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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76591 ***
+
+
+
+
+
+                                  THE
+                             DESERTED WIFE.
+
+
+                                   BY
+
+                     EMMA D. E. NEVITT SOUTHWORTH,
+
+                               AUTHOR OF
+
+                 “RETRIBUTION, OR THE VALE OF SHADOWS.”
+
+      “Various the ways in which our souls are tried;
+      Love often fails where most our faith relied;
+      Some wayward heart may win without a thought,
+      That which thine own by sacrifice hath bought;
+      Whilst thou, forsaken, grieving, left to pine,
+      Vainly mayst claim his plighted faith as thine;
+      Vainly with forced indulgence strive to smile
+      In the cold world, heart-broken all the while,
+      Or from its glittering and unquiet crowd,
+      Thy brain on fire, thy spirit crushed and bowed,
+      Creep home unnoticed, there to weep alone,
+      Mocked by a claim that gives thee not thine own,
+      Which leaves thee bound through all thy blighted youth
+      To him whose perjured soul hath broke its truth;
+      While the just world beholding thee bereft—
+      Scorns—not his sin—but _thee_, for being left.”
+                                              MRS. NORTON’S DREAM.
+
+                               NEW YORK:
+                  D. APPLETON & COMPANY, 200 BROADWAY.
+                             PHILADELPHIA:
+                 GEO. S. APPLETON, 164 CHESNUT-STREET.
+                               M DCCC L.
+
+
+
+
+       Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1850,
+                        BY D. APPLETON & COMPANY,
+ In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States for the
+                      Southern District of New York.
+
+
+
+
+                                   TO
+
+                         DOCTOR WILLIAM ELDER,
+
+                            OF PHILADELPHIA,
+
+            WHOSE CONSTANT ASSISTANCE AND KIND ENCOURAGEMENT
+
+                  CHEERED, INSPIRED, AND SUSTAINED HER
+
+             THROUGH THE TOILS AND TRIALS OF HER VOCATION,
+
+                        This Book is Inscribed,
+
+              AS AN ASSURANCE OF GRATEFUL REMEMBRANCE, BY
+
+                              THE AUTHOR.
+
+  WASHINGTON, JUNE 3, 1850.
+
+
+
+
+                             INTRODUCTION.
+
+
+                               MARRIAGE.
+
+             “Marriage is a matter of more worth
+             Than to be dealt in by attorneyship.”
+                                             _Shakspeare._
+
+            “The bloom or blight of all men’s happiness.”
+                                                    _Byron._
+
+In no other civilized country in the world is marriage contracted, or
+dissolved, with such culpable levity as in our own. In no other
+civilized country (except, perhaps, in France, just at present), can
+divorce be obtained with such facility, and upon such slight grounds.
+And it may be the very ease with which the sacred bond may be broken
+that leads many people into forming it so lightly. An obligation so
+easily annulled may be carelessly contracted. I remember an anecdote in
+point:—“Take care—this contemplated marriage of yours is a hasty
+affair—and when consummated, it is for _life_, you know—‘’Till death do
+you part,’” said a young man to his friend, who was about to enter into
+the “holy state.” “Oh, no! not necessarily—there are such things as
+_divorces_, recollect,” laughingly replied the perspective bridegroom—a
+handsome hero, of black eyes and white teeth—and his black eyes flashed,
+and his white teeth gleamed, as though he had been saying the wittiest
+thing in the world. The youth was in love—therefore his speech could not
+be taken seriously. He was jesting. _Still_ his words betrayed—that even
+then, in the heyday of his passion, a future contingency was present to
+his mind. That future contingency _arrived_—would _never_ have
+arrived—had he not known beforehand of its remedy. He married—lived with
+his young bride eighteen months. She became the mother of a little
+girl—fell into ill health—lost her beauty and attractions. He left
+her—to travel in Europe—he said—but years passed, and he never returned
+or wrote. He left her broken in heart; broken in health, injured in
+reputation; exposed to the misconstructions of the world; to the
+miseries of poverty; to the temptations of youth, of isolation, and of
+warm affections; to the pursuit of the licentious; to the calumny of the
+wicked or the thoughtless; and worse than all to bear up against—the
+doubts and suspicions of the good. She was destitute of mental
+resources—in delicate health—morbidly sensitive, and she sank—sank—under
+the accumulating miseries of her position—and died—in the twenty-second
+year of her age, and in the fourth of her wretched marriage.
+
+I was about to cite another case—a _second_ case—when the memory of a
+third; a fourth; a fifth; a _dozen_ aggravated instances of desertion,
+presented themselves to my mind, and pressed upon me, and, reader, I
+cannot trouble you with the whole of them. The evils of _misalliance_
+are irremediable, at least by foreign interference; and the miseries of
+desertion are well nigh incurable, or, “the cure is worse than the
+disease.” Let us look at the _causes_ and the means of _prevention_, of
+unhappy marriages. Yet, if you read only for the story, just skip the
+whole of this chapter, and commence at the _next_, which opens the
+drama.
+
+To go back to the beginning—a primary cause of unhappy marriage is a
+_defective moral and physical education_. In our country intellectual
+education is on a par with that of other enlightened nations of the
+earth—not so moral and physical education. Prudence, fortitude, truth,
+reverence, and fidelity, are not inculcated here as they should be.
+Industry, activity, and enterprise are our national good points of
+character, and these are impressed upon children by example, rather than
+by admonition; and our virtues, generosity, hospitality, courage, and
+patriotism, are the virtues of constitution and of circumstance, rather
+than of education.
+
+We fail to impress the duty of PRUDENCE upon our children, and hence
+rash and culpable mercantile speculation, ending in insolvency—and hence
+hasty, inconsiderate marriages, ending in bankruptcy of heart, home, and
+happiness. We fail to impress the duty of FIDELITY upon our children,
+and hence irregularity and unfaithfulness in business, embezzlement of
+funds, &c., and hence broken marriage faith and deserted families.
+
+We fail to inculcate the duty of FORTITUDE, and hence, when obligations,
+professional or matrimonial, become painful, they are too often
+abandoned.
+
+But it is PHYSICAL EDUCATION, in its relation to the happiness of
+married life, that I wish to discuss. We are still more thoughtlessly
+neglectful, and I was about to say, _fatally_ neglectful of physical,
+than of moral education. _Fatally_, because no moral education can be
+completely successful, unless assisted and supported by a good physical
+training.
+
+An instance—preach patience for ever, yet a dyspeptic _will_ be
+ill-tempered.
+
+Another—preach industry for ever, yet the weak and languid _will_ be
+lazy and idle.
+
+A third—inculcate the necessity of courage, presence of mind, by
+eloquent precept, and by the example of all the heroes and heroines of
+history, yet the nervous _will_ start if a door claps.
+
+One might go on _ad infinitum_.
+
+A defective physical education is one of the primary causes of
+unhappiness in the marriage relation. A girl cannot be a useful or a
+happy wife, and she cannot make her husband and her children happy, or
+even comfortable, unless she be a healthy woman. In Great Britain, a
+girl in delicate health never expects to be married, and her friends
+never desire it for her. American girls are proverbially delicate in
+organization, and frail in health, and their mothers were delicate
+before them, and their children will be still more delicate after them,
+unless there is a great reform in physical cultivation. Such a reform is
+happily beginning in the North. It is yet unthought of here, and in the
+West and South. Daily exercise by walking, skipping rope, calisthenics,
+horseback riding, which bring all the limbs and muscles into play; daily
+bathing in cold water on first rising in the morning; fresh air, simple,
+plain food, the disuse of coffee and tea, comfortable clothing, the
+disuse of tight ligatures, corsets, tight-waisted dresses, tight shoes,
+&c., are the best features of this excellent system of physical
+training. I believe that a young person with a good constitution to
+commence with, faithfully following these means for the preservation of
+health, with the blessing of God, will not fade or break until she is
+fifty, nor die until she is an hundred years old. I believe that youth,
+health, beauty, strength, and life can be greatly prolonged beyond their
+present average, and that we were all intended to live twice or three
+times as long as with our sad mal-treatment we do live.
+
+American children (with the exception of a very few, whose parents know
+and practise better) grow up drinking hot tea and coffee, eating hot
+meats and rich gravies and pastries, never bathing, taking little
+exercise, confined in crowded school-rooms or close house-rooms, and
+become narrow-shouldered, hollow-cheeked, pale, sickly, nervous, and
+fretful; they marry early companions as pale, sickly, nervous, and
+fretful as themselves, and have children _twice_ as pale, sickly,
+nervous, and fretful as their parents, and discord and other domestic
+miseries are such inevitable results that we _must_ pity, and can
+scarcely blame the victims. They cry out in their agony for separation,
+divorce, for reform in social laws, when the truth is, no reform would
+cure their evils without a reform in their personal habits; such a
+reform as would give health, consequently good humor, and lastly,
+happiness.
+
+Few people consider how much our _moral_ as well as our _physical_
+health depends upon exercise, cleanliness, and temperance. How much our
+happiness depends upon a free circulation, unobstructed perspiration,
+and a good digestion. How much domestic discomfort is caused by the
+querulousness of ill health. Many a man of weak and unsettled principles
+is driven to dissipation and vice, and it may be to crime, by the
+discomforts of his home, of his sickly and nervous wife, fretful and
+troublesome children.
+
+Another prominent cause of unhappy marriages, is the too unguarded and
+unrestrained association between young persons of opposite sexes in the
+same rank of society. If the dress and address of a young man are
+passable, if his conduct is unimpeachable, and his _prospects fair_,
+however otherwise unknown and untried, he may be admitted at once to the
+intimacy of a young lady, and after a brief courtship, _too_ brief to
+give either a knowledge of their own or each other’s hearts, take the
+last irrevocable step—_marriage_. And this youth of fair manners, fair
+appearance, and fair conduct, may turn out to be, if not positively
+depraved, yet weak, unstable, untried, possessing the _best reputation_,
+based upon the morality of externals, rather than the tested, sound
+integrity of heart; with the most _defective character_, totally unfit
+to guide himself, still less another, through the shoals and quicksands
+of life.
+
+In the old times of chivalry, a knight must have proved his prowess
+before he could successfully aspire to the hand of his lady love. The
+days of knight-errantry are long past, but in the age of man, or of the
+world, the days of moral warfare are never over; never over with the
+world while it exists; never over with man until death; and I would have
+some better proof of moral force in an untried young man, than a few
+weeks of acquaintance, popularity, and mere amiability of manners would
+give, before I could trust the temporal and eternal welfare of my
+daughter to his keeping. When a young girl’s heart is lost and won, it
+is too late for these prudential considerations; in this case, as in
+every other, the old proverb holds good—_Fidarsi è bene, e non fidarse e
+meglio_. The conversational acquaintanceship should be prevented from
+maturing into the dangerous intimacy. Yet do not misunderstand me; I
+would not have you pain or repulse a young heart by the coldness of
+suspicion. I would not have you shut yourselves up in a dark distrust,
+and close your doors, and guard your girls with Eastern jealousy; far
+from it, one need not run upon Scylla in avoiding Charybdis. “Moderation
+is the golden thread that holds together the bead-roll of the virtues.”
+I would have you take the middle course—“the golden mean” between
+jealous surveillance and dangerous neglect. In all other civilized and
+enlightened society in the world, young ladies are carefully guarded and
+guided, chaperoned through the mazes of life. In countries of the
+Eastern continent this system of surveillance is excessive; here, it is
+reprehensibly deficient; in England it is perfect. I confess I would
+have our manners resemble the English in _this_ respect.
+
+Still another primary cause (I speak only of _primary causes_ here,
+deeming discord, tyranny, drunkenness, infidelity, and desertion so many
+_effects_), still another primary cause of unhappiness in the marriage
+state, is that marriage is contracted too early in life. American girls
+are proverbially married too young; at an age at which even a hearty
+robust Englishwoman would scarcely be permitted to enter upon the
+responsibilities of marriage. How much more improper then must it be for
+an American girl, with her national extreme delicacy of organization, to
+take upon herself the heavy burdens and onerous duties of matrimony,
+before her feeble constitution is mature, or her frail strength
+confirmed. But our girls, with all these natural disadvantages, are
+married early, and hence the early (_proverbially_ again) wasting of
+health and life; the failing of beauty, decline of grace, and loss of
+attractions in the women; and hence the vexatious, nervous irritability
+so common in young mothers, so destructive to domestic harmony and
+happiness. How can it be otherwise with the continued tax of a young and
+increasing family upon the immature strength of the youthful wife and
+mother? Our girls are extremely fragile at best, and will ever be so,
+aye and will grow more so, unless a better system of physical education
+is generally adopted. When these delicate girls prematurely assume the
+cares and burdens of a family, they break down under it, become thin,
+pale, sickly, nervous, and fretful; no longer attractive, almost
+repulsive; and the husband, father, if his disposition be benevolent and
+protective, as is the nature of most American men, suffers martyrdom,
+devotes himself a living sacrifice to his sickly wife and large family.
+I know hundreds of such devoted men, all unconscious of their
+self-devotion, passing their lives in dull counting-houses, dark stores,
+dingy offices, dirty work-shops, or crowded school-rooms, so cheerfully!
+to provide a comfortable or a luxurious home where their wives and
+children ever live, but where they only come to snatch a hasty meal, or
+late at night to sleep. This, I think, is what Dr. Dewey calls “The
+Religion of Toil.” But if on the other hand this husband of the sickly
+wife, this father of the peevish children, this victim of early marriage
+and other abuses, happens to be selfish and unprincipled, he becomes,
+more or less, tyrant or reprobate, or he sometimes quietly _leaves_,
+goes to the West or South, to sea, or to parts unknown, and is never
+heard of again. If he be licentious as well as selfish, his wandering
+fancies fix upon some younger, fresher, fairer, or some _new_ form; then
+comes the thought of the possibility, the probability, the almost
+certainty, if he pursues it, of getting a legal enfranchisement from his
+matrimonial bonds. And this is naturally suggested by the facility with
+which divorces are granted; true, he cannot legally repudiate his wife
+while she remains faithful, but he _can_ oblige _her_ to release him, or
+break her neck, or her heart, or desert and starve her into compliance
+with his measures; or he can wrest her children from her, and make their
+restoration to her bosom the price of his release. I am not
+exaggerating, reader; if you live in a city, and will look about you,
+you will find that I speak truly. But to conclude, I reiterate, and
+insist upon this point, that the fundamental causes of unhappiness in
+married life, are a defective moral and _physical_ education—and a
+premature contraction of the matrimonial engagement.
+
+
+
+
+                           THE DESERTED WIFE.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER I.
+                         THE OLD MANSION HOUSE.
+
+               All day within the dreary house,
+               The doors upon their hinges creak;
+               The blue fly sings in the pane—the mouse
+               Behind the mouldering wainscot creeps,
+               Or from the crevice peers about.
+                                               TENNYSON.
+
+           The wild wind sweeps across the old damp floors,
+             And makes a weary and a wailing moan,
+           All night you hear the clap of broken doors,
+             That on their rusty hinges grate and groan;
+           And then old voices calling from behind
+           The worn and wormy wainscot flapping in the wind.
+                                                 MILLER.
+
+
+The character of the first settlers of Maryland and Virginia is known to
+have been very different from that of the Pilgrim Fathers—as opposite as
+the idle, gay, and dissolute cavalier to the stern, laborious, and
+self-denying Puritan. Their purpose in seeking the shores of the Western
+World was also widely different from that of the first settlers of New
+England—the object of the latter being spiritual liberty; the end of the
+former, material wealth. And their history since the first settlement of
+the country has been as broadly diverse. The children of the Pilgrim
+Fathers have reached the highest seats in the temples of Fame and
+Fortune—the descendants of the first aristocratic settlers of Maryland
+and Virginia have seen themselves outstripped in the path of success and
+honor by the children of the very menials of their father’s house. This
+is emphatically the case in Maryland. Among the friends and partizans of
+Lord Baltimore, who sought with him an Eldorado among the rolling hills
+and lovely vales, and beside the broad and beautiful rivers of Maryland,
+came many younger sons of the decayed old English nobility and gentry,
+who thought out of the wealth of the New World to found a name and a
+family here, that should rival, in power and splendor, the house from
+which they sprang. They seemed to overlook the fact that this coveted
+wealth was as yet unreclaimed from the wilderness—that nothing but
+energy, labor, and perseverance could receive and appropriate it; and
+even if at first they had observed this, it would have availed them
+little, for unlike the Pilgrim Fathers, they were deplorably destitute
+of these natural and necessary qualifications for success in a new and
+unsubdued world.
+
+With all their old ancestral pride, they also brought to these shores
+those habits of idleness, dissipation, and reckless expenditure which
+had been so destructive to their fortunes in the old country. Many
+succeeded in securing from the wilderness large estates, and upon them
+they erected handsome edifices,—the bricks, glass, and other materials
+for which were mostly imported from England to Baltimore, and brought
+down the Potomac or Patuxent rivers to the site selected for building
+(so little available then to these settlers were the fine resources of
+the country). Some of these old mansion houses are yet standing,[1] but
+like the families that own them, much decayed, and remaining merely as
+memorials of past grandeur. The descendants of these first settlers of
+Maryland and Virginia are the proudest, and _some_ of them, alas! the
+poorest of the citizens of these States. These people are _sui
+generis_—unlike any other people I ever saw or read of. Each planter on
+his own estate, great or small, productive or barren, is prouder, and
+more thoroughly convinced of his own immense personal importance, than
+any throned, crowned, and sceptred monarch in Christendom or Heatheness.
+With all this, they are brave, generous, gallant, and hospitable, even
+to extravagance. It has been entered as a complaint against the older
+counties of Maryland and Virginia, that the taverns are wretched, and
+how can it be helped? Tavern-keeping is a poor business there, because
+the doors of every planter’s house fly open to receive the traveller who
+passes near his gates—and a welcome is extended to him with the
+cheerful, genial warmth of a country gentleman to whom the exercise of
+hospitality is a delight as well as a duty. It is a very common thing to
+see a perfect stranger ride up to the gate of a Maryland or Virginia
+planter’s farm yard, with the purpose of remaining all night—or a week,
+if his convenience requires it—and he is sure of a welcome, as long as
+he pleases to stay—for him the “fatted calf” is killed, for him the butt
+of cordial broached.
+
+Footnote 1:
+
+  We have one in Washington. It is an old ruin—some hundred years older
+  than the city—and stands near the junction of the Potomac and
+  Anacostia. It is haunted, of course.
+
+Northern and Western men who occasionally happen to travel through the
+lower counties of these States, put up at poor taverns, and go away to
+abuse the half savage state of society there. They should rather present
+themselves at some planter’s house, where they would be received with
+the best, as a matter of course, and invited, if it were spring, to a
+fish feast upon the banks of the nearest river, or, if it were autumn,
+to a deer hunt. Let idlers who are _ennuyés_ to death with the
+common-places of their daily life, just take a country road tour through
+the lower counties of Maryland and Virginia, and they will find
+themselves transported to the associations of two centuries ago, among
+the oldest-fashioned people, with the oldest-fashioned houses,
+furniture, and manners in the world.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+Down on the western shore of Maryland is a heath containing about five
+hundred acres—upon which stands an old mansion-house, in ruins, both of
+which I wish to describe. This heath is bounded on the North by the
+river P., on the South by Sachem’s Creek, on the West by a deep, dense
+forest, and on the East by the Chesapeake Bay. The heath rises gradually
+from the bay, and is relieved by clumps of pine and cedar trees,
+standing between the swells of ground as it rolls back from the water
+towards the forest, while towards the North the ground rises and
+sharpens into a steep promontory, sticking out between the junction of
+the river with the bay. Crowning the summit of this promontory, is a
+large, square, red brick old mansion-house. Around this house wave tall,
+gloomy old Lombardy poplars—like sable plumes around a hearse. Around
+the shores of the promontory runs a half-ruined low brick wall,
+inclosing the garden attached to the mansion. This garden is grown up
+with weeds and thistles. This estate was known by the name of The Heath,
+or Heath Hall, and had continued in the possession of the Churchill
+family since the first settlement of Maryland.
+
+On the opposite point of the mouth of the river was the struggling
+little village of Churchill Point,—a great colonial seaport town,
+withered in the germ—now only an occasional depot for tobacco raised in
+the immediate neighborhood, and shipped thence to Baltimore by the
+little packets that traded up and down the river, and sometimes stopped
+there to take in freight. A large old barn of a storehouse, where
+produce was left till carried away—a large, old, white-framed tavern,
+half-furnished, where passengers went to meet the packets, a
+blacksmith’s shop, a country merchant’s store, a post-office, kept by
+the widow of the late post-master, a few cottages, tenanted by wool,
+cotton, and flax dyers, by domestic counterpane and carpet weavers, and
+other country laborers, made up the staple of the village. About a
+quarter of a mile back from the village, in a clearing in the forest,
+stood the Episcopal Church of the Crucifixion. Divine service was
+performed here only once a fortnight, as the pastor had two parishes
+under his charge.[2]
+
+Footnote 2:
+
+  This is frequently the case, even at this day, in remote counties of
+  Maryland.
+
+To return to Churchill Hall. This estate had once been highly valuable,
+both as to size and productiveness. Running over its natural boundaries,
+it extended beyond the river and creek, and for miles into the forest
+behind—and for fertility it was called the garden spot of Maryland. But
+many acres had passed from the possession of the family, and what was
+left was worn out by that wretched system of agriculture which has
+ruined the once highly productive lands of Maryland. I mean the
+continual drain upon the resources of the soil, without ever giving it
+rest or food; sowing a field years at a stretch, without giving it the
+repose of a single season, or the nutriment of a single bushel of
+manure. All that was left of the once beautiful farm was the sterile
+heath and ruined Hall I have described, when the estate, by the death of
+his father, passed into the possession of Ignatius, the last heir of the
+Churchills, who, and his two sisters, Sophie and Rosalie, were the only
+remaining members of the family. His poverty and his incumbrances did
+not prevent him from loving and marrying a beautiful girl in his
+neighborhood, Agatha Gormon, who left a luxurious home to share his
+poverty in the ruined Hall at the Heath; nor could his love save her
+from death, when, in the second year of her marriage, she passed away,
+leaving an infant daughter of a day old. He had loved her with an
+exclusive, absorbing passion, and from the hour of her sudden death he
+pined away, and in less than a year thereafter was laid in her
+grave—opened to receive him. The orphan heiress of a ruin and a desert,
+the infant Agatha—or, as from her wild, dark beauty, she was nicknamed,
+_Hagar_—was left in charge of his sisters. These ladies, though poor,
+were quite comfortable. The lower rooms of the old house were kept in
+tolerable order. Their table was supplied by the garden, the dairy, and
+the river, which afforded excellent fish, crabs, and oysters—while their
+pocket money was supplied by the hire of several negroes owned by them.
+The girls were beautiful—and, poor as they were, it was thought not
+impossible that they might marry well. The elder sister, Rosalie, was a
+merry, plump, golden-haired, blue-eyed lassie, with a complexion that
+the country beaux compared to strawberries and cream—she was the first
+to fulfil the happy auguries drawn for her. She was seen by a young
+merchant of Baltimore, who happened to have business at Churchill’s
+Point, and after rather a short courtship, she was wedded and carried
+off to the city home of her husband. Sophie Churchill, now bereaved and
+alone at seventeen, devoted herself with all the enthusiasm of her
+ardent, loving nature, to the care and education of her infant niece,
+and little Hagar grew passionately fond of her aunt. Her sole domestic
+was an old woman, a pure Guinea negress, who, seventy years before, in
+her childhood, had been torn from her native coast, brought to this
+country, and sold. She had served the Churchill family for three
+generations, and was nearly eighty years old—yet with the strong
+tenacity of life distinguishing the native African, she still kept up
+and at work, seemingly in all her mid-life vigor. Now, reader, I am
+telling you no invented story—so do you not think that there was
+something slightly romantic about the position of this young girl, left
+with the charge of an infant, living in an old ruin, on a bleak shore,
+and having no other companion or attendant but the old Guinea negress?
+_Real life_ is full of the picturesque and the romantic. I have never
+yet needed to cull flowers from the fields of imagination. The gardens
+of memory and tradition will furnish materials for a life of romance
+writing.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER II.
+                             THE MINISTER.
+
+                                  “——Gentleness
+          And a strange strength, a calm o’errulling strength,
+          Are mixed within him so that neither take
+          Possession from the other—neither rise
+          In mastery or passion—but both grow
+          Harmoniously together.”
+                                          W. G. SIMMS.
+
+
+Sophie Churchill was a pretty girl of round _petite_ form, of clear pale
+olive complexion, large, soft brown eyes, and dark chestnut hair. Had
+her position been different she would have been much admired and
+courted—as it was she was neglected and even slandered—yes,
+slandered—after the death of her brother, and the marriage of her only
+sister, she had, in pure ignorance of the world, kept up exactly the
+same manner of life as before. Instead of engaging some respectable
+elderly female as housekeeper and companion (which indeed her limited
+means did not allow), she preferred remaining alone, and continued to
+receive the visits not only of ladies, which of course was in perfect
+propriety, but of _gentlemen_—that is to say, of her own and her
+father’s familiar friends—the sons and brothers of their near neighbors,
+who testified their remembrance of the dead, and their respect for the
+living, by sometimes calling to see Sophie and her little charge, and by
+sometimes bringing her a brace of wild fowl, a pair of pigeons, or some
+other such game from their morning sport upon the moor; until at last
+they found that their well meant kindness to the young and pretty orphan
+was subjecting her to the invidious remarks of all the thoughtless or
+the malicious gossips of the neighborhood. Then their occasional visits
+were discontinued, and the poor girl was left almost entirely alone,
+especially as the advancing winter and the increasing severity of the
+weather precluded the visits of _ladies_ to that desolate heath. And
+desolate indeed it was upon this first winter that Sophie passed alone
+at the Hall.
+
+As early as the first of December the river was frozen over. With the
+thoughtlessness of a young girl upon whom the cares of housekeeping were
+exclusively and suddenly thrown, she had neglected to provide for the
+exigencies of the severe winters of that particular locality. She had
+even from delicacy omitted to send for the wages of the few negroes out
+on hire—and the first of December, when the ground was two feet deep in
+snow, and the river was a solid block of ice, and even the bay near the
+shore was crusted over, found Sophie Churchill destitute of the common
+necessaries of life. To augment the evils of her position, the old
+negress—who in health was in herself a host—was laid up with the
+rheumatism. At this time Sophie was so poor that her little charge (now
+three years old) possessed but one suit of clothes; and every night,
+after putting the little one to bed, would Sophie go, up to her knees in
+snow, away off to the forest, a quarter of a mile distant, to collect
+brush, to supply the fire the next day—her little arms and moderate
+strength serving to bring so small a quantity at a time that she would
+have to make this trip half-a-dozen times a night before a sufficient
+quantity was collected. Then she would have to take the bucket and go to
+a dell in the same forest to bring water, and after coming home would
+take the sleeping Hagar’s only suit of clothes and wash and iron them
+for the next day, solaced while at her work by the mutterings of the old
+negress, who, with the irritability of sickness, would growl from her
+lair—
+
+“Oh, ho! kin tote water, kin you—thought how you was to _deleky_ an’
+_saft_ (_delicate and soft_) to tote water from de spring,” &c., &c.
+
+Sophie never paid the slightest attention to this ill-temper; she seemed
+not to hear it. It was remarkable that Sophie never once in the whole
+course of her life was heard to utter a complaint, lay a charge, or make
+a reproach; and that she was perfectly unconscious of the moral beauty
+of her own patience. She merely acted out her own nature without
+thinking about it.
+
+Sophie had one faithful friend in the aged pastor of the parish—but he,
+with his multifarious duties, could seldom find time to visit her. The
+Rev. Senex May, with his young wife and only child, lived in a pretty
+cottage on the other side of the river, in a grove half way between the
+village and the forest. His youthful wife, Emily Wilde, had been an
+orphan, a governess from New England, living in the family of a wealthy
+planter in the neighborhood. Weary of her friendless, homeless, and
+unsettled life, she had given her hand where her deepest reverence had
+long been bestowed, and was very happy as “the old man’s darling.” One
+child, a boy, had blessed this singular union.
+
+Mr. May and Emily did not surmise the deep destitution into which Sophie
+Churchill had fallen. The deep snow and severe cold had prevented them
+for several weeks from crossing the river to see her.
+
+At last the weather moderated, the snow melted, the ice-bound river was
+freed, a mild dry wind from the South sprang up and dried the ground,
+the roads became passable, and the long confined and dreadfully wearied
+country neighbors geared up their vehicles of various sorts, from the
+ox-cart to the coach and pair, and from the ass’s colt to the high bred
+courser, and went “a-visiting.”
+
+It was about ten o’clock in the morning of a beautiful winter’s day,
+that Sophie caught a glimpse through the window of the old parson on his
+old horse, with Emily seated on a pillion behind him, with her arms
+around his waist. Sophie sprang to meet and greet them—and—
+
+“I knew you’d come! I _knew_ you would,” she said, as she held up her
+hands to assist Emily, who sprang from the pillion into her arms. And
+she burst into tears as she received her.
+
+Poor girl! she had been so lonesome, for so long.
+
+After greeting Mr. May, she drew Emily’s arm within her own and led the
+way to the house, while the old parson ambled leisurely up to the
+horse-block, alighted, and followed them. When they were seated in the
+parlor, and Emily had taken Hagar upon her lap and filled her apron with
+the home-made cakes she had brought, Mr. May turned to Sophie, and
+stroking her brown hair, inquired—
+
+“How has my little partridge contrived to live through this long, hard
+winter?”
+
+Sophie Churchill was thoroughly ingenuous, and in reply she gave a
+simple narrative of her life since the setting in of the winter.
+
+It was beautiful to observe, that during her narrative she had uttered
+no one word of reflection or reproach against the friends and neighbors
+who had so cruelly neglected her. She merely told without complaint, the
+simple story of her sufferings as a duty, in answer to her venerated
+pastor’s question. He heard with emotion—and—
+
+“Poor ‘stricken deer’—poor shorn lamb—aye! shorn to the very ‘quick,’”
+he said.
+
+At the conclusion of her story—
+
+“The Lord loveth whom He chasteneth, and scourgeth every child whom he
+receiveth,” he said, reverently. And then he arose and walked soberly
+and thoughtfully up and down the floor with his hands clasped behind his
+back.
+
+He was a round, stout old gentleman, wore short breeches and silk
+stockings, and had his grey hair parted over his venerable brow,
+smoothed back and plaited in a queue behind; so you may readily fancy
+him as he paced up and down the floor with his hands clasped behind him
+and his head bowed upon his chest, while he seemed to be revolving some
+plan.
+
+While he walked, Emily sat and played with Hagar on her lap; at last
+turning to Miss Churchill she said,—
+
+“Do you know, Sophie, that I am not contented at all—that I am very
+_dis_contented? I want a little girl!—I want a little girl _so bad_! I
+want one to dress, and to fix, and to play with. My boy is eight years
+old, and far too big to be dressed in trimmed clothes—too much of a man,
+in his own and his father’s opinion, to wear anything but a plain
+broadcloth jacket and trousers. And I do _so_ love to make and trim
+children’s clothes. I never go into a dry goods store and see remnants
+of pretty calico or merino, but I think what sweet frocks for a little
+girl they would make. Last fall I bought some pretty remnants of crimson
+merino and orange-colored bombazine, and a bunch of narrow black worsted
+braid to trim with, just for a notion—don’t laugh at me, Sophie; and so
+this winter, while confined to the house by the dreadful weather, I
+passed some of the dreary evenings pleasantly in making and trimming
+some little dresses, and as I had no little girl to wear them I made
+them to fit _your_ little girl, Sophie. Here they are—try one of them on
+her—_please_ try one of them on her—I want to see how they look _so
+much_!”
+
+And opening her travelling satchel she produced with glee four beautiful
+little dresses suitable for winter—a crimson, and a green merino, and a
+blue, and an orange bombazine.
+
+“And that ain’t all,” said she, diving into her satchel; “I have made
+half-a-dozen nice little petticoats, and half-a-dozen pair of pantalets,
+and I have trimmed them with thread edging, and, to complete the
+wardrobe, I bought four pairs of little shoes to match in colors each of
+the four dresses; and I have half finished at home a little black velvet
+pelisse and a little black plush hat, into which I intend to stick a
+small white plume. Won’t our little girl be nice, Sophie?”
+
+Emily’s black eyes were dancing as she dashed back the black ringlets
+that kept falling over her face, while she stooped over the basket and
+looked up for a reply.
+
+It was just Sophie Churchill’s character to receive this favor with all
+the simple, artless frankness with which it was offered. She expressed
+no surprise—spoke no thanks; she only passed her hand around Emily’s
+neck, turned her face around to meet her own, bent forward, and kissed
+her lips.
+
+“There! Now, Sophie, let us go into your chamber and dress her,” said
+Emily, setting Hagar off her lap, and beginning to replace the articles
+in the satchel, and rising to go upstairs. But her husband now
+approached her, and laying his hand affectionately on the top of her
+head, pressed her down into her seat, and took the chair by her side,
+saying,—
+
+“Emily, how would you like to have your friend Miss Churchill always
+with you?”
+
+“Oh! I should be delighted—enchanted!”
+
+“Of course—so I supposed, my dear. Come here, Sophie, my child!”
+
+Sophie was at the side-board, taking out some apples. She replaced them,
+however, and went up to her pastor.
+
+“Sophie,” said the old man, “I have to ask your forgiveness, child. I
+have sadly neglected my duty as your pastor. I should have seen that you
+were comfortably provided for. Do you forgive me, child?” said he,
+passing his arm around her waist, and drawing her up to him.
+
+Sophie looked at her pastor with embarrassed surprise, and blushed up to
+her eyes. It seemed to her such an inversion of all order for her
+venerated pastor to ask _her_ forgiveness. She only raised his hand to
+her lips in silent reverence, then stood before him waiting his further
+communication.
+
+He passed his hand once or twice across his brow, and looked at Emily
+with imploring embarrassment; but Emily could not or would not come to
+his assistance, when he said,—
+
+“Sophie Churchill, my dear, it is neither proper for you to live in this
+ruined old house in this sterile heath, nor is it christian in me to
+permit it. And now you say that people have been speaking ill of you—and
+you tell me this, without excitement, as though it were the most natural
+thing in the world, and you tell me that in consequence you are quite
+neglected, without resentment, as though it were the justest fate on
+earth. This must not go on so—Sophie, will you come and live with us? I
+do not ask you in any way to become dependent upon me, for, alas! I know
+too well the unconquerable pride of the Churchills of Heath Hall!” and
+he smiled with a half reproving, half caressing air. “This property
+well-managed is quite enough to support you and your little charge very
+handsomely. But _you_ cannot manage it! Now, Miss Churchill, what I wish
+is, to unite the little families of Heath Hall and Grove Cottage. You
+and Hagar shall come and live with us at Grove Cottage nine months in
+the year. I will repair and re-furnish a part of this old Hall, and we
+will all come down here for sea-bathing during the three summer months.
+I will also beg the privilege of catching fish, crabs, and oysters from
+your fishing landing here—and of shooting wild fowl on your moor. I will
+take upon myself the collection of all your out-standing debts, paying
+them into your own hands. Come, Miss Churchill! what say you to this
+plan of uniting our families? Though just now, for the first time,
+proposed to Emily—the project is very near to her heart. She needs a
+companion near her own age and of her own sex, and will be delighted to
+have you with her, especially as she can then have a ‘little girl to
+dress and fix,’” said he smiling—
+
+“Oh! did _you_ hear that?” laughed Emily.
+
+“Yes, my darling! I heard _that_. Well, Sophie,” he said, turning
+anxiously to Miss Churchill.
+
+He need not have beat about the subject so long, as fearing difficulty
+with Miss Churchill. Sophie was too natural, too simple, frank, and
+entirely unworldly to feel any doubts, fears, or scruples upon the
+subject. Her pastor proposed the plan—and that fact carried with it a
+weight of authority that would have constrained her acceptance of a much
+less agreeable proposition—for in her heart she liked this project—the
+only drawback being her dislike to leave as her home, the Hall of her
+own and her fathers’ nativity. She expressed her glad acquiescence in
+the plan—and Emily sealed the contract with a kiss on her brow. “Now,
+Emily, my darling, we will hurry home—the sooner that we may begin to
+fit up the rooms for Miss Churchill. This is Monday—by Saturday, Miss
+Churchill, we shall be ready for you—and on Saturday morning Emily shall
+drive over and fetch you and Hagar, so that we may all go to church
+together on Sunday. As for this old hall, it can be shut up for the
+present and left in charge of old Cumbo, who, Guinea nigger like, is
+never half so happy as when left entirely alone. You will like our
+little lad, as well as Emily loves your little girl, Miss Churchill—you
+could not help it if you were to try, my dear—and you and Emily and the
+children will be very happy—if I can make you so—for I love to see happy
+faces about me.”
+
+The old man smiled gravely and sweetly as he said this, and arose to
+take leave.
+
+“Mind, dear Sophie,” said Emily, “_we_ shall be ready—do _you_ be ready
+also—for I will be sure to be at your door early on Saturday morning.”
+
+“If it be the will of God,” said the pastor.
+
+“Oh! certainly, I always _mean that_,” said Emily.
+
+“Always _say_ it then, my dear—somehow or other my heart sank within me
+as I heard you promise so confidently to be here on Saturday morning.
+Alas! who can tell? Some of us may be in our graves Saturday morning!” A
+shadow had fallen on his brow. The two young women felt serious. He
+recovered himself with an effort, saying, “I must not darken young
+hearts with my gloom! Come! smile, Emily. Bid your friend good-by—and
+know that every event is ordered by infinite wisdom and love.” And they
+took leave and rode away.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER III.
+                                 DEATH.
+
+              “Why should death be linked with fear?
+                A single breath—a low drawn sigh,
+              Can break the ties that bind us here,
+                And waft the spirit to the sky.”
+                                              MRS. WELBY.
+
+
+The pastor’s home was a pretty little white cottage, with green blinds,
+nestled among the trees from which it took its name. A piazza ran all
+around it. In summer, vines were trained to run above the window of the
+cottage and around the post of the piazza—and whole parterres of white
+lilies (Emily’s favorite flower) filled the air with fragrance. Just at
+this season the scene was rather bleak. The surrounding trees and
+overhanging vines but added by the nakedness of their branches to the
+dreariness of the aspect. The cottage was of one story—consisting of a
+middle building with two wings. In the middle part, first was an entry
+parallel with the front of the house. At each end of this entry was a
+door leading into the little wings, each of which contained a
+bed-chamber. These chambers had each a large bow window fronting on the
+piazza. The left hand room was occupied by the pastor and his wife, and
+the right hand one was fitted up for the reception of Sophie Churchill
+and her little charge. Behind each of these chambers was a little
+closet—that communicating with Emily’s room was occupied by her son;
+that opening from the room prepared for Sophie, was assigned to the use
+of their only domestic, a mulatto girl. The centre building contained,
+first in front a parlor, back of that a dining-room, then a kitchen.
+Behind the house was a vegetable garden, and a poultry yard—and still
+further behind an orchard of various fruits. In front of the cottage was
+a flower yard, and a grape walk extended from the front of the piazza
+quite down to the gate. Bee-hives were standing under the locust trees
+that were scattered over the lawn.
+
+Emily was a great housekeeper—and her parlor was a model of comfort.
+There were no framed pictures. The walls were covered with a landscape
+paper (_engraved_, not colored) representing the neighborhood of
+Jerusalem and scenes in the life of the Saviour. On the wall, on one
+side of the fire-place, was Christ blessing little children—on the other
+Christ at the marriage at Cana—the figures were nearly as large as life.
+Emily loved them like familiar friends—and this paper was a favorite
+with the old man because its grave hue, assisted by the slate-colored
+moreen curtains at the windows, and the slate-colored coverings of the
+lounges and easy chairs, shed a sober clerical sort of air over the
+room. The mantel-piece was of dark grey marble, and the very andirons,
+fender, &c., had no glaring brass about them, but were made of polished
+steel. A large and well filled book-case stood at the end of the room
+opposite the fire-place—a bronze bust of John Huss stood upon the top of
+it. _That_ was the old man’s hero. On Friday morning succeeding their
+visit to Heath Hall—this parlor was in its highest state of
+perfection—everything glittered with a sober polished steel sort of
+brilliancy—like a “friend’s” wit and humor. They were ready for Miss
+Churchill. Sophie at the Hall was preparing for her removal—all her
+small effects and Hagar’s slender stock of clothing were put in order
+and packed. On Friday morning they were quite ready. On Friday morning
+Mrs. May’s maid rode over on a side-saddle and carried a note to Sophie
+Churchill. The note was from Emily, of course, and ran thus—
+
+
+  “Come, my little partridge, are you ready to fly?—your nest in the
+  grove is quite ready—the sweetest little nest you ever saw. I have put
+  up white muslin curtains to your bed and windows, laid down a new
+  home-made carpet on your floor, whitened your hearth, and hung your
+  favorite picture of the Madonna and child over the chimney-piece.
+  Kitty and I have made some seed cakes to-day—and Mr. May has just
+  received from Baltimore Scott’s new novel of ‘Ivanhoe.’ I await your
+  arrival to cut the leaves—shall we not be happy to-morrow? I have
+  borrowed Mrs. Gardiner Green’s carryall and shall be at your door by
+  seven in the morning. I design that you shall breakfast with us, so be
+  ready for migration, my bird.
+
+                                                                “EMILY.”
+
+
+That night Emily retired to rest so full of thoughts of the morrow that
+she could not sleep. For one thing she feared that she should not wake
+early enough—her very bonnet and cloak were laid out ready to be put on
+when she should first get up; and then she was afraid her buckwheat
+cakes might not rise well on account of the cold, and _terribly_ afraid
+lest the cloud that obscured the moon should bring rain the next
+morning. At last she fell asleep, and it seemed to her that she had but
+just lost herself when she was aroused by a soft hand laid on her face.
+She threw up her own hand, half unconsciously, to remove it, when she
+heard her husband say, in feeble tones, “Emily, I am dying; get up,
+child.” She started up in vague alarm, for she was yet but half awake,
+struck a light, and passing around to the other side of the bed, let it
+shine in his face. His features were frightfully drawn and haggard, as
+though by a recent fit of agonizing pain—his voice was quiet, as he
+said,—
+
+“Blow out the candle, child, and open the window-shutters to let the
+moonbeams in, and come and sit by me, Emily.” She was wide enough awake
+now, and trembling in every limb, while she gazed upon that contorted
+countenance, and marked while he spoke the frightful ruin an hour had
+made of it.
+
+“You are ill—very ill!—let me call up Kitty and send for a physician,”
+said she, setting down the candle, and running to the door. He recalled
+her.
+
+“My Emily, come here—let Kitty sleep—do not disturb the household—send
+for no one, I insist—a college of doctors could not save me. My Emily,
+blow out the candle—it hurts me; there—now open the shutters so that I
+can see out into the free sky. Thank you, child. Now, Emily, wrap
+yourself in your cloak, and come and take this seat by my side.”
+
+Trembling with grief and terror, she did all that he requested, and
+finally, as she took the chair at the head of the bed, said,—
+
+“Oh, do give me leave to send for a physician—you have been in a fit or
+in agonizing pain, and may be so again; _do_ let me send for a
+physician.”
+
+“My child, whom would you send? Dr. Howe lives fourteen miles off; can
+you send Kitty at night so far?”
+
+“Oh! I could send her over to the village to knock up Mr. Green or some
+of the men, who will saddle a horse and go—do let me!”
+
+“Emily, before a messenger could _go_, much less _return_ with the
+doctor, it would be too late. Stay—do not leave me! I charge you do not
+leave me!”
+
+He grasped her hand convulsively, as a spasm beginning in his left
+shoulder and arm shook fearfully his whole person. Emily gazed, pale and
+cold as lead, and twice started up to call assistance, when both times
+the hand of the convulsed man tightened upon her wrist, and retained her
+in her seat. The fit at last was over, and he was looking into Emily’s
+face.
+
+“Oh! _what_ can I do for you?” she cried, “_do—do—do_ let me try
+something.” She was too much shocked for tears.
+
+“Do _only_ what I ask of you, dear child—stay by me. I am dying, Emily.”
+
+“No, no! _not_ dying, but _ill_—very ill. Oh, _what_ is the matter with
+you?”
+
+Now her tears gushed forth.
+
+“Control yourself, Emily—you can do it. _This_ is my disease, _angina
+pectoris_. I have been threatened with it long—it will do its office
+to-night. One or two more such convulsions as that and my soul will be
+released—released! Only think of that! Free to traverse the boundless
+realms of air! Stupendous it seems to me—I cannot fully realize it. One
+hour convulsed and agonizing here, the next beyond the most distant star
+we see. One moment your pale face fades from my eyes, the next the
+divine glory of the Saviour’s countenance bursts upon my vision!”
+
+A terrible convulsion now seized and shook his frame; he held Emily’s
+hand as before—the fit passed.
+
+“You will weep for the old man a few days, Emily, and only a few days.
+At first you will feel very desolate and helpless, but you will soon
+recover from that, and find an absorbing object in your son for a
+time—_that_ may also pass, for you are young.”
+
+“Shall I not awake Augustus?” asked Emily, through her streaming tears.
+
+“No, child. Do not let him look, young as he is, upon the terrors of a
+death like this—a death of physical anguish. I looked over him as he lay
+in his cot to-night and blessed him in his sleep. That is sufficient.”
+
+The muscles of his face and hands began to twitch—he struggled and
+writhed in another strong spasm. When that was over, and he had grown
+quite calm, he raised his feeble hands, and parting the soft dark hair
+from her white forehead, he said,—
+
+“I bless you, Emily—I bless you and you shall be blessed—blessed in your
+son, blessed in your friends, blessed in yourself, and blessed in your
+God.”
+
+A convulsion stronger and longer in continuance than any that had
+preceded it threatened his immediate dissolution. When, at last, it
+slowly and interruptedly subsided, his features settled into the fixity
+of death. He did not speak again, his respiration was labored and
+painful, and only when Emily attempted to move would he give any sign of
+consciousness by feebly trying to tighten his hold upon her hand; at
+last that hold relaxed, the respiration ceased, and the freed soul
+“migrated to the Great Secret.” Emily was calm and quiet now. She laid
+the venerable hands together over his bosom, composed the limbs, closed
+the eyes, and straightened the white coverlet of the bed. Then she
+resumed her seat and her watch until the morning dawned, then dressing
+herself, she went into the sleeping closet of Kitty, aroused her, told
+her what had happened, and sent her to the village to procure
+assistance. By sunrise the cottage was half-full of sympathizing
+neighbors. The pastor’s funeral took place on the fourth day after his
+death. The successor of the pastor had arrived in time to perform the
+funeral ceremonies, and after that was over remained as a temporary
+guest at the Grove. All plans of removing thither were for the present
+abandoned by Sophie Churchill.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER IV.
+                             THE STRANGER.
+
+              “Erect, morose, determined, solemn, slow—
+              Who knows the man can never cease to know.”
+                                                  CRABBE.
+
+             “A fearful sign stands in thy house of life—
+             An enemy;—a fiend lurks close behind
+             The radiance of thy planet—oh! be warned!”
+                                                 COLERIDGE.
+
+
+The Rev. John Huss Withers. He had been recommended to the parish as his
+successor in case of his own demise by Mr. May. He had been a student
+some twenty years back with the old gentleman—within the last eight or
+ten years he had had charge of a congregation in one of the Northern
+cities. Very lately his charge had been resigned—and, in reply to a
+letter written by Mr. May, inquiring his reason for his resignation, he
+alleged the cause to be—domestic affliction—the _loss_ of his wife. The
+old pastor wrote back a letter full of sympathy, and attempted
+consolation, and then the correspondence was suffered to drop. There was
+no telling how much the mere circumstance of his given name, “John
+Huss,” affected the partiality of the old man in his favor.
+
+Certainly when he appeared at the grove, there was nothing very winning
+in his looks. During the funeral ceremonies, Mrs. May and Miss Churchill
+had scarcely observed him, absorbed as they were in thoughts of the
+dead. After the return from the burial ground—after Emily and Sophie had
+laid off their bonnets in Miss Churchill’s room, Emily said—
+
+“You must stay with us at least a week or two, Sophie—and we must share
+together this room that I proposed for you—I will have the crib brought
+down from the loft and put by the side of our bed for little Hagar. One
+room _must_ be given up to the use of our boarder, Mr. Withers, and I
+prefer to let him have mine, for its distressing associations affect my
+nerves dreadfully.”
+
+“Then the new preacher is to board with you, Emily?”
+
+“Yes, my love, for many good, _very good_ reasons—first, he was my
+husband’s friend, and then I am afraid to live here by myself, or I mean
+without a man about the place; and then the old ladies all tell me that
+I must receive him because it is so convenient to the church.”
+
+For her life, Sophie Churchill could not have explained the cause of the
+oppression that settled upon her heart, or the deep sigh that revealed
+the burden on her spirits without throwing it off. They went into the
+parlor, that was unoccupied, but glittering with its sober, polished
+steel lustre, and took seats; Emily, in the slate-colored damask easy
+chair, and Sophie upon the lounge of the same grave hue. By nothing
+could you have guessed the late presence of so gloomy a visitor as death
+in that sober but cheerful room.
+
+Emily, by the expressed wish of her late husband, wore no mourning—her
+dress was that she always wore in-doors—a soft and full white muslin
+wrapper, descending from her full bust, and gathered around her slender
+waist by a cord and tassel. Her soft, silky black hair was parted over
+her forehead, and hung in thick ringlets that scarcely reached her
+bosom—she leaned back serenely with her hands resting on the arms of the
+slate-colored chair. Sophie Churchill’s clear olive complexion looked
+almost fair, contrasted with her smoothly braided brown hair, her large,
+melancholy brown eyes, and her brown silk dress. Sophie leaned over the
+elbow of the lounge towards her friend, whose chair was near that end.
+Kitty came in to lay the cloth for tea, and soon a round table stood on
+the floor covered by a snow-white damask cloth, white china tea service,
+and the nice light bread and hard golden-hued butter, and clear honey,
+with the seed cakes of Emily’s preparation. The tea was placed upon the
+table and their boarder summoned from the piazza, where he had been
+promenading. He came in.
+
+He came in, lifting his hat from his head, and placing it upon a side
+stand, slowly and gravely assumed the seat at the foot of the table
+where Emily and Sophie were already seated. They raised their eyes
+simultaneously to look at him, and at once the whole aspect of the room
+seemed changed—a funeral solemnity gathered over it. Sophie, attracted
+by one of those strange spells exercised by objects of terror over us,
+could not keep her large startled eyes off him—at last he raised his
+head and looked her full in the face—her eyes fell, and a visible
+shudder shook her frame—a just perceptible smile writhed the corner of
+his mouth as he withdrew his gaze from her. Sophie did not open her
+mouth to speak during the meal; Emily dispensed her hospitalities with
+her usual graceful ease. At the end of tea they arose, Kitty entered and
+cleared the table, and Mrs. May, making an apology, left the room to
+attend to some domestic matters. Sophie was now alone with the new
+preacher. She resumed her seat at the end of the lounge, he took the
+easy chair just vacated by Emily, and drawing it closer to the side of
+Miss Churchill, he stooped forward and inquired in his singularly sweet
+tones—
+
+“You live in this neighborhood, Miss Churchill?”
+
+“Yes, sir,” she said, and her eyes dropped, and the blood mounted to her
+brow, and receding, left it pale—again that singular smile curled the
+corner of his lip.
+
+“Far from this, Miss Churchill?”
+
+“I live at Heath Hall.”
+
+“Ah! and nearly quite alone, Miss Churchill, with only one aged female
+domestic and an infant—”
+
+“And _God_!” said Sophie, raising her eyes confidently to meet his; but
+the brilliant, basilisk, greenish grey eyes seemed to freeze her
+eyeballs, and she dropped their sheltering lids again—yet she felt the
+glance of those glittering, cold, keen eyes entering her heart, and a
+chill, an icy chill, ran through all her veins. She started up and
+sought Emily.
+
+Emily was in the next room, the dining-room, where, seated in two little
+chairs at a little child’s table, covered with a white cloth, appeared
+the children, Gusty and Hagar, eating their supper of milk and
+sweetmeats. The children were at each end of the table, and Emily was
+kneeling at the side with an arm lightly clasped around each—she had
+just thus embraced the orphans, and a tear was glistening in her eye.
+She arose as Sophie entered, and said—
+
+“Why have you left the room, my love; it was so rude to Mr. Withers?”
+
+“Because I don’t like to stay with him—do _you_? How do _you_ like him,
+Emily?”
+
+“Well, dear, I don’t know. I have scarcely had an opportunity of seeing
+yet—he is grave, grave to austerity, yet that, though it may awe young
+maidens, can scarcely be deemed a fault in the Pastor of the Crucifixion
+Parish.”
+
+“Oh! it was not that—it was not that!”
+
+“What was it then, my frightened dove?”
+
+“I could not tell you! You wouldn’t understand! _He has never looked at
+you—never spoken to you._”
+
+“How you do talk at random, child—we conversed at tea.”
+
+“He has never looked at you and never spoken to you!”
+
+“My dear, you are hysterical—I must give you some morphine.” She went to
+a cupboard. But the wild fluttering of Sophie’s startled heart
+subsided—she refused the morphine, and at last they returned to the
+parlor.
+
+The next day was Good Friday, and of course there was service at the
+church, and the Rev. John Huss Withers was to preach his first sermon.
+Reader, do you happen to know what a great event the arrival of a new
+preacher is in a country neighborhood? Not only does the parish over
+which he is installed as minister, but every surrounding parish, forsake
+their own especial minister to flock to hear him.
+
+At an early hour two horses stood saddled at the gate of Grove Cottage,
+and the minister, Sophie, Emily, and her son, sallied out to mount them.
+When Sophie saw but two horses saddled, and knew that there were four
+persons to go to church, she looked with embarrassment at Emily.
+
+“You are to ride on a pillion behind Mr. Withers, Miss Churchill—and
+Gusty is to ride behind me.”
+
+The parson was already mounted, and before Sophie had time to reply, he
+rode up to where she was standing on the horse-block, stooped his giant
+arm, and lifting her lightly to the pillion, drew her arms around his
+waist and cantered off. Earth and sky swam together in Sophie’s vision
+as they went. Emily was in her saddle, and Kitty lifted up and set her
+boy behind her, and then taking the infant Hagar in her arms went into
+the house. Emily paced soberly along—Master Gusty was quarrelling all
+the way, asserting that it was _his_ right to ride and his mother ought
+to sit behind _him_, like the parson and Miss Sophie. Mr. Withers was
+waiting for them in the shadow of the forest just at its entrance. At
+another time Emily could scarcely have suppressed a smile at seeing the
+cold, dead white face and dilated eyes of Sophie Churchill, with her
+fingers, which spellbound she scarcely durst withdraw, stiff and pale as
+tallow candles thrown into strong relief upon the black broadcloth of
+the parson’s coat.
+
+“Where are your gloves, Miss Churchill?” said Emily.
+
+“I had not drawn them on, and I lost them on our ride. _I want to get
+down and go back and get them_,” said Sophie, in an imploring voice.
+
+“Mrs. May—ride forward, madam, and I will canter back with Miss
+Churchill in search of her gloves!”
+
+“No, no, no! no, I thank you!—it will be too late,” gasped Sophie—but
+even while she spoke he had wheeled his horse and was going back.
+
+“You should not have named your wish _to get down_ and return then,”
+said he, in his sweet, dear tones. They had ridden back about an eighth
+of a mile when Sophie, anxious to rejoin her other companions, said—
+
+“I think I lost my gloves about here.”
+
+Mr. Withers alighted, and placing the reins and his riding-whip in the
+hands of Miss Churchill, favored the poor girl with a look full in the
+face that froze the blood in her veins. She thought of the long ride
+they would now have to take through the forest alone, and her heart died
+within her. She watched him, nervously saw him pick up the gloves and
+turn to approach, she looked at him with the eyes of a startled fawn
+ready for flight—she met the same basilisk gaze—it maddened her—suddenly
+jerking the bit and putting whip to her horse, she sped from the spot
+like an arrow from a bow, and fled across the common with a vague idea
+of reaching her own home—he shouted:
+
+“The horse is running away with you! rein up your horse,” and flew after
+her. She reached the banks of the river—gave one frightened look behind,
+and madly urged her steed down the bank and into the rushing water
+swollen by the recent thaw. The water was deep, and her steed floundered
+and struggled with the waves just as Withers appeared at the top of the
+bank—sped down—dashed into the water and seizing the rein swayed the
+horse around—drew him to the beach, and led him dripping and struggling
+up the bank. When they were once more on firm, high ground, he paused to
+breathe the horse; the water was dripping from the dress of Sophie, and
+her wet clothes were clinging tightly about her limbs. He leaned upon
+his elbow upon the pommel of her saddle and said, gravely,
+
+“You are an interesting young lady, Miss Churchill; your feats of
+horsemanship are surprising.”
+
+Sophie’s sudden plunge-bath, and the real danger she had passed, had
+somewhat restored the tone of her nervous system by putting to flight
+her imaginary terrors. The horse had now recovered his wind and they set
+forward, the preacher leading the horse—they reached the cottage gate—he
+assisted Sophie to alight—as she reached the ground she said—
+
+“You had better push forward to church, Mr. Withers; you will be too
+late.”
+
+He took his watch calmly from his pocket and holding it near her face,
+said—
+
+“See, it wants a quarter to nine o’clock; if you hurry and change your
+dress we can get there in time.”
+
+“I am not going, sir.”
+
+“Then I shall stay home to take care of you—you need care after this
+morning’s adventure,” and so saying, he quietly began to unsaddle the
+horse.
+
+“Stop, I will go,” said Sophie, choosing the lighter evil, and she
+hurried in to change her dress.
+
+“What has happened, sir?” said Kitty, coming out.
+
+“The horse ran away with Miss Churchill,” replied he.
+
+Sophie now returned arrayed in a black silk, and was lifted tremblingly
+into her seat. They then set off at a brisk canter and soon entered the
+forest. Reader, do you like a dark forest road? If so, you would have
+been delighted with the forest road leading to this church, winding now
+through a deep dell where the branches met over head, and now up a steep
+hill over which the trees were thinly scattered. They had just entered a
+dark walk from which the thick overhanging branches excluded nearly
+every ray of light when Sophie, turning her head aside, her eyes fell
+upon some object couched in the underwood, her gaze was riveted, her
+eyes dilated, her lips fell apart, her face became ashy pale, and then a
+half-suppressed cry burst from her lips. The parson halted—turned around
+in his saddle—
+
+“What is the matter, Miss Churchill?”
+
+“Something frightened me in the bushes.”
+
+He looked scrutinizingly in every direction.
+
+“I see nothing—was it a wolf?”
+
+“No—let’s go on.”
+
+“Your heart is beating as though it would break its prison—you are
+shaking like an ague. Was it a bear?”
+
+“No, no—_do_ go on.”
+
+“_What_ was it then?”
+
+“Nothing, nothing—please go on.”
+
+“And yet you can scarcely keep your seat. Are you nervous, Miss
+Churchill?”
+
+“Yes, very.”
+
+“I should think so; you should have medical advice,” and touching his
+horse, they galloped forward.
+
+They soon entered an open forest glade in which stood the church, a red
+brick building, having the form of a cross. Many broken tombstones were
+all around it, and scattering trees to which were tied numerous horses,
+and nearly filling up the glade were hundreds of vehicles of every
+description, from the ox-cart to the splendid coach and pair. Alighting
+near a horse-block, he fastened his horse, and lifting her from the
+pillion, led her into the church, which was already crowded, and up the
+long middle aisle to the pew of Emily, which was the top pew on the
+right hand facing the pulpit; he opened the door, saw her seated, and
+passed on to his reading-desk. Emily observed the pale face and
+trembling frame of her friend, but had no opportunity of inquiring the
+cause, which she naturally associated with her delay in overtaking her.
+Nor was this opportunity afforded after church, when the congregation
+all crowded around to speak to their new minister. Mr. Gardiner Green, a
+wealthy planter, the nearest neighbor of Emily, performed the part of
+master of ceremonies. It is true that all had seen Mr. Withers at Mr.
+May’s funeral, but upon such an occasion as that, of course there could
+be but few introductions. It was an hour before the congregation were
+all in their saddles or their vehicles, and ready to disperse.
+
+When our little party were mounted and had entered the forest, the
+pastor said,
+
+“Your young friend, Miss Churchill, is a celebrated horsewoman, is she
+not, Mrs. May?”
+
+“_Very._ Sophie is the best rider of all the ladies of this county,”
+said Emily, unsuspiciously, “but what detained you so long?”
+
+“While I was hunting for Miss Churchill’s gloves, her horse suddenly
+started and ran off with her; dashed down the bank and into the river.
+She kept her seat like a heroine, and so was saved.”
+
+Emily evinced less surprise than might have been expected, merely
+remarking,
+
+“I have known Sophie Churchill to ford that river on horseback when a
+mere child.”
+
+“Yet Miss Churchill seems very timid too.”
+
+“She is. Her good horsemanship is merely habit—she has been accustomed
+to ride from infancy; but to-day Sophie certainly is nervous—what is the
+matter with you, Sophie, my love?”
+
+Sophie spoke of her fright in the forest, yet persisted in refusing to
+explain it. They reached home. Dinner was ready, the ladies laid off
+their bonnets, and all sat down to the table. Immediately after dinner
+the minister arose and retired to his chamber, and Sophie drew a long
+free breath, as though a stricture were removed from her chest.
+
+“Come into our bedroom, and let’s put on our loose wrappers and lie
+down, Sophie; it is really fatiguing these long rides to church and
+back.”
+
+And she arose, and Sophie followed her. Emily assisted her off with her
+dress, and taking a bottle of cologne, washed her face and head until
+she looked better; and then, as they rested on the bed, she said,—
+
+“Now, Sophie, tell me about this forest fright, for there is more in it
+than you would confess to any one but me.”
+
+“Perhaps you will think it imagination, or nothing, yet, as we entered
+the deep dell, just a quarter of a mile behind the church, I happened to
+turn my head, and low, crouched down to the ground, I saw—”
+
+“What?”
+
+“The wannest, most spectral face that could be conceived, with wild eyes
+and streaming hair.”
+
+“A runaway mulatto!”
+
+“I tell you _no_! The face was whiter than snow—the eyes blue, and
+blazing in their steady gaze upon me; the hair golden, streaked with
+silver. The skeleton hand was like a bird’s claw with emaciation, and
+the finger pointed to the minister.”
+
+Emily listened with an incredulous smile, then she said—
+
+“A figure conjured up by imagination, Sophie—a mere creature of your
+disordered nerves. You should read Sir Walter Scott’s letters on
+Demonology, and then you would understand. But, dear, how do you and the
+minister get on? Do you know I think you are a favorite with him.”
+
+“Oh! God forbid!” said Sophie, clasping her hands.
+
+“Why, my dear, what is the matter?”
+
+“_Oh!_ I have such an antipathy to him—such a sickening, deadly
+antipathy to him; when his eyes meet mine, or his hand falls upon mine,
+a cold chill runs all through me, and I grow blind and faint.”
+
+“Well, my love, fortunately you are not obliged to like him. Yet he will
+be very popular, Sophie. Did you observe the even unusual respect paid
+him by his congregation to-day? His sermon made a marked impression. All
+the widows and girls will be setting their caps for him, but you, I
+think, will win the prize.”
+
+“Emily, I am going home to-morrow.”
+
+“_No_, my love, no; why, what put that into your head?”
+
+“I do not like to stay here; I do not like Mr. Withers, and I do not
+like the tone of your conversation so soon after your husband’s death.”
+
+The tears overflowed Emily’s eyes.
+
+“I am wrong—I am wrong, to forget for a moment the loss of so kind a
+friend; and yet, Sophie, death never did make me gloomy. Sickness does,
+suffering does, but I quite as often envy as regret the departed. Think,
+Sophie, he has rejoined in heaven the wife of his youth and middle life,
+‘the Michal of his bloom,’ whom he loved as he never could love _me_,
+‘the Abishag of his age.’ She was his companion for time and for
+eternity; I, only a fellow-passenger for a short stage—the _end_ of his
+journey, the _beginning_ of mine.”
+
+Here a summons to tea broke up their conference. They dressed and went
+out; the minister was there before them. They sat down to tea.
+
+The next morning Sophie Churchill made an effort to return home, but she
+was overruled. It was Saturday, Emily said, and she must stay to attend
+church the next day, Easter Sunday. She complied, and attended church
+with the family, without meeting with another adventure of any sort. On
+Easter Monday Sophie mounted on Emily’s horse, and carrying little Hagar
+on her lap, set out for her home at Heath Hall, attended by Master Gusty
+Wilde May as escort, who fancied his manhood greatly accelerated by the
+honor of his office.
+
+I told you that the house at the Heath was large and square. It faced
+the bay, and a wide hall ran from the central front entrance through to
+the back—from the middle of this hall, and facing the entrance, arose
+the wide staircase, whose balustrades turned off in a scroll on each
+side of the bottom steps. Under these stairs was a large closet where
+household utensils were kept. On each side of this wide hall were
+opposite doors—the left hand door letting into the parlor, the right
+hand door into the ruinous drawing-room. The dim old parlor, with the
+sleeping-room above it, and the kitchen near it, was the only habitable
+part of the house, and even these rooms leaked in rainy weather. One
+evening, about a week from the day of her arrival at home, Sophie
+Churchill sat alone before the smouldering fire in the wide arched
+fire-place; a lamp burned on the little old spiderlegged workstand; the
+moonlight streamed through the branches of the old poplar trees that
+swayed against the four gothic-arched and curtainless front windows. The
+room was nearly bare of furniture; no carpet was on the floor; and the
+once bright-colored landscape paper on the walls illustrating Fox’s
+Christian Martyrs was torn and faded. It was a weird scene enough. The
+figures of the Martyrs were large as life. Upon the wall opposite the
+fire-place, and beside the door leading into the hall, was the
+representation of a Christian suffering the baptism of fire; and as the
+ray of the lamp flickered upon it, the form of the martyr seemed to
+writhe and quiver—seemed to dip and rise from the flames, and the
+features of his tormentors to grin and leer. Sophie was there knitting,
+and her large brown eyes were somewhat larger, with a vague terror that
+had fallen upon her spirits as soon as she was left alone. And well
+might she feel this; except the infant and the beldam, there was not a
+soul within half a mile of her, and the forest behind was known to be
+the refuge of a runaway negro—a gigantic fellow, whose depredations in
+the neighborhood were violent and frequent.
+
+At the time I write of, the most heinous crimes were sometimes
+perpetrated by fugitive slaves in their desperation; their
+motives—revenge, impending starvation, or a passionate desire for
+liberty. They are the banditti of the Southern States. The forests of
+Maryland and Virginia contain caves, once the resort of runaway negroes,
+from whence at night they issued and fell upon the unwary traveller or
+the unprotected house to levy their contributions.
+
+“Jim Hice,” the man whose depredations now spread terror through the
+neighborhood, was a fugitive not only from slavery, but from justice.
+Impelled by starvation, he had once, after watching a long time outside
+of the window to know that the coast was clear, entered the kitchen of
+an old friend and begged “a mouthful to save me from starving.” This
+friend gave him a can of whiskey, which he swallowed at a draught, and
+which, from the emptiness of his stomach, immediately intoxicated him;
+and then offered him a hunk of corn pone and a herring, which he began
+to devour like a wild beast. But before he could finish it, the door
+opened and the overseer of the estate appeared. The negro recognised
+him—his eyes flew wildly around. He sprang to the window, but was seized
+by the hands of the overseer before he could pass through it. They
+struggled for life and death—but the struggle was unequal. Soon the
+gigantic negro had hugged his captor to his bosom with one strong arm,
+while with the other hand he drew from his pocket a butcher knife and
+plunged it to the handle into his chest—then dropping him, sprang over
+his body, cleared the door, and fled to the woods.
+
+The officers of justice were soon in pursuit—a price was set upon his
+head—volunteering parties set out in search of him, and he was traced to
+the forest behind Heath Hall. There, in spite of the most vigorous hunt
+with horses and hounds in the deep dells and dense thickets of the
+forest, he remained concealed.
+
+It was a week since they had lost trace of him there—and old Cumbo had
+just brought the news to Sophie that day—hence Sophie’s dilating eyes
+and starting nerves at every sound. At last, though but eight o’clock,
+she could bear it no longer—so wrought up had her nerves become that as
+the lamp flickered against the walls, the old figures in the landscape
+paper, Fox’s Martyrs, seemed to dance and jibber in their flames. The
+rattling branches against the windows seemed the breaking, crushing
+crossbar of the burglar, while the glancing of the moonbeams between
+them seemed like the gliding about of spirits from another world. Sophie
+arose with a cautious tread, as though stealing from enemies, and opened
+the door of the great hall from the centre of which the staircase
+ascended. She held her lamp in one hand, her knitting in the other, and
+her heart was beating and her eyes half starting as she opened the door
+and prepared to bound up the stairs to her own, and little Hagar’s room.
+Somehow all her vague imaginary terrors gave way, while she held little
+Hagar in her arms, as though there was safety in the presence of infant
+innocence. She opened the door, and there before her, joining her, stood
+the gigantic negro, with wild, haggard face, and bloodshot eyes! With a
+piercing scream, Sophie dropped her candle, which was extinguished in
+the fall, and fled back into the parlor.
+
+He followed her.
+
+She had sunk, paralysed with extreme terror, into a chair.
+
+The negro stood before her again, and extending one talon-like hand,
+exclaimed—
+
+“I am not going to hurt you, Miss Sophie—give me some victuals—I am
+starving!”
+
+But Sophie only gazed at him with a startled and stony eye—her senses
+petrified.
+
+“Give me some food, Miss Churchill, I die—”
+
+_Sophie_ was dying, or seemed to be—her head had fallen back against the
+chair—her chin had dropped, and her stony eyes, started from her chalky
+face, were riveted upon her fearful visitor.
+
+_His_ eyes were hollow and fiery, and his giant frame was trembling in
+every limb. He dropped on the floor before her, and said—
+
+“Miss Sophie, Miss Sophie, look at me. I won’t hurt you—how could I hurt
+you when I can scarcely stand! Give me some victuals—I have not tasted
+food for four days. Give me some, Miss Sophie!—Oh don’t be scared at
+_me_—not at _me_—who used to ride you on my shoulder when you were a
+baby—how could _I_ hurt you?”
+
+Just then the door opened, and Sophie, with a scream of joy, bounded
+from her chair, sprang over the prostrate negro, and flew into the arms
+of old Cumbo and fainted.
+
+The pastor was behind the old woman. The negro seeing her, started up,
+ran and shook the window sash—it resisted his efforts to raise or break;
+sprang to the opposite side, tried another window in vain—then attempted
+to dart past the minister who stood in the door. Mr. Withers extended
+his arm, intercepted and captured the fugitive. He struggled—Mr. Withers
+was cool, strong, and determined—held him fast by the wrists—trying to
+get them together that he might bind them. He stood firm, while the
+negro—his eyes glaring like flame in a dark night, his teeth set, his
+thick neck swollen, his starting muscles, like knotted cords in his
+sinewy arms, fell violently from side to side in his desperate efforts
+to escape.
+
+He had been starving, and the factitious strength lent by despair soon
+failed—his struggles became fainter and fainter—and ceased as Mr.
+Withers bore him down to the floor, placed his knee upon his breast,
+crossed his wrists, and hallooed to the old woman to bring a cord to
+bind him.
+
+Old Cumbo, in a distant part of the room, was bathing her young
+mistress’s face with water—Sophia Churchill was recovering from her
+faint. The old woman hobbled up, shaking her hand in the face of the
+captive as she passed him, exclaiming, “You gallows face vilyun you!”
+went into the hall, opened a dark closet under the stairs, and drew out
+a clothes line, which she brought to Mr. Withers. He bound his prisoner
+securely, and then stood up from his labors to breathe; his eyes fell on
+the drooping form of Sophia Churchill, he walked up to her and stooping
+over her spake softly,
+
+“You have been in some danger and very great alarm, Miss Churchill; I
+thank God who inspired my visit to you this evening. I just chanced to
+knock at your hall door, as your old servant, aroused by your screams,
+had come down to your assistance; she opened the door and admitted me.”
+
+Sophia was still trembling in every limb, and the tears were trickling
+down her cheeks.
+
+“And now, Miss Churchill, I must leave you immediately to proceed to the
+village and procure an officer; the miscreant must be lodged in jail
+to-night. Don’t feel any more alarm; he is perfectly secure, or if it
+would relieve you, we can lock him up; have you a room?”
+
+“No,” said Sophia, “don’t lock him up.”
+
+“It would be altogether a work of supererogation, I think. Well, Miss
+Churchill, I will leave you now, and return within two hours.”
+
+So saying the minister took his hat and withdrew. Sophia remained
+leaning her cheek upon her hand. The old woman stood stooping over the
+negro with her hands resting on her knees, peering down in his face.
+
+“Kik—kik—kik!” (laughing), “you ready trussed for hanging up now, ain’t
+you? kik—kik—kik—kik! how you feel when git rope roun’ neck, hey? Mind,
+I gwine see you hang, hear?”
+
+“Cumbo, come away,” commanded Miss Churchill, as sternly as she knew how
+to speak.
+
+The old woman did not move nor take off her eyes from her fallen foe,
+but answered, “Oh, he one gran’ rascal, Missy, one gallows face vilyun
+as ever lib—use to drive me ’bout ’mong corn hills, when he great man,
+when he Massa Churchill oberseer—black oberseer—_black_ gemmun—_black_
+Massa! kik—kik—kik!” And the old woman snapped her fingers under the
+nose of the prisoner.
