believer -in perfect earthly happiness; I am so near it myself. Why, even now, I -should be perfectly happy but for the shadow on your brow, mother.” - -“‘But,’ there is ever a ‘but.’ It is the order of life, and I am content -with it. Be at ease, dear; I, too, should be perfectly happy, but——” - -“What, dearest mother?” - -“I am a living falsehood, Elsie.” - -“Mother!” - -“Child, I did not mean to speak so strongly. But I have a secret to keep -that pains me always—a sinful secret, inasmuch as I am conscious that -the keeping of it may cause sin in others.” - -“Sin, mother?” - -“Yes, Elsie; your father is in the prime of life; he believes himself a -widower. What if he were to marry again?” - -“Ha! I never thought of that. It seems so strange to me that people -should ever marry again.” - -“I know it does, my happy Elsie; but, nevertheless, they do, you know. -Elsie, I have refrained from speaking of my thought, because I did not -wish to distress you or have an argument with your husband; but, my -love, I feel that I ought to write to General Garnet, and after that, as -you and yours are doing so very well, and as you are all so comfortable -and happy, and as I should not be missed among you, I think, if General -Garnet wishes it, I ought to go home.” - -“He will not wish it, mother; you know he has a gentlemanly horror of a -nine days’ wonder. Sweet mother, you must remain with us. Not miss you! -Whom should we have to wait upon and adore if you were gone? And as for -writing, mother, talk to Magnus about that. Here he comes now, and Hugh -with him, as usual, and—a stranger with him, as unusual. Who can it be?” -said Elsie, as, setting the lid upon the oven and replacing the tray -upon the table, she looked out of the window into the moonlit yard. - -The door opened, and Magnus Hardcastle entered, accompanied by a -gentleman, and followed by Hugh Hutton. The stranger was clothed in a -suit of rusty black, his tall, slim figure was slightly bowed, and his -black hair was thickly mixed with gray. - -“Come in, sir; come in, sir. Hugh, my student, there, will care for your -horse. Come in, sir. It is needless to say that you are most gladly -welcome. A guest is a God-send to us. Come to the fire, sir,” said Dr. -Hardcastle, leading the way. - -“Mrs. Garnet, let me present to you the Rev. Mr. Sinclair, missionary to -the Winnebagoes, who will do us the honor of resting in our cabin for a -few days, on his western route. Mr. Sinclair, Mrs. Garnet of Mount -Calm.” - -“Is it possible! Alice!” ejaculated the stranger, dropping hat, gloves, -and whip, and reeling on his feet. - -A slight paleness overspread the face of the lady, but rising with -perfect ease, she offered her hand, saying: - -“Mr. Sinclair, it is many years since we last met. I am very glad to see -you.” - -He drew back, then took the hand she offered, and looked wonderingly, -searchingly, into her face, as if to read her soul. Her face was -impassible to him. Turning to Dr. Hardcastle, she said: - -“My dear Magnus, this is a very old acquaintance you have brought me, an -acquaintance of my girlhood. Elsie, my love!” - -Elsie came forward. - -“Mr. Sinclair,” she continued, still retaining his hand, “let me -introduce you to my daughter, Mrs. Hardcastle. Elsie, my love, Mr. -Sinclair is a very old friend of mine.” - -“I am very glad to see you, sir. I should be glad even if you were a -perfect stranger, but I am very glad to see an old friend of my -mother’s. Do take this chair between mother and the chimney corner, sir; -it is not the post of honor, perhaps, but it is the most comfortable and -convenient seat, as you can rest and toast your feet and talk over old -times with mother at the same time—old times, I said. She does not look -like she had seen any very old times, does she, sir?” said Elsie, gayly -talking on, while she shook the hand of the guest and installed him in -his seat. - -“Mamma,—‘Mrs. Garnet of Mount Calm,’—pray take the entertainment of Mr. -Sinclair upon yourself, while I attend to that for which I have the most -talent. I mean the creature comforts. Don’t tell him, mamma, that if -ever I lose my soul through either of the three great enemies of souls, -‘the world, the flesh, and the devil,’ it will be by the flesh, for that -I have very little of worldliness, not a whit of diabolism, but a grand -passion for creature comforts,” said Elsie, laughing, as she raised the -lid off the oven. “These biscuits are going to be very nice,” she -remarked, as the steam of the fresh warm bread greeted their nostrils. -She then replaced the lid, perceived and picked up the fallen hat, -gloves, and whip of the minister, looked at him as the most careless and -slovenly man she ever saw in her life, brushed and put away the things, -and hurried on with her preparations for supper. - -“And is this the residence of the wealthy and distinguished General -Garnet’s widow and daughter?” said Sinclair, in a deep, stern tone, -looking around upon the rough walls. - -“It is the home of General Garnet’s daughter, certainly, and the -temporary home of his wife.” - -“Ah! I beg your pardon, earnestly—yet—the mistake was very natural,” -said the minister. - -“Hugh, attend to that gentleman’s animal in the very best manner. Dear -Magnus, please to get me some more wood. Hugh, take the bucket, and, as -you come back, bring me a bucket of water. Dear Magnus, we must not -forget to request the minister to christen our baby. It may be a long -time before we have another opportunity, and anyhow, I prefer Mr. -Sinclair to officiate; it will be so interesting, he being mother’s old -friend,” said Elsie, as she hurried about, speaking to first one and -then another, attending to everything and forgetting nothing. Supper was -speedily placed upon the table—tea, fresh butter and eggs, venison, and -the nice biscuits. The minister asked a blessing, but ate little. And -soon after they arose from the table, Mr. Sinclair pleaded fatigue, and -requested to be shown to his room. - -Dr. Hardcastle attended him to his chamber. - -When Magnus returned to the family room he found the tea things had been -already washed up and put away, the hearth swept, the fire replenished, -and the two ladies with their needlework, and Hugh with his books, all -gathered around the table that was lighted by but one tallow candle. He -drew a chair up with the rest, and, putting his hand in his pocket, -said: - -“I have got a letter from Huttontown.” - -“A letter from Huttontown!” exclaimed all three, looking eagerly up. - -“Yes, from Mr. Wilson.” - -“What’s the news? How is father?” asked Elsie. - -“Does he speak of the general? How is he?” inquired Alice anxiously. - -“How are all the folks? How is Aunt Joe and Nettie?” asked Hugh Hutton. -All were speaking together, and all eagerly awaiting an answer. - -“Peste! ladies and young gentleman, I cannot answer all at once,” said -Magnus, smiling, yet with something constrained in his manner. “I will -read the letter; it is very short; a mere note—a mere matter of -business.” - -“Well?” said Alice, seeing him pause. - -“A mere announcement, in truth—a—but I will read it. Hugh, you’re -discreet?” - -“Yes, sir.” - -“Elsie, my dear, I have been anxious to submit this letter to your -mother and yourself all the evening.” - -“Well, well, Magnus. My mother is on thorns, and I am scarcely more at -ease. Has anything happened? You look ‘perplexed, yet not in -despair’—not like the recipient of very ill news.” - -“Why, no, not of ill news, yet strange news. You know before I came away -from Huttontown the last time I requested the Rev. Mr. Wilson to inform -me immediately by letter of anything important that might occur at Mount -Calm, and concern us.” - -“Yes, yes. Well?” - -“He has done so. Here is his letter—listen.” - - “HUTTONTOWN, January, 18—. - - “DEAR DR. HARDCASTLE: At our last interview you desired me, in the - event of General Garnet’s contemplating any second matrimonial - engagement, to inform you, by letter, without delay, saying that it - vitally concerned the welfare of all parties that this should - instantly be done. Without having the most remote idea of the cause of - your very emphatic instructions, I hasten to obey them, by advising - you that General Garnet and Miss Wylie of Point Pleasant are to be - married on Tuesday next. Nothing is talked of but the match and the - great preparations making for the wedding at Point Pleasant, and for - the reception of the bride at Mount Calm. The family of the lady seem - very well pleased with the match. Ulysses Roebuck, the jilted lover, - has gone—sailed for Europe, with the purpose of making the grand tour. - - “There, you have the facts that most interest you. There is nothing - else stirring; all the same dull, dead level; a birth, death, or - marriage would be an historical event in this village. - - “With respects to your lady, I remain, - “Your sincere friend, - “E. WILSON.” - -“Good Heaven! There, what did I tell you, Elsie!” exclaimed Alice, -clasping her hands. - -“My dear mother! my darling mother! never mind. There is one love on -earth that shall never fail you. I can have no second mother,” said -Elsie, rising and throwing her arms around the lady’s neck. - -“Magnus, you see that I must go. I must write to-night, to prepare him -for my arrival, and to-morrow I must set out myself.” - -“Oh, no, mother; don’t go! It will be worse than ever now in your old -home. Oh, mamma, don’t go! Write—only write. Or if it be indispensable -that someone go, Magnus will. Will you not, Magnus?” - -“I will do whatever your mother wishes.” - -“Then, dearest Magnus, mail my letter to-night, even late as it is, and -prepare to set out with me to-morrow. Yet, no: you must not leave Elsie. -Prepare me a way to go alone.” - -“Dear Mrs. Garnet, dear friend, I implore you not to think of going. I -will go myself.” - -“Magnus, dear, you know that upon some points I can be stubborn. I must -go straight to Mount Calm,” said Alice. - -And despite all arguments and entreaties, she persisted in her -resolution. - -“Then, since you will go, I shall attend you to the end of your journey, -and—bring you back—perhaps.” - -“But, Elsie; you cannot leave her alone and unprotected at home.” - -“She will not be alone; Hugh will be with her; and for protection, my -brave wife can protect herself, if necessary. Pooh! my dear madam, I -would leave Elsie here in the heart of the wilderness six months, if -needful, without fear or hesitation. She is one in a million, our Elsie. -What say you, dear Elsie?” - -“I say—go with mother if you love me, Magnus. See her safe to her -journey’s end, and, if it be possible, bring her safe back to me again.” - -That same night Alice’s letter was written and mailed. - -The next morning, at an early hour Alice Garnet set out, under the -protection of Dr. Hardcastle, for the East. - -An hour later, when the Rev. Mr. Sinclair arose and came down to -breakfast, Mrs. Hardcastle tendered him the compliments and excuses of -his host, informing him that a domestic affair of vital moment called -Mrs. Garnet suddenly to Mount Calm, whither Dr. Hardcastle was instantly -obliged to attend her. - -After breakfast the minister, leaving his respects and adieus for the -absentees, took leave and proceeded on his journey. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXIV. - WHAT CAME NEXT. - - Uncomfortable time! why camest thou now - To murder—murder our solemnity? - _—Shakspere._ - - -It was two days before the appointed wedding day, and General Garnet sat -in his library, over his wine, in deep consultation with his lawyer. - -“And, you say, sir, that my will might be successfully contested?” he -asked, setting down his empty glass, and looking anxiously, half -angrily, at the attorney. - -“I give it, sir, as my best digested legal opinion, that in the event of -your death, should the will by which you bequeath all this vast property -to your adopted daughter be contested, it would probably be set aside in -favor of Alice Chester Hardcastle, the only living representative of the -old Chester family, who have held the land from the first settlement of -the country to the present time—upward of two hundred years. You know, -sir, that the decision of the case would rest finally with the jury, and -such are the prejudices in favor of wealth, rank, hereditary descent, -and——” - -“Well! speak out—justice, you would add, I suppose,” said General -Garnet, filling his glass and passing the bottle. - -The lawyer bowed. - -“Well, sir! what of these prejudices? Finish your sentence.” - -“That scarce a jury could be found to give a verdict against your legal -daughter—a Chester—and in favor of your—I beg your pardon—adopted -daughter—a stranger and an alien.” - -“Sir, you know nothing of the law. I shall seek better legal advice,” -exclaimed General Garnet, bringing down his glass upon the table with a -force that shivered it, and rising in an excited manner. - -“You may seek other, and find more palatable advice, sir. Our -consultation ends here. I wish you good-evening, sir,” said the lawyer, -rising and going to the door. - -“Stay!” said General Garnet, going after him. - -But the attorney bowed deeply and retired. - -General Garnet continued to pace up and down the floor, with a strange, -excited manner, totally at variance with his usual serene -self-possession. Frequently, also, he stopped—poured out and quaffed a -glass of wine. At last, pausing, he struck his forehead, emphatically -exclaiming: - -“I have it, now! a deed! To-morrow morning, the first thing I do will be -to have drawn up, sign, seal, and record a deed of conveyance, giving -the whole of this estate to Garnet Seabright, and retaining only a life -interest in it myself. Yes! a deed! There will be no contesting or -setting aside that, I fancy. And whether I die next year, or a hundred -years hence, Nettie, if she lives, becomes possessed of all this -property. Yes! yes! I must revenge myself upon Hardcastle. I must punish -that ungrateful daughter—true scion of the stubborn Chesters. And by all -means, by any means—I must—will!—elevate and aggrandize Nettie—my child, -my darling, my darling, the only thing on earth that loves me. Yes! -elevate and aggrandize her until I force the world to recognize her. -Nettie, my heart’s core! whose thought has power to banish even the -image of my young bride from my mind!—to banish it, because fair and -lovely and loving as she is—her fantastical and selfish passion, -flattering as it is—is a more selfish thing than your sweet affection, -my darling child. Yet she is beautiful, this fervid Ambrosia! And once -this business settled—this deed that secures wealth and rank to my -Nettie, executed and recorded, I shall be free to yield up soul and -senses to this dream of passion. How my thoughts wander! I am giddy. I -am not well. When ever did I talk to myself before? I must stop this. I -will consult a physician to-morrow,” said General Garnet, sitting down, -and drinking great draughts of wine. - -The next day, true to his purpose, he rode to Huttontown, and had the -deed of conveyance, giving all the great Mount Calm property to Garnet -Seabright, and reserving only a life interest in it himself, drawn up, -signed, and witnessed with all legal formulæ. Then he rode with it -himself to the county town, and had it recorded. In the course of the -day the slight indications of approaching illness that had visited him -the night before returned, and now, with more marked emphasis. Sudden -vertigo, with failure of sight and confusion of thought, would seize him -an instant, pass away—return again, and again pass. He drew up his horse -at last before a doctor’s office, entered, sat down, and apologizing for -troubling the physician with such a trifling indisposition by saying, -jestingly, that he wished to be in perfect health upon his wedding -day—he related his symptoms. - -“It is nothing, sir,” said the physician, after he had felt his pulse, -etc. “It is nothing. Do not be alarmed, I beseech you! Keep a calm mind; -it is of vital importance that you keep a calm mind. I would advise you -to defer your marriage for a few weeks.” - -“Do you think, sir, that I am threatened with——” - -“No, sir! Oh, no, there is not the least occasion for alarm; these -symptoms must yield to a very little judicious treatment. Abstain from -the use of wine and stimulating food, and, above all things, avoid all -agitation and excitement; keep from all places and persons that have the -least effect upon your nerves. A day or so will set you up again. Stay, -I will write you a little prescription. Here, sir, take this—it is -simply a cooling draught; follow directions, and all will be right.” - -General Garnet took the scrap of paper, bowed, and withdrew, with a -contemptuous smile upon his lips, muttering to himself: - -“Fool that I am, to seek medical advice of a fellow whose interest it is -to make and keep me ill for a month or so! Shall I take this -prescription, now? No, I feel better already. The fresh air has revived -me. I will go to Point Pleasant and spend the evening with Ambrosia; her -sweet smile and gentle touch will charm this fitful illness.” - -And turning his horse’s head, General Garnet took the road to Judge -Wylie’s. The sky was clouding up, but, heedless of the threatened rain, -he rode on rapidly to Point Pleasant. He spent a long, delightful -evening with Miss Wylie, and left, at a late hour, more intoxicated than -ever with the alluring beauty of his promised bride, and repeating, in -an impassioned tone, many times, the words of his parting: “To-morrow! -oh, to-morrow, Ambrosia.” - -He faced a cold and driving rain all the way home, and arrived at his -own gate, dripping wet. - -Throwing the reins of his horse to an attendant, he hastened into the -house. The voice of Nettie greeted him. - -“Here, godfather! come in here to the library; here is a good fire, and -your dressing-gown and slippers all warm, and hot coffee and oysters and -wine. I made them for you.” - -Divesting himself of his wet overcoat, cap, leggings, and gloves, he -walked into the library, where he found Nettie presiding over the -comforts she had prepared for him. - -“My dear little brownie! Why are you up so late?” - -“The rain waked me up, godfather, and then I couldn’t sleep any more for -thinking you were out in it. So I got up and dressed myself, and came -down here to make things comfortable for you.” - -“My own Nettie! I have been making things comfortable for you, also! But -where is your granny?” - -“Gone to bed these two hours.” - -“And now you must go, my dear little one. Come and kiss me close, and -then, good-night.” - -The elf sprang to his neck, squeezing him tightly, and rooting herself -into his bosom, as though she would grow there, and then suddenly -springing off, bounded from the room. - -The little supper standing before him did not tempt his appetite. With -another retrospective glance of contempt at the physician’s advice, he -turned to the table and poured out and swallowed glass after glass of -wine. Then, without heeding the mail-bag that hung upon the chair, or -ringing for a servant to clear off the things, or even closing up the -house, as was his invariable custom, he arose and retired to his -chamber. - - * * * * * - -At this same hour, on the turnpike road, about six miles distant from -Mount Calm, plunged on through darkness, mire, and driving rain, a -one-horse chaise, occupied by two travelers—Dr. Hardcastle and Mrs. -Garnet. They traveled on in perfect silence for two hours before -reaching the grounds of Mount Calm. But, upon passing the outer gate and -entering upon the premises, Alice became nervous and uneasy, and at -length she asked: - -“Magnus, do you feel positively assured that he has received my letter, -that he is prepared and expecting to see me?” - -“Without a doubt, dear Mrs. Garnet, he got your letter to-day at noon; -assuredly, late as it is, he must be now expecting us.” - -“I wonder if he really does. I wonder if he has spread the news among -the people of the plantation! It is really necessary to know, dear -Magnus. Else my sudden and unexpected apparition among them will cause a -general alarm and rouse the neighborhood.” - -“Very true, and at the first quarter I come to I will alight and find -out.” - -They rode on in silence until they came to a solitary quarter on the -outskirts of the plantation. Then Dr. Hardcastle, alighting, gave the -reins to Mrs. Garnet, and trudged through the deep mud and pelting rain -to the cabin from whence a faint light issued, and the low, sweet sound -of a violin was heard. He rapped smartly with the handle of his riding -whip. The music ceased, and a voice, which he recognized as belonging to -Bob, the driver, called out from within: - -“Hoo dar, rappin’ at my door dis onseasonable hour o’ de night?” - -“Me, Bob! your old friend, Dr. Hardcastle; open the door and show -yourself.” - -“Oh, my Gor A’mighty, Marse Magnate, is it you, sure ’nough, come from -forrin parts?” ejaculated the old negro, fumbling at the wooden latch -and wrenching open the door. “Come in, come in—come in, Marse Magnate, -come in. Oh, blessed Lor’! I’m so joyed to see you. How is Miss Elsie! -she long o’ you? Come in!” - -“No, Bob, I cannot come in. I am going straight on to the house. Elsie -is not with me; she is at home, and—well, I can’t come in. I only called -by to see you, my old friend, and to ask you if all were well at the -house, and if anything new had happened.” - -“All well dar, honey, ’deed dey is, fus’ rate. Nuffin new, honey, ’cept -’tis Marse I’on g’wne be marry to Miss Ambush Wylie to-morrow night.” - -“Ah! Well, I wrote to General Garnet to say that I was coming to-night; -is he expecting me, do you know?” - -“’Deed he got de letter, honey, caze I fotch it from de pos’ office -myself dis mornin’, an’ de pos’ marser said how it war from out yonder -where you gone to. But I never hear General I’on say nuffin ’bout -’spectin’ no one to de weddin’, ’deed I didn’t, honey. Let me run along -to de house an’ rouse ’em all up and tell ole marse how you’ve come.” - -“No, by no means, Bob. Thank you, good-night,” said Dr. Hardcastle, -jumping into the carriage. - -“All right, he has received your letter, madam; but has not imparted its -contents to anyone. He is doubtless expecting you momentarily; but as no -one else is, your sudden appearance would strike a panic to the -household, suddenly roused up out of their sleep, or perhaps send them -all shrieking from the plantation.” - -“But would not your presence by my side—they know you’re alive—reassure -them?” - -“My dear Mrs. Garnet, they assisted at your funeral, twelve months ago, -and seeing us enter at midnight together will sooner believe me to be a -second ghost than you to be a living woman. No, my dear friend, you must -veil yourself closely, and after I have got you into the house, pass -quietly up to General Garnet’s chamber and reveal yourself to him. Here -we are at last,” said Dr. Hardcastle, pulling up before the front door -of the mansion. - -All was dark except a fitful light that gleamed and sunk, and gleamed -and sunk, from the upper windows of General Garnet’s chamber—as if a -candle was expiring there in the socket. - -“It must be near two o’clock—yet he is still sitting up for me—see -there,” whispered Alice, pointing to the flashing and darkening light. - -“He must be alone, and have dropped asleep by that expiring light,” -murmured Magnus, as he led her up the stairs to the front door. “Now, -courage, my dear friend. Remember that in me you have a protector near -you,” whispered Dr. Hardcastle, as he fumbled about in the dark for the -knocker. In doing so the door swung silently open—it had evidently been -left ajar. They entered noiselessly. The hall was perfectly dark and -silent; no sound was heard but the moan of the wind and the heavy fall -of the rain without. “Now, dearest Alice, he has evidently left the door -ajar that you might enter without rousing the servants, and make your -way at once to his chamber, where he awaits you. Go on—yet! stay! I do -not like the looks of this thing, either. No one knows of your -existence—no one knows that you were expected here; he awaits you alone -in the solitude, silence, and darkness of deep night. No, Alice! I -cannot let you go alone to his baleful presence—I must attend you.” - -“Not for the world, Magnus. What monstrous thought is in your mind? Does -midnight storm and solitude raise such phantoms of fear in your strong -mind?” - -“Alice! bethink you! he is a man of fearful passions, yet of profound -subtlety and secretiveness. He believed you dead and was about to be -married. He finds that he has been deceived in your death, and that his -own marriage is about to be ridiculously broken off. He has imaginary -injuries to revenge, and endangered joys to secure—both ends to be -reached by one means. And, more than all, he has the fearful temptation -of fancied impunity. Alice, take care! This open door—this silent -house—this lonely watcher in the solitary chamber—this deep night -hour—and the expected lonely visitor. Alice, take care!” whispered -Magnus. - -“Horrible! most horrible. You make my blood curdle. Not with fear, but -with horror, at the monster in your imagination. You must not enter with -me. I will go in alone. Follow, if you please to do so, at a short -distance. I have no such dreadful fear or doubt. I tremble, it is true; -but I should also tremble if, in broad daylight, a score of people -witnessed our meeting. Come on, and remain upon the landing while I go -in.” - - * * * * * - -On entering his chamber General Garnet suddenly bethought himself of -something—he could not exactly think what—forgotten. A strange absence -of mind, temporary loss of memory, transient confusion of thought, had -fitfully afflicted him all day long. He put his hand to his forehead, -and walked up and down in doubt and perplexity, then suddenly -recollecting what he wanted, he rang the bell, and when a servant, -half-dressed, appeared, demanded, impatiently: - -“Anything from the post office to-day, sir?” - -“Yes, marser. Bob, he went to de post office an’ fotch de bag.” - -“Then where is it, you scoundrel? and why was it not brought to me?” -stamped the master. - -“De-ur-ur——” stammered the negro, in fear and perplexity, scratching his -head for an answer. - -“Sir!” thundered General Garnet. - -And the reply bolted from the lips of the negro as if thumped out by a -blow between his shoulders: - -“Ugh! Yes, sir! You wan’t comed home when it ’riv, marser, an’ I hanged -it on a chair by de liberry table, where you could see it when you -comed.” - -“And if I had forgotten all about it, as I did, you scoundrel! Go and -bring it to me. Vanish!” - -The man precipitately retreated, and soon reappeared with the mail-bag, -which he placed in the hands of his master, who immediately opened and -turned out its contents. - -“Only one letter! And that—— D——!” exclaimed General Garnet, recognizing -the handwriting of Magnus Hardcastle in the superscription of Alice’s -letter. “Here, you sir! Come here!” added he, hastily blotting out the -superscription and re-directing it. “Come here! take this letter! By the -earliest dawn to-morrow take it back to the post office, that it may be -in time for the mail, and tell the postmaster to send it back where it -came from.” He tossed the letter toward the feet of the negro, who -tremblingly approached, picked it up, and retired from the chamber. - -Left alone he paced up and down the floor in troubled thought, for about -the space of an hour. All about the house was profoundly still; no sound -was heard but the mournful murmur of the wind, and the dreary beating of -the rain. The clock struck twelve, and the strokes fell through the -awful stillness of the night with preternatural solemnity. - -“So late! and I not yet calm enough to sleep—fearing to sleep, almost, -lest I should never wake again. What is this? Why now does the solitude -and silence of my chamber so affect, so appall, me? The truth is, I am -ill! must be, or I should not be so weak. I did not kill her. No, I did -not kill her. I did not take any means to recover her for hours? Well! -what if I did not? That was not murder! I let her die in her fit for -want of assistance? She might have died anyhow. Why does her image haunt -my bed, driving sleep thence? Oh, miserable weakness! Oh, cowardice! -Would my bitterest enemy believe it of me? that I dread to look around -me, lest I see her face? It is this that is my illness. Oh, doctor! can -your drugs banish her thoughts? Pshaw! They say nothing evil can come -into the neighborhood of innocence. Nettie! my Nettie is near me! in the -next room. Surely my reason wanders. What evil could come nigh me? She -was not ‘evil’ on earth. She is not ‘evil’ in heaven. She would not -avenge herself, if she could. Oh, wretched driveling! What am I talking -of? I am ill—I must be. It is illness that raises these phantoms of -dread. And solitude and uncommunicated thoughts and sorrows have caused -this illness. Courage! This is my last lonely night. To-morrow, and ever -after to-morrow, the cheerful face of that fair girl shall banish all -such sickly fancies. To-morrow, and ever after to-morrow. But to-night I -cannot rest at all. I—I will go and look at Nettie, sleeping; the -innocence of slumbering childhood shall disperse the cloud of devils -lowering over me. Nettie! ‘The sins of the father shall be visited upon -the children——’ I dare not. No! I dare not now. No! I dare not.” - -He dropped upon a chair—struck both hands to his forehead, whence the -cold sweat oozed. He sat there, heedless, while the wind moaned around -the house, and the rain beat drearily against the windows. He sat there, -motionless, until the clock struck one, and the stroke fell like a -knell. He started then, but relapsed, immediately, into statue-like -stillness. The hour passed on, while the rain still beat, and the wind -still moaned. The candle burned low in its socket, but he did not heed -it. It flashed, filling the room with a strange brilliancy, and sunk, -leaving it in darkness—but he did not heed it. It flashed and -darkened—and flashed and darkened ever—but he did not heed it. - -The door swung open—but he did not know it. Alice, his lost wife, stood -within, motionless—pale—but he did not see her. She gazed at him—growing -paler every instant—she glided toward him—she stood over him—where he -sat, with his face buried in his hands—but he gave no sign of -consciousness. Trembling, pale, and cold with fear, she laid her icy -hands upon him, saying, in a voice faint and hollow with exhausted -emotion: - -“Aaron, I have come.” - -He sprang up as if shot; his face ashy pale, his countenance aghast, -hair bristling, eyes starting with horror, as he exclaimed: - -“Then such things are! You have taken form at last! or else—yes—it must -be so—I am mad—mad!” - -Dashing his hands against his forehead, as though to shut out a horrible -vision, he sunk back again into his chair. - -Astonished, terrified, shuddering, Alice approached again, kneeled by -his side, spoke gently, soothingly, deprecatingly to him. - -But ere she ceased speaking his hands dropped from his forehead, his -head sank upon his bosom, his form swayed to and fro an instant, and -then he fell forward, prostrate, at the feet of his wife. - -A succession of violent screams from Alice brought Dr. Hardcastle -rushing in at one door, and Nettie, in her nightgown, flying in at the -other. - -They gathered around the fallen man. They raised him, set him in his -chair. - -General Garnet was dead. - - * * * * * - -After that the wild shrieks of a distracted child, refusing to be -comforted, filled the house of death. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXV. - THE FLIGHT OF TIME. - - And years flew by, and the tale at last - Was told as a sorrowful one, long past. - _—Mistletoe Bough._ - - -It was the morning of Garnet Seabright’s majority, when she was to come -into possession of the vast estate given her by her adopted father, and -she was expecting a visit from her trustee to give an account of his -stewardship and yield up his office. - -Lionel Hardcastle, foreordained by General Garnet as the husband of his -inheritrix, had been appointed trustee of the estate and guardian of the -heiress, and of—his own interests at the same time. - -And well had he fulfilled his trust; no Eastern despot had even -established a stricter guard over a young Georgian maid than did this -guardian over the heiress. At the early age of twelve he had placed her -at a strict convent school, where she avowed that she had to eat, drink, -and sleep; pray, sing, and learn lessons; sit, stand, and walk by exact -rule. We may fancy the effect of such a discipline upon our wild child. -The fleet deer of the mountain penned, the free bird of the air caged, -was nothing to this wild child of sea and land confined! At first she -was anxious to go; for all children like change; but at the first visit -of her guardian, whom with her confiding nature she already loved, she -sprang upon his lap, threw her arms around his neck, entreated, prayed, -wept to be taken away; and when she found her vehement solicitations -vain, she passionately dashed her hand into his face, called him an evil -spirit, sprang from his arms, and threw herself face downward flat upon -the floor; called the good sisterhood a pack of witches, with Hecate at -their head, and threatened to starve herself to death, as the partridge -did she tried to tame once; and so, by this conduct, got herself into -disgrace for a week. There is great adaptativeness in childhood, and in -time our little girl became reconciled to her convent, especially as the -gentle nuns took an affectionate interest in civilizing the little -barbarian, who, notwithstanding her faults, drew all hearts to herself. -The effect of this conventual education was altogether good. It -cultivated and directed the powers of her intellect and moral sense, and -taught her to control the almost savage strength and daring of her -passionate and energetic nature. But she left the convent distinguished -by the same inflexibility of will with which she had entered its walls. -By the will of her adopted father she was not to marry until she had -attained the age of twenty-one, and though then her choice was not -absolutely controlled, it was directed to her guardian. It was upon this -account, and to seclude her from society and the chance of forming -another attachment, that, despite the conscientious expostulations of -the Mother Superior, he left her boarding at the convent until she had -nearly reached her twentieth birthday. About that time Miss Seabright -became inspired with a desire to see the world—not society, but the -earth and all thereon; so, without asking any favors, she expressed her -will to leave the convent and travel for a year. This proposition well -suited the views of her guardian, as it obviated the awkward necessity -of leaving her in the convent, or the impolitic alternative of -introducing her into society, and gave him an admirable opportunity of -pressing his suit, and even imposing upon her the inevitable propriety -of accepting him. - -They made the tour of Europe together, journeying over the kindred soil -of Old England, the “sunny land” of France, the old chivalric mountains -of Spain, the classic plains of Italy and Greece, the Alpine precipices -of Switzerland; along the forest, rock, and castle-shadowed rivers of -Germany; over the snow-clad plains of Russia, and thence down amid the -mosques and seraglios of Turkey. By Mr. Hardcastle’s position and -connection in America, and his letters of presentation to our ministers -abroad, he might have obtained introduction for himself and ward into -the best society of every capital in Europe, but it did not suit his -policy to do so. And even when her love of travel was somewhat sated, -and Miss Seabright expressed a desire to enter the world of society, he -put her off from time to time with various excuses. As her wish to -mingle with the world was not very strong, she did not insist. And thus -at the end of thirteen months’ travel in Europe Miss Seabright set out -on her return home as “innocent of the knowledge” of the world as when -she had left her convent walls. She had had the opportunity of studying -deeply but one specimen of human nature, and him she had well -learned—her guardian and traveling companion, Lionel Hardcastle. -Repeatedly had he pressed his suit, and eloquently had he pleaded the -passion with which his recent intimate association with the unique and -beautiful girl had inspired him. And repeatedly, amid protestations of -gratitude and friendship, had she lamented her utter inability to meet -his love. He bided his time! - -It was in this relative position that the guardian and ward returned to -Mount Calm early in the spring of 18—. Miss Seabright had indulged her -love of luxury with the purchase of elegant furniture in France. These -had been transported to Mount Calm, where the mansion house had been -superbly fitted up for the reception of its young mistress. - -It was then a fine day in the month of March that Miss Seabright sat in -her library, awaiting the arrival of her guardian. - -“Mr. Lionel Hardcastle!” announced a servant, throwing open the door. -Miss Seabright seated herself before the library table, and Mr. Lionel -Hardcastle entered the library, accompanied by old Mr. Hardcastle, his -father, and a lawyer. - -A half hour was occupied in the reading and transferring of certain -documents, of which the lawyer finally took charge. - -Then the gentlemen got up to take leave. Miss Seabright also arose, to -dismiss them; but when she saw that Lionel Hardcastle was about to bow -the others out with the purpose of remaining himself, she courteously -advanced, and invited them all to remain and dine. A quick telegraphic -look from Lionel Hardcastle to his father arrested the old gentleman’s -intention of accepting, so that, excusing himself, he took leave and -withdrew, followed by the lawyer. Miss Seabright also followed, with the -intention of leaving the library, but Lionel Hardcastle intercepted her -purpose by bowing the gentlemen out, and closing the door after them. -Miss Seabright retreated to the library table, where she stood erect, -with one hand resting upon the table, and with her fiery eyes -concentrating all their rays into a burning focus in the gaze she fixed -upon his face. Yet he winced not; but advancing calmly toward her, said: -“That attitude and gaze, Miss Seabright, would remind me that my -authority as your guardian ceases from this hour.” - -“Without referring to that circumstance, Mr. Hardcastle, I would only -plead excessive weariness of this room, and to be excused for the -remainder of the day.” - -“You do not look in the least fatigued; and just now you even invited my -father and your lawyer to remain and dine with you.” - -“And extended the same invitation to yourself; which I now repeat. Will -you now accept it, and excuse me for an hour’s repose until dinner -time?” she asked calmly—calmly, yet he could see by those dark eyes, -which blazed and darkened under their heavy lids like a flashing and -expiring flame, that under that quiet exterior, volcanic passion -stirred, threatening every instant to break out in destroying fury, and -only restrained by the force of her own will and the power of her own -moral sense. - -He folded his arms, and gazed on her; his look was resolved, his face -was ashen pale, all the strength and fire of his nature seemed -concentrated and burning in his eyes, and in the gaze he fixed upon her -face. He answered, slowly, “No, Miss Seabright; there is no repose for -me, shall be none for you, until you hear me. I will not leave this -room, nor suffer you to leave it, until you hear me. Hitherto you have -disregarded your benefactor’s expressed will and wishes, contemned my -claims, despised my love.” - -“Your ‘love’? Is yours the language or the deportment of love?” she -asked, in the deep, stern tone of suppressed indignation. - -His manner suddenly changed; and from insolent and threatening, became -submissive and deprecating. He dashed his hands suddenly against his -forehead, then threw himself at her feet, seized her hands and dropping -his head upon them, almost wept, exclaiming: “No, no, Garnet! mine were -not the words or acts of love, but of ‘love to frenzy driven.’ I -forswear them. Pardon me, pardon me. Garnet, I love you! I adore you! I -worship you! Not that you have beauty, grace, genius—all these I have -seen in other women, with an undisturbed heart—but there is a unique -power in your look that draws me to you; there is a fire in your soul -and in your eyes that draws me to you as the sun attracts the earth. -Daughter of the sun you are indeed, with all his reddish rays -concentrated in your being, as in the burning gem, your family namesake. -Garnet, oh, Garnet, I rave still, and more insanely than before. Garnet, -restore peace, calmness, self-possession, and reason to my soul! Give -your peerless self to me! Be my salvation! Speak to me! Answer me! Say -something, oh, dear Garnet!” - -Her lightning anger, quick to subside as to flash forth, had died away. -As he held her hands, kissing them and almost weeping over them, she -answered, in a low voice: “Alas! Mr. Hardcastle, what shall I say? What -can I say, that I have not said with pain before this? I feel honored by -your esteem; I feel grateful for your love; I feel humbled that I cannot -return it. It is no disparagement to you—it is a misfortune, perhaps, to -me—that I cannot do so. One cannot always admire what may be admirable, -or esteem what may be estimable, still less can they always love what is -lovable. Yet I am disposed to entertain a profound friendship for you. -My dear guardian, cease then to torment yourself and me farther with -this question. I cannot marry,” she said, gently but firmly, as she sank -into the chair behind her. - -“Cannot marry!” he repeated, rising and throwing himself upon a sofa -near her. “Cannot marry! Have you then made a vow of celibacy? Has your -convent education imbued you with that notion?” - -“No; Heaven forbid! I have formed no resolution of leading a single -life. I should not be happy in such a destiny, should not even if I were -already blessed with father and mother, sisters and brothers, cousins -and friends—how could I possibly expect to be, standing perfectly alone -as I do? I have a sisterly affection for you—not love! There be many -affections; but only one love! only one—marriage.” - -He had restrained himself as long as it was possible to do so. He now -started from the sofa where he had reclined, watching her with pale -cheeks and burning gaze, and, starting toward her with clenched fist, he -exclaimed: - -“Yes, haughty girl, you speak truth; there is but one marriage—for you! -You are compelled to marry me! The world expects it of you. Is not the -will of your benefactor known? Are we not generally supposed to be -betrothed? Did we not make the tour of Europe alone together? The world -expects you to marry me. And you will forever lose the respect of the -world by failing to do so.” - -Her brow crimsoned, her eyes blazed. She arose to her feet and answered -slowly: - -“And I would rather lose the respect of the world by rejecting you than -deserve to lose it by accepting you.” - -“Fool! Have you no regard for your reputation?” - -“Yes; but think it wrong to secure good reputation at the expense of -good character.” - -“What paradox, what nonsense is that?” - -“Oh! they are not synonymous terms, character and reputation; on earth -they never have been, on earth they never will be. Often they are -antagonistic words. Many of the heroes and martyrs of history, the -demigods of our adoration, were men of the best characters, with—while -they lived—the worst reputations.” - -“Then you have no respect for the good opinion of the world?” - -“Yes! my aspiring heart! too much, I fear, for my soul’s good; and I -know, I know by all the glorious gifts of Heaven to me, I know by all my -mighty power for good or ill, by all my absolute unswerving will to -good, I know that I have a right and title, Heaven-patented, not to the -passive good opinion, but to the honor, the co-operation of the world.” - -“And I tell you, haughty woman, as you stand here a very goddess of -pride, I tell you as you stand here beneath these halls, where you -should never have stood, invested with all this power, that you should -never have possessed, armed with the might of vast wealth and of high -talent, arrayed in the magic charms of young womanhood and perfect -beauty—I tell you, that you are now—naught that you will be, unless you -marry me—a suspected, proscribed, banned, outcast woman!” He expected -this to overwhelm her. But she turned her large, dark, solemn eyes, -solemn now with prophetic inspiration, upon him, and inquired calmly: - -“Why?” - -“Listen, girl. You are ambitious, arrogant, scornful. Yet a few words -from me will subdue all that, by showing you that you are obliged to -marry me. Attend! we made the tour of Europe alone together, putting up -at the same hotels, having a common parlor, a common table, a common -carriage——” - -“Well, sir! That is easily understood in guardian and ward.” - -“Not when the guardian is a man of thirty-seven and the ward a girl of -twenty; not when - - “‘Both are young and one is beautiful,’” - -he added sneeringly. “Often, you know it, we were mistaken for a married -pair——” - -“And for brother and sister,” she added, the blood mounting to her brow. - -“Which we were not. Now attend! All that familiarity may be understood -in a guardian and ward, who are, besides, known to be betrothed to each -other, and who keep their tacit promise to society by marriage. Now, -listen! if you should not consent to marry me——” - -“If I do not! I will not. There is no if.” - -“Then all your beauty, wealth, and talent, with all the power they give -you, avail you nothing. You are an outcast!” - -She dropped into her chair again, she paled even to her lips, the fire -died out of her eyes, and even from every lurid ring of her dark, bright -hair. He gazed at her ironically, saying slowly: - -“Ah! you do not care for the opinion of the world.” - -“Do I not?” she exclaimed, with sudden and impassioned energy, “do I not -aspire to the honor of all the world? Do I not know and feel by all that -I am and have, and by all that I purpose to do and to be, that I have a -God-given patent to such honor? Has not my soul prophesied it?” - -“And I repeat to you, haughty woman, that unless you marry me, you will -not have it. Your powers are all paralyzed.” - -She dropped her hands upon her lap, her head upon her bosom, in the -collapse of despair. - -“Ha! trapped, palsied, helpless!” he exclaimed exultingly. “Where is now -your vaunted independence? your pride? your scorn? Gone! quite gone! -Why, so much the better. You will make the better wife for the loss of -that. Come, Garnet, I love you; could worship your beauty, sometimes, -only that it seems to spoil you; come, I love you. Let us cease this -absurd quarrel and be friends. Come, do not look so despairingly. Harsh -and stern as I may be when threatened with your loss, I shall not make -such a bad husband. And for the rest—bless me, girl, you know my family -and my standing—shall I be such a very ill match for General Garnet’s——” - -He paused, and she raised her deathlike brow, and, wiping the cold drops -of sweat from its pallid surface, said slowly, and with profound -sadness: - -“Oh-h-h! You miserably misconceive my grief. It is this that overwhelms -me; it is the thought of your——” - -“Villainy! Speak out, I will relieve you!” he said sarcastically. - -“I did not mean to use the word.” - -“Policy, then! for it was no more nor less; only finish.” - -“It is this, then, that crushes me with sorrow—the knowledge that you, -my only protector, who should have warned my inexperience against the -least social mistake, and shielded my good name from the slightest -chance of injury; that you, my guardian, having perfect authority over -me, and indisputable control of all my actions; that you, my friend, -having my perfect confidence and affection, that you should have abused -that authority, betrayed that confidence, and wounded that affection by -leading me into a course of conduct pre-calculated, pre-contrived, to -fetter my choice in woman’s dearest privilege, or to blast my fair fame -and palsy my powers of usefulness forever!” - -“Rave on! be abusive, scornful, insulting as you please. But I tell you, -arrogant woman, that he whom you abuse, insult, and scorn will be your -husband yet.” - -“And I tell you, insolent man!” she exclaimed, starting to her feet with -all the fire of her nature burning in her cheeks, and blazing in her -eyes, “I tell you that, wronged, suspected, proscribed, outcast as I may -be; and add to that, poor, friendless, ill, persecuted, desolate as I -may be, I could not fall so low as to become the wife of the wretch you -are. I repel your pretensions with scorn and loathing. Begone!” - -He gazed at her in speechless amazement. Was this incarnate storm, his -ward? the dignified, self-restraining, self-governing Miss Seabright? -Yes, the violent passions of her nature, restrained for many years, had -now burst the bonds of moral power. The volcanic tide of fire that had -ebbed and flowed, and been repressed through all this scene, had now -broken forth in appalling power. Her form was erect—her nostrils -dilated—her brow was crimson, her eyes blazed and darkened, and blazed -and darkened with terrific rapidity. - -“Begone!” she thundered; “out of my sight, or by the Heaven that made -me, I will summon my slaves and have you thrust forth with contumely -from my gates!” Her hand was on the bell, her insane purpose was -indubitable. - -With a gesture of desperation he rushed from the room. - -She gazed after him until he had closed the door. She stood motionless a -long, long time, while the tide of fire ebbed; then, sinking with the -reaction of the exhaustion and self-reproach, she covered her face with -her hands, murmuring in heart-broken tones, “God pity me! God forgive -me! What a nature is mine! With a heart and bosom torn, tortured, -convulsed by storms of ferocious anger, scorn, and pride, yet with a -spirit brooding highly, calmly over all—as above the clouds, and -thunder, and lightning of the earth shine the holy stars of heaven.” - - - - - CHAPTER XXXVI. - LIGHT ON THE ISLAND. - - Her wretched brain gave way, - And she became a wreck at random driven, - Without one glimpse of reason or of Heaven. - - -Long remained Miss Seabright with her head bowed upon her hand in bitter -thought. Twice a servant came and announced dinner without her seeing or -hearing him. The third time, when he approached and spoke close to her -ear, she raised her head languidly and said: - -“Ask Miss Joe to dine without me.” - -And when Miss Joe herself came in with anxious inquiries about her -health, and affectionate offers of tea and toast and jellies, she -answered, with a bitter smile: - -“Oh, be easy, dear friend; a little fasting will not hurt my flesh and -blood!” - -Day waned, and still she maintained her silent and thoughtful posture. -Night came, and a servant entered with candles. The glare of light -aroused her, and, looking up, she saw the dark face of the man turned -ashen gray with fear. “What is the matter, Cæsar?” - -“Light on de island, miss; you kin see it plain as star a-shinin’!” - -“Light on the island? Well, I will go and see myself. Where can this -light be seen from?” - -“From the garret window, miss, sure as you’re born.” - -“Go on before me,” she said, rising from her recumbent posture, and -following the man up the several flight of stairs to the attic. - -Arrived there, in the very front room where Elsie had been a prisoner on -the last night of her stay at Mount Calm, they paused. - -Miss Seabright advanced to the window, threw it up, and looked out at -the clear, brilliant, starlight night. There was not a breath of wind -stirring. The air was still and cold. The rolling hills and plains white -with snow, and intersected only by the belt of forest around the foot of -Mount Calm, reached silently on to the dark boundary of the sea. - -“Why, I see no light at sea; none anywhere except the myriad lights of -stars in heaven!” said Miss Seabright, letting down the window. - -“Bress your soul, miss, no more you can’t; leastwise you puts out de -candle and looks t’rough the spyglass!” - -“Why, here’s a fellow who, not having causes of trouble enough near him, -must put out the light and take a telescope to find out distant ones! -Well, set the candle outside the door, and give me the glass.” And -taking the telescope she went again to the window and hoisted it. “Yes,” -she said, after taking sight, “yes, there is a light shining still and -clear, and apparently fixed near the ruins of the old lodge!” - -“Oh, it can be seen plain as possible from the village,” said Miss Joe, -who now entered, followed by other members of the household. - -Miss Seabright closed the window, and, turning to the assembled group, -said, with her singular smile: - -“Well, now, this is really a very small affair for conjecture, and could -interest none but a country family in the depth of winter. Let us go -downstairs. It is probably some poor, lone soul, who, having no shelter, -has put together the ruins of the old lodge and lives there and supports -himself by fishing and shooting.” - -“Yes,” said Miss Joe, “that might be well enough, and nobody thinks -nothing of it, only you see, honey, the folks from the village have been -over on the island in the broad daytime searching, and they can’t find -the leastest signs of human habitations; the poor, dear old lodge is -more tumble-downder than ever, as in course it must naturally be every -winter, with no one to keep the dear, old crippled thing on its legs. -Lord, child, the neighbors from Huttontown found all so desolute that -the very stars of heaven were shining down into the water collected in -the cellar. No roof, no chimneys, no floors even; nothing but the -lonesome, desolute walls and the stagnant cellar. They didn’t find -anybody, nor any sign of anybody, though they searched all over the -island—but, mind, that was at sunset, and that night about dark the -light blazed up there as bright as ever!” - -“Why did not the neighbors go and search then?” - -“They did. They got into the boats and rowed straight back, watching the -ghostly light all the time, and just afore they landed it was out.” - -“Did they carry a light in their boats?” - -“Certain.” - -“Then the great problem is solved. It was some fugitive slave, a refugee -on the island, who, seeing the approach of the boats by the lights they -carried, extinguished his light and concealed himself.” - -“As if he could. Lor’, child, where could he hide away on that island? -All plain and bare, and bleak as it is; no bit o’ woods, no hollow; -nothing but the outside walls o’ the old lodge, with its cellar full o’ -water, and the lonesome, bare trees standin’ far apart like ghosts.” - -“True, very true; there is not a hiding place possible on the island. -But I cling to the thought of the fugitive refugee, who, seeing the -invaders, probably extinguished his light and took boat for the open -sea.” - -“No, honey, that w’a’nt it. Bless you, they thought of that at once, and -lit more pine knots, and separated, and run all around the coast of the -little islet, and flashed their lights about, and couldn’t see sign of a -boat on the waters.” - -“Then I am at the end of conjecture. Come, let us go down. It is cold up -here. Take up the candle, Cæsar,” said Miss Seabright, turning to go -from the room. - -“Yes, let’s go down; it is so cold up here. And supper’s ready in the -little red parlor. That’s what I come to tell you, when these niggers -all followed me. I told Milly, long as you hadn’t eat any dinner, and -felt sort o’ low spirited, to get supper airly, and br’il a pair of -pa’tridges. A cup o’ good, strong Young Hyson tea, with light biscuits -and br’iled pa’tridges, is very good for lowness o’ spirits. I knows it, -’cause I’ve tried it myself.” - -They hurried through the bleak passages, and downstairs. - -Miss Seabright, preceded by the servant bearing the candle, and followed -by the old lady, entered the parlor. The comfortable little parlor, with -its thick carpet, heavy curtains, soft sofa, bright fire, and elegant -tea-table, was certainly a specific for mere low spirits. The old lady -bustled past Garnet, and set the urn upon the table, burning her fingers -slightly, and rubbing them, while she exclaimed cheerily: - -“There now, sit down. As there’s no one here but you and me, you know, -you can draw the end of the sofy to the table and loll on that, while I -pour out your tea and butter you a biscuit. Cæsar, you cut up that -pa’tridge for your young mist’ess—not that one, you stupid creetur! -t’other one, it’s the plumpest. Now you see, honey, the maids have got -through their day’s work, for a wonder, and I have got time to stay in -the parlor and enjoy myself ’long o’ you. And so we’ll have a jolly good -evening; you can loll on the sofa and enjoy yourself with your low -spirits and cologne bottle—only don’t waste it—and I can sit here and -patch my old gown, and talk about old times.” - -Garnet looked at the good-natured face of the old lady, and felt -compunction for the answer she was about to make. - -“I am sorry to spoil the plan of your evening’s entertainment, Miss Joe, -but I am going to explore Hutton’s Island to-night.” - -“Going to explore Hutton’s Island to-night!” exclaimed Miss Joe, -dropping knife and fork, and staring at her. - -“Yes.” - -“You!” - -“Yes.” - -“The Lord have mercy upon her! I’ve been havin’ of my misgivin’s all -this time, but now I know she’s a little deranged!” said Miss Joe to -herself. Then speaking aloud, in something of the tone one would take in -addressing a sick and delirious child, “No, no, honey, don’t think of -it! You’re sick, you know, and it is cold and dark and dangerous. Then, -it isn’t proper for a young lady to do such a thing, anyhow!” - -Miss Seabright smiled a queer smile, as she replied: - -“For the first objections, my good old friend, cowardice is not one of -my weaknesses; for the last”—she paused and her smile deepened in -meaning—“I made a start in life by quite innocently perpetrating a -heinous, a fatal—crime? no, impropriety! I broke no law of God or man; -yet I am told that for all that I shall be banished from society unless -I do commit a sin, in open day, in the face of society; who will then -forgive me!” - -“Mad! mad!” said Miss Joe to herself, gazing at the ironical girl. - -“Well! - - “‘What’s _banished_ but yet free?’ - -I will do whatever I please—conventional or unconventional! I will break -no law of God’s or man’s, and after that is said, all is said for me. -For the rest, I will do whatever my spirit impels me to do, whether the -world likes it or not!” said Garnet, speaking more to herself than to -another, and rising and ringing the bell. - -“Mad! mad! mad! and getting worse every minute,” said Miss Joe, hurrying -out, and hastening into the front hall, where Cæsar was lighting the -lamp. - -“Cæsar, come here to me, quick—close. Hush! don’t say anything. Go as -hard as you can to Hemlock Hollow, and tell Mr. Lionel Hardcastle how he -must come as fast as possible here; how he’s wanted badly, very badly. -Hurry—mount a fast horse, and go as quick as ever you can!” - -The man, with his eyes staring wide, ran to obey. Miss Joe then returned -to the parlor, where she found Garnet giving directions to a servant to -have two horses saddled, and prepare himself to attend her down to the -shore. Miss Seabright was giving her orders with so much calmness and -precision that the old lady thought she had a lucid interval in her -madness, and that this afforded her an excellent opportunity for -argument; so, as soon as the man retired, she said coaxingly: - -“My dear child, think of it!” - -“I do, Miss Joe; and the more I think of it the more I want to go. I am -determined to vary the tedious monotony of my days with a little -adventure!” - -“My dear child, you have heard of the fate of Agnes! How she was either -murdered or carried off from that island by unknown ruffians!” - -“I heard long ago of her mysterious disappearance, Miss Joe, and I -always thought, and think now, that in her deep despair for the sudden -loss of her husband she drowned herself. I think so the more that never -before or since that strange occurrence, has any outrage been attempted -on the island. Think of the years we lived there alone with nothing to -disturb our quiet. Why, often in the fond superstition of my childhood, -when I have waked up in the night, have I risen and gone out into the -starlight, and rambled all over the isle in the hope of surprising the -fairies at their midnight revels! Well, if I never found them, I never -found anything worse. No, Miss Joe, there is no danger. If there were, I -do not know the fear of it. That solitary light on the isle belongs to -some solitary wretch, poorer and more friendless even than we were; one -whose misfortunes or crimes make him dread and shun the approach of his -fellow-men; one whom I do not fear to seek; one whom, if I find, I shall -try to relieve. And I will tell you, if that will ease your kind anxiety -upon my account, I will direct Pompey to take a pair of pistols.” - -As she finished speaking a servant appeared at the door, and announced -that the horses were ready. - -She left the parlor, and soon returned prepared for her ride, and -immediately set out. - -Miss Joe fidgeted up and down the hall in great disturbance of mind. In -about ten minutes after Miss Seabright had left the house the quick -trampling of horses announced the arrival of Lionel Hardcastle. He -hurried into the house, booted and spurred as he was, and asked rapidly: - -“Where is Miss Seabright? Has she sent for me?” - -“No, sir; no. It was me that sent for you. Come here—here in the parlor, -sir. I have got something terrible to tell you. Shut the door.” - -He followed her into the parlor, closing the door as requested, and -stared with astonishment at the old lady’s excited countenance, while -with rapid enunciation she related all that had happened just before and -since his visit in the forenoon. Miss Seabright’s excited manner, her -mad resolution of going that night to Hutton’s Island to find out about -the light, and above all her “real crazy” talking about committing a sin -before the world in order “to keep in long o’ the world.” Mr. Hardcastle -listened with a sarcastic smile until he heard of her night expedition; -then his sinister face lighted up with demoniac joy, to conceal which he -quickly averted his head. - -“Ha! with only one attendant, say you?” - -“With no one, sir, but Pomp—sure as you’re born.” - -“I must instantly go after her then.” - -“Oh, do, sir! do hurry!” said Miss Joe, and in five minutes more Lionel -Hardcastle, with the dark and lowering brow of a fiend hidden by the -night, was galloping swiftly toward the coast, muttering in his heart: -“Now, scornful girl, shall my love and vengeance both be sated!” - -In the meantime Garnet had reached the shore at which the Mount Calm -fleet of boats were chained—boats of all sizes, from the long skiff to -the twelve-oared canoe and the sail-boat. She entered the smallest of -the skiffs, followed by Pompey, who immediately unlocked the chain, took -the single oar, and pushed off from the sandy beach. The bay was -perfectly smooth, and reflected the dark, resplendent sky, with its -myriads beyond myriads of shining lights so distinctly that the little -skiff seemed to glide among the stars as it sped over the waters. Soon -before then lay Hutton’s Island, like a darker line upon the sea. And -there, like a single star, shone the solitary light! Yet so much deeper -was Garnet’s love of nature than of adventure, that she delivered -herself up to intense enjoyment of the starlight night on the waters, -forgetful of her errand, until the slight shock of the skiff, touching -upon the strand of the island, aroused her from her trance. Then, when -she looked up, the light on the isle was gone. - -“That is very provoking! Now who would have thought that darkly and -silently as we came we should have been perceived? However, light your -pine knot, Pompey, and come along.” - -Pompey had been selected as her attendant in this expedition by Miss -Seabright, as being the least superstitious and cowardly of all her men, -yet now the namesake of “The Invincible” shrank back in dread, -muttering: - -“Indeed, indeed, miss, you’d better not!” - -“Pompey! whoever the dweller on this isle is, it is some poor wretch, -more worthy of our pity than of our fear; weak and timid, since it -watches and hides from even such harmless visitors as we. Come along!” - -“’Deed—’deed, miss, that aint good reasonin’! ’Deed, ’fore my Heavenly -Marster, aint, miss. ’Deed—’deed—’deed—’deed——” muttered Pompey, his -teeth chattering, until he lost his voice. - -“Give me the torch then, Pompey; I will go before. You may follow me as -distantly as you please, and run at the first alarm!” - -“I think that would be the mos’ safes’, miss; caze dey wouldn’t be so -apt to shoot a young lady, miss, as they would to shoot a colored gemman -ob my siteration in deciety.” - -Without hearing Pompey’s compromise with his cowardice and his -conscience, Miss Seabright, torch in hand, walked up the gradually -ascending rise of ground to the ruins of the old lodge. From being so -long out in the night her eyes had become accustomed to it, so that now, -under the brilliant starlight, the scene was distinctly, though darkly, -before her—the ruin, the isle, and the sea. No sign of fence or outhouse -could be seen as she approached the ruined lodge, whose skeleton walls -stood up square around what seemed a deep, stagnant pond, whose -stillness was drearily broken by the plunge of some toad, snake, or -other loathsome reptile. Blinded or scared by the glare of the torch, -bats flitted to and fro about the ruined walls, water rats ran in and -out among the broken stones, and plunged into the stagnant waters, and -lastly, a huge screech-owl took flight from the blasted tree by the -fallen chimney, “making night hideous” with his yells. Profoundly -saddened by seeing the beloved home of her wild childhood so desolate, -Garnet turned silently away, and passing mournfully over the bleak -ground, reached the strand. Then passing slowly all around the beach, -she looked out upon the waters in search of any stray boat that might -contain the supposed fugitive of the isle. As far as the eye could reach -no sign of a boat could be seen. She then turned inland—if the tiny isle -could be said to have an inland—and searched carefully about, walking -around every specterlike tree standing far apart on the bare, bleak -island, and quite incapable after all of concealing the smallest -possible fugitive in the human shape. But she looked around and up into -them, as I have seen men look under candlesticks and into tiny drawers -for their missing hats, umbrellas, and boot-jacks! After her thorough -search was quite over she turned to her attendant, and said: - -“Well, I am disappointed. There is positively no one here, and the -mystery of the island light is still unsolved.” - -Her attendant did not answer. Thinking that he was still under the -influence of fear, she said: - -“Why, Pompey, we are as safe and as quiet here as I was when I lived -here with Aunt Joe and Hugh.” - -Still her follower did not speak, but rather lingered behind her, and -she herself relapsed into silence, and fell into a reverie, until she -arrived at the farthest extremity of the isle, opposite to that on which -she had landed. This was the northwestern point of the island, and the -same beach upon which she and the sole companion of her childhood, Hugh, -used to pick maninosies. Here, as she walked about watching the starlit -waves break gently on the beach, noting the numerous perforations, where -the maninosies had buried themselves in the sand, the tide of memory -rolled back, overwhelming the apprehension of the present. She saw -herself, a tiny, sprite-like child, stealing out on starlight nights, -and sitting on the pile of rocks, on this very spot, watching in fond -faith for the swimming of the nereids, and mistaking the reflection of -some purple cloud, high up in the heavens, for the royal robe of -Amphytrite in the “deep, deep sea.” She saw herself again in the -daytime, when the setting sun, like Macbeth’s blood-crimsoned hand, -would - - “The multitudinous seas incarnadine, - Making the green one red!” - -she saw herself well shod and warmly clothed, and Hugh, the manly boy, -barefooted, bareheaded, and coarsely clad, yet grandly handsome “as -Hercules ere his first labor!” Hugh, with his noble look and noble -nature; and she smiled to think of the high faith, and hope, and love -that irradiated his fine countenance, as he confidently promised to make -a fortune for her, his sister; to get wealth, rank, honor for her! And -the tears rolled down Garnet’s cheeks, as she thought of the glorious -boy, and thought how many, many years it had been since she had even -inquired his residence or his destiny. - -“He thought,” she said, speaking to herself in a low self-communing -voice, “he thought to have made a fortune before me—to have conferred -wealth, rank, honor upon me! The case might be reversed—it might! oh! I -wish it could! There is only one way in which it could, and that is not -impossible, though remote. This dream that I have enshrined within my -heart—this ideal of goodness and greatness with which only I will -unite—this I owe to Hugh. And oh! if he has fulfilled in his manhood the -glorious promise of his boyhood, whatever his external fate may be, if -he has fulfilled in himself the promise of matured goodness and -greatness—then——” - -“What then?” said a deep voice at her elbow. - -She started slightly, and exclaimed: - -“My guardian!” - -“Yes, Miss Seabright, your guardian; who never found you more in need of -his guardianship than at present.” - -“Sir! why have you followed me here?—where is my servant?” - -“Having come upon him, cowering, several yards behind you, I took the -liberty of sending him back to the mainland, by the boat in which you -came!” - -Garnet’s eyes began to blaze and darken with fearful rapidity. Yet -repressing the mounting fire of anger, she strove to ask calmly: - -“And why did you ‘take the liberty’ of sending my servant away, sir? And -why have you further presumed to break upon my privacy?” - -“One question at a time, if you please, Miss Seabright. I sent your -servant away that I might have the pleasure of a private interview. I -break upon your solitude for the furtherance of the same purpose.” - -“And your object, sir?” - -“To come to a full and final reckoning with you!” he said, his manner -suddenly becoming threatening. - -Garnet pressed both hands upon her bosom, to restrain its violent -throbbings, and answered slowly: - -“I thought, sir, that our last interview, of only this morning, had -finally settled all between us? Upon that occasion I told you some harsh -truths—and with some violence, which I regret; feeling sorry that the -honest verdict of my head and heart should not have been delivered with -more temperance.” - -“And which you shall more deeply regret before we part, scornful girl.” - -Her eyes blazed wide and full, like sudden meteors, and then fell into -darkness, as she replied, with constrained calmness: - -“I pray you, sir, do not provoke me. I am subject to anger, as other -people are to ague and fever.” - -“Ha, ha, ha! Is that meant for an appeal or for a threat? If for an -appeal, I am not subject to magnanimity, as other people are to -insanity!—if for a threat, how ridiculous! Be angry—furious—violent! -What can you do now? Why, thou foolish girl, thou art completely in my -power.” - -“In your power! Not so, insolent creature, ‘whom it were base flattery -to call a man’; there are no circumstances whatever that could put me in -your power.” - -“Why, you absurd woman! look around you. Deep and silent night hangs -over the world. You stand alone with me upon a barren, uninhabited, -sea-girt isle. How far off do you suppose the nearest human being is -from us? How loud a shriek from this lone spot could raise the distant -sleepers of the mainland from their beds?” - -Garnet raised her proud head to give some indignant answer, but meeting -the gaze of her companion, the burning, scathing anger of her reply -froze in horror ere it passed her lips—for never did night lower over a -countenance darker, more dreadful with demoniacal malignity of purpose. -Garnet turned her eyes from the baleful glare of Hardcastle to throw -them over the lone and desert isle on which they stood, and for the -first time a sense of the appalling danger of her situation swam in upon -her brain, and for a moment nearly overwhelmed her. His countenance -lighted up with a fiendish triumph. He continued: - -“Yes, Miss Seabright. Yes, Garnet. You have read my look and purpose -aright. This night must you and I come to a reckoning. This hour, -haughty girl, shall your pride be humbled. To-day you rejected my hand -with scorn. To-morrow shall you sue for it as for life. Ha! already my -triumph begins. You grow pale, lady.” - -“No!—pale? If my cheek did so belie my soul as to grow pale before a -wretch like you, by my soul, I would paint it black for the rest of my -life, and sell myself to base servitude as being too low for any other -sphere. Oh, sir! the sudden revelation of your enormous wickedness -shocked me for a single instant, as if I had unexpectedly been -confronted with the foul fiend—that was all! And now I tell you that -even on this lone sea isle I do not feel myself to be in your power. I -am not the least afraid of you! Afraid of you? I am afraid of nothing. I -do not know the word. I never did know it; and it is not likely that you -can teach it to me.” - -“By Heaven, she defies me even here!” exclaimed Hardcastle, pale with -rage, and striding toward her. - -“Yes,” said Garnet, recoiling a step or two, and standing upon the -fragment of rock where she had so often sat in childhood; “yes,” she -said, reverently raising her eyes and hand, “by Heaven, I do defy you! -Under the protection of Heaven, in the name of Heaven, I do defy you!” - -“Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! Thou fool! Why, what shall hinder me now from -refuting you and taking my revenge?” he said, again striding toward her. - -“Off! A parley, I say! Listen to me a moment. God! myself! yourself -shall hinder you. Mr. Hardcastle, I have this hour conquered a greater -and stronger adversary than yourself—even mine own spirit! I have -overcome my anger; I have the lion of my temper chained beneath my feet. -And now, to put you down will be a much lighter task—much easier -victory. And I tell you now, in coolness, what I told you before in -heat, that I am not afraid of you. Nor shall you falsely take the tone -toward me of one who has the advantage. I know you, Mr. Hardcastle. And -I know your present evil scheme by your former revealed treachery. -Heaven purify my soul from the sin of the knowledge! I know that you now -think you have me at your mercy, and intend to terrify me into making -conditions with you.” - -“In the fiend’s name, young woman, what do you mean?” - -“This, to be explicit: You think to fright me, Garnet Seabright, into -the promise to become your wife, and endow you with the broad lands of -Mount Calm, upon condition of your sparing me, showing mercy to me, and -taking me safely home to Mount Calm.” - -“By all the demons, girl! I wonder that you should dare to give breath -to that fear!” - -“Not fear!” - -“To that suspicion, then. I am amazed that you should venture to place -these conditions before me.” - -“That I should detect and pluck the villainous scheme from your heart, -and hold it up before you. Well, I will go further in my defiance of -you, Mr. Hardcastle, and tell you that, threaten what you may, I will -never, under any circumstances, promise to be your wife. Now, you see -that I know I am not at your mercy.” - -“By Satan, Miss Seabright, I am thunderstruck at your audacity! Girl, -you would be but a sparrow in my grasp! Who could rescue you?” - -“I thank you for the word you used in illustration of my weakness. It -recalls in good time the words of a favorite old volume of mine—a book, -perchance, with which you have not chanced to meet. Listen! ‘Are not two -sparrows sold for a farthing? Verily, I say unto you, not one of these -shall fall to the ground without your Father. Are ye not of more value -than many sparrows?’ Heaven pardon me! I should not have quoted -Scripture here, Mr. Hardcastle. Nevertheless, it helps to make me -fearless now. Sir, I will tell you once for all why I do not fear you. -First, because I trust in God. Next, because I trust in myself. Finally, -because I can somewhat trust in you! Cut off as we now are from all -communion with our fellow-creatures—alone, defenseless, unprotected, and -at your mercy as I seem—you dare not harm me, and I know and feel it! -You are not mad or intoxicated; therefore, you will not. You are not of -a passionate, impetuous nature, therefore you will not. You are a -cold-blooded, clear-headed, calculating, forecasting schemer—therefore -you will not dare to do me an injury that will end in ruin to yourself. -You are a gentleman by birth, education, and position. You are a -gentleman—however undeserving of the name—and you will not exchange the -title for that of—felon! I am under the protection of God and of the -laws! Lay but your hand in insult on me, and by the Heaven that watches -over us, as soon as I reach the mainland, cost what it may to my woman’s -heart, for the sake of sacred right will I denounce you! Murder me—sink -my body in the sea!—the crime would still be traced to yourself. We were -known to have been left here alone.” - -“Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! We were known to be left here -alone together! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! By none but the negro, and a negro’s -evidence is not received in any court of law! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!” he -laughed, in fiendish triumph. “I have allowed you to spring from my -hands, and I have listened to your talking, only to make game of you. -Only as a cat lets a mouse run before finally seizing it. But this has -lasted long enough!” he exclaimed, ferociously springing toward her, -seizing and hurling her from the rock. - -Summoning all her great strength the intrepid girl, with a mighty -effort, threw him from her, and before he could spring upon his prey -again the fragment of rock near them rolled down the slope to the -beach—a sudden light glared upon the scene, and a tall woman, wildly -clad, and waving a torch above her head, emerged, and stood before them. -The sudden irruption of this human being from the bosom of the earth did -not astonish Garnet as did the look of Lionel Hardcastle. Struck pale as -death, and statue-still, but for the universal tremor that shook his -frame, he stood and gazed with stony eyes and chattering teeth upon the -apparition. At last: - -“Agnes!” he gasped, shaking as with an ague fit. - -“Yes, pirate!—Agnes!” said the woman, approaching him slowly, holding -the torch above her head; then stooping, fixing her eyes intently upon -him, and thus creeping toward him, as a lioness preparing for a couch -and spring. She paused before him, and still glaring on his face, said -very slowly: “So, pirate! we meet again, at last! We meet upon the spot -of that outrage which first separated me from home and country, friends -and kindred, holiness and heaven! We meet upon this spot that you would -again desecrate with crime! We meet in an hour of retribution! For this -have I lived! For now that at last I see my mortal foe, never will I -lose sight of you again until I have put you in the hands of justice! -Never will I cease to pursue you, until I hunt you to the scaffold! -Never can I die, until I see you dead before me by the death of a -felon!” - -While she spoke with such slow tones of settled hatred and determined -vengeance he held his hand in his bosom. As she ceased speaking: - -“False prophetess! You die now!” he thundered, leveling the pistol he -held at her head. - -She sprang forward, seized his arm, turning the weapon aside. They -struggled violently for a moment, and then the pistol was discharged, -and Lionel Hardcastle fell, shot through the chest. - -Frozen with horror Garnet Seabright drew near, and stooped over the -fallen man. Agnes also bent over her prostrate foe for a moment, then -turning to Garnet, and throwing her wild hair back, she said: - -“I did not kill him, madam, though if I had ’twould have been but just.” - -The eyes of the dying man flared open once, and fixed upon the face of -Garnet. Raising himself upon his elbow, he said, in low and broken -tones: - -“Forgive me, Garnet—and—believe this!—whatever were the hidden sins of -my youth—neither piracy nor bloodshed were among them! I was a—prisoner -among them! Ship—wreck—plank—waves—picked up—oh, God, forgive me!” His -head fell back—he rolled over in a mortal struggle, and then grew still -in death. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXVII. - THE BEEHIVE. - - A cottage where domestic love - And truth breathe simple kindness to the heart, - Where white-armed children twine the neck of age, - Where hospitable cares light up the hearth, - Cheering the lonely traveler on his way. - _—Gilman._ - - -“The Beehive” was the name that had been given by Elsie to her first -backwoods home, and afterward transferred by her to the substantial home -of hewn rock that had replaced the log cabin. - -It is late in the afternoon of a blustering March day that I shall again -introduce you into the household of Dr. Hardcastle. And it is a large -and interesting family for which the doctor is now responsible. - -First, there is himself, as glorious a type of manhood as ever stood in -the exposed outer circle of existence, interposing his own body between -the storms and cares of life and the cowering forms of women and -children. - -Then, there was his pupil, Hugh Hutton— - - “As tall, as sinewy, and as strong - As earth’s first kings—the Argo’s gallant sailors; - Heroes in history, and gods in song,” - -and bearing, in that genial dignity of form, countenance, and manner -which was the natural expression of great conscious power and goodness, -a general resemblance to his master. - -There was Mrs. Garnet, in her simple widow’s dress of black silk, with -surplice bosom, inside handkerchief, and little lace cap—somewhat jaded, -yet with her graceful form, fair complexion, delicate features, and -pensive thoughtfulness of expression, presenting a pleasing image of the -“intellectual system of beauty.” In charming contrast to her was her -daughter, Mrs. Hardcastle, in the full bloom of perfectly developed -vital beauty, revealing that marriage and maternity had been to her -healthful, sanguine, and joyous organization, what they should be to all -women, a continuous accession of new life, health, and happiness. - -She had made no mistake in the calculation of her future. Active, -bustling, often very laborious her lot had been indeed, but suited to -her strong and cheerful nature. Her life had been guided, besides, by -almost unerring intelligence, sustained by undying love, and cheered by -unfailing hope. Anxieties had come, indeed, but these had not been -suffered to grow into corroding cares. Sorrow had visited them, too, but -this had not been permitted to crush them with despair, or even bow them -long in despondency. In the second year of their married life the Angel -of Death had entered their dwelling and lifted their only child from its -mother’s bosom. Yes, the firstling of their little flock—the first-born -of their youthful love, the strong and beautiful child, so full of -glorious promise, whose health and life seemed so secure, who was, -besides, so watched and tended—that idolized child was borne away from -their arms, and the hearts of the parents long writhed in the anguish of -bereavement before they could understand and receive the divine message -in the infant’s little life and death. They had been so independent, so -confiding, so happy in their earthly lot, so absorbed in their worldly -plans, that they might never even have lifted their eyes to Heaven but -for gazing after the soaring wing of their cherub; might never have -lifted their hearts to Heaven, but for yearning after the ascended and -glorified child; for “where the treasure is, there will the heart be -also.” - -They had now been married eleven years, and six other children claimed -their love and care; six children—boys and girls—with their ages ranging -from one year old to nine. They were not rich. They owned the homestead, -farm, and improvements upon the latter, but beyond this they did not -possess a thousand dollars. Dr. Hardcastle’s practice was very -extensive, and very profitable to—his patients; not very enriching to -himself. With a large and growing family, with a strong and sympathetic -nature, generous heart, and open hand and purse, how could Magnus -Hardcastle grow rich? Indeed he must have been much poorer than he was -but for the efficient aid of his “woman-kind.” - -Mrs. Garnet had gradually assumed to herself the responsibility of the -needlework of the family. - -Elsie did all the housework. - -Hugh Hutton constituted himself hewer of wood and drawer of water, -stock-driver and feeder, gardener, assistant nurse and tutor, doctor’s -boy, big brother, and helper-in-general to the establishment. - -And he found time, besides, for the systematic and assiduous study of -medicine, so that within the last year he had been dubbed by the -neighbors the young doctor of the professional firm. - -For the last two years Hugh had spent the winters in an Eastern city, -attending lectures at the Medical College. Upon these occasions he -usually left home upon the 1st of December and returned upon the 1st of -March. This was the last winter of his purposed migrations East, and his -friends at home were expecting his return with unusual impatience. The -1st of March had come, however, and he had not yet arrived. A letter -from him had informed his friends that he remained in the city for the -purpose of presenting himself before the medical board of examination as -a candidate for a diploma. - -The family were now in daily expectation either of his arrival or of -another letter. It was upon the evening of the 7th of March, then, that -the commodious family room of the house was occupied by Mrs. Garnet and -six children of Elsie’s. This room was well warmed and lighted by a -large fire of pine logs in the chimney, and a couple of lighted candles -upon the mantelpiece. The supper-table was set, and supper was ready to -be served as soon as the doctor should get in from his rounds. It had -not long to wait; for soon Dr. Hardcastle was seen to ride into the -yard, dismount, and take off his saddle-bags and booted spurs, and, -great coated as he was, came into the house. As soon as he set foot -within the room the children swarmed upon him like bees upon a sunflower -stalk, or the Lilliputians upon Gulliver; and he lifted and kissed them -one by one, but looking around impatiently the while for one he loved -even more than all these little ones—to wit, the mother. At last: - -“Where is Elsie, Mrs. Garnet?” he asked. - -“Gone again; I do wish, Magnus, you would prevent her. She makes herself -a slave to these poor neighbors of hers. I do really think that she has -family cares and toils enough; and that when she has performed her -household duties as well as she always does, she might consider herself -discharged from other social obligations. I do wish you would talk to -her very seriously about it. Now to-day she has had a very fatiguing -time indeed; she was ironing all the forenoon, and this afternoon -baking. And yet this evening, as soon as she had got supper and set the -table, she placed the children all in my care, and against my advice, -high as the wind is, and deep as the snow is drifted, she took a basket -and filled it with provisions, and started to carry it to those poor -Millers on the mountain. Indeed, I wish, Magnus, you would tell her not -to do it.” - -“Me tell Elsie to do or not to do! Whew! Do you know, my dear -lady-mother, what is the highest, the very highest boon of God to man? -Free will—the blessed liberty of going even to the old Nick if they -please. There are those so fond of ‘freedom,’ that they would prefer -going to perdition by the exercise of their free will to being -arbitrarily predestined to heaven!” - -“Perhaps so; but Elsie is not one of those, Dr. Hardcastle. If you were -but to hint to your wife that you disapprove and dislike her thus -exposing herself, she would stop it at once; she would think it her duty -to do so.” - -“I know it; and therefore I have to be more chary in meddling with her -docile spirit than if she had the self-will and temper of Xantippe. But, -ah! do you think it does not make my heart ache to see her expose -herself to wind and snow, and to think that I have not yet provided a -carriage for her, and to see her work from early morning till night, -doing all the housework of the family, and think that I have not yet got -a servant for her? And now having brought her to all this, shall I -fetter her will? No, by my soul!” said Dr. Hardcastle, with strong -emotion. - -Mrs. Garnet arose and went to his side, and stood there, and drew his -arm over her shoulder caressingly, as she said: - -“Magnus, you have made Elsie completely, divinely happy; I mean, as a -mortal woman can be! No man can do more for his wife, very few can do so -much. As for her privations and toils, it is I, only I, whose weakness -caused all that! It was I who disinherited her! I!” - -“Hush! hush! a truce to self-criminations! Elsie is the only consistent, -rational, equable one in the family, now Hugh is gone. And here she -comes, the darling! and without her cloak, as I live. Come, Mrs. Garnet, -we will both scold her for that. Let’s open upon her as soon as she gets -in.” - -He kissed Alice’s hand and hastened to meet his wife. - -Here she came, cold as the weather was, actually without her cloak. - -He opened the door quickly, and received her in his arms, pressing her -cold hands under his chin, to his bosom, to warm them, and drawing her -on toward the