+
+The harshness of black overseers, who are often selected for their
+greater vigilance and severity, and the hatred the negroes feel towards
+them, is notorious in the Southern States.
+
+The old woman continued her abuse, the negro suffered it without reply.
+Sophia Churchill watched him
+
+               “Until the pity of her heart grew strong.”
+
+At last the old woman said,
+
+“Now I gwine out, see ef dey comin’ wid cons’ble,” and left the room.
+
+Sophia looked at the poor wretch tied like a beast for slaughter, and
+thought of the dreadful death hanging over him, until pity overcame
+terror and conquered reason. She arose, and drawing near him stealthily
+as one would approach a bound tiger, she said gently:
+
+“Jim, I’m sorry for you.”
+
+“Oh! Miss Sophia,” said he weeping.
+
+“_Very_ sorry for you. Oh! Jim, _why_ did you run away, and _why_ did
+you break into houses and rob, and _why, why_ did you stab the
+overseer?”
+
+“_Is_ he dead? tell me _that, is_ he dead, Miss Sophia?”
+
+“No, Jim, he is not dead, he has recovered, so you are free from
+blood-guiltiness.”
+
+“Thank God, then, I’m no murderer.”
+
+“But, poor wretch, your fate in this world will be the same as though
+you were. You made an assault upon the life of an overseer in his
+attempt to re-capture you; not just to _see_ what you have brought
+yourself to.”
+
+The negro wept outright.
+
+“But I did not come over here to reprove you, Jim. Jim, if I were to cut
+your bands and let you go, what would you do?” He half started up, gazed
+intently on her and said,
+
+“I would go down on my knees and bless you; I’d learn to pray, so I
+could pray for you.”
+
+“I don’t mean that; would you try to reform?”
+
+“Miss Sophia, would you believe me if I were to promise?”
+
+Sophia was silent.
+
+“There, I knew you wouldn’t, Miss Sophia, you couldn’t if you were to
+try,” and he sighed heavily.
+
+“Jim, I will let you go. I don’t know whether I am doing right or wrong,
+but I cannot bear the thought of your wretched condition, and the awful
+fate that too surely awaits you, if you are imprisoned to-night. Listen,
+Jim. I have a strong fishing-boat, moored at the beach, at the foot of
+the promontory; two oars and some fishing tackle are in it—in the little
+fishing-shed under the brow of the rock there is a sail. When I cut
+these cords, fly, take the boat, the oars, and the sail, put out into
+the bay, keep near the coast, and _up_ the bay, until you reach the
+Susquehanna; go a few miles up that, and then land. You will be in
+Pennsylvania, and you will be safe. And oh, listen! Go to work—steal no
+more, for every future crime you commit will rest upon my head for
+permitting you to escape.” Sophie was now trembling at the
+responsibility she was assuming. “Look you, Jim, resolve upon amendment,
+pray God to help, and _I_,” said she sternly, “_I_ shall pray too. I
+shall pray God to help you to reform, and I shall pray God to grant you
+a safe termination to your highly dangerous voyage, if you are _going_
+to reform; if not, if he sees your heart is hardened, I shall pray him
+in that case to let you drown or fall into the hands of your pursuers,
+that my mercy to you may not turn out cruelty to others.”
+
+She went into the kitchen, got a pone of cornbread and a knife, returned
+and cut his cords. He sprang upon his feet, and scarcely waiting to
+receive the pone she gave him, fled from the house.
+
+Sophie sat down trembling in her seat. She had been afraid of him even
+while talking to him and setting him at liberty; now she drew a long
+breath, with an inexpressible feeling of relief. But soon came other
+thoughts; her doubtful act of mercy had been a matter of feeling
+entirely, and by no means of judgment, and she did not now feel
+altogether assured of its prosperity; besides she feared that she had
+made herself in some way amenable to the laws, by assisting a felon to
+escape. Sophie was really growing sick at heart; she resolved to avoid
+an explanation and seek her rest. She went to her chamber, undressed and
+retired to bed, where, with little Hagar clasped in her arms, she tried
+to forget in the presence of innocence the scene of horror she had
+lately witnessed. Presently she heard the officers enter the room below;
+exclamations of surprise and regret (oaths were spared in the pastor’s
+presence), and then she heard old Cumbo hobbling up the stairs. She
+entered her room, exclaiming in tones of extreme indignation—
+
+“Ha! hi! _What_ do you think, Miss Soph, do you think that gallows-faced
+vilyun ain’t broke loose and _gone_!”
+
+Sophie raised herself on her elbow and looked at the old woman without
+speaking.
+
+“Yes, indeed! broke loose and _gone_! There’s no tellin’ what _he
+wouldn’t_ do, the ungrateful wretch, to break loose and go! after Massa
+Widders con’cendin’ tu him too! Oh! he’d ’ny his Saviour—_he’d_ do
+anything.”
+
+“Cumbo, will you be kind enough to go down to Mr. Withers, and tell him
+that I am sick—_very_ sick—and ask him to excuse my absence!”
+
+“An’ nuff to make you! an’ nuff to make you! I’m sick myself; I did hope
+to see that gran’ rascal hang. I did _that_, and now jes see what a
+’spointment.”
+
+And the old woman hobbled away, and soon she heard her visitors leave
+the house, speaking their regret and sympathy as they went. Old Cumbo
+came up, and spreading a pallet near her young mistress’s bed, lay down
+to sleep, or rather to talk.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER V.
+                            THE PHILOSOPHER.
+
+
+  “Anxiety and Ennui are the Scylla and Charybdis of the voyage of
+  Life.”
+
+                                              RAMSAY ON HUMAN HAPPINESS.
+
+
+The next morning early Emily May was over at the hall. She rode her own
+saddle-horse and little Gusty rode another, behind which was fixed a
+pillion, upon which Sophie was to return to the Grove—at least, so said
+Mrs. May, for she persisted that Heath Hall was neither a safe nor a
+proper place of residence for Miss Churchill. But neither coaxing
+threats nor arguments would have prevailed with Sophie to leave the
+Heath—her antipathy to Emily’s boarder was undiminished. Emily spent the
+day with her, and at nightfall left, disappointed.
+
+That evening, after the beldam and the infant were asleep, Sophie as
+usual sat alone in her large old parlor. She felt a sense of security
+and peace, and plied her knitting-needles diligently—her thoughts
+occupied with no heavier matter than the heeling and toeing of little
+Hagar’s red worsted stockings, or at most, the well-being of her cow and
+calf, or her vegetable garden, for already upon the maiden had descended
+matronly cares. She sat there knitting, and presently a rap—a calm,
+self-possessed rap was heard at the hall door; she glanced at the old
+clock in the corner, it was seven o’clock; she passed to the door and
+reached it just as the rap was repeated; she opened it, and Mr. Withers,
+the minister, stood before her; his thin dark figure looming up in the
+moonshine.
+
+“Good evening, Miss Churchill,” said he, stepping in, taking her hand
+and pressing it gently. “You have quite recovered your fright, I trust?”
+
+“Quite, sir,” replied Sophie, laconically, as she reluctantly led the
+way into the room and set a chair for her minister on the opposite side
+of her workstand. He dropped himself into it, and extending his long
+legs towards the little fire, he said,—
+
+“You were not at church last Sabbath, Miss Sophie, and it was with a
+view of inquiring the reason of your absence that I came here—may I make
+that inquiry now?”
+
+“Except while with Mrs. May I have not been to church for many months.”
+
+“May I inquire, as your pastor, why?”
+
+“The distance is considerable; that, in Summer, would be no objection,
+but during the Winter and Spring the roads are nearly impassable to a
+foot passenger, and I have no conveyance.”
+
+“Ah!” said the minister, a gleam of pleasure lighting up his dark
+countenance, “then I am very happy in possessing the means of obviating
+that objection; having just purchased a gig, I shall be very happy in
+making a small circuit in my ride, for the purpose of taking you to
+church.”
+
+“You will be giving yourself too much trouble, sir,” said Sophie.
+
+“Not so, my dear; you must see that to _me_ at least it will be a
+pleasure.”
+
+“You are very obliging, sir.”
+
+Sophie’s eyes were fixed upon her knitting. She appeared to be counting
+the stitches. He found it very difficult to support a conversation with
+her, but he persevered, questioning her with a pastor’s privilege with a
+young parishioner, upon the state of her affairs in general, her income,
+the number of slaves on hire, the resources of her farm, her fishing
+landing, her moor, her garden, and her dairy. She gave him laconic, but
+straightforward answers, and at the end of the colloquy he mused, and,
+half to himself, said, that the place had been very much abused, that
+with ease it might yet be reclaimed, and a handsome property made of it;
+and then, at the end of an hour, he arose and took leave.
+
+Sophie rejoiced that his visit was at an end. Throughout his whole stay
+she had not once raised her eyes to his countenance.
+
+Two evenings from that, at the same hour, and in the same place, Sophie
+sat alone, a rap was heard at the door, and again she arose, opened it,
+and admitted the minister; again he found a seat at the opposite side of
+her workstand; and again he freely used his pastoral privilege of
+questioning her; but this time it was not upon external circumstances,
+but upon the operations of her mind and heart; and how adroitly he did
+it—_with his pastoral privilege_—and but for her antipathy, how easy had
+been his task, with one of Sophie’s _naiveté_. Yes, she admitted, in
+reply to his searching questions, that even she, young as she was,
+sometimes felt life to wane and sink as though her very soul was dying
+in her bosom, that sometimes life appeared to have no object worth
+pursuing.
+
+“You suffer from ennui then, Miss Churchill, perhaps you would not feel
+this so much in the company of your friend, Mrs. May, would you?”
+
+“Yes, sir, I have felt dull even with Emily.”
+
+“Do you suffer from _ennui_ when busied in your garden, your dairy, or
+at your needle-work?”
+
+“Yes, sir, for it seems to me sometimes a sad waste of life to pass it
+_only_ in feeding the stomach and clothing the back.”
+
+Sophie was certainly beginning to be more communicative; the pastor was
+drawing her out. He looked at her now with more interest than ever, as
+he said—
+
+“And yet, Miss Churchill, there is your friend, Mrs. May, who finds her
+happiness in her daily life and household duties. How do you account for
+her habitual cheerfulness; or do you suppose that she is ever a victim
+to ennui?”
+
+“_Never!_ But then Emily May is a ‘fine woman,’ every one says so—‘an
+excellent manager’—the best housekeeper in the county, and she is happy,
+busy and happy, because she deserves to be. I am, or if I could afford
+it, _should_ be idle, for I am not as fond of household work as Emily
+is, and I am discontented, and as idleness and discontent are sin, and
+sin is misery, therefore I am sometimes miserable, it is quite plain.”
+
+“Why don’t you overcome this sinful tendency then?”
+
+“As yet I have not been able to do it, I resolve—”
+
+“‘And re-resolve,’ and will be likely to ‘die the same,’ if you do not
+get to the root of your malady and understand it. Your explanation” (and
+the pastor smiled a slightly cynical smile) “is an orthodox piece of
+theology enough, as far as it goes. Idleness is certainly sinful and a
+fruitful cause of discontent, because it is opposed to the principles of
+our organization; there is no atom in the universe idle for a single
+instant, nor are we, even our bodies, _ever_ idle, even when sleeping,
+for the heart, lungs, and brain continue to perform their functions,
+even when _dead_; for when the dust returns to dust, its particles,
+through a thousand ramifications, perform a thousand services in the
+universe. And the mind? Is the mind _ever_ idle? Has the course of
+thought been once really arrested since it first began? It has flowed in
+countless millions of courses; it has been suddenly turned aside, but
+has it ever stopped? Your heart has beaten, your brain worked for twenty
+years, to what purpose? No, Miss Churchill, by _idleness_ you mean
+misdirection of energies; and by _discontent_ the pain that naturally
+follows therefrom. Listen to me, Miss Churchill.”
+
+Sophie was listening to him with interest—these thoughts, however old,
+were to the unopened mind of the young girl new and striking.
+
+“Listen, I can explain your friend’s happiness and your own misery,
+better and more satisfactorily than you have done—and by doing so,
+illustrate the lesson I wish to give you; and further and more
+completely to illustrate my theory, I must bring in another acquaintance
+of ours, Mrs. Gardiner Green; what is her character, Sophie?”
+
+“An elegant woman, all the neighbors say, but always in a bustle, always
+overheated about something, always anxious.”
+
+“I thought so! she will do for an illustration of my first class _à
+merveille_.
+
+“Listen then, Miss Churchill—the secret of happiness is _this_: the
+striking of a just balance between the desires and the faculties; if the
+desires are greater than the faculties, they will goad you on to efforts
+beyond your strength, and anxiety will destroy happiness, as in the case
+of Mrs. Gardiner Green, whose desires Heaven knows are low enough—being
+only to shine as the bright particular star of a country neighborhood—to
+have the best house, the best equipage, to wear the best dresses, and
+give the best dinners; grovelling as these wishes are, they yet exceed
+her faculties for accomplishing them—hence her eternal fret. I can
+further illustrate this class of unfortunates by a notorious name, Aaron
+Burr; brilliant as were his faculties his desires yet transcended
+them—he wished to rule alike despotically over the hearts and minds of
+men and women, and over the nations of the earth. In both these cases
+that I have cited, one from the highest, the other from the lowest grade
+of mind, the evil was the same—the balance between the faculties and the
+desires was not struck. Well, Miss Churchill, you are musing—upon what?”
+
+“I was thinking, had Aaron Burr had the power of accomplishing his
+ambitious desires, or had Mrs. Gardiner Green the ability to carry out
+her vain ones, would either be any happier?”
+
+“That involves another question of moral philosophy to which we have not
+arrived, and which we will not discuss just now. We are speaking of
+present and positive causes of unhappiness, and not of future
+contingencies, Sophie—I beg your pardon, Miss Churchill.”
+
+“Call me Sophie, I am more accustomed to that name,” said she, rather
+timidly. Truly Miss Churchill was “coming round,” and the minister felt
+it, for he replied gently,
+
+“And I am more accustomed to hear you called Sophie—and,” added he
+softly, “to _think_ of you as Sophie.”
+
+She avoided meeting his eyes, which she felt fixed upon her, and a
+strange pain, dissipating all the intellectual pleasures she was
+beginning to receive from his society, crept into her heart—she blamed
+herself for having spoken in the manner she did.
+
+He resumed,
+
+“You, Sophie, belong to the second class of my unfortunates, the class
+whose _faculties_ transcend their desires, whose peculiar torment is
+_ennui_. You, Sophie, have some noble faculty or faculties unemployed,
+and they are corroding in your bosom, and you call your suffering
+discontent. Your remedy is to discover these latent faculties (for very
+often these are as unknown or unsuspected by their possessor, as is some
+obscure physical disease), and develope and cultivate them—it is their
+suppressed life that is torturing you now—bring them out, use them, give
+them a field and you will be happy.”
+
+“But how?” said Sophie, looking up again.
+
+“I will teach you by-and-by. Pass we now to the third class, or those
+whose faculties and desires are fairly balanced, who suffer neither from
+ennui on the one side nor anxiety on the other. Your friend, Mrs. May,
+is a perfect example of this happy organization; her whole soul is in
+her house and family; she has no wish beyond the well ordering of her
+dwelling, the propriety of her dress, her table, her manners and
+conversation, and the education of her son, and her faculties are fully
+equal to, and not greater than her wishes; thus she is always calmly
+busy and serenely happy.”
+
+He now arose to take leave, and Sophie took the lamp to light him to the
+door. When they got there he held out his hand to bid her good night; he
+caught her hand, held it a moment while his glance sought her eyes, met
+them, and he murmured in a low earnest voice, “Sophie.”
+
+She withdrew her hand, dropped her eyes, and a chill crept over her
+frame. He whispered “good night,” set his hat upon his head, and walked
+off. His tall thin figure was soon seen stalking up and down the
+undulating hills that descended to the river.
+
+Two or three days passed and Miss Churchill saw no more of the minister.
+“I wonder if he will come to-night,” had been the secret thought of
+Sophie as evening approached each day; and half with dread, half with
+hope, she listened for his knock. His last visit had been on Wednesday.
+Saturday evening came. Sophie had completed her week’s work, and was
+sitting at the window with her hands folded on her lap, and looking out
+into the moonlit scene. The moon was now full, and the broad river and
+the boundless bay were reflected in its light and seen between the
+clumps of intervening trees. At last upon the path issuing from the
+clump of trees on the left, was seen the tall figure of the minister.
+Sophie withdrew from the window, and soon after Mr. Withers was admitted
+by old Cumbo, who had not yet retired to bed.
+
+“Well, Miss Churchill,” said he, advancing to her side, “have you
+succeeded in discovering those faculties, whose corrosion in idleness is
+giving you so much distress?”
+
+“I cannot flatter myself, sir, with the idea of possessing any faculties
+above the simple discharge of plain duties.”
+
+“Then you are quite happy in knitting, sewing, and watching old Cumbo
+milk the cows and weed the garden; and you never wish these occupations
+varied except by rest and recreation?”
+
+Sophie was silent. He had now taken a seat by her side on the settle
+under the window. Sophie’s eyes were riveted abstractedly on the
+opposite wall, papered with the martyrdom of St. Petronella and the four
+noble Roman ladies who suffered with her; the scene represented the
+martyrdom at the moment when life was offered the young saint as she
+stood upon the scaffold, on condition of her recantation. She stood in
+the centre of the scaffold arrayed in a scant white tunic, her white and
+slender limbs exposed, her hands clasped upon her bosom, and her fine
+blue eyes raised to heaven, her golden locks rolling to her waist;
+behind her, leaning on his axe, whose end rested on the block, stood the
+executioner; on her left hand stood the group of imperial officers, with
+their offer of mercy; on her right knelt her aged father with his grey
+locks streaming on the wind, his face upturned to hers in the anguish of
+supplication, holding towards her a babe of a few days old—_her_ babe,
+of which she had been delivered in prison—appealing to her by the
+venerableness of his own grey hairs, the innocence of its infancy, and
+the helplessness of both, to avoid death, to recant her faith, and to
+live for them; but the eyes of the saint never fell from their high
+glance, the look alike above the terror, the bribe, and the love below
+her.
+
+“Well, Miss Churchill, when you have contemplated that saint, which the
+painter has martyred worse than the Pagans, to your heart’s content, you
+will give me an answer, perhaps, or is it so familiar that you never see
+it?”
+
+“It is very familiar, sir, but it never wearies me; and now that you
+remind me of it, I sometimes, when I have nothing to do in the house,
+and when the weather is too inclement for me to go out, reproduce these
+scenes with a pencil and paper, and sometimes,” said she, blushing
+deeply, “illustrate them with pen and ink.”
+
+“You draw, and write poetry; will you permit me to see some of your
+productions?”
+
+“I try, but fail in both, sir; and if you will pardon me, I would prefer
+not to expose my folly further.”
+
+The pastor urged his point in vain, Sophie gently but firmly resisted.
+
+But at this moment old Cumbo, who had hobbled out of the room, hobbled
+back, and before Sophie suspected her purpose, thrust into the pastor’s
+hands a dilapidated old portfolio, grumbling out,
+
+“I telled her so—wouldn’t b’lieve ole nigger, how de church would be
+down on top ob her for make de image ob ebery ting in heaben above, in
+de earf beneaf, an’ de waters under de earf. I telled her how ’twould
+be.”
+
+The minister examined the contents of the portfolio with a critic’s eye;
+it was filled with very mediocre drawings, and very common-place
+versicles; in vain did the pastor look for one single stray gleam of
+genius; no more flashes of the fire divine were to be seen in her work
+than in her own soft brown eyes. The minister returned the papers to the
+portfolio, and handed it back to the old negress, who stood leaning over
+her stick in chuckling expectation of hearing her young mistress soundly
+lectured upon breaking the first commandment.
+
+“This is idleness, this is play, this is not your vocation, Miss
+Churchill,” and looking upon Sophie’s round face, large soft eyes, and
+pouting lips, he said,
+
+“I think after all, those strong faculties that want expression reside
+in your _heart_, not in your _head_, Miss Churchill.” Then, as though he
+had regretted his speech, he was suddenly silent.
+
+After a while he arose to take leave, saying as he left the house,
+
+“I will call at nine to-morrow, to take you to church, Sophie.”
+
+The next morning he called in his vehicle. He found Sophie seated at the
+window with little Hagar on her lap. She was teaching her to read, and
+her whole countenance was irradiated with the love of her work. The
+child’s little wild dark face was sparkling, too; she had succeeded in
+arousing and riveting her mind. As the eyes of the minister fell through
+the open window upon this scene he made two silent comments: “Her
+vocation is that of a teacher,” and “That child has far more genius than
+her instructress;” and then he passed by the window into the house.
+
+“Good morning, Miss Churchill. Come, we are waiting for you. Mrs.
+Gardiner Green has been kind enough to ride over with me.”
+
+Sophie gave little Hagar into the charge of old Cumbo, and went away to
+put on her bonnet. She was surprised that Mrs. Gardiner Green, who had
+scarcely ever condescended to notice her, should have been so kind upon
+this occasion; had Sophie Churchill known a little more of the world she
+would have seen nothing strange in this change. Even when seated by her
+side the affability of the lady became almost oppressive.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VI.
+                         THE YOUNG LIEUTENANT.
+
+            “A stalwart, active, soldier-looking stripling,
+            Handsome as Hercules ere his first labor,
+            With a brow of thought beyond his years,
+            When in repose, till his eye kindles up
+            In answering yours.”
+                                    WERNER.
+
+                “Behind a darker hour ascends.”
+                                                MARMION.
+
+
+The minister had discovered Sophie Churchill’s vocation by the subtle
+sympathy that existed between the instructress and the pupil, in the
+little scene he had witnessed. He was not backward in improving his
+discovery.
+
+“We are very much in need of a parish-school, Miss Churchill,” said he
+one evening as he sat with her. “I do not mean by that a free-school,
+but a school for the instruction of the younger children connected with
+the congregation. I have conversed with several of my parishioners, and
+they all favor the plan of establishing one. The circumstances of the
+surrounding neighborhood point to Heath Hall as its locality, and to the
+young lady of Heath Hall as its mistress. This has also been named and
+approved, and I come on the part of the vestry, who will resolve
+themselves into a board of school trustees, to lay the subject before
+you for consideration. What do you think of it, Miss Churchill?”
+
+“Oh, if I were only fit for it!”
+
+“You are the most proper person for it that I know. The faculty of
+teaching is a natural gift, like painting or poetry, and it is _your_
+gift; you can infuse into the mind of a tolerably intelligent child all
+your own knowledge, and not only so, but if you possess the faculty in
+its perfection, as I think you do, you can arouse the mind of a dull
+child, and inspire that of a darkened one with intelligence.”
+
+“But I am really _so_ ignorant.”
+
+“That is a matter of secondary importance—knowledge can be acquired. You
+possess the first requisite, that which never _can_ be acquired, the
+natural adaptation for the profession. Why, Sophie, I have known men of
+the finest talents and the highest attainments in science and
+literature, fine classical and mathematical scholars, who could not for
+the soul of them convey into a child’s mind the reason why you sometimes
+borrow ten and carry one in the rule of subtraction; and I have known
+such men at the head of large academies, or filling professors’ chairs
+in colleges, advanced to their post of responsibility upon account of
+their vast acquirements in knowledge and their unimpeachable morality.
+Now this would seem to be all that is required, yet people never take
+into account the attractions a profession should have for its votary. So
+these men of unimpeachable morality and unexcelled intelligence pass
+their time and spend their energies in beating the air, while their
+pupils are unimproved, except, perhaps, by the instruction of others.”
+
+“That is strange,” said Sophie.
+
+“You think it is. So a musical genius of acute ear wonders, until he
+understands how another of no ear can sing out of tune.”
+
+“I can certainly teach easily and quickly everything that I know
+thoroughly, and some things that I do not know thoroughly, for sometimes
+when trying to explain to little Hagar a subject whose boundaries are
+indistinct to me, a gleam of light breaks into my mind, and all is clear
+to my vision—clear to its fullest extent, and my little pupil, at the
+end of her lesson, knows more than her teacher did at its commencement.”
+
+“Yes, and yet you, Sophie, stand merely upon the threshold of the temple
+of knowledge, and can do what some of the high priests of the altar
+would fail in attempting. Thus a teacher’s efficiency should be judged
+not by his own reputation for natural intelligence or acquired
+knowledge, but by his ability to convey the same to his pupils, to be
+tested by the actual progress of his pupils. If people would only follow
+the natural bent of their faculties, how much swindling, cheating,
+idleness, humbuggery, hypocrisy, _misery_ would be saved; had _I_ done
+so how much—”
+
+He stopped and bit his lip.
+
+“Your pupils at first will be the youngest children of the congregation
+who are old enough to attend school. While instructing them you will be
+cultivating your own mind and adding to your stores of information; in
+this latter part of the plan I shall assist you, Miss Churchill. It will
+give me pleasure to be your teacher, for though I have no particular
+vocation for the profession, yet as it is so much easier to teach a
+grown person than a child, for in the former case the pupil meets one
+more than half way, and in the latter case one has to go _all_ the way
+and charm the pupil _out and on_, I shall have no great trouble with
+you. And by next year you will be able to take a more advanced class of
+young ladies.”
+
+Then with Sophie he explored the ruinous apartments on the other side of
+the hall, selected the old disused drawing-room as the future
+school-room, and saying that he would send carpenters and plasterers
+over in the morning, he withdrew.
+
+The next morning a carpenter, a plasterer, and a glazier came, and they
+came every day for a fortnight, and at the end of that time the boarded
+up, close, dark old drawing-room looked large, lightsome, and clean. In
+another week the school furniture arrived—a nice little mahogany desk
+for the teacher, and a dozen stained and varnished pine forms for the
+pupils.
+
+And now behold Sophie Churchill in her favorite sober brown silk dress,
+with her smoothly braided brown hair, seated at her desk presiding over
+her school, her large soft brown eyes floating serenely over the scene.
+Now no more ennui, now quickly fled the day, now pleasantly passed the
+week—the month. Is it a wonder that Sophie cherished in her heart a warm
+sentiment of gratitude towards the man who had wrought this favorable
+change in her life? The circle of her existence was vastly enlarged.
+Every Friday evening a horse and side-saddle would be sent by some one
+of her patrons to convey her to their house, where she was ever warmly
+welcomed, a loved and honored guest, to remain until Monday morning
+recalled her to her school duties. Once or twice during the week Emily
+May would accompany Gusty to school, and remain all day assisting Sophie
+at her labor. Nearly every evening now the pastor came, and gave her
+lessons in Greek and mathematics. Sophie felt so little “vocation” for
+these severe studies that nothing but the implacable will of her
+minister could have kept her to it. Worse than anything in her
+experience she dreaded his frown and his sure and stern rebuke when she
+had not accomplished her task—worse than anything except the steady
+searching gaze of his coldly brilliant green-grey eyes. _This_ froze the
+blood in her heart. And yet she felt grateful towards him; she blamed
+herself for her antipathy—her reason assured her that the _fault_ was
+not in _him_, but the _folly_ in _herself_. Her reason approved the
+pastor, the philosopher, the teacher—her instincts shrank from the man.
+With all this there was sometimes something strangely fascinating for
+her, even in his coldness, hardness, and harshness—a feeling, that if
+some element, she knew not what, were absent from his character, she
+might then meet his friendship—that something in utter discord with her
+own soul—that something that, speaking through his green-grey eyes,
+chilled and repelled her. Affairs were in this state when one Friday
+morning, early in June, Master Gusty May, on entering the school-room,
+marched up to the teacher’s desk with an air of importance, and handed
+her a note. It was from Mrs. May, and ran thus:—
+
+
+  “Dearest Sophie, do return with Gusty this evening. I have sent a
+  pillion, and you can ride behind him. There are to be grand doings at
+  Grove Cottage this evening. Kitty is beating eggs; and I am stoning
+  raisins—all this in honor of the expected arrival of Lieutenant
+  Augustus H. Wilde, United States Navy. My dear brother Gusty, his ship
+  has arrived at the Navy Yard at Norfolk—he has received his promotion,
+  and writes that he will be with me this evening. Wear your _new_ brown
+  silk dress, Sophie, for I want you to make a conquest of Master Gusty,
+  Senior, so that we can keep him here while he is on shore. And I want
+  _him_ to cut the minister out, _too_, although the whole country says
+  it will be such a ‘marvellous proper’ match—that is, between you and
+  the minister. Come.
+
+                                                                 EMILY.”
+
+
+There was another horse and side-saddle brought by another pupil to
+carry Sophie home with him that evening, but when school was dismissed,
+Master Gusty (junior, as we must call him now) marched up to the bringer
+of the rival nag, and told the “fellow” that Miss Churchill was going
+home with _him_, and that he had better carry his “beast” back again.
+
+During their ride to the Grove, Gusty informed Miss Churchill that he
+was named after his uncle, Augustus Wilde, that the latter was just made
+a lieutenant, and that he was going to try to procure a midshipman’s
+warrant for _him_ when he was a little bigger. They arrived at the Grove
+at sunset. Lieutenant Wilde was already there, and came out gallantly to
+lift Sophie from her horse—she had never seen him before, and as he came
+from the cottage door down the long grape-vine covered walk to the gate
+where her horse stood, she thought he was strikingly like his sister,
+the same silky black hair, the same dark grey eyes—he approached,
+addressed her freely and cheerfully as his sister’s familiar friend, and
+in lifting her off the pillion their eyes met—their _eyes_ met, their
+_souls_ met. The soul more or less plainly speaks through the eyes, and
+I believe that ever the truest, purest, strongest, and most lasting love
+begins with the first meeting of the eyes, in a sort of mutual
+recognition. Involuntarily his voice softened to its lowest, sweetest
+tones in addressing her, and tenderly, most tenderly he arranged her
+riding habit as he stood her on the ground, and then drawing her arm
+through his own, he gently led her up the grape walk to the house. Emily
+received her at the door with a hearty kiss, and telling her that she
+looked unusually charming, led her into the house. The pastor was
+within, of course. Emily’s parlor glittered with its clean, sober,
+drab-colored glory. The evening passed delightfully, between Emily’s
+music, Sophie’s songs, and the young lieutenant’s sea-stories,
+anecdotes, and adventures. The pastor alone was silent and moody. Never
+had Sophie Churchill passed so delightful an evening. With strangers
+generally, Sophie was as shy as the wild fawn of her native woods, and
+her large eyes would startle and dilate if she was addressed by any one,
+yet now those wild shy eyes were ever roving after another pair. As yet
+she was utterly unconscious of this truantism. At last they met that
+other pair, and she—_blushed, and looked down? No!_ That belongs to a
+more sophisticated, a more conventional being than our wild fawn of the
+Heath. No—a glad, innocent, unconscious smile broke over her face. There
+was one present who watched her with a dark and lowering brow. Happily
+Sophie did not perceive the evil eye glowering under it. The evening
+closed. She retired to rest with an elevated and happy heart. She and
+Emily slept together in the same old room—the minister occupied his own
+chamber alone, for Emily did not like to thrust her brother in upon him.
+So after everybody was gone to rest, Emily prepared a sofa bed in the
+parlor for her brother.
+
+“Emily! Emily! she is charming, charming!” said the young man, as his
+sister stooped to receive his good night kiss.
+
+“That she is, Gusty! Charming! and I am glad you find her so.
+Good-night.”
+
+“He loves you, darling—he loves you _dearly_, _sweet_ darling,” said
+Emily, hugging her friend to her bosom, “and I am so glad.”
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VII.
+                              YOUNG LOVE.
+
+                                 “So gaze met gaze,
+           And heart saw heart, translucid through the rays,
+           One same, harmonious, universal law,
+           Atom to atom, star to star can draw,
+           And heart to heart! Swift darts, as from the sun,
+           The strong attraction, and the charm is done.”
+                                           THE NEW TIMON.
+
+
+It was such a beautiful morning, such a holiday seeming morning—the
+green foliage all sparkling with dew in the rays of the early sun, the
+air vocal, noisy with all sorts of merry sounds, cheerful household
+sounds, gay woodland music, the crowing of roosters, the cackling of
+hens, and above all, the merry, merry, merry bursts of melody from the
+birds. Augustus Wilde and Sophie Churchill sat in the vine-clad porch of
+Grove Cottage. (Emily was in the dining-room washing up her breakfast
+things, and the minister was writing his sermon in his room.)
+
+“Do you know, Miss Churchill, that I am perpetually in danger of
+offending against the rules of etiquette, and calling you Sophie, as my
+sister calls you. Whenever I turn to address you, ‘Sophie’ springs to my
+lips. I warn you of it that you may not be offended when it comes—why,
+‘Sophie’—it just suits you—such a little shy fawn as you are—in every
+soft wave of your brown hair, in every floating beam of your tender
+eyes, in every fold of your sober dress ‘Sophie’ is revealed. I must
+call you Sophie.”
+
+They were sitting on the bench with their backs against the open window
+of Emily’s bedroom (the little chamber on the left front, that I have
+described). He now felt his ears grasped from behind and his head well
+shaken. Sophie raised her eyes and saw the white dress, black curls, and
+merry face of his sister stooping from the window over him.
+
+“Sophie, is it? Impudence! Well, Sophie, let him call you what he
+will—but don’t you call him Augustus—there is nothing august about him,
+call him ‘Gusty,’ or ‘Gusty Wilde,’ for look you!” said she, pulling
+back his head, and kissing his brow, “there is so much latent strength
+and fire in this young man’s veins that it is extremely apt to break out
+in storms—just watch him in controversy with Mr. Withers—the sudden
+anger will dart from his eyes like a spring lancet from its sheath!” She
+shook him again, and let him go.
+
+“Oh! the atrocious medical simile!—like ‘lightning from a mountain
+cloud,’ you meant.”
+
+“Like a pea from a pop-gun, more likely. Now, Miss Churchill, he said
+your air and manner _revealed_ ‘Sophie’—very well—every glance, and
+start, and spring, every interjection and exclamation in his looks,
+gestures, and conversation _exposes_ ‘Gusty Wilde.’”
+
+“_Now_, Miss Churchill, do you believe that?” inquired he, with mock
+seriousness.
+
+“No, I am sure—” began Sophie.
+
+“You are sure of nothing—he is on his good behavior now; wait and see.
+But that is not what I broke in upon you for, Mr. Wilde—I have come to
+invite you and Miss Churchill to ride with me this morning. We will
+borrow the parson’s gig, and come, I will be good. You shall drive
+Sophie, and I will ride FireFly, my pony. Come, run, Sophie, smoothe
+your hair, it is a little blown about by the breeze, and put on your
+bonnet. And _you_, Master Lieutenant, be so kind as to don your undress
+uniform at least—what is the good of having a brother in the Navy, if he
+dress like an undertaker at a funeral? Come! I want to show you off; I
+want to get half the girls in the neighborhood in love with you. Dear
+me! Am I not rich just now? Two beaux—the best of beaux for a country
+neighborhood—a preacher and an officer. Mercy! I shouldn’t wonder if my
+house became the resort of all the merry maidens and manœuvring mammas
+in —— county.”
+
+They made many calls that day before returning to a late dinner. The
+last house they called at was Mrs. Gardiner Green’s, where they were
+received and entertained by that lady and her pretty daughter Rose.
+
+The next day was Sunday, and they all went to church. Lieutenant Wilde
+sat between his sister and Miss Churchill in the front pew; there was an
+expression of serious joy upon the faces of the youth and maiden never
+seen there before—the minister, perhaps, never was less happy in his
+written sermon or its delivery, than upon this occasion. He had brought
+Sophie to church in his gig; at the close of the service he took her
+home to the Grove.
+
+The afternoon and evening passed pleasantly. Early the next morning
+Sophie returned to Heath Hall, to recommence her school duties. That day
+passed as usual; in the evening after tea, Sophie sat by the open
+window; it was a beautiful starlight night, and she delayed ordering
+lights, preferring to enjoy the cool night air, and listen to the
+pleasant night sounds by the open window. Presently a tall dark figure
+passed before the window, and in another moment the minister had entered
+and was by her side.
+
+“Good evening, Miss Churchill.”
+
+“Good evening, Mr. Withers.”
+
+He took a seat by her side, and sat with his head bowed upon his hands
+that rested upon the top of a stick held between his knees; he was
+silent a long time; at last Sophie arose to order lights.
+
+“Where are you going, Miss Churchill?”
+
+“To have candles brought.”
+
+“Sit still, Miss Churchill.”
+
+Sophie resumed her seat.
+
+“You have had a very pleasant visit to the Grove, Miss Churchill?”
+
+“Very, sir.”
+
+“Humph! you were very much pleased with Mr. Wilde?”
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+“Ah! that is very candid. But do you think, Miss Churchill, that I can
+altogether approve of the marked preference shown by a young lady in
+your circumstances for a young gentleman?”
+
+Sophie looked bewildered, dismayed. The poor girl, naturally timid, had
+been made quite cowardly by the misconceptions, misconstructions, and
+misrepresentations of others; she grew pale, and replied with a
+faltering voice—
+
+“I—I did not know—I knew—I know that my profession would seem to require
+more steadiness, gravity, and circumspection than I possess—but I was
+unconscious of any—”
+
+Her voice faltered, broke down, and she stopped short, and burst into
+tears. He answered sternly—
+
+“You know very well, Miss Churchill, that it is not your ‘profession’ I
+speak of. What can _that_ be thought to have to do with your
+preferences? No, Miss Churchill, you know very well that I allude to the
+relations subsisting between us.”
+
+“The relations subsisting between us?” faltered Sophie.
+
+“You certainly cannot successfully affect ignorance of a fact with which
+the whole county is acquainted, though it may _now_ seem convenient for
+you to attempt it.” He paused. “Well, Miss Churchill?”
+
+“I do not understand you at all, sir.”
+
+“Then all the county understands and have understood for two months
+past, that we are to be married soon, Miss Churchill.”
+
+“Oh, my God, no! You never dreamed—_I_ never dreamed of that! Oh, no! I
+had rather _die_! Oh! God knows I had!” exclaimed Sophie, wildly,
+clasping her hands and rising.
+
+He caught her hand, and pressed her trembling into her seat again.
+
+“Your aversion to me is certainly flattering—_very_ flattering, Miss
+Churchill—but it is rather late _now_ to express it. You have received
+my visits nightly for three months past—and now, to-night, for the first
+time, you express a strong and utter aversion to me.”
+
+“Oh, because _I couldn’t help it_! How could I help your coming here—how
+can I help this aversion I feel—pardon me if I have expressed it
+strongly. I have a high respect for you, and I ought to feel honored by
+your preference—any woman in the parish would. You are too good—too wise
+for me, believe me you are! I am a child—a fool! Oh! don’t think of it!
+_pray_ don’t think of it! Consider how many ladies—ladies of family and
+fortune—would be proud to wed the minister; who would throw himself away
+upon a poor, lone girl, without connexions, and without influence!”
+
+Sophie had risen in her earnestness, and stood before him with her
+clasped hands.
+
+He closed his eyes and smiled; he stretched forth his hand, and taking
+hers, drew her again to her seat, and passed his arm around her waist
+and whispered—
+
+“My little Sophie, my little fawn, you shall be Mrs. Withers in three
+weeks, just as sure as you live!”
+
+She shrank from the clasp of his arm, as though it had been the clammy
+coil of a serpent.
+
+“I will not! cannot! durst not! Mr. Withers, why don’t you marry Rose
+Green? She would have you; or Mrs. Somerville, or Mrs. Slye, or Mrs.
+Joshua Eversham, or Miss Polly Mortimer—any of them would have, would be
+proud to marry the minister of the parish.”
+
+“I know that, Miss Churchill!”
+
+“And any of these ladies would make you a good wife.”
+
+“I do not doubt it, Miss Churchill.”
+
+“Then why don’t you marry one of them?”
+
+“Because they are each ready to fall into my arms.”
+
+Sophie was wounded and became silent—she attempted to withdraw herself
+from the embrace of his arm, but every attempt was punished by a tighter
+fold.
+
+“Miss Churchill, do you know that there is an instinct in human
+nature—to speak more correctly, in _man’s_ nature, or in speaking _most_
+correctly, perhaps I should say in _my own_ nature—to pursue that which
+_flies_? Why, Sophie, when I was a lad, I always preferred to play with
+kittens that were scarey and spiteful, that would kick, scratch, and
+bite, that would resist to the death rather than with one that would
+cosily and quietly nestle down in my lap—the latter I should have shaken
+off.”
+
+“But how,” said Sophie, “if the poor kitten neither resisted nor
+caressed you—shrank and shivered and died in your hands?”
+
+“I should not give the weak thing a chance, Sophie; when the shrinking
+and shivering commenced, I should throw it heavily upon the ground, and
+thereby kill it.”
+
+Sophie shuddered.
+
+Both were silent for some time; then he spoke—
+
+“What day, Miss Churchill, between this and the first of next month will
+it please you to bestow upon me the honor of your hand?”
+
+“No day! no day! Don’t look at me so, Mr. Withers, pray don’t; it makes
+me ill—_pray don’t_—I am a mere girl, a mere child; it frightens me,
+this idea of marrying you—indeed, believe me, it does!”
+
+“Come! Miss Churchill, come! This will not do—this fickleness and
+unfaithfulness on your part will not answer; I cannot permit it. I
+thought the footing we stood upon in relation to each other well
+understood; you certainly could _not_ have misinterpreted the meaning of
+my visits here; no one else has misconceived them. Mrs. Gardiner Green
+inquired of me to-day when our marriage was to come off. I told her that
+it would take place some time this month, that I would apprise her of
+the exact day to-morrow. It is for the purpose of ascertaining your day
+that I have called this evening. Come, Sophie, satisfy me upon this
+point.”
+
+“I cannot! I cannot! God _knows_ I cannot! Oh! _Why_ do you persist in
+this? Why! why love a girl who is in no respect, of age, mind,
+education, or wealth, your equal?”
+
+“Fiddlestick! have I said I loved you? No, Sophie, thank God I have
+never yet been, never, I trust, shall be, under the influence of that
+most weak and puerile passion.”
+
+“Then, in the name of reason and of mercy, why seek to marry a girl whom
+you do not love, and who hates—no, does not _hate_, but who fears and
+recoils from you?”
+
+“Precisely because she _does_ fear and recoil from me!”
+
+“I will not marry you, then! I will not marry you then! please God to
+give me strength. Surely I am a free girl; no one has a right, or will
+attempt, or could succeed in forcing my inclinations. Come, I will be
+firm, and nothing can compel me!”
+
+“But destiny. You are in a net of circumstances from whence there is no
+escape, Sophie Churchill. Do not struggle, you will lacerate your limbs
+and waste your strength only to entangle yourself the more.”
+
+Again silence ensued. Sophie continued from time to time to try to
+extricate herself from his grasp, each attempt but serving to rivet his
+arm about her waist—at last he said—
+
+“The embrace of my arm is an emblem of the surrounding of your fate; you
+can as easily escape the one as the other.”
+
+Sophie burst into tears, and wept long and freely. He did not attempt to
+soothe or even to speak to her. At last her fit of grief and terror
+exhausted itself, and she became calm. Then she said—
+
+“Oh, I might have guessed all this sorrow from the first time I ever met
+your eye!”
+
+“Flattering again!”
+
+The clock struck. Sophie struggled.
+
+“Mr. Withers, it is ten o’clock.”
+
+“Well, Miss Churchill, I only wait my answer to return home.”
+
+“I have given you the only one I can give—take it again. I cannot give
+myself to you.”
+
+“Then I can take you, that’s all, Sophie. Mrs. Gardiner Green will call
+upon you to-morrow,” and so saying, he arose and took his leave.
+
+When left alone Sophie paced uneasily up and down the floor, saying, as
+she clasped her temples—
+
+“Am I mad or going mad? am I dreaming? Under a spell? Oh, _what_ is
+this? What is this closing around me like irresistible destiny? Why
+cannot I awake, arouse from this? I know I’m free; _why_ can’t I use my
+freedom? What a spell, what a mystery, what a horror! Oh! my Heavenly
+Father! If I could awake! I lose my free will! Oh, fate! fate! fate! thy
+hand is on me, and there is no resisting it!”
+
+Thus the pinions of her weak will fluttered in the iron grasp of a
+strong and implacable one.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER VIII.
+                         THE PHANTOM’S WARNING.
+
+             “Let me gaze for a moment that e’er I die
+             I may read thee, lady, a prophecy,
+             That brow may beam in glory awhile,
+             That cheek may bloom and that lip may smile,
+             But clouds shall darken that brow of snow,
+             And sorrow blight that bosom’s glow.”
+                                         MISS L. DAVIDSON.
+
+
+Scarcely was the school dismissed the next evening, before the carriage
+of Mrs. Gardiner Green drew up before the door. The liveried footman of
+Mrs. Gardiner Green descended from behind and opened the door and let
+down the steps, and Mrs. Gardiner Green hereby alighted and entered the
+hall. Sophie received the pompous lady at the door; Mrs. Gardiner Green
+took the poor girl in her arms and kissed her, then _conducted_ rather
+than followed her into the parlor. They sat down. After a little
+preliminary conversation the lady began:
+
+“My dearest Miss Churchill, I have come at the suggestion of our mutual
+friend and reverend pastor, Mr. Withers, to offer you any aid or advice
+that the present crisis of your circumstances may demand. Now no
+blushing, my dear Miss Churchill; look upon me as a mother—as a sister,”
+said the lady, quickly correcting herself. “In short, Miss Churchill, I
+have come to propose that you be married from our house.”
+
+Now this was said so coolly, taking the premises so much as a matter of
+course, that Sophie, poor cowardly Sophie, had nothing at first to say.
+
+The lady went on with her proposals, entering into all the details of
+wedding dresses, bridesmaids, brides-cake, and a vast deal of matronly
+information and advice. At last Sophie could bear it no longer; she
+arose nervously from her seat and turned to the window, every limb
+trembling, and her voice faltering as she said—
+
+“I am not going to be married to Mr. Withers, Mrs. Green—I am very sorry
+everybody seems to think so—it is not true—will you do me the favor to
+contradict it wherever you may hear it?” And now she turned towards her.
+Mrs. Gardiner Green looked perfectly aghast; she evidently knew her
+part.
+
+“Then, Miss Churchill, as your mother’s oldest friend, may I ask,—_what_
+is the meaning of the minister’s nightly visits to you?—for know, Miss
+Churchill, that unless they portend marriage, not even his sacred cloth
+will _prevent_, but rather _augment_ the scandal that will ensue. Miss
+Churchill, I would not for the world that any thoughtless or malicious
+person should hear you say what you have just said; but, Miss Churchill,
+again I ask you—why have you permitted his nightly visits for three
+months past?”
+
+“I could not help it—_how_ could I help it?—should I have thought of
+telling our minister to keep away? I thought whatever our minister said
+or did was right, and could not be misconstrued, or I am afraid, I am
+_sure_, that until now, I never thought about it.”
+
+“No, Sophie, that is it—_you never thought about it_—your
+thoughtlessness in permitting the visits of gentlemen in your
+unprotected condition had already nearly mined you, when the kindness
+and candor of Mr. Withers rescued you from the neglect and obscurity
+into which you had fallen; and now his very kindness will through your
+thoughtlessness be converted into a greater misfortune to you and
+himself, that is, if you do not marry him; but of course you will do so,
+Sophie.”
+
+Sophie Churchill was sitting before her; the palms of her hands pressed
+together; her eyes raised imploringly to the countenance of the lady.
+
+Sophie was utterly unconscious of this attitude of supplication. It was
+the involuntary appeal of a weak will to a stronger one.
+
+“Oh! I never can—I _never can_ marry that man—death—_death_ would be
+better.”
+
+“Yet, Miss Churchill, you have seemed to speak sometimes as if you took
+pleasure in his society.”
+
+“When he reads or converses I like to hear, or _have_ liked—I shall
+never like it again; but if his eye runs from his book and fixes on my
+face—I—oh!—I can’t tell you, but at the very idea of marrying him I grow
+deadly sick and faint.”
+
+Mrs. Gardiner Green, with her obtuse sensibilities, did not understand
+this, but she answered coldly—
+
+“There is no one to compel you to do justice to Mr. Withers, Miss
+Churchill—no one to force your inclinations in any way; still, as your
+mother’s friend, I must advise you to bring no reproach upon her memory
+by your lightness of conduct; as your brother’s friend I must entreat
+you not to injure the prospects of his young daughter by your
+selfishness; and as the friend of Mr. Withers, I must conjure you not to
+destroy his usefulness by your fickleness and unfaithfulness.”
+
+She continued to talk, using all the arguments of a hard woman of the
+world, with a nervous, sensitive, and somewhat visionary girl, and at
+the end of two hours more, left Sophie very well prepared to receive, or
+_rather_, very incapable of resisting her destiny and her master. It was
+near sunset when the lady’s carriage rolled away from the door. When she
+was gone Sophie sank down on the steps of the piazza, and resting her
+elbows on her knees, dropped her face into the palms of her hands, and
+gave herself up to despair. She sat there until the sun went down—she
+sat until the stars came out—she sat there until she felt a light hand
+fall upon the top of her head. She looked up, and the phantom of the
+forest dell stood before her, the same wan, spectral face—the same
+large, intense, blue eyes, blazing in their hollow sockets, surrounded
+by their livid, bluish circle—the same streaming yellow hair, with its
+streaks of grey—the same emaciated claw-like fingers. Her intense gaze
+sought and met Sophie’s eyes, and she knew that her visitor was a
+denizen of earth. She remained gazing into Sophie’s eyes a minute, and
+then she broke forth with terrible energy:—
+
+“_Do not marry him!_—risk—suffer _anything_ but that! _Do not marry
+him!_ Be true to your instincts—they warned you at your first meeting,
+they warn you _now_! Be true to your instincts! They were given you of
+God for your protection; it is a sin—it is a _sin_ to disregard them,
+and the punishment—the punishment will be more than you can bear!—a
+broken heart!—a maddened brain!—at least—_at least_ a blighted life!
+Look at me!”
+
+She tore the mantle from her breast and displayed a skeleton form, to
+which the tight skin clung.
+
+“Who are you, in the name of Heaven?”
+
+“I _am_ a shadow—a memory—a _warning_! I _was_ his wife!”
+
+“Great God!”
+
+Sophie raised her eyes just in time to see the tall figure of the
+minister near the shadowy woman, and his strong hand fell upon her
+shoulder. He had approached unperceived. She shrieked—sprang from under
+his grasp, and fled towards the river. He looked after her in dismay,
+apparently with an impulse of pursuit. When she had disappeared over the
+cliff, and down the bank, he turned to Sophie.
+
+“Who is that woman, Sophie?”
+
+“YOUR WIFE!” said the girl, raising her eyes bravely now to meet his
+gaze.
+
+“You were always a little brainsick, Miss Churchill, but really this—or
+perhaps you are only jesting.”
+
+“Do I look like jesting? Is yonder unfortunate a subject for jest?”
+
+“Then you are clearly insane—moon-struck as your lunatic visitor. Pray
+can you tell me what put such an extravagant idea into your head?”
+
+“Her own word.”
+
+“Her own word—the mad fancy of a maniac!”
+
+“At least, Mr. Withers, you will not think of pressing your suit, or
+even renewing a single visit, after such a revelation.”
+
+“Will I not? I have two urgent duties to perform now—one is to seek that
+lunatic, and have her taken care of; the other to hasten our marriage,
+Sophie, that everything seems to endanger, from naval officers to
+strolling maniacs.”
+
+“She is your wife!—I know she is! Every glance into your face deepens
+the conviction I feel.”
+
+“Do you not know that I lost my wife while living in the North?”
+
+“You lost her, but how?—by _death_? Possessions and persons are lost
+sometimes, and _found_ again. Nothing but the grave is inexorable. Come,
+has the grave inclosed your wife?”
+
+“Insulting! insolent! Take care, Sophie, you are heaping up wrath
+against a day of wrath.”
+
+“_You are!_ Were this incident known in the neighborhood—”
+
+“You would be laughed to scorn for your credulity. _Nonsense_, Sophie!
+Were the letters I brought here of so little weight?—was the
+approbation, the warm friendship of the venerable and sainted May, of
+such little worth, that the fancies of a moon-struck woman should be
+able to injure me, or should change my views and purposes towards you?
+Come, Sophie, it is best that you understand me. _I have no wife._ I
+assure you, upon my honor—my untarnished truth, Sophie, that I have no
+wife, and I _must_ have you! Your hand is the _one_ thing that I wish on
+earth, and I _must, must_ have it—_will_ have it.”
+
+Sophie was weeping bitterly. He stooped down, took her chin in his hand,
+and raised her tearful face, then sat beside her, and said, more gently
+than he had yet spoken—
+
+“Come, Sophie Churchill, I am no hypocrite, no villain, and God knows
+it. I have been the most unfortunate and the most injured man, perhaps,
+that ever lived; and some day, when you are prepared for it, you shall
+know it. As for the woman, poor creature, she must be cared for; and
+now, lest you should perchance cherish in your heart another suspicion,
+which yet you would never breathe, I will volunteer to say that I have
+never wronged that woman—never, so help me Heaven! Dismiss her from your
+mind, Sophie, and tell me, has Mrs. Gardiner Green been to see you?”
+
+“Yes, sir,” murmured Sophie.
+
+“And between you, you settled the day for our marriage.”
+
+“Yes, sir, but—”
+
+“Never mind _but_—what day did you fix?”
+
+“Mr. Withers, that is all over now—Mrs. Green, herself, if she knew—”
+
+“Never mind, my dear; what day _had_ you fixed?
+
+“Then we _had_ fixed the fifteenth.”
+
+“Thank you, Sophie!” and he sealed his thanks upon her lips, arose, and
+bidding her good night, left the spot.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER IX.
+                         THE WANDERER’S DEATH.
+
+                   “Oh, ask me not to speak her fate,
+                     Oh, tempt me not to tell
+                   The sin that made her desolate,—
+                     Passion she could not quell
+                   Alas! the grave can only be
+                   Fit refuge of her misery.”
+                                           ANONYMOUS.
+
+
+“Sophie, your cheeks are pale, and a livid blue circle surrounds your
+eyes; you do not look like yourself—you are ill; do not keep school
+to-day—give a holiday and rest.” These were the words addressed by Mrs.
+May to her friend on the day succeeding the events related in the last
+chapter. She had ridden over, attended by Augustus Wilde, to spend the
+day with Sophie and help her to teach. They were standing in the
+school-room just before calling the pupils.
+
+“Yes, Miss Churchill, _do_ give a holiday to-day for my sake, as well as
+for your own,” said Lieutenant Augustus, setting his cap and riding-whip
+down upon the desk. “On Thursday my week’s leave of absence expires.
+This is the last day I shall have an opportunity of spending with you,
+and you look weary from confinement and work; everything points to a
+holiday—come!”
+
+Sophie smiled a sickly smile, and said she was very well.
+
+“But I do not think so, and I never believe a _smile_ unless the _eyes_
+smile, too,” said Emily; “now _I_ am going to give a holiday;” and so
+saying, she went into the yard, called the children together by a bell,
+and told them to go home, for there was to be no school that day. Sophie
+Churchill was ever too yielding, and now, in the languor of dejection,
+she made no opposition.
+
+“Now, Sophie, we will go a fishing,” said Mrs. May, as she returned
+after dismissing the children, “the fresh air off the bay will revive
+you.”
+
+“And I, Miss Churchill, feel very anxious for a forenoon’s frolic on the
+waters, if that is any argument,” said Lieutenant Gusty, and he sought
+Sophie’s eyes; but _they_ were bent upon the ground, or, when raised,
+their intelligence, their light, their sympathy for _him_ was gone. He
+_felt_ this, and his heart sank. Had he offended her? and how? He wished
+to speak to her, or to his sister apart, and ask the reason, but he
+could not speak to either upon the subject, in the presence of the
+other. It is a feature in human sympathy, that one may be in company
+with two equally loved and trusted friends, to _either_ of whom _apart_,
+one would confide the secret that oppresses—for there is a feeling of
+security, exclusiveness, sacredness, between _two_ friends conversing,
+that is lost when a _third_, however equally dear to both, enters in—the
+electric cord of full sympathy and confidence has but _two_ ends. The
+Jesuits understand this, for by a statute of their order it is forbidden
+that less than _three_ members go apart, or converse together. Now,
+Augustus Wilde felt this without reasoning upon it.
+
+Miss Churchill put on her bonnet, and they were soon down upon the beach
+under the promontory; the gravelly beach was clean and cool, and the
+waters blue and clear, and sparkling in the beams of the early sun, and
+all the golden clouds were reflected on their bosom. The little skiff
+was soon unmoored and they were out upon the bay; as they receded from
+the shore, Lieutenant Wilde stood up and turned to look upon the
+promontory, or rather peak, surmounted by the old hall; his eye rested a
+moment upon the towering object, and then wandered down to where the
+promontory descended into the heath, and further on, where the heath
+flattened into the moor. He had just said, while gazing on the scene, “I
+am no agriculturist, Miss Churchill, yet I never saw what _I_ think to
+be so fine an estate in all the gifts of nature as this—the moor with
+its wild fowl, the river and the bay with their fish and their
+oyster-banks, the forest in the background with its wood and its game—it
+is inconceivable how the property has been suffered to—” and then he
+stopped, started, and gazed at an object on the water between them and
+the land—
+
+“What is the matter, Augustus?” said Emily, attempting to rise. He
+pushed her down into her seat again, while he continued to gaze upon the
+floating object as it was borne upon the waves towards the beach.
+
+“What is the matter, Augustus? What are you looking at; one would think
+you saw a shark.” And now Sophie’s brown eyes were raised in silent
+inquiry.
+
+Augustus sat down, muttering “Nothing, nothing,” and pulled for a
+distant part of the shore, about midway the heath, between the
+promontory and the moor.
+
+“Are you going to land?” asked Emily.
+
+“Be quiet, will you,” muttered he, pinching her arm and glancing at
+Sophie, who had relapsed into her abstraction.
+
+Not until they had nearly reached the beach, had Sophie noticed their
+altered course; then she looked up and inquired, “Where are you going?
+Why this is not a good place to fish.”
+
+Lieutenant Wilde answered, “We think we have made it too late in the
+morning—that the sun is too high and too hot for you, Miss Churchill;
+and we think we will return to the hall.”
+
+Sophie remonstrated, declared she felt no ill effects from the heat,
+&c.; but was overruled as usual. Emily now asserting that she felt the
+rays of the sun too strong, they landed and walked to the hall. When
+they reached the parlor, Emily _purposely_ removed her bonnet and scarf
+_there_, and Sophie taking them, carried them up stairs to put away.
+When she had left the room,
+
+“_Now_, I followed your lead in coming home—tell me _why_ you came; what
+was the matter with you—what did you see on the water?”
+
+“You told me that Miss Churchill was very nervous and sensitive, did you
+not?”
+
+“I told you, that of late she is—naturally Sophie has a strong mind.”
+
+“Well, Emily, the object I saw upon the water was a dead body.”
+
+“Merciful Heaven! are you _sure_?”
+
+“_Certain._ I saw it distinctly—it was being wafted towards the beach.”
+
+“Heavenly Father! some poor negro, out fishing, drunk perhaps, fell
+overboard.”
+
+“No; a woman scantily clothed, with streaming yellow hair clinging wet
+around her swollen limbs. I am sure the body is by this time cast upon
+the beach.”
+
+“A woman with streaming yellow hair,” said Emily, as the memory of
+Sophie’s vision in the dell crossed her mind. “Can we, Augustus, get
+away from Sophie in any way, and go down to the beach?”
+
+“We must make an excuse of some sort,” said Augustus.
+
+His purpose was forestalled—for at that moment the handsome blue
+carriage and grey horses of Mrs. Gardiner Green stopped before the door;
+and the lofty lady alighted and entered the house. “How do you do, Mrs.
+May—and Lieutenant Wilde—well, this is delightful. I am so happy to see
+you. I must positively have you at the Glade to-morrow evening, to meet
+a few friends—quite an _improvised_ little affair; but where is Miss
+Churchill? I am enacting ‘mamma’ to that young lady just at the present
+crisis; and this morning I wish a private interview with her.”
+
+Emily seized this chance—and calling to little Hagar, sent her for Miss
+Churchill. When Sophie entered the room, she arose, and leaving Mrs.
+Green to explain her departure, took her brother’s arm, and saying that
+she would return in half an hour, threw her handkerchief over her head
+and strolled out into the yard; then quickening their steps, they
+hastened towards the peak. Descending the cliff by a circuitous path,
+they reached the beach; and there, immediately under the point of the
+promontory, they decried an object that, upon nearer approach, they
+found to be the dead body of a woman. Emily May, pale with awe, knelt
+down to examine the body—her brother stood in silence by her side. From
+its extreme emaciation, the body, unlike those of most drowned persons,
+was not much swollen, but lay slender and extended at length—the arms
+confined to the waist, and the slight limbs bound together by the
+winding and clinging of the long yellow hair, that in beating about the
+waters had got twisted around her. With trembling fingers Emily removed
+the tress of hair that, wet and sticking to her face, partly concealed
+the features. She gazed earnestly and sadly upon the extinguished lamp
+of that dead countenance—the blue-white complexion, the thin sharpened
+features, the round forehead polished and shining, from very emaciation,
+the ultra-marine blue eyes, stony and swollen—the small elegant nose,
+with its delicate and half-transparent nostril—the short and beautifully
+curved upper lip, drawn up now blue and stiff, and exposing the little
+pearly teeth—and lastly, the long fine golden hair with its few
+commingling threads of silver—the extremely small and slender hands,
+thin now as birds’ claws—the little naked foot, with its curved hollow
+and proud high instep.
+
+“Who _can_ she be?” asked Augustus; “do you know, Emily?”
+
+His sister shook her head; she was thinking of the vision seen by Sophie
+in the forest dell, but she deemed it best to be silent upon that
+subject at present. There was a small house under the shadow of the
+promontory, in which sails, fishing-nets, and rods, &c., were kept; into
+this house, for the present, Lieutenant Wilde conveyed the body, and
+locking the door, took possession of the key, and advising Emily to
+return to the hall, he went off to Churchill Point to summon the
+coroner.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+“Ridiculous, my dear! absurd, preposterous! _utterly_ preposterous! A
+crazy woman wandering through the country, and saying that she is our
+minister’s wife! and you to believe it! I shall grow thoroughly ashamed
+of you, Miss Churchill. Why, don’t you know, my dear, that is always the
+way with these lunatic vagrants, to fancy themselves some great
+personage, _always_; all I wonder at, is that your maniac was so
+moderate—they are generally queens, nothing less will serve them; even
+old Suke Ennis, you know, is the President’s wife—and carries her bosom
+full of waste papers that she says are his letters. A strolling lunatic
+suddenly appears before you, in the full of the moon, announces herself
+as the wife of the most important man she knows of, flees away at his
+approach,—and _you_, upon the strength of her moon-struck madness,
+believe, or more probably _affect_ to believe her insane statement; you
+grow ridiculous. Oh! do not, for _your own_ reputation for good sense,
+mention this to any one else. I am _mortified_ at you, _alarmed_ for
+you.”
+
+This was the manner in which Mrs. Gardiner Green received the news of
+Sophie’s strange visitor from Miss Churchill’s lips, when they had been
+left alone together.
+
+“I do not think that she was a lunatic,” said Sophie, seriously. “I
+thought she spoke sense, truth, sad, sorrowful truth.”
+
+“‘Sense,’ ‘truth,’ the maddest of them can speak sense and truth
+sometimes; but her very _statement_ proves her lunacy—do not we all know
+better—don’t we know that the wife of Mr. Withers died two years ago?”
+
+“I think that is an impression that has been generally received, but I
+think that the opinion has no good foundation in fact; now that my mind
+fixes itself upon the subject, I remember that in his letter to Mr. May,
+he speaks of the ‘loss,’ never of the _death_ of his wife.”
+
+“Oh! I have no _patience_ with you! ‘Loss,’ what could it have been but
+_death_! Think of Mr. May’s warm regard—but I will _not_ argue with you
+upon this most injurious suspicion—it is an insult to Mr. Withers to
+hear or reply to such—pshaw! No, Miss Churchill, you have seized this,
+as the drowning catch at straws, to save you from fulfilling an
+engagement, which only since the arrival of this gay young officer has
+grown distasteful to you. But I tell you plainly, Sophie—Miss Churchill,
+I should say—that if you break this engagement, as you will not, I
+think, venture to do—I shall be obliged, however unwillingly, to abandon
+you. I have a daughter,” here the proud lady drew herself up,” and I
+must consult _her_ interest before anything else. Rose Green loves you,
+Sophie Churchill, but if you wantonly trifle with your good name, I must
+sever you. Mrs. May, also, I think, could scarcely defy public opinion,
+by continuing her friendly intercourse with you.” Sophie Churchill was
+sitting with her face pale, her features rigid, her eyes fixed
+unconsciously upon her cold white fingers idly locked together on her
+lap; one or two large tears gathered in her set eyes, and slowly rolled
+down her cheeks. “Do not weep, Miss Churchill, if I talk to you plainly;
+it is to set things in a proper light before you; I speak to you as I
+would speak to Rose, under like circumstances. Your duty is very plain;
+the day of your marriage is fixed, go forward with the preparations for
+your wedding. I am here to lend you assistance, not to tolerate
+weakness, vacillation, and infidelity.”
+
+Sophie remonstrated now no more; unresistingly she suffered the
+circle of destiny to close around her. More than the force of
+circumstances—more than the _strength_ of others—more than our own
+_weakness_ does our _indolence_ leave us at the mercy of fate.
+Adverse external powers are at work upon us, surrounding us,
+contracting their circle upon us; we feel an inward reposing
+strength that, aroused, might struggle and overcome; but we are
+inert, we yield to their influence, they close upon us; we sigh, and
+call it _fate_. It was thus with Sophie Churchill. In vain the
+whisper of her true interests arose from the deeps of her soul,
+saying—“Speak! and break through this enchanted circle—_you_ are
+right, _she_ is wrong. Have faith in God, believe _yourself_, trust
+in the candor and friendship of Emily, in the intelligence,
+goodness, and _love_—yes, _love_ of Augustus; awake! arise! and save
+yourself.” Alas! the voice was heard in vain. It could not be
+_stilled_, but it was not obeyed. Still sat she there with cold
+clasped hands and rigid features, letting fate encompass her, but
+feeling in her profoundest soul the painful consciousness that _she
+herself_, and not another, was making her own misery.
+
+Emily May now entered, but Sophie was too much absorbed in her sorrow,
+Mrs. Green too much interested in the subject on hand, to notice the
+absence of Lieutenant Wilde, or the unusual seriousness of her
+countenance and manner. Emily silently took her seat, without mentioning
+the occurrence of the hour. With an instinctive fear of leaving Sophie
+alone with Emily then and there, Mrs. Gardiner Green dismissed her
+carriage and announced her intention of remaining the day, and of
+returning in the afternoon with Mrs. May. Emily observed the dejection
+of Sophie, but silently attributed it to ill health, weak nerves, &c.,
+and dwelt slightly upon the circumstance, her thoughts being engaged
+with the drowned woman then lying in the fish-house.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+That morning Mr. Withers had been requested, upon account of the sparse
+population, to form one of a coroner’s jury, to sit upon the case of a
+drowned _person_, at four o’clock in the afternoon, at Heath Hall. The
+hasty summons conveyed no further information. With a strange
+abstraction of mind he had not looked deeply into the subject of the
+note—and penning a hasty answer, he promised to be on the spot at the
+appointed hour.
+
+The dinner-table had been cleared away at Heath Hall. Mrs. Gardiner
+Green had sustained the chief burden of the conversation all day.
+Lieutenant Wilde had not returned; and to the inquiry of Mrs. Green
+relative to his absence (which, by the way, she rejoiced in), Emily had
+replied that sudden business had recalled him to the village, and there
+the subject dropped. She still refrained from mentioning the occurrence
+of the morning. Then Mrs. Gardiner Green, taking advantage of the
+momentary absence of Miss Churchill, informed Mrs. May that the marriage
+day of her dear young friend Sophie Churchill with Mr. Withers, was
+fixed for the fifteenth of the current month; that thus it would take
+place in little more than a week from that day—that the ceremony would
+be performed at her house, &c., &c. Emily received this information with
+pain and surprise, but was prevented replying by the re-entrance of
+Sophie. She was no longer at a loss to guess the reason of Miss
+Churchill’s ill looks; she turned her head away, for her heart was
+swelling and her eyes were filling with tears. They were engaged then,
+she thought. Well! well! she had hoped it would have been otherwise, but
+they were engaged—the marriage near at hand. As Emily looked from the
+window she started on observing a small cavalcade approaching the house,
+and muttering to herself—“Oh! how thoughtless, how careless of
+Augustus,” went out to meet it. It was the dead body of the drowned
+woman borne along on a litter. “Oh, _why_ have you done this, Augustus?”
+she asked of her brother, as the litter was set down in front of the
+piazza.
+
+“Why, I could not very well prevent it,” said he, pointing to the two or
+three old country magistrates in the train, “besides Miss Churchill
+cannot be shocked at what she is prepared to see—you have surely
+informed her?”
+
+“No, I have not; I should have done so, could I have guessed that they
+would have brought the body here.”
+
+“Why, dearest Emily, this was the nearest house, the coroner’s inquest
+was appointed to meet here, also.”
+
+Emily May requested them to pause with the body until she could go in
+and announce their arrival to the mistress of the mansion. She need not
+have feared for Sophie’s nerves _then_. When we are in deep trouble we
+are in excellent order to receive _bad_ news; it does not shock us,
+little can shock us when in sorrow, except joy. Let me illustrate, when
+we are already _cold_ we can bear a _cool_ draught. Sophie gave her
+consent almost indifferently for the corpse to be brought in, and the
+three ladies withdrew to the upper story. In another quarter of an hour
+it was laid out in the parlor. Emily had dropped no hint to Sophie of
+her suspicion of the identity of the drowned woman with the wanderer she
+had seen in the forest dell, and Miss Churchill was entirely without
+suspicion as to who it could be. Mrs. Gardiner Green was full of
+exclamations of wonder, grief, and horror. Four o’clock drew near, and
+the jury summoned by the coroner began to assemble; many other persons
+impelled by curiosity also came. When the room was nearly full, and the
+hour appointed for holding the inquest arrived, it entered the head of
+the coroner to request the attendance of the lady of the house as well
+as of Mrs. May, whose testimony, as one present at the finding of the
+body, was required. A message was sent upstairs, and Mrs. May and Miss
+Churchill, accompanied by Mrs. Gardiner Green, entered the room. The
+corpse was laid out upon boards in the centre of the room; it was
+covered by a black velvet pall—the body had not been uncovered since the
+assembling of the jury. The ladies entered and took their seats.
+
+“What are we waiting for now?” inquired a gentleman present.
+
+“For Mr. Withers, who is on the jury,” answered the coroner.
+
+At this moment Mr. Withers entered, and the inquest began. The coroner,
+going to the head of the bier, turned down the pall, and summoned Mr.
+Wilde to give in his evidence. At the first uncovering of the corpse,
+many had bent forward to obtain a glimpse of the face, Mr. Withers among
+the rest; he had been standing near Sophie, whom he had not omitted to
+greet, and now he leaned forward. By reason of his height, he obtained a
+good view, _for a single instant_, then covering his face with his open
+palms, he groaned forth in tones of bitter anguish—
+
+“God! Oh, God! _Fanny_,” and dropped like a lifeless mass into his
+chair. The intense curiosity of all present directed to the corpse
+prevented the agitation of the minister being observed. Lieutenant Wilde
+identified the corpse as the body found by himself in the morning. Emily
+was then summoned, and corroborated the statement of her brother. When
+she was about to leave the stand she was asked—
+
+“Did you ever see or hear of this woman before?”
+
+“I never saw her before this morning, when I saw her dead upon the
+beach.”
+
+“Did you ever hear of her before?”
+
+“Yes—no—yes!—_no_, I never—” said Emily, confused between fact and
+fancy. Her confused answer drew upon her a close cross-examination,
+during which she alluded to the vision seen in the dell by Miss
+Churchill. She was then dismissed, and Sophie Churchill called to the
+stand. Sophie had been sitting in a remote part of the room—she had not
+bent forward as others had to view the corpse—hence she had not seen it
+at all; to the examination of the witnesses she had paid slight
+attention. Not one word of Emily’s testimony had she heard, by reason of
+the low tone in which Emily spoke. She arose when called, approached the
+bier, and when told to look upon the body, and say whether she had ever
+seen it before, she languidly cast her eyes down upon it, and recognised
+the apparition of the dell—the moonlight visitor of the
+Hall—started—tottered—and with a smothered cry sank back in the arms of
+the coroner in a swoon. All the company looked dismayed. Augustus Wilde
+sprang forward to receive her, took her from the coroner’s hold, and
+telling him angrily that he had exceeded his authority, bore her into
+the air, and sitting down with her on the steps of the piazza, hastily
+loosened her dress and fanned her with his cap. Emily was by his side,
+she had followed them; Sophie opened her eyes, and then resigning her to
+Emily’s care he returned to the hall, meeting Mrs. Gardiner Green
+bustling out to look after her protegée.
+
+The verdict, “death by drowning,” was rendered, and the jury broke up.
+The coroner and magistrates had decided that the body should be buried
+from the Hall in the family burial ground, with the consent of Miss
+Churchill. The magistrates were taking their hats and preparing to
+depart, when the figure of Sophie Churchill, pale and haggard as though
+newly arisen from the grave, appeared among them.
+
+“I have testimony to give, and I _must_ give it,” she said.
+
+The magistrates looked surprised, the company eager—Mrs. Gardiner Green,
+frowning, sat down. Emily, pale and expectant, stood by Sophie’s side.
+
+“The inquest is over,” said Mrs. Green at last. “Your testimony will be
+supererogatory, Miss Churchill.”
+
+“Her deposition can be taken by a magistrate,” said Lieutenant Wilde.
+
+“Miss Churchill is not now of sound mind, she is ill, her testimony
+cannot be taken,” persisted the proud lady.
+
+Sophie Churchill was now standing by the side of the corpse—all eyes
+were turned towards her—_her_ eyes were bent straight forward across the
+room upon the bowed and shuddering figure of the minister; he _felt_ her
+gaze, he raised his head; her eyes full of deep reproach and dire
+determination encountered his—no longer cold and glittering like ice,
+and freezing the blood in her veins—oh, no! the anguish of a tortured
+soul _groaned_ through their glance—“_Mercy!_ Sophie.” That glance
+inspired Sophie’s heart with pity, but it was too late now, or _she_
+thought it was too late to retract. The magistrate commenced his
+examination. To his question—
+
+“When did you first see this woman?” she replied by relating the
+adventure in the dell. “And her finger pointed at the—at the Rev. Mr.
+Withers?”
+
+“Yes, sir,” replied Sophie, turning her head to avoid looking at the
+tortured countenance of the minister.
+
+“Did she speak?”
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+“What did she say?”
+
+“Gazing intently at me, and pointing to the minister, she said, ‘shun
+him!’”
+
+All eyes now turned in wonder and curiosity from Sophie to the minister.
+
+“Did you ever see her after this?”
+
+“Once.”
+
+“Where?”
+
+Sophie now related the visit to the Hall.
+
+“And she claimed to be Mr. Withers’s wife?”
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+“Did she appear to you to be of unsound mind?”
+
+“No, sir.”
+
+“You may stand aside.”
+
+The magistrates conversed apart for a while, then one of their number
+said,
+
+“Will Mr. Withers be kind enough to step forward?”
+
+The minister arose, and collecting and composing himself with an effort,
+approached the table—all conversation was suspended—all eyes were fixed
+upon him—he felt it.
+
+“Will Mr. Withers oblige us by telling all he may know of this
+unfortunate young person—of course we have no sort of right, _now_, to
+ask it—we appeal to the courtesy of Mr. Withers to satisfy an interest
+that we all feel in this most unfortunate young stranger?”
+
+Mr. Withers bowed, and declared himself ready to answer any question
+upon the subject.
+
+“We have no intention or desire to subject Mr. Withers to a legal
+examination,” said the first speaker, “we merely wished, that if it were
+not unpleasant, Mr. Withers would oblige us by volunteering such
+information as might be in his possession.”
+
+“Is she your _wife_, Mr. Withers?” chucklingly inquired an old country
+squire, who did not believe what he asked, but whom neither time, place,
+nor circumstance could debar from his jest. “Is she your _wife_?”
+
+“No, sir,” answered Mr. Withers, with dignity, “she is not my wife,
+gentlemen. I _do_ know this young woman, have known her from a child;
+her life for the last three years has been full of passion, sin,
+suffering, and sorrow that eventuated in insanity, and has ended as you
+may see in suicide. For the last year she has been my pensioner, and an
+inmate of the —— lunatic asylum. A few months ago I was informed by
+letter that she had escaped; yesterday evening I discovered that she was
+in this neighborhood, by coming upon her suddenly while she was
+conversing with Miss Churchill. I believe she followed me to this
+neighborhood, yet at my approach she fled. That was last night, her body
+was found this morning. This is all I have to tell, sirs.” He made a
+ceremonious bow, and retired from the table. The company gathered in
+groups to converse upon the singular event—the strange statement of the
+wanderer, given in the evidence of Miss Churchill, was scarcely
+noticed—just set down as the raving of a maniac. Withers approached
+Sophie, and, stooping, hissed in her ear, “Most cruel girl! do you deem
+what you have made me suffer? I have been stretched upon the rack, but
+you—you—_you_ are piling up wrath against a day of wrath. Mark _that_,
+Sophie Churchill!”
+
+The poor girl, after her extraordinary effort, had relapsed into utter
+languor, but she raised her languid eyes, and murmured,—
+
+“I think _you_ are.”
+
+He stopped, glanced around—no one was now observing him—stooped, and
+said,
+
+“What do you mean, Sophie? Do you think that I have ever wronged a hair
+of that poor creature’s head? No, Sophie, no—no, as I hoped to be saved,
+_never_!”
+
+He moved away from Sophie, and going to Mrs. Green, said,
+
+“My dear madam, I wish you to take Miss Churchill home with you this
+evening, and keep her there for the next two weeks; her health is sadly
+shaken by these exciting events. As for the school we must procure a
+substitute, or it must for the present be disbanded. I will remain here
+and attend to this interment.”
+
+The company were getting into their saddles to depart. Mrs. May, Mrs.
+Green, Lieutenant Wilde, and Mr. Withers, remained to tea.
+
+The golden beams of the setting sun that were shining through the
+foliage of the shade trees, making their leaves glisten like emeralds,
+and falling upon the piazza, were somewhat intercepted by the figure of
+Lieutenant Gusty as he walked up and down the piazza, ruminating to this
+effect, “Shall I now, or shall I not? I wonder if it is too early. I
+have known her only a short time, it is true, but then, how dearly I
+love her, and how wisely, the regard of my excellent sister proves. I am
+going away in a day, to stay three years; if I don’t speak now some one
+else may speak before I have another chance.” The entrance of Sophie
+from the house decided him by inspiring a sudden impulse. She had come
+out, and not seeing him, walked slowly up to the further end of the
+piazza, hung her head over the railing, and remained fixed in that
+attitude. Gusty walked rapidly up to her, and then back, and then up
+again, and then back. The third time approaching her, he said, while
+standing behind her,—
+
+“_Hem!_ Sophie, you _know_ you rather like me! and _I_ know it too,
+because Emily says so. And _I_, Sophie—well, never mind about me! So,
+Sophie, when I come back from sea again in three years from this, will
+you—will you—will you _have_ me? Now consider the circumstances, and
+don’t say, my own dear Sophie, that my proposal is _too soon_.”
+
+“_It is too late—too late_, dear Gusty,” she said, turning round; her
+eyes were fixed and despairing.
+
+“Too late,” he echoed, looking stupidly at her.
+
+“Too late,” she repeated; “I am betrothed. Even your sister—_my_ dear
+sister Emily, thinks that there is no escape _now_. I have just had a
+conversation with her.”
+
+“You—you are betrothed—to—to _whom_?”
+
+“You surely guess—to Mr. Withers.”
+
+He walked up and down the piazza with folded arms, chin bowed upon his
+bosom, eyes bent to the ground. At last he paused before her—bashfulness
+was gone now.
+
+“Look at me, Sophie! oh, my soul’s love, look at me!” She raised her
+eyes to his fine countenance—he _had_ a fine countenance. Curls black,
+silky, and shining, clustered around a brow fair, round, and polished as
+a woman’s—his dark eyes, now full of Heaven’s own love and wisdom, were
+bent upon hers.
+
+“My own loved sister—my own heart’s darling, _we_ are betrothed. Oh,
+believe it, Sophie!—believe it! _We_ are betrothed, Sophie! Listen! You
+have never loved before?”
+
+“_Never_, Gusty!”
+
+“And mine also is a virgin heart; beyond a general kindliness of feeling
+towards _all_ women, I have never loved before. Oh! Sophie, are _we_ not
+betrothed by God himself? Break through this other engagement forced
+upon you by circumstances, and give me your hand. Let us marry _this
+evening_, Sophie, and let me leave you with my sister until I come
+back—my own dear Sophie, _do this_. I would not for my soul’s salvation
+do anything or advise you to anything wrong, but indeed, my Sophie, I
+feel such a _right_ to you, such a _claim_ upon you, such a _property_
+in you, that I should feel myself wronged and ruined by any one who
+should wrest you from me.”
+
+She gazed unconsciously, entranced, up to his pure clear brow—to her it
+seemed the brow of an angel, and into his beautiful eyes, full of
+earnest strength, half pleading, half commanding, fixed upon her own.
+With an hysterical gasp and sob she fell forward; he caught her,
+strained her to his bosom. Her form was convulsed with emotion, her
+breast heaved strongly, heavily, and then her tears broke forth in
+floods; she wept abundantly upon his bosom. At last her emotion
+subsided. As the rain expends the clouds, clears the atmosphere, and
+refreshes the face of nature, so do tears relieve the heart, clear the
+brain, and renovate the system. Sophie’s emotion subsided, and then she
+quietly rose and said,
+
+“There, Gusty, it is over. Oh, my dear brother—_my brother_, let us be
+calmly wise. We may meet in heaven, but here, upon this earth below, we
+must never meet again, Gusty; we must never see each other’s face—hear
+each other’s voice again.”
+
+Here they were interrupted by the entrance of Emily, who came to tell
+Sophie that Mrs. Green was preparing to go. Sophie extended her hand to
+Augustus, who caught and pressed it to his lips. Then she re-entered the
+house.
+
+“No more of that, Augustus,” said Emily, “you must think of her no more;
+she is to be married in nine days to Mr. Withers.”
+
+The young man turned around hastily, and, with the occasional
+impetuosity of his nature, replied,
+
+“Think of her no more! Confound you, Emily! you talk as lightly, as
+composedly, of thinking of her no more, as though you spoke of a new
+coat—a visit. ‘Think of her no more!’ why, in the name of Heaven, did
+you throw us together—tell me that?”
+
+“Why? because I wished you to love and marry. Alas! I did not know,
+though it was rumored in the neighborhood, that Withers seriously
+thought of her, and could not have believed that they were engaged.” The
+young man groaned. “You will get over this when you are once more at
+sea. Come, Gusty, get up our horses, we must return home.”
+
+Mrs. Green, with Miss Churchill and Mrs. May, attended by her brother,
+left Heath Hall, and rode on to the point where three roads parted in
+company. Then Emily and her brother rode up to the carriage door and
+took leave. Augustus took Sophie’s hand in his own, their eyes met—their
+_souls_ met, in one intense and agonizing gaze, and parted. He left the
+neighborhood the next morning.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER X.
+                          AN UNEXPECTED EVENT.
+
+      “Yet it may be more lofty courage dwells
+        In one weak heart which braves an adverse fate,
+      Than his whose ardent soul indignant swells,
+        Warmed through the fight, or cheered through high debate.”
+                                          MRS. NORTON.
+
+
+A wedding was Mrs. Gardiner Green’s delight. In Maryland and Virginia, a
+country wedding promises festivity for weeks to come. The marriage
+ceremony takes place at _night_, in the presence of the _élite_ of all
+the neighboring counties. Visitors from a distance remain all night. The
+breakfast next morning is a state affair; it is followed by a
+dinner-party and ball, given at the house of the bridegroom’s parents or
+that of some of his friends. Then the nearest relations give balls in
+succession; then the most intimate friends. Generally the bride and
+bridegroom, with their attendants, remain all night at the house where
+the dinner and the ball are given. Thus a marriage in high life in the
+country throws a quiet neighborhood into convulsions for weeks, making
+it resemble a city in the height of the “season.” It is a downright
+windfall to the young men and girls, and it is a country proverb that
+“One marriage makes many.” In the approaching marriage of Miss Churchill
+and Mr. Withers there was one serious drawback to the pleasant
+anticipations of the young men and maidens. The bridegroom was a
+clergyman; therefore there could be no balls, only the wedding and
+dinner parties. Mrs. Green was in her glory—her preparations for display
+were magnificent; the wedding dresses, confectionery, &c., had been
+ordered from Baltimore and were arrived. And Sophie, she was now quite
+resigned; she had been the guest of Mrs. Green since the day of the
+inquest. Mr. Withers had recovered his composure, and was with her, as
+usual, a part of every day. Sophie’s brain and heart were in an apathy.
+The only action of her mind was an indolent surprise at the indifference
+she felt for everything going on around her, the deadness of all
+sensibility, the stillness of her nerves; even the frigid and formal
+kiss of Withers imprinted on her hand at meeting, or at parting, no
+longer sent an ague thrill through all her veins—the contentment of
+despair had come.
+
+The evening of the marriage arrived; the handsomely furnished house of
+Mrs. Gardiner Green was elegantly decorated and thrown open from attic
+to cellar to the numerous expected visitors. Mrs. Green herself,
+elegantly attired, was superintending the bridal toilet of Sophie in the
+dressing-room of the latter. The dress of Miss Churchill, prepared by
+the taste of Mrs. Green, was a white satin skirt, and over that a white
+gauze embroidered all over with silver flowers, a large white lace veil,
+looped up above her brow by a single small diamond star, leaving room to
+the slight elegant wreath of orange buds that lightly rested on her
+smoothly braided hair. Rose Green and another young lady of the
+neighborhood attended her as bridesmaids. A murmur of admiration ran
+through the crowded parlors as Sophie was led in by Mr. Withers, and the
+bridal party took their stand in the centre of the room. The bishop of
+the diocese, summoned from Baltimore, was in attendance to perform the
+ceremony. He wore the usual full wide black gown of an Episcopal
+clergyman. The bridal party stood before him cheerily; the young
+bridesmaids and groomsmen stood in reverent _attitude_, their eyes bent
+upon the ground, but the corners of their lips full of dimples, scarcely
+repressing their smiles—stern and solemn stood the tall thin figure of
+the dark bridegroom, and cold and pale and quiet Sophie waited. Once she
+raised her eyelids, but her glance fell on the black gown and solemn
+countenance of the clergyman before her, and she quickly dropped them
+again. He seemed to her the incarnation of darkest doom. She felt a
+dreary sinking of the heart as the first words of the ritual fell upon
+her ear, as the sentence of death falls upon the criminal hearing. It
+was over. It was over—friends and neighbors crowded around her with
+their congratulations. First, Emily May drew her to her bosom, and
+imprinting a kiss upon her brow, whispered hastily—
+
+“Courage, love! nothing is so illusory as the emotions of a bride; many
+a reluctant bride has become a loving and happy wife, many a hopeful and
+joyous bride has seen her happiness decay and die—courage, love.”
+
+Sophie scarcely knew who spoke these hasty words, or how she at last
+found herself seated with her husband and attendants by her side.
+Refreshments were served around, and that occupied the company for the
+next hour; then a low hum of suppressed gaiety was heard all over the
+room, among the lively young people brought together in the expectation
+of enjoyment, and now growing uneasy under the restraint put upon their
+gaiety. The young people voted the parson’s wedding a stupid affair—a
+disappointment—quite a failure. At last, Miss Rogers, the second
+bridesmaid of Sophie, a merry little maiden, not overladen with
+veneration, jumped up from her seat, and standing before the solemn
+bridegroom, said—
+
+“Now, Mr. Withers, you are very happy, or you _ought_ to be, as folks
+call the bridegroom ‘_the_ happy man,’ and you ought to be willing for
+other people who are not ‘happy’ at least to be _merry_, poor souls. Now
+we young folks who are not brides and bridegrooms want to console
+ourselves by dancing—there! and you are worse than ‘the dog in the
+manger’ if you don’t let us dance.”
+
+Mr. Withers answered,
+
+“There is a higher authority than my own, present, Miss Rogers; I refer
+you to the bishop.”
+
+The girl’s head slightly started back, and her eyes opened in an
+awe-struck gaze _an instant_, as she turned to look upon the high
+dignitary of the church. To Sophie’s sorrowing vision he had seemed the
+dark minister of a dark fate; to the merry maiden as she now looked at
+him, he appeared a jolly old gentleman enough, so she smiled merrily,
+and tripped up to him, and said with saucy shyness,
+
+“I say, Dr. Otterback, we all—we girls—want to dance; _Solomon_ danced,
+you know; now have you any objection?”
+
+The old gentleman took her chin in his fat hand and made her little
+teeth chatter like a pair of castanets, while looking down in her young
+face with a merry, genial kindness, he said—
+
+“Yes, child! a very _serious_ objection.”
+
+“Oh! Dr. Otterback, _now_, I don’t believe it; what is it? David danced,
+you know, and I never feel so happy, or thank God so much for making me,
+as when I am dancing; _now_, Dr. Otterback, what objection _can_ you
+have?”
+
+“A very serious one, my child, I tell you—_this_—the sound of a fiddle
+plays upon my feet and legs like the fingers of little Miss Rogers upon
+the piano keys—sets them in motion; can’t help it; the merriment and the
+wickedness bubbles up from the bottom of my heart, and the old man Adam
+grows too strong for me; now you wouldn’t have me pirouetting and
+pigeon-winging it all around this room, would you?”
+
+“Wouldn’t I? I should love churches and bishops better all my life
+after,” laughed the maiden.
+
+He shook his head, patted her rosy cheek, and sent her off.
+
+The rooms were crowded and close, though all the windows and doors were
+open; the night was warm, and the moon was shining brightly out of
+doors. At last one and then another couple began to stroll out into the
+lawn and garden. As a matter of etiquette the bridal party kept their
+seats much longer; all, except the little bridesmaid, Miss Rogers, who
+never minded etiquette; she mingled with the company on the lawn, until
+Mrs. Gardiner Green seeing her said—
+
+“I am astonished at you, Miss Rogers; return to your post.”
+
+Then the little maiden ran up the marble steps in front of the house,
+and there she paused, unwilling to enter the warm rooms. The company on
+the lawn had wandered off into the grove, and she stood there watching
+their departed footsteps. Her eyes wandered over the scene, and at last
+were fixed by a figure on the gravel walk approaching from the gate
+towards the house. The figure hurried nervously forward, sprang up the
+steps, and stood before her taking breath. He was a youth of perhaps
+seventeen, with a broad fair forehead and golden hair. He caught her
+hand and inquired anxiously,
+
+“Are _you_ Miss Churchill?”
+
+“No, indeed, thank Heaven, I am not Miss Churchill,” replied the maiden,
+wondering.
+
+“Where is Miss Churchill—where is she? I must see her immediately.”
+
+“Miss Churchill is no more; Mrs. Withers is in the drawing-room.”
+
+“Good God! I am too late; it is all over then!”
+
+“_Quite_; you should have come sooner; the bride-cake is even eaten up.”
+
+“Young lady—what is your name?”
+
+“Blanche Rogers.”
+
+“Miss Rogers, you can procure me an interview with—with the bride.”
+
+“I will take you in and present you with great pleasure, if,” laughed
+the young lady, “you will favor me with your credentials.”
+
+“Miss Rogers, my name is Raymond—no, I cannot tell you now; will you be
+kind enough to go to Mrs. Withers, and tell her that one wishes to see
+her for a moment at the door.”
+
+The maiden looked at him keenly, and saying to herself, “Such a boy can
+have no evil design,” replied, hesitatingly, “Yes,” and turned slowly to
+do his bidding, looking back, once or twice, suspiciously. She found
+Sophie alone with Mrs. Green. Mr. Withers was in conversation with the
+bishop in a distant part of the room.
+
+“My dear Sophie,” said she, “there is a young man out in the piazza that
+asks to see you.”
+
+“A young man?”
+
+“Well, yes; that is to say, a very young man—a boy.”
+
+Sophie arose and passed into the piazza, and, except her cold pale face,
+like a radiant visitant from the skies she looked, as her dazzling
+raiment of white and silver flashed in the moonbeams. At the further end
+of the piazza, the moonlight fell upon a slight boyish figure clad in
+deep mourning, and leaning upon the balustrade. Sophie approached him;
+he raised his head and stepped forward; she met his eyes and started,
+suppressed a scream, and trembling violently, leaned against the
+parapet, as she recognised the slender form and wan face, the intense
+gaze, the ultra-marine blue eyes, and the floating golden locks of the
+wanderer, and—
+
+“Have you, indeed, unhappy one, risen from the grave to reproach, to
+warn me?” involuntarily escaped her lips.
+
+“Be calm, Miss Churchill; I do not know what you mean by your question,
+since I have never been dead, and do not remember even to have seen, far
+less reproached or warned you.”
+
+“Who are you, then; I—I do not know whether I am sane or not. I am
+afraid my brain is reeling; who are you?”
+
+“Dear young lady, I have startled you; _why_ I do not see; will you give
+me an interview in some place where we cannot be interrupted?”
+
+“Tell me who you are?”
+
+“You are not afraid of me?”
+
+“No—oh, no; but I wish, of course, to know the name and business of one
+who calls me out at night for a private interview.”
+
+“My name is Frank Raymond Withers; I am the only son, the only _child_
+of the Reverend John Huss Withers, and Fanny Raymond.”
+
+There was a dash of bitterness in the mock ceremonious manner with which
+he announced himself. Sophie heard him with clasped hands and earnest
+downcast brow. She remained in deep thought a moment; then suddenly
+catching his hand, she said,
+
+“Yes, I _must_ have an interview with you, where none can overhear us.
+Come with me,” and retaining his hand and drawing him after her, she
+passed up the piazza, down the central marble steps, across the lawn,
+and taking a narrow path through the grove, led him down a deep dell,
+into a rustic arbor built over the spring, dropping into a seat, she
+said,
+
+“Dip me up some cold water, that I may drink, and grow strong for this
+interview.”
+
+He performed her bidding. She bathed her fevered hands and brow, she
+drank a deep draught of the lifegiving beverage, and then she composed
+herself, and said, as he stood before her,
+
+“Sit down; I _too_ have something to reveal, as well as to learn.”
+
+He took a seat opposite to her.
+
+“First, what was your purpose in seeking me, this evening?”
+
+“To save you from a marriage that could result in nothing but
+wretchedness and ruin.”
+
+“Explain yourself!”
+
+“Your husband, John Huss Withers, is—a lunatic!”
+
+“What?”
+
+“A _lunatic_!”
+
+“Gracious heavens! Oh, yes! I see it all—_all now_!—that fearful light
+in his eyes!”
+
+“And you will withdraw yourself from him before it is too late; you will
+reveal this fact and demand an immediate separation?”
+
+“Stop, stop,” said Sophie, raising her hand to her brow, “Stop, I am
+dizzy, bewildered; how came this about? how has he so successfully
+concealed it for the months that he has been with us? and is it
+_hereditary_? Tell me all about it.”
+
+“The malady is _not_ hereditary; no member of the family was ever known
+to have lost his or her reason; severe domestic affliction—trials, oh!
+trials that would have—that might have riven the strongest, firmest
+heart in two, that might have shaken into chaos the best regulated mind,
+clouded the clearest reason. Listen, Miss Churchill. Mr. Withers, my
+father, was morbidly proud, his pride was brought to the dust; he was
+delicately sensitive; he was stricken to the heart; his health gave way;
+his reason failed. With the strange cunning of a lunatic, and under the
+favor of circumstances, he has succeeded in concealing this malady from
+the world. In his first one or two attacks, _I_ was his keeper by
+chance; _after_ the first two or three, he learned by the premonitory
+symptoms when to seclude himself; and so, no symptom, no effect of his
+malady has yet appeared but this: the burning eloquence, the super-human
+power of intellect revealed in his occasional sermons; and, as long as
+it properly could be kept, in fact up to this moment, I have kept his
+secret; believing that if he knew it to be revealed, his proud and
+sensitive nature would be so shocked and wounded that the last light of
+reason would go out; that he would become a raving maniac. But, Miss
+Churchill, when I saw another person, a young girl, about to be
+sacrificed to him (for my father wrote to me, at college, of his
+approaching marriage, not deeming that I would interfere), I deemed it
+my duty to reveal his secret, at least, to his affianced bride. Now,
+Miss Churchill, you have your own fate and _his_ in your power; reveal
+his secret, save yourself. No one in the world could blame you for
+separating yourself from him.”
+
+Sophie remained with her hand pressed upon her brow, so still she might
+have been taken for a statue.
+
+“I am ready Miss Churchill, to aid your release by my testimony. Your
+marriage can be dissolved in a few days, by legislative action; do not
+be cast down.”
+
+“Oh! stop, hush!” said Sophie, “let me think—let me think. My God! help
+thy child!”
+
+She pressed her hand upon her brow tightly, then she spoke.
+
+“Say! you think the revelation of this secret would affect him very
+seriously?”
+
+“It would destroy his reason utterly, irrevocably, I think.”
+
+“You say that this malady is accidental, circumstantial, and not
+hereditary?”
+
+“Entirely—entirely the result of overwhelming affliction.”
+
+Sophie sighed deeply; “It is hard to ask a son to criminate his father;
+yet _justice_—tell me, were these afflictions brought about by _his
+sin_?
+
+The youth paused, looked down, groaned heavily, and at last hesitatingly
+replied;—
+
+“No; not by _his sin_; that were too harsh a term; by his error, or
+rather his _mistake_.”
+
+Sophie sighed more heavily than before, then she said—
+
+“Young man, you are the son of Fanny Raymond; who _was_ Fanny Raymond,
+your mother?”
+
+“She was the wife of Mr. Withers, of course.”
+
+“When did she die, and where, and under what circumstances?”
+
+The youth abruptly turned and hurried from the arbor, walked
+distractedly up and down the plat before it for some minutes, then
+returning, said in faltering tones to Sophie—
+
+“Do not ask me—_do not ask me_, I beg of you—be at ease—you are the
+bride of Mr. Withers, but you need not be his wife. Come, Sophie
+Churchill, I am ready to go with you to the house and say all, and if
+really needful, _more_, to the assembled company there than I have said
+to you. Come!”
+
+“No,” said Sophie, passing her hand thoughtfully before her brow;
+“Stop—stop,” then after awhile she held out one hand behind her to where
+the youth was standing, and said, “Raymond, come to me—sit beside
+me—unlock your inmost heart to me, poor boy. Come—I am your friend; tell
+me now why do you wish to save me by exposing your father?”
+
+He came and sat beside her, and fixing his sad blue eyes upon her face
+said—
+
+“That I might not be accessary to your misery, Miss Churchill. I have
+kept his secret and borne the risk of concealment myself; I had no right
+to suffer the life of another to be risked by my silence.”
+
+Sophie sighed again, with her head bowed upon her hand, and asked—
+
+“Is he ever so violent and dangerous, then?”
+
+“No, not positively violent, but _dangerous_, I fear, Miss Churchill.”
+
+“He has never certainly had an attack since he has been here.”
+
+“You do not know—has he never been absent?”
+
+“Yes, for days, when no one knew where he was; for in his reserve he
+would not reveal his business, and no one durst ask him.”
+
+“Ah! at such times, warned by the premonitory symptoms of his disease,
+he secluded himself—perhaps in the depths of the forest—perhaps threw
+himself on board of a packet and slipped up to Baltimore.”
+
+“Oh! how wretched, how wretched he must have been, must still be, with
+no one here to whom he dare trust his dreadful secret.”
+
+“And is it possible, Miss Churchill, that no one suspected it here—that
+no eccentricity of manner threatened to betray him to those that were
+about him every day?”
+
+Sophie took his delicate hand in hers, and pressing it kindly, said—
+
+“Raymond, do not call me Miss Churchill, or speak to me as a stranger,
+or as an indifferent acquaintance; I am so no longer; you must love me,
+and confide in me, Raymond; you and I have a mutual and a holy duty to
+perform.”
+
+“Yes,” said he, with a bitter sigh, “we must go and make this known. Oh,
+my unhappy father!”
+
+“Poor boy, you have misunderstood me; did you think,” she said, passing
+her hand over his troubled brow, smoothing away the golden ringlets, and
+looking kindly in his face, “did you think that I was going selfishly to
+expose and abandon your father? No, Raymond—no, poor boy—I am weak, and
+sometimes cowardly, but never cruel or selfish—I never wantonly
+destroyed the smallest insect, or wounded, purposely, the worst or the
+lowest human being; and since I have been sitting here, Raymond, I know
+not what sort of a strange strength has entered my soul! Yes, your
+arrival just now is providential, and with your words the spirit of God
+has descended upon me. The Lord has given me something to do for His
+sake, and endowed me with strength to do it. And you are my co-laborer,
+Raymond. To dress the wounds of this poor warrior, beaten and bruised,
+bleeding and fainting on the field of the battle of life; to raise and
+nurse him back to life and health—this is our work.”
+
+How beautiful she looked in her young devotion,—the moonlight fell upon
+her fair, pure brow, clothing it with an angelic radiance.
+
+“Oh, but the sacrifice, will you immolate yourself thus, Miss
+Churchill?”
+
+“Strange! but I do not feel it as such; I feel lifted up, elevated,
+strengthened, filled with light and a strange joy.”
+
+“Beautiful inspired one!” exclaimed the boy, with enthusiasm.
+
+“Come,” said Sophie, rising, “let us return to the house, I shall be
+missed; did your father expect you?”
+
+“He wrote that I might come if I pleased; but has he never mentioned me,
+Miss Churchill?”
+
+“Never.”
+
+“Why was that?”
+
+“Abstraction—forgetfulness—something.”
+
+“Come with me, then, I will present you to him.”
+
+“Oh, Miss Churchill—gentle Sophie—do you feel no inward resentment
+towards my unhappy father, for the marriage into which he has led you?”
+
+“None in the world. Is not his reason clouded, his thoughts all jarred
+and out of tune? No, I feel that he was led by, to him, a blind impulse,
+really by Providence, to the only one who could nurse him back to health
+of mind and body. Raymond, we can cure this sick heart, clear this
+clouded brain, restore this ruin. Come!”
+
+And they left the arbor, and took their way towards the house.
+
+During the interview, a revolution had taken place in Sophie’s soul; all
+her deep religious feeling, her latent passion for self-devotion, her
+enthusiasm, her benevolence, had been called forth. Thus softened by
+pity, and inspired by her own high ideal of duty, she determined to
+devote herself to the tranquility of his shrunken and tortured life,
+with one purpose—his restoration to mental and physical health. She
+passed from the arbor no joyous or reluctant bride, but a high-souled
+devotee, in possession of duty for which she must live. An hour before,
+she had seemed a trembling, shrinking, suffering victim, offered in
+_useless, objectless_ sacrifice; now, she was a cheerful, self-possessed
+human soul, who had solved the problem of her life, and held the answer
+in her hands.
+
+Among the passions of the human soul is one not often, if ever,
+mentioned as such by moralists and metaphysicians: the passion of
+self-devotion. Yet, that this certainly exists, and deserves to be
+classed with the others, is proved by the large number of human beings
+acting under its influence. It acts in religion, in love, in
+benevolence, in philanthropy, and patriotism—but it is totally distinct
+from and independent of each—a separate passion, sometimes acting alone.
+
+This passion, in its right motion, inspires the highly beneficial
+devotion of the Sister of Charity—in its perverted action, kindles the
+barren enthusiasm of the nun. A philanthropist, a patriot, under the
+rational influence of this passion, becomes as the Sister of Charity,
+one of the greatest benefactors of his race; under its irrational
+influence, becomes as the secluded nun or monk, _lost_; or as the
+fanatic, mischievous or dangerous to society.
+
+They returned to the house. Meeting Mrs. Green first, Sophie led the
+youth up to her, and presented him as the son of Mr. Withers, just
+arrived from college. The lady received him with much courtesy, asked
+him where she should send for his trunks, and whether he would not
+prefer being shown into a dressing-room before being introduced into the
+drawing-room. Expressing his thanks with a gentle grace, he named the
+village tavern as the place where his baggage lay, and declining the use
+of a _chambre de toilette_, bowed his leave, and giving his arm to
+Sophie, passed into the room; the rooms were thinned out considerably,
+most of the company had strayed out into the garden and groves.
+
+Mr. Withers was standing near the window in conversation with the
+bishop. Sophie, leaving Raymond at a short distance behind, walked up to
+him, and laying her small hand upon his arm, said gently and cheerfully—
+
+“Mr. Withers, your son has come at last—you expected him, I believe.”
+
+Withers started, more at the cheerful, genial tone in which these words
+were spoken, than at the news they conveyed. The bishop, also, whose
+kindly affectionate nature scarcely let a young person pass him without
+a caressing word or gesture,—the bishop turned around, and patting her
+chin, said archly:—
+
+“You have got over your terror, little lady; you seemed to think I was
+going to hang you when you stood up before me.”
+
+But Sophie stepped back, and beckoning Raymond to approach, presented
+him.
+
+“How do you do, Raymond? This is my son, Dr. Otterback,” were the only
+words of greeting or of introduction bestowed upon the youth by his
+father. Dr. Otterback immediately addressed his conversation to the
+young man, and Withers turned and looked in Sophie’s face; her
+countenance was serene, cheerful, kindly; what _could_ be the reason? he
+was at a loss to account for it; yet he felt the shadow and the weight
+lifting from his own heart, passing from his own brain. Love, charity,
+the very sun of the moral atmosphere when it shines out, how the vapors
+are lifted, how the clouds disperse, how all nature rises and smiles in
+its beams.
+
+“All our friends are out upon the lawn—it is pleasant there. Will you
+come out, Mr. Withers?” she asked.
+
+For the first time since she had known him, with an air of graceful
+self-possession and gallantry, he lifted her fair hand to his lips, drew
+her arm within his own, and led her forth. They sat down upon the bench
+in the piazza. At first she talked cheerfully of the nearest topics of
+conversation, the company, the night, the weather, the moon; but seeing
+that he relapsed into silence and dejection, she thought he felt
+compunction for all the ill he had wrought her, and that this
+compunction was awakened by her own kindness to him. She was not sorry
+that he felt this; yet now she wished to dissipate the gloom. Laying her
+hand timidly, gently, upon his brow, and raising from it the heavy mass
+of black hair that seemed to rest there like a cloud, she said:—
+
+“Come, clear your brow, Mr. Withers, or you will make me fear that you
+regret taking under your wing a little girl like me.”
+
+“And I _do_ regret it, Sophie—I _do_ regret it!” he said, and sighing
+heavily, he arose and paced up and down the piazza several times, and
+then threw himself into a seat far from her. She watched him there; at
+first from natural feelings of delicacy she hesitated to approach him;
+but when he dropped his head between his hands, and sigh after sigh and
+groan after groan rent his bosom, she paused no longer, but arising,
+crossed the piazza, and taking the seat by his side, and taking his
+hand, she pressed it between her own. He turned and gazed inquiringly
+into her eyes, his gaze no longer cold, brilliant, and chilling, but
+still piercing, and full of anguish. Suddenly he shut his eyes, and
+groaning “Oh Sophie!” turned away his head and attempted to withdraw his
+hand. She retained and pressed it, and again passing her soft, cool hand
+over his hot brow, she said, gently—
+
+“Come, Mr. Withers, cheer up, have faith in me. I love you.—I _do_—not,
+indeed, with the glad love of a young bride for the young husband of her
+choice, but with a feeling that will stand you in better stead—that will
+perhaps last longer and bear more—with the serious, thoughtful love one
+earnest human soul that has known isolation and sorrow can feel for
+another, desolated, tortured, suffering, yet worthy in its anguish, of
+admiration and respect.”
+
+He started up, then dropped into his seat again, exclaiming—
+
+“Sophie! I do not understand you; what is the meaning of this? What has
+brought about this strange, this—ah! but for _one_ fact—blessed change
+in your feelings towards me?”
+
+“That very fact you allude to—that _very_ fact!” then dropping her voice
+to its softest, gentlest tones she murmured—“You have a secret that
+corrodes and burns your heart out—a dreadful suffering that being
+suppressed has gained depth, and strength, and intensity—a fearful
+malady that being concealed has increased in power; let it be so no
+longer; relieve your overladen breast; pour all your sorrows into your
+wife’s bosom—she will never betray or forsake you. Oh! believe it. She
+partly knows your secret—she knows that sometimes—under some
+influences—a storm drives in your fine mind—that the clouds gather thick
+and black—the thunder roars and the lightnings flash, and that all is
+confusion, danger, and terror for a space—she also knows that when this
+storm has passed through your soul, the sun of reason shines out calm
+and bright. She knows all this, and she loves you for these sufferings.”
+
+He had grown as pale as death while she spoke, his features wearing the
+expression of deepest despair; he dropped his head upon his hands, his
+elbows resting on his knees, and groaned.
+
+“Then it is all at an end, this masquerade. When was it discovered—when
+did I betray myself, Sophie, and who knows of this besides yourself?”
+
+“Except your son, no one besides myself; and it is indispensable that I
+should know it.”
+
+“And he told you—curse—”
+
+“Oh, do not say that!”
+
+“I did not wish you to know it, Sophie; I was merciful, or selfish, or
+proud, and firm and cunning enough to keep it from you, Sophie, as I
+have kept it from every one else.”
+
+“Yes, and increased your own suffering and danger, and diminished the
+chances of cure. And, Mr. Withers, you would have suffered more in
+concealing your illness from me than from any one else. You would have
+found more difficulty in it, and dreaded more the consequences of the
+constantly threatened discovery. Now you have a friend and confidant—now
+you will be at peace, will you not?”
+
+He drew her to his bosom and blessed her. A summons to supper now called
+all the company in. He arose, and drawing her arm through his own,
+entered the house.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XI.
+                                 HAGAR.
+
+          “The wild sparkle of her eye seemed caught
+          From high—and lightened with electric thought—
+          And pleased not her the sports that please her age.”
+                                                  BYRON.
+
+
+Let me pass briefly over the events of the next few years. Four or five
+weeks of solemn merry-making, dull dinners, and duller evening parties,
+completed the wedding festivities of the minister. An agreeable change
+had passed over the appearance of the minister—his countenance had lost
+somewhat of its gloom—his manners of their austerity, and his tones
+their hard curtness. Sophie’s demeanor revealed the sober cheerfulness
+befitting a clergyman’s bride. Raymond accompanied them everywhere, and
+everywhere was the delicate beauty, and gentle grace, and pensive air of
+the boy admired. Little Hagar also accompanied them. Sophie and Hagar
+had been so united—her care and attention had been so exclusively
+devoted to Hagar, that now that another claimed a larger share of her
+time and thoughts, and now that she felt the keen eyes of the
+sprite-like child jealously following her every motion closely, she
+loved Hagar with a remorseful tenderness—strange but natural. Mothers
+sometimes feel the same for the children to whom they have given even a
+good and beloved step-father. This is an illusion, and grows out of the
+false idea that our love is like any material and mortal thing, limited
+in quantity, and that what is given to one is necessarily withdrawn from
+another. Sophie took Hagar with her wherever they went, even to evening
+parties, where the child, with the obstinacy of spoiled children in
+general and her own nature in particular, refused to go to bed as long
+as Sophie sat up.
+
+There she would sit—the only child in a room crowded with grown
+people—alone, in a corner, quite neglected, her glittering eyes glancing
+around the room, and springing off in aversion when they fell upon the
+figure of Mr. Withers. She was beginning to hate him intensely, merely
+because he occupied so much of the time and attention of Sophie, whom
+she passionately loved. Her first interview with Raymond Withers is
+worthy of relation as characteristic of both. It was the night after the
+wedding, and a large party were crowded in the sober-hued parlor of
+Emily May. Hagar had been staying at the cottage for the last few
+days—and this night she first rejoined Sophie after her marriage. Here
+she was sitting, as I have described, neglected and apparently forgotten
+in a corner. Sophie could not well approach her, and Emily, ever
+thoughtful as she was, this evening had overlooked her, in her attention
+to her guests. The child’s wild eyes were gleaming brightly, fiercely,
+under her sharply projecting brows; her preternaturally developed
+perceptive faculties were at work. Refreshments had been carried around
+twice or thrice by the servants, and they had overlooked her. At last
+she saw, it was the first time she had seen him, a delicate,
+golden-haired youth, in deep mourning, enter the room. He went directly
+up to Sophie and remained by her side. The keen eyes of the child were
+immediately riveted upon him. There was a pensiveness, a thoughtfulness
+upon his fair young brow that seemed to isolate him even among the
+crowd. He stood by the side and a little behind Sophie’s chair, and
+except when he stooped to catch an occasional word from her, he stood
+unmoved and almost unobservant in the room. Once his eyes were raised,
+and their sad gaze chanced to meet the wild eyes of the little girl
+fixed with interest on his face. He bent down, and pointing to Hagar
+spoke to Sophie. Sophie’s glance followed the indication of his finger,
+then raising her countenance to his she answered him. He immediately
+separated himself from the party, passed into the supper room, and
+returning, walked up to the child, spread her handkerchief over her lap,
+poured into it a plateful of cakes and sweetmeats, and took a seat by
+her side.
+
+“Did Sophie send me these?” inquired the child.
+
+“No.”
+
+“Why did you bring them, then?”
+
+“You looked lonesome, and dull, and I thought it would amuse you.”
+
+“Ah! I thought Sophie did not send them—she never thinks of me now.”
+
+“Why do you say that?”
+
+“Because it is true; she used to keep me always by her side, or on her
+lap; now for two or three days she has left me here with Mrs. May, and
+now that she has come, she scarcely speaks to me!” exclaimed the child,
+and her black eyes flashed under her sharp brows, and her white teeth
+gleamed under her upturned lip as she spoke.
+
+A soft smile hovered an instant around the beautiful lips and under the
+golden eye-lashes of the youth, as he said—
+
+“You look so like a little playful, spiteful, black kitten, that I am
+almost afraid of your teeth and claws—however—” and stooping down he
+daintily lifted the child and set her on his lap. Then he said, “I think
+you are a jealous little girl.”
+
+“I don’t know what ‘jealous’ is, but I don’t like to be robbed of what
+is mine.”
+
+“You are selfish, I am afraid, little one—who has robbed you?”
+
+“Mr. Withers has got Sophie, and now he may have her, for I don’t care.”
+
+“You are a proud little lady.”
+
+He caressed her straight black hair, adjusted her somewhat disordered
+dress, and began to crack nuts for her, but her eyes were fixed upon the
+group at the opposite end of the room, and suddenly she said—
+
+“I wish Mr. Withers was dead—I do so!”
+
+“Oh! horror!” said the young man, now really shocked. “Revengeful, too,
+Hagar! Mr. Withers is my father.”
+
+“Is he? I did not know that—I am so sorry—but, oh! he has taken Sophie
+away from me, and now I am _so_ lonesome,” and the child burst out
+crying.
+
+                “And where have you been, my pretty lad,
+                Where have you been all day?”
+
+sang little Miss Rogers, dancing up to them—“Come, Raymond! or I beg
+your pardon—_Mr._ Raymond Withers—for you hobble-de-hoys are awful
+punctilious about your dignity—are you going to stay here nursing that
+spoiled brat all night? We are forming a round game at forfeits in the
+other room, and we want you.”
+
+“Don’t go,” whispered the child.
+
+Raymond set her off his lap, arose, and apologizing to Miss Rogers,
+gracefully declined her invitation. The maiden pouted, smiled, threw up
+her head, and tripped away.
+
+“Ain’t you good, to stay with me, instead of going with her? take me up
+again,” and she held out both her arms to him.
+
+He smiled gently, and raised her, and how beautifully broke the glad
+smile over her dark, wild countenance, as she looked up in his face.
+From that hour the youth and infant were companions, confidants, and
+friends.
+
+At this time it was that the germ of a passion, fraught with much evil
+to the whole of Hagar’s life, took root in her heart—a passion destined
+by mal-cultivation to be fostered into monstrous growth—JEALOUSY; and
+this grew out of Sophie’s thoughtless concentration of mind upon her new
+duty, just at this juncture; it is true that this mood of mind lasted
+but a few days, but in these days the seed of evil was sown.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+They were settled at Heath Hall. The time occupied by them in the
+wedding festivities while they were inmates of the Glade—the guests of
+Mrs. Gardiner Green—was also improved at the Heath. Workmen had been
+sent thither, and the house put in some repair. The negroes had been
+called home from hire, and set to work in clearing up the grounds—piling
+the weeds, briers, and rubbish up—drying and burning them for manure—in
+repairing old and putting up new fences, &c. The brick wall inclosing
+the garden, and running round the very edge of the promontory, had been
+mended, the garden put in order, and the wild and desolate aspect of the
+whole place somewhat ameliorated. On the day of their return to Heath
+Hall, a dinner and an evening party of course, had been given, and that
+was the last. The next day they were left quietly in possession of their
+own home.
+
+There, reader! Northern reader, and city reader, you have now some idea
+of country weddings in middle life in Maryland and Virginia,—very
+different, you will admit, from city weddings. Raymond remained with
+them until the first of September, when his college term commencing, he
+returned to the North. Hagar grieved wildly after him, and threw herself
+upon her face when the packet in which he sailed disappeared up the
+river. His return to college had been doubtful, but was decided by an
+event that had occurred about two weeks after their return to the Heath.
+Up to the day of their return, the health and spirits of Mr. Withers had
+continued to improve. In a few days after their arrival, however—after
+the new moon, and as it increased to its full, the sleep of Withers
+became disturbed, his nights were uneasy, and his days gloomy—a deadly
+pallor settled on his face—his features became haggard, his cheeks
+hollow, and his eyes sunken and glowing in their deep sockets. Now
+Sophie’s heart trembled with uneasiness, now palpitated with alarm.
+Raymond was now ever at her side with words of gentle affection and
+cheerful encouragement—the boy seemed old and wise beyond his years, by
+the preternatural development by suffering;—he requested Sophie not to
+permit his father to perceive her knowledge that the terrible crisis of
+his malady was at hand, and they both redoubled their attentions to him.
+Daily his manner became more eccentric and alarming; he would sit at the
+table gloomy and glowering without uttering a word during the meal—then
+rising up he would walk off to the forest, or the beach—Raymond
+following him at a safe distance. Sometimes he would look back before
+leaving the house, remorsefully at Sophie, would return, take her hand,
+and then with a sudden change of mood—his green eyes scintillating
+sparks of fire—fling it from him with violence, and hurry off. Raymond
+grew hourly more wretchedly anxious on Sophie’s account. Day and night
+she was exposed, alone, to the danger of his violence. One morning when
+Sophie had come down to prepare breakfast, she found Raymond already in
+the breakfast-room—he advanced to meet her.
+
+“Where is my father, Sophie?”
+
+“In his chamber—he has not slept the whole night.”
+
+“Sophie! I wish to say this to you—there is a malignity in his madness
+now that I have never seen before—it is a new feature, and it excites my
+fears for you. Sophie, leave him here in my care, and go and visit your
+friend, Mrs. May, for a few days—_do_, Sophie.”
+
+“How, Raymond! was my pledge given, my mission undertaken only for easy
+and safe duty—was there any proviso made that as soon as it became
+onerous, or dangerous, it should be abandoned? No, Raymond, I will be
+firm through these dark days—they will soon be past, and I shall feel
+repaid.”
+
+“But your life—your _life_ may be endangered.”
+
+“‘Life’—why, Raymond, of what great value is _my_ life, that it should
+not be risked in a good cause?”
+
+“I do believe, Sophie, that it was your being brought up in that room
+papered with the martyrs, that has given this singular bias to your
+character—why, Sophie, the world knowing your history in connexion with
+my father, would consider _you_ the most insane of the two.”
+
+They were standing side by side at the window, looking out upon the
+bay—its rippling waves glittering in the morning sun, its dark green
+bosom relieved by the white sails of a packet moving up the river. They
+had not heard the entrance of Withers, who approached and stood behind
+them—his face pale, his livid lips compressed, his eyes drawn in and
+glowing in their deep sockets.
+
+“But, dear Sophie,” continued the youth, “we must think of some place
+for securing your safety.”
+
+In an instant the hands of Withers fell heavily upon his neck.
+
+“Perfidious son of a perfidious mother!” he exclaimed, shaking him
+violently, “her image in heart and mind, as well as in person—traitor
+and reprobate! would you wile the love of my bride away from me? would
+you teach her your vile mother’s sin?”
+
+The delicate youth was but as a reed in his grasp. Sophie sank pale and
+helpless into a chair. Now another figure appeared upon the scene—little
+Hagar stamping and screaming, upon the floor.
+
+“Let Raymond! let my brother alone! Let him go, I say! you old Satan,
+you. I—I’ll _kill_ you—I’ll scratch your eyes out,” and clambering upon
+a chair, and then upon a table, she sprang cat-like upon the back of his
+neck. Now he was obliged to drop his hold of Raymond a moment to shake
+off the little wild-cat—he seized her, and pulling her off, hurled her
+flying through the open window! With a cry of anguish, Raymond sprang
+from the spot—from the room, and hurried around into the yard. The fall
+was not deep—the turf was soft—and the lithe, agile child had lighted on
+her feet and hands. She sprang up as Raymond came, and running to meet
+him asked anxiously,
+
+“Are you hurt? did he hurt you, Raymond?”
+
+He lifted her in his arms, and hurrying around the back way, ran up
+stairs with her.
+
+“Oh, your poor neck—only see the marks of his wicked claws on your
+pretty white neck!” exclaimed the child, and she kissed and closely
+clasped him, and wept as if her heart were broken up and gushing through
+her tears. Then raising her head with eyes flashing through her tears,
+as the lightning gleams through the rain, she said,
+
+“Oh! the bad—bad—_bad_ man! I wonder what God lets him stay here for?”
+
+“Hush—you must not ask such sinful questions.”
+
+“But I _do_ wonder—I’m sure I wouldn’t let him stay here if I could help
+it.”
+
+“You must not think such wicked thoughts,” said the youth; but he
+himself was excited and anxious, and setting Hagar down on the foot of
+her little bed said,
+
+“Now, Hagar, you must stay here—you must not come near him again
+to-day—”
+
+“I’m not afraid of him,” interrupted the child.
+
+“No, you have the fire and courage of a young tigress; but you would not
+make him angry, and so endanger Sophie’s peace, would you?”
+
+“No—he shan’t hurt Sophie; if he tries, the next time I’ll get my claws
+in his eyes and scratch them out—_right_ out! and _then_ see who he can
+hurt!”
+
+“But you are talking of my father, Hagar,” said the young man,
+reproachfully.
+
+“Oh! so I am; _that_ is the worst of it.”
+
+“Now, Hagar, promise me to stay here till I come and fetch you, will
+you?”
+
+“Yes—I will do anything in the world _you_ want me to do, Raymond, just
+see if I don’t!”
+
+“Well, then, I am going to look after Sophie, and I will be back as soon
+as I can.”
+
+He found Sophie extended in a swoon upon the floor. Withers was gone. He
+raised her and bathed her face—she revived—he set her in the deep
+arm-chair.
+
+“Hagar?” inquired she, as soon as she could speak.
+
+“Is not hurt—has neither scratch nor bruise; she is in my chamber; I
+thought it best that she should keep out of sight of my father for the
+present.”
+
+“What is to be done—where is Mr. Withers?”
+
+“I do not know where he is gone, but _you_ must seek a place of safety.”
+
+“No—no—no—I will stay here; I think I understand now why his lunacy
+takes this malignant character towards you; you remind him of—but no
+matter—but _you_, poor bereft boy, you must return immediately to your
+college—I can deal with him better alone, I am sure.”
+
+“But, Sophie, you are nervous, _unfit_ for this; the spirit indeed is
+willing, but the flesh, the _flesh_ is weak; you swooned just now—you
+have not even the firmness and courage of little Hagar.”
+
+“No, not the firmness, or the _fierceness_; but I have the courage. It
+must be as I say; you must leave here; you are too much like—poor boy, I
+did not mean to wound you, indeed I did not—you must return to your
+college, and by the time you have finished your course there, the
+absence of exciting causes, tranquillity, and sympathy will have
+restored your unfortunate father to health; then you will return and we
+shall all be happy together—courage, Raymond! God is at the helm! we
+must not forget that. He will yet guide us safely through this rough sea
+and starless night; now, Raymond, go and seek him, watch him, but keep
+out of his sight.” He left her to do her bidding.
+
+By a natural reaction the madness of Withers now assumed another aspect.
+Late in the afternoon he returned and entered not _his own_, but
+Raymond’s chamber. Sophie was in their room, and heard him come slowly
+up the stairs, enter the adjoining chamber, and throw himself upon
+Raymond’s bed. She determined to go to him, though her every nerve from
+heart to extremities was trembling and quivering. She arose and entered
+the room; the white wrapper that she wore was not whiter than her cheek,
+as she sat down by the bedside, where his long thin figure, in its black
+suit, lay extended upon the white counterpane. But what a change had
+come over him! never even in his most rational moments had she seen him
+in such a mood; his manner was subdued, the expression of his
+countenance pensive, his tones gentle. No one that had seen him in his
+ordinary manner, hard, stern, harsh, and bitter, would have recognised
+him now—alas! this mood was as unnatural to him and as much a feature in
+his lunacy as was the other of the morning; it was but the reaction of
+his phrensy. He held his hand out to her, she took it and pressed it
+between her own.
+
+“I would not go into your room, Sophie, for fear of disturbing you, and
+you come to me. Alas! and you are so pale, you tremble so much, poor
+girl, I have nearly killed you, you will give me up now!” and an
+expression of anguish convulsed his countenance.
+
+“No, no, I will not; my paleness, trembling, swooning, is a matter of
+nerves, not of will; I cannot help it, but I will not upon that account
+leave you; my flesh shrinks, but my reason does not convince me of any
+personal risk.”
+
+“And there is none to _you_, none to _you_, Sophie, believe it: in my
+maddest moments I could not hurt _you_.”
+
+At this moment, Raymond, not knowing who was in the room, entered,
+started slightly on seeing his father on the bed with Sophie sitting by
+him, but quickly recovering himself, walked up to the bed, and inquired,
+as though nothing had happened,
+
+“How are you now, sir?”
+
+“Better, calmer, my boy—but oh! Raymond, my son, why had you not kept
+out of my way? You know, you _know_ the risk you run; think if in my
+phrensy I were to do you a fatal injury, what would my after life be?
+Sophie, you see how fair and wan he is: he was more robust once, but in
+my first fit of phrensy while he was trying to save me from rushing into
+the street and exposing my madness, I dealt him a heavy blow upon the
+chest, injured his lungs, and he has never been well since.”
+
+“But he will be well,” said Sophie, as, with her eyes full of tears, she
+turned and laid her hand caressingly on Raymond’s shoulder, “he will get
+well when he has finished his studies and returns home and finds his
+father restored to health.”
+
+“But will that ever be, Sophie?” sadly inquired the unhappy man.
+
+“Oh, yes, I am sure of it,” she said. “Why, though I do not know much
+about such things, yet it appears to me so reasonable that a malady
+concealed as yours was, should increase and strengthen, instead of
+subside, and that it should darken your mind, I am not at all surprised;
+and I believe that now, relieved by communication and sympathy, it will
+gradually leave you.”
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+This mood also changed in a few hours. As the moon waned he relapsed
+into the gloom and reserve of his habitual manner. By the vigilance of
+Sophie and Raymond, little Hagar had been kept carefully out of his
+sight for some days, and now when she came into his presence, in his
+abstraction he scarcely observed her. Sophie felt uneasy as the Sabbath
+approached. From the relaxed nerves of the lately overstrained brain,
+Sophie knew that he could not prepare a sermon, and knew not what excuse
+could be made, and wondered what had been his course in former
+emergencies of this kind. She knew _not_, that during the very fervor
+and exaltation of insanity he had prepared a sermon, which when
+delivered on the next Sabbath would electrify the whole congregation
+with its soul-thrilling eloquence. That sermon was the talk of the whole
+county for weeks. This, the reader knows, is not an uncommon feature in
+the exalted stages of mania. The “Song of David,” written during a fit
+of insanity by Christopher Smart, a poet of the last century, with a
+rusty nail on the walls of his cell in the madhouse, is one of the most
+elevated and sublime strains of sacred poetry I ever read.
+
+The first of September arrived. Raymond was gone, and the disbanded
+school of Sophie Churchill, or as we must now call her Mrs. Withers,
+re-assembled. It was continued for a few months until the end of the
+year, when Sophie found that she would have to give it up. In one
+respect a healthful change had passed over Mr. Withers. The violence of
+his periodical attacks of lunacy gradually subsided, but with this
+change grew another feature—an exclusive, absorbing, and constantly
+increasing affection for his gentle young wife. This, from his
+idiosyncrasy, became daily more jealous and exacting; he could not
+endure to have her out of his sight; he grew jealous, not only of the
+child who occupied a portion of her time, but of the very _business_ by
+which at least half their income was provided.
+
+At the commencement of the Christmas holidays, Sophie broke up her
+school. Soon after this she received a severe shock in the news of the
+sudden death of her sister Rosalia and her husband, both of whom were
+carried off by a prevailing epidemic. This news was communicated by a
+letter from a lawyer of Baltimore, which letter also informed her that
+Mr. Withers and herself had been appointed guardians of the person and
+property of Rosalia Aguilar. This letter happened to come when the mind
+of Mr. Withers was in its least disturbed state, and therefore in a few
+days from its reception, Sophie left the Hall for Baltimore, with the
+purpose of bringing home the little Rosalia Aguilar, the second orphan
+niece committed to her charge.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XII.
+                                ROSALIA.
+
+           “A lovely being scarcely formed or moulded,
+           A rose with all its sweetest leaves yet folded.”
+                                                       BYRON.
+
+
+“Mind, Hagar, you must be attentive to your uncle, he is not well, my
+love, and you must do nothing to annoy him—now, will you promise me,
+Hagar?” had been the earnest injunction and question of Sophie as she
+was taking leave of little Hagar the morning of her departure for
+Baltimore. The child was silent and sulky. This argued ill.
+
+“Oh, Hagar! will you let me depart in anxiety of mind when I may never
+see you again?”
+
+Hagar was still inexorable.
+
+“Will you not be gentle and good with _Raymond’s_ father?”
+
+“Yes!” said she, raising her flashing eyes, “for Raymond’s sake.”
+
+Now it must not be inferred from this that there was unmitigated
+antagonism between the wild child and her solemn uncle-in-law, but there
+was that which was far more exasperating, a capricious and fretful
+attraction. Sometimes highly amused or deeply interested in the child’s
+strong, keen, and original genius, he would take her into great favor
+for days together, keep her always with him in his study, open to her
+hungry and greedy mind stores of food, win her affections, and then, at
+some fancied irreverence or impropriety on her part, would shake her
+from his hand as though she had been a viper, and drive her from the
+room.[3] And she would fly from the house, stung and suffering, to take
+refuge in the dark woods, among the grey rocks, or on the gravelly beach
+of the surging bay. The wild child took to the wild scenes of nature, as
+naturally as the squirrel takes to the trees, the bird to the air, or
+the fish to the water; and soon she was at home there, soon she learned
+to climb a tree with the swiftness and agility of a monkey; soon she
+learned, alone, to launch the boat, and wield the oar with a skill and
+grace that nothing but instinct could have taught, and in the very
+spirit of adventure she would make long voyages of discovery up and down
+the shores of the bay. And if a storm was brewing, if the sky was
+darkened and the thunder muttering in the distance, if danger was ahead,
+so much the more tempting and exciting was the voyage to the fearless
+child. The same spirit of adventure and inquiry would lead down a
+darksome forest-path, into the deepest dells, and most tangled thickets,
+and far away into the wildest solitudes of the wilderness; and the close
+hiss of a serpent, or the distant growl of a wolf, would only send color
+to the lips and cheeks, and light to the eyes of the girl, whose ardent
+soul panted for excitement. Do you ask where she got her fiery blood
+from? I do not know exactly, perhaps the spark was transmitted from some
+Egyptian long since. All I can tell is, that the same wild spirit of
+adventure had incited several of her ancestors from time to time to
+rebellion against church and state, had sent the founder of the American
+branch into the new country, and now occasionally broke out in a
+solitary member of the house, as in Hagar. And where was Sophie while
+her little charge roamed over river, creek, and bay, forest, moor, and
+rock, at large? Absorbed in the care of her lunatic husband, fancying
+Hagar safe at play, she remained in total ignorance of the child’s
+woodland sports and salt-water voyages.
+
+Footnote 3:
+
+  Some people who are not lunatics treat their children in a less degree
+  in the same capricious way; alternating unreasonable fondness with
+  unmerited harshness; and nothing can be more fatal to the temper and
+  character of a child.
+
+Sophie had fallen into that dangerous error so common to enthusiasts—the
+exclusive absorption in one duty, to the neglect of others. Sophie’s
+self-devotion would have been good as it seemed beautiful, had it been
+governed by _moderation_. It has been ingeniously said by Hassler that
+“from its position in the solar system, neither too close nor too far
+removed from the centre of light and heat—_moderation_ would seem to be
+the peculiar virtue appropriate to our earth”—and when one thinks of it,
+it would seem the one thing needful for a better reason than mere
+locality. Moderation is the moral gauge, the moral regulator, and should
+be president of the debating society of the passions, propensities,
+sentiments, and virtues. Moderation is to the heart what reason is to
+the head. Moderation is just precisely that hair line, erroneously said
+to be invisible, that divides the right from the wrong, good from evil,
+and virtue from vice. For see: courage is a good thing, but carried
+beyond the bounds of moderation it becomes rashness—which is a bad
+thing. Cautiousness is also good, but beyond moderation it becomes
+cowardice—which is bad. Liberality on the other side of the line of
+moderation is prodigality. Even religion, piety, which is most
+excellent, stretched beyond the line of moderation becomes fanaticism,
+superstition—which is anything but worship and honor to the Creator. I
+can quote Scripture for that, “Be not righteous over much.”
+
+Poor Sophie was “over much,” and hence her self-sacrifice was not, as it
+might have been, productive of unmingled good. To Hagar it brought much
+evil, not only by leaving her to the pursuit of her own wild pleasures,
+but in subjecting her before she could understand it to the caprices of
+an unimpaired intellect excited by a nervous and bilious temperament.
+Her sentiments towards her uncle were at the time of Sophie’s departure
+a singular and most exasperating blending of affection and anger, if not
+of positive love and hatred. He would take her into favor for weeks, and
+just as she was growing confident and easy in his affection, he would
+throw her off without a cause, and treat her with freezing coldness for
+other weeks; her first feeling would be a mixed emotion of sorrow and
+anger, and that would subside into a cold dislike, fostered by his
+unkind manner; and then just as she was getting to hate him comfortably,
+feeling quite justified in entertaining the sentiment and quite
+independent in consequence, lo and behold, some unexpected, and as it
+would seem to her, some undeserved act of kindness or tenderness would
+melt the iceberg in her bosom, and she could weep in very penitence for
+all the coldness she had felt and shown.
+
+When Sophie left the Hall, Hagar, according to her promise, tamed her
+heart of fire and gave every gentle attention to her provoking uncle,
+who was now in one of his morose fits by reason of Sophie’s absence, and
+therefore was very hard to be satisfied. A week passed away, during
+which Hagar’s short stock of patience was nearly exhausted by receiving
+in return for all her attention cold looks, short replies, and
+half-suppressed grumblings—the dark sky and muttering thunder of an
+approaching storm.
+
+Affairs were in this state at the Hall when the day of Sophie’s expected
+return arrived. The packet usually put out a little boat and landed
+passengers for the Hall upon the beach under the promontory. Early in
+the afternoon, Hagar’s falcon eye descrying a sail upon the bay, she ran
+down to the promontory, sped down the rocky declivity with the agility
+and swiftness of a kid, and stood upon the sunny beach to await its
+approach. The packet swiftly approached, stopped opposite the
+promontory, and a boat put out from her side, and was swiftly rowed to
+the beach.
+
+Hagar sprang to meet her aunt, who stepped upon the sand, leading a
+little girl of about three years of age, dressed in deep mourning. Hagar
+had sprang up into Sophie’s arms and given her a quick embrace, when the
+latter putting her down, said—“Kiss your cousin, Hagar.”
+
+“Yes, kiss me, Hagar,” said the little one, “kiss me, love me—I’ve got
+no mother.” And the large bright tears rolled down her rosy cheeks.
+Hagar caressed her as a kitten might caress a young dove, with its claws
+out. And the soft sensitive pet half evaded her wire-like clasp. “Oh!
+she is a city baby, used to be nursed by _white_ nurses, and to step her
+little soft feet upon pavements, and to play with dolls in
+dressing-rooms; she shrinks from me, whose play-grounds are the forest,
+rocks, and waters—and whose toys are bows, arrows, and guns.” And Hagar
+bent forward and gazed with her keen eyes into the face of the timid
+child as they walked side by side towards the ascent of the cliff. Here
+even Sophie’s hand afforded little assistance to the unpractised feet of
+the infant as she toiled up the steep and dangerous cliff, glancing with
+terror at the sharp projecting points of the rocks sticking up ready to
+impale her soft form if she missed her footing. Hagar gazed at the
+little frightened toiler, half in pity, half in amusement, until
+suddenly the devil leaped into the eyes of the wild child, and seizing
+her cousin, she swung her upon her shoulder, and springing from the spot
+with the bound of a kid, scarcely touching the points of the rocks with
+her light feet, she flew up the steep knobs of the cliff—while Rose
+clung to her neck in deadly terror, and Sophie raised her hands in
+awe-struck astonishment. Arrived at the top safe, she set her down,
+panting, and tenderly as she knew how soothed her alarm. But from that
+moment through all her after life, Rosalia feared and shrank from Hagar.
+
+Mr. Withers received Sophie with visible pleasure and affection; drawing
+her to his bosom and pressing a kiss upon her lips. But when he stooped
+to welcome her little charge Rosalia, he suddenly drew back, shaded his
+eyes with his hands, and gazed at her; then recovering himself, he
+welcomed the orphan with a few words of encouragement and re-assurance.
+
+After the children were in bed that night, and while Withers and Sophie
+sat by the parlor fire, he said, as if half musing, “The same intense
+blue eyes, the same golden hair, except that both are softer.” Then
+suddenly turning to Sophie, and speaking earnestly, he said—“Tell me, my
+guardian angel, is it an illusion of my wayward imagination, or does
+Rosalia resemble—resemble—?”
+
+“Raymond?” suggested Sophie, with tact.
+
+“Yes, Raymond,” he replied quickly. “You have seen it then, too?”
+
+“Yes, she _does_ resemble Raymond—but that may be from her having the
+same colored hair and eyes, and the same delicately fair skin—which she
+takes from her mother, my sister Rosalia, who was of that complexion.”
+
+“Yes—but the features, the expression, that peculiar arch of the
+delicate upper lip, that sweeping curve of the upper lids falling over
+‘eyes whose light might fix the glance of any seraph gazing not on God,’
+and the elegantly carved hand and arm, and foot—the very form and
+features of—of—” he paused and sighed deeply—“of Fanny Raymond. Yes, of
+Fanny Raymond, as I knew her when a child—except that this child has
+more softness, tenderness—more lymph, if one might use the expression.”
+
+“Why do you not tell me all about it, Mr. Withers; then you would feel
+better, then there would be freer conversation between us; no starts,
+broken sentences and misapprehensions.”
+
+“Why do you wish to pry into my secrets?” asked he angrily, and rising,
+paced the floor with moody air and a dark brow. After a while he
+returned and sat down. Sophie went and sat beside him—and obtaining
+possession of his hand caressed it as she said gently,
+
+“I do not wish to pry into your secrets, believe me I do not—I only wish
+to give you peace; after so long a time, do you not know me for your
+friend?”
+
+“Well, then, Sophie, do not exasperate me by questions of my past life;
+at some periods I have very little self-control, as you very well know.”
+
+His moroseness increased from this hour, until a day or two after his
+disease broke out in phrensy. His attack had reached its crisis, passed
+it, and declined into gloom as before. Sophie had successfully guarded
+him from public exposure. Again as before, a sermon written during the
+exalted stage of his insanity, had electrified the whole country. It
+seemed strange, but it was not unprecedented in the annals of insanity,
+that one who had well nigh lost his reason, should at some periods
+perceive the points of his subject with microscopic distinctness, and
+argue them with mathematical closeness and precision. It was less
+strange, that into this perfect body of logic, his burning imagination
+should cast a soul of eloquence, fire, and life. His fame was spread all
+through the neighboring counties, and crowds flocked to hear him preach.
+Could they at some seasons have seen his heart, or even entered his
+home! And yet they knew as much, and judged as correctly of him, as many
+of us know and judge of some around and near us every day. Still he
+accomplished much good. Sophie felt this, and took heart amid her
+troubles. Truth, pure _truth_, loses none of its force and point by any
+mode of conveyance through which it reaches its object. Truth diluted
+with falsehood, comes weak and faint through any medium.
+
+It would be vain to try to give you any fair idea of the winning beauty
+and gentle grace of the little Rosalia Aguilar, whom but to look upon
+was to love. She soon became the favorite of the whole house, from its
+solemn master down to old Cumbo in the kitchen. Hagar loved her at
+first, and tried to teach her to make and use little bows and arrows,
+and to coax her off to her forest haunts, or out on the bay; but when,
+after her repeated efforts, she found the gentle and timorous child
+still shrank from her offers of entertainment, she left her alone—and
+afterwards, when she felt that the loving little beauty was winning from
+her the little hold she had upon the affections of the household, her
+heart became bitter, and the jealous trait in her character grew and
+strengthened. More than ever she took to the desolate scenes about her
+native hall. She made wider excursions upon the bay, and deeper inroads
+into the forest—in the wild wantonness of her nature she would scale the
+most difficult rocks, and skim along the very edge of the most fearful
+precipices, or climb the tallest trees, and letting herself out upon the
+frailest branches, rock up and down between earth and sky, delighted to
+tamper with danger; or if the branch beneath her broke, save herself,
+monkey-like, by an agile spring and catch at the nearest bough. Thus the
+keen perceptive faculties of the child were only employed in perfecting
+her animal strength and agility. And Sophie? had Sophie quite abandoned
+her? No; but occupied with her unhappy and exacting husband, and with
+her younger and more helpless niece, Sophie seeing Hagar always well,
+left her very much to herself. And indeed the wild child was always
+rather beyond the control of her gentle relatives. Thus passed the
+winter.
+
+The close intimacy that had subsisted between the little families of
+Heath Hall and Grove Cottage, had been considerably interrupted since
+the marriage of Sophie. She wished to preserve the secret of her
+husband, and therefore rather discouraged the continuance of the
+hitherto almost daily intercourse between the families. Emily also felt
+an aversion to the minister that had an influence in severing the close
+intimacy of the friends. And Augustus, too, being in daily attendance
+upon a school three miles in the opposite direction, found little chance
+to visit his old playmate Hagar. Emily, however, though her visits were
+few and far between, still felt in all its devotion her warm affection
+for Sophie. Other neighbors, mere acquaintances, came occasionally to
+the Hall, and sometimes spent a day there, or a day and night after the
+manner of country neighborhood visiting, but from these careless and
+uninterested observers Sophie succeeded in keeping her misfortune
+secret. The two children were objects of considerable attention from
+these visitors, and the striking contrast of their persons, manners, and
+characters, noted and commented upon, _in their presence_. The winning
+beauty and sweet confiding sociability of the fair cherub, and the wild
+shy reserve of the dark child, were compared, and sagely commented
+upon—and conclusions very disparaging to Hagar, drawn by these
+superficial critics who did not understand her. Indeed the contrast
+between these two children was so striking, that they were never passed
+by strangers or servants without some such remark as this—“Rosalia is
+beautiful, lovely—but that other child is _very_ homely.” It is very
+wrong to make remarks on the personal beauty or ugliness of children in
+their hearing. The effect is invariably injurious. It is highly
+reprehensible to draw _invidious comparisons_ between the beauty of
+children, especially before their faces. This thoughtlessness is fraught
+with the direst consequences. When you say so carelessly in their
+presence, that “Anne is prettier than Jane,” and look at Anne as though
+her accidental beauty were a virtue, and look at Jane as though she were
+in fault—think that into the fertile soil of the children’s hearts you
+have dropped the seeds of evil—the seed of vanity in the heart of Anne,
+the seed of envy into that of Jane, and the germ of discord into both.
+Upon Rosalia and Hagar these thoughtless remarks were producing the
+worst effects. Rosalia, loved, petted and praised, by the family, the
+servants and visitors, with all her gentleness and sweetness, was
+growing vain, selfish, and sensual—and loved best of all things to lie
+in some old lady’s soft lap and suck sugarplums, while the said old lady
+caressed and praised her. And she was a most endearing child; unlike
+other spoiled and petted children, she never gave way to temper—she was
+much too gentle for that. She was penetrable, sensitive, not high
+spirited. Sometimes in his wilful moods Mr. Withers would repulse her,
+though never with the asperity with which he drove Hagar from his
+presence; and she would weep, and come back, and coax and caress him
+until the madman, subdued by the power of love, would take her to his
+bosom—where nestling herself cosily, she would fall into the deep
+sleep—the reaction of her excitement; while his own stormy soul,
+mesmerized, would subside into calmness. And daily his love for her and
+his aversion to Hagar increased. Upon Hagar, too, these influences were
+producing the worst effects. Jealousy and suspicion of the few she
+loved, scorn and contempt for the opinions of others—neglect of her
+person as little worth attention, and a morbid desire to be loved
+exclusively—these were some of the evil fruits of her mal-education.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XIII.
+                               THE ATTIC.
+
+    “An old joy of childhood and youth, a cat-like love of garrets.”
+                            EMERSON.
+
+
+One more circumstance, patient reader, and I have done tiring you with
+the squabbles of children. It was one that more particularly introduced
+Hagar to the notice of Mrs. May, and saved her from degenerating quite
+into a savage. It occurred some time after the events recorded in the
+last chapter. But just let me briefly sum up the history of the
+intervening time. The disease of Mr. Withers had changed in these
+respects—he was no longer subject to violent outbreaks; but his malady,
+wanting that vent, had only deepened into gloom and moroseness. He had
+lost his eloquence and power in the pulpit to that degree, that a curate
+had to be appointed to assist him, and his pay deducted from the
+minister’s small salary. This curate boarded with Emily. The farm, only
+partly reclaimed, had been suffered to relapse into desolation. The
+income arising from Sophie’s school had been, of course, cut off at its
+discontinuance; and the family at Heath Hall found themselves in
+straitened circumstances. This was felt more heavily, as the continued
+exactions of Mr. Withers upon the time and attention of his gentle and
+complying wife, left her little opportunity for those economies and
+contrivances by which a thrifty housekeeper makes the most of a narrow
+income. Raymond had not once visited the Hall, though he frequently
+wrote. Emily May, repulsed by what she supposed the coldness of Sophie,
+altogether absented herself.