fire. - -“Now where have you been, facing the wind, and plunging through the -snowdrifts?” - -“I have been on the mountain,” said Elsie, untying her bonnet, and -giving it to one child, and throwing her shawl upon the arms of another. -“I have been on the mountain to see those poor Millers. Their little -girl, almost barefooted, came over here this afternoon for me to go to -her mother, who is confined. I knew they were suffering, and so I filled -the basket and went home with the little one.” - -“But your cloak, dear! What in the world have you done with your cloak?” - -“Oh! I laid it over Susan Miller and her babe, until I could come home, -and send them a blanket. Oh, now don’t look so shocked! I am warmly -clothed without the cloak; besides, the distance was short, and I ran -along fast. Nonsense, now! How is it that children are half their time -out running and romping in the cold, without being wrapped up, and only -grow more robust by the exposure?” said Elsie, laughing, as she arose, -pushed her curls back from her blooming face, and went and lifted her -crowing babe from the cradle. - -Then she sat down and nursed it, while Mrs. Garnet, assisted by the -eldest child, a little girl of nine years old, began to arrange the -supper upon the table. - -As Elsie sat and nursed the child, her blooming, joyous face softened -into sadness, tears gathered in her eyes, and she sighed deeply, bowing -her head over the babe. Magnus was watching her. He was accustomed to -her occasional moods of sorrowful tenderness, which, he said, compared -with her usual bright, cheerful temper as a general, steaming thaw -contrasts with a fine, clear, frosty morning. He stooped over the back -of her chair, and, bending his head close to hers, asked: - -“Of what are you thinking so sadly, Elsie?” - -A slight flush warmed her cheek, and she replied, meekly, without -raising her head: - -“An unworthy thought, dearest; at least, ungrateful and presumptuous. I -was thinking of that poor family, of the little good that I was able to -do them, and the great pleasure it gave me to do even that. I will -confess to you all the egotism of my thought—then I thought how generous -I really was by nature, and how I should delight in doing a great deal -of good, if I had the means; and then an emotion of discontent, and a -disposition to murmur, came upon me, and I thought what a pity it was -that I, so really liberal by nature, should be compelled to repress so -many generous impulses—that I should not have a fortune to spend—and I -sighed from self-pity. I am ashamed that such ungrateful emotions should -have disturbed my heart, and I speak of them now with shame, for now I -feel how presumptuous they really were; for why, indeed, should I have a -fortune, or anything else that we have not gained by our own toil? I, -who am already so happy in the wealth of family affections, Magnus.” - -“Dear Elsie, if the material and temporal good of mankind were first to -be thought of, doubtless then it were better that wealth should be in -the hands of the benevolent and philanthropic. But such is not the case. -It is the spiritual and eternal welfare both of the individual and of -the race that is provided for; and hence each individual is placed in -circumstances, not where he can do the most seeming good, but where he -can best develop his moral and spiritual nature. Thus, you have -benevolence. You do not need to have that virtue cultivated by the -contrast of your own wealth with another’s want, and by the exercise of -almsgiving; hence, you are not schooled in prosperity and the duty of -beneficence. But, Elsie, as you are not perfect, perhaps there are other -virtues you lack, and which can be developed only in poverty. But I did -not mean to preach you a little sermon, darling. And now, in requital of -prosing, I will tell you two pieces of good news—first, that as this is -the last year in which we shall be put to any expense for Hugh’s college -course of lectures, we shall have a hundred or so dollars over our -annual expenditures; half of this sum you shall disburse in judicious -alms. That is my first piece of glad tidings, and my second is like unto -it—Hugh himself will be home to-night.” - -“Hugh home to-night? Oh, you don’t say so!” - -“Yes; this afternoon, in post office, I got a letter that arrived -yesterday. And this letter announces the arrival of Hugh this very -evening.” - -“Hugh coming home this evening? Oh, I am so glad! Children, children, -did you hear? Brother Hugh is coming home this evening.” - -“Brother Hugh is come!” said a pleasant voice, as the door opened, and -Hugh Hutton stood among them. - -All arose, and Magnus and Elsie hastened to meet him. - -“Dear friends,” he said, shaking hands right and left, “I could not -resist the desire I felt to go to the window and look in upon you while -you were all at your quiet evening occupations. I have been watching you -for the last two minutes.” - -“You rogue! But come to the fire, come to the fire. Supper is just -ready,” said Dr. Hardcastle, while Hugh threw off his great-coat, and -laid it aside with his hat. “Oh, Hugh, we are so glad to see you! Had -you a pleasant journey? What time did you get to the village? You have -traveled day and night, I am afraid? And then you have walked from the -village here?” - -“Yes; I couldn’t have got a horse for two or three hours; and I really -couldn’t wait, I was so eager to get home.” - -“Dear Hugh, you must be so tired and hungry! Here, sit down in this -chair near the fire,” said Elsie, pushing a chair forward with one hand, -while she held the child with the other arm. - -Hugh threw himself into the chair, and mechanically stretched out his -arms and took the crowing, laughing infant from its mother, and set it -upon his knee, playing with it all the time he talked to others. - -“Oh, have you got your diploma, Hugh? Let’s see the document with our -own eyes,” said Dr. Hardcastle, coming forward. - -“Yes; here it is,” said Hugh, rooting in his pocket with one hand, while -he hugged the baby up with the other. “Here it is. I took it out of my -trunk to bring along as a sort of credential that your years of kindness -have not been thrown away upon me, my best friend;” and Hugh produced -the parchment, and laid it on the table. - -“Good! good! Here it is, Elsie! Come, look! Here is Dr. Hutton’s warrant -to kill and cure, secundum artem. Here is the diploma. Here is the prize -for which he has toiled so hard—the good of his race.” - -“No; not the good, but the great starting place. Is it not so, Hugh?” -said Elsie, coming forward. - -“Yes, true, the starting point. She is worthier than I. The starting -point, my boy. And now for a brilliant career. Aim high, Hugh. He who -aims at the sun may not bring it down, but his arrow will fly highest. -You must be more successful than I have been, Hugh. I am a useful—if you -please—an extensively useful member of my profession, and of society. -You must be a distinguished honor to the faculty and the world. Oh! I -have a grand ambition for you, Hugh, my son!” - -“My dear friend! my best friend! all that I am and have I owe to you, to -your patient, disinterested teaching of many years. Oh, yes! and all -that I may become or may possess I shall still owe to you! Ah, Dr. -Hardcastle! I speak of a debt! I shall never be able to pay the debt I -owe to you.” - -“Why, Hugh!” replied Dr. Hardcastle, throwing his arm affectionately -over the shoulder of his young friend, and speaking in a voice as -harmonious and gentle as a woman’s. “Why, Hugh! never let me hear -another word of owing anything but brotherly love to me. You who have -been my second self in all my labors and professional cares; a son to -me, except that you have given me no anxiety, but much ease. My brother, -companion, confidant! Why, whatever could I have done without you, Hugh? -What could any of us have done without you? Mrs. Garnet! how could you -have got along without your son, Hugh? Elsie! how could you have managed -to conduct your domestic and business affairs without Hugh? Children! -little ones, I say! what would you take for ‘big brother’?” - -The last-named little shareholders in the Hugh Hutton property swarmed -around him, some with gentle, some with vociferous demonstrations of -affection. And their mother laid her hands affectionately on his -shoulders, and, looking up in his face, said: - -“Dear Hugh! No! no one could possibly have supplied your place to us, -since we have known you. You have been, indeed, like a younger brother, -or an elder son of the family, only that, as the doctor says, instead of -giving us trouble, you have relieved us of it. Oh, Hugh! our dear boy! -only be half as eminent as we hope you will be, and we shall be so proud -and happy in your success!” - -“Come, come, Elsie, a truce to sentiment! Supper waits, and a man who -has staged night and day for a week, and walked three miles to-night, -must have a good appetite for his supper, and a strong disposition to -his bed. Come; give the babe to his sister, there, and draw your chair -up. The children have been suffered to sit up in honor of your arrival, -Hugh. They are usually in bed at this hour. Come,” said Dr. Hardcastle, -seating himself at the table, when all the others were seated, “let’s -see! What have we here to tempt a traveler’s appetite? Mocha coffee—some -of that which you sent us by the wagon, Hugh—and cream and butter, such -as Elsie only can make. Here are some buckwheat cakes; just try one. Our -buckwheat has surpassed itself this year. There, I don’t think you ever -met with buckwheat cake like that in the city. Indeed, I don’t think -people east of the mountains know what good buckwheat really is. Take -honey with your cake. There’s honey for you. The comb clear and clean -like amber and frost. Our bees have distinguished themselves this -season. There are venison steaks before you. Use the currant jelly with -them, Hugh, it is better than the grape. That is the finest venison that -I have seen this winter. Ah, Hugh, you should have been with me when I -brought that stag down—shot him on the Bushy Ridge. Great fellow!—eight -antlers—five inches of fat in the brisket!—weighing—how much did he -weigh, Elsie? No matter. You are laughing, Hugh. What at, sir, pray?” - -“At you, and myself, and stag-hunting, and deerstalking, and -story-tellings. The truth is, I never hear of stags and antlers, but I -think of a fine, bragging tale I was cut short in while telling to my -fellow-students at a little farewell supper given by them to me when I -was coming away. I was trying to persuade some of them to come out here, -and boasting of the country. I was launched into the midst of a -grandiloquent eulogium. ‘Glorious country, sir!’ said I, ‘glorious -country! sublime mountains, piercing the clouds! mag-nif-i-cent forests -stretching five hundred miles westward! splendid trees, sir, standing -but two feet apart, their trunks measuring three yards in circumference! -their luxurious branches inextricably intertwined! and game, sir! superb -deer, with antlers six feet apart, bounding through those forests——’ -‘Where the trees grow but two feet apart, and their branches are -inextricably entwined, how the very deuce do they manage to get through -them, Hutton?’ asked my friend, bringing my magniloquence to a sudden -stand. I never was so disconcerted in my life. I knew I had been telling -the truth, yet had made it sound like a fiction. At last I answered, ‘By -Dian, sir, that is their business, not mine, nor yours!’” - -“Ha, ha, ha! Yes, pretty good! Yet, Hugh, you are not romancing. There -are parts of the forest where the great trees grow in such thickets as -you have described; but they are as impassable to the deer as to us, of -course; and then there is superb game in the forest, which may never -approach within miles of such thickets. Take another cup of coffee?” - -“No, no, not any more,” said Hugh, pushing up his plate and cup. - -Mrs. Hardcastle gave the signal, and they arose from the table. The -children had also finished their milk and bread, and their mother took -them upstairs to be put to bed, while Mrs. Garnet washed up the tea -things and Dr. Hardcastle replenished the fire. - -When the table was cleared away, and Elsie had returned, and they were -all gathered around the evening fireside, deeply engaged in telling and -in hearing all that had happened to each during the winter’s separation, -Hugh suddenly clapped his hand to his pocket, with a “Lord bless my -soul!” - -“What’s the matter?” - -“Oh, was ever such absence of mind!” - -“Never in the world, of course. Only what’s it about?” laughed Dr. -Hardcastle. - -“Why, a letter—a letter that came in the same stage with myself—a letter -from Huttontown, for you. I took it out of the office, and—indeed, I -hope I have not lost it,” continued Hugh, fumbling first in one pocket -and then in another. “Oh, here it is,” he exclaimed, producing the -letter, and handing it to the doctor. - -“The superscription is in a strange hand, to begin with—a lady’s hand. -Whom can it be from?” said Dr. Hardcastle, breaking the seal. “Dated -‘Mount Calm.’” - -“Mount Calm!” exclaimed all three of his hearers, in a breath. - -“Yes, dated ‘Mount Calm,’ and signed ‘Garnet Seabright.’” - -“Garnet Seabright?” exclaimed Mrs. Garnet, in a tone of surprise and -displeasure. - -“My little sister Nettie,” said Hugh, bending forward with interest. - -“Can you read it aloud, doctor?” inquired Elsie, in a low voice. - -“Yes, dear,” replied Dr. Hardcastle, stooping to pick up a second -letter, that had fallen out of the first, and retaining the one in his -hand while he read the other, as follows: - - “MOUNT CALM, March 1, 18—. - - “DR. HARDCASTLE. - - “DEAR SIR: Will you do me the favor of transmitting the inclosed - letter to Dr. Hugh Hutton, of whose address I am entirely ignorant? - Pray, pardon me for urging your prompt attention to my request, as its - subject is of the utmost importance to Dr. Hutton, and requires his - instant action. - - “Very respectfully, - “GARNET SEABRIGHT.” - -“Here, Hugh, after all, the matter concerned only you. Here is your -letter,” said Dr. Hardcastle, handing over the inclosed epistle to Hugh, -who took it with a look of amazed interest, tore it open, and read it in -silence. Suddenly he sprung up, overturning the chair, and dropping the -letter, as he exclaimed vehemently: - -“Your horse! Your horse, doctor! Can I have your horse to-night?” - -“‘A horse! A horse! my kingdom for a horse!’ Why, what the deuce is the -matter now? Who’s killed? Who’s wounded?” - -“Oh, doctor, no jesting. This is serious—this is terrible. -Only—quick!—can I have your horse?” - -“Certainly, certainly, Hugh. But tell me, in one word, what’s the -matter?” - -“My mother, my long-lost mother, is found, and at Mount Calm, but ill -and dying, I fear. There! read Nettie’s letter, while I saddle the -horse. I must ride at once to the village—the mail stage starts from -there at ten o’clock. I must go in it,” said Hugh, hastening out. - -Mrs. Garnet and Elsie gathered around Dr. Hardcastle, while he read the -following letter: - - “MOUNT CALM, March 1, 18—. - - “DEAREST HUGH: Wherever you are, and whatever may be your engagements, - drop them at once, and hasten to Mount Calm. Your long-lost mother is - found—she is here with me, but very, very ill of brain fever. Hasten. - There are other things, too, dear Hugh, of which I cannot write now, - but of which you will hear when you come. I write in haste and - agitation, but, indeed, I am, as much as ever, - - “Your affectionate sister, - “NETTIE.” - -“Strange! most strange!” said Mrs. Garnet. - -“And most unsatisfactory,” observed Elsie. - -“We shall know no more, however, until Hugh writes us from Mount Calm. -Here he comes! How quick he has been!” said the doctor, going to meet -Hugh as he entered. - -“You know, Hugh, how much I feel with you about this. Let me know now if -in any way I can be of service to you.” - -“Oh, my friend, I know all your goodness. But do you know how much my -secret heart has ever been filled with the desire of finding my mother? -I could never hope to find her, but still, from my boyhood, the thought -of seeing her has haunted me like the dream of an impossible good; and -now she is found, but——” - -Hugh’s voice broke down, and he covered his face with his hands. - -“Hope for the best, Hugh. You used to be hopeful. And, oh, Hugh, be sure -that we feel your trouble as if it were our own. It is our own,” said -Elsie, laying her hand gently upon him. - -“My horse is ready. I only run in to say good-by; good-by, dear friends. -Good-by, Mrs. Garnet—pray that I may not be too late! Good-by, Mrs. -Hardcastle—give my love to the dear children when they ask for me -to-morrow. Good-by, Dr. Hardcastle, my best friend. I will write to you -from Mount Calm,” said Hugh, shaking and squeezing hands right and left, -and then preparing to hasten out. - -“Aint you going to take your great-coat?” asked the doctor, holding it -up. - -“Yes, yes; I had forgotten it. I haven’t time to put it on. I can throw -it upon the horse,” exclaimed Hugh, hurriedly throwing the garment over -his arm. “Once more, good-by to all.” - -“If I had a second horse, or had time to borrow one, I would go with -you, Hugh,” said Dr. Hardcastle, attending him from the house. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXVIII. - HUGH AND GARNET. - - When friends do meet in sorrow’s hour - ’Tis like a sun-glimpse through a shower, - A watery ray, an instant seen, - The darkly closing clouds between. - _—Scott._ - - -The full moon was shining broadly and brightly over the snow-clad hills -and plains around Mount Calm, when Hugh Hutton rode up to the front -entrance of the mansion in a full gallop. He threw himself from his -horse, flung the reins to a servant in attendance, ran up the marble -stairs, and, without stopping to ring, pushed at once into the house. - -A large hanging-lamp lighted up the hall, and its rays fell upon the -form of a majestic and beautiful girl, whose presence immediately -arrested the impetuous hurry of the visitor. Pausing, he bowed with -deference, saying: - -“Miss Seabright?” - -He had always thought of her as Nettie; until he saw her he purposed to -have called her Nettie; but this was not to be thought of now, in the -presence of this imperial-looking girl, with whom he would no more have -ventured upon familiarity than he would have dared to make free with an -empress. She, too, had thought of her childhood’s companion as plain -Hugh, had addressed him as dear Hugh in her letter; but now, when she -saw before her this stately and reserved man, she blushed to think of -it. And when, with deferential suavity, he repeated his question: - -“I presume—Miss Seabright?” - -She answered: “Yes, Dr. Hutton;” and added, with mournful gentleness, -“Under happier circumstances I should say that I am very glad to see -you, sir; but now I can only tell you truly that you are very, very -welcome to Mount Calm.” And she offered him her hand. - -“My mother? Miss Seabright! How is my mother?” he inquired, alarmed at -the sorrowful manner of his young hostess. - -“Come into the parlor, Dr. Hutton; there is a fire there, and you are -chilled,” said Garnet, sadly evading the question, and leading the way. - -“My mother?” again inquired the guest, when she had conducted him into -the drawing room. - -“Sit down, pray, sit down; you look so weary—here, near the fire,” said -his hostess, drawing a chair to the hearth. He dropped into the seat—his -prophetic heart already prepared for the words she was about to utter. - -“Your mother, Dr. Hutton, is above all pain and grief now.” - -“Dead! dead!” exclaimed Hugh, dropping his head upon his open hands. - -Garnet bent over the side of his chair, and laid her hand gently on his -shoulder, and bowed her head until tears fell upon his hands, but said -nothing. - -At last: “How long since?” he asked, raising his head. - -She seated herself by his side, and with her hand gently laid upon his, -she replied: - -“Your mother was ill but three days, Dr. Hutton. Upon the first day I -wrote to you—upon the third she passed away. It is four days since, so -that, you see, you could not have reached here, even by the utmost -speed; and so you have nothing to blame yourself for.” - -“Dead! really dead! dead four days!” he exclaimed, burying his face in -his hands. - -“No, not dead—living in heaven! You know that—try to feel it also,” she -said tenderly. - -He did not reply, nor did he speak again for some time, nor did she -break upon the sacred silence of his grief by any ill-judged attempt at -consolation. - -At last he broke forth in bitter lamentation. - -“Oh, that she had but lived! Oh, that my poor mother had but lived! That -her son might have atoned in the last half of her life for the sorrows -of her youth! Oh, that my mother had but lived!” - -“Ah! do not mourn so; believe me, it is far better as it is. There are -some lives so wronged, so broken, that nothing but death can set them -right. Such a life was hers. There are some sorrows so deep that nothing -but heaven can cure them. Such sorrows were hers. Oh! believe me, by all -the loving-kindness of the Father, it is better as it is,” said Garnet, -kindly pressing the hand she held. - -“If I could have seen her but once! Oh, Miss Seabright! I thought but -little about her in my boyhood, but as I grew to man’s estate the one -secret, cherished hope of my heart was to find my mother—to devote my -life to her. Oh, that I could have found her; oh, that I could have -reached here in time to have seen her living face but once, so as to -have known and remembered it.” - -“Again I say it is better as it is. The tender mercy of God spared you -the trial. Would you have carried away in your heart the picture of a -countenance transiently distorted by delirium, as the only impression of -your mother’s face? Oh, no! Think of her only as she has been described -to you in her youthful beauty, or think of her as she is now, in her -immortal beauty. She has always been shrined in your heart as a -beautiful and sacred memory and hope. Let it be so still, and let the -hope be immortal.” - -She ceased speaking, and both relapsed into silence, that lasted until -the door opened and a servant entered, bringing coffee and other -refreshments upon a waiter. - -“Wheel the table forward here, and set the waiter upon it, and then you -may go, Pompey,” said Miss Seabright, in a low voice. - -When they were alone together again Miss Seabright poured out a cup of -coffee, and offered it to her guest. He thanked her, but declined it, -and dropped his head again upon his hands, and fell into silence and -despondency. - -Miss Seabright put the cup of coffee down and came and sat by his side, -and laid her hand upon him again, and said softly: - -“I feel how you suffer, Dr. Hutton; and I can imagine that when we have -lost a dear friend or dear relative, especially a parent, we should -think it almost a sin to take comfort in any way, and selfishness even -to refresh the wasted, wearied frame with needful food and sleep. It is -so natural to feel so. Fasting and vigil are first compelled by anxiety -and grief, and afterward, when all is over, and when nature has -reasserted her claims, and made us feel the need of food and rest—still -often the heart’s fond superstition will not yield, and fasting and -vigil are offered as a tribute to the memory of the lost. It is so -natural—but so wrong, Dr. Hutton—the rent garments, and the torn hair, -and the ashes sprinkled on the head, and the inordinate worship of -grief, belong to pagan bereavement, which is ‘without hope, and without -God’—not to Christian sorrow, which should be calmed by resignation and -cheered by faith. My friend, you are very weary and depressed—you need -refreshment. Come, Hugh, lift up your head; take this coffee from my -hand—Nettie’s hand.” - -As she stooped over him, offering the cup, the ends of her soft ringlets -touched his brow, and her breath fanned his cheek. He raised his head, -received the refreshment, and gratefully pressed the gentle hand that -gave it. When he had drained the cup and set it down, he said: - -“Miss Seabright, how much I thank you for your sympathy and kindness -none can know but God. Dear and gentle comforter, tell me, now, the -facts of this sad discovery. When did my mother return, and under what -circumstances?” - -“Had you not better defer hearing the story for the present, Dr. Hutton? -You look so tired. Retire early, and sleep well to-night, and to-morrow -morning I will tell you everything you desire to know.” - -“Miss Seabright, I have not slept since I received your letter telling -me of my mother’s advent and illness. I shall never be able to sleep -until I have heard all you have to tell me of that mother’s history and -sorrows. But, Miss Seabright, I beg your pardon—you are so good, that -your very goodness has made me selfish, and forgetful of the trouble I -may give you. You are doubtless fatigued, and should not be longer -harassed by the presence of an exacting egotist like me. If so, let me -bid you good-night,” said Dr. Hutton, rising. - -“Oh, no; sit down; besides, I cannot let you go to-night. You are to -remain with us, certainly, to-night—and as many more days and nights as -your convenience will permit. Sit down; I am not the least wearied, and -if, indeed, you think you will rest better after having heard the story -I have to tell you, why, of course, I will willingly tell it. Yes, and -upon second thought, I feel that it is better you should hear it -to-night. To-night let the grave close in faith over the sad past. -To-morrow you will arise with new hope for the future.” - -They both resumed their seats. And Miss Seabright related to him the -story of the nightly light seen on Hutton’s Isle; her visit there, to -ascertain the cause; her guardian’s unexpected arrival; the sudden -apparition of Agnes; the encounter and the death of Lionel Hardcastle by -the accidental discharge of the pistol. Having reached this point of her -story, she went on to say: - -“At the first appearance of your mother I saw by her wild look and -frenzied manner that reason had fled. But instantly after the fall of -Lionel Hardcastle the sudden change, the quiet manner with which she -exculpated herself from the suspicion of blood-guiltiness deceived me so -that I mistook for sanity that mood which was only the reaction of -frenzy—or, at best, a lucid interval of madness. As soon as I had -ascertained the victim to be quite dead, and had collected my thoughts -for action, I determined to return to the mainland and rouse the -magistrate, Judge Wylie. The unhappy woman was sitting upon the ground, -with her head bowed upon her hands, and her wild hair streaming all -around her, like a veil. I spoke to her, and told her my purpose, and -asked her to accompany me. She gave me no reply. I spent a long time in -trying to persuade her to get up and go with me—but I could not get a -word or gesture from her. I made no more impression on her than if she -had been a statue. Finally I was obliged to leave her for the purpose of -procuring assistance. I went down to the beach, got into the skiff, took -the paddle, and rowed swiftly to the landing at Point Pleasant. I found -all the family there still up, owing to the decease of old Mrs. Wylie, -who had just expired. Judge Wylie, with his usual promptitude, gave me -all the help that was needful. I returned with the party to Hutton Isle, -where we found the unfortunate woman in the same posture in which we had -left her. I spoke to her again, and with no more success than before. -Finding it impossible to make any impression upon her, I requested Mr. -Ulysses Roebuck, who had command of the party, to lift her up gently and -convey her to the boat. He attempted to do so, but on being raised she -broke into sudden frenzy. Dr. Hutton, spare me and yourself the details -of this illness—it is over now. It is sufficient to say that she was -brought hither, that she had the best medical attendance and the best -nursing that could be procured. She recovered her reason about an hour -before her death, and asked to see a clergyman. Mr. Wilson, the -Methodist preacher, attended her. Of the circumstances of her forcible -abduction, and the misfortunes that ensued to her, she refused to make -any revelations, saying that the dying should not drop a fire-brand into -the circle they were leaving. When told that she had a son, she blessed -you, and left this message for you, that ‘Forgiveness is the only remedy -for some wrongs’; and of herself she said that ‘Death was the only -rectifier of some lives.’ She died at set of sun—calmly and hopefully. -At some future day I will show you where they have laid her. As for the -unhappy man who met his death so suddenly—the coroner’s jury sat upon -his case before his remains were permitted to be removed from the Isle. -The body was then conveyed to Hemlock Hollow for burial. Old Mr. -Hardcastle has not been able to leave his bed since the shock of his -son’s sudden death threw him upon it. It is supposed that he cannot -recover.” This Miss Seabright added with the purpose of partially -diverting the mind of her guest from dwelling too intently upon the -circumstances of his mother’s death. - -At the close of her recital Dr. Hutton remained silent for a few -minutes, and then, taking and pressing her hand, he thanked her, with -much emotion, for the care she had bestowed upon his mother. - -Miss Seabright rang for night-lamps, and when they were brought directed -the servant to attend Dr. Hutton’s leisure, and when he felt inclined to -retire to show him to his chamber. Then bidding her guest good-night, -she left the room. - -The next morning Dr. Hutton came down very early and found Miss -Seabright already in the drawing room. She advanced to meet him, holding -out her hand. After the usual courteous inquiries about health, etc., -Dr. Hutton said: - -“Miss Seabright, I scarcely know how to pardon myself for my -forgetfulness of an aged and worthy relative last evening; but pray tell -me now, how is my old aunt?” - -“Miss Joe! oh, very well, indeed. The only mark of infirmity I can -perceive in her is her wish to go to bed earlier now than heretofore. -She had retired before you arrived last night, and I would not have her -disturbed. She is in the breakfast room superintending breakfast. She -knows that you are here, but does not know that you have risen. Shall I -send for her?” - -“If you please, Miss Seabright. I have not seen my aunt for two years. I -have generally made it a point to come and see her every year or two -since I first left her, and should have visited her this spring even, -had not your letter summoned me now. Ah! here she comes.” - -Miss Joe came in smiling and weeping, and drying her eyes, and wiping -her spectacles with her check apron, and as soon as she saw her nephew -she ran to him and fell in his arms, laughing and crying and talking all -at once, and not regaining self-possession until she became alarmed for -the propriety of her cap and kerchief, when she extricated herself, -smoothing down her apron and exclaiming: - -“There, Hugh! There, Neffy! You’re not a baby now; don’t tumble my cap -and my handkerchief—there’s no sense in it;” though, dear old soul, the -fault lay all the while in her own fondling—not Hugh’s. “There, come to -breakfast now. It is all on the table waiting, and will get cold.” - -Dr. Hutton offered his arm to Miss Seabright, and they went in to -breakfast. - -After the meal was over Dr. Hutton made a motion to depart, but Miss Joe -vigorously opposed his purpose, supplicating him to remain at Mount Calm -for only a few days, if not longer. Miss Seabright joined her invitation -to the old lady’s entreaties, and Dr. Hutton finally consented to stay, -and retired to his room to write letters to his friends in the West. - -The few days of Dr. Hutton’s projected stay at Mount Calm grew into a -week, and the week was stretching into a month, and still Hugh Hutton -found it daily more difficult to tear himself away from Garnet -Seabright, for every time he would make an attempt to go she would say: - -“Not yet, Dr. Hutton. Not just yet! Stay till to-morrow;” and she would -think, “Why does he not speak? He loves me! He stays here at my bidding. -He must know that I love him, too! Why does he not speak? Will he go -away without an explanation? Can it be that my fortune and his own lack -of wealth hinders him? There are some men so proud that they will not -marry an heiress, lest it be said of them that they owe all they have to -their wives. But such a thought would never enter the head of my noble -Hugh! He would not elevate money on one side or the other into -importance enough to divide two hearts that love. Yet there is some -reason, and some good reason, why, when his eyes and tones and gestures -tell me every hour that he loves and esteems me, his words never do.” -And then sometimes when alone she would break forth impatiently, thus: -“Indeed, I won’t bear this much longer! No, that I won’t! I shan’t have -Hugh’s heart and my own tormented in this way to no good purpose! I will -make him tell me what it all means! Feeling very sure he loves me he -shall tell me what all this hesitation means.” - -Such would be her impatient resolve, but Garnet never could bring -herself to lead her lover on to any explanation, until one night when -Hugh for the dozenth time made known that he should leave Mount Calm the -next morning. It was after supper when Miss Joe retired, and they were -playing a game of backgammon together. Miss Seabright looked up from her -dice and said: - -“Well, Dr. Hutton, since you are going to-morrow, and I feel that we -cannot justly keep you from your business any longer, I wish, before you -depart, to ask your advice—I——” - -“Well, Miss Seabright?” - -“I—you know that my social position is a very singular one.” - -“It is, indeed, Miss Seabright.” - -“Responsible as I am for the faithful stewardship of a very large -fortune——” - -“It is indeed, in your case especially, a very heavy responsibility.” - -“Yes; and I have neither father nor brother to aid and counsel me.” - -“My poor counsel is at your command always, Miss Seabright.” - -“Thank you! It is in relation to the stewardship of Heaven’s goods -intrusted to me that I wish your advice. One should not live for -themselves alone, you know.” - -“Assuredly not,” said Dr. Hutton, giving her his close attention. - -Miss Seabright then related at length certain very judicious and -extensive schemes of benevolence, and desired his opinion upon them. - -“Your plans of usefulness and beneficence would be both wise and good, -reflecting honor on your head and heart, but that they lack the proper -foundation of all schemes of action.” - -“What is that?” - -“Justice.” - -“Justice?” - -“Justice!” - -“I do not understand you in the least!” - -“Miss Seabright, have you ever learned how it was that you came into -possession of all this estate?” - -“My dear godfather gave it to me.” - -“Do you know why he conveyed it to you in his life rather than bequeath -it to you at his death?” - -“No.” - -“Because, had he merely bequeathed it to you, his will would have been -set aside by our courts of justice in favor of his wife and child.” - -“Well, he did convey it to me! It is mine, at all events!” said Garnet, -with a flushed cheek and brow. - -“And yet he had a wife and daughter whom he beggared to enrich you. Was -this right?” - -“Right! Yes, it was right! He cut off a fugitive wife and a rebellious -daughter! Right! Yes, it was right! He did it, and he could have done no -wrong! Therefore it was right! Right! Yes, it was right! Who dares to -gainsay it?” she exclaimed, with her bosom heaving and her color rising. - -“Ah! Miss Seabright, it is an ungracious task indeed to unveil before -you the true character and hidden motives of your benefactor, of one -whom you have always looked upon with affection and respect——” - -“Stop!” exclaimed Garnet breathlessly, and pressing both hands upon her -bosom, as was her custom when trying to repress an eruption of anger. -“Stop! If you are about to breathe a syllable reflecting upon the memory -of my godfather—hold! I will not hear a breath, believe me! A word that -should wound his good name would transfix my own heart.” - -“For your dear sake, Miss Seabright, I will respect the name of General -Garnet; but for the dearer sake of justice I will plead the cause of his -widow and daughter.” - -“Of his widow and daughter! I am not—the Lord knows it!—ungrateful, -ungenerous, or cruel. I will largely dower them both.” - -“You will do no such thing, Miss Seabright! I trust there is too much -latent nobility in your character to permit you to add such ‘insult’ to -their ‘injury.’” - -“Then what is it that you wish me to do?” - -“What your conscience shall, after you understand the matter, dictate to -be done. He who gave you the Mount Calm estate had no just right to do -so. The whole of the estate came by his wife, and should descend to her -daughter. It was held by her family, the Chesters, for two hundred -years.” - -“Well, I think two centuries quite long enough for any one family to -hold any one landed estate. I think it quite time the property had -passed into other hands,” said Miss Seabright firmly. Then she added: -“Besides, my godfather must have had a legal right to the property, else -he could not have conveyed it to me.” - -“Miss Seabright, if you will permit me, for justice’s sake, I will tell -you the whole history of the transaction by which General Garnet became -legally possessed of the Mount Calm estate. It is right—it is necessary -that you should know it.” - -“Say on, sir.” - -Dr. Hutton began, and, softening as much as possible, for her sake, the -conduct of General Garnet, related the atrocious history of his life and -actions—first, how, aided by her father, he sundered the engagement -existing between Alice Chester and Milton Sinclair and forcibly married -the heart-broken child; their wedded life of tyranny on his side and -suffrance on hers; the separation of the mother and daughter; in after -years his betrothal of Elsie and Magnus; his subsequent attempt to break -their engagement from mercenary motives; his furious anger at their -marriage; the arts by which he gained from his wife a deed of the Mount -Calm estate; his revenge in disinheriting his daughter; the taunts and -cruelties by which he had nearly caused the death of his wife, and had -finally driven her from him; and lastly, the legal acumen with which, -for the sake of more surely impoverishing his wife and child, he had -conveyed the estate, instead of bequeathing it, knowing that the will, -upon account of its crying injustice, would have been set aside by the -courts in favor of the widow and daughter. - -“There, Miss Seabright, that is the way in which your godfather first, -and you after him, came into possession of the Mount Calm property.” - -Garnet Seabright had not listened patiently to this recital. Many times -her large, heavily-fringed eyes blazed and darkened; her cheeks -crimsoned and faded; and, though she pressed both hands to her chest, -her bosom heaved and fell like the waves of the sea. Many times she -interrupted him, and nothing, perhaps, but the felt law of justice -enabled Dr. Hutton to persevere to the close of his ungracious and -unwelcome narrative. - -When he had closed by revealing the hypocrisy, treachery, and revenge of -General Garnet, all the color was suddenly struck out from her face, as -though she had been blasted by a stroke of lightning, so white, so -still, and aghast was her aspect. Dr. Hutton hastened to her side and -took her hand. At the touch she rose in trepidation, and, scarcely -heeding what she said, exclaimed: - -“Not now! Not one single word now! I must be alone, or die! -To-morrow!—to-morrow I will hear you!” and hurried, or rather reeled, -from the room. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXIX. - THE STRUGGLE OF LOVE AND AMBITION. - - Her passion-tortured soul, - Like a ship dashed by fierce encountering tides, - And of her pilot spoiled, drives round and round, - The sport of wind and wave. - - -The next morning she appeared at the breakfast table with a face so pale -and stern as almost to awe the good Miss Joe from making an inquiry as -to her health. And when at last the old lady asked her if she were not -well, she replied curtly: - -“An ill night’s rest!” and the questioning ceased. - -When she had retired to the drawing room Dr. Hutton followed her -thither. He found her standing on the rug and resting her forehead -against the mantelpiece. Her long ringlets, hanging low, concealed her -face from his view, until she turned around and said, in a very low -voice: - -“Dr. Hutton, you are not going away this morning, are you?” - -“No, Miss Seabright!—no, Garnet. I did not rouse a war in your soul to -leave you until peace should be restored.” - -“I do not know why you should say there is a war,” said Garnet, in a -deep voice. - -“I can see it. That fiery blood that has left your brow and cheeks and -very lips of a gray paleness has mustered somewhere. Besides, I know -you, Garnet. You were always very transparent to me. I know that in your -soul the powers of good and evil are drawn out in battle array against -each other.” - -With an adjuring gesture she left her position, and, crossing the room, -threw herself into a chair. He watched her some few minutes where she -sat, with her pale brow resting on one hand and the other hanging -listlessly down, and then he slowly crossed the room, and, dropping upon -one knee by her side, raised her hand to his bosom, and said, in a voice -deep with passion: - -“Miss Seabright!—Nettie, my dear sister!—my wife, if you will bless me -so!—I wish—I do wish I had a kingdom to offer you to replace this Mount -Calm. As it is, I have only myself, and an affection, an affection, -Nettie, that—oh, I cannot tell you in a few words, a few seconds, that -love which it will take all the years we live together to express, to -live out!” - -“Oh, Hugh!” she said, in broken accents, “if you knew where this rack -screws and strains my heart-strings most. To think that one whom I -always loved and honored with a passionate enthusiasm as the very first -in human excellence—but no more of that! Not my lips shall breathe one -word of blame, though all earth and heaven cry shame on his memory!” -said Garnet, as her dark eyes smoldered and flashed and sank again, as -she breathed, in heart-broken tones: “No more of that! Oh, God, that I -could say to my thoughts, as to my tongue, ‘No more of that’!” - -And, scarcely heeding her lover, she arose, threw back her falling hair, -pressed both hands upon her bosom, and passed out of the room. - -It was late in the evening before he saw her again. He went into the -library after the lamps were lighted and found her sitting at one of the -reading tables, with her head bowed down upon her folded hands. He went -and sat by her, saying: - -“Garnet, dearest, do not keep your thoughts and troubles all to -yourself; let me share them. Come, come,” he continued, caressing her, -“this is unkind! I have had a very solitary day.” - -“A solitary day! I wish you joy of it! Mine has been ‘peopled with the -furies.’ Oh, Hugh, even in my wild infancy I was such an ambitious -child! Though, Heaven knows, there was nothing around me to foster -ambition, unless it were the want of everything, and the study of fairy -tales! Oh, Hugh! if the little wild water-witch of the isle was -ambitious——” - -“‘The woman, gifted with beauty, talent, wealth, and largest liberty, is -a hundred times more so,’ you would say,” said Hugh. “But, Garnet, do -you know there is an ambition more noble than all others—that of moral -greatness! Garnet, you have the opportunity granted to few—the -opportunity of moral heroism!” - -“Oh, Hugh, before I saw you I had great schemes! great schemes!” - -“I know it, dear Garnet; but they did not demand the great moral force -required of you to-day.” - -“But since you came, Hugh——” Here her voice broke down and she dropped -her head upon the table for a few minutes. Then, lifting it up again, -she held her veil of ringlets back, and said: “But since you came, Hugh, -all schemes have given place to one. I had been living in such a golden -dream, dear Hugh! Oh, listen! You know when we were two poor children, -obliged to pick our frugal meal of maninosies from the beach, and I, -inspired by the ‘Arabian Nights’ Entertainments,’ would be talking my -wild, childish talk about sudden riches and fairy grandmothers, you said -you had a fairy in your head who could convert the sand and clay into -gold-dust and precious gems.” - -“Yes, I remember. It was when I dreamed of being an agriculturist.” - -“And you promised you would make a fortune for me; confer rank, and -wealth, and honor upon me?” she asked, smiling very sadly. - -“Yes—yes, Nettie!” he answered solemnly. “Yes, and I hold myself bound -to redeem that boyish pledge. Doubly bound now, Nettie, for I must repay -you for all you lose.” - -“Oh, stop! Hear me out. Well—heigho! I thought if Hugh could give Garnet -a fortune he might also take one from her—take one with her. Oh, Hugh! I -knew I could not confer upon you rank or honor; you must make them for -both of us; but I dreamed that I could give you wealth to aid in doing -it. Hugh, listen! I heard you say that you would like to travel, and -spend some time in London, Paris, and at some of the German cities, for -the sake of perfecting your medical knowledge. I then heard you regret -that necessity which urged your immediate settlement in some Western -neighborhood, to commence practice. Well, Hugh, I dreamed that necessity -would be obviated. I dreamed, Hugh, that we would make a bridal tour to -Europe, and sojourn in all these capitals, while you pursued your -studies at your ease. Now my dream is over—over!” - -“God bless you for saying that, Garnet! God bless you for saying that! -The dream is over!—the dream is over!—the battle is over, and your moral -sense has nobly conquered; you will yield up this property?” - -“Over!—the battle? The doubt over! No! no! no! no! I did not say that, -either!” exclaimed Miss Seabright, her whole aspect changing. Suddenly -rising, with flashing eyes and burning cheeks, and pacing the room with -rapid steps: “Over! No! man! man! Is it a flower, a ring, an orange you -ask me for, that I should give it up without a struggle—as a matter of -course? Give up this estate! Why, I should be insane, frantic, frenzied! -Nothing short of ranting mad! Why, Hugh, is there a man, woman, or child -now living on this earth who would voluntarily yield up an estate which -they might keep—an estate of two millions of dollars—for—what?—a point -of conscience! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! Come, answer me!” she -exclaimed, throwing herself into a chair with a strange, unnatural air -of audacity. “Say! is there a man, woman, or child living who would do -this?” - -“Yes. Any child would do it. There is one man I know who would do it. -There is one woman who will do it.” - -“Me?” - -“You!” - -“Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! Why, Dr. Hutton, anyone, if they were -wealthy, might give up a thousand—ten thousand dollars, for conscience’ -sake; but two millions! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! Why, Dr. Hutton! I -am a human being, subject to like passions and foibles with other -people. I rather like wealth, handsome houses and furniture, and dress -and jewels, and servants and equipages, and traveling, sight-seeing, and -change of scene. And if there were nothing to be given up but these, how -great would be the sacrifice. But then, I have magnificent plans of -extensive philanthropy; glorious prospects of social distinction. And to -renounce these! How tremendous the renunciation!” - -“Ah, Nettie! with your usual perfect openness you have revealed the very -death-throes of your expiring selfishness. For your selfishness—will -die! Conscience will conquer it. The cup of earthly prosperity is -brimful, and at your lips, but you will put it, untasted, away. I know -you will! I have perfect faith in you!” - -“Hugh, you kill me! You madden me! Have you no pity? I believe you think -you will make me do it!” she exclaimed, starting up and pacing the floor -rapidly. “I do believe you fancy that you will make me give up this -estate by asserting confidently that I will do it.” - -“I think your true nobility of soul will constrain you to it.” - -Suddenly she stopped, threw both hands to her breast, and turned so -ghastly pale that Dr. Hutton sprang to her side, exclaiming: - -“Garnet, you are ill! Is it possible that this struggle produces such an -effect upon you?” - -She dropped her hands from her bosom, her color returned, and, smiling -strangely, she said: - -“Why, Hugh, do you fancy that I am such a spoiled child as to grow ill -because I want to have my own way in all things? No! But as I hurried up -and down the room in such a heat I was arrested suddenly by a quick, -sharp pang; a deathly pang, that caught away my breath. It seemed to me -as if another movement would have been fatal; it seemed as if in the -very flow of my high tide of life and audacity the skeleton fingers of -death had closed around my heart and squeezed it. It is gone now. Nay, -now, nonsense, Hugh! Do not look at me with such a death-warrant in your -eyes. If you look at your patients that way you will frighten them to -death!” she said, laughing. - -“Garnet, sit down. There—give me your wrist. Did you ever experience -this symptom before?” - -“Symptom! Bless you, Dr. Hutton, it is not a symptom. Dr. Hutton, if you -are out of practice and wish to get your hand in again, I refer you to -all the hypochondriacal old men and women on the plantation, who will -delight your professional heart with ‘symptoms’ for any length of time.” - -“Garnet, you have been too much agitated to-day, for one of your -excitable temperament. Go to rest.” - -“I will. I feel, for the first time in my life, a little exhausted,” she -replied, rising and extending her hand. - -He drew her unresisting to his bosom, pressed a kiss upon her brow, and -led her to the door. - -He did not see her again until the next day at dinner, when she appeared -in full dress, and looking grandly beautiful, joyous, and decided. He -congratulated her. She smiled exultingly, and said: - -“I feel well, very well, because I have come to a decision.” - -When dinner was over she challenged him for a walk on the terrace around -the roof of the house. When they had reached this elevated site she -advanced to the front of the balustrade, and, stretching one hand out -toward the magnificent prospect, she said: - -“Look, Hugh! Saw you ever a fairer scene?” - -“It is indeed a sublime and beautiful prospect.” - -“And has it no more interest than that? Listen, Hugh! All these waving -forests and rolling hills and plains; all these fields and barns and -granaries; all these orchards, vineyards, and gardens; these terraces, -with their statues, fountains, and conservatories; this mansion house, -with its stately chambers, halls, and saloons—is ours—is our beautiful, -our superb home, if you will take it—when you take me,” she said, -turning to him. - -“Nettie, when Satan wished to tempt Christ he took Him up into a very -high mountain, and showed Him the kingdoms of the earth and the glory -thereof, and said: ‘All these will I give Thee, if Thou wilt fall down -and worship me.’” - -“Upon my soul, I thank you for the parallel you have chosen to run -between me and Satan!” exclaimed Miss Seabright, with a burning cheek. - -“You misconstrue me, dearest Garnet. You do not tempt me. I am not -tempted. It is the Christ in you—the angel in you—the good in you that -is tempted by Ambition.” - -“Hugh! Hugh! It is not for myself now so much as for you that I am -ambitious. With the power this fortune would give, when joined to your -talents, you could become so distinguished.” - -“Again, Garnet: When Satan tempted Christ it was not through any puerile -idea, but through the grandest passion of the human soul—the passion by -which the great archangel fell—Ambition. But, I tell you, Garnet, that -if ambition be the most glorious of human passions, remorse is the most -terrible. And, too often one follows the other as surely as night -follows day.” - -She did not reply, and both remained silent for a few minutes, when, -taking her hand, he said impressively: - -“Do not think me ungrateful, dearest Garnet. Very deeply do I feel the -blessing of your sweet love; very highly do I estimate the honor of your -ambition for me. But listen, dearest. In erecting your edifice of -earthly happiness, it would be well to lay the basement sure. You might -possess and inhabit a princely palace, luxuriously furnished, yet you -would not glory in its splendor, or even enjoy a moment’s repose under -its roof, if you knew its foundation to be insecure; that at any instant -in the midst of enjoyment it might suddenly fall and crush you under its -magnificent ruins. Garnet, such an insecure dwelling-place, such a -transient phantasmagoria, is any plan of earthly happiness not based -upon the principles of justice. Such, Garnet, is your edifice of -enjoyment; for you will feel that death, which hangs over us all at all -times, may at any moment summon you from its possession to place you at -the bar of Eternal Justice, to answer for the sin of your soul. And your -ill-gotten splendors here will be your condemnation hereafter. Oh, -believe me, dear Garnet, to say nothing of the sublime beauty of faith -displayed in the sacrifice of earthly interests to heavenly prospects—of -temporal pleasures to eternal joys—there is great good sense in seeking -‘first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness’; for, look you; I may -gain wealth and renown, but if my fortune is ill-gotten I cannot fully -enjoy it, for knowing that at any time my soul may be snatched from its -possessions to the bar of God, and, stained with falsehood and injustice -as it is, be hurled thence to perdition. But, on the other hand, if my -fortune is founded upon righteousness, and built up with the blessing of -God, then I may be as rich and as great as I please, and yet enjoy this -world with a surer joy for knowing that it leads to a better and an -eternal one. Life, dear Garnet, is a journey to the Judgment Seat. In -all your plans, therefore, of life’s journey, look to its end. If you -set out upon a road that you knew was leading you to misery—no matter -how fine the carriage in which you traveled, how soft the cushions on -which you sat, how beautiful the country through which you passed—you -could not enjoy it; for every mile that should draw you nearer to its -close would increase your uneasiness, for you would know its end to be -misery. Such a journey, dear Garnet, will be your life if you set out -upon it with ill-gotten riches. Now, look on the other side of the -question. If you should start upon a journey that you know will bring -you finally to a haven of rest and honor—no matter how common your -vehicle, how rough your road, how ordinary the landscape, how full of -unpleasant accidents—you will endure it, and at every stage with more -cheerfulness, for knowing that it brings you nearer to its end, and that -its end is repose and happiness. And, if your journey should be -pleasant, its very pleasures will be enhanced by the knowledge that its -goal is rest, honor, and joy. Such a journey will our lives be, dearest -love. You will resign this estate. We will marry, and, feeling the smile -and blessing of God upon us, we will go forth strongly and hopefully and -labor for our living. We shall have some early struggles, but God will -be with us. He will bless our sacrifice, and we shall finally prosper. -And while weeks are slipping into months, and months gliding into years, -we shall really enjoy the very making of a fortune, taste prosperity -piecemeal, and get the good of every morsel. Every little comfort that -we may be able to add to our daily domestic life will be relished the -more that we have felt the want of it, and blessed the more that it has -come to us from God. And for our future years I hope highly, but may not -prophesy. They are in the hands of God,” he said, raising his hat with -profound reverence. Then, his tone changing to one of deep tenderness, -he stretched forth his arms, and said: “Come, Nettie! Come, my darling -wife. You will give up all this ill-starred wealth, and trust in God to -restore you a hundredfold.” - -Pale and drooping with excess of feeling she sank upon his bosom, -murmuring: - -“Oh, God bless you, Hugh! Large and full heart, God bless you! Where -could I find my life but in you? But, oh, dear Hugh, do not be a martyr -at this rational age of the world! Take my fortune with me.” - -“Never, Nettie! Never, so strengthen me Heaven! When I take you I will -take no sin with you.” - -She started, burst from his embrace, and broke forth with passionate -vehemence: - -“Silence! I will not hear you. I will never give up my privileges. I -will not be a fanatic to please you. Oh! look at me, Hugh; and do not -think I speak from vanity, but from a war of conflicting passions, that -rends my soul in twain. Do I look like one to be condemned to poverty, -and privation, and domestic toil, and drudgery? I will speak out, though -in your eyes I convict myself of vanity and presumption. You never -called me beautiful in words, but you have said so with your eyes a -thousand times. Oh, Hugh, I valued my beauty as I did my wealth, for -your sake. But should I be beautiful in poverty? You know that I know -what poverty is! Look at my hair, Hugh. Yesterday you took the whole -mass up in your hand and looked at it as at a treasure, so proudly; then -you singled out a ringlet and examined it as a strange beauty, so -curiously. Now look at the ringlets again. Do you think it requires no -care to keep them so soft and glossy, and in such full curl? Why, a -rose-bush will not bloom in full glory unless it is cared for and -tended; neither will my beauty. Hugh, I do not know why I may not -venture to speak before you what I dare to think before God. I know that -my soul’s habitation is beautiful; and it seems to me fit that it should -be so, and that its beauty should be enhanced by rich drapery, and -preserved from all uses. How could that be done in bitter poverty?” - -“Garnet,” he answered solemnly, “the soul is greater than its temple. -Would you preserve the temple sacred from all uses, yet degrade the -greater deity within it? Would you preserve the delicacy of your beauty, -and clothe your form in gorgeous apparel by an action that would stain -your soul with foul dishonesty?” - -“Don’t talk to me any more. You will drive me frantic. Dishonesty! That -is the low vice of ignorant and debased natures, for which they are -sometimes sent to the State’s prison.” - -“And yet which is more excusable ‘in ignorant and debased natures’ than -in intelligent and exalted ones,” said he sternly. - -“Dishonesty! What have I to do with that? This estate is legally mine. -To keep it is not even injustice. Why do you talk to me so?” she -exclaimed, tearing at her bosom, as she wildly walked up and down the -terrace, as if to pluck away the burning pain there. “Why do you -torture—exasperate—madden me so?” - -“It is not I, Garnet. No mere words that I could speak could disturb -your bosom’s peace. It is the awful conscience there that refuses to be -silent,” said Hugh solemnly. - -She paused before him, trembling all over; clenching her chest with her -spread hands, as though to clutch the passion there; her eyes burning in -their intense lurid fire, in fearful contrast with the ghastly paleness -of her brow and cheeks, and gasped between her white lips: - -“You are an incendiary, sent here to convulse my soul with war, until -Reason herself is hurled from her throne! Man! man! You know what civil -war in a nation is. Do you know—can you guess what the internal conflict -of a divided soul is? No, you do not. Your well-balanced mind, like a -well-governed State, is always quiet. But mine! Oh, you have raised an -insurrection in my soul that can never, never be suppressed! Oh, man! -man! it is a grievous wrong that you have done me. I was so highly happy -in my glorious hopes and prospects until you came. You have killed all -my joy. But do not think,” she exclaimed, with another violent outburst -of passion; “do not think that you have succeeded! Do not! Never suppose -that to please your fanaticism I will give up my estate—never! never!” - -“No, Garnet. Not to please my fanaticism, as you call it, will you do -so, but in obedience to your awakened and aroused conscience will you do -so.” - -“What! Never! What! resign all my great plans of usefulness, of -benevolence, of wide philanthropy? Renounce all my glorious prospects of -world honor—perhaps renown? Man! do you know what you ask of me? They -are worth my soul’s price. Give up my fortune! Do you know its amount? -Why, my income is almost a queen’s revenue. Do you know, as I do, with -what power it clothes me?” - -“I know the vast amount and great power of your wealth, Garnet. And I -know the great good that you, with your wonderful beauty, talent, and -enterprise could do with it; the great distinction you could gain by it. -I know your pride, your ambition, your burning aspiration after worldly -glory, and I feel the stupendous force of the temptation that is upon -you.” - -“I tell you, my power, my plans and prospects are worth almost my soul’s -price!” she exclaimed vehemently. - -“‘Almost’ not quite. There is a surplus value and weight about the soul -that will weigh down the scale, and toss the fortune up.” - -“Never, I tell you. Never!” she repeated passionately. - -Dr. Hutton regarded her fixedly for some moments, then he asked coldly: - -“And this, then, is your final decision, Miss Seabright?” - -“Yes; please Heaven, it is.” - -“But it will not please Heaven, Miss Seabright. I only waited for your -decision. I have it, and I shall leave here to-morrow. Had your -conclusion been otherwise—but no more of that. And now,” said he -sternly, “listen to me! You will go forth into the world. Your wondrous -beauty, genius, and your riches will draw around you the mighty in -intellect, wealth, and position. Yet, queen of that court as you will -be, you will take no joy on your throne; you will know you have usurped -the seat of another. Your graces of mind and of person will be the theme -of every tongue, yet you will know that they clothe a soul spotted with -dishonesty. Your extensive philanthropy will be the admiration of sages -and statesmen, yet their praises will reproach you with the thought that -your munificence is at the expense of another. Your benevolence will be -the sustaining hope and comfort of all the poor and wretched around you, -yet their very blessings will curse you with the thought that you have -relieved them with means falsely taken and falsely kept from a widow. -You will dwell in lordly mansions, yet their magnificence will oppress -you with the consciousness that they belong in justice to another. You -will be arrayed in costly garments, yet you will be scarcely able to -bear the glare of their splendor, for you will know they cover a woman -degraded from her pristine nobility by base ambition, and stained with -foul injustice. You will be adorned with priceless gems, yet the diamond -tiara on your brow will burn and sear your brain like a diadem of flame; -the diamond necklace on your bosom will scorch and eat into your heart -like a circlet of fire.” - -“Hugh! Hugh! spare me! I tell you you will drive me mad!” she cried, -clasping her temples. - -“At last you will cap the climax of your hopes by marrying some grand -magnate of the land, yet you will bear within your bosom all the while a -false, a widowed, and a lonely heart, for you will know that your -husband is not your true mate; for you will know—you do know, oh, -Garnet!