+
+Gusty was absent on a voyage with his uncle, Lieutenant Wilde, who had
+made one visit to Grove Cottage, but without calling upon or even
+inquiring after Sophie.
+
+It was just before the expected return of Gusty, near the close of the
+winter, when Hagar was driven in from her rambles by the arising of a
+furious storm. She betook herself to the garret, her place of refuge in
+times of trouble. Poor little Rose, repulsed by the gloom and ill-temper
+of “uncle,” had already hidden herself there; and the children sat
+before the fireless hearth—the desolate children in the desolate scene.
+It was a large, low, square room, with two deep dormer windows facing
+the east, and looking far out upon the bay—with a dark cuddie under the
+eaves of the western wall—with a rude fire-place on the south, and
+opposite on the north, the door leading from the room into the narrow
+passage and down the stairs. The walls were very dark, and the
+plastering broken here and there. Between the two dormer windows, and
+close to the floor, was a large crevice in the wall, through which you
+might look into the long dark space between the wall and the edge of the
+roof, a space corresponding to the cuddie on the opposite side. Strange
+sounds were sometimes heard in this place, and through the crevice.
+Hagar, that child of shadows, would look with mysterious awe—for with
+its boundaries lost in obscurity, to her it seemed a dark profound
+sinking through the house down to the centre of the earth, while her
+imagination loved to people it with ghosts, gnomes, and all the
+subterranean demons she had read of in her favorite book, the Arabian
+Nights. “Listen! listen to the spirits,” she would sometimes whisper in
+wantonness to her little cousin.
+
+“I hear nothing but the rats in the cuddie,” would the matter of fact
+Rose reply. The floor of the attic was bare, the planks rude and rough,
+and worn apart in some places, leaving dark apertures, down which Hagar
+would look as into an interminable abyss, the haunt of her favorite
+gnomes. There was no furniture in this room except an old trunk without
+a top, that sometimes served Rosalia for a baby-house, and sometimes
+reversed, for a seat. Upon this trunk the children were now seated. The
+storm still raged around the old house-top—the shingles were reft off,
+whirled aloft, and sent clattering like hail-stones to the ground; the
+wind howled and shrieked about the walls, and the old windows and
+rafters writhed and groaned in the blast, like the wail of lost souls,
+and the laugh of exultant fiends. The rain was dashed in floods against
+the crazy windows, and the children sprinkled through their crevices.
+The water began to stream from the leakages in the ceiling, and to
+collect in puddles in the corners of the room. These puddles enlarging
+and approaching each other, threatened to overflow the floor. The
+children drew their trunk upon the fireless hearth. Rose’s little chubby
+arms and legs were red with cold.
+
+“Oh! how the wind’s a-blowing. I am almost frozen,” wept Rose. And they
+were. “Let’s go into the parlor,” suggested Rose.
+
+Hagar looked at her with astonishment, that she should propose to “beard
+the lion” in his present mood.
+
+“Yes, into the parlor,” persisted the child. “I’ll bet you anything that
+uncle will let us stay in the parlor this evening, and warm ourselves at
+the fire; it is so very cold, you know.”
+
+“Well! it is _my_ house, anyhow, and so for your sake, Rose, we _will_
+go down.”
+
+And hand in hand the shivering children left the attic, passed down four
+flights of back stairs, and went to the parlor door, and Rosalia peeped
+timidly in. It was the same old parlor, papered with the Christian
+martyrs that I have before described; and there sat the tall thin figure
+of Mr. Withers, dark, solemn, and lowering; and opposite sat Sophie,
+with her soft brown eyes bent over her knitting. And, oh! sight of
+luxury to the half-frozen child,—there was a glorious, glowing hickory
+fire, crackling, blazing, and roaring in the chimney. The children
+opened the door and passed in, carefully closing it after them; they
+approached the fire, Hagar with an air of defiance, Rose with a look of
+deprecation. Sophie looked at the children with remorseful tenderness,
+and made room for them, unluckily, between herself and Withers, thereby
+attracting his attention. He turned, and knitting his brows until they
+met across his nose, and fixing his eyes sternly on the children, he
+asked, in a rough tone—
+
+“What are you doing here?”
+
+“Warming ourselves!” exclaimed Hagar, raising her eyes, flashing, to his
+face.
+
+He frowned darkly on her, and half started from his seat, while Rose
+cowered at her side, and Sophie grew pale.
+
+“Be off with yourselves,” he said, in a stern under tone.
+
+Hagar planted her feet firmly on the ground, while Rosalia slunk away.
+Sophie arose, and saying, in a low tone, “Take Rose to the kitchen fire,
+dear Hagar,” prepared to follow them.
+
+“Come back, Sophie!” exclaimed Withers, in an excited tone. And she sat
+down with a patient, despairing look, merely motioning to Hagar by an
+imploring gesture, to leave the room.
+
+“Well! let’s go into the kitchen and warm ourselves at Aunt Cumbo’s
+fire,” suggested the ever hopeful Rosalia.
+
+They left the parlor by a back door that led through a sort of closet
+into the kitchen. The storm was still raging, but a good fire was
+burning on the kitchen hearth, and the tea-kettle was singing over the
+blaze, and old Cumbo was standing at a table kneading dough.
+
+“Are you going to have biscuits for supper, Aunt Cumbo?” asked Rosalia,
+in a coaxing tone, as she approached the table.
+
+“Now, what you comin’ out here botherin’ arter me for, when I am gettin’
+supper—go ’long in de house wid you.”
+
+The old woman happened to be in a bad humor.
+
+“But, Aunt Cumbo, we are cold—we want to warm ourselves,” coaxed Rose.
+“Mayn’t we warm ourselves by your fire?”
+
+“No, no, no! kitchen ain’t no place for white children, no how you can
+fix it, so go ’long in wid you.” And the rough old woman came bustling
+up to the fire-place, drove the little girls away, and began to set her
+spider and spider lid to heat.
+
+“No; this _is_ no place for us,” said Hagar, who disdained a controversy
+with a menial; and the children left the passage.
+
+Rosalia’s teeth were chattering, and she felt as though the cold had
+reached her heart.
+
+“I wish that we were both dead, Hagar,” said she, in a whimpering tone.
+
+“I don’t,” said Hagar, looking half in pity, half in scorn, at the
+wailing child. “Nor must you. You must live. You are to marry the
+President of the United States, you know.”
+
+“Oh, yes!” exclaimed the vain child, suddenly brightening up, “so I am!
+Cumbo, when she ain’t cross, says I’m pretty enough to marry him or his
+betters! And then, Hagar! oh, Hagar! then I am going to have a good fire
+all the time, in every room in the house; and I will wear _whole_ shoes
+and stockings _every_ day, and _always_ have biscuits for supper.
+And—never mind, Hagar, you shall live with me, too; and when I think of
+that, oh, Hagar! When I think of that, I have such a—such a—what do you
+call it, that keeps people up, and keeps ’em alive?”
+
+“Hope.”
+
+“Yes! ‘never give up.’ You know Gusty Wilde says ‘never give up,’ and I
+am agoing to ‘never give up.’ I am going down into the cellar, now, to
+pick up chips. Tarquins has been down there sawing wood, and I know
+there must be chips there; and we can pick up enough to make us a fire,
+and we can make a nice fire and tell stories.”
+
+And with the elasticity of childhood she led the way down to the cellar.
+It was a large, dark, musty old place, with an area partitioned off, in
+which milk, butter, fresh meat, &c., were kept in summer; in winter it
+was usually two feet deep in water; now, however, it was nearly dry. It
+was originally intended for a kitchen, and was built in the
+old-fashioned English style, with a large grate in the fire-place, with
+ovens each side, having heavy iron doors. These deep ovens, the bounds
+of which were out of sight in the darkness, seemed to Hagar like the
+entrances to subterranean caverns, the abode of ghosts. To Rose they
+were merely brick closets, that smelt very musty and unpleasant. The
+brick pavement of the cellar was decayed away, and green with mould. It
+was, however, a favorite resort with the children, for there they were
+free from persecution. They entered, and Rosalia began to fill her apron
+with chips, when Hagar spied an old worn-out flag basket, and drew it
+towards them. They both went to work, and soon filled the little basket,
+and Rosalia, taking it up in her chubby arms, began to toil up stairs
+with it. Hagar would have taken it from—but “No, Hagar,” said she, “I am
+afraid to go into the kitchen again. I’ll carry this, and _you_ go and
+steal a coal of fire, and bring the broom, so that we can sweep up the
+slop.”
+
+Hagar went into the kitchen, which she found vacant. Cumbo had gone to
+the spring. Taking a coal of fire in the tongs, and seizing the broom,
+she fled up stairs into the attic, where little Rose was already busied
+in clearing the damp rubbish from the fire-place. She received the coal
+from Hagar, and kneeling down, placed it on the hearth, collected around
+it the smallest chips, and blew it. A little blaze soon flickered on the
+hearth. She continued to add more chips as the weak flame would bear it.
+In the meantime Hagar had swept up the room. The storm had subsided. The
+little fire was burning cheeringly. The children drew the old trunk
+before it, and sat down, their arms around each other’s waist; their
+little toes stretched out to the fire; their countenances wearing that
+satisfied consciousness of having toiled for and won the comforts they
+were enjoying. And after all, it was but a little fire in a dreary old
+attic. They were not permitted to enjoy this long. Steps were heard
+approaching their retreat. The door opened, and Tar, or as he called
+himself, Tarquinius Superbus—the colored boy of all work—entered. Rose
+ran to her basket of chips, and placed herself before it.
+
+“What you dem do wid dat broom you stole from de kitchen, you little
+thieves, you? Nex’ time you gim me trouble for come up here arter you
+dem’s nonsense, I tell Mrs. Widders, an’ ef dat don’t do I tell _Mr._
+Widders—_you_ see!”
+
+With that he espied the broom, and in going around to take it, his eyes
+fell upon the little fire, and the small basket of chips. Poor Rose
+looked guilty and dismayed, but held desperately on to her property.
+Hagar watched him with a steady eye.
+
+“My good gracious ‘live—did any _soul_ ever see de like? What _will_ Mr.
+Widders say? A-wastin’ all de wood! Here’s chips enough to kindle all de
+fires in de mornin’.”
+
+And with a perspective glance at his morning’s work, when the basket of
+chips would be very convenient, the rude boy stooped down to take
+possession of the prize. Rosalia held tight her treasure. He jerked it
+from her, and in doing so, tore her little tender arms with the rough
+flags of the old basket. Having lost his temper in the struggle, the boy
+then went to the chimney, and taking the tongs, scattered the blazing
+chips, and raking the damp rubbish from the corners, extinguished the
+fire. Then with his prize he marched out of the room. Rose was sobbing
+and wiping the blood from her wounded arm. Hagar was still and silent,
+but the fire was kindling in her dark eyes; her gipsy blood was rising;
+at last she started after him, overtook him half way down the stairs,
+and seized the basket; he pulled it from her hold and fled, she pursuing
+him into the kitchen. To end the matter, he went up to the chimney,
+turned up the basket, and shook down the chips into the fire. Her gipsy
+blood was up! She ran to him as he was stooping over his work of wanton
+cruelty, and giving him a sudden push, sent him into the fire. The
+basket was crushed under his hands, and saved them from being badly
+burnt. He struggled, recovered himself, and arose. Just at this moment
+Cumbo re-entered the kitchen, and Rosalia, who had followed her cousin,
+came in.
+
+“What’s de matter now?” inquired the old woman.
+
+Hagar was too proud and Rosalia too frightened to speak.
+
+Tar gave an exaggerated account of the whole affair, as he brushed the
+smut and ashes from his sleeves. He dwelt particularly on the _waste_
+with which “de childer had burned up all de light wood for kindlin’.”
+
+Cumbo turned up the whites of her eyes in horror at the depredation.
+
+“It was only a few little chips that we picked up, and they were damp;
+and see how he scratched my arms!” said Rosalia, holding them up to
+view.
+
+Cumbo having sent in supper, felt herself in a better humor; and thought
+herself prepared to render judgment with marvellous impartiality and
+wisdom, which, seating herself, and resting her hands on her knees, she
+did to the following effect:
+
+“Tarquinus Perbus, you go right in house an’ wait on table. Massa
+Widders, he callin’ for you. An’ Rose, you putty little angel, you come
+here an’ sit on old mammy’s lap, and toast your poor little footy toes
+before dis nice fire; mammy’s got a warm biscuit for you in her bosom,
+too. An’ Hagar, you ugly, bad ting, go long right trait out dis here
+kitchen wid yourself. You’re so bad I can’t a-bear you—but ugly people
+always _is_ bad.”
+
+Now, if she had said bad people always are ugly, she might have come
+nearer the truth, or at least taught a better lesson.
+
+“I did not make myself, God made me,” said Hagar.
+
+“He didn’t! he never made anything half so ugly and bad! De debil made
+you. _He_ made my beautiful, lovely, good little Rose. Some ob dese days
+she shall be de Presiden’s wife, and _you_—you shall be her waitin’
+maid, cause nobody’s ever gwine to marry _you_—you’re too ugly and
+hateful. Go long straight out dis here kitchen now, I don’t want nuffin
+’tall to do wid you.”
+
+Hagar left the kitchen, casting back a look of inquiry at Rosalia; but
+the little girl was petted, coaxed, flattered, and tempted by the warm
+fire, and the prospect of the nice biscuit, and preferred to keep her
+seat.
+
+Hagar took her lonely way up the four flights of stairs that led to the
+attic. Arrived there she sat down moodily upon the trunk, resting her
+elbows upon her knees, and holding her thin face between the palms of
+her hands; her black elf locks were hanging wildly about her shoulders,
+and her eyes were wide open, and fixed upon the floor in a stare. She
+was bitterly reflecting that with a really kind-hearted aunt she was
+suffering all the evils of orphanage, abused by menials, pinched with
+hunger, and half frozen with cold. She was wondering, too, how it was
+that the good God had made her so ugly that she could not be loved, and
+therefore could not be good. Poor child, she never dreamed of general
+admiration, she only wished to be loved; and she had no one to tell her
+that the beauty which wins permanent affection is the beauty of
+goodness; that goodness will soften the hardest, and intellect light up
+the dullest features; that though physical beauty may excite passion,
+and intellect attract admiration, only goodness can win everlasting
+love. Within the last few months, such scenes as I have described were
+constantly occurring, and their evil influence fell on all the
+children’s after life. Some of the most serious defects in their
+characters, some of the most deplorable errors in their conduct, and the
+most dreadful misfortune of their lives, might be traced back to the
+injudicious, careless remarks of visitors, and the capricious blame or
+praise of servants, to whose care or neglect they were so much left.
+When I recollect the strong and decided bias given in childhood to my
+own character by people and circumstances over which I had no sort of
+control, and against whose evil influence I could make no sort of
+resistance; when I suffer by the effect of impressions received in
+infancy, which neither time, reason, nor religion have been able to
+efface—which only sorrow could impair by bruising the tablet; knowing as
+I know the tender impressibility of infancy, feeling as I feel the
+indelibility of such impressions, I tremble for the unseen influences
+that may surround my own young children—aye, even for the chance word
+dropped by stranger lips, and heard by infant ears; for that word may be
+a fruitful seed that shall spring up into a healthful vine, or a upas
+tree, twenty years after it is sown. Infancy is a fair page upon which
+you may write—goodness, happiness, heaven, or—sin, misery, hell. And the
+words once written, no chemical art can erase them. The substance of the
+paper itself must be rubbed through by the file of suffering before the
+writing can be effaced. Infancy is the soft metal in the moulder’s
+hands; he may shape it in the image of a fiend, or the form of an
+angel—and when finished, the statue hardens into rock, which nothing but
+the hammer of God’s providence can break; nothing but the fire of God’s
+providence can melt for re-moulding.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XIV.
+                                 GUSTY.
+
+         “Thine was the shout! the song! the burst of joy!
+           Which sweet from childhood’s rosy lips resoundeth,
+         Thine was the eager spirit naught could cloy,
+           And the glad heart from which all grief reboundeth.”
+                                             MRS. NORTON
+
+
+There she sat motionless. The only sounds were the beating of the rain
+against the windows, and the racing of the rats through the cuddies. At
+last the noise of footsteps tearing up the stairs, and a voice shouting
+a sea-song startled the wild girl—she looked up just as Gusty Wilde
+burst into the room, and running up to her, caught her around the neck,
+and gave her a boisterous salute, exclaiming breathlessly,
+
+“I just got home last night, Hagar! and have been wanting to run over
+and see you so much, but mother detained me this morning, and I
+couldn’t, but you see as soon as the storm subsided a little I ran over
+here, ’specially as mother gives me a tea-party this evening in honor of
+my coming home. She has baked a plum cake, and I have brought you home a
+monkey; so, Hagar, you must return with me. I came on purpose to fetch
+you; _you_ won’t be afraid to cross the swollen river.”
+
+He was a fine, noble looking boy, stoutly built, with a full face, rosy
+complexion, clear merry blue eyes, and an abundance of soft yellow curls
+clustering thick around a brow of almost feminine whiteness. He wore a
+sailor’s blue jacket, white trousers, and tarpaulin hat. He looked at
+Hagar for her answer. Observing now for the first time the girl’s
+disconsolate air, he sat down beside her, pulled off his tarpaulin hat,
+and placing it between his knees, put his arm quietly around the neck of
+the child, and kissing her dark brow gently, inquired,
+
+“Hagar, what is the matter?”
+
+She did not reply, but remained in her first posture with her elbows on
+her knees, her chin propped up by her hands, and her black elf locks
+streaming down each side of her face. He gently put her hair back from
+her face, and tucking it behind her ears, asked kindly,
+
+“Where is Rosalia, Hagar, and why are you up here in this cold, damp
+room alone?”
+
+“How did you know that I was here?”
+
+“I met Tarquinius in the entry as I came in the house, and inquiring for
+you the first one, he told me you were here—then I ran in, upset Father
+Withers in my haste, kissed Sophie, and breaking away ran up here to
+find you. But where is Rosalia? I expected to find her with you?”
+
+“Rosalia is in old Cumbo’s lap warming herself before the kitchen fire,
+and eating biscuits—and I—am I not always alone—when storms and floods
+drive me to the house; but _they_,” added she, “shall not send me in
+again; the wild beasts bear their raging, and so will I.”
+
+“Why don’t you stay in the parlor?”
+
+“In the parlor?” laughed the girl, bitterly; “Mr. Withers’s mastiffs and
+bulldogs stay in the parlor, the old tabby cat reposes on the rug before
+the parlor fire, and Aunt Sophie’s pet rabbit has its cushion in the
+corner, but I, I am a parlor ornament, ain’t I?”
+
+“Oh! Hagar, don’t do so! it is so very ugly in a little girl to act that
+way, laughing and jibing and jeering with so much scorn and bitterness.
+Now tell me why you are banished from the parlor, if you _are_
+banished.”
+
+“Look at me! this is the best suit of clothes I have in the world; do
+you think Mr. Withers is going to let me stay in the parlor looking like
+_this_, strict as _he_ is?”
+
+Gusty glanced down at her torn and rusty calico dress—and at her, and at
+her little feet protruding through her old stockings and shoes. Then he
+said seriously, as he looked at her,
+
+“Lord, Hagar, I don’t know now how I shall take you in that trim. But
+why, child, did you not stay at the kitchen fire with Rose? That would
+have been far more comfortable than this wet, cold garret.”
+
+“I was driven from the kitchen, Gusty—driven from the kitchen because I
+paid Tarquin well for hurting Rosalia—and only think, Gusty, _just_
+think, Rosalia, who should have stuck to me, remained with the old woman
+who drove me off for protecting _her_,” and the girl turned her eyes
+flashing with scorn and bitterness towards the boy, who remarked—
+
+“Rose did that, Hagar? It was not like Rose to do that. I shall not love
+Rose if she becomes mean and selfish; but it can’t be so; something
+remains to be explained.”
+
+“Oh, yes,” laughed the wild child, “something remains to be
+explained—she was hungry and cold—and Cumbo offered to feed and warm
+her.”
+
+How unusual and how frightful is a sneer on a child’s countenance, and
+oh! what a tale of perverted nature it tells! After a while her
+countenance relapsed into its serious cast, and she said,
+
+“Since you left, Gusty, I have been quite alone; everybody has fallen
+away from me and gone to Rosalia. Every one dislikes or forgets me, and
+every one loves Rosalia.”
+
+“I have not fallen away from you, Hagar.”
+
+“No dear Gusty, _you_ have not—perhaps you _will_, though, when you see
+more of Rose—” added she, sadly and doubtingly.
+
+There was springing in her bosom the germ of that doubt of all things
+and all persons that in after life became a distinguishing and fatal
+trait in her character. Children are born with trust. The confidingness
+of childhood is proverbial, but like all other childish instincts, it is
+young and delicate, and easily crushed to death. Children _feel_ before
+they can _reason_, and the impressions of childhood being well nigh
+ineffaceable, the deceived and betrayed child is often parent to the
+sceptical and scoffing man or woman.
+
+“I will _never_ fall away from you, Hagar, nor can I see how Rosalia can
+draw me away. Can’t I love you _both_? And now, little Hagar, you must
+let me comb your hair and take you over to mother’s to tea. I should
+like to take Rose, too, but she is too tender to brave the weather this
+evening.”
+
+And in all simplicity he took from his pocket a little comb, and began
+to comb out Hagar’s elf locks. With wondrous skill he smoothed and
+arranged her long hair into a simple knot behind her head, and passing
+his hands two or three times over the surface of her hair, said
+cheerfully,
+
+“There, now, you little thing, why don’t you take pains with yourself?
+You look so much prettier, now that your hair is shining like blue-black
+satin, so that I can see my face in it. And, oh, Hagar! how I wish that
+they would let you come and live with my mother; mother wants a little
+girl so much, especially if I get my midshipman’s warrant and go to sea
+again. Oh, if you were only with mother, how good and happy she would
+make you—and you would grow pretty, too, for good girls always grow
+pretty. There, you are smiling! do you happen to know that you have the
+most beautiful smile in the world, Hagar?”
+
+“I know that Rosalia has, for everybody says so.”
+
+“Yes, Rose has a sweet, soft smile, like summer sunbeams on flowers;
+pretty enough, and common enough; but _your_ smile, Hagar—I’ll tell you
+what your smile is like. I have been at sea, near a wild coast full of
+frightful breakers, shelving rocks, dark cliffs, and murky caverns, with
+a stormy sea, a blackened sky, the whole landscape dark, gloomy, and
+terrible, until suddenly out breaks the sun, lighting up the scene which
+then becomes wild, grand, sublime! Such is your face, and such your
+smile, Hagar. I gaze breathless at the wild beauty of both.”
+
+Just at this moment, into the room broke Rosalia, and running up to
+Hagar threw her arms about her neck, exclaiming, breathlessly, while she
+thrust a biscuit into her hands,
+
+“Here, here, Hagar! I only just waited till she gave me the biscuit she
+promised, and then I came away and brought it to you! Here, here, take
+it, Hagar! I ain’t hungry—no, not a bit.”
+
+Thus would the sweet child’s native goodness sometimes break through the
+shell of selfishness that was crusting over it. Hagar, with one of her
+quick revulsions of feeling, burst into tears, and pressed the little
+one to her bosom, and Gusty, snatching her up in his arms, gleefully
+exclaimed while he ran around the room with her,
+
+“There, there, there! Hurrah! I knew it. I could have sworn my soul away
+upon the soundness of my little Rosebud! I knew there was not a really
+selfish drop of blood in little Rose’s tender heart!”
+
+Then returning and setting her down, he said, “Come, the rain has quite
+ceased, the sun is setting in golden glory, mother’s cake is done, and
+her tea is ready, and she is waiting for me, I know. Come, Rose shall
+go, too. I will carry her in my arms. And Hagar, you little savage, you
+can trip on before, and when I have got you both safe at the cottage, I
+can send word to Sophie, and keep you all night.” So saying he led the
+children from the attic.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+Emily May was seated in the sober glory of her neat parlor, awaiting the
+return of Gusty. The round tea-table was covered with a white damask
+cloth, and graced by a little silver tea service. The plum cake stood in
+the centre. It was with surprise and pain that she received the
+children. Ignorant of the cause of Sophie’s neglect of them, she blamed
+her in her heart for it, and determined upon the next day to ride over,
+and use an old friend’s privilege of speaking to her upon the subject.
+The next day that visit was made, and Emily saw the wasted, sorrowing,
+patient look of her friend, the truth was partly guessed, and she
+proposed to take the children, and especially Hagar, under her own
+surveillance. To this proposition, Sophie tearfully and gratefully
+acceded. Encouraged by having gained this point, and incited by her love
+of children, she went a step further and proposed that both the children
+should be sent to the cottage as pupils, and share with Gusty the
+instructions of the young curate, her boarder. This plan was submitted
+to the decision of Mr. Withers, and having received his acquiescence,
+was immediately carried into effect. Soon the most favorable change was
+apparent in the children. Rosalia’s beauty bloomed like her type, the
+rose, refreshed by showers and sunbeams. Hagar’s black hair no longer
+hung rusty with exposure, in tangled elf locks over her shoulders, but
+was banded in satin-like folds. Their characters also seemed to undergo
+modification. Hagar retained all her individuality, her brave, free,
+wild spirit, her rather amazonian tastes, but lost the harshness and
+bitterness that made no part of it. Rosalia retained all her delicacy,
+her tenderness, yes, and sensuality, but lost the selfishness not native
+to her gentle character, or at least these things _seemed_ so. The evils
+growing in the children’s hearts were _cut down_; whether they were
+_uprooted_ or not is doubtful. Seeds of evil once taking root in
+children’s hearts are almost ineradicable. Years pass away.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+There are times when the current of existence frets and boils along the
+rocky channel of anxiety, among the rugged crags of care, grief, and
+wrong; there are times when it dashes thundering over the precipice of
+some awful crime or calamity—times when it stagnates in the fœtid
+marshes of indolence and despair—times when it winds on between the
+verdant banks of peace and amid the blooming isles of pleasure—and times
+when, scarce marked by ragged crag or verdant isle, it flows on without
+joy or sorrow, straight towards the ocean of eternity. Even thus calmly
+flowed the lifestream of Sophie. Relieved from gnawing anxiety upon the
+children’s account, she was able to give a more cheerful attention to
+her husband, and soon the more happy effects were apparent. The gloom
+into which he had fallen was dissipated by the sunshine of her smiles.
+She now became conscious of a calm, pure, and holy affection for him,
+such as angels may be supposed to feel for sorrowing man—such as we feel
+for objects we have nursed and cherished. This sentiment deepened into
+tenderness as she saw—what she could not fail to see—that as the rays of
+intellect emanated clearer and clearer from his brain, they but served
+to reveal the blackness of the shadow of death gathering thick and
+thicker around him. And it was beautiful yet sorrowful to see how as the
+sun of reason shone forth, all those clouds and fogs of selfishness and
+suspicion vanished from his mind. This is not strange or even unusual in
+the history of mental disease. It is a well known fact that insanity
+frequently entirely reverses the natural character; thus, under its
+influence the disinterested grow selfish and exacting, while the selfish
+become generous, the timid bold, and the bold timid, and most frequently
+the gentle and sensitive grow harsh and violent. His gloom softened into
+sadness, into seriousness, into resignation, which soon brightened into
+gentle cheerfulness, which but one thing in the world could ruffle, the
+sight of Rosalia Aguilar; then indeed the tide of memory, laden with
+bitterness, would flow over his soul filling it with sorrow. Upon this
+account Rosalia became a permanent inmate of Grove Cottage; while Hagar,
+no longer repulsed by the caprices of his disease, became his most
+assiduous, and next to Sophie his best beloved nurse and companion. Thus
+they “brightened the links of love, of sympathy;” _and this returning
+confidence and affection of her uncle, gave Hagar the antidote for the
+poison of her soul_. Thenceforth in Hagar’s vision “anger, hatred, and
+malice, and all uncharitableness,” were greater or less degrees of moral
+insanity.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XV.
+                               THE MOOR.
+
+           “—October, heaven’s delicious breath,
+           When woods begin to wear the crimson leaf,
+           And suns grow meek, and the meek sun grows brief,
+           And the year smiles as drawing near its death.”
+                                               BRYANT.
+
+
+It was near the close of a day late in the month of October. The level
+rays of the setting sun glanced across the green waters of the bay,
+tinting their rippling waves with emerald and jet—across the brown waste
+of the heath, mottling its rugged surface with gold and bronze upon the
+decayed edifice of the old Hall, painting its rusty walls in strongly
+contrasted colors of red and black, while its tall windows flashed back
+in lines of shining light the dazzling beams—and upon the distant forest
+whose variegated foliage reflected in topaz and in ruby light the day’s
+declining glory. It was a still, refulgent scene, the good night smile
+of nature. Presently the still life of the landscape was enlivened by
+two equestrian figures, descending the slope of the heath from the Hall,
+while their shadows stretched lengthening behind them over the dry and
+burnished turf. The figure on the right hand side was that of a youth of
+some eighteen years, clad in the undress uniform of a midshipman—whom on
+near view we recognise as our old acquaintance, Gusty Wilde May. By his
+side rode a beautiful girl of about fourteen years of age, in a graceful
+riding habit of blue cloth. She was rather full formed, very fair, with
+deep blue eyes, and wavy hair of pale gold floating about a forehead of
+transparent whiteness, with a soft, gentle manner, and a pleading air in
+the curve of her rosy lips and the downward sweep of her snowy eyelids.
+
+The youth and the maiden each rode a bay horse. They—the youth and
+maiden—not the bay horses—were conversing in a low tone as they ambled
+over the heath—
+
+“And this is all that has occurred during my long absence of three
+years.”
+
+“All, Augustus.”
+
+“Rosalia, what do you suppose were my emotions as I sailed down the bay
+this morning towards Churchill Point?”
+
+“Oh, I suppose your heart was full of happiness!”
+
+“No—every mile added more anxiety to the weight oppressing my heart as I
+drew near home, reflecting on the many and dreadful changes that might
+have passed over those I loved in these long three years, and _now_ I am
+happy, for, thank God,” said he, raising his cap reverently, “nothing
+but agreeable changes have passed over Grove Cottage and its inmates. I
+find you the sweetest little turtle-dove that ever folded its wings in a
+nest, domesticated with my mother, and forming a large portion of her
+happiness. I find my dear mother at thirty-five looking young and fresh
+as Hebe—and about—I am very much inclined to think—_tell_ me, Rosalia,
+_is_ my mother going to be married to Mr. Buncombe?”
+
+“I think so, Augustus—does that disturb you?”
+
+“Yes, Rosalia, it disturbs me—with _joy_! Dear mother—how devoted she
+has been to us, Rosalia! And now that we are all grown up, and do not
+need her constant care, and now that it may naturally be expected that
+before long we will all be getting mar——be getting separate
+establishments of _our own_—I am glad that there is no prospect of
+mother’s spending her life _alone_. And then to see how long the curate
+has waited for her! Ever since the first winter of his boarding with her
+while we were his pupils—now that is what I call genuine affection—very
+few men would have done that!”
+
+“Well, but, Gusty, he _boarded_ with her all the time—he had her society
+all the time—so what odds?”
+
+“True—I do suppose that was the secret of his patience. And now, Hagar,
+this singular girl, where are we to find her?”
+
+“She is out on the moor somewhere, with horse and hounds—she has been
+out all day.”
+
+Just as they spoke the sunset rays were intercepted by another
+equestrian figure. The slight, elegant figure of a dark complexioned
+young girl clad in a dark green riding habit, cap and plume, mounted on
+a jet black courser, came pricking over the heath, followed by a couple
+of beautiful pointers. In her hand she held a light fowling-piece, and
+at her saddle’s pommel hung a game bag filled with birds. As her falcon
+eye descried the youth and maiden, she bounded forward to meet them—she
+was at their side—and “Hagar!” “Gusty!” were the joyful words of
+recognition that simultaneously broke from their lips, as their horses
+nearly met in a shock, and he bent from his saddle, caught her to his
+bosom, and gave her a hearty kiss. It was a brother’s greeting to the
+sister of his babyhood. And—“How you have grown, Hagar!” “How tall you
+are, Gusty!” were the next words of surprise and pleasure that broke
+from their lips as they backed their horses and gazed at each other
+delightedly—“What a sportsman you are, Hagar!” “When did you come,
+Gusty?” were the next cross-question and remark spoken in the same
+breath by both.
+
+“I came scarcely an hour ago,” answered Augustus.
+
+“And you have been to the Hall?”
+
+“Yes, Rosalia and myself rode over to the Hall to see you—hearing that
+you were out, and we being impatient, could not await you there, so we
+rode out in search of you—but what a sportsman you are, Hagar! have you
+bagged anything? or only scared the birds and shot yourself?”
+
+“Enough for your supper, Master Gusty—and I guess that it will not be
+unwelcome—I rather think, it is some time since you have enjoyed the
+luxury of a canvas-back duck!” said the girl, with a dash of pique in
+her tone. Then raising her eagle eye to the sky, she quickly touched
+Gusty, and pointing immediately over head, exclaimed, “Quick, Gusty!
+look! do you see that speck—like a speck of ink in the dark blue
+zenith?”
+
+“Why, no! Who could see a speck in the zenith of such a dark sky as
+this—none but you, Hagar, whose gaze would make the sun bat his eyes!”
+
+She raised her fowling-piece, took aim, fired, and in another instant a
+rush and whirr of wings swooped down through the air, and a white
+pigeon, the hapless laggard, or perhaps the pioneer of some flock,
+dropped bleeding at their feet.
+
+“Admirable!” exclaimed Augustus.
+
+The wild girl’s dark eyes flashed under their long lashes, and her white
+teeth gleamed between her smiling lips as she noticed his surprise. But
+Rosalia gazed in tearful sorrow at the wounded and fluttering bird—and—
+
+“Poor, poor thing!” she said, “it was going home, thinking of no harm or
+danger!” and her tears fell mingling with and diluting the blood that
+crimsoned the white feathers of its bosom.
+
+“Ah! it was cruel in Hagar to kill the pigeon, wasn’t it?” inquired
+Gusty, derisively, relapsing into boyish rudeness.
+
+“No! I do not say it was cruel _in_ Hagar because she didn’t stop to
+think; but it was cruel _to_ the bird, poor, dear thing! Can’t you do
+anything for it, Gusty?”
+
+Now this was asked so naively through her tears, that Gusty, rude
+hobble-de-hoy, burst into a loud laugh, and at its end assumed gravity
+and answered,—
+
+“Yes, we can send for a surgeon!”
+
+Rosalia alighted cautiously from her horse, and kneeling down on the
+turf gazed mournfully at the glazing eyes of the bird—it fluttered
+violently once or twice, and then grew still. She burst into tears and
+sobbed convulsively.
+
+“Why, Rose!” “Why, what a baby!” exclaimed Hagar and Augustus in the
+same breath.
+
+“Oh! but, poor thing, what harm had it done? It was sailing so blithely
+through the sky, and now it is quite dead—not even gone to Heaven, where
+I wish it could go. I am sorry for you, too, Hagar, for I know you feel
+so bad about shooting the poor bird, now that it is done.” And suffering
+herself to be lifted into her saddle by Gusty, who had alighted for the
+purpose, she ambled up to the side of Hagar and held out her hand—“I
+know you are sorry, Hagar! are you not?”
+
+The face of the dark girl was sparkling with mirth.
+
+“No, my little white dove,” she answered, “not at all; and as for your
+bird, though its spirit is not probably yet in Heaven, it may be on its
+way there!”
+
+“What is that you say, Hagar?” queried Gusty.
+
+Hagar reined up her horse, and stooping, lifted the dead bird; she
+asked—
+
+“Where is the spirit, the life that animated this bird, Gusty?”
+
+“Why, _dead_, of course.”
+
+“Pooh! _this_ that I hold in my hand is dead, but the life—the
+life—where is that?”
+
+“Gone, of course, gone; where else should it be?”
+
+“‘Gone’—_where_?”
+
+“Where?—why, where?—why, gone—_away_.”
+
+“Thank you! perfectly satisfactory,” said Hagar, and her wild eyes
+flashed, and her white teeth gleamed with suppressed mirth.
+
+“Tell me—tell me, Hagar!” said little Rosalia, “do you think, _sure
+enough_, that birds _do_ go to Heaven? Sometimes _I_ think so, too; they
+are so beautiful and good, you know! But then the Holy Bible says,—‘The
+beasts that perish,’ therefore, of course, they must perish.”
+
+“Your first expressed thought may be not unscriptural, little angel—the
+_beasts_ perish; their _forms_ perish; but their _life_, through other
+transmigrations, may reach Heaven in the _human_ form!”
+
+“Why, that is the old doctrine of transmigration of souls,” said Gusty.
+
+“Not exactly, or rather, it is _more_ than that; for instance, I think
+that life continually _ascends_, never _descends_. It looks to me very
+stupid to suppose that a soul can _relapse_ into the form of a beast.
+No, life is never _lost_, but it continually _changes its locality_,
+always _ascending_; the various forms of life being the steps by which
+it reaches humanity—then Heaven. I have lived so much in the wildest
+solitudes of nature; I have seen so much _more_, so much _stronger_
+life-spirit _below_, than on a _level_ with humanity; I have felt it
+struggling up, through water, stones, and clay; through lichen, herb,
+and tree; through insects, birds, and beasts; up to its highest visible
+form, humanity; and I have grown to _dream_ that life-spirit is
+elaborated from matter; or if not so, that in the union of spirit with
+matter, spirit may be first incarnated in the lowest form of matter, and
+passing through its various stages rise to human, to angelic nature. I
+believe there is one life-God, and many lives; the souls created in His
+image—that these souls might not each have been created at a _word_, in
+a _moment_—but created, or elaborated through _long ages_. I believe
+that each soul retains its separate existence, its separate features,
+its individual self, unmixed as undivided through all its incarnations;
+for instance the spirit of a rose in ascending the scale of being will
+never enter the form of an eagle, or a lion. To illustrate nearer
+home—here is my gentle Rosalia, whose pure spirit, ages ago, might have
+slept in the pale light of a seed pearl; then, in the lapse of
+centuries, lived in the fragrance of the wood violet; then, through many
+transmigrations, reached the form of the dove, then a lamb, and lastly,
+is incarnated in the beautiful child before us.”
+
+“Then, if that were so, why can I not remember when I was a violet, and
+when I was a dove?” pertinently inquired Rosalia.
+
+“You cannot even recollect when you were an _infant_, little one—you
+cannot recollect all that happened last year, or last month; how should
+you be able to look back through a vista of past lives that the doors of
+many deaths have closed behind you. Perhaps at the close of your present
+life the whole vista may be thrown open, and you may be able to look
+back to the beginning. Oh, Rosalia! I remember that in the earliest
+years of conscious human existence, in infancy, my mind struggled as
+much backward for recollection, as forward for new knowledge.” She was
+silent awhile, and then pursuing the train of thought, she said,—“The
+analogy between material and spiritual nature seems to me to be perfect
+in all its particulars. I never saw a human being who had not his type
+in the minerals, in the vegetables, in the insects, in the birds, and in
+the beasts.”
+
+“What is my type in each?” asked Augustus.
+
+Hagar laughed as she replied,
+
+“You, Gusty, are so much modified by education—the widow’s petted
+child—that the stamp is nearly effaced, or at least smeared over;
+however, I can fancy you ascending the scale of being by these steps:
+mineral, bloodstone; vegetable, mustard; bird, the turkey; animal, the
+mastiff. There is, with all your strength, spirit, and courage, so much
+homeliness, domesticity about you, dear Gusty.”
+
+“And, Sophie, dearest Sophie, tell us all her incarnations.”
+
+“An agate—the sober-hued stone of which rosaries are made—then balm, so
+fragrant and refreshing in sickness, then the brown partridge, then the
+timid fawn, then _Sophie_.”
+
+“Good! that’s like her—now yourself, Hagar.”
+
+“The ruby, pepper, the falcon, the tiger. But these are fancies.”
+
+They rode on towards the Hall.
+
+“And oh!” said Hagar, “I tell you what character I admire—a spirit that
+has ascended through iron ore, oak, the elephant, into the form of some
+square-built, strong-minded, large-hearted, great-souled man!”
+
+“Heaven send you such an one!” exclaimed Gusty, dismounting to assist
+them from their saddles at the gate of the Hall. A servant approached to
+take charge of the horses, and leaving them in his care, our little
+party entered the house. Sophie received them at the door and conducted
+them into the parlor.
+
+It was just dusk, yet Mr. Withers, exhausted by illness, had retired to
+bed. It is years since we have seen Sophie, and she is somewhat
+changed—yet what her face had lost of infantile roundness and freshness,
+it had gained in intelligence and interest. She took her seat smilingly
+at the head of the tea-table and called the young people to seat
+themselves around her. When they were seated and served each with a cup
+of tea, she informed them that she had just written, at Mr. Withers’s
+request, to recall Raymond to the Hall, from the Theological college at
+the North, the preparatory school of which had been for two years under
+his charge.
+
+“And is it possible that he has never been at the Hall since he left it,
+the summer of your marriage, Mrs. Withers?”
+
+“Never, Gusty. He remained at college until he took his degree, and then
+passed immediately into his present business.”
+
+“He was a great friend of Hagar’s the little time he remained with you?”
+
+“Yes,” said Hagar, “_he_ loved me, _he_ never forgot or neglected me;
+even after he went away, in his letters to my aunt he always sent me a
+message until _I_ learned to write, and we have corresponded ever
+since.”
+
+“And Rosalia has never seen him?”
+
+“No,” said Hagar. “Rose did not arrive until after he had left us, and,
+as we have just told you, he has never been here since.”
+
+“And Rose will not see him now,” said Sophie, “for she leaves in one
+week for Boston for Mrs. Tresham’s school.”
+
+“And when,” inquired Gusty, “will Raymond be here?”
+
+“Not sooner than two or three weeks.”
+
+“Then Rose will _not_ see him?”
+
+“No, and I shall be so sorry,” said Rose.
+
+After further desultory conversation, they finished tea and arose from
+the table. Rosalia and Augustus remained all night, and early the next
+morning departed for the Grove Cottage. All the next week was occupied
+by Emily May in preparations for Rosalia’s departure, and, if it must
+out, in preparations for her own marriage with the Rev. Mr. Buncombe,
+the curate of the parish, the tutor of Hagar, Rosalia, and Gusty, and
+the boarder and suitor for many years of Emily May. It was for the
+purpose of getting her dear son’s consent and presence that she had
+waited these last three years, and it was for the sake of gratifying her
+pet child, Rosalia, that she now determined that the marriage should
+take place before her departure to the North. Captain Wilde, whose ship
+now lay at Norfolk, had also been summoned to attend the wedding, and
+arrived in due season. Of course Mr. Withers and Sophie had been
+solicited, and were expected to attend. Upon the evening of the marriage
+day, however, as Rosalia was performing for Emily the affectionate
+service of dressing her for the ceremony, a note was handed the latter,
+which on being opened and read was found to be an apology from Sophie
+for nonattendance. “Mr. Withers,” she said, “was very much worse, and
+required her constant care.” If there was another motive for her absence
+it was not acknowledged to her own mind, scarcely recognised by her own
+heart.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+The quiet wedding was over, the routine of the quiet cottage scarcely
+disturbed by its occurrence, and the quiet bride and bridegroom had
+returned, the one to his studies, the other to her household affairs, as
+though nothing had happened. Captain Wilde had returned to his ship, and
+the pleasant intercourse between the Hall and the cottage resumed. The
+last night before the departure of Rosalia was at hand, and at the
+earnest request of Sophie, Mr. and Mrs. Buncombe had agreed to bring her
+over and spend it at the Hall. Augustus May was also of the party.
+Rosalia’s trunks had been packed and sent over early in the day, and in
+the afternoon the family from Grove Cottage rode over. It had been
+settled that Augustus May should attend Rosalia to the North. The packet
+that was to convey them to Baltimore lay at anchor under the shadow of
+the promontory.
+
+It was late in the afternoon when the carryall containing Mr. and Mrs.
+Buncombe, Rosalia, and Augustus, drew up before the gate of the Hall.
+Sophie met and conducted the party into the dining-room, where a feast
+had been prepared in honor of Rosalia’s departure. Mr. Withers, pale and
+emaciated, and propped up in a chair, was also present. It was her last
+evening at the Hall for some time to come, and so they sat up late. Mr.
+Withers, from extreme fatigue, retired early, but it was midnight before
+the remaining members of the party were in bed. Morning dawned,
+breakfast was over, adieux were wept and kissed, and as the first ray of
+the rising sun gilded the waves of the bay, Augustus handed and followed
+Rosalia into the packet for Baltimore.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XVI.
+                      THE STORY OF FANNY RAYMOND.
+
+            “Have you seen but the bright lily grow
+              Before rude hands have touched it?
+            Have you marked but the fall o’ the snow
+              Before the soil hath smutched it?”
+                                                BEN JONSON.
+
+
+The disease of Mr. Withers daily advanced—his health so rapidly declined
+that he became exceedingly anxious for the arrival of Raymond, who was
+now hourly expected.
+
+“Well, Sophie, my gentle nurse,” said he one day, as she sat by his
+bedside, “your probation is drawing to a close. You have devoted
+yourself to me for eight long years, my guardian angel—to what purpose?”
+
+“To what purpose?—you have done more good in this parish than any
+minister who has preceded you for many years; for even Mr. May, with all
+his excellences, lacked that eloquence—that power of persuasion—that
+profound knowledge of and potent sway over the human heart, that nothing
+but sorrow can lend to intellect. Hearts have been moved and elevated,
+minds aroused and inspired by your wisdom. A spirit has been invoked in
+this dull neighborhood that may never be still again. I have often
+thought how infinitely productive is _one_ good word, or thought, or
+act, its influence extending down generations, still augmenting for
+ever.”
+
+“Ah! Sophie, but while all the light was shed abroad, the shadow was
+cast black and thick at home; and how it has darkened our home and your
+young life, Sophie!”
+
+“Some _must_ suffer for others,” said Sophie, abstractedly.
+
+“And _have_ you suffered so much, Sophie?” he inquired, sadly.
+
+“No!—oh, no!—I was thinking of _your_ suffering, not of my own, and I
+thought aloud.”
+
+While she spoke, Hagar entered from a ride, and brought a letter from
+Rosalia. When it had been read, and Hagar had left the room to change
+her riding habit, he said,—
+
+“How much that girl—I mean Rosalia, writes like one I know—her very
+spirit speaks through Rosalia’s pen, as her form is again before me in
+Rosalia’s person.”
+
+“You mean Fanny?”
+
+“Yes, I mean Fanny. You have never, until this moment, mentioned her
+name to me since the night of Rosalia’s arrival, when I angrily forbade
+your doing so. Often since that I have wished that you might, thus
+affording me the opportunity of telling you our sad story. I will tell
+you now, but first, will Hagar be occupied for the next hour?”
+
+“Yes, she has gone to her chamber to answer Rosalia’s letter.”
+
+“Give me a cordial, Sophie?” She did so, and revived by the stimulant,
+Withers commenced his story.
+
+“I was the only son of my mother, and she a widow, Sophie. She supported
+and schooled me by her own exertions until I was eighteen years old,
+when I fell under the notice of the Rev. Lenox May, who received me into
+his house to read theology with him. Subsequently I entered college, and
+soon after taking orders, I had the misfortune to lose my mother. She
+had lived to see the desire of her heart, however—her beloved son in
+holy orders. She had seen the ceremony of his ordination, heard him
+preach his first sermon, heard it universally praised as a miracle of
+eloquence, thoroughly believed it herself, and was ready to exclaim—‘Now
+let thy servant depart in peace.’ Sophie, I never was intended for a
+minister of the Gospel. If I have made a tolerable one it is because the
+hard blows of circumstances have hammered me into shape. Accident and my
+mother’s wishes made me one. However, soon after my ordination, I was
+called to the charge of a parish in a village on the Hudson, and the
+adulation I there received reconciled me to the profession. I was called
+handsome and eloquent. The church certainly flourished under my
+ministry. I was flattered by the circumstance _then_; _now_ I know such
+is ever the case when a young clergyman of tolerable ability is
+installed in a parish. But, Sophie, I was foster-nursed by the old
+ladies of the parish, and out of that grew all my sorrows. South of the
+village, on an eminence overlooking the river, stood the white granite
+villa of my wealthiest and most important parishioner, General Raymond.
+He was a widower, with one child—the child of his old age—Fanny, the
+sole heiress of his property. Religion, or rather, evangelical theology,
+was his passion. How sonorous rang his full-toned responses through the
+church, as standing, his stout form erect, his broad shoulders thrown
+back _à-la-militaire_, his chest expanding with self-importance, he
+called himself a ‘miserable sinner.’ On the first Sunday of my
+installation he invited me home to dinner with him, and with stately,
+old-fashioned courtesy conducted me to his carriage that stood waiting
+at the church-door, and there, as I stepped in, I first saw Fanny
+Raymond, then a child of twelve years of age, a lovely, little,
+shrinking creature, who squeezed herself quite into the corner as I took
+the seat by her side, as you have often seen a playful white kitten draw
+herself up between fear and defiance, and I instantly felt the same
+impulse to catch the lovely, shy thing to my bosom that you would have
+felt to play with the said kitten. So strong was this impulse that it
+must have spoken through look and gesture, and might have been obeyed
+but that the pompous old general followed me immediately into the
+carriage, and announced, “My daughter, Miss Raymond,” with as much
+ceremony as though the sweet child had been a woman of five-and-twenty.
+She sat there, watching me furtively, her sweet eyes flashing their soft
+shy light under the shadowy lashes, and quickly averted when met by
+mine, while rose clouds would roll up over her snowy cheeks. That sweet,
+shy spirit, whether in the violet, in the fawn, or in the timid girl,
+always attracted me, Sophie. It was your eyes, that meeting my glance,
+would startle and dilate in beautiful haze that provoked _your_ fate,
+Sophie. I would have given anything—my parish—the world, then and there
+to have caught the shrinking child to my bosom, and hugged, and kissed,
+and romped with her to my heart’s content. From that day I was a
+frequent, and always a welcome and an honored guest at the villa. Time
+passed, and I rose in popularity, winning golden opinions from all sorts
+of people, and especially from women. As long as a young minister
+remains unmarried, unappropriated, unmonopolized, he is sure to be
+popular; so _my_ popularity continued to increase for three years. While
+watching the development of the child, Fanny Raymond, I had sought the
+society of no woman. When Fanny was about fifteen years of age, I was
+sent for one day to the villa. It was to be put in possession of an
+attested copy of General Raymond’s will, by a clause of which I was
+appointed sole trustee of the estate, until Fanny should come of age. It
+was during this visit, and in the presence of one of the old ladies of
+the parish, that General Raymond remarked, ‘I am now upwards of eighty
+years old—I am failing fast; I should like to see Fanny married before
+my departure, but, alas! that is a comfort for which I dare scarcely
+pray.’ Up to that time I had not thought of aspiring to the hand of
+General Raymond’s heiress. It was my lot that evening to drive the old
+lady, my fellow-visitor, back to the village in the General’s carriage.
+It was during our ride home that the old lady, one of my foster-mothers,
+suggested to me the plan, the propriety of my paying my addresses to
+Miss Raymond, ‘For,’ said she, ‘it is the duty of a young pastor to
+consider in his marriage the welfare of his parish.’
+
+“I took her advice. I wooed Fanny Raymond—did I love her? No; but her
+extreme youth, her beauty and graceful shyness strongly attracted
+me—through that idiosyncrasy that lured me to the pursuit of such. I
+wooed her, but she avoided, fled from me. That added zest to the chase.
+I had her father’s interest, and I married her. I married her, despite
+of her reluctance, or rather _because_ of her reluctance, and despite of
+tears, prayers, and resistance. (Here notwithstanding the chastening of
+illness and sorrow, his eye and lip glowed as with the recollection of
+piquant joy.) I married her. The wild shy creature, full of emotion as a
+harp is of music, was in my power—in my grasp. Oh! the wild beating of
+my heart, when I had caught and held the fluttering bird! Did I love her
+now? Yes! as the fire loves the fuel it consumes. And _then_ she loved
+_me_, Sophie! or rather _no_, I will not profane the word that expresses
+_your_ pure affection for me, Sophie. But she grew passionately,
+insanely fond of me—she loved me as the drunkard loves the bowl he feels
+is his destruction—as the moth loves the flame that must consume it. And
+then, Sophie! _then_, she lost all attractions for me! From indifference
+I grew almost to loathe her. I struggled against this growing disgust,
+but it overmastered me. Poor Fanny! if she had not been the simplest
+child on earth, if she had possessed the slightest speck of coquetry,
+this aversion might have been delayed. Poor Fanny!” (Here, overcome by
+his feelings, he covered his brow with his hand. How quickly varying
+emotions chased each other through his heart; but this belonged to the
+high action of his disease.) “We lived with her father. Fanny became a
+mother at sixteen. General Raymond lived to bless his grandson, and then
+was gathered to his fathers. We continued to reside at the villa. I
+utterly neglected her. At the slightest display of fondness on her part,
+I grew freezingly cold. This was _real_, this was a feeling it was
+useless to struggle against, as I had found, and as at last she
+understood. Fanny grieved, suffered, and sought solace in her child. As
+years passed, she became calm, grew accustomed and reconciled to her
+lot; and how beautiful she grew as her day advanced from its morning
+freshness towards the noonday glory it was destined never to reach. How
+beautiful! At least all the parish said so. _I_ could not feel her
+beauty. Years slid serenely, imperceptibly, over us. We were prosperous.
+I had the largest property, the most elegant house, and the most
+beautiful wife in the parish. Besides which I had a growing celebrity. I
+was vain-glorious, Sophie, _not proud_. There is this difference between
+pride and vainglory: pride does _not_ depend upon the external
+circumstances of rank, wealth, fame; vainglory _does_. We sometimes
+speak of _mortifying_ pride; _pride_ is _never_ mortified; it is
+impossible—it holds itself grandly above all such influences; vanity,
+self-love, is _often_ humbled. I was vain-glorious, not only of my
+wealth, of my celebrity, of my admired wife—but most of all, of the
+_intact propriety_ of all things appertaining to me. Years slid smoothly
+over us. I never saw so beautiful a woman as Fanny was at thirty. Few of
+our women bloom into the full flower—most of them are withered in the
+bud. Fanny at thirty was the perfect rose of beauty. Why, Sophie, when I
+took her to New York city, or into any strange company, there was always
+a half-suppressed murmur of irrepressible admiration. Though I was no
+longer _proud_ of her, yet now that for long years she had ceased to
+worry me with her unwelcome caresses, there had grown up a calm
+friendship and confidence between us—she understood me, and _I thought_
+that I understood her. I never guessed the latent force of passion,
+augmenting while it slumbered in her heart (sleep is the time for
+growth), or suspected the burning lava, burning more fiercely for
+suppression under the snowy exterior of that volcanic bosom! As little
+dreamed I of impending ruin as the city under the shadow of Vesuvius!
+About this time the whole country rang with the name of one man. A man
+distinguished alike for the splendor of his genius, the audacious flight
+of his ambition, the godlike beauty of his person, and the satanic power
+of fascination that neither the honor of man nor the purity of woman
+ever withstood. You cannot fail to identify the man—but _one_ such is
+born in a cycle of centuries. One day I received an invitation to preach
+an ordination sermon upon the next Sabbath, in the city. I had, during
+the years of my ministry, received several calls to take charge of large
+city parishes; but always declined them, because our large property and
+our home lay near our village. Frequently I was invited to preach in the
+cities, and then wherever I went crowds gathered. I always took Fanny
+with me, for the beauty of the woman attracted quite as much attention
+as the genius of the man. Upon receiving this invitation to preach the
+ordination sermon, therefore, I procured a substitute to fill my pulpit,
+and taking Fanny, stepped aboard a steamboat on Saturday morning, and
+the afternoon of the same day reached the city.
+
+“It had been advertised that I was to preach at that church, and at an
+early hour it was crowded, packed. As I entered the church and led Fanny
+up the aisle, I do not know whether I was most vain of her or of myself.
+I know that my heart was swelling with vainglory as I opened the door of
+one of the front central pews under the pulpit, handed her in, and
+passed within the altar to my place. I saw from my high post that Fanny
+divided attention with me from the few who, packed into the end pews,
+could obtain a view of her. In the end pew nearest the pulpit, on my
+right hand, I was surprised and flattered to recognise the celebrated B.
+I had never had him for an auditor before. I observed that he did not
+seem to see Fanny, who sat immediately in the angle of his vision,
+notwithstanding _her_ eyes were ever furtively raking him. I was not
+surprised at this, for to say nothing of his celebrity, he was by far
+the most distinguished looking man present, both for the striking beauty
+of his person and the grace and dignity of his attitude and demeanor;
+but I _was_ slightly surprised that he had not seemed to have seen the
+vision of loveliness and light that was dazzling all other eyes. These
+were not proper thoughts for a minister of the gospel in the pulpit, but
+they were mine; and they produced their bitter fruits, brought about
+their own punishment.
+
+“At the close of the sermon, a few minutes after I had left the pulpit,
+B. came from his pew, and a mutual friend introduced him to me. My wife
+was hanging on my arm at the time of this introduction. B. spoke of our
+village, of General Raymond as having been a valued friend, &c., and of
+his own intention soon to visit the village. I, like every one else he
+ever set his eyes upon, was fascinated by his looks and manners. I
+pressed him to come—and _soon_—and entreated him to come at once to the
+villa, instead of stopping at a hotel, and to make our house his home,
+while he should find it convenient or agreeable to honor us with his
+presence.
+
+“Well, Sophie, I returned home on Monday. In the course of the week, B.
+visited us. He remained with us an honored guest for two weeks, and in
+those two weeks, Sophie!——His manner rather than his words seemed to
+reveal a warm admiration for me and everything about me. Our elegant
+house, well-chosen library, our busts and pictures, our tastefully
+planned grounds, everything seemed to give him a quiet and graceful
+delight. His manner to me seemed (for all was _seeming_) to reveal a
+charming mixture of reverence and affection. I was fascinated—drawn in.
+His manner seemed distant to my wife, _so_ distant that I never inclined
+to _jealousy_, but often to _vanity_; felt piqued that he did not appear
+to appreciate the merits of _her_, my most brilliant appendage. He
+visited little while he remained at our house; the charms of our house
+seemed to rivet him to the place. Parochial duty called me frequently
+from home; he was left to the hospitable care of my wife. They were much
+together.
+
+“The last day of his stay approached. And up to that day I was utterly
+unsuspicious of the cloud lowering black and heavy over my house!
+utterly unprepared for the descent of the thunderbolt that blasted my
+hearth! The day of his departure dawned. It had been arranged between us
+that I should drive him down to the village, in the carriage, to meet
+the steamboat that would pass in the evening. But early in the afternoon
+I was summoned to attend the bedside of a dying parishioner, at an
+opposite point of the village. I was constrained, therefore, to leave
+him, promising, however, to meet him at the steamboat hotel, before his
+departure.
+
+“I left him with Fanny—Oh! let me recall her image, as the last time I
+saw her in purity and peace: She sat in a chair by the open window,
+arrayed in a beautiful robe of light blue silk; her air and attitude I
+noticed _then_ was pensive; her elbow rested on the window-sill, and her
+arm, her beautiful arm, encircled by a diamond bracelet, emerged from
+its sleeve of silk and lace; her hand supported her drooping head, from
+which her ringlets hung like spiral curls of glittering gold. The other
+gemmed and snow-like hand hung listless by her side. Strange! I was then
+inspired with a warmth of affection towards her I had not felt for
+years. I stepped back as I was about leaving the room, and lifted the
+snow-flake hand to my lips, and then left the room and the house, for
+the first time for years, with the wish that I might be able to dispatch
+my business quickly and return soon. This caprice pursued me,
+strengthening every inch of the way, as I journeyed from her, until at
+the solemn bed of death, it was interrupted by the sight of my dying
+parishioner and his weeping family. I administered the last consolations
+of religion to the dying man, or at least I read the service for the
+sick by his bedside, and gave him the sacrament. I soon after took
+leave, and rode towards the village, where I expected to find B.,
+awaiting the steamboat. I found him in the parlor of the hotel. As the
+hour of the boat’s passing had not quite arrived, I ordered supper, and
+we supped together. Yes! we sat down once more and broke bread together!
+Oh! the power of duplicity in that bad man! Had I been the most jealous,
+as I was then the most unsuspicious of human beings, by no sign in his
+countenance or manner could I have detected a consciousness in him of
+the blasting ruin he had wrought in my home! His conversation was as
+brilliant, his manner as entertaining as ever; and his eyes sought mine
+with the same earnest sweetness that had ever lived in their expression.
+At the end of half an hour, the boat stopped at the landing, and I took
+leave of him with more regret than I had ever felt at parting with
+mortal man before or since. I pressed him to repeat his visit soon, and
+make it longer—and he promised! and bade me bear his best wishes and his
+adieux to Mrs. Withers! I mounted my horse and rode towards home, my
+thoughts strangely haunted with Fanny—how lovely she seemed in my
+thoughts! I hastened onwards. I drew near the house.
+
+“That ride home! How distinctly, how indelibly is every circumstance
+attending it imprinted on my memory! That ride home through the dark,
+cool woods, with the moonlight shimmering down through the leaves, with
+the merry chirp of insects in the trees, with the fresh dew on the
+grass; with my heart warmer, lighter, gladder, than it had been for
+years; nothing, nothing to warn me of the ruin before me! I was, except
+the stirring of a new and glad emotion, as calm as Pompeii under the
+shadow of Vesuvius. I passed through the iron gate in front of our
+house—it swung to with a loud clang behind me. To this day the clang of
+a gate sends a pang to my heart. I passed up the gravel walk between
+rows of violets whose fragrance filled the air. I recollect it so
+distinctly. To this hour the smell of violets makes me ill. I jumped
+from my horse, and throwing the bridle to a servant who came to take it,
+I hastened up the marble stairs, and into the house. The lamps were not
+lighted. ‘She is enjoying the moonlight of this cool hour,’ I said, and
+I passed into the parlor. The moon was shining through the two large
+front windows shaded with foliage, and shining in two bright square
+patches, variegated with the black shadows of the leaves on the carpet;
+and the leaves in the window and their shadows on the floor trembled in
+the rising breeze. At first I thought the room was vacant, but looking
+around, I presently discerned the form of Fanny on a sofa in the back of
+the room. She lay partly on the floor, partly on the sofa. Her dress
+disordered, her hair dishevelled, her face down, her arms thrown over
+her head in an attitude of the uttermost despair—of the last
+abandonment. Surprised, I approached her, thinking her sick, or perhaps
+sleeping. I spoke to her—she did not reply. I stooped, raised, and
+kissed her. _Then_ she bounded like a shot from under my embrace, and
+sank cowering in a distant part of the room. Wondering, I followed her,
+but she raised, turned away her head, grinding her face into the corner,
+while she threw up both arms towards me in a frantic, abjuring gesture!
+I now really fancied that in the dubious light, I had mistaken some one
+_else_ for Fanny; that this could not be she, but was probably some poor
+mad stroller. I hastened into the hall and called for lights. They were
+brought, set upon the mantel-piece, and the servant retired. I turned
+towards her. God! what a thing met my view! Ashy pale, with a wild blaze
+in her blue eyes, haggard and shuddering, she cowered in the corner, her
+hands clasping her head, her gaze riveted in phrensied despair upon me!
+I spoke to her, but she changed not her attitude. I caressed her, and
+she broke forth in raving madness. God! oh God! Sophie, how can I
+describe to you the grief, horror, _distraction_, with which I gathered
+from her raving, the shameful story of _her_ fall and of my dishonor!
+Though earth and hell swam together in my reeling reason, every fact of
+the loathsome story betrayed in her phrensied remorse struck distinctly
+on my ear. How the snake had glided nearer to her every day, fascinating
+her imagination by his brilliancy, stealing into her bosom by his sweet
+tenderness, lulling her fears and disarming her resistance by his gentle
+mesmerism, winding coil after coil of his serpent fold around her, and
+delaying until the last hour—the tender parting hour, the safe hour of
+sorrowful, tearful adieux, and non-resistance—the _unguarded_ hour, to
+strike his venomed fangs deep in her heart! How sudden was her fall—how
+quick her recovery! How terrible her remorse! And I, Sophie! _I!_—I said
+that earth and hell swam together in my reason! I felt a rushing and
+roaring in my head and ears like the coming of many waters; the earth
+rocked under my feet, and I thought the end of all things was at hand. I
+suppose I fell. **** The next link in memory was a slow, feeble
+returning to consciousness—more like a weak babe’s first coming into
+existence than like a man’s revival. The first glimmering of sensibility
+found me extended prostrated on my bed, unable to lift or turn; aye,
+even to _move_ a limb. The only fluttering life seeming to linger in my
+languid eyes, and in the weak breath hovering in my bosom and on my lips
+like a soul ready for flight. A dreary, dreary weight that I could then
+neither understand, nor throw off, lay heavy on my soul. A sorrowful,
+shadowy face, like a dream of Fanny, floated past my vision. It was the
+face of Raymond, my son, my constant attendant. Too slowly dawned reason
+and memory on the night of my intellect to endanger a shock and a
+relapse. Day by day, and hour by hour, I picked up and restrung the
+broken and scattered links in the chain of circumstances; and in a few
+days, before my physical powers were recovered sufficiently to allow me
+to speak a consecutive sentence, or utter a word above my breath, I
+understood the height and depth—the full extent of my ruin. But _she_!
+where was _she_? I saw nothing of her—heard nothing of her. For many
+days I dared not inquire. At last one day when Raymond was sitting by me
+with his shame-bowed head leaned upon his hands, my anxiety, by intense
+thought of her, had become insupportable.
+
+“‘Raymond!’ said I.
+
+He looked up sorrowfully.
+
+“‘Where is your mother, my boy?’
+
+“‘Gone!’
+
+“‘How!’
+
+“‘Fled!’
+
+“‘When?’
+
+“‘Upon the night of your attack.’
+
+“‘Where? with whom?’
+
+“‘We do not know.’
+
+“‘Has any one pursued her?’
+
+“‘No, sir.’
+
+“‘Why did not you follow her—seek, save her?’
+
+“‘My duty was by your bedside, my father?’
+
+“‘Raymond! tell me! how far is this dreadful tragedy known—how far has
+her frantic remorse, _my_ phrensied despair exposed us?’
+
+“He was silent, and when I repeated and pressed the question he bowed
+his young face upon his hands and wept. The tears trickled between his
+fingers. I understood by his silent grief that our shame was not hidden.
+After a while, ‘Raymond!’ said I. He raised his tearful face. ‘You loved
+your mother?’ He sobbed aloud.
+
+“‘Go and seek her.’
+
+“‘My place is by your side, my father.’
+
+“‘Go and seek your mother.’
+
+“‘I cannot leave you yet, sir.’
+
+“‘Go and seek and save your mother, lodge her in a place of safety, and
+then return to me.’
+
+“‘Alas! sir, you need me every moment—do not command me to leave you.’
+
+“‘Raymond! _now_ I cannot rest until I know she is found and safe, or
+_dead_, and so it is with you, boy. Raymond, do you sleep at night?’
+
+“He shook his head mournfully—_so_ mournfully. Ah! if our betrayer could
+have seen our sorrow, his heart—even _his_ heart, would have been melted
+in repentance for all the wreck he had made.
+
+“‘Raymond,’ said I, ‘she has severed the tie that bound her to _me_, but
+she is your mother still—_that_ tie nor life nor death can sever. _I_
+may not—_must_ not see her again; _you_ must go and seek her, find her,
+and find a distant, secluded asylum for her. _You_ must tend and care
+for her, and make her life as tolerable as, with her keen sensibilities,
+the memory of her awful sin will permit it to be. I give her up to you.
+To-morrow morning you must set out on your search.’
+
+“He no longer opposed my wish, perhaps it was _his_ wish too, in fact.
+Utterly exhausted by the conversation, I sank into silence.
+
+“The next morning I renewed my charge to him, and, with some difficulty,
+got him off. Now you will be surprised that I charged one so young, for
+he was but fourteen, with such a mission, but before any other would I
+have chosen that lad. Raymond was ever an earnest, thoughtful, and now a
+sorrow-stricken boy. He left me the second day.
+
+“Upon my first return to consciousness, when I was so weak, I would
+sometimes recognise a neighbor, or a parishioner, by my bedside, but,
+unwilling to meet his or her eye, I would close mine, and lie still; and
+after that I gave orders that no one should be admitted to my chamber.
+Many days passed. At last Raymond returned, with news of my poor
+fugitive. Wandering towards the south, she had been arrested. Her rare
+beauty, her insanity (for she had lost her reason), the mystery that
+enveloped her, excited interest. She had been lodged in the —— Asylum
+for the insane, and there she had been left.
+
+“Was it strange that I felt no resentment towards her? Perhaps had I
+_loved_ her more this would have been otherwise; perhaps all feeling
+of anger was drowned in _humiliation_. At length I got down stairs.
+It was impossible then to refuse myself to my visitors. They were my
+oldest and gravest parishioners. They were a long time in breaking
+the ice of the subject congealing around my heart, but when at
+length it _was_ broken, the waters of sympathy flowed freely. ‘Cut
+off this abomination from your house!’ ‘Amputate this polluted—this
+putrid limb, though it were your right hand!’ This was their advice,
+and I followed it. The necessary steps occupied me some time. The
+necessity of settling my chaotic household and arranging my future
+plan of living kept me busy for some weeks. Still even then, between
+the pauses of practical duty, my mind would suddenly fall into
+stagnation, when neither memory nor reason could be aroused, when
+only _instinct_ kept me silent or sententious, lest I should expose
+myself; into that terrible state when the mind hovers on the shadowy
+boundary of madness—the twilight hour between the day of reason and
+the night of insanity—upon the awful line dividing _conscious_ from
+_un_conscious madness! But madness affects the whole system. The
+blood was sent in rushing force and choking volume to my heart, and
+forth again with lightning speed, in lava streams, down my veins,
+impelling me to leaping phrensy! Oh! how I dreaded when this chained
+demon would burst the weak fetters of my will! This dread!—this
+dread! I dared not confide it to any one—dared not consult a
+physician. I furtively read all the books I could upon the subject,
+and took all the means I could to avert the impending—the hourly—the
+momentarily impending horror! Oh, Sophie! on God’s earth there is
+not a grief or terror like this; bearing a fiend in your bosom,
+bound by the feeblest threads of consciousness and will—threads that
+you fear and feel may be burst asunder at any moment. I walked with
+reeling brain upon the slippery edge of a dizzy precipice!—I walked,
+as it were, upon a mine that threatened every instant to explode!
+Everywhere—at home, abroad, walking, riding, in the full glory of
+noonday, in the dark watches of the night, I bore this grenade of
+the bosom! In the pulpit, Sophie—in the midst of the most closely
+reasoned argument, suddenly the blood would rush through my veins,
+and into my head, impelling me to leap, shouting, over the
+pulpit-top, and throttle some of the people before me. This
+impending horror—the constant _dread_ of it, accelerated the hour of
+its fall upon me. One day, late in the evening, I was riding home
+with Raymond. We were, as usual, _silent_, for oh, Sophie! we sat
+together long hours at home in silence—we rode together long miles
+without exchanging a word. The forest-path through which we rode was
+the same one I had passed in going home upon the evening of my
+household wreck. The shadows were as dark in the woods, the dew was
+as fresh on the grass, the chirps of the insects as blithe in the
+trees, and the silvery beams of the moonlight shimmered as brightly
+through the overhanging leaves. It was the same scene—the same!
+Every instant the excitement was rising higher in my bosom, growing
+irrepressible—uncontrollable; until, as we emerged from the
+forest-path, and passed into our yard—as the iron gate swung to with
+a clang—as the perfume of violets met me—as the dark front of the
+house loomed up in the moonlight,—everything reproducing the scene
+of that fatal evening, insanity broke forth in phrensy, and I became
+a raving maniac!
+
+“I recovered my reason to learn the value of poor Fanny’s son. I awoke
+one day from a deep sleep—I awoke refreshed, with cooler blood, calmer
+nerves, and clearer brain, than I had known for weeks, and with a full
+consciousness of all that had passed up to the hour of my loss of
+self-control. Raymond was sitting by me.
+
+“‘Raymond, what has happened?’ inquired I.
+
+“‘You have been very ill, my father.’
+
+“‘I have been MAD!—I know that right well, my boy—but tell me, how long
+did it last? what did I do? and who was with me?’ This last was the most
+important question—my heart stopped its pulsations until he answered:
+
+“‘Your attack spent its _fury in half an hour_, father—you hurt no one
+but yourself—and—no one witnessed your—your _illness_ but myself and the
+waiter who assisted me in getting you up to bed.’
+
+“‘And what did you then do? what did you give me?’
+
+“‘Nothing, father; nature did everything, and did it well—art nothing.
+Your fury spent itself as a storm spends itself—-by raging—and then it
+subsided, as a storm subsides, into perfect calmness; you fell into a
+deep sleep of exhaustion, which lasted all last night and all to-day,
+from which you have but just awaked; and you feel better _for_ the
+attack, do you not, father? It has expended the gathering vapors and
+gloom of many weeks, and you feel better?’
+
+“‘Yes, yes, quite well, calm and clear-headed; but, Raymond, with this
+interregnum in my memory, and this great change in my feelings, it seems
+to me that a long, long time, has intervened since my attack; _how_ long
+has the time really been?’
+
+“‘Not quite twenty-four hours.’
+
+“‘Has any one called to-day?’
+
+“‘No one.’
+
+“‘Then none know of this except yourself?’
+
+“‘No, sir, none know of this except myself and the waiter, who does not
+more than half comprehend it, and who, besides, is no gossip.’
+
+“‘You understand that I _wish_ no one to know of it?’
+
+“‘I understand that perfectly, my father; and it shall be my care to
+guard your secret.’
+
+“It was some time after this that I found how much I had hurt Raymond by
+a furious blow on the chest dealt in my phrensy.
+
+“From that time, Sophie, my disease became periodical; Raymond was my
+constant attendant. These repeated attacks of lunacy impaired my temper;
+I became gloomy, irascible, misanthropic. My attacks of phrensy became
+less frequent and violent, but my gloom deepened as a natural
+consequence; for unless I could have been _cured_ it was even _better_
+that these regular storms should disperse the unwholesome vapors of my
+mind. There is a wonderful analogy between the soul and the
+atmosphere—storms clear both—though in storms, both mental and
+atmospheric, there is sometimes much damage done. Well! the storms had
+well nigh ceased, but the gloom gathered thicker and thicker in my mind,
+and working up through it was one irrational wish—a desire to re-marry;
+and with this returned in all its former force my idiosyncrasy—of
+seeking the reluctant—pursuing the flying—catching the resisting—and in
+the darkening of my gloom this deepened into the desire of _torturing
+the victim_! You shudder, Sophie! but this was insanity. Every passion
+in its excess is moral insanity—-every exaggerated idiosyncrasy is
+mental insanity; and in madness, brought about by any other external
+cause, the master passion, or the distinguishing idiosyncrasy, if not
+entirely _reversed_, is exaggerated to phrensy. _My_ idiosyncrasy was
+exaggerated—because morbid. I had left my pulpit fearing that if I did
+not my pulpit would eject _me_. I had shut myself up in the villa, and
+brooded over my wish, and the readiest way of accomplishing it. At this
+time I received a letter from Mr. May, inquiring the reason of my
+resignation of my pulpit—a notice of which he had seen in the ‘Church
+Organ.’ I replied ‘domestic affliction,’—‘the _loss_ of my wife,’—she
+_was_ lost—but need I blazon my dishonor by revealing the _manner_ of
+her loss? _He_ understood, simple old man! that she was _dead_, and
+there he left it. The correspondence ceased. A few months from that time
+I received at the same moment the news of his death and a call to fill
+his pulpit. I accepted it, glad to escape from my neighborhood. I sent
+Raymond off to college—shut up the villa, leaving it in charge of old
+Jupiter, who lived at a porter’s lodge at the gate, and I came down
+here, full of my purpose of finding another wife. You, Sophie, at first
+sight, struck my fancy; as usual with my peculiar mood of love, your
+shrinking from me but lured me to the chase—but added zest to the idea
+of catching you; your avowed dislike and shuddering antipathy but served
+to intensify the desire to seize and torture you—forgive me, Sophie!
+this was insanity. Though constantly threatened with an attack of
+phrensy, I had not one single one after leaving the scene of my sorrows.
+I married you, Sophie, as I had married Fanny—in spite of your tears and
+prayers—in defiance of your antipathy and against your will. When I had
+thought it was safe to let him know it, when he could no longer
+interfere, or at least when I thought that there was no _time_ left for
+him to reach here in season,—I wrote and told Raymond—paying him the
+compliment of the _form_ of an invitation—and telling him in the same
+letter of the escape, flight, and suicide of his mother. He did not come
+in season, as you know—though he grazed the edge of ‘the nick of time.’
+
+“Now, Sophie, for another revulsion of feeling. From the time I first
+saw you, as I said, the idea of marrying you interested and amused
+me—your aversion stimulated my stagnant blood agreeably. I _lived_ in
+the thought of getting you into my power—life _came_ and waned with this
+thought. As the day of our marriage approached your antipathy thoroughly
+aroused me—I gloated over the idea of tormenting and torturing you. But
+when our marriage day drew _very_ near, you fell into apathy! That
+disappointed me. I thought you were going to die on my hands. My
+interest in you waned with your non-resistance. The wedding-day, the
+evening came, and I married you. You were then so still in your
+despair—so cold—so dead!—I felt swindled out of my enjoyment, and half
+regretted my bargain. I felt as the tyrant must feel when his victim on
+the rack expires before half the exquisite torments or the crowning
+torture is tried and suffered. Don’t shudder now, Sophie! I _was
+insane_!
+
+“Well, Sophie, I left your side to have a conversation with Dr.
+Otterback. I left you almost expiring. When I saw you again, life and
+light had returned to you. When you came up to me and laid your fair
+hand on my arm, so softly, and spoke to me so kindly, I gazed in wonder
+on your face; and, Sophie, the angel looking through your eyes subdued
+me. Your after kindness melted me into penitence. Still there were
+adverse influences at work. A mind shaken to its foundation, as mine had
+been, was not to be calmed soon, or stay calm long. The sudden sight of
+Raymond, the image of his mother, in her perfect beauty, connecting the
+present with the past so painfully, affected me more than the sight of
+Fanny herself had done. Alas! poor Fanny had been scarcely recognisable.
+I could scarcely realize the identity of that haggard wanderer of the
+heath with the resplendent beauty of the Villa. But her image lived
+again in Raymond. Never had the extraordinary resemblance struck me so
+forcibly, as when, after a long absence from _both_, I again saw
+Raymond. The associations conjured up, brought on that violent attack of
+phrensy that seized me at the Hall. Well, Sophie! my guardian angel, you
+have known all my moods since then. You know how your love has subdued
+my hate—your heaven redeemed my hell—your angel converted my demon.
+Enough, Sophie! your probation is almost over. My earthly life is
+drawing near its close. When I am gone, Raymond will be as a brother to
+you. Raymond is wealthy. Never since her separation from me have I
+appropriated a dollar of the fortune that came with his mother. I could
+not bear to do it. Now, dear Sophie! I am very tired; close the
+shutters, draw the curtains and leave the room, that I may sleep while
+you take some relaxation and refreshment.”
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XVII.
+                               THE STORM.
+
+        “The storm comes in fury! loud roars the wild blast—
+        Like a quivering reed, shakes the towering mast,
+        But on the bark dashes, proud, dauntless, and free,
+        She rides like a gull on the crest of the sea.”
+                                            CHARLES H. BRAINARD.
+
+
+Hagar had gone to her chamber to write a letter. Hagar’s room was on the
+third floor front, at the angle of the old hall. Its front and east
+windows overlooked the bay for many miles up and down. Its north
+windows, the bay, the moor, and forest. It was like the wild girl to
+choose this eyrie! She selected it because its lofty height commanded
+the bay,—because it was far above the inhabited parts of the house, no
+soul, except herself, occupying or ever coming near that floor, or even
+the one beneath it. Then it was very large and airy, and furnished or
+_un_furnished, to suit the singular girl’s fancy. The walls were papered
+with a German landscape paper, representing parts of the Black Forest,
+and the exploits of the Wild Huntsman. The floor was painted dark green,
+and the paint had been worn off here and there in patches; so that in
+the dusky light the room looked not unlike a wild and darksome forest
+glade, the scene of some weird revel, shown in silent pantomime. A tent
+bedstead, with hangings of faded green damask, stood at the furthest
+extremity of the room; the windows were also curtained with the same
+material. Between the front windows stood an old-fashioned escritoire,
+full of innumerable drawers, closets, and pigeon-holes, which, with one
+or two heavy old chairs, completed the original furniture of the room.
+With Hagar’s varying mood, her dark and dreamy, or her free, wild mood,
+the singular girl would close all the shutters, and draw all the
+curtains, converting the room into a shadowy scene of woodland romance,
+from which the demon figure of the Wild Huntsman would glimmer out in
+the gleam of some stray ray of sunlight flickering through a crevice in
+the closed shutters; or, throwing open the four windows to the day, she
+would let in a flood of light and air, and the prospect of half a
+hemisphere of blue sky and salt water. Her room now, as she sought it,
+was light, free, and exposed as the highest peak of the promontory; and
+the rising wind rushed through it in a strong, fresh current, swelling
+and flapping the heavy curtains like the heavy sails of a ship. She
+entered her room, and before sitting down to write, laid off and put
+away her riding habit in one of the dark closets, and went to the
+windows and drew aside, looped up and confined the curtains, to keep
+them from flapping in the wind; _reefed_ them, as a sailor would say.
+Then she gazed anxiously out upon the boundless bay, where the
+freshening gale was rolling up the waves against the advancing tide, and
+upon the darkening sky where clouds were piled like ink-hued mountains
+from horizon to zenith, and upon the distant sail of a wave-tossed
+packet that gleamed like a snow-flake on the black bosom of the water an
+instant, and then, like a snow-flake, would melt and disappear in the
+rise of an intervening wave.
+
+“God! if Raymond should be in that bark!” she cried, as her falcon
+glance descried it.
+
+Seizing her small telescope (one of her toys when a child, one of her
+jewels when a woman), she levelled it at the distant bark. She gazed
+eagerly. On struggled the frail vessel between wind and wave, tacking
+from side to side, now driven forward by the gale, now thrown back by
+the tide. She gazed anxiously. The thunder muttered in the distance. The
+gale quickened, and now stronger than the tide, drove on the fragile
+bark before it, reeling and pitching like a drunken man. She left the
+window and the room, and hurrying down stairs, hastened from the house,
+fled to the promontory, and stood upon the extreme point of the peak
+gazing out upon the waters.
+
+The sky was black as night. The bosom of the bay heaved like a strong
+heart in a strong agony. On came the vessel bounding and rebounding
+before the wind, until it was brought up suddenly by the strong current
+of the waves that whirled around the point of the promontory; and then
+it heaved and tossed between leaping and flashing waters and buffeting
+winds! There on that maelstrom it heaved and set like a guilty wish in
+an ardent soul, driven on by the gale of passion and opposed by the tide
+of conscience, and nearly wrecked between them. There it heaved and set,
+vainly struggling to round the promontory, and enter the harbor of
+Churchill’s Point. There it rolled and writhed and groaned; now raised
+by a towering wave, now thrown down a yawning ocean cavern, while the
+lightning glared, and the thunder breaking overhead rolled rumbling down
+the abyss of distance! Upon the extreme point of the peak, like the
+spirit of the storm, stood Hagar, her hair and raiment flying in the
+gale around her, her eyes fixed upon the writhing vessel. Suddenly with
+a sharp cry, scarce touching with her light foot the points of the crags
+that served her for steps, she sped down the dizzy precipice; she had
+recognised Raymond, just at the moment when the slight vessel, lifted by
+an uprearing giant wave, was pitched upon the rocks at the base of the
+promontory! Shot from the deck into the air by the sudden concussion,
+three or four men dropped into the sea at the distance. Hagar’s eyes
+with a rapid glance traversed the bosom of the waters. She saw one or
+two sturdy sailors rise, buffeting the waves and struggling to reach the
+shore. But she saw not Raymond, though with pausing brain, breathless
+lungs, and bursting heart, she watched the surface of the now subsiding
+waters. At last at some distance up the coast she saw him rise,
+struggle, catch at the air, half leap from the water, fall, turn over
+and disappear under the wave, that was colored with his blood! She
+bounded forward and sprang upon her boat. Unmooring it and casting the
+ropes behind her, she seized the oar and dashed into the midst of the
+boiling sea. Urging on her boat between flashing foam and brine, she
+passed the eddy around the point, and rode rocking forward upon the
+rising and falling waves towards the spot she had seen him sink at.
+Keeping her eyes down the current where she supposed he would be
+whirled, she again saw him rise and struggle. She pulled swiftly for the
+spot, reached it, while he, lashing the waves with his arms, seized the
+side of the boat, and turned himself suddenly and heavily in, his weight
+pitching the light skiff upon one end. Hagar, with her skill and
+presence of mind, threw her whole weight upon the oar at the other end,
+and thus righted the boat. With a look of earnest gratitude to Hagar,
+Raymond seized the other oar, and they pulled for the shore. The sudden
+storm had spent its fury. It was now passing off, like a woman’s fit of
+anger in a passion of tears, in a heavy shower of rain. They pulled for
+the shore, but Raymond pulled painfully. They reached the beach where
+the captain, mate, and two men that composed the whole crew of the small
+craft, were waiting under the drenching rain.
+
+“Are all here, all safe?” asked Raymond, as he stepped upon the sand.
+
+“All safe! thank God!” answered the skipper.
+
+“But you, Raymond, you are wounded!” said Hagar, laying her hand upon a
+bloodstained rent on the shoulder of his jacket. Even at her light touch
+he involuntarily shrank slightly as he replied—
+
+“Not much, dear Hagar.”
+
+“But you _are_,” said she, speaking rapidly, “you are pale and weak, you
+were thrown upon a sharp rock, your shoulder was struck and wounded; you
+have lost much blood; it crimsoned the wave when you first rose, though
+now it has been staunched by the cold water, and the stains are almost
+effaced—come home! oh, come! lean on my arm, Raymond, it is strong if it
+is a little one,—for once let me assist you as you have heretofore
+sustained me. Come, Raymond! come, brother! come!” and her wild eyes
+softened into gentleness, and her proud eyes into pleading, as, standing
+on a point of rock above him, she held down her hand imploringly, to
+assist in the ascent. He smiled gently, and man-like, scorned, while he
+could do without it, to receive from her the help he so much needed.
+Turning to the sailors, he told them to seek the Hall, pointing out the
+shortest path of ascent. They were quick in following his direction, and
+had reached the top of the heath and carried the news of the wreck, the
+preservation of the crew, and announced the arrival of Raymond Withers,
+while the latter was yet toiling, pale and nearly fainting, at the side
+of the cliff. Hagar climbed or waited, beside him. At length they
+reached the top, and paused. Raymond was breathless and reeling—his
+wound, started by his toil, was bleeding afresh.
+
+“My brother, why will you not let me help you?” pleaded Hagar, again
+offering her hand. He shook his head mournfully,—he was too faint to
+talk, and signed for her to lead the way to the hall, where he followed,
+painfully.
+
+In the closed and curtained chamber Mr. Withers slumbered. The noise of
+the storm faintly murmured through that inner room, only lulling him
+into deeper sleep. Sophie, in her reveries, had not thought of the
+possibility of a packet exposed to the storm, far less of Raymond’s
+danger; so that before she had thought of peril, the shipwrecked sailors
+stood before her, claiming shelter.
+
+Hagar and Raymond slowly approached the Hall, and entered it. “Now, dear
+Raymond, your father is sleeping, I think; go and change your clothes,
+and lie down and rest before you present yourself to him; your clothes
+are lost, I suppose; but come with me and I will show you into your
+father’s dressing-room; you can furnish yourself from his wardrobe.”
+Then seeing how pale he looked and noticing his bleeding wound, she
+hastily said;—“But oh! of what am I thinking? Let me call Sophie to
+dress your wound.” And conducting him into a dressing-room, she turned
+to leave him to summon Sophie. He had sunk exhausted into a deep chair,
+and holding out his arms, said, very calmly—
+
+“Come, Hagar, my little sister, you have given me no kiss of welcome
+since I came. Come, Hagar!” She started, turned, made one step towards
+him, paused, the blood rushed to her brow, then recovered herself, waved
+him a smiling denial, and left the room. And yet she had met the kiss of
+Gusty May with saucy cordiality.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XVIII.
+                           THE DEATH CHAMBER.
+
+                            “Death is the crown of life:
+           Were death denied, poor man would live in vain.
+           Death wounds to cure; we fall: we rise; we reign;
+           Spring from our fetters; fasten to the skies;
+           When blooming Eden freshens on our sight
+           This king of terrors is the prince of peace.”
+                                               YOUNG.
+
+
+Autumn had deadened into winter. The brilliant foliage of the autumn
+woods had been hurtled off and whirled away in the winter wind. The
+trees were bare, their branches like black ink tracings against a
+background of white. The river was frozen over, the creek was frozen
+over, the bay near the shore was crusted with ice. The ground was
+covered with snow—the sky was misty-white with clouds. In very pale
+colors was the winter landscape drawn—in very pale colors, like the
+white, wan face, and the blue-grey hair of a very old man. The pale
+cloud-mottled grey sky above; the pale green frozen bay and river, and
+the snowy ground with its black ink tracery of bare trees and forests,
+and its dark red square old Hall on the promontory. The white
+snow-clouds thickened in the air as the night fell on the 18th of
+December. The wind arose, and a driving snow-storm came on. And through
+the gathering darkness on the heath shone one beacon—a light in an upper
+chamber window of the hall. And towards it, through the driving storm,
+toiled one traveller,—a fat old gentleman on a fat old horse. It was Dr.
+Otterback on his way to the sick bed of Mr. Withers. The bishop had been
+on a tour of confirmation through his diocese, and was at that time
+sojourning over a Sabbath at Churchill’s Point. In a quarter of an hour
+more he was at the Hall, he was in the sick room. This was the scene. It
+was a large room, carpeted with a thick carpet that gave no sound to the
+footfall. The windows were curtained with dark heavy curtains, lined,
+that let no noise through them from without. A dim lamp sat on the
+hearth, and cast up high monstrous shadows to the ceiling, that loomed
+black through the dimmer darkness like shadows through the night, and
+swayed to and fro, and up and down, in the flare of the lamp. Without
+was softly heard the smothered sough of the wind and snow, like the sob
+of lost spirits wailing to enter. At the furthest end of the room from
+the windows, stood a tall, square, canopied bedstead, with the heavy
+curtains looped back to the head-posts. Upon it lies a dying man, and
+around him are gathered his family. Draw near, though it is a sight of
+anguish to see the death of a life that has been much error, and _all_
+bitterness. Draw near. His sallow face in its wreath of uncut black hair
+and whiskers, is drawn in strong relief against the pile of snow-white
+pillows that support his head. His sallow hands are laid out at length
+upon the dark coverlid. His eyes, small and black in the death
+intensity, now burn in the countenance of the bishop, who stands at the
+foot of the bed, repeating at intervals, in answer to that anguished
+gaze, such texts of Scripture as promise redemption by faith. On his
+right hand, within the shadow of the curtain, sits Sophie, very pale and
+still, her hands clasped with awe. On his left hand stands Raymond,
+leaning his elbow on the head-board and bowing his face upon his open
+hand, while the heave and fall of his chest silently betray the son’s
+sorrow for the father. By the side of Raymond, and with her fingers
+clasped in his hand, which he presses from time to time as a surge of
+emotion agitates him, stands Hagar; but her crimson cheek and glittering
+eye display more excitement than awe, in the death scene she witnesses.
+
+“You love him, Hagar!” at last very low whispered the dying man. Hagar’s
+cheek paled, while her fingers quivered slightly in the hand of Raymond.
+“Love him—_gently_, Hagar,” then he said, and turned his eyes on Sophie,
+while his sallow hand crept by the fingers towards her. She saw and
+raised the hand, rubbed it, pressed it between her own, but it grew
+colder in her clasp.
+
+“Good-bye, my guardian angel,” he said very softly, and turned his
+troubled eye again upon the bishop. Sophie saw that troubled glance, and
+silently prayed that the perturbed spirit might pass in peace. At last
+at a motion from the bishop all sank upon their knees. But Sophie, while
+she knelt, could not withdraw her gaze from the eyes that still hopeless
+sought comfort in _her_ eyes. The prayers for the dying were commenced,
+and as they progressed Sophie loved to see the anguish of expression
+soften away from his face—his brow grew calm, his eye steady, and she
+felt that at last his soul had found peace in believing. It was in a
+smile his eyes faded away from hers—in a smile that his spirit passed
+away, as sometimes after a stormy day the sun glances out beneath a bank
+of clouds, and smiling a good night, sinks. When they arose from their
+knees, the clay was vacant. The bishop closed the empty eyes, and then
+by a motion marshalled the family all from the room. Raymond at once
+sought his own chamber. The bishop followed Sophie into the parlor.
+Hagar went out into the dining-room to assist Mrs. Buncombe, who was now
+at the Hall, taking charge of its housekeeping just at this crisis. The
+tea-table was being set in great style under her direction—this was in
+honor of the bishop’s presence in the house. Hagar at once lent her a
+cheerful assistance. She began powdering some delicate tarts with loaf
+sugar. Thus life and death, luxury and decay, the table and the coffin,
+the most awful event of a lifetime, the most trivial occurrences of the
+moment, jostle each other, nor may either be entirely crowded off the
+stage of existence. Mrs. Buncombe looked very grave, and at last she
+said half reprovingly to Hagar,
+
+“You seem very cheerful, Hagar, while your uncle lies in the agonies of
+death!”
+
+“I should not be cheerful if he were in the agonies of death—he is
+released, and there was no agony. I could not have believed that a
+spirit could have been withdrawn from the body with so little pain to
+either!”
+
+“And so he is gone!” said Emily, in a tone of pity. “So he is gone.
+Well, ‘after life’s fitful fever he sleeps well!’ peace be with him!”
+
+“Yes, peace be with him. May his cradle be soft—may his nurses be
+tender—may his parents be gentle and wise, and may his present life—the
+life just commenced—be happier than his past pilgrimage, the life just
+closed!”
+
+She had spoken earnestly.
+
+“Why, what in the name of heaven are you talking of, Hagar?” asked
+Emily, in astonishment.
+
+“Of the man just dead, and the babe just born!”
+
+“I believe you are crazy, Hagar!—at least any one who did not know you
+as well as I know you, would believe so. What do you mean by such
+language?”
+
+She had finished setting the table, and had now sat down by the fire.
+Hagar was standing by her, leaning with her back against the side of the
+mantel-piece.
+
+“This is what I mean: there is no death, but only change. I do not see
+death. I cannot find death anywhere in the world. I see change, but no
+destruction—no, not even loss of identity. See how one principle—any
+principle in chemistry, for instance, will pass through a thousand
+media, assuming a thousand forms, but not losing itself, not changing
+its own individuality. Yes, one principle will pass through the mineral,
+vegetable, and animal kingdoms, and pass again circulating for ever
+without losing itself. And so with our spirit, as it struggles up
+through hardest, seemingly deadest forms of existence, to its human
+form; and from the lowest human nature up to the highest; from the
+savage to the civilized man; and from a common-place civilized man, up
+to a Howard or a Fenelon; and from a Howard, perhaps, to an angel, but
+always with more or less speed—_up! up!_—never falling, never losing,
+never retrograding, relapsing. Thus, a soul that has passed through the
+schooling of civilization, never, never in its transmigrations, relapses
+into the body of a savage. I stood by and watched the passing away of
+uncle’s spirit, and wondered to see Christians looking so sad, as though
+it were annihilation and not a journey; as though they did not see that
+God was wise enough, and good enough, and potent enough to take care of
+the soul He had brought thus far in its course. I stood by, thinking
+that around some other bed some other people were gathered, awaiting the
+arrival of a newborn infant, and that when the wail of sorrow arose in
+this room for the dead, the voice of rejoicing would be heard in that
+room for the newborn! And I watched in eagerness, in excitement, but not
+in sorrow, not in regret. Could _I_ regret that his spirit was withdrawn
+from its present racked and ruined home? No, I am glad!” she said, with
+dancing eyes.
+
+“And you really believe that, Hagar? I mean your theory of
+transmigration?”
+
+“Believe—believe,” said she, musing; “no, it does not amount to belief,
+and yet it is _more_. It is not a belief, a creed; it is a feeling, an
+impression, and a very strong conviction. To me, spiritual intuitions
+are more convincing than rational deductions. Heart convictions stronger
+than brain convictions.”
+
+“Alas! Hagar, the neglect of your infancy will never, _never_ be made up
+to you. Poor girl, your mind strays off into the wildest vagaries.
+Hagar, you should read your Bible more.”
+
+“I do read my Bible,” said Hagar, “but no _commentaries_ on it; the
+Bible itself is my commentary on nature; it interprets myself and the
+universe to me.”
+
+“You find nothing like what you fancy in the Bible.”
+
+“I find nothing that contradicts it there.”
+
+“I must get Mr. Buncombe to talk to you, Hagar.”
+
+Hagar smiled derisively.
+
+“Yes, I _will_, and I can talk to you myself; ‘There is an appointed
+time for man to die, and _after death the judgment_;’ mind, it does not
+say, after death a transmigration.”
+
+“No,” said Hagar, “it says, ‘after death—_the judgment_’—that very
+judgment may remand the soul back to earth for another probation!”
+
+“You horrify me, you positively do horrify me, Hagar!”
+
+“You horrify _me_, when you tell me that for the sins, or errors, or
+_mistakes_ even, of some sixteen or sixty years, my soul must wail in
+perdition, through the countless ages of eternity—no, no!—no, no! My
+Father!” said the wild girl, kindling into enthusiasm, “Thou never
+did’st create a soul to let it drop into the abyss—_lost_! It may take a
+long time to teach—a long time to redeem that soul—to perfect that
+soul—many times may it be remanded back to the clay—many weary
+pilgrimages may it make on earth, but the work will never be abandoned;
+the work will be accomplished. Christ did not live, and teach, and
+suffer, and die in vain—His lesson will be learned at last.”
+
+“My poor Hagar,” said Emily, fervently, “may you yet learn _His_ lesson!
+He who came to light up that darkness of the grave which the eye of man
+could not penetrate—to substitute for the thousand wild fancies, such as
+yours, of Heathenism, the holy Truth of God—He, whom you so rashly
+invoke, has said—do you not remember it, Hagar?—
+
+“‘And he shall set the sheep on His right hand, but the goats on the
+left.
+
+“‘Then shall the King say unto them on the right hand, Come, ye blessed
+of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation
+of the world.
+
+“‘Then shall He also say unto them on the left hand, Depart from me, ye
+cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels.
+
+“‘_And these shall go away into everlasting punishment; but the
+righteous into life eternal!_’
+
+“Ah, my poor, dear Hagar, how little these wild fancies of yours will
+bestead you in the trials and temptations of life. Oh! what an untrimmed
+vine you are, Hagar! May the pruning knife of God’s providence gently,
+very gently, remove all this bad over-growth.”
+
+Hagar’s fierce eyes flashed defiance at her monitress; but just then a
+vision of Raymond, in his lonely grief—of Raymond, the only
+heart-stricken mourner for the dead, passed before her mind’s eye; the
+fierceness softened in her eyes, and she glided from the room. Just at
+that moment tea was brought in, and Mr. Buncombe and Dr. Otterback
+summoned to the table, and with Emily, gathered around it.
+
+Hagar glided like a spirit up the long staircase. The storm had passed,
+and the moon was shining through the windows. She passed into an upper
+room. A dark figure intercepted at the window the rays of the moon. A
+dark figure sitting alone, with head dropped upon the arms that, folded,
+rested on the window-sill. Very softly she approached, and stood by him
+in silence. He felt her approach, however, and turning around, passed
+his arm around her waist, and, drawing her up to his side, murmured—
+
+“My own dear Hagar, you have come to me at last; you are here at last;
+why did you not come before?”
+
+“Because _then_, Raymond, I was in no condition to give you comfort in
+the mood _you_ then were; my mind was excited, enthusiastic. I could not
+feel this passing away as anything but a relief—a glory—could not think
+of it as anything to mourn for, but rather to rejoice at. Why, Raymond,
+death has been called a ‘leap in the dark,’ but to me it seems a bound
+in the light!”
+
+“Ah, but Hagar,—the flesh—the flesh—I loved my father so much; I loved
+him for all his sorrows, and because he found favor in no other heart. I
+suffered so much at the banishment endured for his sake, and now I come
+home only to light him down to the grave.”
+
+“Raymond, when you left here, some years ago, you left your cast off
+raiment in your chamber, and they packed it down in a trunk. When you
+stepped aboard the boat that carried you to the packet, I, impatient
+child! threw myself down, and screamed in anguish, at parting from my
+brother, or stretching out my arms beseechingly, called you to come
+back. Now, Raymond, according to your creed, I had better have gone and
+cast myself across your trunk—the grave of your cast off dress, and
+howled for Raymond, _coffined within_.”
+
+Raymond again answered her, for his was not after all that deep, _deep_
+grief which plunges its victim into silence.
+
+“I loved that soul-raiment—I loved that thin and wrinkled hand, that
+lately deprecated harsh judgment while it caressed me—I loved that
+tortured face, traversed as it was by its thousand seams of thought or
+suffering, and that slow pausing step. I loved it all—but _you_, Hagar,
+a woman—a girl, a young girl, and yet you have so little
+_tenderness_—the falcon, not the dove!”
+
+Hagar, at once spirited and delicate, did not repel this charge, nor did
+her mind fly back to the many nights of sleeplessness she had passed in
+the sick chamber of his father while Raymond slumbered soundly in his
+bed; nor did she know that though she had felt very _tenderly_ she had
+acted _kindly_, while the son who really loved his father so tenderly
+loved _himself_ as well, and took his rest.
+
+“Have I hurt you, Hagar?” at last he said gently.
+
+“No, I do not know that you have.”
+
+“_Have_ I hurt you, Hagar?” he said, now sadly.
+
+“No, no; I am not sensitive—not very tender of myself any more than of
+others. No, you do not understand me—that I feel _life_ so much more
+than death—so much _life_ everywhere. Why, Raymond, my feeling about _my
+own death_ is that of escape, flight, revel in liberty and light. I
+stand upon the banks of our river sometimes, and feel like gathering
+myself up for a leap across the flood; yet there I stand, fast fettered
+by flesh. I stand some mornings at early dawn at my chamber window, and,
+gazing rapturously at the morning star, my spirit uneasily flaps its
+wings for a flight! Yet there I stand fast tied to the body; so wild and
+strong is the spirit, and so heavy and fast its chains.”
+
+Yes, she spoke truly—so wild, and strong, and fierce was the spirit,
+whose fire was to be quenched in tears of blood dropped slowly from the
+heart.
+
+Sophie now came in, and observing Hagar, said,
+
+“Ah! it is right for you to be here, my love; we have a common sorrow,
+and I feel that _I_ should not have gone apart;” and she sat down with
+them.
+
+The funeral of John Huss Withers took place on the fifth day from his
+death. Dr. Otterbuck remained to officiate. Mr. Buncombe of course
+succeeded him in the rectorship of the parish of the Crucifixion. It was
+during this visit of the bishop that the Parish Church, enlarged and
+repaired, was re-christened and dedicated under the name of the
+Ascension. This was done through the suggestion of Mr. Buncombe and the
+vestry. A year passed away.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XIX.
+                               THE CHASE.
+
+              “Listening how the hounds and horn
+              Cheerily rouse the slumbering morn,
+              From the side of some hoar hill
+              Through the high wood echoing shrill.”
+                                                  MILTON.
+
+
+The forest rang with the cry of the hounds and the shout of the
+huntsmen. And now the sounds would die away and now peal out upon the
+air as the chase still kept up the winding course of the river towards
+its head. One foremost in the chase drew rein upon the brink of an awful
+chasm, a deep rocky gorge full of pointed crags, among which the torrent
+roared and whirled in an agony of haste to escape from the torture. It
+was Hagar, who, with wild heart, fierce eye, and crimsoned cheek, drew
+up upon the brink. Behind her thundered the steed of one, whom hearing,
+she looked behind, reined back her hunter on his haunches, and giving
+him a cheer and shout, cleared the chasm at a bound. It was an awful
+leap. The hoofs of the horse just grazed the edges of the rocks as he
+planted them firmly and struggled up the bank.
+
+The other rider, who was no other than our friend, Gusty May, paused
+breathless on the rocky ledge and gazed at her. Her steed was dancing on
+the opposite bluff, her form was exultant, her eye flashing. Raising her
+riding cap above her head, she waved it in the air, and, with a joyous
+shout of defiance, shot down the ravine and disappeared.
+
+“Devil fetch that girl!—God bless her!—she’ll break my heart or her own
+neck, or both, yet!—I know she will! Now what the deuce is to be done?
+My horse can never take that leap—never!—the attempt would be certain
+death to both. But then if I shirk it, she will say—I know she will—the
+little limb of Old Scratch!—that I was afraid.” Gusty was in a perfect
+puzzle. “If there were an _equal_ chance now of life and death one might
+venture, but as it is—pshaw!” And so muttering, he turned his horse’s
+head, and rode up the course of the stream to where the chasm was
+narrow, and over which a rude bridge had been constructed.
+
+Hagar was the first in at the death—down in the dark ravine. Other
+hunters approached rapidly from other points, and last, upon account of
+his delay at the gorge, up rode Gusty May, just in time to see the
+hunters separate, and to attend Hagar to Heath Hall.
+
+Seeing the intense mortification depicted in his countenance, she turned
+her wild eyes on him kindly, and said,
+
+“You must get a better hunter, Gusty; I could not have spurred that
+steed to the leap.”
+
+They rode on up the dark ravine until it emerged into the sunlight, then
+they ambled over the heath towards the Hall; many clumps of trees
+diversified the rolling surface of the heath, and as they emerged from
+these, Gusty suddenly laid his hand upon Hagar’s bridle and, growing
+very red in the face, dropped it again, sighing like a sough of wind in
+the main-sail. Surprised, Hagar looked at him, which look did not
+recompose his nerves at all. He stopped his horse. Hagar shot on before.
+He set spurs to his horse and bounded after her. With a sudden freak the
+wild girl gave rein to her horse and fled over the heath. Piqued, Gusty
+drew up and ambled along at dignified leisure. After racing to the end
+of her course, Hagar whirled about and came galloping back. Gusty
+awaited her, and then they paced on together in silence, until at length
+Gusty spoke out with the air of a youth who had made up his mind _to_
+speak, let the consequences be what they might.
+
+“Yes, I _will_ speak, Hagar! You _must_ hear; though you cut so many
+shines, it is very difficult to get the chance to say a word. Hem!
+Hagar!”
+
+“Well, Master Gusty! I’m all attention.”
+
+“Well, then, I like you!”
+
+“Why, so I always flattered myself.”
+
+“Well, but I’m not joking—I _do_—I _do indeed_. I be whipped if I
+don’t!”
+
+“Really!”
+
+“Yes—and—”
+
+“Well!”
+
+“I like you more and more!”
+
+“’Pon honor, now?”
+
+“Yes, I do, Hagar. Oh! don’t look at me, you wicked witch! I like you
+so—so much! God Almighty _knows_ I do! better than I like my ship!”
+
+“Come!” said Hagar, seriously, almost sadly, “tell me what is there you
+like about me? liking is not to be lightly thrown away, if it be well
+based—come!”
+
+“Well, there is a—a—an attraction—a something in your face that
+fascinates—that—that _draws_, that _pulls_, that _nails_, that _rivets_,
+as it were!”
+
+The girl turned her sparkling face up to the sun, to hide the smile that
+was breaking through it, while she said,
+
+“Come, say that over again! Let’s hear it again, Gusty!”
+
+“Pshaw! Hagar, be serious—I love you—by my soul’s honor I do,
+Hagar!—truly, deeply, fervently! Look at me, Hagar; let me see your
+face. You are silent—you turn it quite away!” and he suddenly wheeled
+around and confronted her. “You are laughing, hard, hard girl!
+Kite’s-heart, you are laughing!”
+
+And now she flashed the full light of her eyes in his face, as she said,
+
+“I don’t know how it is that I always laugh when other people would cry.
+I believe I am a lineal descendant of the laughing philosopher. Now,
+Gusty, my childhood’s friend, I am laughing at your phantasy. You do
+_not_ love me; it is a mere illusion of the imagination. Your heart is
+cheating itself with the semblance of love, in default of the
+substance.”
+
+“How do you know that, Hagar?”
+
+“By my own heart. Love, _love_ is always mutual! and in my heart lives
+no love for you beyond the sisterly affection I must ever feel; but
+that, Gusty, is deeper and stronger than often sisters feel for
+brothers. But when you talk to me of other love, you shock and repulse
+me; and that, Gusty, teaches me that _you_ do not really love me, but
+are only self-deceived by ‘the strong necessity of loving,’ that ‘strong
+necessity of loving’ that leads so many impatient hearts to ruin.
+Listen, Gusty. Marriages are made in heaven, but most marriages are
+seldom consummated. God, who doeth all things well, places on earth the
+mutual instincts of attraction in such souls as are intended for each
+other. In the whirl and jostle of this world, it is often that these
+souls never meet, but it is oftener that the impatience of the heart to
+_love_ and to _be_ loved, leads it into the delusion that it _does_ love
+and _is_ loved. Wait, Gusty; do not add to the confusion by marrying
+when you only fancy you love. Wait, and your chance of meeting your own
+will be greater!”
+
+“But, my heart, my heart!” said Gusty.
+
+“Oh, your heart, your heart! _Still_ the wailing of the spoiled child if
+you can, but do not let it have the serpent it cries for—illusory love!”
+
+“You, who know so much about love, whom do you love, Hagar?”
+
+The color deepened to crimson on the girl’s dark cheek, and touching her
+horse, she rode forward. He followed, and again overtaking her, said,
+
+“Hagar, you have talked a great deal of nonsense. You say that love is
+always mutual?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“And that a one-sided love is an illusion?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“How comes it, then, that this one-sided love, this illusion, is
+sometimes so strong as to drive its victim to madness or suicide?”
+
+“In the first place, Gusty, all that _appears_ to be one-sided love, is
+_not so_. Love is often returned where it is not acknowledged—often
+proffered where it is not felt; there is so much false semblance in the
+world; and then again, Gusty, the fact of the one-sided love _being_ an
+illusion is the great cause of its eventuating in insanity. Moral
+illusions, mental illusions, are only other names for insanity.”
+
+They rode on towards the Hall in silence; then suddenly out spoke Gusty
+with energy, and said
+
+“Hagar, this is all phantasy of _yours_, not of mine. I love you—I wish
+to pass my life with you—now do not tell me that my case is hopeless.
+Hagar! do not—I will be so patient, although mother used to say that I
+was Gusty by name and Gusty by nature. Come, Hagar, let me hope, and I
+will be so—”
+
+She wheeled her horse suddenly around, and, confronting him, said, very
+earnestly,
+
+“Gusty, you must never think of me as a wife, for I can never love you
+as a wife.”
+
+“Oh, Hagar, if you would only try to like me a little—”
+
+“_Try!_” exclaimed the wild girl, and her laugh rang out upon the air,
+awaking the echoes, “_Try!_—there, I said you knew nothing about
+love—_Try!_”
+
+“Then _you_ know something of it, you have given your heart to another.
+Come, Hagar, if you want to put me out of my misery by one stunning
+blow, say that! say that!”
+
+But Hagar sprang from his side, and trotted quickly into the yard of the
+Hall, kissing her hand to him as she went. He looked after her, doubting
+whether to follow her in or not. Finally, he slowly turned aside, and
+slowly paced his horse off to his mother’s cottage.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+Grove Cottage was lighted up, and the lights glimmered through the
+intervening trees, as he rode up the grape walk, towards the door.
+Dismounting, and giving his horse in charge of a boy, he passed through
+the parlor into his own room immediately, scarcely noticing by a bow the
+rector or his mother, who were seated there. But the eyes of his mother
+saw his disturbance. She arose and followed him into the room. Gusty was
+sitting down on the foot of his bed, holding his temples together
+between his two hands.
+
+“What is the matter, Augustus, my dear? does your head ache?”
+
+Gusty did not reply.
+
+“_What_ is the matter, Gusty?” again she inquired, stooping down near
+him till the ends of her ringlets (for she still wore her hair in
+ringlets) brushed his cheek.
+
+“A _coup-de-soleil, belle-mère, un coup-de-soleil_.”
+
+“Gracious goodness! my dear, I never heard of such a thing at this
+season of the year! You must have your feet bathed, and ice on your
+head,” and she was hurrying off to get the requisites.
+
+“Come back, _petite maman_, the _coup-de-soleil_ flashed from Hagar
+Churchill’s eyes of fire, and struck my heart; bring ice for my heart,
+dear mother, or rather _no_, she administered enough of that,” said he,
+in a lachrymose tone. Emily Buncombe had stopped, turned round and stood
+still to hear him. When he ceased, she set the candle down on his
+dressing-table, and sitting down by his side, she said,
+
+“Indeed, I really was afraid of this—so you have lost your affections to
+Hagar?”
+
+“Couldn’t help it, mother dear.”
+
+“Gusty! you know I love you.” Gusty looked up inquiringly. “I am the
+best friend you have in the world, am I not?”
+
+“My dear mother.”
+
+“And I would not call upon you to make a sacrifice for _my_ sake, or for
+anything except duty, and your own happiness?”
+
+“Mother!”
+
+“Well, Gusty, I beg that you will give up all idea of Hagar.”
+
+“Alas! mother, she has told me as much herself.”
+
+“I am very glad of that.”
+
+“Yes, mother, _that_ was the sun stroke.”
+
+“You must not think of her any more, Gusty.”
+
+“What is the use of telling me _that_, mother, when she has rejected
+me?”
+
+“Oh!” said the mother, with maternal pique, “as to her _rejecting_ you,
+Gusty, _that_ was a girlish air—nine girls out of ten reject their
+lovers at first to try them—_you_ must resign her.”
+
+But Gusty heard nothing but the first part of the speech—jumping up, he
+caught his mother around the neck and gave her a boisterous kiss, caught
+her up in his arms, ran around the room with her, set her down,
+exclaiming,
+
+“Jupiter Tonnerre! mother, you have given me so much life, strength,
+force—what shall I do with it till to-morrow when I can carry it to
+Heath Hall and lay it at Hagar’s feet, say, mother! have you got a cord
+of wood to cut, a forest to fell—a—a—Lord! mother, if I could get hold
+of this earth I feel strong enough to hurl it through space!”
+
+Now he was walking up and down with glowing cheeks and dancing eye,
+swinging his arms and bringing his hands together with a clap, and
+turning off impatiently where the walls of the short room arrested him,
+just as you have seen a wild beast chafe in his cell. And Emily walked
+up and down uneasily behind him. At last he threw himself heavily in a
+chair. Emily came to him.
+
+“So, mother, girls mean ‘yes’ when they say ‘no,’ you can vouch for that
+by your own experience, hey, mother?”
+
+Emily had seen her mistake in having suggested this, and it added to her
+uneasiness.
+
+“Gusty,” she said, “whatever Hagar might have meant by her ‘no,’ that
+‘no’ has fully exonerated you, if your rather emphatic attentions had
+raised hopes in her bosom. You must give up all attentions to her for
+many reasons.”
+
+“And how coolly you say that! Great God! how coolly you say that! As if
+you had spoken of the mere bagatelle of giving up my _life_, of the mere
+trifle of losing my _soul_. _Hagar!_ Stop, mother, let me hold my head
+tightly—there! so! now perhaps it won’t divide through the top—now,
+mother, tell me why must I give up Hagar?”
+
+“First and least, you are not rich, and Hagar is poor. Miss Churchill is
+the sole heiress of Heath Hall and the contiguous estate; that sounds
+very grandly, but just consider that Heath Hall is a ruin that daily
+threatens to topple down upon and entomb alive its proprietor, and that
+the Heath itself is now an irreclaimable desert.”
+
+“Dearest mother, that is not like you—Hagar’s poverty! I wish—I wish she
+was nameless as well as penniless, and I wish I was commander-in-chief
+of the American army, so that I might have everything to give her, and
+she everything to receive from me.”
+
+“But it is not so, you see, Gusty; for though she may have plenty of
+need, you have nothing to bestow, you also are poor!”
+
+“Poor! _me_ poor! Mother, where am I poor at?” exclaimed Gusty, starting
+up and stretching himself—“_me poor!_ with all this strength to
+struggle, and the world to struggle against! Oh! for God’s sake, stand
+out of my way everybody! give me room! swing! sweep! lest I hurt some
+one unintentionally! I feel like Strong-back in the fairy tale, and I
+wish some one would commission me to take an island up out of the
+Atlantic and carry it across the American continent to the Pacific; or,
+mother, would you like an iceberg for a butter-cooler, or mother, say
+the word and I’ll bring you the North pole for a churning stick. And
+then, mother, I have so much faith. Hurrah! Hallelujah! haven’t I faith!
+God bless you, mother, I have ‘the faith to move mountains,’ for look
+you, mother, when I say to the mountain, ‘Be thou removed and be thou
+cast into the midst of the sea,’ I lay right hold of the mountain bodily
+and hurl it into the water myself, to put life into faith, for ‘faith
+without work is dead,’ and ‘God helps those who help themselves.’”
+
+Emily looked at him gravely and said,
+
+“That is from Hagar, that wild perverted spirit will ruin you! Oh you
+irreverend boy, what would your sainted father say if he could see you
+and hear you.”
+
+“Don’t you suppose he _does_ see and hear me, mother? _I_ do.”
+
+“I hope he watches over you. I hope his spirit will stand between you
+and that wild dark girl.”
+
+“That Hagar of the lightning! That electric Hagar whose touch might
+kindle a statue to life! Talk of a galvanic battery! Why, mother,
+everything that passes from her hands to mine is galvanized! That
+magnetic Hagar! why, mother, everything of hers is magnetized so that it
+sticks to my fingers, and I am obliged to carry it off—her glove, her
+tiny shoe, the eagle feather she wore in her riding cap. I shall be
+taken up for petty larceny yet. Hagar the magnet! Hagar the North star,
+who draws me involuntarily, inevitably after her!”
+
+“She did not draw you across Devil’s Gorge this afternoon,” said Emily,
+maliciously. Gusty wilted down all of a sudden.
+
+“Mother, who told you _that_?”
+
+“Why everybody, it is all over the neighborhood, how in _our_ woods the
+witch didn’t pursue Tam O’Shanter, but Tam O’Shanter the witch, and how
+she carried all his courage with her when she swept across the gorge.
+Come, Mr. Gusty, you have been talking very grandly, sublimely, about
+strength, and force, and impetuosity, and irresistibility, but I have
+heard very loud thunder before now that did very little damage!”
+
+“So! but you never heard very loud thunder that did not do a great deal
+of _good_! Ha! I have you there, _maman_! but never mind, mother, next
+time I ride a hunt with Hagar I’ll follow her through fire and blood,
+now mind if I don’t. I’ll purchase a hunter, then see!”
+
+“Then see you’ll break your neck; but I have a worse fear for you than
+that, Gusty, a far worse fear for you than that. This Hagar, she is the
+talk of the whole neighborhood; her eccentricity, her improprieties,
+expose her to severe animadversions.”
+
+“Her originality you mean; her independence; her free, strong, glorious
+spirit! Oh! Hagar is a chamois! you cannot expect her to trot demurely
+to the music of her own grunting, from trough to straw, like any pig!
+Hagar is an eagle! you must not look to find her waddling lazily and
+feeding fatly with barnyard ducks and geese.”
+
+“A pretty way to speak of your neighbors, Mr. May.”
+
+“Well, then, let them let Hagar alone! Mother!” said Gusty, drawing in
+his breath _hard_ between his teeth, “the anger heats and swells in my
+heart like kindling fire in a bombshell, till it tears and splits and
+flashes, until I feel the fire and see the lightning, and some of these
+days it will explode and blow myself and some others up! when I hear
+these domestic animals sitting in sage judgment on my wild deer of the
+mountains! these barn-door poultry cackling their comments on my falcon
+sailing towards the sun! Pish! pshaw! tush! tut!” exclaimed Gusty,
+jumping up in a heat, and walking the floor.
+
+“Pretty way to talk of your neighbors again, I say, Mr. May!”
+
+“Well, then, let them let Hagar ALONE!” thundered Gusty, bringing his
+hand down on the table like a hammer on the anvil. “Beg your pardon,
+mother, I did not mean that _to_ you, but _of_ them; and if that old
+gander Gardiner Green don’t make his goose and gosling stop cackling
+about Hagar, he’ll get his neck twisted for him!”
+
+Now Emily laughed—
+
+“Poor Gardiner Green, it would be a sin and a shame to persecute him for
+what he has no hand in and can’t help. Don’t you know how he fears his
+wife?”
+
+“Does—does he? very well, I’ll meet fear with fear; he shall fear
+something else worse than his wife!”
+
+“Now, very seriously, Augustus, you will afflict me very much, if you
+commit any folly for the sake of Hagar Churchill.”
+
+“But I love Hagar Churchill—love her! sympathize with her.”
+
+“She has no pity for herself, why should others pity her?”
+
+“_Pity! pity!_ did I say _pity_, mother? pity Hagar Churchill! _pity_
+that proud, free, glad spirit!”
+
+“Yes, _pity her_! that ‘proud, free, glad spirit’ is clothed with
+woman’s deep affections, prisoned in _woman’s_ fragile form, environed
+by woman’s circumstances, and chafes against them all—would break
+through them all! will break through them all! and then, high as that
+proud spirit soars, though her wings should glance in the atmosphere
+around the sun’s disk, she will be beaten back and down—_down!_ Glad as
+that high heart throbs, it will yet beat sobs that throw out tears for
+blood! Wide as that wild spirit wanders, it will yet cower, moaning upon
+the waste hearth of home.”
+
+“Good God, mother, what makes you talk so? If I thought that, I would
+scale the eyrie of the eagle, and carry off Hagar to some sweet South
+sea summer isle, where she should reign another Queen Eve over another
+Eden.”
+
+“Are we to have any supper to-night, Emily?” sang out Mr. Buncombe from
+the parlor.
+
+“Yes! I’m coming—think no more of this Hagar.”
+
+“But, mother,” interrupted Gusty, “_why_ do you have such dreadful
+forebodings for Hagar?”
+
+“I judge her fate by herself, her future by her past and present, and I
+say that, unless Providence interposes to save her as by fire, Hagar’s
+fierce, strong spirit will break her own heart and destroy her own soul!
+Come to supper.”
+
+“Destroy her own soul—come to supper—that’s a pretty brace of subjects
+to tie together, is it not now?” said Gusty.
+
+It must not be supposed that Emily had any unfriendly feelings towards
+Hagar. She did not love Hagar less, but Gusty more. And acting like a
+sober, prudent mother, she did not choose to permit Gusty to marry a
+girl who was fully as much censured as admired in the neighborhood.
+
+After supper she talked with him again, talked earnestly and for a long
+time, until Gusty rising, said,—
+
+“Seriously, mother, you ask too much—too much of me; you, with your
+cool, temperate nature, cannot sympathize with my ardent heart. Alas!
+how should you?—you, who at eighteen could marry a man of sixty (no
+disrespect, mother—I venerate my sainted father’s memory—I talk reason,
+but not disrespect)—you, I say, who could at eighteen wed a man of
+sixty, and be happy with him—you who at twenty-five, in your young
+widowhood, could keep a young lover waiting ten years, until your son
+grew up—you with your cheerful, serene temperament, how can you conceive
+my sufferings if severed from Hagar? My love for Hagar, if die it must,
+will die hard—dreadful will be its death throes; but you, mother, how
+can your quiet heart conceive of this—sympathize with this?”
+
+“A still heart is not always a _cold_ heart, Gusty, or even a _quiet_
+heart. I have tamed my heart to the will of Providence—I have learned in
+His school, and thrown down in impatience no task that He has set
+me—rebelled against no discipline He has ordained for me; and my life
+has gone smoothly, pleasantly, happily. I have gained some calm wisdom;
+I am thirty-six years old, yet my face is as smooth, my eye as clear, my
+hair as black and moist as in girlhood. I have minded God for my father,
+and He has very gently led me up the steeps of life. Believe me, Gusty,
+it is our rebellion against Him that makes all our troubles. God’s will
+is paramount, absolute, its end is our good, and He will keep us in our
+path if it be by ‘a hedge of thorns;’ seek to escape God’s providence
+and in your struggle you break and bruise yourself, and lose your
+strength. If, in the words of Scripture, you ‘kick against the pricks,’
+you will be wounded. It rests with us, Gusty, to go God’s way willingly
+and pleasantly, or to go in it rebelliously and painfully, for go God’s
+way we must. The further we stray from it the longer and more fearful
+will be the forced journey back to it and the more we wrestle against
+God’s laws and will, the more fatigued and bruised we will be, of course
+without the glory and the anguish of coming off victors. Now, Gusty,
+_my_ faith in God was only lip-acknowledged, before a slight
+circumstance made it heartfelt. It was this:—You were an infant of six
+weeks old. You had a tumor rising under your ear. It grew very large and
+painful. When I had to dress it it put you in an agony, and you would
+struggle violently and look up into my face with an imploring,
+reproachful expression, as though you would inquire _why I_ tortured
+you—_I_ whom you depended upon and whom you loved, and who loved you—why
+_I_, your mother, tortured you. That was your expression—I read it
+plainly in your countenance, Gusty, and I wept at your silent reproach.
+Your father was standing by me, and he said, ‘Emily, what is it?’ I
+replied, ‘I weep—I weep because this child cannot understand that I
+_must_ do this—that I _pain_ him to _cure_ him.’ But while I spoke,
+Gusty, darted down this truth into my heart-strings from Heaven. And so
+God, the pitiful father, wounds to heal His children, and would make
+them understand, but that they are querulous and still cry ‘why, why
+suffering? since God has power and love?’ Alas! we cannot understand,
+the dulness is ours, or we _must_ not understand, for the probation is
+ours, for some reason that will one day be revealed. It may be not from
+the deficiency of God’s power or will to reveal, but from a deficiency
+of our ability now to receive the revelation of the secret of suffering;
+and we wait or rebel—struggle against or reproach Providence for
+suffering, even as the tortured, writhing, and screaming child silently
+reproached its loving and grieving mother for her tender dressing of its
+tumor. God doeth all things well; that truth has calmed my heart, made
+my life serene and happy.”
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XX.
+                              THE LOVERS.
+
+             “A brow of beautiful, yet earnest thought,
+             A form of manly grace.”
+                                                 SIGOURNEY.
+
+             “That fearful love which trembles in the eyes,
+             And with a silent earthquake shakes the soul.”
+                                                 DRYDEN.
+
+
+They sat under the shed of the piazza at Heath Hall—Raymond and Hagar—in
+the same piazza that had been the stage of so many scenes of
+selfishness, tyranny, and violence—of weak resistance, or of weaker
+compliance—across the floor of which the long shadow of Withers had been
+thrown as he passed in his ghostly wooing of Sophie; before the steps of
+which the pale wanderer had paused to warn in her flight towards
+death—through which the corpse of the sinner, sufferer, and suicide, had
+been borne to the inquest—in which the declaration of love and
+despairing parting had occurred between Sophie Churchill and Augustus
+Wilde—through which Raymond had flown to pick up Hagar, when in maniac
+violence Mr. Withers had hurled her through the open window—lastly,
+through which the corpse of the poor lunatic had been carried, the
+shadow seeming to pass from the house at the same time. All was very
+quiet now. It was Spring, and the moon was shining down through the
+trellis work and vines, and the moonlight, agitated by the shadows of
+the leaves that quivered in the breeze, trembled on the floor. They sat
+together on the bench at one of the extremities of the piazza. Hagar sat
+erect—leaned back against the balustrade; her fingers were slightly
+clasped, and her fierce eyes burning into the opposite vines. Yet the
+wild girl was very gentle now; the brave girl timid; her venture was—not
+life and limb—that Hagar would at any time risk, with a kindling, not a
+smouldering cheek; her venture was—her affections!—that heart, once so
+keenly sensitive—that heart which in infancy had been stung and
+embittered until it had at last grown stiff as any other muscle under
+the action of any other bitter tonic poison! that among the forest rocks
+and streams had grown so healthy! so joyous! It was such a free, brave,
+leaping heart, that its prison-chest would scarce contain it!—it would
+leap, though, and soar to the clouds!—it did send its owner on horseback
+bounding over awful chasms, leaping five-barred gates, thundering down
+frightful descents, and sing with gladness when the feat was done! But
+now this jubilant heart was slowly trembling like a balloon in its
+descent to earth, or a wounded bird that slowly flapping its wings
+falls, and falls. Its wild liberty was going—gone. Yes, her liberty of
+thought and action was gone; no one ventured to advise, to reprove, to
+oppose the young mistress of Heath Hall; yet she felt reproof,
+opposition, powerfully. There were no substantial fetters of steel or
+iron on her slender wrists and ankles, yet the fetters encircled her
+free limbs notwithstanding! Listen, dear reader, while I tell you how
+Hagar—queen of woods and waves—Hagar, _là lionnesse de chase_,
+discovered that though no one rebuked her by word, gesture, or glance,
+she was no longer her own mistress; that she had to contend for her
+freedom, not “with flesh and blood,” but with powers and principalities
+of—something or other! There had been a high day at the Heath; under the
+auspices of Master Gusty May the hounds had met early. There had been a
+great chase, quite a steeple chase; a neck-or-nothing affair; and all
+day long, over hill and dale, rock and brake, the hunting had thundered,
+and still Hagar, the slight agile girl, on her flying black steed, had
+kept the advance; and still, with wild mirth and fearless defiance, she
+had cheered them forward! down the most precipitous steeps, through the
+most violent torrents, over the most frightful chasms, until the brush
+was taken. The hunters dispersed, and many of them rode over to Heath
+Hall, in company with Gusty May and Hagar. And there when all lips were
+carelessly, mirthfully speaking of her feats of horsemanship that day,
+and the dark girl’s cheek kindled more with the proud consciousness of
+power than with pleasure at their admiration, she sought Raymond’s face.
+Raymond never joined these hunts, his tastes did not lie that way. She
+sought Raymond’s countenance at the very moment that some one spoke of
+her leap across “Devil’s Gorge.” She sought Raymond’s countenance half
+in doubt. He heard—she felt he did, although his eyes were fixed upon
+the book before him. He disapproved—she felt, with a strange pain, a
+strange sense of loss that he did, although no glance, gesture, or frown
+betrayed rebuke. And somehow, all Hagar’s gladness escaped in a long
+drawn sigh! She felt not quite so much of a young lioness as she had a
+moment since; and the presence of the company annoyed her, and she
+wished from her soul that they would eat their suppers and go along
+home; she wished to hear Raymond speak to her alone, that she might know
+how much she had lost, and perchance recover it. Well, at last they did
+go, and Hagar, after, in the Maryland manner, seeing the last guest to
+the door herself, came back in her riding habit, which she had not yet
+had time to change—she came back, that slight, dark girl, looking so
+elegant in her graceful black habit, her shining blue-black ringlets
+glittering down her crimson cheek; her gleaming eyes and teeth were
+veiled and covered, one by the purple lips, the other by the long black
+fringes; how gentle she seemed now, gentle as the half-dozing
+leopardess, with her tusks and claws covered with the softest fur. And
+she _was_ gentle just now, she glided softly near Raymond and stood by
+him, so humbly! He did not see her attitude or expression as she stood a
+little behind and on one side of him, but he felt her there, turned
+softly, and passing his hand gently around her shoulders drew her down
+to his side. They were on the sofa between the two windows, and the
+light of the candles on the mantel-piece fell upon the picture—he drew
+her small and elegant head down upon his bosom with the radiant face
+turned towards him, and he gazed down on it as though his soul would
+escape through breath and glance, and die upon it. She could not meet
+those tender deep blue eyes, fixed so earnestly on her face; her black
+eye-lashes fell upon her crimson cheeks, and her brow burned; he stooped
+till his golden curls mingled with her black ringlets, and pressed his
+lips to hers. Quickly she whirled her head from under his arm, but
+continued to sit by him; he was silent, thoughtful, while he held her
+hand and pressed it from time to time.
+
+“Raymond!” at last she said. “Love!”
+
+“What is the matter?”
+
+“Why, dearest Raymond, you are grave, unusually grave—will you tell me
+the reason?”
+
+“If my Hagar, in her deepest heart, is conscious of having given me
+cause for pain, is not that enough?”
+
+The girl turned her glowing cheek and heaving bosom away from him; her
+heart was struggling violently with its chains, she did not speak for
+some time. At last he said—
+
+“Have I offended you; have I wounded you, Hagar?”
+
+“No—no—_neither_—you are too gentle and generous to do either, but I
+have hurt myself in your estimation.”
+
+He drew her to his bosom in the gentlest embrace, and bowed his soft
+cheek upon her face so slowly, tenderly; but she broke from his loving
+hold with a strangled sob and escaped to her eyrie. Yes, it was too
+true, her liberty was gone. The caress of love had riveted the chain of
+bondage about the maiden’s will—the kiss of love had left the mark of
+ownership upon the maiden’s cheek. Yes, the wild falcon was caught in
+the jesses. True, hers was the most gentle captor in the world, it was
+the gentleness that disarmed her, the tenderness that subdued her; still
+she _was_ caught, disarmed, subdued, and she did not like it—she could
+have reproached her own heart as though it had been a traitor, sitting
+up before her. Why, she softly inquired of herself, why should Raymond’s
+good or ill opinion bring _her_ joy or pain who utterly defied all other
+opinion? She could not tell, she could neither break her fetters nor
+understand how they came to be riveted so fast—verily, she was like the
+young wild horse of the prairie struggling with the lasso around her
+neck, unknowing how it came there, unable to shake it off. This feature
+in love was new to her; this subjugation of the will, this thorn in the
+rose, and it rankled not a little. She would do as she pleased, she said
+to herself. Sophie had never controlled her; Emily had never controlled
+her; and her horse’s hoofs had naturally and very unconsciously spurned
+dust and defiance in the faces of those who had pursued her with blame.
+Now comes this power stealing into her bosom, and gently, so gently, yet
+so tightly, winding round and round her free heart, so that in its wild
+throbs it bruised itself against the pressure. Yes, she _would_ do as
+she pleased; she would ride another hunt if only to convince herself
+that she might do so. And she did so; yet when flying over the moor or
+heath, when thundering down some declivity, or spurring her horse to
+some fearful leap, a hand of air would seem to fall upon her wrist
+arresting it, a voice of air fall on her ears forbidding her, and
+impatiently, like a young courser throwing up his head and champing the
+bit, she would shake off the hand and voice of air, and take the leap;
+but then—a pain would drop and sink heavily, more heavily, upon her
+spirits, weighing them utterly down—no more glad triumph! no more waving
+of the cap, or _if_ the cap was waved it was in defiance of the heart
+sinking like a plumb-weight through the bosom. “I _will_ do as I
+please,” many times she would say to herself. “Well, who hinders you?”
+“herself,” would say to her; “not Raymond, certainly, he never attempts
+such a thing, he only _suffers_ when he sees you thus.” So Hagar
+struggled against the power that was subduing her. It was when this
+struggle was nearly over that Hagar and Raymond sat in the piazza under
+the moonbeams, shining through the trellis work. Hagar, as I said, with
+her slight form erect, and her glittering eyes fixed upon the opposite
+end of the trellis. Raymond holding her small hand that quivered in his
+palm like the heart of a captured bird—Raymond with his graceful head
+bowed to catch her words.
+
+“Not yet, dearest Raymond, not _just yet_.”
+
+“But, Hagar, love, _why_, what _now_ hinders our marriage? Just see,
+dearest, how you have put me off! bethink you, from the time of my
+arrival at the Heath before my father’s death, I began to love you,
+would have married you, my father wished particularly to unite us and
+bless our union before he died, but you, Hagar, came daily with your
+‘not yet’ weekly, monthly; with your ‘not yet’ until the old man died
+without seeing the desire of his eyes. Was that kind, wild Hagar? Well!
+and since his death, you have said ‘not yet, do not let us join our
+hands over a scarcely closed grave,’ and I agreed with you. I took leave
+of you and returned to the charge of my preparatory school. A year
+passed, and procuring a substitute to take care of my school, I came
+again—again renewed my entreaty, and again Hagar with paling cheek
+insisted ‘not yet,’ and again I left the Hall alone. Believing, although
+you would not confess it, that your reluctance arose from an
+unwillingness to leave your native place, without consulting you I
+abandoned my business and came down here; here I have lingered weeks,
+and still Hagar pales and flushes and tells me ‘not yet.’ Now what am I
+to think of this, Hagar? _why_ not yet, do you not love me, will not my
+love make you happy?”
+
+Most tenderly he raised that little dark and fluttering hand to his
+lips, most gently he spoke as he said—
+
+“Now, my Hagar, tell me why do you insist upon this delay?”
+
+“Not insist, oh! not insist, Raymond—_plead_—I plead this delay—your
+love make me happy? oh! yes, _so_ happy I am afraid to stir for fear of
+disturbing it. I feel like a dreamer who has fallen asleep in foreign
+lands, and dreams that he is standing in his own garden—afraid to stir
+lest I wake up—not yet, dear Raymond—do not let us wake yet, do not
+break this dream, dispel this illusion, spoil this love yet!”
+
+“‘Spoil this love,’ why what do you mean by that, Hagar?”
+
+“I mean that we are so happy as we are, Raymond—now that I have partly
+tamed my wild heart to your gentle hand—now that I no longer grieve or
+wound you, or ride steeplechases, or shock the neighborhood into
+electric life by some galvanic feat of desperation; now that I am
+winning ‘golden opinions from all sorts of people,’ and no longer
+mortifying you—why we are so happy, this is such a fairy-land,
+dream-like happiness. Think, we are under the same roof, sit daily at
+the same table, ride to church together every Sunday, visit together,
+read together, ramble together, my twin-brother,” said she, suddenly
+yielding herself to his embrace with affectionate abandonment. “So we
+are _so_ happy! alas! don’t spoil it, don’t let us become a humdrum Mr.
+and Mrs. Withers yet—a tobacco-planting, corn-growing, butter-churning
+Mr. and Mrs. Withers! don’t! the very idea ‘withers’ my heart,” and the
+wild girl, wild still! laughed like the explosion of a squib.
+
+Raymond folded his long fair hands together and fell into thought; at
+last he said:
+
+“Hagar, I have always heard, read, and dreamed much about the
+_confiding_ love of woman, but I see little of it in you; how is this,
+Hagar?”
+
+“Have I want of confidence—is it that? Perhaps it is,” said the girl
+seriously. “I who neither fear to risk life, limb, nor good opinion; I
+fear, oh! how I _do_ fear to lose the affection of one who loves me; I
+fear to be too much with them, to ask anything of them; I feel as though
+I would always rather serve them than receive service from them.
+Raymond, young as I am, I have already suffered so much from wounded
+sensibilities; I know you would not readily believe this, but oh!
+listen—the first thing I loved in this wide world was Sophie; the first
+thing I remember was sleeping on her bosom every night with her sweet
+breath on my cheek; I do suppose she spoiled me, I was always with her,
+she was devoted to me, absorbed in me, until a new enthusiasm seized
+her, and she—oh! but, Raymond, forgive me, I suppose it was all right,
+only I did not comprehend it, and when I was suddenly severed from
+Sophie, I wept all night, screamed all day, and then when she continued
+to neglect me, and when after the arrival of Rosalia, all the child
+spoilers in the house and in the neighborhood left me altogether, and
+clustered around Rosalia like bees around a clover blossom; well,
+Raymond! perhaps it was my nature after all, I took to the forest for my
+home, and to animals for my companions; I consoled myself at first for
+the want of affection, and, afterwards, I grew really independent of it!
+my heart was so high and strong, I did not care for love—not I! I loved
+others in a half contemptuous right royal way, but I asked no sort of
+return; indeed, I think, it would have annoyed me; but now, Raymond! now
+I love you, and I have your love, and I tremble—I tremble lest I lose
+_that_ also; no heart has been steady to me, no human heart I mean, up
+to this time (it remains to be seen whether yours will be, Raymond)—no
+human heart, I said—my pointers, Remus and Romulus, have been, and
+dog-like always will be. Do you know, Raymond, by the way, why I called
+my two favorites Remus and Romulus?”
+
+“I guess you thought, bitter girl, that the fate of the poor twins cast
+out to the wolf to be nursed was not unlike that of little Hagar rocked
+upon the tree tops.”
+
+“Yes, that was it.”
+
+“My dear Hagar, you must forget these things; it were unmerciful to
+remember them against my unhappy father, most cruel to remember them
+against dearest Sophie, whose mild life has been one offering for
+others.”
+
+“I do not remember them ever. I only recall them when forced to the
+recollection, and when I have to account to myself, or to you, for some
+strange trait foreign to a young girl’s character, and then I recall
+them without bitterness as facts, not as injuries.”
+
+“Then, Hagar, love,” said he, “I am now perfectly serious in what I am
+about to say, I must either marry you very soon or tear myself away from
+you. Hagar, through the influence of one of my father’s old friends, I
+have been offered the situation of _attaché_ to the new embassy to the
+Court of Madrid; they sail in three weeks from Brooklyn. Come, Hagar,
+shall I go?”
+
+Hagar was silent.
+
+“Listen, Hagar,—if I go it is probable I shall remain three or four
+years—shall I go?”
+
+Hagar’s eyes burned holes in the floor.
+
+“Hagar, I am very weary of entreaty, hear me! I must either marry you or
+tear myself away from you! one or the other! and soon! Come! which shall
+I do, Hagar?”
+
+“We are very happy as we are; remain with us, this is your home, stay,
+you shall have as much of my company as you wish, the more the better; I
+will give up all my out-door amusements when you cannot accompany me, I
+will do anything in the world to gratify you—except get married—oh, not
+yet.”
+
+He jumped up—it was strange to see the gentle and graceful Raymond
+exhibit so much emotion.
+
+“‘Not yet.’ Oh! for heaven’s sake do not ring the changes on those two
+odious syllables any longer, Hagar; I am getting restive under it.”
+
+Then he dropped down into his seat again with a sigh, saying,
+
+“Bear with me; Hagar, it is not often that I lose patience, but indeed,
+my wild love, you are a trial! now hear me, Hagar. I shall write and
+accept that situation, I shall make preparations for my journey, and in
+two weeks from this night I shall leave Heath Hall to join the embassy
+that will sail in one week from that time. I shall, unless dearest Hagar
+in that time places her little hand in mine and trusts me with the care
+of her future happiness—well, Hagar?”
+
+“Well, Raymond?”
+
+“What have you to say to that?”
+
+“Nothing.”
+
+“Nothing?”
+
+“_Nothing._”
+
+“Ungentle! Unwomanly!”
+
+“Perhaps _too_ ungentle, _too_ unwomanly to be able to make you happy,
+Raymond!”
+
+“Hagar!”
+
+“Well!”
+
+“Mad girl! why do you act in this way?”
+
+“What way? I beg you to remain with us; I promise you to do everything
+to make you happy, except marry you; and you should rest content,
+especially as I wish to marry no one else.”
+
+“But why? why?”
+
+“Because I am afraid!—afraid!” said the girl.
+
+And then she arose, and wishing him good night, hurried into the room.
+As she passed in, a pale figure intercepted her further progress—
+
+“Gusty!” she exclaimed.
+
+“Yes, ‘Gusty!’”
+
+“I did not know that you were here.”
+
+“I have been here for half an hour. I passed right through the piazza,
+but you and Raymond were too deeply engaged in conversation to hear me.
+Perceiving your absorption, I would not interrupt you; I came in here,
+and borne down with fatigue, and stunned with despair (for, Hagar, the
+first words of your conversation betrayed the state of affairs between
+you and Raymond) I threw myself upon the sofa and there I lay until I
+heard you arise and enter the house—don’t be disturbed, Hagar, I only
+heard the few words as I passed through the piazza. I would not, you may
+be assured, have heard one word that I could have avoided hearing, and
+the words I heard were providential—they have been good for me, they
+have stunned, benumbed my senses into a sort of peace. Well, Hagar, when
+is it to come off?”
+
+“What, Gusty?”
+
+“You know—your marriage with Raymond!”
+
+But Hagar, wafting him a good night, fled up the stairs to bed. And
+Gusty, to avoid Raymond, whom he had not the power just now to meet in a
+friendly manner, Gusty having ascertained that Sophie was not visible,
+slunk out through the back way and disappeared.
+
+Days passed at Heath Hall, and Gusty was not seen. Raymond had written
+his letter of acceptance, had gone to Hagar’s eyrie in the fourth story,
+and leaning over the back of her chair, had read it to her. She had
+heard it with little visible emotion.
+
+“Now, Hagar, I am about to seal it. Tarquinius is mounted in the yard
+ready to take it to the post-office;—tell me, Hagar, shall I send it, or
+not?”
+
+“Just as you please.”
+
+“Then I please _not_ to send it on condition that you give me your
+hand.”
+
+“I cannot—yet I implore you to stay—do not leave us—I—I shall be very
+unhappy when you are gone.”
+
+“Marriage or flight, Hagar; those are my alternatives.”
+
+She said no more. He lingered.
+
+“Shall I send the letter, Hagar?”
+
+“As you please.”
+
+He took a wafer from her writing-desk, and sealing the letter, directed
+it; then going to the window, he beckoned Tarquinius. The boy
+dismounted, and coming into the house ascended the long flight of
+stairs, and in time entered the room. Raymond looked at Hagar as he
+slowly gave the letter into the hands of the boy. Hagar did not offer to
+interfere. Tarquinius left the room, and five minutes after she saw him
+ride out of the yard, letter in hand. Their eyes met then; there was
+sadness in the expression of both—the sadness of reproach upon Raymond’s
+face, the sadness of deprecation on Hagar’s. Indeed either of them could
+have wept, but that Raymond for his manhood, and Hagar for that early in
+her brave childhood she had made a sort of silent pledge of total
+abstinence from tears, refrained. He left the room very soon.
+
+Sophie entered it. She paced it in her soft, slow manner, and sinking
+down in one of the old leathern chairs by the window at which Hagar
+stood looking out upon the bay, she said—
+
+“Hagar, my love, I have come to have a talk with you: my dear child,
+what is the matter between you and Raymond? why have you grieved and
+repulsed him again? and, if I am not very much mistaken, permitted him
+to make arrangements for that foreign mission?”
+
+“Did he tell you that, Aunt Sophie?” said Hagar, turning around.
+
+“Of course not, my love; I met him coming down, I saw his face
+overshadowed, and I had seen just before that, the superscription of the
+letter in the hand of Tarquinius; now, what is it all about? Trust me,
+Raymond looks distressed to death.”
+
+Hagar ran her slender, dark fingers, through her glittering blue-black
+ringlets, and looked down in perplexity into the soft brown eyes of
+Sophie, raised to hers with their old look of pleading love. Then
+turning her eyes quickly away, she looked from the window; she did not
+wish to speak upon the subject.