—you feel by all the instincts of your nature that it was to -this—this bosom that God wedded you from the first!” he said, dropping -his voice to a gentle tone, and drawing her toward him. - -She dropped her face upon his shoulder, and wept and sobbed as if her -heart would break. Such convulsions of sobs; such a deluge of tears! -Gasping all the while: - -“Oh, I do! I know it, Hugh. Then, why will you cast me from you because -I happen to be burdened with a fortune? Is not that a strange, new -reason for leaving the girl that you love?” - -“Garnet! darling Nettie!” said Hugh tenderly; “if you were suddenly -bereft of your enchanting beauty, my love would be strong enough to bear -the change; for the heart and soul that I loved most would live for me -unaltered. But smirch not the fairness of your soul, Garnet, for I will -not wed moral deformity.” - -“This is weakness! This is miserable driveling!” exclaimed Miss -Seabright, starting from her resting-place upon his bosom, and dashing -the tears from her flashing eyes. “I am no mendicant for your love, sir! -No! nor will I purchase it at too high a price, either!” she added -bitterly, throwing off his deprecating hand, and hurrying from him into -the house. - -Hugh looked after her in deep thought; then said to himself: - -“The flow and ebb of ocean’s tide is nothing to the waving forth and -back of her mind in its present phase. How strong—how terrible is the -death-agony of her ambition! If the contest were simply between ambition -and love, ambition would triumph in a high, proud nature like hers; but -justice sides with love, and together they are invincible. I would the -battle were over, though.” - -He did not see her again during the day. She did not appear even at the -supper-table. - -I have no time to tell you how Garnet Seabright spent that night, how -the battle in her soul was fought and won. I have only time left for -results. - -In the gray of the morning Hugh Hutton came downstairs, booted, -great-coated, and laden with his saddle-bags, preparatory to mounting -his horse to set forth on his journey. He found Garnet Seabright in the -great hall, apparently waiting for him. She stood at the foot of the -stairs and leaned for support against the balustrades. She was looking -very haggard, as from loss of rest and anxiety; yet, through all the -physical weariness there radiated the light of a calm joy. He lifted his -hat and bowed, intending to pass her, when she raised her hand, and by -an adjuring gesture, stayed him, murmuring very low: - -“Dr. Hutton, was it really your intention to leave me this morning?” - -“It was, Miss Seabright,” he replied, in a deep, constrained voice. - -“‘It was,’ and is it?” she added, in a low tone, gently moving from her -position. - -“It was, and is, Miss Seabright, unless you give me the only good reason -for staying.” - -She advanced toward him, slowly, slowly, with averted face and deeply -blushing cheek, laid both her hands in both of his, and murmured almost -timidly: - -“Stay, then, Dr. Hutton; I give up the estate.” - -Hugh Hutton dropped his saddle-bags, drew her to his bosom and pressed -her there, but spoke no word as yet. - -“Yes, take me, Dr. Hutton! I am not worth much, bereft of all my glory, -shorn,” she smiled faintly; “quite shorn of all my beams; but such as I -am, you may have me, Dr. Hutton,” she murmured, dropping her head on his -shoulder. Then, as he strained her to his bosom, the passion-fraught -heart of the man found expression for its fullness of emotion in one -“great heart-word”: - -“My wife!” - -“Yes, your wife,” she whispered, very softly, hiding her glowing face on -his bosom. “Your wife! no more nor less than simply that cheerful toiler -by your side. I thought to have conferred wealth on you! It was a proud, -presuming thought—it is past now.” - -“My wife! my wife! you have! you do——” ejaculated Hugh Hutton, with his -full heart gushing in every tone, until it choked his utterance, and he -stopped. - -Through all their painful struggle he had not broken down until now; and -now—but she was talking again, murmuring in her sweet, deep tones again, -and he bent to listen, to hear her whisper: - -“Oh, Hugh! such a night as I have passed; such resistance of the demon, -before he would flee from me. But the war is over now—quite over! The -estate, the projects are all resigned, and not regretted—for, oh, Hugh! -where could I find such richness and fullness of life and joy as——” Her -low voice died away with her breath along his cheek and chestnut hair. -But it was Garnet’s nature or her present mood to pour forth the -fullness of her heart in words. She spoke again: “Oh, Hugh, I am so -glad, so comforted and strengthened, so proud of you, that you did not -yield one jot or tittle of the right, even for my love. Oh, Hugh! oh, -Hugh! my guide and guard! be always good, and great, and strong, that I -may have full life and joy in loving you. And when you have drawn your -Nettie up to your own high moral level, soar you higher still, that, -though rising herself, she may see you ever above her, and honor you as -now! as now!” - -“Oh, God, have I deserved this!” exclaimed Hugh Hutton, raising his eyes -in grateful adoration an instant, and then bending them with unutterable -love on Garnet, as he ejaculated in earnest, fervent, broken language: -“Nettie! Nettie! not Heaven, not Heaven could give me a higher incentive -to high resolve than He has given me in your faith—in your faith!” - -He pressed his lips to hers, and from that first burning kiss the tide -of eloquence found way. He snatched her up in his arms, hurried into the -parlor, set her in a chair, sank down by her side, and, folding his arms -adoringly around her form, poured forth, in words of fire, the -long-pent, great passion of his heart. - - - - - CHAPTER XL. - ELSIE’S FORTUNES. - - You shall be blessed as once you were with friends, and home, and all - That in the exulting joy of love your own you fondly call; - Beloved and loving faces that you’ve known so long as well; - The dear familiar places where your childish footsteps fell. - - -It was Saturday night, and Dr. Hardcastle had not yet returned home to -supper. The family, except Elsie, had all retired to bed. Elsie had had -a very fatiguing day, as most industrious housekeepers must have in -bringing the week’s work to a conclusion. Elsie’s work, however, was not -yet fully completed, though the family clock was on the stroke of nine, -for having gotten through with all the heavy household labor, cleared up -the supper-table, put the children to bed, and persuaded her mother to -retire to rest, she set the coffee pot and a covered plate and dish to -keep hot for Magnus, replenished the fire, drew a little table up before -it, and sat down with a large basket of stockings to darn—a couple of -dozen of little hose and half a dozen pair of large ones—all to be -looked over, and half to be mended. And Elsie, with her usually happy -alchemy of turning everything into a subject of congratulation, said to -herself that it was very fortunate she had so many stockings to darn, as -it made the time pass so much quicker while waiting for Magnus. Yet -Elsie was very weary; very well prepared to appreciate the blessings of -the Sabbath that makes cessation from work a positive duty. Yes, she was -very weary, though the only signs of fatigue she showed were in the -deeper flush of her cheek, the brighter light of her eyes, and the -clammy moisture of her fair forehead that half uncurled the golden -ringlets. The last little stocking was drawn upon her hand, and the -bright needle swiftly gliding in and out among the meshes of the last -rent, when the quick gallop of a horse into the yard apprised her that -her husband had come, and in an instant more the door was thrown open -and Dr. Hardcastle entered. Elsie was about to rise and receive him, -when something strange and novel in his air and manner arrested her -attention, as he said: - -“No, do not stir! Sit still, dear Elsie! I want to look at you just as -you are a moment.” He threw off his great-coat, drew a chair to her -side, seated himself by her, and gazed at her for the space of half a -minute. Then he took her hand into his palm, pressed it, and, opening -his hand, watched the rosy tide ebb and flow through her still beautiful -fingers. “Elsie,” said he, “how long have we been married, dear wife?” - -“Eleven years and more,” replied she, looking up inquiringly. - -“Do you remember, dear, Judge Wylie’s ball given in honor of your return -from school? Do you remember that we had just heard of my changed -prospects, and that we knew if we should marry we would have to go forth -to a life of toil and self-denial—and do you remember that I took this -hand into mine with fear and trembling for its destiny as it lay in my -broad, brown palm, a tiny snow-white thing, sparkling with diamonds like -icicles on snow, a fairy hand—an ideal hand?” - -“Yes, I remember you talked a great deal of poetry about my hand, dear -Magnus—and I remember that seeing you loved its beauty so much, I made a -rash promise to keep it always beautiful for your sake. I could not do -it, dear Magnus. It is not so fair and elegant now as it was then,” said -Elsie, smiling, and holding it up. - -“But, oh! how much dearer! how much more beloved! Then it was an ideal -hand—now it is a human hand, a mother’s hand,” he said, taking it again -and pressing it to his lips and bosom, and gazing fondly on her. Then, -after a little, he spoke again, saying: “Elsie, dearest, there was -another promise which you made, but in my name, and which I tacitly -indorsed, yet have failed to perform.” - -“Well, dear Magnus?” - -“Do you remember the dress you wore upon the memorable occasion of that -ball? I do perfectly. I do not know the material of which it was made, -but it floated around you as you moved—a soft and radiant mist. And when -I spoke of it, bemoaning the fate that would change it for a plain garb -such as befitted a poor young doctor’s wife—you smiled hopefully, and -promised that in ten years, when I should have ‘achieved greatness,’ you -would wear a much richer dress, which should still befit my station—and -I indorsed the promise; yet ten years have passed, and I have failed to -redeem it. My Elsie still wears coarse clothing, and works from morning -till night.” - -“Your Elsie is happy, dearest Magnus. And the Princess Charlotte -herself, the idol lady of all England, could not say any more. Young -people, especially where youth is brightened by such sanguine blood as -mine, have too many extravagant hopes—make too many rash promises; I say -again, your Elsie is happy, dear Magnus, and if she had the world she -could not say more.” - -He gazed on her in fond admiration for a little while, and then said: - -“Elsie, dearest, there is one thing at least in which we did not promise -or expect too much—in which we have not failed to keep our promise—to -love each other more and more every year we should live.” - -She raised her eyes to his, and he read her answer in their loving -glance. - -“Well, Elsie,” he said, at last, “you are happy; yet it is not now the -hope of better days to come that makes you happy—for more than ten years -have passed, and I have not laid by a thousand dollars. So you can -scarcely expect now that I shall ever make a fortune by my profession.” - -“Well, we make a comfortable living, and shall continue to do so; and as -for our dear children, we must educate them to work, as we have done. -Let me give you your supper now, Magnus.” - -“No—not just yet,” he said, smiling on her hand and pressing it. - -“Well, then, let go my hand a minute, till I finish darning little -Elsie’s stocking.” - -“No! no more work to-night, Elsie,” he said firmly. - -“Oh! just let me finish this last stocking; it completes the whole job.” - -“No! no more work to-night! No more work ever more for you. The long, -long trial you have borne so patiently, so nobly, is over. Elsie! -dearest Elsie! fortune has come to us at last.” - -Elsie stared at her husband with a look so blank that you could not have -told whether she had heard good or bad news—an instant, and then a -sudden joy broke over her countenance, and she exclaimed, in a voice of -wonder and gladness: - -“Fortune! You tell me so, Magnus, and it must be true.” - -“Yes, fortune—yet it has come to us through such solemn, not to say -tragic, circumstances that our prosperity must be received with a -chastened spirit. Listen, dearest Elsie—this evening, as I returned -home, I called at the post office and found a letter from Reynolds, who -used to do all my Uncle Hardcastle’s law business. By his letter I -learned that about five weeks since my unhappy cousin, Lionel, who had -just returned from making the tour of Europe with his ward, was -instantly killed on Hutton’s Island by the accidental discharge of a -pistol. My uncle never recovered from the shock of his death, and he -sank gradually until about five days since, when he died, leaving me -sole heir to all his property and executor of his will.” - -“Alas! Magnus, is it not a sad and grave thought, that no property which -we do not make by our own toil ever comes to us except through the death -or the misfortunes of others! Alas! Magnus, our prosperity should indeed -be received with a very chastened spirit.” - -“Yes, sudden riches should be always received with fear and trembling; -and when they come by sudden death—with awe!” - -Elsie looked down thoughtfully upon her clasped hands and then, after a -little while, inquired: - -“Well, Magnus! what will be your first movement under these new -circumstances?” - -“I shall proceed at once to Hemlock Hollow to settle up affairs, and -prepare the old hall for the reception of you and the children. And by -the time those arrangements are completed the weather will be -sufficiently settled to remove them. The only point of difficulty is in -the temporary disposition of my professional business. I scarcely know -what to do with my patients. I wish Hugh would return and take charge of -the practice for a few weeks during my absence, or until the people -could get another physician to settle among them.” - -“It is quite time that we had heard from Hugh. But, dear Magnus, has -this sudden news quite deprived you of your appetite?” said Elsie, -rising and putting away her basket of work. - -“No—oh, no, dearest! Give me my supper.” - -Elsie’s nimble hands quickly laid the cloth, and spread the little -supper. Magnus drew up his chair, and Elsie had just poured out his -coffee when the quick gallop of a horse up to the house, followed by a -loud knocking at the door, arrested their attention. Magnus went to -answer the summons, and in another instant Hugh Hutton entered. “Why, -Hugh!” exclaimed Dr. Hardcastle and his wife in one breath. - -“Come in! Come in! We are so glad to see you! But where on earth did you -come from? How did you come? You did not come by the stage this -afternoon, for I was at the stage office myself when it came in,” said -Dr. Hardcastle. - -“No; I missed the coach at the last station, and had to hire a horse to -bring me hither. But how do you all do?” said Hugh, shaking hands with -both. - -“Well, very well! But you, Hugh, how is it with you?” asked Dr. -Hardcastle, glancing at his black suit. - -“I may reply in your own words—‘Well, very well!’ You got my letter?” - -“Yes.” - -“Well, friends, it was a bitter blow to me, but I believe now it was -dealt in mercy to her. You have heard from Hemlock Hollow.” - -“Yes—but only this evening.” - -“And what do you intend to do?” - -“To go on there immediately and prepare for the removal of my family as -soon as the weather permits. But, come, Hugh—come, here is supper. See, -Elsie has already set your plate and knife and fork and poured out your -coffee.” - -“What! have you really not supped yet?” - -“I have not! Draw up.” - -The conversation at supper turned upon the affairs of Hemlock Hollow, -Point Pleasant, Huttontown, and its neighborhood. Yet there was a -studious avoidance of the subject of Mount Calm and Garnet Seabright, -until the cloth was removed, and Dr. Hardcastle arose with the evident -intention of showing his guest to his chamber. - -Then Hugh made a sign to his host to take his seat, and resumed his own, -saying: “Well, my dear friends, you have inquired after everybody in our -old neighborhood except my fair young hostess, Miss Seabright of Mount -Calm; and yet one would think that she would interest you more than -all.” - -Hugh paused for a reply, and looked at them both. Elsie’s brow -crimsoned, and she turned away. Dr. Hardcastle looked very grave, and -remained silent. - -“If you knew Miss Seabright personally you would admire her very much. -She is the most superbly beautiful woman I ever saw—of the brunette -order, I mean,” he added, bowing and smiling toward Mrs. Hardcastle, who -averted her face with a heightened color. “Yes, she is certainly the -most splendidly beautiful brunette I ever saw—and with a soul, too, more -beautiful than its shrine.” - -Still Elsie averted her head, and Dr. Hardcastle continued gravely -silent. - -“You do not answer me,” said Hugh perseveringly. - -“Hugh, my dear boy, Elsie and myself love and admire you sufficiently. -Do not insist upon our loving and admiring your friend, Miss Seabright. -Under all the circumstances it is quite too great a task for human -nature.” - -“Yet,” said Hugh—and his voice faltered, and the tears swam in his -eyes—“yet last week I was the instrument in the hands of Providence in -setting a far greater task than that to human nature, sir! And not to -nature, well-disciplined human nature like yours, but to young, ardent, -impetuous human nature—and I saw, through tears and groans, and -writhings of the spirit, that task accomplished. What should you think -of a young girl endowed with great wealth, peerless beauty, graces and -accomplishments—fitted in every way to adorn the highest circles of -society—a girl, besides, of high self-appreciation—of great ambition—of -adventurous enterprise—whose head and heart were busy with a hundred -grand and glorious plans of life—what, I ask you, should you think of -such a girl, in such circumstances, giving up her wealth, her rank, her -splendid plans and prospects, her soul’s most cherished expectations and -desires for the sake of simple, abstract justice?” - -“I should think that such a noble girl was worthy of a king’s worship, -or rather of a hero’s love. But it is impossible! No girl would ever do -this,” said Dr. Hardcastle, turning and gazing at Hugh with wonder. - -“Will you please to look over these documents,” said Hugh, drawing a -packet of papers from his great-coat pocket and laying them on the -table. - -“The title deeds of Mount Calm, and legally conveyed to Alice Chester -Garnet by Garnet Seabright!” exclaimed Dr. Hardcastle, examining them. -Then he laid the documents down, squared himself round, placed his hands -upon his knees, and, staring full into the face of Hugh, said: “Hugh! -what the d——, I never swore in my life! Don’t make me begin now! But -what the deuce does all this mean?” - -“You see what it means. Miss Seabright, having come of age, and feeling -that she has no just right to the Mount Calm estate, conveys it to its -original owner, Mrs. Garnet!” - -Elsie suddenly clasped her hands, and bent forward with flushed cheeks -and open lips. - -Dr. Hardcastle continued his fixed, broad stare, until Hugh exclaimed: - -“God bless all our souls, Magnus Hardcastle, you are not the only noble -specimen of God’s workmanship on earth. There are others capable of -magnanimity besides Magnus—even the young girl, Garnet Seabright!” - -“Garnet! She is a diamond of the first water. Is it possible that this -should be so? I can scarcely credit the testimony of my eyes and ears! -That Miss Seabright, as soon as she reached her majority, should have -given up her estate. Oh! it must have been a mere impulse of youthful -enthusiasm. She could not have known the value of money and -property—and, besides, you must have used great powers of persuasion -with her.” - -“No—you are wrong in every point. It was not enthusiasm. All her -enthusiasm was enlisted on the other side, in favor of social -distinction, for which she considered wealth indispensable. Nor was she -ignorant of the value of money. No, enlightened by experiences in the -extremes of, first poverty and afterward wealth, this girl of twenty-one -had as accurate a knowledge of the value of money and property as any -miser, beggar, or banker of forty-two. Nor was it without a struggle she -resigned the estate. Most terrible indeed was the battle in her soul -before Justice subdued Ambition. Nor was it through my persuasion that -she made this glorious sacrifice to right. No; no mere words of mine -could have subdued that towering pride, governed that aspiring ambition. -No; I simply set the truth before her, and then let it work its way. No; -I set the truth before her, and then I might have gone to Patagonia or -Bering Strait, and the result would have been the same. She would never -have known an hour’s peace until she had restored the property, at -whatever sacrifice to her pride and ambition.” - -Here Elsie broke forth, exclaiming: - -“Oh! what a noble girl! Oh! I love and admire her so much. I do think if -I were in mother’s place now I should be Quixotic enough to convey the -whole estate back again to her. At least, I know I would make her take -back half of it. My heart burns toward that noble girl, and I feel half -ashamed that we should benefit by her magnanimity. I feel as if by her -giving and our receiving so much that she is more noble than we are.” - -“Yes, yes! She is indeed a noble, a wonderful girl!” exclaimed Dr. -Hardcastle. - -“And this noble, this wonderful girl,” said Hugh, with his cheeks and -eyes kindling with pride and joy—“this glorious girl is going to be my -wife! Congratulate me, dear friends!” he suddenly exclaimed, impulsively -thrusting out a hand to each. - -“Going to be your wife? I am so glad,” exclaimed Elsie, pressing his -left hand. - -“Going to be your wife? Why, then, dear Hugh, this great sacrifice is -fully as much yours as hers—since what was hers would have been yours,” -said Dr. Hardcastle, shaking his right hand. - -“Never mind that; only wish me joy.” - -“We do! We do! with all our hearts,” said Elsie, clasping his hand -again. “But when are you going to be married, Hugh?” - -“Next Thursday four weeks. Having deprived Nettie of all her wealth I -must take her as soon as possible under my legal protection, unsettled -as I am, and trust God with the result. Yes, next Thursday four weeks; -that will give you time to prepare to come to Mount Calm, which, having -been just handsomely fitted up for the reception of Miss Seabright, on -her return from Europe, is in a proper condition to receive your family. -Miss Seabright will remain at Mount Calm until our marriage, which will -take place there. We wish you to arrive at or before our wedding day, -that when we leave the mansion house we may leave you in possession.” - -“Hugh, we are not, of course, authorized to promise anything in the name -of Mrs. Garnet, who is at this moment ignorant of Miss Seabright’s -magnanimity; but—I would she were here to answer for herself.” - -Here the clock struck twelve, and Dr. Hardcastle, lighting another -candle, said: - -“Friends, it is Sunday morning. Let us waive the discussion of worldly -matters for to-day. Hugh, you know your chamber. Good-night!” - - - - - CHAPTER XLI. - THE SECRET REVEALED. - - And in her lineaments they trace - Some features of her father’s face. - _—Byron._ - - -In the meantime Miss Seabright was preparing to resign her state. Few -can estimate the terrible trial it was to this just but ambitious girl -to abdicate her elevated social position and step down upon the common -level to labor with the common herd. You have already seen how, in the -fearful struggle which had ensued—in that dread bosom tempest—all the -latent selfishness which marred that noble nature was thrown up and -exposed upon the crest of the tossing waves of passion. But if, in this -soul-storm, her hidden evil was cast up to view, it was also cast off. -And then, when the waves of her heart subsided, and the clouds on her -brain dispersed, and the sun of right shone out clear and bright, -illuminating her soul, and revealing her to herself—then she saw that -there was something in her own nature greater than all her adventitious -surroundings. Now she would not have said to Hugh what she had said -before, “I am not much, shorn of my beams.” No, indeed, there was -consolidating in her heart a noble, steadfast self-appreciation that -would no more falsify itself by factitious humility than degrade itself -by unjust action. And having once made the sacrifice, and turned her -back upon the splendors of her past fortune, there was no regret, no -looking back, like Lot’s wife; her face was set to her forward path—her -strong, impetuous soul already rushing on to realize her future of -loving and hopeful toil with Hugh for her companion and guide. With -Hugh! How, the recurring of his very name, the tide of emotion, like the -rushing of a mighty river, would roll over her, overwhelming and -confusing her soul with a sort of lost, delirious joy! Within this month -of sacrifice, how much stronger and more concentrated had become her -love for Hugh! And if the Judge of all hearts had demanded a reason for -the mighty love that was in her, she would have been constrained to -answer, “It is his moral integrity that has mastered my heart. It is his -moral integrity that would not waver, for love or for ambition—those two -mightiest passions of the human soul. I loved him before, I loved him -well enough to have given him myself and all my wealth, but when I found -in him a moral rectitude that would not bend for love of me, or hope of -grandeur, I was drawn up to adore him. Yes, that is why I would rather -follow him barefoot over all the earth, if necessary, and serve him as -the Indian woman serves her lord, than be myself the object of worship -to all the world.” - -Yes, there was a man to love through life and unto death; there was a -man to repose upon in all weakness, to confide in in all emergencies; -whom the combined power of love and ambition, beauty, wealth, and the -usages of society that would have justified him, could never move from -his uprightness. There was a pillar of strength to cling to in a storm. -It was with as much high-born pride and joy as love that Garnet thought -of her betrothed. - -The month and her preparations drew near their close. She was daily -expecting to hear of the arrival of the family of Dr. Hardcastle at -Hemlock