+
+“You want a loving trust, Hagar,” said Sophie, sadly.
+
+“Perhaps I do,” as sadly replied the girl.
+
+“I never saw one so young as you with so little confidence, so little
+trust as you have—your distrust is more like a hardened man or woman of
+the world than a simple girl, a maiden not yet eighteen.”
+
+“But I am _not_ a simple girl—love, hope, trust, faith, were crushed out
+of me while I was yet an infant, and you know it; or perhaps you do not
+know it, Sophie; though you had some hand in the work.”
+
+“Hagar, love! you afflict me—tell me what you mean by that?”
+
+“Nothing! nothing!”
+
+“Nay, tell me, Hagar! I must know the meaning of your sad words.”
+
+“Nothing! nothing! I will explain nothing! account for nothing!
+investigate, analyse nothing! I will accuse no one! I did not mean to
+hint at a wrong! I was betrayed into it!”
+
+“This is growing very serious by your energy of manner, Hagar—have I
+injured you in any way?—my own dear child, do not turn away, but answer
+me.”
+
+“No, no; never lifted your finger, or raised your voice, to hurt me the
+least. Oh! nonsense, my dearest aunt! I am a scamp to make you
+sad—nothing! only _this_, that _my_ experience has so schooled me, young
+as you think I am, that I am afraid to launch my happiness in the
+uncertain seas of other hearts.”
+
+“You want faith, Hagar. Ah! Hagar, I partly guess now what you mean; but
+if you had known how much I loved you, all the time you thought I was
+neglecting you! Have faith, Hagar. Good Heavens!” said she, speaking
+with unaccustomed energy, “have faith! the world could not go on without
+faith. There is a great deal of faith in the world—social faith, and
+commercial faith; political faith, and domestic faith, and Christian
+faith, which embraces all the others; but there is not faith enough
+anywhere—and you, Hagar, are deplorably deficient; cultivate that small
+speck of faith that is in your heart until it grows strong and gives you
+happiness. You _cannot_ live without faith—with it you have all things,
+without it you have nothing. Have faith first in God, in His wisdom,
+goodness, power, and love, in His all-surrounding con”—
+
+“Oh, I do! you know I do, Sophie, and all the sin and suffering I see on
+earth does not in the least shake my faith in God—but—”
+
+“But you have little or no faith in your fellow creatures; cultivate
+that little then, Hagar. Oh! trust, and its opposite, mistrust, how
+powerful they are; the one for evil, the other for good. Trust! why,
+Hagar, it is the moral philosopher’s stone, that transmutes, not base
+metals to gold, but better, evil to good. Believe me; I think, Hagar,
+the story of the philosopher’s stone was an allegory, and meant this
+same faith. Why faith will convert the unfaithful by the very appeal it
+makes to their better nature. Faith plunges straight through all that is
+ill in a heart, and seizes on that which is good, though half smothered
+in sin, brings it out into life and action, cherishes it until it is
+strong and able to struggle with and perhaps to overcome the evil. Why,
+Hagar, just take a case: suppose a person whose interests are jostled
+with yours in the conflict of this world becomes your opponent, seems
+your enemy, gives you a great deal of trouble, perhaps works you much
+woe in one way or another, yet have faith in _him_, believe that _his_
+heart is not _all_ selfishness, nor treat it as though it were; believe
+that in that soul watches a _conscience_ that speaks for you, if it
+could be heard; in that heart a _human sympathy_ that still suffers for
+you, if it could be felt; a spark of divine and human love, in a word,
+that, however covered up and crusted over by sin and selfishness, still
+lives, may still be nursed into a healthful and regenerating flame by
+your love. Have faith in the human feeling, even of the selfish. Believe
+that somewhere down in the deeps of their souls, buried though it be,
+there lives some good that _your_ goodness might elicit; some love that
+_your_ love might arouse; some faith that _your_ faith might sustain;
+some conscience that your forbearance or forgiveness may awaken. And on
+the other hand, Hagar, mistrust of good, doubt of good, how fraught with
+evil it is; doubt chains the sinner to his sin, keeps the weak man on
+his couch of weakness. Trust is health, life; mistrust is illness,
+death.”
+
+“But, aunt, if you had been robbed by a person, for instance, would you
+trust that person with your purse?”
+
+“I do not mean superficial trust,” said Sophie; “no, perhaps I would not
+leave my purse in the way of a proved thief, unless I had some guarantee
+of his reformation; but I would have _trust_ in _his capabilities for
+reformation_, and I would run some risk of loss, if necessary, in
+advancing his reformation.”
+
+They were silent some time. Then Hagar said—
+
+“But you are mistaken, Sophie, if you think that I doubt or mistrust
+Raymond; it is not exactly that, it is a vague, undefined fear—dread.”
+
+“It is the same thing, arises from the same thing, Hagar; but conquer
+it, my dear. Come, Hagar, you love Raymond—long months ago you promised
+him your hand—you were miserable whenever he left the Hall, even for his
+northern school; you will be wretched when once he has left the shores
+of the United States—you will nearly die. I know something of that
+despair, Hagar,” said she, trembling; then suddenly stopped, as though
+frightened at her own words.
+
+“You, Sophie; why, who ever left you?”
+
+“Hush, my love, hush!” said Sophie, growing very pale.
+
+“Ah!” thought Hagar to herself, “see how she loved _Rosalia_.”
+
+“Come, Hagar, let me recall Raymond—he loves you, he deserves you—come,
+Hagar,” said Sophie, laying her hand on the dark girl’s arm and looking
+up into her face pleadingly, as though _she_ were the child, and Hagar
+the woman. But the girl shook her head; that last incident in the
+conversation, as she understood it, was not a propitious one.
+
+A few days rapidly slid away, and the morning of Raymond’s departure
+arrived. It was a very rainy day. His trunks had been corded, and were
+carried down to the beach, to await the passing of the packet in which
+he was to sail.
+
+Breakfast was over; and Sophie, Hagar, and Raymond were standing at the
+window that overlooked the bay. Raymond held a spy-glass in his hand,
+which Hagar would sometimes take from him and level at a distant object,
+and Raymond would watch, momentarily hoping, expecting, that she would
+drop a whisper, even at this last moment, and say, “Stay, Raymond.” But
+she did not. He thought her fingers quivered slightly as she returned
+him the spy-glass, and that her voice faltered as she said, “There is
+the vessel in sight, Raymond; look and see if it be not.”
+
+It was the packet.
+
+“Now she will relent,” he said to himself.
+
+The packet bore rapidly down the bay.
+
+“Good-by, dearest Sophie, _petite belle mère_,” said he, drawing Sophie
+to his bosom, and kissing her brow with an assumption of gay
+indifference.
+
+“God bless and prosper you, Raymond—God send you back to us, healthful
+in body, soul, and spirit—good-by, poor, dear Raymond—I am so sorry you
+are going again!” and Sophie sank down in the corner of the sofa, bowed
+her head, and sobbed.
+
+“Now she _will_ relent,” smiled Raymond to himself, as he went to Hagar,
+held out his arms, and said, “Farewell, love! farewell, dear, hard
+Hagar!”
+
+“I am going down to the beach with you,” said she.
+
+And then Raymond smiled more to himself, and again pressing the hand of
+the weeping Sophie, he drew Hagar’s arm within his own, and left the
+house. Hagar had thrown a large cloak over her head and shoulders, and
+Raymond hoisted a large umbrella—Tarquinius Superbus strutting before
+them with his arms full of small packets, &c. They arrived at the
+beach—stood upon the sand, with the rain pouring down from above, and
+the tide hurrying against their feet below as the boat from the packet
+was rowed towards them. He turned and looked in her face—all its
+expression was turned inwards, it was so pale, cold, blank. “_Ah! I said
+so_,” thought Raymond, “relenting little queen!” He could not take a
+lover’s leave of her there—not before the rough boatmen, who were
+devouring them with their eyes—but he took her hand and pressed it; oh!
+it was so cold and clammy! pressed it to his lips—
+
+“Farewell, dear Hagar!”
+
+No answer.
+
+“Good-by, Hagar. Do you hear me? I say, farewell!”
+
+“Yes! Good-by!” said she, almost wildly.
+
+“Well, it is _indeed_ good-by, then, Hagar?”
+
+“Yes! Good-by!” gulped Hagar.
+
+He was disappointed—oh! how deeply—he stooped, however, and said—
+
+“Hagar, I did not think that you would have held out so firmly thus
+long; now! quick! in mercy to me—in mercy to yourself—tell me to stay—it
+is not too late—put your hand in mine—that will be enough!”
+
+Hagar withdrew both hands.
+
+“Boat waitin’, zur!” now broke in the hoarse voice of the waterman.
+
+“Well, Hagar? Well?”
+
+“Good-by!”
+
+“Is that all?”
+
+“Yes! Good-by!”
+
+He caught her—he could not help it then—he strained her to his bosom,
+and kissed her—the boatmen might laugh, he did not see them—and tore
+himself away, stepped into the skiff, and was rowed to the packet. Soon
+the packet had resumed its course down the bay; and the rain poured down
+as she stood there, with Tarquinius holding the umbrella over her head.
+How pale, and cold, and still she stood, with all the fire of her
+temperament concentrated in her gaze, which burned upon the sails of the
+receding packet, until it was lost, even to her falcon glance, while the
+rain poured down around her, and the waves washed up to her. At last,
+“just to see the obstinacy of men!” she said; and turning, wandered
+listlessly home.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+The packet wended its way down the bay, it was bound for the port of New
+York; the weather was bad, and grew worse; contrary winds kept it back,
+and it was many days longer than usual on the voyage. At last it
+anchored in the port of New York. Raymond went to a hotel and called for
+paper, pen, and ink, with which to write to his friends at Churchill
+Point. Having finished his letters, he took them to the Post Office, and
+after mailing them, ran his eye down the published list of letters, as
+if by hundredth hazard his name might be there. It was not. Indeed he
+did not expect to see it. It was an idle thing, he thought, but still he
+would ask the clerk if there was a letter there for him.
+
+“_What_ name, sir?”
+
+“Raymond Withers.”
+
+“Here is your letter, sir, came in this morning’s mail.”
+
+He seized the letter—just as you seized _that_ letter of yours, you
+know, reader. It—Raymond’s letter, and not yours—was from Sophie, and
+ran thus—
+
+
+  “Come home, dear Raymond. Hagar has been nearly delirious since you
+  have been gone, yet I believe she would expire before she would recall
+  you herself; however, come home; I will engage to say that we will
+  have a bright little wedding at Heath Hall, yet; indeed, so certain am
+  I of that fact, that I have engaged extra assistance, and have
+  commenced preparations.”
+
+
+The other part was in a different hand—a dear, familiar, light, airy
+hand, that seemed to skim, scarce touching the paper; it ran thus—
+
+
+  “I have come to Sophie’s writing-desk, and read over her shoulder what
+  she has just written—I, too, say—Come home, Raymond!—I place my
+  ‘little hand’ in yours.”
+
+
+In ten minutes Raymond had written an answer, being an _avant courier_
+of himself; in ten more he had penned a letter of resignation of his
+appointment; and in an hour he had removed his baggage from the packet
+to another bound by the bay to Baltimore _viâ_ Churchill Point.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+Just a week after sailing from New York, and three weeks from the date
+of his leaving Churchill Point, Raymond stepped from a boat upon the
+beach under the promontory, and as true as you live, reader, it was
+pouring rain just as fast as it rained upon the day of his departure.
+And there stood a slight dark girl, muffled in a black cloak, and behind
+her, with the whites of his eyes and teeth conspicuous, stood Tarquinius
+Superbus, holding an umbrella over her. It seemed to Raymond that he had
+only dozed a minute, and dreamed the last three weeks. He was by her
+side in an instant, had pressed her hand and drawn it through his arm,
+and walking on with her was bending forward and downward, looking into
+her dark and sparkling face with an expression, half affection, half
+triumph, on his superb brow and beautiful lips; but the mirth sparkling
+up from Hagar’s face defied him.
+
+“Do you know—does your little highness happen to know, Princess Hagar,
+what inconvenience you have put me to—what an agreeable three weeks I
+have passed—two weeks confined in the close cabin of a little sea-tossed
+packet, drenched with rain and beset with easterly winds which were of
+course contrary; then one week’s voyage back, in weather a little worse
+than the other, except that the wind was favorable; to say nothing of
+the seeming folly of resigning my appointment at the moment the embassy
+was to sail. You have inconvenienced the administration also, Hagar!
+think of their having to _improvise_ a successor for me at the last
+moment.”
+
+“But who would have thought that you would have been so stubborn?”
+laughed Hagar.
+
+“Stubborn! it was _you_ who were stubborn, Hagar. Good heavens! I never
+encountered such a will in my life!”
+
+“I could not have believed that you would have gone!”
+
+“I could not have believed that you would have suffered me to go.”
+
+“But I expected you to give up.”
+
+“And I wished you to yield. Where is that boy? Where is Tarquinius? Oh,
+immediately behind us; I thought so. Come, Tarquinius! come, Superbus!
+hurry home and get tea in—you waited tea for me, Hagar?”
+
+“Oh, of course.”
+
+Tarquinius toiled with all his might and main ahead; but hurrying home,
+up that steep, slippery cliff, was not such sure and expeditious work,
+and Tarquinius kept near them perforce, while poor Raymond, still
+bending forward, looked down into Hagar’s liquid eyes and lips, like
+Tantalus looked at the spring that was sparkling, leaping, and laughing
+invitation and defiance in his face.
+
+“_Oh-h!_” groaned and smiled Raymond.
+
+“Are you tired?” questioned Hagar, maliciously.
+
+“No, you monkey.”
+
+“I am afraid you are,” said Hagar.
+
+In reply to which Raymond stooped down, and lifting her lightly in his
+arms, ran up the steep with her, and set her down upon the top, then
+smilingly drew her arm again within his own, and they went to the house.
+How cheerfully the firelight and the candle-light glowed from the two
+windows under the shed of the piazza!
+
+“I love to see a light within the house at night so much!” said Raymond,
+“and I like it better even in cities than in the country—it looks so
+very cheerful; and then to go through long streets at night, in which
+the houses are closed up from top to bottom, and you only guess life
+within through a chink in the shutter—it has to me the most ungenial,
+unsocial, selfish look in the world. I always kept the windows of my
+lodgings open until I went to bed, would you believe it of me, Hagar,
+just to add a little to the cheerfulness of our dark back street.”
+
+Sophie came out to meet them smiling, with her brown eyes looking so
+loving, and conducted them in.
+
+Raymond had changed his clothes, and tea was over, and they gathered
+around the fire, Sophie with her needle-work, Hagar, the idle one, with
+a spiteful black kitten on her lap, whose antics amused her, and
+distressed Remus and Romulus, who were _couchant_ at her feet.
+
+“I love a chill, rainy evening just at this season of the year,” said
+Sophie, “because it makes it necessary to have a fire, and to gather
+around it with our work.”
+
+And then Raymond, smiling, drew from his pocket a book.
+
+“What is it, Raymond?” exclaimed both ladies in a breath,—(those were
+not the days of cheap literature, reader, nor was that the
+neighborhood)—in those days, and in that country, all “books” were
+“books.” “What is it, Raymond?”
+
+And Raymond turned the back, and held it to them.
+
+Both read in a breath—“Childe Harold,”—and both exclaimed in a breath,
+“Read to us, Raymond.”
+
+And Raymond opened the book, while Hagar pulled her kitten’s ear, and
+made it spit and bite, and Sophie counted the stitches of her knitting,
+and commenced reading, and there we will leave them for the present.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXI.
+                            HAGAR’S BRIDAL.
+
+              ‘Bride, upon thy marriage day,
+              Did the fluttering of thy breath
+              Speak of joy or woe beneath?
+              And the hue that went and came
+              O’er thy cheek like wavering flame,
+              Flowed that crimson from the unrest
+              Or the gladness of thy breast?’
+                                                  HEMANS.
+
+
+Poor Gusty had walked about several days in a stupor, “stunned by a
+sockdologer,” he said, into a stupor from which nothing could arouse
+him; he longed for the time when he should be ordered to sea, but alas!
+that time was very distant yet, he feared. He had never been at the Hall
+since what he called “that fatal evening.” Emily was happy that an end
+was put to his hopes of Hagar at any cost of present pain to him.
+
+“Gusty,” said she one morning, “do you know Hagar is to be married week
+after next?”
+
+“Yes, mother.”
+
+“Do you know that Sophie wants very much to get Rosalia home to the
+wedding?”
+
+“Does she?”
+
+“Yes—but unluckily no one seems to be travelling down in this direction
+from the neighborhood of her school, so that she cannot get an escort;
+Sophie cannot leave home to go after her, and she has no one she can
+send.”
+
+“Let me go! I carried her to school, you know; let me go and bring her
+home!” exclaimed Gusty, jumping up, very glad of a job that would stir
+his blood into a little circulation.
+
+“Then as soon as dinner, which is just ready, is over, go to Heath Hall,
+and offer your services to Mrs. Withers, Mr. May. God bless this poor
+boy!” said she, taking his head between her hands, “he thinks his sun
+has set, and left his world in darkness, and he thinks that his life is
+made a ‘howling wilderness,’ and he thinks a great many horrible
+poetical things besides, and he has a slight suspicion that if he could
+put all that he feels upon paper, he would make a great poet. Well, now,
+let me advise you to improve the time, master poet; it will be
+short—write while the fire is blazing in the heart, and the brain
+boiling over it like a pot—do, Gusty, for presently the fire will all be
+out, and the brain quiet, and the clouds will clear away from your sky,
+and the sun will rise upon your stormy night and convert it into a very
+humdrum forenoon, unsuggestive of anything but dinner.”
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+Sophie and Hagar were in conversation together in the chamber of the
+former, as Gusty rode into the yard. Sophie was trimming the white satin
+boddice of a beautiful dress that lay over the bed.
+
+“And now I shall not wear that!” said Hagar. “I do not like it, it does
+not suit me. I shall feel in borrowed plumes if I wear that; it no more
+suits me than the white feathers of the dove would suit the kite.”
+
+“But, Hagar, my love, you would not wear anything else than white, would
+you? I never heard of a bride, a young bride, wearing colors in her
+bride dress.”
+
+“But _I_ shall—I shall wear a black lace dress.”
+
+“Black! mercy, Hagar, you would make yourself so conspicuous, you would
+shock the whole neighborhood!”
+
+Hagar laughed wildly, “You know very well that _that_ is my besetting
+sin, Sophie; when this inane neighborhood is falling into an apathy, I
+feel a propensity to shock it into a little life!”
+
+“Oh! you will think more rationally of this, I know it, for I know you
+would not willingly shock Raymond—but tell me, does he seriously intend
+writing to Dr. Otterback to come down?”
+
+“Very seriously, for he _has_ gone to his room for that purpose now. You
+see, dear Sophie, that I wished it myself. I am like that poor fellow
+who was hanged at Churchill Point a year ago; who, you recollect, would
+not receive the services of a Jack Ketch in the arrangement of his
+toilet, but insisted that the high sheriff should officiate, exclaiming,
+with an expiring flash of self-respect, ‘If I _am_ to be hanged, I’ll be
+hanged by a gentleman!’[4] Now if a halter must be tied about my neck it
+shall be tied by a bishop!”
+
+Footnote 4:
+
+  A fact.
+
+The girl’s manner was full of wild gaiety. Sophie gently rebuked her for
+speaking of sad and grave subjects with wanton lightness. But the girl’s
+eyes flashed more mirth and fire than before, as she said—
+
+“Dear Sophie, how can you expect of me pity for others who have now none
+at all for myself—when I have made up my mind to be hanged or married I
+can do it; if hanging were the dish, I should not think of the horror,
+the agony, the death—my mind would leap straight through that dark,
+quick passage to the light! the joy! the immortality!”
+
+“Oh, Hagar! and you say that not reverently, but triumphantly! oh,
+Hagar! what a heart you have to break down. A young bit of a maiden, yet
+with no gentleness, no tenderness, no sympathy—a little, slight, dark
+creature, yet with the fire, courage, and fierceness of a young panther.
+Oh! Hagar, how much I fear for you!”
+
+Just at this moment a light rap was heard at the door; Sophie arose and
+opened it. It was a servant come to say that Mr. May was below stairs
+and requested to see Mrs. Withers. Sophie followed the messenger. She
+found Gusty waiting in the parlor. Sophie was not unacquainted with the
+secret that the poor fellow’s despair had betrayed to all his friends,
+but this was the first time, be it remembered, that he had visited the
+Hall since the destruction of his hopes. Sophie’s manner was unusually
+gentle and affectionate to him, so much so that poor Gusty whose heart
+was sadly suffering for sympathy, said to her suddenly at the close of
+their interview, and after all the arrangements relative to his mission
+had been agreed upon,
+
+“How much older are you than I, Sophie?”
+
+“Eight years,” answered Sophie, opening her large eyes. “Why?”
+
+“Nothing—it is too much, I suppose! but may be it is not, as I am sure I
+am a great deal taller and twice as broad shouldered, and sun-burnt and
+all that, so that I am sure I must look as old as you?”
+
+“What are you thinking of, Gusty?”
+
+“Be hanged if you do look more than a very gentle little girl after all,
+not half so self-sustained and womanly as Hagar!”
+
+“Why, Gusty?”
+
+“I mean, Sophie, will you marry me? I am very steady of my years—all to
+taking care of mother—and I shall behave myself better than you think
+for, indeed I shall.”
+
+“Why, Gusty!”
+
+“Sophie, you’ll think it strange after all that phrensy of mine for
+Hagar, that I now offer you my hand, a boy’s hand; but, Sophie, I always
+_did_ love you and like to stay with you, and now that Hagar has thrown
+me away, I feel weak, suffering, as if I wanted some one to love me
+protectingly, to nurse me, to pet me—you are the very one, Sophie! I am
+so lonesome, so miserable, feel so unnecessary in the world. I am first
+person singular, nominative case to nothing under the sun just now! I
+want some one to love so much! some dear gentle girl that will love me
+with all her heart and soul, and not feel jealous of this anguish I must
+suffer for the loss of Hagar. Come, Sophie, pity me—my manhood,
+strength, spirit, impetuosity is all melting out of me. I feel like a
+poor dog that has no owner!”
+
+“Your mother, Gusty.”
+
+“Oh! mother, has not she a husband, as well as Hagar a lover? Come,
+Sophie, you spent the first years of your youth in nursing a sick
+brain—spend the rest in nursing a sick heart—love me, Sophie. Oh, if you
+knew how I suffered, you would love me,” and Gusty fairly dropped his
+head down upon Sophie’s shoulder and _almost_ wept. She let it lie
+there—nay she caressed that young grief-bowed head, as she said,
+
+“I always have loved you, Gusty, and always shall, and will do anything
+in the world I can to make you happy.”
+
+“Thank you, dear Sophie. I thought you were too good to be proud because
+you happened to be the eldest; now, Sophie, how long will it be first,
+for I want to live with you, and lay my head upon your little shoulder,
+just so, while I talk to you of my troubles and you soothe me—when shall
+it be, Sophie?”
+
+“What be, Gusty?”
+
+“Our wedding!”
+
+“Nonsense, dear Gusty, _never_. You are mad to think of such a thing,
+Gusty!”
+
+“Then you won’t.”
+
+“Certainly not—-you were never surely serious in such a strange
+proposition! no, of course you were not! I was silly to give you a
+serious reply!”
+
+“As the Lord in Heaven hears me, I am serious—I must be loved—love me,
+Sophie.”
+
+“I _do_ love you, and _will_ love you, how can I help it? but as to
+marrying you, Gusty! nonsense! Why, see here, when I was a little girl
+of eight years old, you were a babe of a few weeks, and I used to carry
+you in my arms all over the house, and have helped to nurse and educate
+you from infancy up, at least you knew I did until of late years,” said
+Sophie, correcting herself; “now do you feel as if you still would like
+to marry your nurse, your little mother?”
+
+Gusty was silent.
+
+“No, Gusty, you will get over this in a few days, you will see some one
+else. I know by your professions to me that it is not _love_, but the
+_want_ of love, that makes you miserable—your journey will help your
+cheerfulness, too. You must set out to-morrow.”
+
+He took his hat and riding-whip to go.
+
+“Sophie, won’t you come over to mother’s and spend the evening this
+evening?—do, Sophie, it is lonesome over there, and mother and yourself
+can talk over the hundred thousand subjects of interest you have in
+hand.”
+
+“Yes, I will come, Gusty.”
+
+“Don’t bring Hagar!”
+
+“No.”
+
+“And, Sophie, mind, don’t let mother know what a fool I have been making
+myself.”
+
+“Oh, no!” smiled Sophie, and the interview closed.
+
+Gusty had to call at Churchill’s Point, it was mail-day; and Gusty,
+though his correspondence was far from extensive, always made a point of
+being present at the opening of the mail.
+
+“Here is a letter for your ma, Mr. May,” said the little old widow, who
+was post-mistress for Churchill Point.
+
+“From my Uncle Augustus,” exclaimed Gusty, as he received it,
+“postmarked Boston—ha! his ship is in port—wonder when he is coming
+down.” So musing, Gusty quickened his horse’s pace, and rode on towards
+the cottage.
+
+“A letter from uncle, mother,” said he, as he laid it on the stand by
+her side, “and Sophie has accepted my escort for her niece, and I am to
+set off in the morning. Sophie will be here with us to tea.”
+
+Emily nodded and nodded assent to everything he said, though she heard
+not half while devouring her brother’s letter.
+
+“How is he—what does he say, mother?” exclaimed Gusty, when she had
+finished reading.
+
+“He will visit us soon—he is going to be married.”
+
+“Mar—married!”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“To whom?”
+
+“To a young lady, he says, whom he has known for a long time, and who
+has his warmest affections and his highest respect.”
+
+“He married, too! well everybody gets married but me—lend me the letter,
+mother, let me see all about it,” and she handed him the letter. While
+he was reading the letter, Emily looked out, and exclaimed:—
+
+“There is Sophie now! go and help her from her saddle, Gusty!” and Gusty
+went. Emily followed more at leisure, and received her friend with her
+accustomed affection, whispering in confidence, “I have made a cream
+cake for your tea, darling,” and led her in, took off her bonnet, and
+seated her near the pleasantest window. When she had carried away her
+things, and returned, sitting by her, she said suddenly, in the midst of
+a gossipping conversation:—
+
+“But, Sophie, you never ask me after my brother Augustus!”
+
+“Don’t I?” said Sophie, faintly.
+
+“Why, _no_, you know you don’t—what ever can be the reason?”
+
+“How is he—have you a letter?”
+
+“Ah! exactly—‘how is he,’ when I have reminded you to ask.”
+
+“Forgive my forgetfulness, Emily.”
+
+“His ship has returned, did you know it?”
+
+“No,” said Sophie softly.
+
+“Well, it _has_. Came in port nine days since—he is coming down to visit
+us very soon—how long has it been since you saw him, Sophie?”
+
+“I don’t know,” answered Sophie reservedly.
+
+“Let’s see, I can tell, he has only been here three times since, and
+that was while you were so taken up, that you never came near us—let’s
+see, it will be exactly eight years next Tuesday week since you met, and
+next Tuesday week I am to give a party to our bride, Hagar. He will be
+here on that day, and I fancy there will be another bride. Why, Sophie,
+what a color you have this evening—he is going to be married, and will
+probably bring his wife down—no, Sophie, it must have been the
+reflection of the sunset, for now I see you are quite pale, paler than
+usual—are you sick?”
+
+“Oh! no, no.”
+
+“A little fatigued, I suppose. (Gusty rang for tea.) Yes! a young lady
+to whom he has long been attached—she’s fainted. I wonder when Sophie
+will ever have any nerves?”
+
+“How easily she swoons! Sophie never _was_ strong,” exclaimed Emily, as
+she raised and set her back, reached a tumbler of water, and bathed her
+temples. As Sophie opened her eyes she met those of Emily, looking
+kindly, sweetly, and with a new expression, into hers. “How do you feel,
+love?” was Emily’s first question.
+
+“Better.”
+
+“What made you faint? was it fatigue?”
+
+I once told you, reader, of Sophie’s deep veneration for truth, that
+would never permit her even to prevaricate. She was silent, and Emily
+looking again into her eyes, refrained from asking her any more
+questions, but smiled to herself, as in a few minutes she said to
+Sophie:—
+
+“Now, my love, I have got to answer my brother’s letter by return mail;
+will you excuse me? I will not leave your side, but draw the stand to
+me, and write it here; it will not occupy me more than fifteen minutes.”
+She drew her writing-desk before her, and, selecting her paper,
+commenced writing, while Kitty brought in the tea-things. At last,
+looking up from her work, she said:—
+
+“I have told Augustus that you are sitting by my side while I write; now
+what shall I tell him from _you_?” Sophie was still silent. “Come,
+Sophie!”
+
+“Give him my respects.”
+
+“Fiddle-sticks! why did you not send your _duty_ at once, like a
+school-girl to her papa? your respects!” but then she looked at Sophie
+and saw her still so pale, so tremulous, that she turned and quietly
+resumed her writing.
+
+If you had been looking over her shoulder, you might have read the
+following lines:
+
+
+  “Dearest brother—dearest Augustus—welcome! first to your native
+  shores, and then soon, very soon, I hope, to your sister’s home and
+  bosom. Now concerning the subject of your letter, I must write
+  cautiously, as I perceive that _you_ recollected to do—because our
+  worthy old post-mistress takes the liberty of peeping in at the ends
+  of all private and confidential letters that pass and repass through
+  her hands.[5] She will get something indigestible if she pries into
+  this; no matter for her! About this other affair—yes, come! I have no
+  _doubt_ of it, _never_ have had from first to last, though nothing in
+  her manner, no look, word, or gesture, ever revealed the fact to me
+  until this afternoon; nay, I believe the poor thing was unconscious
+  herself, for you know I think she is one of the excellent of the
+  earth, one of God’s peculiar favorites; and through all these dark
+  days I always had a faith in her eventual happiness even in this
+  world, for the promise, Augustus, is both for _this_ world and the
+  next; hear it, ‘Godliness is profitable unto _all things_, having the
+  promise of _the life that now is_, and of that which is to come;’ and
+  listen again! for I don’t think that you attend to these things as
+  much as you ought to: ‘No man hath left house, or parents, or
+  brethren, or wife, or children, for the kingdom of God’s sake, that
+  shall not receive manifold more in this _present time_, and in the
+  world to come life everlasting;’ and _her_ martyrdom, poor girl, was
+  so sincere, however mistaken—so sincere and complete, for she thought
+  it for life! It was all rayless darkness to her; the future illumined
+  only by her Christian love and faith. And she is so beautiful,
+  Augustus; so much more beautiful now at twenty-five, than she was at
+  seventeen, when you saw her last; her health and spirits have suffered
+  somewhat, but that has only lent the inexpressible charm of delicacy
+  and pensiveness to her beauty. I rejoice in you both, Augustus! I
+  rejoice in you both, and I bless you from my full heart! I rejoice in
+  the ‘more than Roman virtue’ with which you died to each other, fully
+  believing it eternal separation—with which you ever sternly wrested
+  your thoughts from the other. I, the friend of both, have never once
+  been made the medium of the slightest communication, the slightest
+  inquiry or message such as acquaintances might interchange. You _died_
+  to each other, believing it for ever, and that was right. But _this_
+  is not right; it is not right that you should bind me to secresy about
+  the subject of this letter, upon the ground that you do not know the
+  state of her mind, or how she might receive it. Come and see for
+  yourself—and even now she is looking up at me with her patient brown
+  eyes, and believing—Heaven forgive me!—no matter. Come soon
+
+Footnote 5:
+
+    Fact of a good old post-mistress in —— county, Maryland, to my own
+    serious discomfiture.
+
+                                                                “EMILY.”
+
+
+“Please, madam! the tea will get cold,” exclaimed Kitty, and Emily
+hastily sealed and directed her letter, and they sat down to the table.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+The wedding-day of Hagar and Raymond dawned. They were anxiously
+awaiting the packet, which they expected would bring Rosalia and Gusty,
+and perhaps, also, Dr. Otterback, who was to come down from Baltimore.
+Afternoon came, and Hagar, trying girl! instead of secluding herself in
+the mystery of her own room until it was time to dress, Hagar was down
+on the beach with a telescope, watching the approach of a distant
+vessel. While she was intently gazing, she felt her arm twitched, and
+looking back saw Blanche Rogers, who had been domesticated for several
+days at the Hall, employed in assisting Sophie with the bridal millinery
+and confectionery.
+
+“Come, you torment! Come, you trial! it is time to dress! _time!_—high
+time! both rooms are full of company; and now I shall have to steal you
+into the house through the back way! Come!”
+
+Blanche Rogers was fully her equal in social position, besides being
+several years older than Hagar, yet not for this would the wild, proud
+girl, permit the familiarity of her address—lowering her telescope, she
+said with spirit,—
+
+“The evening dews are chill, Miss Rogers; perhaps you had better not
+expose yourself to their influence, as you are not so well accustomed to
+them as myself. _I_ watch the approach of yonder packet, and must see
+whether it contain passengers for the Hall, before I leave the beach.”
+
+“Yes, but my little self-willed, headstrong bride, it is _late_; the
+company are assembled; we have determined not to await the arrival of
+the bishop, or of the laggards, Rose and Gusty; we have settled that the
+ceremony shall proceed; we cannot wait much longer for anybody.”
+
+“I rather think you will have to wait some time longer for the bride!”
+said the girl, “unless, indeed, you could fancy the ‘tragedy of Hamlet,
+with the part of the Prince of Denmark omitted.’”
+
+“But, oh! Hagar, this is shocking!”
+
+“Is it? So much the better; you need to be shocked!”
+
+While they spoke, the vessel bore down rapidly towards the
+point—stopped—a boat was put out and rowed towards the beach, and old
+Dr. Otterback alone stepped upon the sand. The old man came smilingly
+forward, rubbing his hands and holding them out. Blanche stepped forward
+to welcome him.
+
+“Hey, Miss—Miss ——, I remember you, you monkey, though I don’t remember
+your name, or know if you have changed it.”
+
+“Miss Rogers!”
+
+“Miss—_what!_ not married yet?”
+
+“La! no, Dr. Otterback, I was waiting for _you_! Ain’t you a single man?
+You looked so much at your ease, I really thought you were, anyhow?”
+
+“And you would put me out of my ease, hey? No, I’ll tell you the reason
+you are not married; the young men are afraid of you, that is it.”
+
+“Not so, Dr. Otterback; I have twelve beaux, but I should be afraid to
+marry one of them for fear that eleven of them would hang themselves.”
+
+“_Twelve_ would hang themselves, my lady, you may be sure of that! But,
+this is Miss Churchill, if I am not mistaken,” said he, going up to
+Hagar.
+
+Hagar curtsied, blushed with all her spirit; she was embarrassed,
+abashed, as well as much disappointed. This meeting Dr. Otterback alone,
+under such circumstances, was not what she had anticipated; not what it
+would have been, covered with the shower of welcomes that would have
+attended the reception of the _whole party_, had Gusty and Rosalia been
+with him. One thing, however, if Dr. Otterback recognised her as the
+bride of the evening, he did not appear to do so. They reached the Hall.
+The whole yard and surrounding grounds of the Hall were filled with
+carriages tied to the trees. Hagar reached her room without encountering
+any of the guests—though as she passed up the long wide staircase, and
+through the passages, she could hear the half-suppressed hum of voices
+in the bed-rooms; the hushed voices of ladies who had arrived late and
+were re-arranging their toilet after their ride.
+
+Hagar did _not_ wear the threatened black lace dress; she wore just what
+she should have worn, just what, with little variety, _all_ brides wear;
+viz. a white Mechlin lace over white satin; pearls on her arms and neck,
+and a wreath of orange blossom buds twined irregularly in and out among
+her glittering blue-black tresses. But she was the most fidgety little
+bride you ever saw; her bosom rose and fell convulsively, and her little
+dark fingers twirled and twitched spasmodically, as the party stood
+before the bishop, in the midst of the assembled company; and more than
+once Raymond’s soft hand pressure and reassuring whisper were needed.
+
+It was over. Sophie lifted the veil from her head and whispered very
+softly,
+
+“God bless you, my own dear child, my foster child, my nursling. God
+make you happy.”
+
+And then Hagar’s wild eyes flew off from Sophie’s face to light on
+Raymond’s countenance, to meet his eyes; and then her expression
+changed—tragedy and comedy, deep joy, foreboding fear, comic humor and
+earnest affection were blended in the blushing and sparkling face she
+raised to meet his self-possessed and loving smile. It was strange,
+queer—a few words had been pattered over by a fat old gentleman in a
+gown; and, lo! all their relations were changed. It was curious; her
+very name and title were gone, and the girl, two minutes since a wild,
+free maiden, was now little better than a bondwoman; and the gentle
+youth who two minutes since might have sued humbly to raise the tips of
+her little dark fingers to his lips, was now invested with a lifelong
+authority over her. Yes, it _was so_ curious! and the spirited girl was
+in doubt whether to laugh or cry; and the expression of mingled emotions
+on her face blended into one of intense interest and inquiry as she met
+his gaze and smile, which she could not help fancying _patronizing and
+condescending_, as well as protective and loving! A new, extremely
+provoking feature in his smile! but perhaps she only fancied it. But
+this new relation, this new position, this new owning and being owned—it
+was very unique! very piquant! and Hagar felt it so! and her wild dark
+face gleamed and sparkled more and more all the evening; and every once
+in a while she would furtively look at Raymond as though he had been
+suddenly metamorphosed into something very awful; and if Raymond caught
+her stolen glance at such a time, her face and neck would be dyed with
+crimson.
+
+I do not mean to weary you with a description of this wedding, nor tell
+you how the chambers of Heath Hall were crowded with guests that night,
+nor how old Cumbo fretted and fumed over the preparation of the state
+dinner the next day; nor how the dancing party came off in the evening;
+nor how disappointed Sophie was at the still prolonged absence of
+Rosalia and Gusty; nor how her thoughts occasionally wandered—but I will
+not even hint at _that_. None of these things will I trouble you
+with—but come to the Tuesday upon which Mrs. Buncombe was to give her
+sober, clerical-like evening party to the newly married pair—premising
+that Rosalia and Gusty had not yet arrived. It was a beautiful evening,
+and our party from Heath Hall rode over to Grove Cottage by moonlight.
+Emily’s rooms were well lighted and well filled—and Emily herself, with
+her quiet gaiety moving about, diffusing cheerfulness around. The bridal
+party, as usual there, sat at the extremity of the room opposite the
+entrance. Sophie sat with them; her small soft hands folded lovingly
+together on the lap of her brown satin dress, and her large eyes bent in
+reverie upon them. Very far from the scene must her thoughts have
+wandered, as she did not hear the slight agitation around the front door
+of the room, or see the entrance of an officer in the full dress uniform
+of a captain in the United States Navy, who, conducted by Emily,
+approached, bowing and smiling recognition on either side; she did not
+even look up until a light finger dropped softly on her hand, and she
+raised her large eyes to behold Emily, and—
+
+“My brother, Captain Wilde, United States Navy—Mrs. Withers!” said
+Emily, presenting him with mock gravity. And Sophie mechanically arose,
+curtsied, and sank into her seat again, as though she had never set eyes
+upon him before. She did so involuntarily, and without again raising her
+eyes; a weight like destiny seemed to weigh down the eyelids. Captain
+Wilde looked right and left in search of a seat, but found none, until a
+youth, one of Raymond’s groomsmen, who was sitting by Sophie, politely
+relinquished his seat, which was as politely accepted by Captain Wilde.
+Emily moved off, leaning on the arm of the boy. Captain Wilde glanced
+all around the room—no! no one was minding him—old men were talking
+politics and agriculture, and old women gossipping scandal and
+housewifery, and young men were courting seriously or flirting
+flippantly, and young women were being courted; no one was minding
+him—no one seemed at all interested in the sayings and doings of Captain
+Augustus Wilde, United States Navy, in full dress uniform though he was.
+He turned to look at Sophie; _she_ was looking straight down at a ring
+upon the third finger of her left hand—_he_ followed her eyes and looked
+at it, too; and now, losing her presence of mind, growing very much
+confused, and blushing deeply, she began unconsciously to twist it round
+and round—while he watched the operation. At last, while apparently in
+doubt how to address her, he made a remark, startling in its profundity—
+
+“There is quite an assembly here this evening, madam.”
+
+Her reply, given in a very low tone, was equally original:
+
+“Yes, sir, a large company for so sparse a neighborhood.”
+
+“Yes, the neighborhood _is_ sparse and not increasing in population, I
+think; no new settlers coming in, while a considerable number of the old
+families are moving off. Is it not so?” said he, stooping forward, and
+looking intently upon Sophie’s varying cheek, as though life and death
+were in the answer.
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+“What do you suppose to be the reason?”
+
+“I really do not know.”
+
+“One thing I know to be, the deterioration of land here, owing to their
+dreadfully destructive system of agriculture—the contrast between New
+England and the Southern States is so striking in this feature of
+agriculture; don’t you think so?”
+
+“Indeed, I never think about it.”
+
+“Oh, you are not at all a _fermière_. Yes, the contrast is very
+striking; the New Englanders have raised, by the labor of their own
+hands, a naturally ungenial soil to a high state of productiveness,
+while your Maryland planters have, even with the aid of their troops of
+negroes, exhausted the fertility of a soil naturally very productive.
+Why, Mrs. Withers, I am informed that your planters, instead of manuring
+their ground, plant one third of their land in rotation every year,
+leaving two thirds to recover itself. This must exhaust land very soon.”
+
+Sophie was silent.
+
+“Warm climates and rich soils, where little labor is required to gain a
+subsistence, engender habits of indolence; now, though your climate is
+not very warm, yet I think that the original richness of your soil and
+the convenience of your gangs of negroes, first seduced your planters
+into their slovenly habits of cultivation—do you not think so?”
+
+Sophie burst into tears. Her soft heart had been filling for the last
+half hour, and it ran over in tears! First a start of surprise, then a
+bright smile, then a quick glance around the room, and a bowed head and
+a low whisper in Sophie’s ear.
+
+“_Sophie!_ the rooms are close and crowded, come, walk in the grapery
+with me!” and drawing her arm through his own, he led her forth into the
+yard, down that long shaded grape walk that led from the cottage porch
+through the yard to the cottage gate. They paused at the gate,
+separated, turned and looked at each other; the moon was shining full
+upon their faces, they could see each other serenely and distinctly. It
+was no longer Captain Augustus Wilde, bristling in his new uniform, and
+with a long string of U. S. N.’s at the end of his name, and it was no
+longer Mrs. Withers; but no—_she_ had _never_ changed, or even _seemed_
+to change. It was the Sophie and Gusty Wilde of eight years before! and
+as he gazed at her, the light kept leaping in his eyes, and,
+
+“_Oh, Sophie! my Sophie!_” and opening his arms he caught her to his
+bosom and kissed! oh! he kissed her forehead, eyes, and lips, as though
+his lips would have grown there! and then holding her head a little off
+upon his arm, the better to gaze upon her, he looked down delightedly
+into her happy, smiling face, for it _was_ a happy, smiling face now,
+and he said,
+
+“Oh, my dear Sophie! this is _deep joy_, this is _charming comicality_,
+too! It _is_, you little brown-eyed witch! To think that scarcely five
+minutes ago, you and I were sitting in yonder crowded drawing-room,
+talking of _farming_ and _agriculture_, and calling each other ‘sir’ and
+‘madam,’ ‘Mrs. Withers’ and ‘Captain Wilde,’ with our bursting hearts
+covered over with conventional trivialities, as people might cover a
+mine with straw and stubble, with a paper wall between us, which your
+flood of tears washed down. God _bless_ those tears! God _bless_ those
+eyes that had no single glance—those lips that had no single tone for
+pride or deception, my own dear Sophie! You are more affectionate, more
+tender, more gentle, more natural than I am, my own sweet-lipped,
+gentle-eyed Sophie!” and he drew her closely and kissed her again, but
+there was less ardor, more tenderness, and less passion and more
+affection in this caress.
+
+“Oh, this is sweet, it is sweet, _Sophie! Sophie!_ Why, her very name is
+something to breathe one’s soul away upon; let us sit down, my
+Sophie—this meeting, this fast-flooding joy overpowers me!” and he sank
+down upon one of the long benches that ran on either side of the whole
+length of the walk, and he opened his arms again and said,
+
+“Come, gentle Sophie, come sit beside me; lay your dear head under my
+arm, against my bosom, and let me talk to you. I am growing dizzier
+every moment; I thought I was prepared for this meeting, but, oh! my
+Sophie, I am as much stunned as though the thunder cloud of joy had but
+just broken over me! Say something rational to me, Sophie—_do_, dear
+child! You cannot? No, you cannot; you are as silly this moment, my
+gentle dove, as I am myself. But why do not you talk to me, darling?
+Your soft eyes are shining with love and joy, but you have not a word
+for me—why?”
+
+“I am thinking of you so much,” said Sophie, softly; “I am thinking,
+dearest friend, of the long, long years you have passed in desolation of
+heart, without a home, except your ship and quarters, without a fireside
+of your own, without a family circle, without affection; coming in and
+going out of port, alike unblessed, unwelcomed, and unwept, and all for
+me! for me! I am thinking of that, and wondering if life and soul could
+repay such love!”
+
+“Understand me, dearest; it was _not_ all for you—it was not, God knows,
+in the hope of ever possessing you! that would have been criminal,
+Sophie. No, dearest, when I parted with you at the carriage door upon
+that memorable evening, I carried with me, it is true, a desperate hope!
+but what am I talking of? I beg your pardon, Sophie; I said I was dizzy!
+yet this one thing permit me to say, dear Sophie; when I received a
+letter from my somewhat coolheaded sister, telling me that your marriage
+was over, and all about it, I as completely, as unreservedly, resigned
+you, as ever martyr at the stake resigned the life that was forced from
+him, without the least expectation of ever seeing you again, far less of
+this, of this!” and Captain Wilde went off into raptures again, kissing
+her again at “this” and “this.”—“No, Sophie, I made up my mind to turn
+you out of my heart. I found it hard work; though I resolved to banish
+the thought of you, I struggled with it in vain! Struggling with a
+subject of thought—banishing a subject of thought, is a contradiction in
+terms; for while you have it by the head and shoulders, trying to put it
+out, you are more intertwined with it than ever, and it holds you fast.
+And I found, Sophie, that the only way to be rid of an inconvenient and
+intrusive image, was to fly from it, and I wrenched my attention off and
+riveted it upon another subject. It is a great thing, this free will of
+ours; I just had resolved to consider you as dead. I never inquired
+after you; and Emily, soon guessing my wish, never mentioned you in one
+of her letters. I studied the ancient languages, and soon, in the
+intervals of professional duty, I became quite absorbed in digging out
+Greek roots. It is an important duty, this government of the thoughts;
+they are the avenues by which good or evil approaches the soul. Only
+three weeks since, Sophie, it was that I learned that you had been free
+for nearly eighteen months. Only three weeks since, when coming into
+Boston harbor, I found a letter in the Post Office, long waiting from
+Emily.” He fell into a reverie for a few minutes, from which he started,
+exclaiming:—
+
+“Eight years! just think of it, Sophie! Eight years! and you are so much
+more beautiful and lovable—though once I did not think that could
+possibly be—but you are _so_ beautiful, Sophie! Ah! indeed, I think that
+sorrow and thought and time are sometimes great beautifiers. You are
+_so_ lovely—and I, Sophie! Sophie, I am thirty years old, how do you
+find me?”
+
+_She replied with her eyes!_ Her head was on his bosom, and her face
+upturned to his. His arm was around her waist, and his hand fondly
+nestling over both of hers. How long they sat thus, and into what deep
+silence they would fall while their spirits mingled! At last he said
+slowly, gently breaking the holy silence, reverentially:—
+
+“My Sophie, I have but two or three days to remain in this neighborhood.
+My leave of absence was for three weeks. I was nine days in coming from
+Boston. I have twelve days left for my visit and voyage back. I must
+allow myself ten days for my return to insure punctuality. Now, it is
+demonstrated that I have but two days, to-morrow and the next day, to
+remain here.”
+
+“But why?” inquired Sophie, tearfully, “why? I always thought officers
+in returning from a voyage had a long leisure before them?”
+
+“Yes, but, my dear, I have just been appointed to take command of a
+store-ship lying in Boston Harbor.”
+
+“Oh!”
+
+“Yes. So that I must leave. Let us see—this is Tuesday—I must leave
+Friday morning. You are not attending to me, Sophie?”
+
+“Oh, yes, I am indeed.”
+
+She had fallen into deep thought.
+
+“It may be six months before I can come again.”
+
+“Oh no, not so long as that!”
+
+“Most probably _longer_, Sophie!”
+
+She turned her face down upon his bosom, quietly weeping.
+
+“_Will you leave here with me Friday morning, Sophie?_”
+
+She did not answer.
+
+“Perhaps you think it an unlucky day. Will you go with me _Thursday_
+morning?”
+
+She raised her head, but did not reply. He drew it back upon his bosom,
+and looking down upon her blushing face, where the tear-drops lay like
+dew on the red rose, he said gently:—
+
+“I know where the trouble is, my Sophie; you are thinking what your
+neighbors will be likely to say if you marry so suddenly, to them so
+strangely—is not that it? But, Sophie, you will surely never weigh my
+affection and comfort against the gossip of a set of thoughtless
+neighbors? you will never do so,” said he earnestly, alarmed at her
+continued silence, and pressing her closely to his bosom,—“You will not
+weigh our happiness with etiquette!”
+
+“No,” she said, quietly, “not with etiquette will I weigh it, for I wish
+to go with you, Augustus; nor with duty _must_ I weigh it.”
+
+“What do you mean, dearest Sophie?” exclaimed he, anxiously.
+
+“Only this—there are some preliminaries to be arranged, that cannot be
+settled without you.”
+
+“Then, whatever they may be, they _are_ settled—just consider them
+settled, Sophie,” said he, earnestly.
+
+“But hear them; these are not things that can be despatched and
+forgotten; they may attend us some time. I would have you make no rash
+vows about them, Augustus.”
+
+“They are _settled_, I tell you, Sophie! _settled!_ Your will, your
+wishes, are enough—are paramount! Have I not confidence in you, dearest
+Sophie? More, far more, than I have in myself; they are _settled_!”
+exclaimed he, impetuously.
+
+“But you must know them to assist me.”
+
+“Very well; upon _that_ account, I will listen, darling; but first, mind
+you, Sophie, I am to understand, am I not, that when I have settled all
+these preliminaries, we are to be united, and leave _together_ on
+Thursday morning—ha! say, Sophie?”
+
+“Yes,” whispered Sophie, with a dying cadence.
+
+“Say! speak louder, Sophie. I mistrust my ears—did you say ‘yes’?”
+
+“Yes, yes!” said Sophie, blushing scarlet, with the tears in her eyes,
+“I said ‘yes.’”
+
+“Yes! Ah! stop, let me take time to take in all this idea of ‘yes.’
+Thursday morning, Sophie my wife! There is a point at which joy stuns
+one! Speak to me, Sophie!”
+
+“I think that you forget I have not told you my preliminaries.”
+
+“Oh, the preliminaries! any that _I_ have anything to do with? Never
+mind them, Sophie; but you are sure that you will not disappoint me
+Thursday morning? are you sure you will not put me off—tell me about
+dresses to be made, or a wedding party to be got up, or at least make a
+delay about breaking up housekeeping at Heath Hall? Ah, yes! certainly,
+I see now; these are the very preliminaries of which you speak; and how,
+alas! can we settle them in two days!”
+
+“Dear Augustus!” said Sophie, “do you think me so unconscious of the
+worth of your regard, and so ungrateful for it, as to think of trifling
+with it, or deferring our”—
+
+“Marriage?”
+
+“Yes; upon any but grounds of _duty_”—
+
+“Oh, dear, dear, dear! _what_ is it, then, Sophie; let us hear it quick!
+I listen, darling, punctilious little brown-eyed darling!”
+
+“Well, then, our Rosalia”—
+
+“Rosalia!”
+
+“Yes, Rosalia Aguilar—_our_ Rose, our beauty, our moonbeam, our love!”
+
+“You are enthusiastic, my Sophie!”
+
+“I am when I think of _her_! Oh, she is the very soul of love! My life
+became brighter, warmer, richer, when she came to me. That beautiful and
+loving child! her love bathes everything she looks upon in light and
+heat, as the sunbeams flood the landscapes! You will love her so much!
+She, the sweet child, loves all things—pities, spares, or ministers to
+all things, from the broken rose-tree that wants binding up, to the old
+negro toiling home at noon from his hard day’s work. I have seen the
+sweet child run and dip up a gourd of water from the bucket at the well,
+and carry to such a one, looking up so reverentially in his face, as
+though old age, toil, and suffering in any form, awoke her veneration.
+She is delicate and sensitive, too; she cannot bear the least unkind
+word or look; nor the least excess of cold or heat. This susceptible
+temperament, I think it is, that gives her such warm sympathies.”
+
+Captain Wilde was looking up with ardent admiration into the eloquent
+face of Sophie.
+
+“Ah, I see,” she continued, “that you admire her; and you will love her,
+oh! so much; your soul will go forth and bathe her with love as mine
+does. Oh, your soul will warm over her, glow over her, live around her.
+Your life will brighten into refulgence for loving Rosalia. Ah, yes! I
+see you will love her—you do love her. I see it in your speaking face.”
+
+“My own dear Sophie! I love you—_you_—my life brightens into refulgence
+in the light of _your_ love—_yours_, my Sophie, of the loving heart and
+eloquent lip.”
+
+“People have blamed me for loving Rosalia, but how can I help it? You
+will see how impossible it will be.”
+
+“Well, my beautiful Sophie (how radiant your face becomes in the praise
+of one you love), my beautiful Sophie! what has this little Rosalia to
+do with the postponement of our union?”
+
+“Merely this—Rosalia is my ward. She is now daily expected. If she
+should not arrive to-day, or to-morrow, I could not leave the
+neighborhood finally, of course, without seeing her—being assured of her
+safety—indeed, I should not like to leave her with Hagar?”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“Hagar is dangerous to one so tender as Rosalia. Would you put a dove in
+the guardianship of a young eagle? Hagar has a fine, high spirit—she
+would go through fire or flood to serve one she loved—but, mark you! she
+would cast that one she loved back into fire or flood if they should
+offend her. Therefore, with your consent, dear Augustus, I should wish
+to await Rosalia here, and take her with us to Boston.”
+
+Captain Wilde left her side and walked up and down the grapery for
+awhile. Then coming to her, he said,
+
+“I will write to the Department to-night for an extension of my leave of
+absence, Sophie.”
+
+“Will you? Oh! will you? I shall be so glad! Of course you will get it?”
+
+“Probably—yes; still these favors should be charily solicited, Sophie.”
+
+“I suppose so—well, if you do—I was about to say that we shall have the
+company of Hagar and Raymond, as well as that of Rosalia, on our
+journey. Raymond is appointed assistant professor at —— College, and
+they leave here in ten days.”
+
+“Oh!”
+
+“Will not that be very agreeable?”
+
+“I do not know, my dearest; I think I prefer your undivided company. So,
+Hagar and Raymond are going North?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“And what is to be done with Heath Hall?”
+
+“It _was_ to have been the residence of Rosalia and myself; now, I
+suppose, it is to be shut up and left so. We do not like to sell it.
+Indeed, it would bring but little; and some of us may like to come back
+some time to live in it. However! you know it will depend entirely upon
+the will of Raymond, for the property is now his, in right of his wife.”
+
+They had arisen now from their seats, and were sauntering slowly towards
+the house. The evening was beautiful, and the house was crowded, and
+spilling its company all over the piazza and yards. They separated and
+mingled with the guests. Once in her meandering about, Sophie felt
+herself enfolded by a pair of gentle arms and pressed to a soft, warm
+bosom. She was in Emily’s embrace—who stooped and murmured in her ear,
+“My sister! my sweet sister at last!” and let her go. Next she met
+Hagar’s wildly glancing eyes with a “Who’d have thought it?” sort of
+smile on her crimson lip, and then her hand was raised by Raymond and
+softly pressed to his lips, while his gentle eyes revealed the heartfelt
+congratulations it was yet premature to speak. And at last she rejoined
+Captain Wilde just as Hagar was giving him a pressing invitation to
+breakfast and dine at Heath Hall the next day, and just as he smiled and
+bowed acceptance.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXII.
+
+            “She is all simplicity,
+              A creature meek and mild,
+            Though on the eve of womanhood
+              In heart a very child.
+            She dwells among us like a star,
+              That from its bower of bliss,
+            Looks down, yet gathers not a stain
+              From aught it sees in this.”
+                                                MRS. WELBY.
+
+
+There was going to be another great day at Heath Hall; a breakfast,
+dinner, and ball. Such was Hagar’s will, and of course no one thought of
+opposing a bride in her honey-moon. Only old Cumbo swore in her wrath
+that before she would stay and cook for another such a “weddin’,” she
+would be “sold to Georgy;” which, in negro thought and dialect,
+expresses the very extremity of perdition. It was a great day at Heath
+Hall; the breakfast-table was set out under the shade between the rows
+of poplar trees, and it was loaded with the delicacies of the season,
+the peculiar delicacies of that favored neighborhood, game killed the
+day before, fresh fish, oysters, and soft crabs, caught that morning,
+&c., &c., &c. All the county, and—Captain Wilde were there, and after
+breakfast the company dispersed, and wandered over the house or grounds,
+or rowed out upon the bay at will.
+
+Hagar, Raymond, Sophie, and Captain Wilde were grouped upon the point of
+the promontory. The captain occasionally swept the whole expanse of the
+bay within range of the telescope he held to his eye, and dropped it
+with a sigh and a shake of the head. There was no sail in sight.
+
+“Have they not written to you, Mrs. Withers?”
+
+“No,” said Sophie, “not since Gusty left—we did not expect _that_; we
+expected them to hurry home with all possible expedition; oh, I grow so
+uneasy.”
+
+“Nay, do not be anxious, Sophie,” exclaimed Hagar, “if anything had
+happened you know that Gusty would have written.”
+
+“But I have been so fearful ever since that wreck,” sighed Sophie,
+paling.
+
+“That is one reason why _I_ am _not_ anxious,” said Hagar. “We have just
+had a wreck—such things do not occur frequently; that wreck will do for
+the next three or four years.”
+
+While she spoke, Tarquinius Superbus was seen strutting up the
+promontory from the hall; he came up to Sophie, and ducking his head by
+way of a salutation, said—
+
+“Mrs. Widders, madam, dere is an ’rival at de Hall, and Mrs. Buncombe,
+she ’quests you to come down.”
+
+“An arrival—have they breakfasted—who is it? Mrs. Green!”
+
+“It is Miss Aguilar and Mr. May, madam!”
+
+“Rosalia and Gusty! why did you not say so before, you stupid fellow!”
+exclaimed Hagar, “how could they have come, Sophie? They must have
+dropped from the sky. How did they come, Tarquin?”
+
+“In de poshay, Miss Rose, she ’fraid o’ water.”
+
+“Ah, that was it,” said Hagar, “I knew it was some of Rosalia’s
+cowardice and selfishness that has given you all this uneasiness,
+Sophie!”
+
+But Sophie was hurrying on, too happy to speak, far too happy.
+
+They reached the Hall.
+
+“Where is Rosalia? Where is she?” inquired Sophie, anxiously hurrying
+along in front of her party.
+
+“In her chamber, changing her travelling dress—go to her—I will attend
+her,” said Emily, as, at the same moment starting from her side, Gusty
+May sprang forward with strange gaiety in his manner, considering what
+we know of his then recent love-crosses, and grasped Sophie’s hand, and
+then Hagar’s, and then Raymond’s, and then Captain Wilde’s, shaking them
+all emphatically, joyously, as asking after everybody’s health, and
+explaining that he and Miss Aguilar had had a delightful overland
+journey in a post-chaise, because Rosalia was afraid of the water, &c.,
+&c.
+
+Sophie passed on up stairs, and Hagar was about to follow her, when
+Emily laid her hand on her shoulder, and murmured close to her ear—
+
+“Do not both of you leave your guests at the same time again, Hagar; you
+should remember the punctilious etiquette exacted by Mrs. Gardiner
+Green, and others present.”
+
+The spring of Hagar’s upper lip started as the spring of her foot was
+arrested; and with a “Mrs. Gardiner Green,” repeated in no very
+reverential tone, she stood still, especially as Raymond’s hand very
+softly fell upon her own just then.
+
+Sophie passed up stairs, and opened the door of Rosalia’s chamber,
+catching for a single instant a glimpse of this beautiful picture. The
+lovely girl reposed in a large, easy chair; her pale gold wavy hair,
+parted above her fair brow floated down her blue-veined temples, down
+her faint rose-tinted cheeks, down the tender undulations of her
+dove-like throat and bosom, and flowed upon the soft, white muslin that
+covered her form. As the door opened and Sophie flew towards her, she
+arose and dropped in her embrace; the gentle arms were around Sophie’s
+neck, the golden hair overflowing her, her soft form folded to her
+bosom, the warm heart throbbing against her heart, the warm lips pressed
+to her lips, and tears of joy slowly falling.
+
+“My love, my baby, my dove-eyed darling, welcome! welcome!” sobbed
+Sophie, pressing her again and again to her bosom. “Oh! is it possible
+that now I shall have you always with me, to see you as much as I
+please, to love you as much as I please, to kiss you! oh! my dove! my
+beauty! as often as I _must_. How have you been, Rose? how do you feel,
+Rose? are you well? are you much tired? what will you have, Rose? Come
+to the window and let me take a good look at you;” and Sophie drew her
+to the window, held her off and gazed upon her beauty as though she
+could have quaffed it up, and opening her arms, folded her again in an
+embrace, murmuring “oh! my child, my nursling, you are _so_ fair. Look
+at me, Rose; look at me, my darling! bless those dove eyes, with their
+brooding tenderness!” Then she sat down on the lounge, and drawing Rose
+to her side, passed her arms around her waist and said, looking down in
+her face lovingly, “I am going to be married soon, Rosalia; to be
+married to one whom I love, and who loves me above all things.”
+
+Rosalia’s eyes started, dilated, and then softened as she murmured, “And
+he loves you?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“And you love him?”
+
+“Yes, darling.”
+
+Rose stole her hands up around Sophie’s, and kissed her, exclaiming
+softly,
+
+“Oh! I am so glad, so glad, Sophie, dear Sophie!”
+
+They were both silent, because Rose was bending forward before her,
+holding both her hands and gazing lovingly up into her face. At last she
+inquired,
+
+“And is he gentle and kind—in a word, is he _good_!”
+
+“Very good, my little love.”
+
+“And handsome?”
+
+Sophie smilingly replied, “I think so, darling.”
+
+“Is he young?”
+
+“Well, _yes_!”
+
+“How young?”
+
+“Thirty!”
+
+“Oh, that is _old_.”
+
+“Why, no it is not, darling—except in the estimation of ‘sweet
+sixteen.’”
+
+“And Hagar is married—how funny!—and—how _serious_. What makes me feel
+so differently about your marriage and about Hagar’s, Sophie? Your
+marriage—the idea of it fills me with still religious joy, like _church_
+music swelling from the deep-toned organ, echoing through the lofty
+arches and filling one’s soul full of love and awe, tempered by faith.
+But Hagar’s marriage affects me like martial music that attends the
+troops in their embarkation—inspiring, animating, but sad, but painful.
+Now, why is this, why does my heart fill and overflow my eyes, when I
+think of Hagar’s being a wife; surely it is a happy destiny; and why,
+tell me why, when I kneel down night and morning to say my prayers, it
+comes into my head to pray _so earnestly_ for Hagar’s happiness—why do I
+weep now that Hagar is a happy bride? she is a _happy_ bride, is she
+not?”
+
+“Just as happy as _Hagar_ is capable of being, my love.”
+
+“As happy as you are?”
+
+“She should be.”
+
+“Then why do I feel so?”
+
+“I do not know, my love; possibly you feel that Hagar is too wild to
+make a quiet wife, too fierce to make a loving one, and too self-willed
+to become a complying one; while on the other hand you rest in the
+assurance that I am sober and common-place enough to make a quiet
+fireside comfortable.”
+
+“No, that is not it, I never studied that much in my whole life. But how
+do you feel about it, Sophie?”
+
+“My love, I had some of your forebodings, but I had a better reason than
+instinct for them, and now they are about dissipated. Hagar is naturally
+wild, fierce, self-willed, and scornful—but she has the very companion I
+should have selected for her happiness. Raymond is wise, gentle, and
+firm, or he impresses me in that way. You have never seen Raymond?”
+
+“Oh, no! you know, never. Is he like uncle?”
+
+“The very opposite in many things.”
+
+“There! dear Sophie, now please send Hagar to me. I want to see Hagar so
+much—but stay! perhaps Hagar might think I ought to go to _her_; she is
+so proud. But tell her, Sophie, that I am not dressed yet, and that I
+want so much for her to hug and kiss me here, before I go down to all
+those strangers.”
+
+And Sophie pressed her hands and withdrew from the room.
+
+Soon after the door was thrown quickly open, and Hagar sprang upon her
+cousin’s neck, half cutting her soft shoulders in the wire-like embrace
+of her slender arms, while the dark brow bent over the fair one, the
+blue-black ringlets glittered over the pale golden hair, and the deep
+carnation cheek met the pale, rose-tinted face an instant, and then she
+was released.
+
+“So, Hagar, you are married! dear me, how queer! is it not? Why, Hagar,
+you don’t look at all different, not a bit like a married woman.” And
+Rose got up and stood by her, and took her hand affectionately and
+looked up merrily in her face, “dear me, no! not at all like a married
+woman; Mrs. Withers! goodness! do they call you ‘Mrs. Withers,’ Hagar?
+and do you always remember to answer to that name—and how do you like
+being married, sure enough, Hagar—Mrs. Withers, I mean? Don’t turn your
+head away and crimson and darken so, while scorn and mirth gleam and
+flash from under your eye-lashes and upper lip; and don’t laugh—don’t
+_you_ laugh if I do; it is no laughing matter; I feel it so most of the
+time when I think of it. Oh, Hagar, my only sister that I ever knew, I
+do pray for your happiness morning and evening!”
+
+“Thank you.”
+
+“Now tell me about Raymond, he is young, handsome, graceful,
+accomplished, and all that; but tell me, is he _gentle_?”
+
+“_Gentle!_ why do you ask, Rosalia? _Gentle!_ I gave him my hand—that is
+your fit answer, dear.”
+
+“Yes, I know—I asked because—I may say it to you without blame now,
+Hagar—because his _father_ was not gentle, you know—and—and we sometimes
+love those who are not gentle with us, Hagar,” and her soft eyes were
+suffused.
+
+“Yes,” exclaimed Hagar, “and then there is even in seeming gentleness,
+sometimes gentle strength, gentle force, gentle firmness, more
+irresistible, more inevitably enslaving, than rudeness, roughness,
+violence could be,” and the dark girl’s soul half gleamed from her
+countenance like a dagger half-drawn from its sheath.
+
+“What do you mean, Hagar—dear Hagar, what do you mean?”
+
+“Nothing! I mean that it is time for you to dress and come down—and I
+mean that you must not ask me any more questions. Come, let me be your
+dressing-maid for once, and—but no matter, I fear I should make a
+failure in the essay,” and taking up a hand-bell, she rang it at the
+door. A negro girl came in, and with her assistance the toilet of
+Rosalia was soon made. Her golden hair was arranged in ringlets; her
+dress was a light blue silk; her fair neck and arms were bare, and
+adorned with a pearl necklace and bracelets. Hagar wore a black lace
+dress. Now, as Hagar clasped the last bracelet on her arm (she did that
+for her), standing with her before the mirror, nothing could have been
+more unlike in feminine beauty than these two girls. Hagar, so small,
+straight, dark, and sparkling—Rosalia so fair, soft, and gentle.
+
+“Come, now, let us go down into the drawing-room, Rose.”
+
+“But see here, dear Hagar, I must go in the kitchen, and see Aunt[6]
+Cumbo first; I know she wants to see me so much, so do I her.”
+
+Footnote 6:
+
+  In the country parts of Maryland and Virginia, the children and young
+  people usually call the old negroes “Aunt” or “Uncle.” Further south,
+  “Mammy,” or “Daddy” so and so.
+
+“But, my dear—”
+
+“Oh, but _please_ let me, dear Hagar; for poor old Cumbo, you know, we
+must not slight her, because she is old and—no, we must not slight her;”
+and looking pleadingly at Hagar she passed out slowly before her, and
+stole down the back stairs. Hagar followed her. They went through an end
+door, and making a circuit to avoid meeting any one, reached the
+kitchen. The old woman was busy, and grumbling over her culinary
+operations before the fire, as Rose stood in her blooming loveliness in
+the door.
+
+“Aunt Cumbo, how do you do?” said she, approaching. At the sound of her
+voice the old woman dropped ladle and pan, and turning around, gazed at
+her through bleared eyes.
+
+“Oh, Aunt Cumbo, don’t you know me? It’s me—Rose,” said she, going and
+taking the black old withered hand in her own.
+
+“Oh, it’s my baby! it’s my baby! it’s my sweet, lovely baby come back to
+its old mammy again!” and the old creature fell weeping over her
+shoulders.
+
+“Oh, Rose, shake her off—don’t you see she is ruining your dress.”
+
+“Oh, no! would you hurt her poor old feelings about a dress? her poor
+old feelings!” said Rose, raising her hands and stroking her withered
+cheeks, and looking kindly into the dim face.
+
+“My baby! Oh, de little soft cotton wool hands!—bress Gor A’mighty for
+lettin’ old nigger lib to see her baby once more ‘fore she go—see if old
+mammy ain’t got anoder biscuit in her bosom for it—no, dey ain’t bake
+yet; nebber min’ she’ll save one, and you set down dere, on dat ‘tool,
+while mammy roas’ a sweet tatoe for you;” and the old creature put her
+gently down on a stool, and went to rummaging under an old locker. Again
+Rose’s eyes were full of tears, and she said in a low tone to Hagar—
+
+“She is in her second childhood, Hagar; you did not prepare her for
+this; poor old human being; nothing at all left of her but the loving
+heart. They tell me that it is the first thing that lives, and the last
+that dies.”
+
+“You had better look at your dress.”
+
+“How can she do her work?”
+
+“Mechanically—we do not wish her to work; but I believe she would die if
+she had not the privilege of cooking and grumbling; and Rose, don’t be a
+fool—she is well enough; you know it is so with all these Guinea
+negroes; they have such tenacity of vitality, that their strength of
+body outlives for years the decay of their mental faculties; besides,
+she is seldom so confused as this. Your sudden arrival has startled her,
+and jostled past and present together in her apprehension; but come now,
+Rosalia, you must come into the house;” and Rosalia went up to the fire
+and said—
+
+“Aunty!—mammy!—you will let me go into the parlor with the other ladies;
+you know—”
+
+“But, honey, de tatoe ain’t roas’ yet!” replied the old woman, as she
+raked the ashes over the sweet root.
+
+“Well, aunty, when the potatoe is done you send Tarquinius for me, and
+I’ll come out here and eat it.”
+
+“Yes, honey! yes, my baby! and when you go in house you jes speak to
+Miss Sophie ’bout ’Quinius ’Perbus; he too much mun—don’t min’ nuffin
+‘tall I say, till I have to switch him some ob dese days; you min’ now.”
+And they left the kitchen.
+
+Rosalia Aguilar had come home to no very near relations, to no mother,
+father, sister, or brother; yet never did any child returning to
+idolizing parents meet with a more tender and enthusiastic reception,
+from Sophie down to old Cumbo, and thence down to the cat that ran
+between her feet, crossing before them, rubbing her sides against them,
+and impeding her steps as she walked into the drawing-room. A low murmur
+of irrepressible admiration saluted her as she entered—old friends then
+crowded around, and new acquaintances were introduced to her, and it was
+half an hour before the beauty and the pet was left in quiet possession
+of her sofa. Sophie sat on one side of her, Captain Wilde on the other.
+At this moment Raymond Withers entered the room bowing and smiling, and
+passing up to Hagar, who stood by one of the open windows, he said—
+
+“Which is your cousin?—I have not been introduced to her yet.”
+
+“Have you not?—I will present you, then,—but first,” said Hagar,
+covertly watching his countenance, “look at her and tell me what you
+think of her. There, now you have a good opportunity of observing her
+without attracting her notice; there she is, seated between Sophie and
+Captain Wilde, talking with the latter.”
+
+Raymond’s eyes followed the indication of her glance. Rosalia’s form was
+slightly bent towards Captain Wilde, and her face was softening and
+glowing under the inspiration of their conversation. Raymond slightly
+started—his gaze became fixed—absorbed—Hagar’s eyes burned into his
+countenance, but he did not feel it.
+
+“Well,” at last she said, “what do you think of her?”
+
+He did not reply—his eyes were riveted upon the group on the sofa.
+Hagar’s eyes were fixed on his face—her lips compressed until the blood
+left them pale.
+
+“Well,” she said, again, speaking very slowly and distinctly, “what do
+you think of Rosalia?”
+
+He did not seem to hear her; his soul was absorbed. Now all the fire
+seemed to have left Hagar’s lips and cheeks, and to be concentrated in
+the intensely glowing eyes that burned into the face of her husband, and
+he did not feel it!
+
+At last a motion, a change of attitude, a raising of Rosalia’s eyes,
+dissolved the spell, and he turned to Hagar.
+
+“Well,” said she, with pale lips, “how do you like her?”
+
+“She is beautiful! beautiful! the most perfectly beautiful living thing
+I ever saw. In all my dreams of beauty, I never saw a vision of
+loveliness like that! Do but see, Hagar!—the heavenly love and
+tenderness in her air and manner; one looking at her, fears that she may
+fade into air like a vision of poetry.”
+
+“Shall I take you up and present you?” she asked, in a low voice.
+
+He might have observed—_must_ have observed, the painful constraint of
+her manner, but that his attention was so concentrated.
+
+“Shall I take you up and present you?”
+
+“No, no, love! not yet—I wish to observe her from this point a little
+longer.”
+
+She bit her lips until the blood started—her eyes seemed drawn inwards
+in their intense burning.
+
+“Well, then, will you excuse me, Raymond? I wish to leave the room.”
+
+“No, love! no! I cannot spare you—you have been away from me too long
+this morning already,” and he closed his hand firmly upon hers, while he
+still poured his gaze upon the sofa group.
+
+At last she spoke again—“Raymond,” and pressed his hand to call his
+attention,—“_Raymond!_”
+
+“Well, love!”
+
+She spoke so low that he had to stoop to catch her words.
+
+“Do you not think that if before our union you had seen Ro—”
+
+“Well?”
+
+“Nothing—nothing—I had better not—see! they are looking over here—come!
+now let me introduce you.”
+
+He now first observed her pallor.
+
+“It seems to me you do not look well to-day, Hagar.”
+
+She smiled bitterly.
+
+“Perhaps not—_to you!_” she added, mentally.
+
+“Are you not well?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Why do you look so haggard, then?”
+
+“_To you?_ The force of contrast!—and your eyes are dazzled.”
+
+“I must know what you mean, Hagar, but here we are,” he whispered, as
+they paused before the sofa.
+
+Hagar presented him, and Rosalia arose, in her simple, affectionate way,
+and offered her rosy cheek to the kiss of Raymond, as her relative.
+Captain Wilde, starting from his seat, exclaimed,
+
+“Come, Withers, I will do the magnanimous, although it costs some
+self-denial, I assure you, yet you shall have my place—come, Mrs.
+Withers, senior!”
+
+And going round to Sophie he drew her arm through his own, and walked
+her away to the piazza, leaving her place to Hagar, who immediately
+assumed it.
+
+“Now!” said Sophie, her brown eyes dilated, blazing with light and joy,
+“what do you think of my Rose—is she not beautiful?—is she not sweet,
+blooming, fragrant?”
+
+“Beautiful!—stop, Sophie! don’t set me off!—you know I am ‘gusty’
+(_stormy_), when I get an imposing subject! Beautiful!—why she
+_radiates_ beauty—no one can sit by her or talk with her without
+catching beauty! growing beautiful! Did you observe that poor old
+Gardiner Green, how, as he talked with her, all the latent goodness and
+gladness that were smouldering in the bottom of his heart, was kindled
+up and broke through his face, lighting up his winter-apple cheeks and
+black eye-brows until they glowed with beauty, as an autumn landscape
+glows in the sunbeams!”
+
+“Oh, you admire her; you love her; you are a poet!”
+
+“She has made me one!”
+
+“I _knew_ you would love her—still I am so glad to _feel_ it.”
+
+“Love her! dearest Sophie! I was prepared to love her for your sake; now
+I love her for her own!”
+
+“And I _knew_ you would, as I said, and now I rejoice to feel it; now,
+then, you feel the same pleasure that I do in the thought of having the
+sweet girl with us?”
+
+“Have her with us! Yes, that is the best of it—we shall have her with
+us—by our fireside in winter, and about our piazza in summer, and all
+around us—so we can see her always, and caress her as much as we please,
+and love her as dearly, and make her beautiful being as happy as
+possible—have her with us—see here, Sophie, I am afraid I should be
+tempted to kick any fellow who should come courting her—yet of course it
+must come to that, and it will come very soon to that. Beauty and
+sensibility and susceptibility like hers will not long remain unwooed,
+unwed, in a naval station full of gay and romantic young officers; and
+even now I am afraid Hagar will be wanting her, and that Rosalia will
+prefer to go with the companion of her childhood—and that chap, Raymond,
+will take sides with them, and we shall lose the dear girl after all.”
+
+“You need not be afraid of that. Hagar does not want her. Hagar loves no
+human being, neither man, woman, nor child, no one except Raymond.
+Hagar’s affections are very concentrative. She has never loved any
+creature but Raymond, and she has loved him intensely from childhood,
+and indeed I fear there is as much tyranny as tenderness in her
+affection for her husband.”
+
+“Oh! well! never mind them, Sophie; let them torture and transport each
+other in turn, as young lovers of their temperament must for a while;
+only let them leave this charming Rosalia to light our sober, quiet
+home. What are you laughing at, you partridge?”
+
+“Thinking how very sober any home is going to be that calls such a
+boisterous fellow as you are, master.”
+
+“Humph! but, Sophie, but it will be _you_ that will make it quiet, my
+love! my dove! _you_, Sophie—come! does not my boisterousness subside
+into gentle joy by your side? Say, am I not quiet enough?—I can get
+quieter!”
+
+“No, don’t—I—I think—perhaps I like you all the more for being just what
+you are.”
+
+“Are you really contented with me, Sophie?—I have been so much afraid,
+sometimes, that my ‘boisterousness’ should shock and alarm you—now does
+it, ever?”
+
+“Never—never—it is never rude or violent, you know, Gusty, and it only
+lifts my own sober cheerfulness into agreeable gaiety.”
+
+You do not care to hear all that was said by the partners in this
+“mutual admiration” firm—they walked and talked, as long as _you_ walked
+and talked, with you remember whom—or as long as you _expect_ to walk
+and talk with, perhaps you _do not_ know whom. They did not return to
+the house until summoned to dinner. A large company sat down at table. A
+dancing party in the evening closed the day, and the guests dispersed.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXIII.
+                          THE BRIDE’S PARTING.
+
+            “From the home of childhood’s glee,
+            From the days of laughter free,
+            From the love of many years,
+            Thou art gone to cares and fears;
+            To another path and guide,
+            To a bosom yet untried!
+            Bright one, oh! there well may be
+            Trembling ’midst our joy for thee.”
+                                                MRS. HEMANS.
+
+
+“Mother! is not Rosalia to stay with you?” asked Gusty May, as he
+lingered over a late breakfast with his mother.
+
+“Why, _no_, Gusty, certainly not! what put such a thing in your head?”
+
+“Why, mother, it came there naturally enough, as Rose lived with us many
+years before she went to school, and as you always seemed so fond of
+her, and she also seemed so necessary to you, I thought, of course, you
+would like to have her again.”
+
+“But you know, my dear, _why_ Rose lived with us; that reason no longer
+exists, and Rose goes with her natural guardians.”
+
+“And, mother, who _are_ her natural guardians? Two new brides, quite
+lost in the glory of their bridehood; have _they_ thought or care for
+Rosalia?”
+
+“Sophie has.”
+
+“Yes, but Sophie! Sophie is so innocent. Sophie is going to live—didn’t
+you know it? on board the store-ship.”
+
+“Ship!”
+
+“Lord bless you, _yes_, mother! aboard the store-ship uncle commands.
+There is an elegant cabin, furnished luxuriously as any city
+drawing-room, and far beyond anything you see down in this neighborhood.
+Well, as I was saying, Sophie will live there—now is that a desirable
+home for a young girl like Rosalia, among all those gay, young officers,
+with a chaperone no wider awake than Sophie is, with a guardian merry
+and wild as Uncle Gusty?—and I tell you, mother, those young officers
+are devils of fellows—you know I know them.”
+
+Emily fell into thought a moment, and then she said,
+
+“Sophie is indeed very abstracted, and my brother, as you say, is wild;
+but then there is Hagar; I think that it were better she resided with
+Hagar.”
+
+“What, mother, with Hagar! don’t you know that Raymond proposes to board
+the first year? and with the narrow salary of an under professor, will
+Raymond be able to take her? Besides, a girl dependent, as she is,
+should be made to feel that she has quite a choice of homes, that many
+hearts and doors are ready to fly open to her.”
+
+“You know that I should love to have her with me, Gusty. I will invite
+her, press her to come. I do not think, however, that either Sophie or
+my brother will be willing to resign her.”
+
+“Thank you, dear mother! thank you!” exclaimed Gusty, jumping up and
+kissing her, “oh! thank you—‘willing!’ no, I don’t indeed suppose they
+will be willing to resign her—who _could_, in fact? nevertheless, we
+must try to overrule them.”
+
+“You run quite enthusiastic upon the subject, Master Gusty!” exclaimed
+Emily, looking at him attentively.
+
+“Enthusiastic, mother! Gracious Heavens, mother! one must be cold, dead,
+yes, a _corpse_—a corpse! I mean a _statue_—one must never have _had_
+life—a statue! I should rather have said a _block of marble_—one must
+never have had _form_ not to be inspired with enthusiasm by that
+girl—that seraph!”
+
+“Hey! Master Gusty! have you fallen in love with Rosalia?”
+
+“Speak low, mother! Oh! breathe her name in flute-like tones—for,
+mother! when I speak of enthusiasm, I mean the rapt enthusiasm of the
+adoring saint for his guardian angel! the silent enthusiasm with bended
+knees, clasped hands, and upraised eyes, mother!”
+
+“Humph! not the enthusiasm for instance that Hagar inspired some weeks
+ago—a passion that was going to compel you to send the planets whirling
+against each other!” archly smiled Emily.
+
+“Mother, no more of that ‘an you love me.’”
+
+“So you have got over your phrensy for Hagar?”
+
+“Why, mother,—_of course_,” said Gusty, assuming a look of shocked
+propriety, “_of course_—you did not suppose I was going to keep on
+loving her _now_, did you?”
+
+“I should hope not, certainly; and I am glad your lips confirm my hope.”
+
+“I am a man of honor, mother!” said Gusty, dilating.
+
+“Certainly you are, my love! I am very sure of that—nevertheless, Master
+Gusty, I cannot really give you credit for the exertion of any great
+moral power in this affair. I think that your passion has been conquered
+as the Indians conquer danger when pursued by the flames of a burning
+prairie—fire by fire—love by love.”
+
+“Stop, mother! be just—despair and conscience did much for me even
+before I left her.”
+
+“And yet that was a great infatuation of yours, and now here is another
+quite as great—I am afraid you are fickle, Gusty! Have you really quite
+ceased to regret Hagar?”
+
+“Quite, mother.”
+
+“And care nothing at all about her?”
+
+“Oh! stop—_yes_, I care a great deal about her in—in a brotherly way,
+you understand! in fact, just as I always _did_, until I had to go mad
+about her, you know. Care about Hagar? yes! I guess I do! Let any fellow
+crook his finger at Hagar, and see if he don’t get his neck twisted,
+that’s all? It is singular that I should have got into such a delirium,
+is it not, though? and more singular that I should have got out of
+it—don’t you think so, mother?”
+
+“No, indeed—it is perfectly natural—the ‘harder it storms the sooner it
+is over’ is an acknowledged atmospherical fact, and by all that ever I
+have seen, it is as true of passionate as it is of atmospheric storms. I
+hope that you will never marry during the raging of any phrensy of
+passion—for, if you do, you will be very apt to make yourself and
+another miserable for the rest of your lives.”
+
+“You may well call it a phrensy—a storm, mother! Gracious Heavens! yes!
+That intoxicating Hagar! I used to reel away from her whirling,
+spinning, tipsy! That electric Hagar! she would flash into my soul blaze
+after blaze, like the lightning of a dark, tempestuous night, dazzling,
+blinding, stunning me!”
+
+“And this other?”
+
+“_And this other_—oh! stop, mother; put a long pause between _that_
+and—‘this other,’ and sink your voice low, like you were whispering in a
+church—this other dawns on my soul like a soft, rosy morn, faintly,
+gently, sweetly, and bright and brightening! Hagar broke the silence of
+my heart as with a laugh, a shout, a whoop, a halloa! ‘This other’
+_steals_ upon the ear like a soft note of music, rising and swelling
+into harmony and volume!”
+
+“My poet!”
+
+“No, mother, not your _poet_; I feel more like your _apostle_—I feel
+when I think of her more like saying my prayers—I feel while sitting by
+her as if I were doing a meritorious thing; my heart is hushed into a
+holy content and calm, such as one feels when taking a seat in the
+church while the organ is pealing ‘gloria in excelsis,’ or the preacher
+is reading ‘The Lord is in His holy temple—let all the earth keep
+silence before Him.’”
+
+“Do not be irreverent, Gusty.”
+
+“Oh, I am not, mother; indeed, so far from it, that I never thought of
+the Lord so much, worshipped the Lord so much, felt the Lord’s presence
+in all the beautiful sights and sounds of nature so much, as during that
+heavenly journey with Rosalia. Let me tell you about it, mother—good,
+best mother, you know I tell you everything—always did ever since I was
+a boy.”
+
+“Everything, Gusty?”
+
+“Well, yes—that is—_almost_ everything. Well, you know after I set out
+from here, I tried not to think of Hagar, but the more I struggled with
+the image, the more intensely I thought of her.”
+
+“Of course; you should have _fled_ from the subject, fixed your
+attention on something else—never let your thoughts struggle with a
+sinful subject—fly from it.”
+
+“Yes. Well, I was a little shy of meeting Rose—she always _was_
+delicate, sensitive, and refined—and I thought two years in a
+boarding-school had educated and refined her tastes and manners up to
+the highest fine lady standard. Well, when I got to Boston, and when I
+reached the outskirts of the town, and when I passed the gate in front
+of Mrs. Tresham’s marble and stuccoed mansion, I felt embarrassed. I had
+to recollect that I was an officer in the United States Navy, mother! I
+had to turn all the way back to my hotel, wait half a day to get a card
+engraved, put on my best new uniform, get a pair of lavender-colored
+gloves, and a cambric handkerchief—throw myself into a carriage and ride
+there (I had walked before), and all for fear Miss Aguilar should think
+me rough, countryfied. Well, I made coachee get down and ring the bell,
+take in my card, ‘Augustus W. May, U. S. N.’ Come, I thought, that would
+do—that was going it _en grand seignior_. Presently I alighted, and was
+shown into the parlor. Magnificent, mother! precisely like a wealthy
+merchant’s drawing-room; and while I was waiting there—sitting on a fine
+crimson velvet seat, lolling back with one arm grandly thrown over the
+back of the chair, throwing back my shoulders, expanding my chest; in
+fact, enlarging and dilating generally and sublimely! telling myself all
+the time that I was Aug. W. May, U. S. N.,—the door swung noiselessly
+open, and a tall lady, in stiff black satin and a turban, entered,
+followed by a lovely girl, with golden ringlets flashing down upon her
+light blue silk dress. While I arose and was flourishing my grandest
+bow, and the lady elaborating her profoundest curtsey, Rosalia, the dear
+girl! floated towards me, holding out her dear white arms, and warbling,
+‘Gusty, Gusty!’ just as when she was a baby, and I a lad. I forgot that
+I was Aug. W. May, U. S. N. I forgot Madam Tresham—and Gusty Wilde
+started—sprang—clasped Rosy in his arms, to his bosom, and kissed her
+eyes, and nose, and mouth, while the room spun round for joy! and he was
+just about to whirl Rosy all around the room in a reel, when he was
+arrested by the sight of her Royal Highness, Madam Tresham, sinking
+superbly into a chair, elevating her double chin with slow haughtiness;
+then he dropped Rose, and blushed, and bowed and sat down.
+
+“‘Your _brother_, of course, I presume, Miss Aguilar?’ she said,
+elevating her chin sublimely.
+
+“Now, she _knew_ better, of course she did; she said that out of an
+air.”
+
+“In rebuke, Gusty, and she was right; you behaved indecorously.”
+
+“See here, mother, can I help it? When my blood gives one jump from my
+heart to the top of my head and the tips of my fingers!”
+
+“Well, what did Rosalia reply?”
+
+“She said, ‘Oh, no, dear madam, he is not my brother; but we were
+brought up together,’ and the old lady said ‘Ah!’ and then I handed my
+credentials, Sophie’s letter requesting the presence of Miss Aguilar. I
+swear madam did not seem inclined to comply! however, next day we set
+off by stage for New York, because Rose was afraid of water, and we
+travelled by coach as far as Baltimore, and then, as no stage runs this
+route, we were obliged to take a chaise, and oh! was not that a
+delightful journey,—a glimpse of Heaven, mother! a specimen of life in
+Paradise, those three days’ journey in the chaise! I and Rose alone; the
+dear girl, how many times she would get out to rest the horse and walk
+by my side while I led him up the hill! Now, mother, don’t forget;
+you’ll invite Rose, won’t you?”
+
+“Of course.”
+
+“You love Rose, don’t you?”
+
+“Yes, as a daughter.”
+
+“And you would take her for a daughter, wouldn’t you?”
+
+“Most willingly.”
+
+“That’s you, mother.”
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+Rosalia was in demand. That same morning Raymond Withers stood by the
+mantel-piece, his elbow resting upon the top, his head leaned upon his
+hand, his eyes bent down upon the slight figure of Hagar, whom he held
+in a half embrace with the other arm.
+
+“Hagar, love,” he said, in his flute-like tones.
+
+“Well, Raymond!”
+
+“What disposition is to be made of your cousin?”
+
+“Rosalia?”
+
+“Of course, Rosalia.”
+
+“She is to reside with Captain Wilde and Sophie.”
+
+“I want you to invite her to accompany us—to live with us, in fact,—to
+make one of our family.”
+
+Hagar was silent.
+
+“Well, Hagar?”
+
+She did not reply.
+
+“Will you invite her to-day, Hagar? we have but a few days left, and the
+child should know where she is going. Invite her to-day, Hagar—now!”
+
+Hagar’s eyes were rooted to the rug.
+
+“You do not reply, Hagar: perhaps you would rather _I_ should speak to
+her myself, and yet methinks it would beseem _you_ more; shall I invite
+Rosalia, or you?”
+
+“Just as you please.”
+
+“Then you speak to her, and let me know her decision, will you?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“When?”
+
+“At the first opportunity.”
+
+“You speak coldly, I had almost said sullenly, Hagar. Do you not like
+this plan?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“Do not press me for a reason, Raymond; why should _you_ be so anxious
+for Rosalia to become an inmate of our family?”
+
+“First, because it is only common kindness to a young relative who is
+depending upon some of us to offer her a home; and secondly, because I
+am very much pleased with Rosalia, and think that she will be quite an
+acquisition to our fireside.”
+
+Her hand was in his as she stood by his side; but her forehead was bent
+forward against the lower part of the chimney-piece, so that her long,
+extremely long blue-black ringlets hung down below her stomacher, like a
+veil concealing her face, hiding the corrugating brow, gleaming eyes,
+flushed cheek, and quivering lips.
+
+“Miss Aguilar is not dependent for a home—her father left her a small
+property.”
+
+“I do not say and did not mean that she was dependent for a roof to
+shelter her fair head, or a board to sit at, but if she has ever such a
+fortune she is a young, delicate, sensitive girl, and she _is_ dependent
+on some of us for a _home_, for kindness, tenderness, affection.”
+
+“She has all that, or will have all that with Sophie and Captain Wilde.”
+
+“Nevertheless let her feel that she is encompassed with affection—poor
+girl, she has no _parents_, let her feel that she has _friends_.”
+
+Hagar was again silent. Then he spoke.
+
+“What is your objection to our plan?”
+
+“We are going to board, as I understand, and so we have after all no
+home of our own to offer her.”
+
+“But we are _not_ going to board—I have changed my plan.”
+
+“Since when?” inquired Hagar, with a slightly sarcastic tone.
+
+“Since my tenant moved out of my house on the Hudson!” replied Raymond,
+coldly.
+
+“Oh! I did not know you owned a house anywhere.”
+
+“Probably _not_! you have no _means_ of knowing—you have just learned
+_that_ fact for the first time, as you will soon learn _others_, my
+love!”
+
+“What others?” sneered Hagar.
+
+“No matter now—invite Rosalia to come with us as I requested you, my
+dear, will you?”
+
+“Yes, I will—Raymond.”
+
+“Well, love?”
+
+“You seem very much charmed with Rosalia!”
+
+“I am—I could not tell you _how_ much charmed with her—she is a seraph!”
+
+“Raymond!” she spoke huskily now, “suppose you had met Rosalia before
+our marriage, even before our engagement?”
+
+“Well!”
+
+“Do you not think that you would have rather loved and wooed _her_ than
+_me_—that you, even now, were we free, would prefer her?”
+
+“Prefer her!”
+
+“Prefer her to _me_—could you not love Rosalia better than Hagar?” said
+she, speaking with great rapidity. “She is fair, full formed. I am
+small, thin, and dark. She is soft, gentle, sensitive. I am wild,
+fierce, and proud, proud to every one but _you_, Raymond. She is tender.
+I am hard. She is graceful. I am rude. She is all that is lovely,
+fascinating in form, features, temper, and manners. I am all that is
+repellent in person, character, and deportment—every one loves her—all
+dislike me.”
+
+“Hagar.”
+
+“Tell me, Raymond, have you not followed the stream in this general,
+this inevitable admiration and love?”
+
+“Hagar!”
+
+“Have you not claimed my hand too hastily? Do you not now regret it,
+wishing that you had waited longer and looked further—lamenting that you
+had not seen Rosalia while you were yet disengaged?”
+
+“_Hagar!_”
+
+“You do not deny it! You only echo and re-echo, ‘Hagar!’ ‘Hagar.’ Yes,
+_Hagar_! that is my name, my fit name—what strange prophetic inspiration
+was it that made them drop my proper name of Agatha and call me ‘Hagar?’
+Alas! I might have known it, Raymond! Oh! did I not _beg_ you to defer
+our marriage? Alas! what forebodings were mine! Truly coming events cast
+their shadows before! Oh! Raymond, I might have known—Rosalia has won in
+succession every heart from me—first Sophie’s, then Mr. Withers’s, the
+servants’, the neighbors’, Mrs. May’s, and lately, think of it! I _was_
+really glad of _that_, not knowing what an omen it was! lately,
+_Gusty’s_. A month ago Gusty was perfectly infatuated with my poor face,
+raved, talked of blowing his brains out. Well! two weeks ago he set out
+for Rosalia, met her again, brought her home, and now he raves more
+about Rosalia’s shoe or glove than he ever did about my whole being! And
+then! and then! oh! God, you, Raymond, _you_! If you could have seen
+yourself when I first pointed her out to you, as _I_ saw you, drunk with
+her beauty!”
+
+Her blood was kindling in her veins, while her bosom heaved and set with
+the motion of the hidden fire that blazed and died and blazed upon her
+cheeks, as you have seen a red flame in the night rise and fall waved by
+the wind—while her eyes scintillated sparks.
+
+“I wish,” she said, “that as I am so much smaller, I were soft and weak
+like other women! that I had more lymph, and so could easily melt! could
+weep! I can _not_—I am _hard_—my muscles are like tempered _steel_—they
+imprison a strong grief that rages, burns, and rends, finding no escape,
+no vent, no expression! I wish that I could weep! could die! like other
+women.”
+
+During all this rhapsody, Raymond had been looking down on her with the
+greatest calmness of attitude and expression—his head still supported by
+the arm that rested on the mantel-piece—his eyes quietly observing her.
+Now he took her hot and quivering hand and led her to the window—there
+were two chairs facing each other at this open window. He motioned her
+into one, dropping into the other himself—he took both of her hands into
+his own and gazed into her agonized countenance a minute, and then said:
+
+“Hagar! look me in the face, look me straight in the eyes, come!” and as
+she raised her eyes piercing with anguish to _his_ eyes, there was a
+sedative influence emanating from his manner that acted upon her nerves,
+reducing her to quiet, she knew not how or wherefore. He held her hands
+thus, looking straight into her fascinated eyes thus for a few moments,
+and then his flute-like tones gently stole on the silence as he said,
+
+“Hagar! I love peace, quietude, repose, benign repose. I love low tones,
+soft footsteps, gentle manners, sweet smiles, and complying tempers
+around me, and I must have them—look straight in my eyes and see if you
+do not feel that I _will_ have them? So, Hagar, no more of this tragic
+acting, if you please, my love.”
+
+Her eyes were fixed full on his, in a vague but painful surprise; she
+did not attempt yet to reply.
+
+“It is this harmonious repose that charms me so in Rosalia.”
+
+“Then why,” she murmured at last, “why were you ever attracted to one so
+every way opposite as myself?”
+
+“Because you can be made every way better; one don’t want a character
+_all_ cotton wool; a good steel spring that rebounds from pressure is
+not unpleasant in your organization. I like to know that there is a
+strength, force, energy in you when required, but I like
+it—_latent_—under perfect _command_—do you mark! and you are not,
+because you happen to have a whole magazine of artillery and ammunition,
+to fire and flame and blaze away at such a rate! _or in the least
+degree_; you must grow tame, my wild love.”
+
+“My peculiarities, then, are not altogether repulsive to you; you love
+me, despite of them all!”
+
+“I love you _because_ of them all, my Hagar; and—but _mind_!” and here
+his voice sank to a lower key and deeper tone than she had ever heard,
+and his gaze was steadily fixed on hers, “_You must place confidence in
+me_; that I demand! without that your love is worthless to me; mine to
+you. I love Rosalia, but not in the way you imagine, foolish girl. I
+would not marry her if I could. You spoke of my admiration of her last
+evening. I was ‘drunk’ with gazing on her beauty—a delicate word for a
+lady, by the way—never let me hear it from your lips again, Hagar! I was
+‘entranced,’ &c.—now observe, I will illustrate—last week you and I rode
+out together; it was a beautiful evening, and the sun was sinking like a
+world in flames, lighting up into flashing splendor half a hemisphere of
+crimson purple and gold sky, of blue water, and green hills and vales;
+and you, drawing rein upon the brink of a lofty cliff, gazed rapt upon
+the scene until your face was as a small mirror reflecting all the glow
+of the sunset—your soul seemed pouring from your eyes, until the sun
+sank behind a bank of clouds that lay like a low range of blue mountains
+immediately on the horizon, and then the spell that bound your revery
+was dissolved.” Oh! how intensely her eyes burned into _his_ eyes while
+he spoke; he continued speaking slowly. “As you, upon the brow of the
+cliff gazed, gazed on the sun-set’s glory; so _I_ gazed upon the young
+girl’s beauty!”
+
+“Ah! ah!” said she, with wild energy, “but I was upon _the brow of the
+cliff_! the brink of destruction, where a single mis-step would have
+precipitated me into ruin; and I was pouring my soul out through my
+eyes, I was entranced until the glory was lost in clouds, the light in
+darkness. Alas! _wail_ for your illustration, Raymond!” and suddenly
+springing from him she fled up the stairs to her eyrie. He stood looking
+after her a moment, and then followed her leisurely. He found her in an
+excited stillness, gazing “too earnestly for seeing” out upon the bay.
+He went up to the window, and leaning his arm upon the flap of the
+escritoire, looked down at her, looked steadily at her—and spoke:
+
+“Hagar.”
+
+She started, turned, impatiently exclaiming, “Can I not escape your eye
+and voice anywhere, _anywhere_?”
+
+“Why _no_, love, of course not!”
+
+She was turning away—“Nay, pause. Hagar, how long have we been married?”
+
+“I do not exactly know, and I do not want to calculate now; it seems to
+me much longer than it really is—a long, long time!”
+
+“Something less than six weeks? Is not this a promising beginning?”
+Hagar suppressed a groan. He drew her away to a lounge, and they sat
+down. “Hagar, do you remember the night of our first meeting? when I was
+a youth and you an infant?”
+
+“_Do I not?_”
+
+“Your first words to me—it was at Sophie’s wedding party, you
+recollect—your first words to me formed a _jealous question_, and I knew
+that you were strong and fierce and jealous, though so little even for
+your years; and your first question was a _jealous_ question.”
+
+“You have a good memory.”
+
+“I _have_! therefore do not store it with facts that will be likely to
+injure you in my estimation. Well, to go back to that evening—I loved
+the little, fierce child—it was piquant to see so much intense fire
+concentrated in so small a space. I felt that it would be interesting to
+subdue this fierceness into gentleness. I was called away from home; but
+I never forgot the interest she gave me. I returned, and the little girl
+had become a little woman—and was wilder, fiercer, more piquant than
+ever; she interested me, attracted me more than ever—and I wished to
+possess her—I do possess her. I wanted her for interest, amusement,
+occupation, use—not for _torture_! I wish her _esprit malin_ to stop
+just when and where it ceases to be _agreeable_—do you hear, love? For,
+Hagar, I have extremely keen nerves and senses; as most people of my
+complexion enjoy a moderate degree of any sort of pleasure thrillingly,
+but do not like to be shocked and stunned; things that would scarcely
+act upon a lower organization put me in pain. And now another picture,
+Hagar. Do you remember the monkey Augustus May brought you from sea,
+when you were a little girl? You kept it years until my return; you had
+educated it almost up to human intelligence; and showed it to me with so
+much pride and pleasure. I was so amused with its antics—not so much
+with what you had _taught_ it as with its _own primal_ nature, breaking
+through all. _Yes, look at me, Hagar!_ keep your eye _so_—for I want you
+to read all in my _soul_ that you find upon my _tongue_. You remember
+the day we stood upon the point of rocks between the river and bay, on
+the other side; you remember you had your monkey in your arms; you set
+it down, and I made it bound and bound for a chestnut, while we both
+laughed at its antics, until the thing, exasperated to anger, sprang
+upon my chest and set its teeth and claws into my flesh, and then! Ah!
+you grow pale, proud one! _what then, Hagar?_”
+
+She answered, and spoke low and slowly, as though the words were drawn
+from her involuntarily. “You tore it from my bosom by the heels, and
+dashed its brains out on the rocks.”
+
+“It was an involuntary impulse, Hagar, deplored, perhaps, the moment
+after; nevertheless, Hagar, you monkey!” and here he smiled a strange
+smile,—“be as spirited, fiery, and piquant as you please, but never set
+your teeth and nails into my flesh _again_—and Hagar!”
+
+“Well?”
+
+“I want a mark of confidence from you. Invite Miss Aguilar to stay with
+us—do you hear?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“‘Yes,’ what is that? Yes you hear, or yes you will do it?”
+
+“Yes, I hear, and I will do it.”
+
+“This day?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+He kissed her forehead, arose, and sauntered out of the room. And Hagar
+sprang upon her feet with a snap of her teeth, exclaiming, “Powers and
+principalities of darkness! is this I? is this I? What is this? am I
+bewitched, enslaved? I—_I_—_I_! pale, and tremble, and obey—_I_! Come,
+Hagar!” said she, to herself, “let us go to the glass and see if we have
+changed as much in person as we have in manner during the last ten
+minutes!” and she went to the glass and glared at herself. “Would I
+submit to this, if I did not love him, if I did not want him to love
+_me_? Raymond! oh! you who looked _so_ gentle, so fair—who could think
+that under those golden lashes, in those soft eyes, lurked such spring
+lancets! And Rosalia! Was he sincere? or was he self-deceived? or
+perchance am I mistaken?”
+
+The dinner bell rang, and hastily arranging her dress, she descended the
+stairs and entered the dining-room. Raymond came forward to meet her,
+and led her to her seat at the table, whispering as he went,
+
+“Your cheek is flushed, love, and your ringlets a little dishevelled. I
+am sorry to see that; take time in future, love, even though you should
+keep people waiting a few minutes; take time to compose yourself and
+arrange your toilet.”
+
+That afternoon Rosalia Aguilar had three distinct invitations to make
+her home under the room of three distinct friends. She gratefully
+declined two—that is Emily’s and Hagar’s, in favor of Captain Wilde and
+Sophie.
+
+The next Sabbath, the whole family from Heath Hall attended divine
+service at the parish Church of the Ascension—Rev. Mr. Buncombe in the
+pulpit. It was to be the last Sunday of their stay. Mrs. Withers’s pew,
+in which sat Hagar, Raymond, Rosalia, Sophie, and Captain Wilde; and
+Mrs. Buncombe’s pew, occupied by herself and Gusty, were the two front
+pews of the middle aisle, immediately under the pulpit. After the
+morning service was over, the benediction pronounced, and the
+congregation had retired, the occupants of these front pews filed out,
+and placed themselves before the altar in the following order: Captain
+Wilde, with Sophie on his left hand, and next to her Rosalia; on his
+right hand, Gusty, while Emily, Hagar, and Raymond were grouped near.
+The preacher opened his book, and in the holy stillness of the empty
+church, commenced the marriage rites that were to unite for life Sophie
+and Augustus; he went on, finished them, the names of bride, bridegroom,
+and attendants and witnesses were affixed to the register; kisses were
+given and received; heartfelt, low-toned congratulations breathed, and
+the little party slowly left the church, got into their saddles, and
+rode over to Heath Hall, where a small party were assembled to dinner.
+
+Dear girls, have I given you love, courtship, and marriage enough in
+this and the last? Whatever you may think, there is “more truth than
+poetry” in the story I am telling you, and more sadness than either.
+
+Gusty rode by the side of Rosalia Aguilar—Rosalia was in one of her
+softest moods, and tears and smiles and blushes chased each other over
+her cheeks. She was thinking of “dearest Sophie,” and sympathizing with
+her happiness. Gusty was sighing like the wind in the main-sail. His
+mother’s invitation, backed by his own eloquence, had been inefficient
+in persuading Rosalia to remain in the neighborhood.
+
+“No, dearest Gusty,” she had said, “I should love so much to have you
+all with me; it grieves me to part with any of you, but you know, Gusty,
+that I must mind what Sophie says, and Sophie says that I must go with
+_her_; besides, as I cannot stay with all, I prefer to stay with Sophie
+and with Captain Wilde, who loves me also.”
+
+“See here, Rosalia, I—I—I—”
+
+“Don’t cry, Gusty, don’t cry—I will write to you every week, and can’t
+you come and see me?”
+
+“_Cry!_ am _I_ crying?—it’s—it’s the wind blowing in my eyes that makes
+them water—pshaw! fiddle-de-dee! _me_ cry, indeed!—but,
+Rosalia—stop—don’t ride so fast; let the folks get along before.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“Oh! because—because—because it will tire the _horse_, you know, poor
+fellow.”
+
+“Oh, will it?” said Rosalia, reining up, and falling into a walk.
+
+“Yes, to be sure it will, walk him slow,—there!” and then he rode up
+close to the side of Rosalia, and said, “Rose, stop, little darling,”
+and she stopped, and turned her gentle face towards him. “Rose, look at
+me, darling,” and she looked straight in his face, with her large
+innocent eyes. “How do you like me, altogether, Rose?”
+
+“Oh! so much, so dearly, you _know_ I do, Gusty!”
+
+“Ah, my seraph!—but, Rose, could you _love_ me?”
+
+“Could I, Gusty? Why, I _do_ love you dearly.”
+
+Then he sank his voice to a low whisper, and said,
+
+“But, loving darling! you love _everybody_!—Raymond and Augustus
+included.”
+
+“But I love you better than them, Gusty—oh, ever so much better. You
+know I have known you all my life, and never knew them until last week;
+so good as they are, dear Gusty, and much as I love them, I love _you_
+the most!”
+
+“Love! love! love! Ah, my little angel, I am afraid you do not love me
+as I would have you. Do you love me well enough to _marry_ me—now—soon?
+My pay is enough to support us, and mother has consented. Sophie has a
+good opinion of me, and—and—well! what do you say, my Rosalia?”
+
+She was smiling and blushing.
+
+“Well, Rosalia?”
+
+“Why, it would be too curious! too queer! so funny. Sophie would laugh
+at us, and all the girls would make fun of us. You know I am nothing but
+a child yet—but oh! I know you are only joking.”
+
+“As the Lord in heaven hears me speak, I never was more in earnest in my
+life.”
+
+“Oh! no, Gusty! not in earnest! I do hope not in earnest.”
+
+“As the Lord lives I am, Rosalia—come, Rosalia! I see you will not drive
+me to despair—you will give me your hand, and instead of going North,
+you will just cosily settle down here, with mother. Come, put your hand
+in mine, and I will take that for yes!”
+
+“Oh, I am sorry to vex you, Gusty; indeed I am, dear Gusty, but I can’t
+get married, it is too funny!”
+
+“Do you not love me, then?”
+
+“Yes, indeed I do, Gusty.”
+
+“You _love_ me, dearest Rose?”
+
+“Yes, indeed I do, Gusty, the angels know I do!”
+
+“Then why not marry me, my sweet love?”
+
+“So! Gusty, I had just as soon marry you as any one else, only I do not
+like to marry one—”
+
+“Good heavens!—oh, gracious Providence, _hear her_!—she had as lief have
+me as _anybody else_!” roared Gusty, striking spurs to his horse and
+making him bound in the air.
+
+The girl grew pale, and hastily exclaimed,
+
+“Well, well! maybe if I was obliged to marry, I would _rather_ have you
+than anybody. Oh! don’t scare me so, Gusty! you make me weak all over,
+and—and—I feel like falling from my saddle!”
+
+And he saw, indeed, that his violence had nearly overwhelmed the
+delicate girl, who was trembling very much. He rode to her saddlebow,
+and said gently,
+
+“Rosalia, I beg your forgiveness; I have startled you by my rudeness;
+the fact is, Rosalia, I have been accustomed to Hagar, who, with
+reverence be it said, is as rough as an unripe persimmon, as sour as a
+lime, and as bitter as an aloe, and she has spoiled me for such gentle
+society as yours; now compose yourself, Rosalia, and hear me, and
+believe me when I say that if you refuse my hand—if you leave me here
+and go to the North—I—well! perhaps I shall not go mad, or blow my
+brains out, or break my heart, and die, but I shall be utterly wretched,
+and make every one miserable around me, I _know_ I shall! I begin to
+feel it now. So, Rosalia, I have to propose to you to break this matter
+to Sophie, or let me do it, and to beg you, if she shall see no improper
+haste in the project of our marriage, that you will accept me; Rosalia,
+you make me talk _so_ much, darling!—now, Rosalia, what do you say?”
+
+The girl paused, not in reflection, but in hesitation.
+
+“Dearest Rose, you give me so much pain. Rose! Rose!”
+
+“Do I? I did not mean to.”
+
+“Will you give a reply, Rose?”
+
+“Wait, Gusty, till I talk to Sophie; but, oh! no, I do not like to,
+either—it is too queer. You, Gusty, you may talk to her.”
+
+“Do you, do you say that, Rose! Tell me! tell me over again, Rose! I may
+ask your hand of Sophie and Wilde?”
+
+“Yes,” whispered Rose, the blood rising to the edges of her hair.
+
+“Oh, glory, hallelujah! God bless you, Rose! God Almighty bless you,
+Rose. Hey! stop, Lightning!” said he, suddenly jerking the bit, though
+in fact it was not the horse but Master Gusty that was bounding. “There,
+I am frightening you again, Rose! Be easy, Lightning!”
+
+“Won’t you ride on? Sophie will be waiting for us.”
+
+“Yes! yes! my angel Rose,” and they cantered on through the forest-path.
+It was the same forest-path leading from the village to the church so
+often mentioned in this story. They overtook Sophie Wilde and their
+party. Sophie was buried in thought; she was in fact just passing the
+spot where she had, eight years before, seen the apparition of the
+wanderer, and now passing the road for the last time, and under her
+peculiar circumstances, the fact was forcibly recalled to her mind.
+Rosalia paced up lovingly to her side, and kept there during her ride
+home.
+
+Soon after dinner Gusty May found an opportunity of taking Sophie aside
+and making known his wishes. His embarrassment under _all_ the
+circumstances of which _we_ are cognisant, you know, was very natural
+and amusing. Sophie Wilde (I love to call her Sophie Wilde) was not
+perhaps the person of all others to consult in such a case; it did,
+however, vaguely dawn upon her mind that a little delay might not be
+unadvisable in the proposed marriage of a youth of nineteen with a girl
+of fifteen and a half; so she said dreamily that she would “Talk with
+Captain Wilde.”
+
+Up shot Gusty, exclaiming,
+
+“‘_Talk with Captain Wilde!_’ ‘talk with Captain Wilde;’ yes! that’s it!
+that’s the tune! ‘talk with Captain Wilde.’ What’s Captain Wilde to do
+with it? I asked _you_, because she insisted you should be consulted,
+and you are her little mamma. Seems to me that you have quite
+unnecessarily elevated him to the throne. ‘Captain Wilde!’ he’s a great
+fellow, isn’t he? Captain Fiddlestick’s end! I should just like to hear
+_him_ object—I just _should_. Shouldn’t be surprised though if he
+didn’t. ‘Talk to Captain Wilde!’ oh! _de_-cidedly. _She_ said ‘Talk to
+Sophie,’ you say, ‘Talk to Captain Wilde,’ _he’ll_ ‘talk’ to Parson
+Buncombe; and while you are all ‘talk’-ing, my prospect of getting a
+pair of white kid gloves grows
+
+               “‘Small by degrees and beautifully less!’”
+
+exclaimed Gusty, ranting up and down the piazza, and flinging his
+coat-tails about. “I was born under the lost pleiad! I _know_ I was! to
+be always crossed in love! to be hammered into a poet or something by
+hard blows! I be hanged if I will. I’m to be put in the still as roses
+are, and the essence of soul, the double extract of soul distilled from
+me by fire, while flesh and muscle, life and health shrivel up like rose
+leaves in the heat! No, I be hanged if I will. Cast me into the furnace
+and see if I don’t turn out to be gunpowder, and blow somebody up! or
+spirit-gas, and set some one on fire! _that’s_ all!” and blowing, he sat
+down.
+
+“Look here, my dear Gusty,” said our bride, “don’t talk nonsense. You
+have a long leave of absence; come! go with us North. You indeed have
+the best excuse; you may be said to be in duty bound to go, as our
+groomsman, and in that capacity you must constantly attend Rosalia, and
+who knows, you may be appointed to our ship; the set of officers is not
+yet complete.”
+
+“So I may! oh, God bless you, Sophie, it took just _you_ to think of
+that! though you may not be as sensible as mother, or as brilliant as
+Hagar—yet you are better. I wish the comparative had been _good_er than
+_either_ of them! anything that is to make anybody happy, dear Sophie! I
+shall not leave it to ‘who knows’ and ‘perhaps,’ I shall beg uncle to
+get me appointed to his ship, if he can—where is he? I am going to him!
+in the meantime consider me enlisted for this Northern bridal cruise,”
+and off he went to seek Captain Wilde.
+
+I leave it to any gentleman or lady present whether it was in Captain
+Wilde’s power just that day to look rationally, sensibly, coldly, upon a
+young lover’s passion.
+
+“Why, Gusty, my boy,” he said, “you know very well that I have very
+little influence; however, I will exert that in procuring your
+appointment to my ship, and Gusty, in the meantime come on with us and
+remain until you receive orders somewhere. Rosalia is a treasure, and if
+I had the power of bestowing her, I do not know to whom I could give her
+with so much pleasure as yourself. But you must wait, Gusty, for a year
+or two—you are both somewhat too young to think of this marriage yet a
+while.”
+
+“Why, uncle, this ‘wait’-ing might be endurable if the time were passed
+with you all, and in daily company of Rosalia, to be sure.”
+
+This arrangement was finally concluded. And Emily, who loved Rosalia,
+and preferred her above all others as a future daughter-in-law, readily
+consented to forego the society of her son for the present, merely
+saying—
+
+“_When_ you marry, if you ever marry Rosalia, you must bring her home
+here and leave her with me while you are at sea, Gusty, and that is the
+only condition upon which I can consent to part with you, Gusty, for
+this term.”
+
+Of course Gusty consented and promised.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+“And so, my little dove-eyed darling is scarcely out of school, before
+she is betrothed—do you know the meaning of your vows, my little love?”
+asked Sophie, very seriously, the same afternoon as Rosalia nestled on a
+stool at her feet. And Rose dropped her blushing face in the lap of
+Sophie, and was silent. “Do you?—tell me, Rose?”
+
+“Dear Sophie, I had rather not get married—only, you know, poor Gusty,
+it would be a pity to hurt his feelings!”
+
+“You child!”
+
+“But, Sophie, I am not—not betrothed, as you suppose—no indeed, I gave
+no positive answer until I could hear what you would have to say.”
+
+“You did not!” said Sophie, suddenly. “Oh, then, my dear Rose, I beg—I
+entreat that you will bind yourself by no rash vows now—wait—you are
+heart-whole yet—wait—Gusty is going on with us—you will see more of
+him—he of you—and you will both find out whether you are fitted for each
+other. Will you promise me not to engage your hand ever without my
+consent, Rose?”
+
+“Dear Sophie, to be sure I will—I never once thought of doing
+otherwise.”
+
+This was perfectly easy for Rose, for her own inclinations were
+uninterested in the matter.
+
+Breaking up an old home, the home of many years—I had nearly said
+centuries, is not like a modern city May day flitting. A home like old
+Heath Hall, with its accumulations, its secretions of many years and
+many hearts, with its innumerable old closets, cupboards, wardrobes,
+escritoires, and “old oak chests,” with their inexhaustible treasures,
+relics, and curiosities—from the doublet and hose that the founder of
+the American branch of the family wore—with his point and ruffles
+and bonnet and plume—to the cocked hat and rusty sword of
+great-great-grandfather, and the hooped petticoat and high heeled shoes
+of his wife—from the first baby cap that the first American Churchill
+baby wore, to the lock of grey hair that was cut from his coffined head
+just before the lid was screwed down—from the veil that fell around the
+maiden at her bridal to the cap the grandmother died in—from the bullet
+extracted from the fiery-hearted son who had perished in battle, to the
+clerical black silk gown his gentle bosomed brother had worn in his
+ministry when he married, christened or blessed. Truly the organ of
+veneration must be largely developed in these old Maryland and Virginian
+families—all things linked with family associations are relics it would
+be little short of sacrilege to destroy. The cast off bridal wreath and
+veil that a northern or a city belle would generously and properly
+bestow upon some young sister or cousin, is gently lifted from her
+daughter’s brow by a Maryland mother—reverentially lifted as you have
+seen a minister raise the cloth from a communion table, and laid away a
+sacred treasure, a relic to be handled with awe and love by the children
+in future ages. The wardrobe of the dead that many northern and city
+families send to the proper destination, the backs of the ragged living,
+in Maryland and Virginia is carefully collected and packed away in
+chests and locked, and hermetically sealed as it were to moulder away to
+dust in long years. These old houses—how the very smell of their musty
+mysterious old closets and closely shaded rooms, for dreaming carries us
+back to the days when people did not understand that ventilation was
+necessary to health, to the days when we lay across grandmother’s soft
+lap, watching through our winking eyes grandmother’s dear good face,
+and, vibrating between angel dream land and her capped and spectacled
+face, dimly wondered what we were, and slipped from this vague feeling
+into sleep. These old houses have no antiquities carrying us back to the
+very ancient feudal times, it is true; but they have that which comes
+more warmly, _so_ warmly! home to the heart, all the signs of _long
+inhabitedness_. The old windows may creak in the wintry blast, and the
+wind whistle up from crevices at the very foot of the old mantel-pieces
+beside the blazing hickory fire, yet the heart is all the warmer for its
+old age, because grandfather and grandmother lived there and _their_
+grandparents before them. These old houses scattered at wide intervals
+up and down the shores of the Chesapeake Bay and its tributaries, and
+under the Easterly shadow of the Blue Ridge Mountains, and in and out
+among the hills and through the forests between them—these old houses,
+spotting the verdure of new settlements like iron-mould—these old
+houses, many of them still inhabited by the old families, while both
+decay together, still blossoming out occasionally with young life, young
+children, remind me strongly of old mouldering tombs from which fresh
+blooming flowers are springing.
+
+“Let’s leave all things just _so_, Hagar, love,” said Sophie, as the two
+were making a tour of the old Hall, opening and examining old closets
+and chests with a view of determining what should be taken, what left,
+what burnt and what given away. “We will lock up all the rest without
+examination. I have not nerves for it, Hagar. It is like dissecting a
+heart, to explore the treasures and memorials and relics of the long ago
+dead. Let us leave them so.”
+
+“Let’s make a general bonfire of them,” said Hagar, “I never like these
+relics, they come across me unpleasantly, very—why should people
+accumulate them—storing up pangs against some day of pangs. ‘Let the
+dead past bury its dead;’ _en avant_ is my motto.
+
+Sophie looked at her with her brown eyes dilating in reverie.
+
+“Perhaps you are right after all—these relics awaken mournful, not to
+say maudlin feelings that might sleep but for their sight; nevertheless,
+_I_ could not destroy these things, neither can I consent to their
+destruction.”
+
+It was finally agreed in consultation that all things should remain just
+as they were, that the Hall should be closed, and left in charge of old
+Cumbo and Tarquinius.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+“Where are you going, Hagar?” said Raymond, as she sauntered from the
+breakfast-room off into the yard.
+
+“To see Starlight. I have not seen him since our marriage, and I was
+accustomed to go to his stall every morning when Tarquinius carried his
+oats.”
+
+“Why did you not ask me to attend you?” inquired Raymond, as he drew her
+hand under his arm.
+
+“Because, Mr. Raymond,” flashed Hagar’s eyes and teeth, “I love to shake
+you _off_ some time! when you set like a trammel—besides you do not like
+Starlight.”
+
+Raymond replied by drawing her arm closer and holding her hand tighter,
+while her pointers, Remus and Romulus, seeing her, sprang to her,
+bounded around her, and she stopped to caress them with her free hand.
+Raymond an instant looked annoyed, then raising the loaded end of his
+riding-whip, struck them away. Hagar snatched her hand from his arm, and
+all the fire of her race and nation was burning in the indignant gaze
+she flashed upon his brow that still remained unfurrowed by a frown in
+its superb calmness.
+
+“Well, Hagar, I am not scathed, blasted by that lightning stroke, am I?
+Nonsense, Hagar, do you suppose I am going to permit a hand I love to
+kiss to be licked over by those two curs?—pooh! go wash it.”
+
+“They are _not_ curs, they are fine splendid pointers! Look at their
+shining black coats and eyes like coals! and their _love_ has more
+generous disinterestedness than—” And here she paused, her expiring
+flash of spirit died out beneath the steady inquiring gaze of the soft,
+deep blue eyes, striking up through which came a will, a purpose, the
+strength of which was dimly guessed from the depths from which it seemed
+to come.
+
+“Than _what_, Hagar?”
+
+“Nothing!” said Hagar, as her high heart-throbbing subsided. He drew her
+arm again within his own, and they proceeded to the stables. At the
+sight of his mistress, Starlight neighed loud for joy, and breaking
+away, cantered up to meet her, pawed the ground, stretched out his head,
+and couched it in the open palms she held to receive it. Hagar smiled in
+his eyes, full of the earnestness she could not speak, and stroking his
+jet black neck, let him lay his chin upon her shoulders alternately, and
+rub his mouth upon her neck and cheek, snorting with joy between times.
+
+“See, Raymond! see,” she said, with her momentary anger all conjured
+away. “See how the very _want_ of the gift of speech makes his eyes and
+motions so eloquent! See how glad he is to see me! don’t I understand
+you, Starlight? and don’t you know every word I am saying?” said she,
+caressing him.
+
+But now her eyes fell upon Raymond, who was standing with folded arms,
+curling lip, and scornful eyes, regarding her.
+
+“Why do you look at me in that way, Raymond?”
+
+“You have no refinement, no delicacy. Your dress pawed over and soiled
+by your canine pets—your ringlets snuffed at, and your neck rubbed by
+the nose of your pony. I am glad that in a few days I shall be able to
+remove you from all these things.”
+
+“But I wish to take Starlight and Remus and Romulus with me,” said
+Hagar, as she turned away from the stable, and they sauntered on.
+
+“You cannot do so.”
+
+“Why?” she asked, anxiously.
+
+“I do not like dogs and horses myself, and I very much _dis_like your
+attachment to them, and I utterly disapprove of your use of them; when
+you cannot walk there are carriages to be had!”
+
+“You never told me that you disapproved of my habits before!”
+
+“I had no right to _express_ it before, and yet you learned it from my
+silence, and now I say it explicitly, and expect that my tastes be
+consulted in the matter.”
+
+“And you have no right to express it _now_! sir,” exclaimed the mad
+girl, with the fire flaming in her eyes. “No right to express it _now_!
+_what_ right have you _now_, more than you ever had over me? None that I
+acknowledge! None that I will bear to have you assume! None, Raymond!
+_none!_ All love! all compliance that I yield you now I would have
+yielded you before! and you know it! you know it! of my own free will!
+of my own glorious free will!—not from constraint! God in Heaven! you
+exasperate—you madden me—by attempts at constraint! Raymond! what do you
+mean by this? I do not like it. No! I will turn away, I will not look at
+your cold, spirit-killing eyes. I will not let your cold, damping,
+implacable will extinguish my life and soul as the rain puts out the
+fire. _I_ have a will! and tastes, and habits, and propensities! and
+loves and hates! yes, and conscience! that all go to make up the sum
+total of a separate individuality! a distinct life! for which _I alone_
+am accountable, and _only_ to God! How weak and worthless would my
+obedience to God be if it were fettered through a submission to _any_
+lower will. No, I will _not_ bear to have you assume any right over my
+freedom of action, and I shall take my favorites with me to the North.”
+
+A sarcastic smile fluttered around the beautiful lips and gleamed under
+the golden eye-lashes of Raymond Withers as he slightly raised his hat
+from his head with a mock bow, and sauntered away from her side, quoting
+for her benefit the very last clause of Genesis iii. and 16. It only
+needed his sarcasm to exasperate the girl to phrensy. She snapped and
+ground her teeth together, and stamped with both little feet, springing
+to the ground as though they would take root there—while anger rocked
+and flamed to and fro in her bosom like a sea of fire lashing its
+shores. Suddenly—veiling her flashing eyes and setting her gleaming
+teeth with a look of resolution, she went to the stables and calling
+Tarquinius, bade him saddle Starlight.
+
+“We will have another day together, my old friends,” said she, as the
+horse neighed joyously, and the dogs bounded around her each in
+intelligent anticipation; and in ten minutes from this Hagar was flying
+over the heath towards the forest attended by her favorites.
+
+The sun was setting in golden glory as Hagar rode into the yard at Heath
+Hall, sprang from her horse, and throwing the reins to Tarquinius walked
+leisurely towards the house, smiled and bowed salutation to the company
+assembled to enjoy the evening air in the piazza, and passed on into the
+Hall—Sophie followed her, and with the tears welling up to her eyes
+exclaimed,
+
+“Oh! Hagar, what have you done?”
+
+Hagar threw up her little glittering head of ringlets and replied with
+laughing defiance,
+
+“I have been taking one of my old days among the hills! I wished to feel
+my freedom a little, that is all! I have been galled by the too close
+pressure of my chains lately, and have broken them through for once,
+that’s all.”
+
+“How will you meet Raymond after this escapade?” said she, sadly.
+
+“Nonsense, Sophie, how will he meet _me_?” and she ran up stairs.
+
+“Be quick, dear, trying Hagar, tea is nearly ready,” said Sophie, gazing
+earnestly after her—then with a second thought, inspired by this second
+and closer glance, Sophie went up stairs to her room, found her standing
+leaning her elbow on her dressing-table, while her forehead rested upon
+the palm of her hand, and her long glittering ringlets fell half way to
+her girdle—her little figure was visibly throbbing with emotion. Sophie
+went and took the hand that was hanging down; it was burning, hot, and
+dry.
+
+“Hagar!”
+
+“Well?”
+
+“You are wretched, poor child, and indeed I do not wonder. Hagar, will
+you take my advice?”
+
+“What is it?”
+
+“_Tell_ your husband when you meet him that you are so—_you_ have
+sinned, Hagar, and _you_ must atone for your sin; lay your small hand
+gently on his arm, and look into his face, catch his eyes, and ask him
+to forgive you.”
+
+“WHAT!” snapped the proud girl, bounding like a little bombshell; “hold
+out my wrists humbly for the gyves, and ask my master please to fasten
+them on again! No! may I die if I do!”
+
+“Oh! don’t look at it in that light, Hagar; you have wronged, outraged,
+insulted Raymond.”
+
+“Did he tell you so?” sneered Hagar.
+
+“Can I not see it, Hagar? No, he did not tell me so—do you not know
+enough of Raymond’s proud and fastidious nature to see that he _could_
+not tell me so, Hagar? No, poor misguided child, your day’s absence was
+enough. Come, Hagar, seek a reconciliation with him—you _have_ been
+wrong—say so to him at once. You will have not a moment’s peace until
+you are reconciled to your husband—seek that reconciliation at any price
+of your own sinful pride.”
+
+“I will not! cannot!”
+
+“But, Hagar, you _do_ regret this, you suffer torture.”
+
+“I can _bear_ torture! but not humiliation! degradation!”
+
+“Alas! look at you, the very flame of mental fever flickering through
+your cheeks and eyes—the freshness of your lips scorched by the dry heat
+of your breath. What a day you have had to-day, Hagar! how much your
+defiance has cost you! Come, come, bathe your eyes; after tea I will, if
+I can, talk with you again. You will be wise.”
+
+The supper bell rang, and Sophie, with a hasty charge to Hagar to make
+her toilet quickly, arose and left the room. And Hagar sprang to her
+feet with a determination to look very regal, happy, and defiant. She
+bathed her burning eyes and brow, but without cooling their fever. She
+smoothed her long glittering ringlets, and collected them under a
+jewelled comb. She changed her black riding-dress for a crimson satin,
+with full and falling sleeves, fastened a ruby bracelet on her slender
+but rounded arm, and descended the stairs, trying to draw her heart up
+blithe and high; she entered the drawing-room with head erect, expanded
+brow, and elastic step, and was passing on proudly alone, behind the
+company, who were going to the supper room, when quickly and softly at
+her side was Raymond, his graceful head, with its wavy golden hair,
+bending forward, smiling up into her face; his soft eyes radiant under
+their golden lashes, and his delicate hand seeking hers, to draw it
+through his arm, just as if nothing had happened. Her own Raymond!—her
+pride was disarmed in a moment. Sunbright was the smile of surprise,
+joy, love, and gratitude she flashed up in his gentle face, and suddenly
+it softened into tenderness; how could she have defied a gentle soul
+like his?—in truth, she would have given everything she possessed on
+earth, except Remus, Romulus, and Starlight, to have blotted out for
+ever the offence of the day. She had not expected this; she had prepared
+herself to defy the storm, not the sunshine, and her defences were all
+melted off. She was subdued, and quietly and generously resolved in her
+own mind not to shock and wound his fastidious delicacy again, and so
+they sat down to supper. The neighborhood gossip of a tea-table occupied
+the company. But Hagar continued to watch Raymond with a new feeling,
+new interest; it seemed his character was now constantly unfolding
+itself to her; new leaf after leaf was turned; she watched him covertly
+but closely. His manner was just precisely as usual; and, though she
+often caught his full eyes, not the slightest consciousness of
+remembering that anything unpleasant had occurred was to be detected in
+their glance. His countenance and manner wore their usual air of
+graceful self-possession and elegant repose, and she would have thought
+that, indeed, the occurrence of the day had dropped from his memory, but
+that once, quickly, under his breath, he had said, “Your restlessness of
+manner, your anxiety of expression, will draw attention—be at ease.”
+
+“Be at ease”—these words, though spoken in the softest key, and with the
+sweetest smile, somehow did not set her at ease; and “You will draw
+attention,” raised an anxiety that she had not felt before. Was it the
+dislike of drawing attention?—but she would wait. Oh, how she longed for
+the stupid evening to be over; it is so hard to bear calmly, cheerfully,
+a toothache or a heart-ache in company. It was long before they left the
+tea-table, and then it was long before they got ready to go home, and
+after they were all in their saddles and in their carriages on the road,
+it was long before Sophie’s smiling good night broke up the family
+circle for the evening. Sophie left the room with a congratulatory smile
+to Hagar, happy in the thought that their quarrel was made up. Raymond
+followed her, smiling, to the door, opened it, bowed her out, closed it,
+and returned; then with a sudden impulse went back, re-opened it, and
+passed out.
+
+Hagar awaited his return half an hour, and then sought her chamber. She
+expected him joyously, yet with a little undefinable anxiety. At last
+she heard his steps ascending the stairs, he opened the door, and came
+in; she turned quickly, and going to meet him, holding out both hands,
+exclaimed,
+
+“Dearest Raymond, I am so glad that we are alone, together at last, my
+heart has been ready to burst all the—” She stopped short, and gazed in
+surprise at him. How changed his aspect! was it the same Raymond that an
+hour ago was smiling, bowing, glancing, gliding through the lighted
+drawing-rooms? He stood with folded arms and curling lip; his cold eye
+crawling over her from head to foot, yet so fascinating in his beautiful
+scorn, that she could have uttered a death-cry of anguish, as love and
+pride tugged at her heart-strings. He passed her and threw himself upon
+a lounge. She had been prepared for this scorn and anger three hours
+before, but she was not now—not after having been subdued by soft
+smiles, sweet words, and gentle tones, that she had received in all
+trust—no, not now—the touch of the soft fingers that had sought and
+pressed her hand in drawing it through his arm; the touch of those soft
+fingers was yet quivering on _her_ fingers; the rays of those gentle
+eyes were yet beaming in _her_ eyes; the tones of that low, love-pitched
+voice yet breathing in her ear—no, she could not believe in this
+harshness, at _least_ she could not bear it. He was now sitting on the
+lounge, making entries in a note-book, with his usual air of elegant
+ease. She looked at him an instant, and then going up to him she stood
+before him; he continued his writing, without looking up; the flame
+flickered in and out upon her dark cheek; soon she dropped both hands
+upon his shoulders, and dropped her proud head until the long glittering
+ringlets fell each side of his cheeks, and sitting down beside him and
+dropping her face upon his bosom, she whispered softly,
+
+“Raymond, make friends with me! I will do anything in the world you wish
+me to do—come! I will leave undone all you wish me so to leave, if you
+will make friends with me again;” and a tearless heart-sob breaking from
+her lips showed how great had been the pang of her vanquished pride.
+
+He lifted her head from its resting-place, smoothed back the ringlets of
+her hair, and holding her face between the palms of his hands, gazed
+smilingly into her eyes, with a look, half of love, half triumph, and
+said,
+
+“You will? but then your ‘separate soul—will—individuality’—what are you
+to do with it all? Answer me—I want a literal reply, in words—”
+
+“I don’t know!—how do _I_ know?—don’t seek to humble me, dear Raymond—I
+am tortured!—tortured!—tortured!”
+
+“Tortured?”
+
+“Yes!—yes!” exclaimed she, wildly,—“_tortured!_”
+
+“Who tortures you, my piquant little love, my little vial of
+sal-volatile?” said he, condescendingly, caressing her.
+
+“You do, Raymond!—and myself!—myself tortures me!”
+
+“Why, so it seems.”
+
+“Yes, Raymond, understand me, and help me to understand myself. I only
+lately began to know myself. I am a strange blending of pride and
+aspiration!—and of love, and through love, fear!—the eagle and the
+dove!—alas, bear with me!—hold my throbbing temples between your cool
+hands, Raymond—_your_ hands are _always_ cool—so!—now calmly, I do not
+know that there is anything to make me wild, or angry, just now—yet
+these clashing and conflicting elements do so war in my nature—listen,
+Raymond! when you angered me this morning, and left me, the aroused
+passion of my soul heaved and set like the sea in a storm, leaping from
+its bed and lashing the shores! I could not have believed it possible
+that you _could_ have angered me so—or being angered so, that I could
+have got over it so; and now that is gone, and—never wound my poor dove
+because my eagle has stuck her beak and claws into you—”
+
+“No, love, the dove shall never be wounded, but _the claws and wings of
+the eagle shall be clipped_,” said he, looking steadily in her anguished
+eyes. “Don’t reply to me yet, Hagar, you are about to say something that
+will make more trouble between us.”
+
+Then with a dry sob and gasp, Hagar’s heart shrank into silence, and he
+smiled to see it, and all this while he was lightly caressing
+her—running his fair fingers through her glossy hair, and kissing her
+lips from time to time. At last she said—
+
+“I have been thinking what to do with my favorites, Starlight and the
+pointers.”
+
+“And has your unassisted wisdom arrived at any conclusion, my love?”
+
+“Yes, I will leave them here, in the care of Tarquinius, for a while;
+then, perhaps, after a while, when we get settled, you will not object
+to have them.”
+
+“I am sorry, love, that our thoughts did not happen to run in the same
+channel, very sorry. I made a sale of the horse and dogs to Gardiner
+Green, this morning, while you were taking your last ride with them, and
+to-night, after you came home, I sent them over to his farm by
+Tarquinius.”
+
+“NO!” exclaimed Hagar, starting violently.
+
+He held her tightly, gently compressing his arm about her waist, and
+replied, softly,
+
+“Yes, love—nay, do not start and struggle, I cannot spare you, yet—yes,
+love, they are sold.”
+
+“_My_ horse!—_mine?_—_my own!_—my dear Starlight!—and my dogs—and
+without my leave!”
+
+“Come, come!—come, come! be still, Hagar, no phrensy,” said he,
+smilingly, tauntingly caressing her, while a gentle, cruel strength
+struck out from the pressure of the soft arms that held her in a fast
+embrace; “if your eagle flaps its wings and beats its cage so violently,
+I am afraid clipping its pinions and claws will not be enough—I am
+afraid I shall have to crush it altogether,” said he, looking down into
+her eyes.
+
+She ceased to struggle, and dropped her hands clasped upon her
+lap—dropped her head upon her chest, while the color all faded from her
+cheeks, and the light from her eyes.
+
+“Hagar!”
+
+“Well!”
+
+“What is the matter, love?”
+
+“_What you please_ shall be the matter!” exclaimed she, laughing
+bitterly, while light and color suddenly flashed back into her sparkling
+face.
+
+“Come, love, you are a spirited little thing, but you will be docile by
+and by, and then—”
+
+“I wish you joy of your automaton!”
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXIV.
+                          THE FORSAKEN HOUSE.
+
+              “Gloom is upon thy lonely hearth,
+              Oh, silent house! once filled with mirth,
+              Sorrow is in the breezy sound
+              Of thy tall poplars whispering round.”
+                                                  HEMANS.
+
+
+The family met at breakfast the morning succeeding the events of the
+last chapter. The family—that is, with the exception of Rosalia, who had
+been spending a week at Grove Cottage, consoling Emily for the
+disappointment of losing her company for the winter, by remaining with
+her as long as possible, and indeed up to the day of the proposed
+departure. Hagar entered the breakfast-room, escorted, as usual, with
+the gentle and assiduous attention always given her, in public, by her
+husband. He led her to her place, and seated her with a graceful bow and
+sweet smile, and then assumed his own chair—smiling the morning
+salutation to Captain Wilde, who just entered the room. But Sophie
+looked at Hagar,—looked at her in astonishment. The spirited, springy
+little figure was almost languid, though she sat erect; the healthy
+crimson glow of her dark complexion had concentrated in a circumscribed
+purple spot on her cheek, leaving her contracted brow and quivering lip
+pallid; her strained glance expressed a mingled anguish and defiance.
+And then Sophie’s glance turned off from Hagar to Raymond; but his fine
+brow was perfectly smooth, his eyes smiling and his lips composed as he
+received the cup of coffee from the waiter held by Tarquinius. Sophie
+was so disturbed, upon the whole, that she could not eat her breakfast.
+This was the last day of their stay at Heath Hall. The packet that was
+to convey them to Baltimore was moored under the shadow of the
+promontory. Immediately after breakfast, both gentlemen left the house
+to superintend the removal of their baggage. Hagar arose from the table
+and went into the large old drawing-room, Sophie’s whilom school-room.
+Sophie, leaving her table in charge of the servants, followed her. She
+was walking uneasily about the floor, and seeing Sophie enter, she
+paused before the window. Sophie stole gently to her side, and passing
+her soft arms over the girl’s shoulder, stooped forward and looked
+seriously and lovingly into her anguished face, as she murmured in her
+low, sweet voice,
+
+“I must not ask you _now_, Hagar, my former question of ‘What is the
+matter between you and Raymond?’ but let me comfort you in some way. Oh,
+it is dreadful, indeed, my love, that you, a wife of scarcely two
+months—but I will say nothing of that—only I see,” said she, dropping
+her voice very low, “it is your _pride_, Hagar—don’t start, love, or
+repulse me, for you know we shall be separated very soon—it is your
+_pride_, love, that rebels against a rule every way gentle, just, and
+reasonable. Subdue it, Hagar. Your husband has been educated among the
+refinements of cultivated city society. He, himself, perhaps, among the
+most fastidious of that class. His taste is offended, his delicacy
+shocked by your wildness.”
+
+“He knew all this before. Why did he mar—”
+
+“Hush! hush! Hagar! Never think such thoughts—ask such questions. He
+loves you, Hagar—has loved you long with a constancy I have never seen
+equalled but in one instance. He loved you—let me speak plainly, Hagar,
+for your sake and his—he loved you when you were a very _un_lovely
+child—at least to every one but me.—Well, he loved you, and sought and
+gained your love. You gave yourself away to him, and now he very
+naturally expects you to conform your manners to his tastes. Hagar, if
+liberty were dearer to you than love, you should never have given
+yourself to a husband. But that is not so—you know it—it is only your
+struggle, now—and, Hagar, this struggle, this resistance of your pride,
+_must cease_. Listen! Oh, Hagar!” said she, with unaccustomed energy,
+“listen to me—to _me_. I love you, and have no possible interest except
+your own welfare, in what I say to you. Your pride must be subdued—it
+must!—_must!_ If you do not subdue it _yourself_, _he_ will, with cruel
+pain to you. Raymond’s demands are all reasonable; such requirements are
+usual—in your case any man would make them—but in one thing Raymond
+differs from most men that I know—in the possession of an indomitable
+WILL. In my long acquaintance with him, when my faculties were mature,
+and yours in the green bud, I have had an opportunity of seeing and
+knowing this. I am afraid _you_ have mistaken him—with all his fair
+complexion and golden hair; in that beautiful form lives calmly an
+immensity of force, an eternity of purpose, almost omnipotent in its
+repose, and that it would be vain to look for in more impetuous,
+seemingly stronger natures; a power that is calmly, silently surrounding
+you. You feel it—do not struggle against it—you cannot overcome it,
+cannot escape from it, and it will never be withdrawn—it will close
+around you.—Yield gracefully to it! To your submission it will be a
+loving embrace—to your proud resistance it will be a galling chain;
+cease the struggle, Hagar, and be still.”
+
+“Never! never! never!” exclaimed the proud girl, while her brow flushed
+to crimson as by the smite of shame.
+
+“But you have a traitor in your bosom that continually betrays you; or
+rather, I should say, your husband holds your heart-strings in his hand.
+You love him—yes, Hagar, _him_ only, of all the world! You do not love
+me, or anybody else. From infancy the stream of your affections has run
+in one deep and narrow channel. Let that be checked, and the waves,
+turned to flame, will roll back upon your heart consuming it. Why, see,
+Hagar, see! when your wills clash, your pride is in arms—you oppose him,
+defy him, and he meets such defiance with a calm, quiet strength, not
+yielding an inch, and you suffer, as you are suffering now. Why suffer,
+Hagar? Tame that wild heart of yours. Hagar, the great secret of the
+power he possesses over you is this: he is calm, while you are
+impetuous—he can control _himself_, and thereby _you_—he can stifle, as
+you can not, that ‘mighty hunger of the heart,’ that craves a return of
+love—he can look coldly, sternly on you for days, weeks, while his very
+soul wails for your love. You cannot do this yourself, or bear it from
+him long; in a word, dear Hagar, you have neither might nor right on
+your side.”
+
+During all this speech Hagar had been standing with her face to the
+window, with her eyes burning and burning through the glass, and Sophie
+had been standing by her side with her arm around her waist caressingly.
+
+“Come, Hagar!” she whispered low, “let me confide to you some of my own
+feelings,” and while she spoke she slightly smiled, her voice slightly
+quivered as with bashfulness or happiness, and the rose clouds rolled up
+over her cheeks, and even flushed her brow,—“I love my husband so much,
+so much, so much, with a fulness of tenderness that it seems to me could
+not be expressed, except by suffering something—sacrificing something
+for his sake. I am sure sometimes I wish he would ask me to do something
+naturally repugnant to my feelings, that I might have one opportunity of
+showing him how much I do love; to give up my very dearest wish for his
+pleasure would give me exquisite joy—a joy that I crave. I do not
+comprehend this, dear, but so it is.”
+
+“Oh, _I_ comprehend it, Sophie, perfectly; it is the very same principle
+that led the saints ages ago to scourge and starve themselves to testify
+their love to God—God forgive them the blasphemy! You, Sophie, have a
+propensity to worship, and a very decided vocation for martyrdom, which,
+unfortunately, under existing circumstances, _I_ have not!” sneered the
+scornful girl.
+
+Sophie’s brow was crimson now, and the tears swam in her eyes an
+instant, and she remained silent. At last she said,
+
+“Hagar, I must go away now; I have some arrangements to make for old
+Cumbo before we go. But before I leave you, Hagar, let me say again, you
+love your husband, and he loves you; he can stifle his affection, you
+cannot yours; his will is strong and fixed, yours impulsive and erratic.
+Your tastes and habits are in some respects opposed, and he requires you
+to conform yours to his; and, Hagar, you will have to yield—to love now,
+or to force, without love, hereafter. Yield now, dear, yield. There is
+no degradation in making a sacrifice to love.”
+
+The high-spirited girl turned flashing around upon her—pride and scorn
+seemed sparkling, scintillating from face and figure, by glance and
+gesture.
+
+“Yes, there is degradation in sacrificing _freedom_ to love—freedom to
+_anything_ but God’s law!”
+
+Sophie paused, as if in doubt whether to go on, or to return and speak
+again. Finally she went out.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+Rosalia returned that evening, accompanied by Gusty and the Buncombes.