Hollow. Dr. Hutton, who had not yet returned, was to come with -them. She was looking for them by every stage, and hourly she added some -new attraction to the preparations she was making to receive them. The -ancients were accustomed to adorn a sacrifice before offering it up, and -the same instinct impelled Miss Seabright daily to walk through her -halls and chambers, designing, with her artistic taste, new improvements -and embellishments for the palace home she was about to resign. - -The wedding day arrived. It was a bright and beautiful day in May. Upon -the evening previous Dr. Hardcastle, with his family, had arrived at -Hemlock Hollow. Therefore, there had been no time or opportunity for a -meeting between them and Miss Seabright previous to the marriage day. -Dr. Hutton was a guest at the Hollow, and a note from him to Miss -Seabright informed her that they would all be at Mount Calm at an early -hour of the morning. Owing to the rather recent deaths in the family, -and the peculiarity of the circumstances, it had been arranged that the -marriage ceremony should be performed quietly at eight o’clock in the -morning in the saloon of Mount Calm, in the presence of few witnesses, -and that immediately after the ceremony and breakfast the young couple -should depart to seek their Western home, leaving Mrs. Garnet in -possession of the mansion house and the estate. The only guests invited -were the Hardcastles, with Mrs. Garnet, Judge Wylie and Miss Wylie, and -their old friend, the Rev. Mr. Wilson, with his wife and young sister. -The marriage ceremony was to be performed after the Episcopal ritual by -the recently installed pastor of the New Church. - -At seven o’clock in the morning, therefore, the few privileged friends, -with the exception of the Hardcastles, who had not yet arrived, were -assembled in the saloon of Mount Calm, awaiting the entree of the bridal -party. - -At last the carriage containing the family from Hemlock Hollow drove up -and paused before the main entrance of the mansion, and Dr. Hardcastle -alighted, followed by Dr. Hutton, who then handed out Mrs. Garnet and -Mrs. Hardcastle. They passed up the marble stairs and into the hall, -where they paused until Mrs. Garnet had sent up a servant to the bride, -to request the favor of being received by her before she should come -down into the saloon, and obtained an answer that Miss Seabright would -be pleased to see Mrs. Garnet and Mrs. Hardcastle in her own apartment. - -The servant who brought back the message bowed and offered to show the -ladies up. Mrs. Garnet and her daughter followed him up the broad -staircase into the upper hall, and through a door into an elegant front -dressing room, which Alice recognized with a smile as having been her -own bedchamber. - -The room, when they entered, was vacant of other occupants, but they had -scarcely seated themselves at the front windows when the opposite -folding doors opened and Miss Seabright appeared before them. - -A novice, when she is about to renounce forever the pomps and vanities -of the world and take the black veil of the nun, arrays herself for the -last time in costly apparel. So Miss Seabright, when about to resign -forever all pretensions to splendor, arrayed her glorious form with -almost regal magnificence. Her bridal costume was a rich Mechlin lace -over white and silver brocaded satin, and festooned with bouquets of -pearls and diamonds, a fine and ample lace veil confined above her and -ringlets by a wreath of the same priceless gems. - -Mrs. Garnet raised her eyes to look upon the bride. She had never seen -Miss Seabright before, and now, at the first sight of her magnificently -beautiful form and face, Alice started violently: all the blood suddenly -left her cheeks for an instant, and then rushed back again, crimsoning -her face to the very edges of her hair—so startling, so strong, so -painful was the resemblance of Miss Seabright to the late General -Garnet. Yes, there was the same majesty and sweetness of mien, the same -regal turn of head and neck, the same fiery, dark hair, the same -smoldering and flashing eyes, the same beautiful lips, the same -bewildering smile. The only difference was that in place of the latent -diabolism under General Garnet’s countenance all heaven shone from Miss -Seabright’s. Alice felt that she looked upon her late husband’s face, -only with its beauty idealized, elevated, made divine. The vague, -half-formed suspicions concerning the paternity of Garnet Seabright that -had occasionally floated through her mind now became painfully -confirmed. As she gazed chills and heats alternately shook her frame, -and then a strong, yearning compassion mingled with the high admiration -she had hitherto felt for the noble-souled girl, and she said to -herself: “I wonder if she knows it?” Then, looking at her more -attentively, she exclaimed inwardly: “No, no! she does not know or -suspect it! My soul upon it, she does not know or suspect it! No; there -is a high self-appreciation, a grandeur in her mien and air, a majesty -seated on that pure and lofty brow, unconscious of shame—unconscious of -the very possibility of shame! God shield her from the knowledge! for, -oh! as I look upon her noble presence now, I feel too surely that the -knowledge of her shame would kill her with a stroke swift, sharp, and -sure! God shield her from the knowledge! It were sacrilege to discrown -that imperial brow of its diadem of unsullied honor, and brand it with -shame instead. God shield the innocent from the knowledge of guilt which -is infamy! God shield her! Oh, I can now forgive my dead husband for -having cheated me out of this beautiful daughter, when I think he had -the grace to keep her innocent of the knowledge of her parentage and his -guilt. Yet how he must have loved her! Oh, doubtless many times when his -brow was overcast with gloom and sullenness, it was with the thought of -this child. He never confided his sins or his troubles to me. Would he -had! I could have been as much of a friend as a wife to him. Would he -had had faith enough in me, when the poor little one was orphaned, to -have laid her on my bosom instead of exiling her to that bleak isle! I -would have brought her up as my own. Did he dream that I would have been -otherwise than good to a little child? But he would not trust me. He -could tyrannize over me in a thousand useless ways, yet never could -venture to bring the motherless child to my arms. No; he could never -tell me until that night, when drunken both with brandy and bad -passions—he taunted me with the fact.” - -All these thoughts of Garnet’s parentage passed with the rapidity of -lightning through the mind of Mrs. Garnet, while Miss Seabright, with -outstretched hands and radiant countenance, was advancing toward her. - -“No; she must never know it! That pure, bright brow must never be -smirched and darkened by the burning, blackening smite of shame! Yet -shall she be another daughter to me,” concluded Alice, as she arose to -meet the bride. As Miss Seabright, being the taller of the two, bent to -welcome Mrs. Garnet, Alice threw one arm caressingly over her shoulder, -and saying: - -“We must not meet as strangers, my love,” kissed her cheek. - -Miss Seabright looked down with proud gravity upon the gentle lady for -an instant, and then said: - -“I have great pleasure in welcoming you back to your native halls, Mrs. -Garnet. Long may you live in the enjoyment of them!” - -“The enjoyment of which I owe to you, noble girl.” - -“Nay, madam; the long deprivation of which you owed to me, -unfortunately. The repossession of which now you owe to nobody—nothing. -It is simple justice.” - -“But it is not justice, thou noble girl, that thou, who wast brought up -in affluence——” - -“Nay, madam—I have known penury, too!” interrupted Miss Seabright, with -a sort of proud humility, if the phrase be admissible. - -Without noticing the interruption Mrs. Garnet resumed: - -“It is not justice that one educated in luxury, and in the prospect of -nearly boundless wealth, should be suddenly bereft of everything and -reduced to a position for which she is totally unfit.” - -“Oh, madam! pardon me. Had I not an example before me? Did not your own -admirable daughter resign wealth and station and go forth to a life of -toil and privation to preserve intact the integrity of her heart?” said -Garnet Seabright, with gentle dignity, waving her hand toward Mrs. -Hardcastle, who had withdrawn to a distant window during this colloquy. - -“Yes, to preserve the dignity of her heart, and the love of her -heart—which latter gave her strength to do as she did. Yes, and that was -scarcely a trial to Elsie, who possessed a cheerful, loving, and active -temperament, and was, besides, without your aspiring ambition. No, Miss -Seabright—nature, even more than education, has quite unfitted you for -the life of active household toil and privation, voluntarily assumed for -long years by Mrs. Hardcastle. No, Miss Seabright—justice, as well as -your own magnanimous conduct, has imposed this duty on me.” Miss Garnet -paused and, drawing from her pocket a roll of parchment, placed it in -the hands of the bride. - -“What is this?” asked Miss Seabright. - -“It is a deed of conveyance of property to the amount of one-tenth the -Mount Calm estate. Receive it, with my love, as a marriage portion.” - -“I cannot, madam,” said Miss Seabright, returning the deed. - -“Nay, take it—take it then as a mark of the high esteem—the honor I bear -you!” persisted Mrs. Garnet, tendering the packet. - -“No, I cannot take it, madam.” - -“Receive it, then, as your right, proud girl! Education and expectation -have given you a right to this Take it.” - -“Indeed, believe me, I cannot, madam; though from my soul I thank you,” -said Miss Seabright, with emotion. - -Mrs. Garnet looked discouraged for an instant, and then, as her glance -fell upon the bright and joyous form of Elsie, as she stood looking out -from the front window upon the spring scene, her eyes lighted up, and -she called to her: - -“Elsie, my love, come here. You have a gift of persuasion that I, with -all my good-will, never possessed.” - -Elsie came smiling forward. - -“Miss Seabright, this is my daughter, Mrs. Hardcastle.” (Ah, Heaven! if -they knew they were sisters!) - -As Miss Seabright bowed Mrs. Hardcastle threw her arm around her neck, -and kissed her heartily, exclaiming simply: - -“Oh, I wished to meet you so much! I shall be so glad to know you well!” - -“I called you here, my love, to aid me in persuading Miss Seabright to -suffer me to do her justice. You know——” - -“Yes, I know!” said Elsie, interposing her cheerful voice. “I know all -about it. See here, Miss Seabright! I never was crowned with -magnanimity, sublimity, enthusiasm, or the rest of the Godlike virtues -and frenzies! But I am gifted with some sound, good sense, which is ever -at the service of my friends, and I offer you a sample of it now. -Magnanimity is Godlike, until it is distorted into fanaticism, when it -is fool-like! It was magnanimous in you to give up the whole of this -estate. It would be fanatical to refuse to take the tenth of it when it -is offered to you.” - -The aptness of this argument seemed to strike Miss Seabright, for, -smiling, she replied: - -“I refer you to Dr. Hutton. I underwent such a course of lessons from -him upon the love of lucre, as opposed to the love of justice, that I -shall not forget it soon. Ha! I am not sure that, should I go to the -altar with a deed of any portion of this estate in my pocket, he would -not think I had backslidden in principles, and reject me even there!” - -Here Miss Joe, who, unperceived, had entered the room and came up to -them, interposed her voice, saying: - -“I wish he wouldn’t—I just do! I shouldn’t like to see Hugh make such a -fool of himself as that!” Then, patting Miss Seabright affectionately -upon the shoulder, she whispered, in a knowing, confidential tone: “You -take it yourself, honey. Who has got a better right to some o’ General -Garnet’s property than you? Sure, you’re his own flesh and blood! and -the image of him, too! You’re his own flesh and blood, honey. I know all -about it. It’s all in the little yellow hair trunk among the letters. -You take it, honey. You’re his own flesh and blood!” - -“Oh! Miss Joe, your rash words have destroyed—have blasted her!” -exclaimed Alice, in a voice of agony, as the old lady, having fired this -magazine, hurried out of the room quite heedless, because quite -unsuspicious of the impending ruin. - -And ruined indeed looked Miss Seabright, with every vestige of color -blasted from her marble-like face. Still as a statue of despair, she -stood with her dilated eyes immovably fixed upon the receding figure of -the old woman, until it had disappeared from the room. - -Then tossing back her bridal veil and springing forward she grasped the -hand of Mrs. Garnet, and, darting her wild gaze piercingly into the -lady’s gentle eyes, she asked hurriedly: - -“Did I—did I hear aright? What did she say?” - -“Nothing; do not mind her, Miss Seabright,” replied the lady, with a -flushed brow. - -“What did she say?” repeated Garnet. - -“Nothing! Nothing worth telling, my dear.” - -“Oh! I implore you, tell me what did she say?” - -“My dearest girl! nothing that it is well you should hear.” - -“Nay, then! I adjure you to tell me! By your soul’s truth, I adjure you -to tell me!” she persisted wildly. - -“She told you, dearest Garnet, that you were the daughter of my late -husband; but——” - -“Stay! am I so?” interrupted Garnet, in a voice of indescribable -anguish. - -“Yes—I believe so,” replied Alice gently. - -She dropped the hand she had grasped with such strength, and stood as if -suddenly turned to stone, for an instant—and then springing forward with -the wild energy of desperation, she exclaimed: - -“Unsay those words—or see me die before you.” - -Alice suddenly threw her arms around the form of the stricken girl, and, -catching her wild eyes, gazed into them deeply and tenderly as though -she would have transfused all her own sweet love and resignation into -that rampant soul, and said: - -“Dearest child! She told you only what we knew, and still loved you. -Dearest child! you are my husband’s daughter, and Elsie’s younger -sister—and we love you.” - -“The child of your husband and not your child! The younger sister of -your daughter, and you living!” exclaimed the wretched girl, sinking, -withering, shriveling as it were before the fell blast of this burning -and consuming revelation. At last she groaned forth in tones of -unutterable sorrow: “Oh! oh! was it right, Heaven! was it well, Heaven! -just as I had made a great sacrifice to duty, and achieved a great moral -victory; was it well to strike me in my pride of place, and bring me -down so low! so low!” Then with another spasmodic outbreak of energy, -she exclaimed: “Unsay those words! Unsay them, or see me die before you! -Take all I have—wealth, rank, prospects, hopes! all, all! but, for the -love of God, unsay those words! Take all, all! but leave me my honorable -name! Take all, all! but let me go an honored, if an humble bride, to my -husband’s home! Oh, for the pity of God!” - -Again Mrs. Garnet threw her arms around the cowering form of the -wretched girl, as though she would envelop, sustain, save her in this -trying moment, by the might of love; and saying: - -“My dearest Garnet! my love! my love! you shall go an honorable and an -honored bride to your husband’s home. One whom I will take to my bosom -thus—is a worthy match for any man. You should have been my own -daughter, Garnet, but that I was cheated out of you; but I claim you -now. You are my husband’s child, and the express image of his person; -therefore you should have been my child; therefore I claim you now to be -my child of right! I loved your father, Garnet! I love you! Believe me! -Do not cover your face, and turn it from me. Let me kiss you. Do not -grieve so.” - -“Grieve!” exclaimed the sinking girl, in a voice of anguish; “I do not -grieve, lady! I die! Grieve! Oh, look you, madam! If I had suffered the -loss of friends by death, or what is worse, by treachery; if I were -miserably poor, ill, and abandoned; if I were dying of disease, want, -and neglect; if I were misjudged, slandered, and persecuted; if I were -unjustly charged, falsely imprisoned, and innocently doomed to death; if -I were suffering any other anguish of mind, or agony of body, then I -might grieve—but now! now! that I know myself a living, breathing -monument of guilt!” A terrible shudder shook her frame and arrested her -speech—her form collapsed and sank more than before—and it was in a -dying voice she resumed: “Now that I know myself infected by worse than -leprosy”—she paused and looked at herself from head to foot; she -stretched forth her beautiful brown arm, frosted with pearls and -diamonds, and surveyed it; she gathered up the lurid ringlets of her -dark hair and gazed on them; then, dropping her arms wearily, she -continued—“I was not so vain as grateful for my beauty. But now! oh, -God! to think that every atom of flesh, and every drop of blood, and -every nerve and vein to my heart’s core is pervaded, permeated with sin -and reproach! sin and reproach! Oh, God! oh, God, quickly take back the -soul Thou didst send into this shape of sin!” - -Once more her form cowered, crushed beneath the overwhelming weight of -ignominy. She tottered and must have fallen to the floor, but that Elsie -sprang and aided her mother in supporting her to a sofa near. - -“I declare,” exclaimed Elsie, in her positive manner, “there should have -been no concealment; she should have grown up with the knowledge of her -parentage!” - -“Oh-h-h! doubtless,” murmured the nearly dying girl, “oh, doubtless they -should have told me of my birth! And then my soul would have grown up -familiarized with infamy, until it became as base as its proscribed -dwelling-place!” - -“But,” said Elsie, in her calm way, “is it possible you never suspected -this? Is it possible that, when you came home from school, with all your -faculties alive and keen, you could have looked upon my father’s -portrait, and looked upon your own reflection in the glass, and not be -struck by the resemblance, the identity of the two faces? Is it possible -that you did not suspect?” - -“Suspect this! suspect my birth! suspect my shame! Oh, woman, woman! you -found me proud and joyous! how could I have suspected this? You found me -living! how could I have suspected this and lived?” she exclaimed, in a -voice of indescribable grief and reproach, and then her form subsided, -as it were, prostrate, among the cushions. And so it was throughout the -scene; frequent convulsive outbreaks of anguish would be instantly -followed by the prostration of all strength. And then she lay with her -hands pressed upon her face a long time perfectly still, but for an -occasional start and shudder. She lay there, with Elsie sitting by her -side, until the clock struck eight—the marriage hour. Mrs. Garnet then -approached, and, kneeling by her, embraced and kissed her, saying: - -“My dear girl, my daughter, rouse yourself. The bitter trial of this -needless revelation has shocked you nearly to death. But it will pass -away, as all trials must, my love. Garnet, I, too, have had trials in my -time, heart-crushing disappointments and sorrows, from which I thought I -never could recover. But I have recovered, you see. My sorrows are gone, -long ago; gone down the stream of the past, and I have been happy for -years. So it will be with you. We all think our first sorrow is to kill -us, but it does not. We live and recover. So you will find it. This -sudden revelation has overwhelmed you, but you will get over it. We will -make you forget it. You will be an honorable and honored wife. You will -be loved and happy. Come, rouse yourself! Your marriage hour has struck. -Your husband waits you even now; come! Give me your hand! Garnet!” - -“My marriage hour has struck! My husband waits me now! Oh, madam, do you -then believe me base in soul as in birth?” exclaimed the miserable girl, -with bitterness. - -“In the name of Heaven, what mean you?” - -“Do you think that I, stripped of all other possessions, will carry my -dower of shame to my husband’s home?” - -“In the name of mercy, what do you mean?” asked Alice, in alarm. - -“Oh, merely this, that this marriage must not and shall not proceed! Oh, -no! Dr. Hutton must never blush for his wife’s parentage!” - -Mrs. Garnet glanced at Elsie in despair. Elsie here interposed her -blooming face and hopeful voice, saying: - -“Miss Seabright, as I told you before, I have no grand sentiments, but I -have some good sense, and it seems to me, as it takes two to make an -engagement, it takes two to break it, honestly; I think, as you have -plighted your troth to Hugh Hutton, you might consult him before -breaking faith with him, for such a cause, at the very last moment.” - -“Consult him!” said the poor girl, as the blood crimsoned her ashen -brow. “How can I consult him? And if I could, I know his self-immolating -generosity. I know, besides, that he loves me so, he would hold me to my -word; he loves me so, he would take the shame with me. Consult him! No, -no! for many reasons. But without consulting him, I will break with him; -since in breaking faith I shall wrong him less than in keeping it!” - -“Ah, Miss Seabright, that is sophistry! And sophistry is ingenious, but -it deceives no one. Duty is very simple, and it never can be mistaken. -But I hear the bridegroom and his friends approaching the door. Come, -rise! let me re-arrange your hair and wreath.” - -Mrs. Garnet opened the door, and admitted Dr. Hardcastle and Hugh -Hutton. Dr. Hardcastle went up to his wife, who drew him off to a -distant window, while Hugh Hutton, seeing his bride reclining, pale and -disordered, upon the sofa, hastened to her, stooped over, took her hand, -and gazed anxiously upon her, inquiring: - -“My dearest Garnet, what is the matter? Are you ill again?” - -She turned her face, whitened and sharpened with anguish, upon him, -gazed intently in his countenance, but said nothing for a full -minute—then, as by a new and sudden impulse, she exclaimed: - -“Hugh! I know my birth. Do you?” - -Dr. Hutton dropped her hand, frowned, and compressed his lips. - -Garnet’s features convulsed with a spasm of anguish, and she covered her -face with her hands. - -When Hugh Hutton saw that he dropped upon his knees at her side, removed -her hands, and kissed her pallid brow, saying: - -“I know that God created you a beautiful and high-souled woman. I know -that by no act of your life have you ever marred His creation. I seek to -know”—he broke forth with sudden energy—“I consent to know no more.” - -“Hugh,” she said, looking at him piteously, “an evil covered up is not -an evil cured. Hugh, this marriage must not go on.” - -“Nettie, you are insane!” - -“No, never more soberly, sadly sane than now.” - -“What! would you break your engagement to me—and at the last moment?” - -“Yes; for a sufficient reason.” - -“But I will not consent to it.” - -“I do not ask your consent. I break it.” - -“Nettie!” - -“Hugh! stoop down here! nearer—there. Hugh!” she said tenderly, running -her pale fingers through the dark waves of hair each side his massive -forehead, and holding his head between her hands as she gazed fondly in -his face—“Hugh! I know you love me. I have never doubted it one single -moment. And I do love you. So much—so much, Hugh, I love you so much -that, to save my own immortal soul I would not marry you.” - -“You dare not refuse me. I claim your plighted faith. I claim you for my -wife,” exclaimed Hugh Hutton passionately. - -“To save you I dare refuse you. To save you I dare break my plighted -faith, and take the sin upon my own soul. Hugh! dear Hugh! in one great -contest I yielded to you, because high principle was on your side. But -this is a different matter; I am as inexorable as Death.” - -“Nettie! Nettie! I am strong; but your loss would paralyze me. But oh! -it cannot be. I will never, never leave you nor forsake you. If I do, -may God abandon my own soul!” - -Her features were convulsed again, and for a moment she concealed them -with her hands; then laying her hands tenderly upon the head of her -kneeling companion, she said: - -“It does not matter much for me, for I think that death is upon me—but -for you, Hugh—oh, it is hard, it is hard for you. It is hard for you, so -good and true, so noble as you are, to be so grievously wronged by -disappointment. Oh! it shakes one’s faith in goodness, in Heaven. But I -love you so—I love you so that I will pray God, living or dying, I will -pray God to give you another love, another wife, who shall be worthy of -you.” - -“By Heaven! I will have no other wife but you. And you will I have!” -exclaimed Hugh Hutton, forgetting the presence of others, and speaking -so loud as to startle Mrs. Garnet, who came forward and said: - -“Oh, Hugh! my dear friend, is not this a trouble? What shall we do to -persuade her?” - -“Dear friend, leave me alone with her for a little while. God has -deputed to me some power over His self-willed child—this noble but -stubborn girl. Leave me with her.” - -Mrs. Garnet turned to go, but was met near the door by Miss Joe, who -bustled in, and, nudging the lady’s elbow, whispered to her, saying: - -“I say! aint it time for them all to walk down? The parson—Parson -Sinclair—has been come for half an hour, and the company downstairs is -getting out o’ patience. Besides, if the ceremony don’t make haste and -get performed, the breakfast will get spoiled—the coffee will boil all -its strength away, and the batter for the rice waffles will rise so much -it will turn sour. What are they all waiting for?” - -“Nothing. And I do not know that there will be any marriage,” replied -Mrs. Garnet sternly and bitterly. - -“Hugh, what is the matter?” exclaimed Miss Joe, looking around in -surprise. Then, perceiving the recumbent form of Miss Seabright, with -Dr. Hutton still kneeling by her, she inquired: “Dear me! What ails -Garnet?” - -“You have ruined her peace forever,” indignantly exclaimed Mrs. Garnet, -unable to forbear reproaches. “You have killed her with your -uncalled-for revelations.” - -“Me! ruined what? killed which?” exclaimed the innocent old lady, in -perplexity. - -“Garnet Seabright. I say you have killed her.” - -“Killed her! why I haint even tetched her. I haint done a thing to her; -I haint harmed a hair of her head. I haint been a-nigh her. She was well -enough when I come through here with the napkins.” - -“Words kill! You told her the secret of her birth. You told her she was -General Garnet’s child, and the shock and the shame have overwhelmed, -have killed her.” - -The old lady listened with her eyes starting out of her head, and her -mouth wide open with unmeasured astonishment, and then exclaimed: - -“Me! Me tell her she was General Garnet’s child! Why, I didn’t do no -such thing! Who says I did?” - -“I! I heard you with my own ears.” - -“Why, you didn’t hear any such a thing! High! how could I tell such a -lie as that, when it wa’n’t the truth?” - -Mrs. Garnet, in her turn, stared with such unbounded astonishment and -incredulity, that the old lady took high offense, and exclaimed: - -“Well! upon my word! Next time it lightens, I shouldn’t wonder if you -accused me of setting the clouds afire. Come! if you don’t b’lieve me, -there’s the young gal herself. Go ask her now. She aint dying neither, -no more ’an I am. She looks gashly as a corpse, to be sure, but Lord! -I’ve seen her look that way afore, when she’d get into her tantrums long -o’ her guardian or Hugh. Come! I’ll go;” and the old lady waddled -precipitately across the room to the sofa, exclaiming wrathfully, “Miss -Seabright! Garnet Seabright, I say! Now, did ever I tell you such a -falsity as that you were General Garnet’s child?” - -Dr. Hutton started up from his kneeling posture, and stood staring at -the excited old lady. Garnet sprang up from the cushions, and gazed at -her face with all her soul in her eyes. - -“My goodness, child; don’t stare at me so wild! You’ll give me the fever -‘n’ ague. Answer my question.” - -Here Dr. and Mrs. Hardcastle were attracted to the scene of action. - -“Can’t you speak? Did ever I say you were General Garnet’s child?” - -“Did—you—not—say—so?” asked Miss Seabright, with life and death -struggling in her bosom. - -“No! I did not say so. How could I tell such a lie, when it wasn’t the -truth?” - -“And—he—was—not—my—father?” - -“I wish people wouldn’t be slandering of your poor, dear mother! poor, -little, wild thing. She was distantly connected with myself.” - -“But,” said Elsie, interposing, “no one raised a doubt but yourself, -Miss Joe, and we would like to hear you explain your words, that gave -rise to all this trouble.” - -“Words! what words?” - -“The words you whispered to Miss Seabright when you passed through the -room an hour ago.” - -“Oh! yes. Why, I telled her she might well have a share o’ the property, -seein’ how she was General Garnet’s granddaughter.” - -“General Garnet’s granddaughter!” exclaimed everyone. - -“Yes. Don’t all talk to me at the same time, you ’fuse my head. I -declare, if my heart aint as big as a batch of light dough, and my head -goes round like a coffee-mill! That ’minds me of the breakfast—’deed it -will get spoiled.” - -“But you did not tell her that she was General Garnet’s granddaughter. -It was something else you told her,” said Elsie. - -“I—don’t ’fuse my mind. I don’t ’member what the words were, but that’s -what the meaning was.” - -“I remember what the words were exactly,” said Elsie; “she said she was -‘his own flesh and blood.’” - -“To be sure I did; that’s just what I did say. It’s all in the little -yellow hair trunk—her mother’s little yellow hair trunk. I never knowed -anything about it until I come here to live, because I never had no -chance to fool my time away ransacking of old papers afore. If you’ll -all stop talking to me, I’ll tell you all about it, and you can read the -rest. You see, General Garnet, when he was a boy about seventeen or -eighteen years old, he falls in love long of a poor gal, and marries her -secretly. In about a year arter this, the poor gal she died, leaving of -a young infant son. Then General Garnet—he was Mr. Garnet then—he being -a wild young man, and not wanting to be bothered with children, he puts -this child out to nurse, and goes off and forgets all about it. But the -boy, as he grew up, he knew, somehow, who his father was, and sort o’ -always had a hankering arter finding him. Well, he didn’t meet his -father till he listed in the wars, when he was no more than fourteen -years of age; and he served under him the whole length of the war; and -though General Garnet—he was Captain Garnet then—being a handsome, -dashing, gay young officer, would not acknowledge or even notice this -son, yet the boy seemed to worship the very earth his father walked on. -He seemed to live but for one thing in the world—to love and serve his -handsome but unnatural father. He watched over the safety of his life -and his honor. Twice he saved his father’s honor at the loss of his own -reputation; and that was the reason why he never got to be anything -better ’an a corporal all the time he sarved in the war. I’ll tell you -all about it some time, or else you can read it all in the old letters -in the little yellow hair trunk. Well, and at last he saved his father’s -life, at the expense of a dreadful wound, that, arter years of illness, -caused his death. Well, this boy—though his father didn’t set any store -to him, and his comrades didn’t vally him as they ought to ’a done—was -thought a heap on by my wild little cousin. And so, when he come from -the wars, wounded, and feeble, and broken-hearted, she stole away to -him, and they were married. She said she could work for both, and she -did work for both till he died. Well, arter the poor misfortunate young -man was dead and gone, I suppose General Garnet’s conscience, as had -been stone dead long before, had a resurrection, or else the ghost of -his murdered conscience haunted him, for he paid a visit to the young -widow, and found her grieving herself to death. Well, he made a whole -parcel o’ splendid promises as he never fulfilled. And when the poor -young thing died, leaving her little darter in his care, he jest passed -her over to me as a great favor, and that was the very last I ever saw -or heard of him or his promises till he quarreled long o’ his own -darter, and then he comed over and ’dopted Nettie. You see, God never -could prevail with him to do anything, but the devil could make him do -as he pleased.” - -“There, there, Miss Joe, that will do,” interrupted Mrs. Garnet, to whom -these severe reflections were deeply painful. “Never, Miss Joe, cast -unnecessary reproach upon the memory of the dumb, defenseless dead.” - -“I won’t. I am sure if the Lord pardons him, we can. I won’t say any -more. Only if you want to know all the particulars, you see, you can -read the letters in the little yellow hair trunk. And that’s the end of -the story; and now I know the coffee is spoiled.” - -“Garnet, you have a right to blush for your parentage—but let it be a -blush of enthusiasm, for never have I heard of two such disinterested -souls,” said Dr. Hardcastle, shaking her hand with cordial sympathy. - -Hugh Hutton said nothing as yet, but stood by her, pouring all his -earnest, loving soul through the gaze he fixed upon her face. And -she—down her cheeks the tears had poured like rain. But now that copious -and refreshing shower was over and the sun of gladness shone out again, -Garnet smiled brightly, while yet the tears sparkled like rain-drops on -her ringlets. Mrs. Hardcastle, with her cheerful blooming expression, -was standing behind her quietly rearranging the disordered wreath and -veil. Mrs. Garnet went to the door of the adjoining room, and beckoned -the two young ladies who were to act as bridesmaids. Dr. Hardcastle -opened the hall door and admitted the groomsmen, who entered and gave -their arms to the young bridesmaids. Hugh Hutton took the hand of -Garnet, and, when she arose, Elsie arranged the folds of her robe, and -whispered: - -“Never mind if you are very pale and agitated, dear; it is not so -unbefitting a bride—besides, your veil is down, you know.” - -The bridal party moved onward downstairs. As Dr. Hardcastle followed -with his wife, he turned to her with an arch look, and whispered: - -“My dear Elsie, there is an old acquaintance of yours below stairs.” - -“Many of them, I suspect.” - -“Yes, but this one is an uninvited, unexpected, but most welcome guest.” - -“Whom?” - -“The Honorable Ulysses Roebuck!” - -“‘The Honorable Ulysses Roebuck!’ I remember ‘Marse Useless,’ as the -negroes used to call him; but how on earth became he ‘Honorable’?” - -Dr. Hardcastle shrugged his shoulders, elevated his eyebrows with a -queer smile, and answered: - -“I really suppose just as more of our Honorables become so. He failed at -everything useful, went to a distant part of the State, took to -politics, made stump-speeches ‘full of sound and fury, signifying -nothing’ and got himself sent to Congress. After an absence of ten years -he has just now revisited his native neighborhood. He reached Point -Pleasant by the early boat this morning, and, finding that the family -were all here, he followed them, and is here also.” - -“And his old ladylove, who jilted him to marry my father, and lost both, -and who must be now near twenty-eight years of age—how did she receive -him? I should like to have seen that meeting!” - -“I saw it. When he first entered the saloon he was caught in the arms of -Judge Jacky, who ran to him and rapturously embraced him, overwhelming -him with welcomes. Then, when released from the old gentleman’s arms, he -shook hands with all his friends and acquaintances, looking uneasily -around the room all the while, as if in search of someone else. At last -his flying glances alighted on the distant form of Ambrosia, standing -near the fireplace. He made her a formal bow, which she acknowledged by -a cold courtesy!” - -“After a lover’s quarrel and a separation of ten years! That is a -first-rate sign, Magnus; I should not wonder if he had cherished her -image in his heart through all those years.” - -“Well, they had not even spoken when I came away.” - -“Better and better! I shall not be surprised if he propose for her -before the day is over.” - -They had now reached the saloon where the bridal party were already -ranging themselves before the clergyman, who was no other than our -oldest friend, the Rev. Milton Sinclair. - -“See!” whispered Dr. Hardcastle, pointing to where Miss Wylie sat -gloomily at one end of the room, and Mr. Roebuck morosely at the other; -“see! I do not believe they have spoken yet.” - -“I believe they’ll be married in a week!” laughed Elsie. - -But the clergyman had opened his book, the ceremony was about to -commence, and all became silent and profoundly attentive while it -progressed. It was over, and friends crowded around to offer their -congratulations to the newly-married pair. In the crowd Ulysses Roebuck, -Mrs. Hardcastle, and Ambrosia Wylie got pressed together. - -“I declare!” exclaimed Elsie, with her cheerful, ringing tones, “if here -are not two of my old, old playmates!” And seizing a hand of each, she -shook them heartily; then joining those two hands in hers, she said, -“Let me be the mediator. Be friends, as you long to be!” and slipped -away, leaving them together. - -“Shall we be friends? Shall we be more to each other, Ambrosia?” said -Ulysses, pressing her hand. - -“Yes; if you can forgive the infidelity caused by ambition, and expiated -by whole years of suffering!” - -“I have waited for you ten years, Ambrosia. I should think that an -answer. Come! let’s go to the bay window and talk over old times!” - -“Not now; the company are going in to breakfast,” replied Ambrosia, -taking his arm; and they followed in the wake of the foremost. Mrs. -Garnet approached the clergyman, who still lingered as if lost in -abstraction. - -“Mr. Sinclair,” she said, “it gives me great happiness to see you back -here and settled in our parish. I am much pleased, also, to welcome you -to our house. The company have gone in to breakfast; will you come?” Mr. -Sinclair bowed in grave silence, gave the lady his arm, and they -followed the others. - -Breakfast was over. The traveling carriage of Mount Calm was packed and -at the door to convey the newly-married couple to the stage office at -Huttontown, whence they were to start for the West. The family party, -consisting of Mrs. Garnet, Dr. and Mrs. Hardcastle, and the bride and -groom, were grouped for a last leave-taking in the passage, when Miss -Joe suddenly appeared among them, in her poke bonnet and brown shawl, -with a bandbox in one hand and a basket in the other, and followed by a -negro man, bending under the weight of a great trunk. When the little -party stared with surprise, she exclaimed: - -“Well, now, you needn’t look so queer, all of you, cause I couldn’t help -of it! I’ve been a-struggling and a-struggling with my feelings, and I -couldn’t help of it! I’m gwine long o’ Hugh and Nettie. They’re like my -own children, ’cause I took care of them when they were little! And I’m -gwine long o’ them. Besides, long as they’re poor, they’ll want somebody -to help them work. It aint much I can do now, seeing I’m nigh on to -seventy years old. But, leastways, I can mend their clothes, and darn -the children’s stockings, and mind the baby, and so on.” - -There was no time for much argument now; but to all that Mrs. Garnet and -the Hardcastles could say to prevail on her to remain at Mount Calm the -old lady turned a deaf ear. She was set to go with Hugh and Nettie, -because they were like her own children, and because they were poor. - -“But they are not poor,” said Mrs. Garnet; “and, oh! that reminds me—I -have the deed of gift yet,” continued the lady, producing the deed from -her pocket, and placing it in the hands of Dr. Hutton. - -“What is this, madam?” he asked, examining the parchment. - -“It is merely a dower with your bride,” said the lady. - -“It is a deed of conveyance, Hugh, investing me with properties to the -amount of one-tenth the great Mount Calm estate. Can I take it?” - -“No, dearest—no, you cannot!” replied Dr. Hutton, pressing her hand; -then, turning to the lady, he said: “Mrs. Garnet, we sincerely thank -you. This generosity is so like yourself that we are not surprised at -it, while we must gratefully decline it.” - -As no arguments could move Hugh Hutton from his resolution, the effort -was at last abandoned. - -The carriage, into which Miss Joe was packed, drew up nearer to the -door. Garnet embraced her friends successively. Hugh Hutton shook hands -with them in turn, and handed his bride into the carriage. The steps -were put up, the door closed, and the carriage rolled away. - - * * * * * - -Mrs. Garnet continued to reside at Mount Calm, happy in her vocation of -“Lady Bountiful” to the neighborhood—happy, that is to say, as long as -the fine weather of spring, summer, and autumn last, during which, in -her missions of usefulness or benevolence, she could walk, ride, or -drive through the most beautiful country in the world; but, when winter -came, with its wind and rain, and hail and snowstorms, its impassable -roads, and its long spells of tempestuous or intensely cold weather, and -its longer seasons of enforced confinement within-doors, the lonely lady -of Mount Calm found the solitary grandeur of her mansion house dreary -enough. The minister had been her coadjutor, and often her companion, in -her labors of beneficence, during the preceding eight or ten months; and -now, in the stormy winter weather, he was her willing representative and -almoner among the sick, the poor, and the suffering. No fury of tempest -overhead, or depth of snow, or quagmire under foot, could interrupt the -weekly visits of the pastor to the lady. The solitary lady knew this; -and so, even in the most frightful weather, during the darkest, -dreariest, and loneliest seasons, there was one day in the week to which -she could look forward with certainty of enjoyment—namely, to Wednesday, -when, let the wind and the rain, the hail and the snow, do what it might -to prevent him, the minister was sure to present himself at Mount Calm. -Each Wednesday evening it became more painful for these two friends to -part, and the parting was protracted to a later hour. One very stormy -night in February, when he had lingered by her fireside later than ever -before, and had at last risen to take leave, he detained her hand in his -a long time in silence, and then faltered: “Alice, are we never to be -more to each other than now?” The lady shook her head in mournful -negation, and there was a “soul’s tragedy” in the tone wherewith she -answered simply: “We are old, now!” The timid proposition was not -renewed then; the shyness of age, worse than the shyness of youth, -silenced the lips of the minister. The proposal probably never would -have been renewed, but for the intervention of the cordial-hearted -Elsie—that happy, healthful, sworn foe to all morbid scruples and -needless suffering. She had been made acquainted with her mother’s early -history, and for years past she had watched over the delicate lady with -more care and tenderness than over any of her own robust and blooming -babies. Now that she was divided from her, she felt increased solicitude -for the welfare of the fragile, sensitive recluse. It was toward the -spring that she was awakened to a knowledge of the attachment existing -between the lady and the pastor; and, after taking observation for a few -days, she one day said to her mother: “Mother, why don’t you marry the -minister?” - -“Dear Elsie, what could suggest such an absurd thing to your mind? What -would the neighbors say? At our age, too!” - -“Dearest mother, they may wonder a little; but, upon the whole, they -will be well pleased. Besides, shall their wonder prevent you being -comfortable? You need each other’s society—you and the minister. You are -both so lonely—you in your mansion, he in his lodgings; you need each -other. Come! accept him, mother. Magnus and I will give you our -blessing,” laughed Elsie; and then, immediately regretting her -involuntary levity, she said seriously: “Dear mother, think of this. You -have reached the summit-point of life; before you lies the descent into -the vale of years; your old friend stands on the same ground, with the -same road before him. Give your hand to your dear old friend, and go ye -down the vale together.” - -Elsie was successful in her efforts. Before another winter the lady and -the minister were married; and thenceforward the serene and beautiful -life of the pair gave a poetic fitness to the name of their homestead, -“Mount Calm.” - -Dr. and Mrs. Hardcastle made Hemlock Hollow their place of permanent -residence. They erected an elegant mansion, and improved and adorned the -grounds with such artistic taste that it was considered one of the most -beautiful seats in old St. Mary’s. - -The Honorable Ulysses and Mrs. Roebuck spent their summers at Point -Pleasant, and their winters in the metropolis, until the Honorable -Ulysses grew weary of political life and careless of popularity, and -lost his election, when they took up their permanent abode at the Point, -with Judge Jacky Wylie. - -And the families of Hemlock Hollow, Mount Calm, and Point Pleasant -formed an intimate social circle, and kept up their agreeable relations -after the St. Mary’s fashion of family dinner-parties, social -tea-drinkings, fish feasts upon the coast, fox-hunts among the -gentlemen, neighborhood dances, etc.; while the gentle, but powerful -influence emanating from Mount Calm spread the spirit of religion over -all. - -Dr. and Mrs. Hutton eventually settled in a Southern State. Miss Joe -Cotter remained with them to the end of her long life. Consistent in her -economy to the very last, she devoted the remaining years of her life to -“laying up treasures in heaven.” Dr. Hutton became one of the most -celebrated physicians in the country, and amassed a large fortune. Mrs. -Hutton became one of the brightest stars in the great Southern -constellation of beauty, genius, and fashion. Their home is a beautiful -edifice on the banks of a Southern lake, within easy distance of the -city. For elegance, taste, and luxury it is scarcely excelled by the -far-famed palaces of the Old World. From his present affluent ease Dr. -Hutton delights to look back upon his early struggles, and he repeats -now, with more emphasis than before, that, “A young American should -never permit himself to depend upon the accidents of fortune for success -in life; for in our prosperous country a man of good health and good -habits need never fail to make an independence for himself and family, -and to win the blessing of God.” - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - Grosset & Dunlap’s Popular - Series of Standard Books - - - * * * * * - -A series of 12mos of distinctive character and appearance, comprising -judiciously selected titles, indorsed by the foremost critics, and -approved by generations of readers. Beautifully printed on fine book -paper, and handsomely bound in cloth with strikingly artistic cover -designs. - - * * * * * - - Price, 50 cents per volume, postpaid. - - * * * * * - - AESOP’S FABLES - - ANDERSEN, HANS CHRISTIAN - Fairy Tales and Stories - - BARRIE, J. M. - The Little Minister - - BELL, J. J. - Wee Macgreegor - - BESANT AND RICE - All Sorts and Conditions of Man - - BRONTE, CHARLOTTE - Jane Eyre - - BULWER-LYTTON - The Last Days of Pompeii - - BUNYAN, JOHN - Pilgrim’s Progress - - CAREY, ROSA NOUCHETTE - Aunt Diana - Averil - Merle’s Crusade - Not Like Other Girls - Only the Governess - - CARROLL, LEWIS - Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass. The two volumes - in one - - CONNOR, RALPH - Black Rock - - COOPER, J. 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CHARLES M. - Crucifixion of Philip Strong - In His Steps - Robert Hardy’s Seven Days - - STEVENSON, R. L. - Treasure Island - - STOWE, HARRIET BEECHER - Uncle Tom’s Cabin - - THOMPSON, D. P. - Green Mountain Boys - - WAGNER, CHARLES - The Simple Life - - WARNER, SUSAN - The Wide, Wide World - - WOOD, MRS. HENRY - East Lynne - - WYSS, JOHANN RUDOLF - Swiss Family Robinson - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - The Southworth Series - - - * * * * * - -Comprising ten of the most popular works of Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth. -Many mothers can remember with what pleasure they pored over the -captivating novels of Mrs. Southworth when they were girls, and how -impatiently they waited from week to week for the instalments of their -favorite stories. They are read with the same eagerness by the daughters -of to-day, and will be as eagerly read by their children’s children. -They are splendid stories of American life, manners, customs and -institutions. - -Attractively bound in cloth, with colored picture inlay on cover. Coated -paper wrapper, printed in colors. - - * * * * * - - Price, 50 cents per volume, postpaid. - - * * * * * - - THE CHANGED BRIDES; Or, Winning Her Way. - THE BRIDE’S FATE; Sequel to “The Changed Brides.” - CRUEL AS THE GRAVE. - TRIED FOR HER LIFE; Sequel to “Cruel as the Grave.” - THE DISCARDED DAUGHTER; Or, The Children of the Isle. - THE HIDDEN HAND; Complete in one volume. - ISHMAEL; Or, In the Depths. - SELF-RAISED; Or, From the Depths. Sequel to “Ishmael.” - THE MISSING BRIDE; Or, Miriam, the Avenger. - VIVIA; Or, The Secret of Power. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - The L. T. Meade Series - - - * * * * * - -The popularity of these charming tales for girls increases as the years -go by, and the present edition we believe to be the best ever offered at -a moderate price. Thirty-nine titles—many of them copyrighted. - -12 mo. Handsomely bound in cloth of bright colors with beautiful picture -inlay in full color on front cover. Coated paper wrapper, printed in -colors. - - * * * * * - - Price, 50 cents per volume, postpaid. - - Bad Little Hannah - Bashful Fifteen - Betty: A Schoolgirl - Betty of the Rectory - Bevy of Girls, A - Bunch of Cherries, A - Children of Wilton Chase - Children’s Pilgrimage, The - Daddy’s Girl - Deb and the Duchess - Four On An Island - Gay Charmer, A - Girl in Ten Thousand, A - Girls, New and Old - Girls of Mrs. Pritchard’s School - Girls of St. Wodes, The - Girls of the True Blue - Good Luck - In Time of Roses - Light o’ the Morning - Little Mother to the Others, A - Madcap, A - Manor School, The - Merry Girls of England - Miss Nonentity - Modern Tom Boy, A - Out of the Fashion - Palace Beautiful, The - Polly: A New Fashioned Girl - Rebellion of Lil Carrington, The - Red Rose and Tiger Lily - Ring of Rubies, A - Sweet Girl Graduate, A - Temptation of Olive Latimer, The - Turquoise and Ruby - Very Naughty Girl, A - Wild Kitty - World of Girls, A - Young Mutineer, A - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - The Popular Novels of - MARY J. 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Illustrated by Wallace - Morgan. - -A Cape Cod story describing the amusing efforts of an elderly bachelor -and his two cronies to rear and educate a little girl. Full of honest -fun—a rural drama. - - THE FORGE IN THE FOREST. By Charles G. D. Roberts. Illustrated by H. - Sandham. - -A story of the conflict in Acadia after its conquest by the British. A -dramatic picture that lives and shines with the indefinable charm of -poetic romance. - - A SISTER TO EVANGELINE. By Charles G. D. Roberts. Illustrated by E. - McConnell. - -Being the story of Yvonne de Lamourie, and how she went into exile with -the villagers of Grand Prè. Swift action, fresh atmosphere, wholesome -purity, deep passion and searching analysis characterize this strong -novel. - - THE OPENED SHUTTERS. By Clara Louise Burnham. Frontispiece by Harrison - Fisher. - -A summer haunt on an island in Casco Bay is the background for this -romance. A beautiful woman, at discord with life, is brought to realize, -by her new friends, that she may open the shutters of her soul to the -blessed sunlight of joy by casting aside vanity and self love. A -delicately humorous work with a lofty motive underlying it all. - - THE RIGHT PRINCESS. By Clara Louise Burnham. - -An amusing story, opening at a fashionable Long Island resort, where a -stately Englishwoman employs a forcible New England housekeeper to serve -in her interesting home. How types so widely apart react on each others’ -lives, all to ultimate good, makes a story both humorous and rich in -sentiment. - - THE LEAVEN OF LOVE. By Clara Louise Burnham. Frontispiece by Harrison - Fisher. - -At a Southern California resort a world-weary woman, young and beautiful -but disillusioned, meets a girl who has learned the art of living—of -tasting life in all its richness, opulence and joy. The story hinges -upon the change wrought in the soul of the blasé woman by this glimpse -into a cheery life. - - QUINCY ADAMS SAWYER. A Picture of New England Home Life. With - illustrations by C. W. Reed, and Scenes Reproduced from the Play. - -One of the best New England stories ever written. It is full of homely -human interest * * * there is a wealth of New England village character, -scenes and incidents * * * forcibly, vividly and truthfully drawn. Few -books have enjoyed a greater sale and popularity. Dramatized, it made -the greatest rural play of recent times. - - THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF QUINCY ADAMS SAWYER. By Charles Felton - Pidgin. Illustrated by Henry Roth. - -All who love honest sentiment, quaint and sunny humor, and homespun -philosophy will find these “Further Adventures” a book after their own -heart. - - HALF A CHANCE. By Frederic S. Isham. Illustrated by Herman Pfeifer. - -The thrill of excitement will keep the reader in a state of suspense, -and he will become personally concerned from the start, as to the -central character, a very real man who suffers, dares—and achieves! - - VIRGINIA OF THE AIR LANES. By Herbert Quick. Illustrated by William R. - Leigh. - -The author has seized the romantic moment for the airship novel, and -created the pretty story of “a lover and his lass” contending with an -elderly relative for the monopoly of the skies. An exciting tale of -adventure in midair. - - THE GAME AND THE CANDLE. By Eleanor M. Ingram. Illustrated by P. D. - Johnson. - -The hero is a young American, who, to save his family from poverty, -deliberately commits a felony. Then follow his capture and imprisonment, -and his rescue by a Russian Grand Duke. A stirring story, rich in -sentiment. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - A FEW OF - GROSSET & DUNLAP’S - Great Books at Little Prices - NEW, CLEVER, ENTERTAINING. - - - * * * * * - - GRET: The Story of a Pagan. By Beatrice Mantle. Illustrated by C. M. - Relyea. - -The wild free life of an Oregon lumber camp furnishes the setting for -this strong original story. Gret is the daughter of the camp and is -utterly content with the wild life—until love comes. A fine book, -unmarred by convention. - - OLD CHESTER TALES. By Margaret Deland. Illustrated by Howard Pyle. - -A vivid yet delicate portrayal of characters in an old New England town. - -Dr. Lavendar’s fine, kindly wisdom is brought to bear upon the lives of -all, permeating the whole volume like the pungent odor of pine, -healthful and life giving. “Old Chester Tales” will surely be among the -books that abide. - - THE MEMOIRS OF A BABY. By Josephine Daskam. Illustrated by F. Y. Cory. - -The dawning intelligence of the baby was grappled with by its great -aunt, an elderly maiden, whose book knowledge of babies was something at -which even the infant himself winked. A delicious bit of humor. - - REBECCA MARY. By Annie Hamilton Donnell. Illustrated by Elizabeth - Shippen Green. - -The heart tragedies of this little girl with no one near to share them, -are told with a delicate art, a keen appreciation of the needs of the -childish heart and a humorous knowledge of the workings of the childish -mind. - - THE FLY ON THE WHEEL. By Katherine Cecil Thurston. Frontispiece by - Harrison Fisher. - -An Irish story of real power, perfect in development and showing a true -conception of the spirited Hibernian character as displayed in the -tragic as well as the tender phases of life. - - THE MAN FROM BRODNEY’S. By George Barr McCutcheon. Illustrated by - Harrison Fisher. - -An island in the South Sea is the setting for this entertaining tale, -and an all-conquering hero and a beautiful princess figure in a most -complicated plot. One of Mr. McCutcheon’s best books. - - TOLD BY UNCLE REMUS. By Joel Chandler Harris. Illustrated by A. B. - Frost, J. M. Conde and Frank Verbeck. - -Again Uncle Remus enters the fields of childhood, and leads another -little boy to that non-locatable land called “Brer Rabbit’s Laughing -Place,” and again the quaint animals spring into active life and play -their parts, for the edification of a small but appreciative audience. - - THE CLIMBER. By E. F. Benson. With frontispiece. - -An unsparing analysis of an ambitious woman’s soul—a woman who believed -that in social supremacy she would find happiness, and who finds instead -the utter despair of one who has chosen the things that pass away. - - LYNCH’S DAUGHTER. By Leonard Merrick. Illustrated by Geo. Brehm. - -A story of to-day, telling how a rich girl acquires ideals of beautiful -and simple living, and of men and love, quite apart from the teachings -of her father, “Old Man Lynch” of Wall St. True to life, clever in -treatment. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - GROSSET & DUNLAP’S - DRAMATIZED NOVELS - A Few that are Making Theatrical History - - - * * * * * - - MARY JANE’S PA. By Norman Way. Illustrated with scenes from the play. - -Delightful, irresponsible “Mary Jane’s Pa” awakes one morning to find -himself famous, and, genius being ill adapted to domestic joys, he -wanders from home to work out his own unique destiny. One of the most -humorous bits of recent fiction. - - CHERUB DEVINE. By Sewell Ford. - -“Cherub,” a good hearted but not over refined young man is brought in -touch with the aristocracy. Of sprightly wit, he is sometimes a -merciless analyst, but he proves in the end that manhood counts for more -than ancient lineage by winning the love of the fairest girl in the -flock. - - A WOMAN’S WAY. By Charles Somerville. Illustrated with scenes from the - play. - -A story in which a woman’s wit and self-sacrificing love save her -husband from the toils of an adventuress, and change an apparently -tragic situation into one of delicious comedy. - - THE CLIMAX. By George C. Jenks. - -With ambition luring her on, a young choir soprano leaves the little -village where she was born and the limited audience of St. Jude’s to -train for the opera in New York. She leaves love behind her and meets -love more ardent but not more sincere in her new environment. How she -works, how she studies, how she suffers, are vividly portrayed. - - A FOOL THERE WAS. By Porter Emerson Browne. Illustrated by Edmund - Magrath and W. W. Fawcett. - -A relentless portrayal of the career of a man who comes under the -influence of a beautiful but evil woman; how she lures him on and on, -how he struggles, falls and rises, only to fall again into her net, make -a story of unflinching realism. - - THE SQUAW MAN. By Julie Opp Faversham and Edwin Milton Royle. - Illustrated with scenes from the play. - -A glowing story, rapid in action, bright in dialogue with a fine -courageous hero and a beautiful English heroine. - - THE GIRL IN WAITING. By Archibald Fyre. Illustrated with scenes from - the play. - -A droll little comedy of misunderstandings, told with a light touch, a -venturesome spirit and an eye for human oddities. - - The Scarlet Pimpernel. By Baroness Orczy. Illustrated with scenes from - the play. - -A realistic story of the days of the French Revolution, abounding in -dramatic incident, with a young English soldier of fortune, daring, -mysterious as the hero. - - * * * * * - - GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26TH ST., NEW YORK - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES - - - 1. Silently corrected obvious typographical errors and variations in - spelling. - 2. Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed. - 3. 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