+The family expected to leave Heath Hall the next morning, after an early
+breakfast. The Buncombes were to remain all night to see them off, and
+to shut up the house after their departure. Rosalia happened soon to
+perceive the cloud upon Hagar’s brow, and watching her attentively, saw
+that there was something wrong between her and Raymond; and the simple
+girl, remarking that _her_ brow was angry and _his_ serene, assumed
+immediately that he was the injured party, and so, through her
+benevolence, it happened quite naturally that her voice and smile
+softened into more than kindliness, into sisterly affection as she
+frequently addressed him. What a contrast to Hagar’s dark brow, curled
+lip, and bitter tones! It was morning and midnight, sunshine and storm,
+discord and harmony, fierceness and gentleness, scorn and reverence,
+hate and love—I had nearly said Heaven and Hell contrasted.
+
+That evening! To Hagar it was an evening to remember, to date from.
+While she sat there watching the innocent, the childlike maiden, with
+her gentle beauty and winning grace, smiling so sweetly, kindly, in
+Raymond’s face, lighting his countenance up with _real_ and not
+conventional smiles, her mind flew back to the past, and all her
+childhood came before her; she recalled the day of Rosalia’s arrival at
+the Hall, and recollected how, from that day, she had drawn away all the
+love of the household from herself; she remembered that lately Augustus
+May had well nigh adored her, until the beauty and tenderness of Rosalia
+stole his heart away—and now! now! now!—oh “_that_ way madness lay”—she
+watched them covertly through her tortured eyes, and with a gnawing pain
+at the heart—distinct as any physical pain, sharp as though a scorpion
+living there stung it to agony. Thus the seeds of evil, sown in her
+heart ten years before, were springing up into a thorn tree, that,
+lacerating her own bosom, should wound all near her. And Rosalia, too,
+with all her sweet, endearing qualities, she was vain, and often
+selfish. It was difficult to perceive this in the dear girl whose
+caressing hands and tender eyes seemed always pleading for your love.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+The next morning early the family assembled at the breakfast-table for
+the last time at Heath Hall. And that last breakfast was over, and they
+arose and went down to the beach under the promontory, where the packet
+lay already laden with their personal effects. They reached the water’s
+edge, took an affectionate leave of Emily and Mr. Buncombe, entered the
+boat that lay waiting to receive them, and were rowed to the packet. As
+soon as she had seen them safely embarked, and the vessel on her way,
+Emily took her husband’s arm, saying,
+
+“Come, let us return; we have enough to do to close up everything at the
+Hall, for one day.”
+
+The packet wended on her way, in time reaching Baltimore, where another
+vessel, bound for New York, received them.
+
+At the end of a week from leaving Churchill’s Point, they arrived safely
+in New York harbor, where the U. S. store-ship Rainbow waited to receive
+Captain Wilde and his party.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+Before entering upon the new scenes and deeper life of our story, let me
+recall distinctly the facts of history, and daguerreotype a set of
+pictures upon which the sun shone on Saturday, the 28th of September,
+18—. First:
+
+CHURCHILL’S POINT—HEATH HALL.
+
+On Saturday, the 28th of September, the sun shone down on the waters of
+the Chesapeake Bay, as they washed sleepily up towards the shore; on the
+lazy and shabby little village of Churchill’s Point, with its
+steep-roofed old houses, with its small interests and dead-alive look;
+upon the burnished surface of the heath bronzing under the dry heat;
+upon the changing foliage of the distant forest dropping its leaves—and
+the sun shone down warm and still upon the dark red crumbling walls, the
+closed doors and boarded windows of the old Hall, and the tall dark
+poplar trees that waved like funeral plumes around it. Old Cumbo sat in
+the kitchen door, with the accustomed red handkerchief tied over her
+white and woolly hair, while her face, black, hard, and seamed with
+wrinkles, like an Indian walnut, was bent over her work, the tying up of
+dried herbs—fit guardian of such a desolation. It was a still, deserted
+scene, filled with low sad music—the waters moaned as they washed the
+shore—the wind sighed in the distant forest, and rushing over the heath,
+wailed through the poplar trees that rocked to and fro round the
+deserted house. Nature seemed to mourn the loss of the joyous
+worshipper, the exultant young life that had vanished from the scene.
+Keep this picture in your mind for a while, for years passed and brought
+no change, but change of seasons, to it.
+
+GROVE COTTAGE.
+
+The same morning the sun shone upon the Grove, refulgent in its still
+autumn glory, and falling upon the dry leaves and red berries of the
+rose trees, stole into the quiet parlor of the Cottage, still glittering
+in its sober, polished steel-like splendor, and smiled a morning smile
+upon the parson and his calm wife, sitting within. They were seated at
+opposite sides of a round table. The parson with his manuscript upon a
+small portable writing-desk, busy in correcting his sermons for the next
+day, while he carried on a desultory chat with his wife. Emily with her
+work-box before her, embroidering a very minute cap, and sustaining at
+her leisure her part in the quiet conversation. There they sat with no
+children to bind them together, yet loving and contented as a pair of
+partridges. They could not work apart, and the parson had abandoned his
+well appointed study and handsome writing-table, and Emily had forsaken
+her elegant workstand, and he had brought his manuscript, and she had
+brought her sewing to the small, round table, large enough, though, for
+the convenience of loving partners. And every day as soon as he arose,
+the sun looked full through the front window and laughed good morning,
+and every evening he glanced obliquely through the end window and smiled
+good night, with a promise to return. Remember this picture also, dear
+reader; for years passed away and brought no change to the Buncombes,
+except a baby to Emily, a little girl, born when she was thirty-seven,
+and two grey hairs to the parson, which Emily kissed when she saw them.
+
+THE U. S. STORE SHIP RAINBOW.
+
+The sun arose the same day upon the harbor, shipping, and city of New
+York, upon Brooklyn and its Navy Yard, and upon the store-ship Rainbow
+stationed there, and shining down upon the snowy sails, the well
+polished deck, the varnished tarpaulin hats and blue jackets of the
+sailors, the red coats and glittering bayoneted muskets of the marines,
+upon the flashing epaulets of the officers, at last stole down the
+gangway into the captain’s cabin, where around an elegantly appointed
+breakfast sat our party from Heath Hall, in the following order: Sophie
+at the head of the table, blushingly doing the honors of the coffee and
+tea—on her left sat Hagar, with Raymond by her side—on her right sat
+Rosalia, and next below her Gusty; then came several young officers of
+the crew, and at the foot of the table Captain Wilde presided over the
+dish before him. It was a novel sight and scene for our visitors.
+Hagar’s lightning eyes and apprehension had taken in all the wonders of
+the ship at a glance, and she had no more to learn and nothing to wonder
+at. Sophie seemed to defer her curiosity and govern her glances, until
+the absence of her guests and the settlement of herself and effects,
+gave her full opportunity of satisfying it. But Rosalia seemed as though
+her eyes would never weary of wandering over the strange new scene.
+Captain Wilde was in the finest spirits, as well he might be; Raymond
+serene as usual—but poor Gusty looked cloudy. A disappointment had
+overshadowed him. Another passed-midshipman was appointed to the
+Rainbow, and he was ordered to sea, and to sail in five weeks, for a
+voyage of three years. So Gusty was cast down, as well _he_ might be.
+Rosalia, with her sweet benevolence, was doing all that in her lay to
+soothe and comfort him. She promised to marry him when he came back; she
+would have promised anything in the world to have raised his spirits;
+and she continued to remind him that at least they had five weeks to
+spend together yet—a long, long time, she said; and at last Gusty got
+over the first shock of his disappointment, and became cheerful. Forget
+this picture as quickly as you please, for it changed and vanished like
+the shifting combinations of the kaleidoscope, and was never
+re-produced.
+
+Immediately after breakfast, Raymond and Hagar took leave of their
+friends, and entered a steamboat bound up the river.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXV.
+                              THE RIALTO.
+
+                          “Amongst the hills,
+        Seest thou not where the villa stands? The moonbeam
+        Strikes on the granite column, and mountains
+        Rise sheltering round it.”
+                                            LADY FLORA HASTINGS.
+
+
+The sun was setting on the evening of the third day from their departure
+from New York, as Mr. and Mrs. Withers stood upon the deck of the
+steamboat Venture, and watched the approach of a village on the eastern
+bank of the Hudson. It was a village of considerable importance as to
+size, and of great beauty of locality. Nearly all the houses were
+painted white, and nestled in and out among the trees and hills. Many of
+their windows faced the river, and flashed back the golden fire of the
+setting sun. While Hagar watched the distant, but fast approaching
+village, Raymond called her attention to a mansion-house on the same
+side of the river, and which being some quarter of a mile below the
+village, was now quite opposite to them. Hagar turned and gazed with all
+a rustic’s admiration, at the splendid mansion. Let me describe it as
+she then saw it. It stood half way up a forest-covered hill, which
+formed a background to the oblong square front of white freestone, with
+its eight upper windows and four lower windows separated by the handsome
+marble portico, and blazing in the sunbeams, presented to the view.
+
+“That is an elegant villa!” exclaimed Hagar.
+
+“And it is beautiful on a nearer view,” replied her husband.
+
+“I wonder whose it is?”
+
+“It is called ‘The Rialto,’ and belongs to a gentleman who is now
+travelling.”
+
+“Then it is unoccupied.”
+
+“It has been shut up a long time, and left in the care of a porter who
+lives at the gate, _but_ at the time I was last in this neighborhood,
+which, Hagar, was when I was returning, recalled by you, the house was
+undergoing repairs, cleaning, painting, &c., preparing for the reception
+of the owner, who was about to be married and bring home his young
+bride. I suppose by this time the coverings are all removed from the
+furniture, pictures, &c., that everything is in perfect readiness for
+the reception of the master.”
+
+While he spoke the sun sank below the horizon, and the blaze faded from
+the long windows of the villa just as the boat shot past. In ten more
+minutes she had reached the village of W——.
+
+Mr. Withers conducted his wife to the nearest hotel, and leaving her
+there, returned to attend to his baggage.
+
+Hagar sought a bed-chamber with a view of arranging her dress and
+smoothing her hair, that had been ruffled by the river breeze.
+
+What were Hagar’s feelings now that she was launched alone with her
+husband, out into a strange new scene? With one who was to be her
+constant companion for perhaps fifty or sixty years—for Hagar was but
+eighteen, and Raymond twenty-eight. High spirited, but forgiving, her
+fiery anger had expended itself long since, and her pride was quiet, as
+nothing new occurred to alarm it. But another feeling was alarmed and
+aroused—her latent and deep-seated jealousy—in a silent but deadly fear
+of losing value in his estimation by comparison with the beautiful and
+gentle Rosalia, she had lost something of her proud self-confidence.
+Besides, severed from the home and friends of her childhood, from all
+early habits and associations; in a new and untried scene, a stranger
+and alone with him, she felt her dependence upon him—all this, and the
+deep, strong, and exclusive love she bore him, conspired with _another_
+circumstance to soften the fierceness of her spirit, and tame the
+wildness of her manners. Hagar arranged her travelling dress, and
+smoothed her glossy ringlets, and sat down by the window to watch the
+coming of Raymond. Could you have seen her then you would have loved her
+for the new and strange tenderness shining softly in her eyes, and
+blushing faintly through her cheeks and lips as she leaned her face upon
+her hand, while her elbow rested on the window-sill. At last the quick
+light step of Raymond was heard upon the stairs, and he entered, saying—
+
+“Come, love! are you ready?”
+
+She arose and tied her bonnet.
+
+“Yes, and impatient to see our little home, dear Raymond—for a sweet
+_little_ home I suppose it will be, to accord with your salary.”
+
+He smiled and drew her arm in his, led her down stairs, and through the
+principal entrance to where a carriage stood before the door. A coachman
+sat upon the box; a footman in livery stood holding the door open;
+Raymond handed her in, followed her, and took a seat by her side. The
+footman put up the steps, closed the door, and sprang up behind. The
+carriage was driven off. It rolled through the village, and leaving its
+lights behind, entered a broad but dark forest road.
+
+“Where are we going?” inquired Hagar.
+
+“_Home_, my love!”
+
+“I thought that we were to reside in the village?”
+
+“Did you?”
+
+“Why, yes, certainly I did.”
+
+He drew her head down upon his bosom, and smoothing back her hair,
+kissed her forehead and then her lips; he seemed more inclined to caress
+than to converse, so she asked him no more questions then. He seemed to
+love her so tenderly and truly now, that she no longer defied him. And
+she was sinking into a sort of luxurious repose—which, we hope, may
+last. The carriage had been winding up a wooded hill, where the branches
+of the tall trees met overhead, so that Hagar, looking out, could
+scarcely see the stars glimmer through the foliage; at last it emerged
+from the woods and stopped; the steps were let down, the door opened.
+Raymond sprang out and held his hand to assist Hagar; then conducted her
+through a wide gate. It was dark, and she could see only trees, with
+glimpses of sward between them; and off to her left flitting in and out
+glimpses of a white house, whose size and shape it was impossible to
+detect. Their path formed a half circle and ascended; presently emerging
+from it, they stood before a large and elegant mansion, whose appearance
+corresponded with that of the villa she had so much admired on her way
+up the river. He led her up the broad marble stairs that led to the
+front door—opened the door, from which a flood of light poured, letting
+go her hand, stepped in before her, turned, opened his arms, and said,
+in a voice of deep emotion,
+
+“Come, dear Hagar! Let me welcome you to your long, future home—welcome!
+welcome! dear wife, to arms, and bosom, and home.”
+
+Hagar threw herself into his embrace, and then he led her through a door
+opening from the left into a superb drawing-room, furnished in the old,
+gorgeous style, with a rich Turkey carpet “that stole all noises from
+the feet,” with crimson velvet, gold fringed curtains hanging from the
+windows, and opposite from the lofty arch that divided the front from
+the back room; with heavy chairs and sofas, whose crimson coverings
+harmonized with the curtains; with crystal mirrors reaching from ceiling
+to floor; with rare paintings from the old masters; with costly and
+curious lamps, whose light glowing through the stained glass shades upon
+the crimson appointments of the room, diffused a rich, subdued
+refulgence through the scene. Raymond led Hagar to one of the deep
+arm-chairs, and seating her, pulled the bell-rope. The door opened, and
+the footman who had attended them, stood a step within the room.
+
+“Request Mrs. Collins to come to us.”
+
+The man bowed and withdrew. Soon the door again opened, and a small,
+elderly woman, in a black silk dress and a neat cap, made her
+appearance.
+
+“My dear Hagar, this is our housekeeper—the excellent Mrs. Collins—she
+will show you your dressing-room; you will find your trunks all there,
+or near at hand, and will have ample time to change your travelling
+dress before supper, and we have still a long evening before us.
+To-morrow I will take you over the house,” said he, in a low voice, as
+Mrs. Collins approached them—then, “Be so good as to show Mrs. Withers
+to her rooms, Mrs. Collins,” he said aloud, and the nice little woman
+smiled, withdrew, reappeared with a lamp, and conducted our Hagar,
+silently wondering, through the passage and up the broad staircase to a
+front room immediately over the drawing-room. It was a large, light,
+airy room, with two tall front windows curtained with white dimity,
+between which stood a dressing-table with a tall, swinging mirror. At
+the opposite end of the room was a mahogany door leading into her
+bed-chamber, and on each side of the door stood two large, tall mahogany
+wardrobes; the coverings of the lounge, easy chair, &c., were white, and
+the walls were covered with paper of a white ground, over which ran a
+vine of green leaves, with here and there a small, scarlet flower. The
+carpet on the floor was of the same cheerful pattern; the room had an
+inexpressibly clean, pure, and fragrant character. Placing her keys in
+the hands of Mrs. Collins, Hagar requested her to unpack, and arrange
+her wardrobe, and then proceeded to make her toilet. And Hagar resolving
+to look her best, to do honor to the first evening passed with her
+husband in their own home, arranged her beautiful ringlets in their most
+becoming fall, arrayed herself in rich amber-colored satin, and clasped
+topaz bracelets on her arms—rubies and topazes were the only jewels
+Hagar owned—the only ones in fact that her Egypt complexion would bear.
+Her present dress and ornaments harmonized beautifully with her dark
+complexion, while her jetty brows, black eyes and eye-lashes, and long,
+black, glittering ringlets, relieved the amber-hued complexion and dress
+from sameness. She descended to the drawing-room, at the door of which
+Raymond received her, led her smiling to the sofa, and took a seat
+beside her, just as the crimson curtains were drawn each side from the
+centre of the arch, exposing a small, but elegant supper-table, with
+covers for two. Raymond arose, and offering his arm again with a smile,
+said—
+
+“You see I have to do all the honors of reception and introduction, dear
+Hagar;” and passing to the other room, placed her at the head of the
+table, before a glittering tea service of elegantly-chased silver, and
+of Sevres porcelain. “I see that you are wondering, Hagar, to find me in
+possession of a comfortable home; suspend your curiosity, dearest, until
+after supper, when I will make the very simple explanation.”
+
+And after supper, when they were seated together in the drawing-room, he
+said—
+
+“I am not wealthy, which is the second mistake which you have made about
+me; neither am I poor, as you supposed when you married me, dear girl.
+This house, just as it is, was the country-seat of my grandfather,
+General Raymond, who, holding a high office under the Government, was in
+the receipt of an ample income that enabled him to keep up this style of
+living. This income of course died with him. This house, with its
+grounds of about twenty-five acres, and a small amount of bank stock,
+was left to me. That money was withdrawn and profitably invested, and
+its proceeds bring me an annual amount equal to the salary I receive for
+conducting the Newton School. It is true that it will take every cent of
+my salary to support this style. And if you ask me, Hagar, why I, a
+young professor, choose to live in a princely house, with a complete
+establishment of servants, I tell you that it is not from
+ostentation—you know me to be too really proud for that—but from a
+constitutional love and necessity of luxury. I told you before that my
+senses were keen and delicate—I had almost said intellectual—not strong,
+or gross. Forms and colors must be agreeably contrasted, or harmoniously
+blended and grouped for my eye; sounds must be music, or those that are
+not must come subdued through the hushings of soft carpets and velvet
+curtains; all scents, but the scent of fresh and growing flowers, must
+be kept far from the rooms I occupy; my table must be supplied with food
+delicate and nutritious; and lastly, nothing but soft or elastic
+substances must come in contact with my touch—at least in my home.”
+
+“But how, with your delicate tastes, can you bear your school-room?”
+asked Hagar.
+
+“My school-room, lecture rooms, hall, &c., among which I pass just five
+hours a day, are each large, airy, clean, and _bare_; that is, bare of
+every article of furniture not strictly necessary; so that if there is
+nothing to _delight_, there is nothing to _offend_—for the rest, you
+know that teaching is my vocation, my passion. I give myself fully up to
+it during the hours of instruction, and when they are over, I return
+with revived relish for the luxuries of home—enjoyments that would pall
+upon the taste if they were not relieved by their absence during the
+hours of intellectual labor, which goes on in another place, and which
+is itself another keen enjoyment of a different and higher order; as it
+is, each relieves and enhances the other.”
+
+“But why,” asked Hagar, “keep so many and such expensive servants, to
+wait on two young people who are not rich?”
+
+“For many reasons, Hagar; for one thing it requires all of them, each in
+his or her appropriate place, to keep the house in the perfect order we
+wish, and in the second, I like to receive the services and
+veneration—not of Colonel A, B, and C, or Judge D, E, or F, but of
+people who live with me—by the way, remember that, love.”
+
+“But then,” persisted Hagar, “why keep Mrs. Collins, whose salary must
+be large?”
+
+“To oversee the others, and keep everything upon velvet, of course.”
+
+“I could do that, dear Raymond.”
+
+“But you shall not, dear Hagar. You are the lady of the mansion; but
+forget the house. I could not bear to see your brow corrugated by the
+thousand and one cares of housekeeping, or to have you come near me with
+the odor of pantries or stove-rooms hanging about you, for I should be
+sure to detect it through any disguise of perfume; and that is the great
+reason why I keep Mrs. Collins. You have nothing to do with the house,
+love. Cultivate your beauty, Hagar; refine it; you have nothing else to
+do, except to take lessons on the harp, which lessons and practice will
+help to fill up the hours of my _absence_, Hagar; for indeed, love, I
+think it would give me a brain fever to hear your unpractised fingers
+strumming discord in my ears.”
+
+“Will you permit me to inquire,” asked Hagar, “why, with your sensitive,
+delicate, and luxurious tastes, you could fancy”—
+
+“Such a wild, dark little savage as yourself?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+He raised her from the sofa, and turning around, faced the full length
+mirror that occupied the space between the two windows behind it.
+
+“Look at your reflection, Hagar,” her eyes and _color_ raised at the
+same moment. “You are a little dark, sparkling creature, your effect is
+exhilarating. A languishing beauty in these languishing rooms would have
+been softness to flatness. Are not the perfumes more piquant when
+conveyed through the medium of spirits of wine? You are just _l’esprit_
+that gives life to all this soft luxury; and look again, Hagar—survey
+yourself—see, this amber dress and amber complexion suit well together;
+and this is harmony. Suppose your hair was of the same hue, then the
+_tout ensemble_ would be dull, flat, wearisome. But your ringlets fall
+black and glittering upon the amber-hued neck and bosom, and this is
+contrast. Thus contrast and harmony form the perfection of your toilet.”
+
+“I am sure I never thought of that,” said Hagar, “when wishing to do
+honor to your fine house I put on a fine dress: but now I suppose—though
+I do not care to have my mind skewered down to such trifles—I must think
+a little more of it, as I suspect that in this grand house you receive
+grand company sometimes.”
+
+“_Never_, Hagar; how do you suppose I could afford it? for if I received
+grand company I should be invited to grand dinners, and have to give
+them in return, and that would disturb the luxurious repose of our house
+and life—no, Hagar, I am too self-indulgent to be ostentatious, or even
+hospitable. I like everything upon velvet, all downy, reposing, silent,
+or breathing low music”—
+
+“Except me.”
+
+“Not _always_ excepting you—I like your spirit tempered a
+little—thus—look again into the mirror, Hagar; I said your glittering
+blue-black ringlets, smoothed and gemmed as they are, form an agreeable
+contrast to the harmony of your dress; but now suppose that black hair
+hung in the wild elf locks of the little savage of the heath, as I first
+knew her—would that be agreeable any way?—no—well! govern—as it were,
+smoothe and gem your piquancy; in a word, use your wildness as you do
+your hair,” and they turned and reseated themselves.
+
+The next morning, after breakfast, Raymond took her all over the house;
+there were two floors besides the basement and attic—on each floor four
+large rooms handsomely furnished. Through the middle of each floor ran a
+hall, from front to back, dividing the rooms in pairs; on the lower
+floor on the left hand side of the hall were the drawing-room and
+dining-room we have seen them use on the first evening of their arrival;
+on the right hand side was a large saloon, once used for balls, but now
+closed as useless. He took her through the grounds, all handsomely laid
+out; a vineyard on the right, a kitchen garden in the middle, and an
+orchard on the left, occupying the ground behind the house, and further
+behind ascended the wooded hills. A smooth lawn descending the hill
+towards the river, was dotted here and there with trees, which were now
+dropping their leaves. The orchard was laden with the finest
+fruit—apples, peaches, pears, &c., under the highest cultivation; the
+vineyard rich in clustering grapes, brought to the nearest possible
+state of perfection. This was Wednesday; on the following Monday Raymond
+resumed his professional labors, and Hagar wandered up and down the fine
+house, with every part of which she was now quite familiar, very weary
+and lonesome. She felt confined, restrained, and oppressed by her new
+state. True, she was still in the country, but not on her wild heath,
+with her horse and dogs. _This_ country was thickly settled, well
+cultivated, and closely studded with gentlemen’s seats.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXVI.
+                            THE LOVE ANGEL.
+
+             “She is soft as the dew-drops that fall
+               From the lips of the sweet scented pea;
+             But then when she smiles upon _all_!
+               Can I joy that she smiles upon _me_?”
+                                                 MACKENZIE.
+
+
+Our dear Sophie, with her quiet adaptiveness, had easily and gracefully
+passed from rustic life into city life, into naval life, without losing
+any of her individuality. Her country every-day dress of brown stuff was
+now changed for a brown satin, her seal-skin shoes for patent morocco
+slippers, and her muslin collar for one of fine lace. Her smooth brown
+hair, instead of being knotted into a neat twist behind her head, was
+arranged in a beautiful braid.
+
+The inevitable knitting-needles _had_ to be plied, in sad old hall or in
+gay new state room; they were a part of Sophie, and she could as well
+have dispensed with her fingers; they were necessary to keep time with
+the music of Sophie’s serene temperament—only now they knit silken nets
+and purses instead of woollen socks. This was all the change you could
+perceive in Sophie, looking at her half across the cabin; but if you
+went and sat down beside her, you would then see that her eye was
+bright, her cheek lively, and her lip fresh, with an inward and
+emanating joy. She sat quiet enough in her cabin, with Rosalia seated on
+a cushion by her side. Rosalia loved cushions and low seats, where she
+could sit and loll upon Sophie lazily and lovingly, like a petted
+baby-girl, as she was. And Sophie loved to have her there with her
+golden hair floating over her lap. Sometimes, tired of repose, Rosalia
+would bring out her portfolio or sketch book, embroidery frame or
+guitar, or pursue some of the thousand occupations by which girls
+contrive to destroy time. These were during the morning hours before it
+was time to dress for dinner, where Captain Wilde received daily,
+several of the officers. They (Sophie and Rosalia) were quiet enough,
+yet Captain Wilde seemed to be haunted with a fear that some hour he
+should wake from a dream, and find his happiness vanished into thin air,
+by the number of times while on deck, that he would come to the gangway,
+and looking down upon his treasures, exclaim gladly, “Oh! you are
+there!”
+
+Most frequently Gusty May made a third in the cabin, his impetuous mirth
+rattling along like thunder, and then suddenly smothered with a sigh
+like a big sough of wind in the sails, and sometimes darkened by great
+clouds between his eyes and nose that threatened rain; nay, sometimes as
+he looked at Rosalia’s serene joy the rain-drops would gather in his
+eyes—though I have an idea that Gusty would have challenged any man who
+would have told him so.
+
+Sometimes when the weather was inviting, Sophie and Rosalia, attended by
+Captain Wilde or Gusty May, or both, would visit the city.
+
+Time glided swiftly away. Two weeks of Gusty’s visit were over, but
+three weeks remained before he would have to go to sea, and the clouds
+daily gathered thicker over the Gusty sky, when one day the young
+midshipman who had been appointed to take the post poor Gusty coveted so
+much, came on board for the first time. It was not in Gusty’s large,
+generous, and trusting soul, to be easily jealous, neither was it in his
+human nature to look indifferently upon the young officer, who, during
+his own absence, was to fill a post near the person of his beloved, so
+ardently desired by himself. The staff of officers on board the ship was
+small, consisting of Captain Wilde, Lieutenant Graves, a married man,
+solemn and repulsive as his name, a little freckle-faced midshipman, and
+now this new officer, this young passed-midshipman, this _Misther_
+Murphy, as Gusty maliciously emphasized his title, what was he going to
+look like? Gusty wished in his heart that he might be knock-kneed and
+cross-eyed. Alas for Gusty! Mr. Murphy, Mr. Patrick Murphy O’Murphy, a
+Southerner of Irish descent—stood six feet six inches in his boots! had
+the handsomest leg, the broadest shoulders, the fullest chest, the
+blackest whiskers, and the whitest teeth, in the service. Alas for
+Gusty! it was too much! he filled right up! he could have sobbed, gushed
+out, liquidated, deliquesced, fallen upon and overflowed the shoulders
+of the first friend that came in his way, but for his self-esteem that
+striking up through all this softness, stiffened and sustained him! Poor
+Gusty! he was in the briers until he could hear what Rosalia thought of
+“Mister Murphy,” yet he had an invincible repugnance to name him to her,
+and to ask her in so many words, what she thought of “Mr. Murphy”—_no!_
+_thumb-screws_ would not have wrung such a question from him!
+nevertheless he must arrive at her opinion of “Mr. Murphy,” or die. Mr.
+Murphy had been presented to the ladies about half an hour before
+dinner, and had dined with the Captain. After the ladies had retired
+from the table and while the gentlemen still lingered over their wine,
+Gusty slipped away and followed them into the cabin. Sophie was away
+somewhere. Rosalia was alone. He went up to her, sat down, and drew her
+on a seat by his side. After all sorts of a desultory, wild, and
+nonsensical conversation, he suddenly said to her:
+
+“Rosalia, do you like handsome men?”
+
+“Yes,” said Rosalia, calmly, “I like handsome folks.”
+
+“Pshaw! that is just like you. Who is the handsomest man now you ever
+saw in your life, Rosalia?”
+
+“Oh! _Captain Murphy, certainly_—far the handsomest person I ever saw in
+all my life!”
+
+“The d—l! I said so—Irish bog-trotter.”
+
+“Oh, don’t use profane language, dear Gusty, please.”
+
+“_Captain_, indeed, you simple girl—_he’s_ no captain!”
+
+“Ain’t he? I thought he was; indeed he _looks_ like one.”
+
+“Oh, he looks like a prince, a king, an emperor, a demi-god, don’t he?
+Ain’t he like Apollo Belvidere, now?”
+
+“Yes, I think he is,” said Rose, quietly, “just my idea of the Apollo.”
+
+“Set fire to him!” blazed Gusty.
+
+“Oh! don’t swear—please don’t”—pleaded Rose. “Why do you not like him,
+dear Gusty? _I_ do, I like him, and I am sure you ought to like him
+_because I do_—and you ought to be kind to him because, poor fellow!
+look at his melancholy blue eyes—”
+
+“Oh! his melancholy blue devils!”
+
+“Oh! Gusty, hush!” said she, softly, putting her hand on his lips.
+
+“But this is too trying! I be _whipped_ if it ain’t! I do believe the
+devil has taken my affairs under his own particular care! but I won’t
+put up with it! I be _whipped_ if I do! I’ll call this fellow out!”
+
+“Call him where?”
+
+“Call him _out_! fight him! thrash him! jump through him—crush him—grind
+him—down into an ink spot, and then erase him!”
+
+“What has he done to you, Gusty, that you hate him so, and he so
+beautiful, too?”
+
+“Done to me!” snapped Gusty. “Oh, Rose, shut up! you are such a fool!”
+
+This was too much for Rosalia—she had been growing softer every instant,
+and now melted into tears. Then Gusty’s indignation turned upon himself,
+called himself a barbarian, a brute, a monster, and begged Rosy to knock
+him down. Rose dried her morning dew tears and smiled again just as
+Sophie entered. A week passed away, and now but two weeks remained of
+the visit. A week, during which Gusty had contrived to circulate around
+his sun so rapidly and constantly as to prevent the comet Murphy from
+crossing his orbit. Still he was very unhappy in the idea of leaving his
+treasure unguarded—had serious thoughts of throwing up his
+commission—when one day on deck the young passed-midshipman, whom, by
+the way, he had treated very coldly at all times, placed himself by his
+side, and drawing his arm within his own, began to promenade the deck,
+saying,
+
+“Come, my fine fellow! I know all about it, and may be can do something
+for you. Wilde told me all about it—your love—and hopes, and
+disappointments, and everything. Now, I am going to perpetrate a real
+Irish blunder—going—what do you think—_to sea in your place_, and to let
+you stay here with this sweet girl—easy—easy, man! steady! so! hear me
+out. My father is a senator from the state of ——, is a particular friend
+of the Secretary of War. I have written to him to get our appointments
+reversed. Hush! hush! no gratitude, my _dear_ fellow, it is all
+selfishness—_Irish_ selfishness!” and his blue eyes and white teeth
+shone radiantly in the kind smile he turned upon Gusty, and Gusty, oh!
+his emotion, his joy, gratitude, and remorse, is _unreportable_!—no, not
+to be set down against him! At last, to moderate the raptures of his
+gratitude, blue eyes and white teeth assured him that _he_ wished (blue
+eyes, &c.,) particularly to visit the port of ——, whither the ship to
+which Gusty had been appointed, was bound, and that therefore he _had_ a
+selfish reason for his seeming generosity. Later in the week, Gusty
+became the repository of a love-confidence from Midshipman Murphy. At
+the end of the week the appointments were reversed. Mr. Murphy was
+ordered to the Mediterranean, and Mr. May appointed passed-midshipman of
+the good ship Rainbow.
+
+These orders were received early one morning. In the afternoon Gusty and
+the young Irishman were on deck together. They were great friends, you
+may rest assured. The following conversation occurred. Rosalia had just
+left them. She had been conversing with Gusty with all her usual calm
+and guileless affection.
+
+“It does me good to think that you will remain here with that sweet
+girl, May.”
+
+“You’re a good fellow, Murphy. God bless you.”
+
+“And you’re a _happy_ fellow, May. God _has_ blessed you.”
+
+“Happy! yes, by Jove! I only wish you knew how devilish ‘happy’ I am,”
+said Gusty, with a bitter sneer.
+
+“Why, what is the matter? jealous again, another rival?”
+
+“Oh, no! it is not that.”
+
+“What is it then?”
+
+Gusty had one great failing, an inability to keep his troubles to
+himself, a propensity to melt like a snow-drift in the sun at the first
+sympathy that shone on him.
+
+“She is very fond of you,” said Mr. Murphy.
+
+“Yes! that is just exactly what troubles me.”
+
+“Come! you are very reasonable!”
+
+“Oh! for the Lord’s sake don’t make fun of me! _don’t_! It is no jesting
+matter!”
+
+“Poor fellow! how he is to be pitied because a sweet girl annoys him
+with her love.”
+
+“See here! now don’t! I can’t stand it. Love me? _Yes, she does._ She
+loves her old, poor blind nurse Cumbo—uncle’s Newfoundland dog, Juno,
+and _me_ about in the same proportion, and in the same manner.”
+
+“Whew-ew-w!”
+
+“_Fact_ I am telling you—listen now again. I have watched her—_have I
+not?_ She will caress _me_ right before her aunt’s face, freely and
+calmly as though I were her grandmother—then dropping her arms from
+around my neck, she will call Juno and caress _her_ with equal
+affection! and then my uncle, she always runs to meet him and throws
+herself in his arms when he comes! and yourself, you remember how she
+received you, with a gentle affectionate welcome, as though you were an
+accredited candidate for a share of her universal love.”
+
+“Are you betrothed?”
+
+“Certainly, these many weeks, and when I talk of marriage she blushes
+and smiles, it is true, but not with love! only with a bashful
+repugnance to make herself a prominent object of attention as a bride.
+Yet she tells me she loves me! Oh, yes, she loves me! and the next
+minute she will throw her arms around Juno’s neck and tell her she loves
+_her_! and with _equal fervor_. And if ever I complain to her that she
+does not love me, she weeps as though I did her an injury. Nearly three
+months have I spent in trying to kindle one spark, to touch one chord of
+responsive passion in her bosom. I have poured my whole soul forth at
+her feet, and she looks at me with her calm, sweet eyes, and wonders at
+me, I know she does, for a sort of Orlando Furioso, and drives me nearly
+distracted by insisting that she _does_ love me, when I feel that she
+does _not_, or even know what she is talking about. I would give my
+commission to see her blush, tremble, shrink when I caress her—the devil
+of it is that she loves me like a baby loves her grandmother, nor does
+she dream of, nor can I awaken her to any other love! Her affections,
+her caresses are freely bestowed upon man, woman, child, or beast alike.
+I have never seen her shrink with averted eyes from the eye or
+conversation of but _one_ man, and _that_ was not in the first part of
+their acquaintance, it was only just before they parted, and now that I
+recall it, great God! it comes up before me in a new light,” said Gusty,
+in his impetuosity forgetting to whom he was talking—“they were standing
+where we now stand. I was near them. He was speaking to her of
+unimportant matters, the names of the ships, &c., he was looking at her.
+I being on the other side of him could not see his eyes, but suddenly
+she raised _her_ eyes. I felt that she met _his_—her color came and
+went, her bosom rose and fell, then turning around she held her hand out
+to me, with her face averted. I drew it through my arm and carried her
+off for a promenade. That hour I quietly ascribed her disturbance to
+bashfulness or fear, but _now_ that I recall it in connexion with the
+subject of our conversation, a new, a dreadful light seems to break over
+it, but no! Oh, God! _that_ would be too dreadful!”
+
+“But what man was this, then?”
+
+Gusty had suddenly grown quite white, and now the color rushed into his
+face, crimsoning his brow, and swelling the veins like cords.
+
+“What man was it, then, that possessed the power of agitating this calm
+beauty?”
+
+“DON’T ask me!” broke forth Gusty, “I am mad! Oh, it is just madness now
+for me to dream such horrors! stay, let me hold my head! Murphy, don’t
+mind _me_,—I am crazy! the girl’s coldness has just set me beside
+myself!”
+
+They were silent some time, and then Gusty, suddenly seizing Murphy’s
+arm, exclaimed,
+
+“Murphy, forget all my raving, will you? I am a fool! I shall be jealous
+next of her embroidery frame!”
+
+It was not so easy to forget his agitation during the half-confiding of
+the slight suspicion. The friends soon after separated.
+
+Gusty went into the cabin. He found Rosalia happy over a pair of doves,
+a parting present left for her by Mr. Murphy.
+
+“Oh, Gusty,” she said, “come look at my beautiful young doves—this white
+one is a boy, and his name is Snowflake, and this silver-grey one is a
+girl, and her name is Dewdrop!”
+
+“Umph! two new claimants for a few of the infinitesimal atoms of your
+divided heart,” said Gusty, sitting down beside her. He was indisposed
+for conversation,—he was feeling too bitterly that the profound heart of
+the beautiful and gentle girl was still unmoved.
+
+Girls who virtually pledge their affections where they cannot love, do
+not so often commit this grievous error from the authority and commands
+of parents or guardians, from the persuasion of friends, from ambition,
+or for convenience, as from a different, a more amiable, yet still more
+improper set of motives, inspired by benevolence and love of
+approbation—thus: A young girl, with the deeps of her heart yet
+undisturbed, becomes the object of an ardent admiration—her vanity is
+stimulated and gratified—she may even mistake this pleasure for
+affection, and from pure ignorance of her own and her lover’s nature,
+and of the misery she may bring upon herself and others, she continues
+to receive and encourage his attentions. His admiration deepens into
+love, then her pity is moved, and though she cannot return the
+affection, she cannot resist the suit, and the hand is bestowed without
+the heart. As far as my limited experience extends, I have reason to
+believe that benevolence, love of approbation, together with a want of
+firmness, mislead more girls into the formation of ill-considered
+engagements than any other set of causes whatsoever.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXVII.
+                           AGNES AND AGATHA.
+
+            “Oh, Heaven of bliss, when the heart overflows
+            With the rapture a _mother_ only knows.”
+                                                HENRY WARE.
+
+
+Something less than a year had passed since the settlement of Mr. and
+Mrs. Withers in their new home. It was now early autumn. Let me
+introduce you into that large, beautiful, and fragrant dressing-room
+into which Mrs. Collins had conducted our Hagar upon the first night of
+her arrival. The room wears the same pure and elegant appearance that it
+presented nearly a year since—nothing is changed, except by the addition
+of one article of furniture—near the right hand front corner of the room
+stands a large rose-wood crib, with beautifully embroidered thin white
+muslin curtains drawn around it. Let us draw back the curtains and look
+within—upon a downy pillow, covered with the finest, smoothest lawn,
+repose two babes of a few weeks old; we can only see their beautiful
+heads and faces, for their tiny forms are lightly covered by the white
+silk eider down quilt. But look at their sleeping faces, and tell me who
+they resemble—their fine blue-black hair looks like floss silk—we may be
+sure that their eyes are black by the slender eye-brows traced like a
+black pencil curve, and by the long black lashes that repose upon the
+crimson cheeks; look at the noble foreheads, at the elegant features;
+look at the delicate crimson lips, with the spirited curve of the upper
+one. They are our Hagar’s children! would you not have recognised and
+claimed them if you had found them in the wilderness? They are our
+Hagar’s twins—duplicate miniatures of herself—and now her bedroom door
+opens and she comes in, pacing slowly in an India muslin wrapper, with
+her ringlets glittering down as we used to see them; she comes and
+pauses softly, bending over the infant sleepers. Now, whether it is the
+reflection of the white muslin curtains, together with her white
+dressing robe, or whether her many months sedentary in-door life, and
+her recent illness had bleached her into a blonde, is not known; but
+certainly she is many shades fairer, and much thinner than when we saw
+her last; her carnation cheek has faded to a pale rose tint, her eyes
+are not so wild and bright, they are larger, sadder; instead of a
+lightning glance, they have now an earnest gaze; and see while she
+stoops over them till the ends of her bright ringlets rest upon the
+counterpane, her bosom heaves, her cheek flushes, her lips glow and
+open, her eyes grow bright and brighter, and her soul, pouring from her
+countenance, bathes the sleepers in a libation of love and blessing. How
+earnest her eyes are! how devotional her whole air, as her lips move in
+silent heart-worship! Now the passage door opened, and Raymond enters,
+going up to his wife’s side; he stood contemplating the children in
+silence, until she took his hand, and drawing his arm around her waist,
+turned and buried her face passionately in his bosom, while her ringlets
+fell over his circling arms. Then raising her head, she pointed to the
+sleeping infants, and exclaimed with enthusiasm,
+
+“Are they not beautiful, dearest?”
+
+“Yes, love, yes—but you have asked me that question every few days for
+the last month, and I have always answered you in the same words; when
+they grow ugly, love, I will tell you.”
+
+Hagar’s eyes were again turned on her children—her soul was again
+bathing them with love.
+
+“Shall I not have to grow jealous of these little girls, who take up so
+much of your time and thoughts, love?”
+
+“Jealous of these children? of these children who make me love you?”
+exclaimed Hagar, embracing him fervently. “Oh! my husband! so much more
+than ever I loved you before! they have deepened and widened my love.
+Ah, my own! my own Raymond—_try_ my love now, and see how much stronger
+its texture is—it will bear a great deal of pulling now, Raymond—ask me
+to give up anything _now_, Raymond, and see if I make a fuss about my
+pride and dignity—my pride! as if I could set up a separate
+establishment of pride—and my dignity, as if I could not trust it in
+your keeping, Raymond, dear Raymond!—as if I _could_ have a separate
+interest or a separate will—but you loved the unblessed maiden—will you
+not love more, a great deal more, the blessed mother—say, Raymond! say!”
+Her ardent soul, inspired by her passionate affections, was kindling
+into exalted enthusiasm, and glowing through all the features of her
+beautiful face; breaking through and bearing down all screens of reserve
+or pride. “Say, Raymond! say! oh, I love you so much now—I crave such a
+fulness of return—say, Raymond! say, how much more than the unblessed
+maiden do you love the doubly blessed mother?”
+
+“My Hagar!” said he, softly, “try to be calm, love; moderate your
+enthusiasm, get used to your joy; these children have been with you long
+enough for that.”
+
+“Ah! but every time I look at them again a new joy breaks up from the
+bottom of my heart—just as though they were newly given me. And then to
+think that there are _two_—so perfectly beautiful—_two!_ God not
+satisfied to give us _one_, gives us two. Oh, blessed be God! When I
+forget to thank, to worship Him, may these dear ones forget me. Two!”
+said she, panting, and taking breath, while her color came and went—“two
+love-angels!—and so perfectly beautiful—and so perfectly alike—and so
+loving! look, Raymond!” and she turned down the counterpane, “see, lay
+them as I will, in a few minutes they are sure to attract each other, to
+subside together, as it were, until shoulder touches shoulder and cheek
+meets cheek.” And then she placed their little hands together softly,
+without waking them, her lips parted and glowed over them an instant,
+she kissed them lightly and covered them again. “And oh, what a charge!
+God has given me two pure angels to guard from contamination! I must
+pray more; I must pray a great deal; I must get the Lord to take me into
+his confidence about these children, these cherubs. Oh, thank, dearest,
+thank the Lord for the gift of these two spotless angels, and pray, pray
+that we may be enabled to present them before his throne, pure as we
+received them from his hands.” Her face was inspired, was radiant with
+love, awe, and worship, as she continued, “I receive these babes as the
+deposit of a special trust from God; he has given me two of his own most
+beautiful children, shall I not try to be worthy of his confidence? Yes!
+yes! my two angels,” said she, bending over them again. “How beautiful
+are the works of his hands! Raymond, do but look how perfectly beautiful
+they are! These little black, silky heads; these fine brows and delicate
+features.”
+
+“They are very much like _you_, love.”
+
+“They are very much like each other.”
+
+“They are duplicate copies. I cannot tell one from the other by the
+closest examination.”
+
+“Can you not, indeed, now—oh ! it is easy—I never made a mistake about
+them; this is Agnes and this is Agatha, you know.” And then she began to
+point out some infinitesimal marks of distinction, that none but a
+mother’s eye could possibly have detected. “Now do you not see?”
+
+“I do not, love; you will have to dress them differently.”
+
+“Oh! never!”
+
+“Or tie some badge upon the eldest, that I may know them apart,” smiled
+Raymond, shaking his head with all its golden waves.
+
+“And you are so handsome, Raymond!” exclaimed she, clasping his form,
+and burying her face again in his bosom. “And, oh! are we not happy? are
+we not God-blessed—are we not so entirely united—can we have an interest
+or a wish apart now? Oh, dearest Raymond, through all the ages of
+eternity you and I—are we not one?”
+
+“Dear love, be quiet, you talk so much,” said he, softly and smilingly
+lifting her head from his bosom.
+
+“Talk! oh! how can I help it, dearest Raymond, when my God-given life
+and love grows too strong for suppression? I have seen the emotions of
+other women escape in quiet tears of joy, but I am not given to tears,
+you know; there is too much fire in my composition—oh! how can I help
+talking, Raymond? I _must_ speak or consume, Raymond! Does not the horse
+neigh for joy when he feels his strong life—and what volumes of music,
+filling earth and sky, the little bird throws from his tiny chest for
+joy; the flowers bloom for joy; the trees _wave_ for joy; the streams
+_run_ for joy; the cataract leaps over its rocky precipice with a
+_shout_ of joy; nay, the _earth_—the earth _whirls_ around the sun in a
+reel of joy; and shall I, shall I with all this God-given life, this
+love, this joy, this gladness, this glory, kindling, burning, and
+glowing, striking up from my bosom—shall I suppress it? turning back to
+cold silence and ingratitude? No, Father. No, angels. No, husband. No,
+children. You shall _hear_ how happy I am in the worship of joy!—in the
+worship of joy!”
+
+You might see the fire of her ardent soul, as the flame glowed upon her
+lips, wavered over her crimson cheek, and shot in radiant glances from
+her eyes, as she spoke; now gazing with rapt inspiration on her
+children; now turning, and fervently embracing her husband, with a
+_pure_, though passionate love!
+
+“You would make a good camp-meeting subject, love,” said he, smiling.
+
+“Oh, Raymond, _now_ I understand the enthusiasm of camp-meetings; the
+ecstasy of conversion. Say they sometimes fall, or seem to fall, from
+grace, from bliss; why that is human, that is natural; the spring
+sometimes backslides into winter for days, yet we do not upon that
+account deny the presence of spring, or the approach of summer; both
+seasons, summer to the year, sanctification to the soul—with all
+impediments, all relapses and collapses; all weaknesses and falls; all
+wanderings and retrogradings—still advance—on! and up! under the
+guidance of Divinity.”
+
+“You are strangely changed, Hagar—not in your individuality, but in your
+proportions—from the positive of wild to the superlative of wildest.”
+
+“I am not wilder. Oh, Raymond! my life is deeper, higher, broader,
+fuller—for these children, for these messengers from Heaven. Let my
+heart sing its song of joy. Oh, Raymond! when we are _un_happy, even
+when we ourselves have brought the unhappiness upon us, the calmest of
+us cry out in tones of grief, bitterness, and reproach, ‘God! God!’ and
+no one complains of its extravagance! Shall we not, when we are blessed
+and happy, sing in tones of grateful rapture, ‘God! God!’”
+
+“You must be quiet, love! be calm. I just looked in to bid you good
+morning before going out. Shall you be able to come down into the
+drawing-room this evening?”
+
+“Yes,” replied Hagar, softly, and half abstractedly.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+The lamps were lighted in the drawing-room. Hagar was seated at her
+piano, practising a piece of new music. She was attired with taste and
+elegance in a crimson satin, that the coolness of the evening rendered
+appropriate at this season. Her hair was gemmed and braided so that the
+long ringlets held away from her cheeks and brow fell behind. In the
+first months of their marriage it had been Raymond’s pleasure to have
+her elegantly attired to receive him in the evening, and of late, it had
+grown into a habit and a necessity to herself. She sat now awaiting him.
+Presently he entered softly, and she arose, sprung, and then, with a
+sudden thought, controlled her eagerness, and went quietly to meet him.
+When he had saluted her, and they were seated, she blushingly unrolled a
+piece of manuscript music, and said,
+
+“See here, dear Raymond! I have got something here for you, something
+that you will like, something that you will glory in. I did not know
+until to-day that I could compose music; did not even suspect that I
+could; but to-day my soul has been so full of music, so bursting with
+music, that it has found expression! The hallelujahs of Christopher
+Smart, the very poet of worship, were resounding through my spirit ears;
+I wished to sing them, _had_ to sing them. I came down here, and seating
+myself before the piano, struck the keys, and in a fit of inspiration,
+set them to music—here is the music. I could not do it again; and now
+the music is infinitely inferior to the words. Oh! the words are
+sublime—a splendid pageant—a magnificent march of grand and gorgeous
+imagery, that nothing but an intellect inspired by love, and exalted by
+worship to a power of conception and expression that men call insanity,
+could have produced. They called _him_ mad! and shut him up in the
+narrow cell of a lunatic asylum, debarring him the use of books, pens,
+and ink; but even there the jubilant soul found expression. With a rusty
+nail upon the white-washed walls of his cell, he wrote his glorious
+‘Song of David,’ worthy to be bound up with the psalms of David. It is
+from this song that I have taken out these words that I have set to
+music. Oh! how I wish some great master would set them. Hear my attempt,
+Raymond, and worship with me through the words.”
+
+She went and seated herself at the piano. He followed and stood leaning
+over her chair. She played an inspiring prelude, and then her voice
+broke forth in sudden rapture that filled with volume as it soared,
+until the very atmosphere seemed inspired with life, became sentient and
+vocal, and shuddered with the burden of the grand harmony it bore!
+
+               Glorious the sun in mid-career;
+               Glorious the assembled fires appear;
+                       Glorious the comet’s train:
+               Glorious the trumpet and alarm;
+               Glorious the Almighty’s stretched-out arm;
+                       Glorious the enraptured main:
+
+               Glorious the Northern lights astream;
+               Glorious the song when God’s the theme;
+                       Glorious the thunder’s roar;
+               Glorious hosannas from the den;
+               Glorious the catholic amen;
+                       Glorious the martyr’s gore:
+
+               Glorious, more glorious is the crown
+               Of Him that brought salvation down,
+                       By meekness called thy son;
+               Thou that stupendous truth believed,
+               And now the matchless deed’s achieved,
+                       DETERMINED, DARED, and DONE.
+
+The music shuddering, fell into silence. She remained rapt in ecstasy
+long after the last notes subsided, and until Raymond, laying his hand
+softly on her head, said,
+
+“Hagar! this will not do, love; you excite yourself too much—the action
+is too high—your system is getting to be all blood—fever—fire.”
+
+“Oh! is it not grand, this song? Does any psalm of David transcend it;
+does any hymn of Watts come up to it?”
+
+“It is grand, sublime, stunning—and I do not like to be stunned, you
+know, love! Besides, I am afraid you are not very far from the state and
+fate of its author, wild Hagar! wild in your love, wild in your worship,
+and wild in your devotions, as once in your mad revels. Will you never
+grow tame? Never, I believe unless your heart be broken.”
+
+“And must the poor heart be knocked on the head, before it can behave
+itself to please people? That was the song of boding ever sung to me by
+Sophie and by Emily, when I grew too happy to contain myself. Now, why
+must my heart be broken? What harm has it done that it must be broken?
+The Lord will not break it, I feel sure; nay, if my fellow creatures in
+their error break it, my Father will bind it up again. But now, then,
+dear Raymond, what does it all mean?”
+
+“It means, Hagar, that by a happy exemption from illness, grief, or
+temptation, in fact from all the common miseries of human nature, you
+have grown arrogant in your joy, and hence your jubilant spirit.”
+
+“_Have_ I been so exempted! ‘The heart knoweth its own bitterness;’ but
+I will not recall past human wrongs, in the midst of present Divine
+blessings.”
+
+“Your past wrongs, like your present blessings, are greatly exaggerated
+by imagination, Hagar—but here is supper,” said he, arising and giving
+her his arm, just as the crimson curtains were noiselessly withdrawn
+from the arch, displaying the glittering service awaiting them.
+
+This was the last day of Hagar’s Worship of Joy. The Baptism of
+Grief—the Worship of Sorrow—did she dream that such could be?
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXVIII.
+                                CLOUDS.
+
+       “Life treads on life, and heart on heart,
+       We press too close in church and mart,
+       To keep a dream or grave apart.”
+                                           ELIZABETH B. BARRETT.
+
+
+The next evening when Raymond returned home, he placed in the hands of
+his wife an open letter, addressed to herself in Sophie’s hand-writing.
+A year ago, Hagar would have fiercely resented this cool violation of
+her seal—now her soul was too large and joyous to cavil about her
+personal dignity, or even to think about it at all. Pressing and kissing
+the hand that brought her the letter, she sat down to read it. It was
+short. Our dear Sophie was no scribe. It ran thus:
+
+
+                                         “U.S. STORE SHIP RAINBOW,
+                                                     “October 13th, 18—.
+
+  “DEAREST HAGAR,—We, Augustus and myself, wish you and Raymond much joy
+  of your young daughters. We gladly accept your affectionate invitation
+  to visit you, and shall be with you on the first of November. Not,
+  however, as you kindly insist upon our doing, to remain with you for
+  any length of time. The fact is, that Captain Wilde is ordered to the
+  Mediterranean; and as I have no babies to prevent me, I am going out
+  with him: it is his wish, and _mine_. We cannot take Rosalia with us,
+  because being still ‘afraid of the water,’ she refuses to go. Gusty
+  has been ordered to the same service, and will sail of course at the
+  same time. He will accompany us on our visit to you, as also of course
+  will Rosalia. If you can keep Rosalia, we wish to leave her with
+  you—if not, we shall be compelled to take the dear girl to the South,
+  and place her in charge of her future mother-in-law, Emily Buncombe.
+  In either case, Captain Wilde wishes to be held responsible for her
+  board and all other expenses—as we have resolved to leave her small
+  patrimony untouched, to accumulate at compound interest. Once more
+  accept our heartfelt congratulations, and believe me always
+
+                                                “Your affectionate aunt,
+                                                        “SOPHIE WILDE.”
+
+
+Hagar’s hands, with her letter, dropped upon her lap, and she fell into
+thought.
+
+“You will write by the return mail, and accept the charge of your
+cousin, Hagar?”
+
+“Y-es,” said she, “certainly”—but a shadow fell upon her brow.
+
+He did not observe it, or appear to observe it, and continued, “And
+_when_ you write, Hagar, give them gently to understand that their hint
+concerning the payment of board was a little impertinent, to say the
+_least_, even if it were not, as I hope and wish to believe it _was_
+not, a piece of intentional arrogance on the part of Captain Wilde.”
+
+“I can tell them it was unnecessary. But I am sure no arrogance was
+meant or felt—how could they be arrogant towards _us_! If they spoke to
+us of payment, they made the mistake in the simple, straightforward
+spirit of their hearts, unsuspicious of the chance of giving offence;
+but,” said she, pondering, “I wonder when Rosalia and Gusty are to be
+married. Sophie has not given me the least idea of the time.”
+
+“Rosalia is yet too young, not quite seventeen, I believe; and Gusty not
+yet twenty—_both_ are too young; three years from the time of their
+engagement, that is two years hence, was the period assigned for their
+marriage, was it not?”
+
+“Yes,” said Hagar, still in thought.
+
+“That is, if the young lovers remained in the same mind?”
+
+“Yes,” said Hagar, and then, suddenly, she exclaimed, “You recollect
+these details better than I do; you have a good memory, Raymond.”
+
+“I always plead guilty to the charge, love.”
+
+Hagar fell deeper into thought, then sank into gloom. Was it the natural
+reaction of so much and such great excitement? Was it the rational
+sorrow at the thought of soon parting with Sophie, knowing her to be
+bound for a long and perilous sea voyage? Was it either or all these
+causes combined, that oppressed her heart and darkened her countenance?
+
+Reader, it was none of these things. A dread of the winsome beauty’s
+approach, a dread, not reasonable enough to justify her in opposing the
+measure—a dread for which she blamed herself, yet a dread that she could
+not shake off—a dread that fell dark on her brow, and struck cold to her
+bosom. A deep, up-piercing instinct; will it rise through the stages of
+doubt, suspicion, to jealousy in all its phrensy? The sin sown and
+nurtured by the wrongs of her neglected infancy, her besetting sin and
+sorrow—not dead, but long coiled in serpent-torpor in the bottom of her
+heart now revives, now rears its head.
+
+“Come, love, write your letter now before tea, so that it may go out in
+this evening’s mail,” were the words that aroused her from her
+abstraction, and she arose and left the room to do his bidding.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+Immediately on rising the next morning, Hagar had, as usual, thrown on
+her dressing-gown and gone to the side of the crib to gaze upon her
+sleeping beauties. She bent over them in her morning beauty, with her
+black hair escaping from the little lace _coiffe de nuit_, and dropping
+in shining rings around her—she bent over them breathing her morning
+blessing, when her husband, having completed his toilet, came in and
+sank into an easy chair on the opposite side. He sat there looking at
+her very intently some minutes; at length he said,
+
+“Hagar, you are pale this morning.”
+
+“Am I?”
+
+“Yes, and you lose flesh daily.”
+
+“Do I?”
+
+“Do you not _perceive_ that you do?”
+
+“No, indeed, I never thought of it.”
+
+“No, you never thought of it, mind and body are alike absorbed, entirely
+absorbed by one object—the nursing of your children; flesh and beauty,
+health and life are leaving you unnoted, these children are killing
+you.”
+
+“These! these dear children, Raymond? Oh, do not bring such a charge
+against these sleeping innocents. They give me life and joy, the
+angels!”
+
+“There, love! do not go off into raptures this morning, I do implore
+you. Yes, Hagar, they are killing you; you are very delicate, always
+were, and within the last few weeks you have lost flesh and color very
+rapidly; the nursing of these two children is too great a draught upon
+your strength, it will break down your health.”
+
+“But, dear Raymond, you are mistaken. I am well and strong! thank God!
+_indeed_ I am. It is true that I am thin, I always _was_. I never was
+calm enough to get fat, but I do not think that want of flesh argues
+want of health _always_—in me I _know_ it does not. I have sound,
+unbroken health. I never had an ache or a pain in all my life—oh! except
+once,” she said, laughing and blushing—“nor even a feeling of languor.
+Fatigue after violent and long-continued exercise has only been a slight
+weariness soon agreeably lost in repose. God clothed my spirit in a good
+strong garment, and I have treated it well; though I have worn it every
+day, it is as fresh and new as a Maryland girl’s best Sunday frock.”
+
+“They are killing you, nevertheless, Hagar, I say! Your features are
+growing sharp, your hands,” and he took her delicate hand in his own,
+“your hands are nearly transparent, amberlike, and indeed the knuckles
+are growing prominent—come! Hagar, dear, you are growing ugly as well as
+ill, and, Hagar, it will not do. There is a feverishness in your manner
+also that is not healthful. Your devotion to these children is
+destroying you, and it must be moderated.”
+
+She looked at him with an expression of anxiety striking up through her
+brilliant eyes piercingly. He continued,
+
+“And, Hagar, it must be arrested.”
+
+“How? why? in what manner? in what degree? What _do_ you mean?”
+
+“I mean, love, that you must procure a substitute.”
+
+“A—_substitute_,” repeated she.
+
+“Yes, love, that is to say you must put the children out to nurse.”
+
+“Put them—put my two babies out to nurse—away from me,” faltered the
+young mother, growing very pale.
+
+“Yes, love, it is not an unusual thing among ladies in this section of
+the country—ladies especially of delicate organization as yourself; and
+in this case of _two_ children, Hagar, it is too much for you, and must
+not be thought of. Do not look so distressed, dear, it will be better
+for _you_, and better for them. Mrs. Collins will find some healthy and
+reliable woman who will be willing to take charge of them at a
+reasonable compensation, and who can be required to bring them often to
+see you. She must attend to it to-day. Come, Hagar, do not look so
+dejected; in a day or two you will grow accustomed to it, and be
+contented with knowing that they are well.”
+
+And he arose and was sauntering away. Now all the blood rushed back to
+her face, and starting up she caught his hand and drew him back to the
+side of the crib. Her bosom was heaving and setting, the color flashing
+in and out upon her cheek, but she controlled herself by a great effort,
+as, pointing to the children, she said,
+
+“You do not love babies, Raymond; no, not even your _own_, not even
+these beautiful cherubs; alas! I have not _that_ to learn now! but,
+Raymond, _I_ love them as the tigress loves her young, and as the soul
+loves her angels, and soul from body could be severed with less of pain
+and less of regret than these children from my bosom. Raymond, I know
+your indomitable strength of will; alas! I have not _that_ to learn
+either! I know your persevering inflexibility of purpose, and the power
+of carrying your purpose into effect. I know that when you make a
+proposition, or express a wish, you virtually _give a command_! and one
+you mean to have obeyed. I know all this, and I know, Raymond, your
+power of torturing me, do I not? I know that this hour is opened a
+controversy between us in which _you_ will never yield, never to my
+_opposition_, never to my prayers; never, unless I can awaken your
+parental love. Oh! Raymond, where in your soul slumbers this parental
+love—_sleeps_ your parental love in such a death-like sleep that the
+innocence and beauty of these children cannot awaken it—look at your
+children, Raymond, and withdraw your proposition, your command rather!”
+pleaded Hagar, with clasped hands and straining eyes. “Do not separate
+this beautiful little family, this perfect little family that we four
+form.”
+
+He composedly resumed his seat, looking quietly at her while she spoke;
+when she had ceased, he said,
+
+“Hagar, I make you a proposition, give you what I think a sufficient
+reason, and you answer me with a torrent of sentimental rhapsody; now
+have you said all that you have to say in opposition to my wishes? Come,
+I await your reply.”
+
+“‘Said all I have to say!’ Oh, I could talk a month, a year, until time
+exhausted the subject, if it would convince you.”
+
+“But it will not, as you rightly guess, my love, for now what does it
+all amount to, after all that you may have to say, is said? The question
+simply resolves itself into this: whether you will comply with my
+wishes, or defy the consequences of a non-compliance.”
+
+She dropped her head upon the side of the crib, and remained silent for
+some moments, and then, without raising it, she said,
+
+“Raymond, please tell me _why_, give me some reason for your wish to
+have the children sent away?”
+
+“Your health and beauty are decaying.”
+
+“But they are not!—they are not! You are _utterly_ mistaken. God knows
+that you are!”
+
+“You are feverish and excitable.”
+
+“Not feverish—it is the overflowing exuberance of health and joy!”
+
+“Come, love! contradict me in everything I say, of course. There is one
+thing, however, too harassingly plain to be covered; it is _this_—your
+suite of private apartments is converted into a nursery, of which you
+have constituted yourself chief nurse. I have borne with this for five
+or six weeks, Hagar, and now it is growing insufferable, and I must have
+a change, _will_ have a change, love! So reconcile yourself to the
+temporary loss of these children as well as you can. They are to be sent
+away for _their own_ sakes as well as for yours. _They_ must have a
+stout, hearty nurse, and _you_ must be relieved of their care; you must
+get flesh and beauty again.”
+
+Oh, the immense power of resistance that was rising and throbbing as
+though it would break through Hagar’s chest! Yet she suppressed its
+violent outbreak; she wished now, above all things, to secure her place
+in her husband’s affections; she would have yielded anything on earth to
+his wishes now, except this; nor did she understand his apparent
+indifference to their children.
+
+With a sudden impulse she threw herself in his arms, and amid kisses and
+caresses implored him to spare her the anguish of this trial. Smilingly
+he returned her caresses, smilingly he refused her prayer, and smilingly
+withdrew himself from her clasp, and was sauntering away, leaving her
+pale and trembling, when again she recalled him with a gesture. He
+returned.
+
+“Where are you going now, Raymond?”
+
+“To charge Mrs. Collins with this same business of procuring a
+nursing-place for the children.”
+
+“Do not so misconceive me, Raymond; if I am now pale and weak, it is by
+a foretaste of all I know that I must suffer in opposing your
+wishes—for, Raymond, I _must_ oppose them—I have no choice; none! I
+cannot put these children from my bosom—_can_ not; you must know it.”
+
+“We shall see, love!” said he, with a beautiful, but mocking smile, as
+he left her side.
+
+“Ah, I know your power of torturing me, Raymond—know it too well—but I
+must brace myself to bear it in this instance.”
+
+Half an hour after she met him at breakfast. He wore his usual air of
+elegant ease. He did not resume the conversation of the dressing-room,
+and when he saw that _she_ was about to speak of the subject, he
+arrested her by saying, emphatically,
+
+“Hagar, love, I will not have one word of controversy with you upon
+_this_ or any other subject—I dislike conflict. You either will or will
+not comply with my wishes; without being subjected to any action in the
+matter yourself you will, in the course of the week, have an opportunity
+of submitting to, or rebelling against, my will in this matter.”
+
+And Hagar was silenced. A few days passed, with no perceptible change in
+Raymond’s manner, and the subject was not again mentioned between them.
+Hagar’s secret uneasiness was perpetually betraying itself, and its
+expression continually repressed by the will of Raymond.
+
+At length she grew to hope that this project was abandoned, when one day
+a respectable-looking woman presented herself at the door, inquiring for
+Mrs. Withers. She was shown up into Hagar’s dressing-room. She
+introduced herself as Mrs. Barnes, the person Mr. Withers had engaged to
+take the charge of the twins, if Mrs. Withers should approve her. Hagar
+received the woman with kindness, but told her that she had no intention
+of parting with her children now, or as long as her life and health held
+out. The woman assured her that she possessed, and could produce, the
+highest credentials of respectability, capacity, &c. Hagar assured her
+that her objection was not particular, but general; that she could never
+resign the children to the care of any one; that Mr. Withers’s too great
+care for her health had induced him to mention the plan to her, but that
+she had declined it. Mrs. Barnes seemed difficult to be convinced that
+Hagar’s refusal did not arise from personal objections to herself; but
+at last took a reluctant leave. With her knowledge of his character and
+disposition, Hagar dreaded the return of Raymond that evening. With the
+wish to please him, and to disarm his resentment, she arrayed herself
+charmingly, and had everything prepared agreeably to his tastes and
+wishes, and awaited him in the drawing-room as usual. He came in,
+smiling, with his usual graceful saunter, just as the servants brought
+in the tea; the curtains were up from the arch, so that the two rooms
+were thrown into one. He met her as usual, and they sat down at the
+table apparently with their usual cheerfulness and affection. _He_
+seemed more than usually attentive to her wants. At last she said,
+
+“I have seen the woman you sent me for a nurse.”
+
+“Yes, love, I know it; she has reported to me her rejection.”
+
+This was said in a tone of cheerful content that entirely dissipated
+Hagar’s anxiety; her spirits, rebounding, arose, and she was happy.
+
+The servants were, however, in attendance, and further conversation on
+the subject ceased. Presently they arose from the table and passed into
+the drawing-room.
+
+“Shall I give you some music?” said Hagar, taking up her guitar. “I have
+been practising one of those low, lulling strains that I know you
+like—shall I give it you?” and she sank into a velvet chair and began to
+tune the instrument.
+
+“You shall give me nothing—not a song, not a caress, not a word, when we
+are alone, until you give me your _will_. If I have condescended to
+answer your questions at table, it was to prevent servants from
+talking.”
+
+He was standing before her in his dazzling beauty, looking down upon her
+with an audacious assertion of invincible power of attraction and
+torture striking up through the brilliant softness of his eyes, hovering
+around the beautiful curves of his lips, and irradiating his whole
+countenance. Hagar turned away, veiling her eyes with her jewelled
+fingers, while she rested her head upon her hand. When she looked up
+again he was gone. He did not reappear that evening. It was the first
+evening they had spent apart. Unwilling to give him any new cause of
+offence she had remained in the drawing-room until their usual hour for
+retiring, when she at length sought her own chamber. He came up after a
+while with his usual gay and graceful nonchalance of manner, but without
+noticing her by word or look until she spoke to him; then he turned and
+flashed upon her a smile, beautiful even in its taunting scorn, that
+called the indignant blood in flames to her cheeks and brow, and she
+became silent. Thus days passed. He knew how to torture her. At table—at
+the time the embargo was taken off their conversation—ostensibly to
+deceive the servants, really to afford him an opportunity of tantalizing
+her by the fascination, he assumed his usual manner of affection. Thus
+weeks passed, until the time approached for the arrival of their
+visitors. One evening he came home and threw a letter in her lap; it was
+directed in the hand-writing of Sophie. _This_ seal was _not_ broken;
+she almost wished it had been; she opened it. It contained but a few
+lines from Sophie, informing her that their party would be at The Rialto
+the next morning. She held her letter out to her husband, but he, with a
+taunting smile and graceful gesture of the hand, declined her
+confidence. A sickening faintness came over her. An unwillingness, nay,
+a strong and growing repugnance to the idea of meeting any of her
+friends—for whom, indeed, she had never possessed any very strong
+affection—just at the time she was suffering mortal anguish by this
+estrangement from her husband—a dread of the approach of the fair and
+gentle girl—her rival from infancy—a fearful presentiment of falling
+still lower in his esteem by the side of the loving and love-winning
+Rosalia, these causes all conspired to tempt, to overpower her; she
+arose, and falling upon his shoulder, with her hair dropping all over
+him, with a bursting sob, exclaimed,
+
+“Raymond! oh, _do_ make up with me! I suffer _so_ much! _so_ much from
+the loss of your love! If I could _weep_ and expend a portion of my
+grief—if I could _swoon_ and lose consciousness of it—_sleep_ and forget
+it—_die_ and leave it—_go mad_ and defy it—I should suffer less! I can
+do _neither_—since I am not soft and weak! I am strong and hard—and the
+strong live through and suffer tortures that the weak would _die_ under,
+and so escape! Yet the weak have all the sympathy, while the sufferings
+of the strong are not credited because not manifested. Raymond! oh, make
+up with me. I shall—not _die_—but suffer more than death if you do not!
+I am exiled—take me home to your bosom—to my home in your bosom again,
+Raymond!”
+
+He supported her on his arm, and smiled down a flash of triumphant love
+into her face, lighting a smile in _her_ countenance, too! She raised
+her hand, passing it gently around his neck to the back of his golden
+head, and drew his face down to meet hers; but with a quick and graceful
+toss, waving all his curls, he released his head, and smilingly
+inquired,
+
+“And so you lay down your arms, and strike your colors, my beautiful
+rebel? You subscribe to all required articles in my treaty of peace? In
+a word, you will place confidence in my ability to take care of you, and
+follow my advice in the management of our children?”
+
+She did not reply. The smile faded from her countenance. He continued,
+
+“You will place our children where they can receive better care than you
+can possibly bestow upon them.”
+
+She opened her mouth to speak—he arrested her purpose by placing his
+hand softly and smilingly on her lips, as he whispered,
+
+“Stop!—no more arguments—no more controversy—no more talk about health,
+strength, and ability—about maternal love and duty—_not one word_,
+dearest! I did not bring you here, my beauty, for debate and opposition,
+but for harmony, love, and joy. So, in one word, Hagar, do you yield or
+maintain your opposition?—yes, or no.”
+
+“I cannot! cannot!” groaned Hagar.
+
+He raised his arm, slowly stretching it out from the shoulder, while he
+turned away his head, and gently, but firmly and steadily repulsed her,
+pushing her quite away, saying, calmly, as she sank upon the sofa—
+
+“Any overtures for a reconciliation, Hagar, must in future be prefaced
+by the unconditional surrender of this point.” And he leisurely
+sauntered from the room. Not one word was exchanged between them, from
+that moment until the next morning at the breakfast-table, when he
+said—“If you are not going to use the carriage, Hagar, I will send it to
+meet your relatives—it is nearly time for the morning boat to pass.”
+
+“I do not want it,” said Hagar, and the brief conversation dropped.
+
+He soon after left the house, merely mentioning as he went out, that he
+should be home to dinner at four. In half an hour from this the carriage
+was dispatched to the steamboat landing—at the same time that Hagar went
+into her room attended by Mrs. Collins, to dress her twins for
+exhibition to her expected relatives.
+
+Following the bent of her delicate poetic fancy she would never dress
+them in anything but white, of the finest and softest material—nor ever
+place about them coral, amber, or gold, or any hard or heavy substance;
+and when she had dressed them, very lovely they looked with their little
+black, silky heads, and small features full of soft repose, as she laid
+them to sleep in the crib, so that they might wake up bright and
+beautiful when Sophie should arrive. But a deep-drawn sigh chased the
+smile from the young mother’s face, as she looked upon her treasures,
+writhing in the thought that the duties of the wife and mother should
+ever be supposed to conflict—that the happiness of the wife and mother
+should ever be placed in opposition.
+
+Then Hagar arranged her own dress, and sighed again to observe by her
+mirror how haggard she was looking—knowing this to be the effect not of
+her maternal devotion, as Raymond insisted, but of wasting anxiety
+caused by his tantalizing alternate affection and coldness—by her nights
+without sleep, and days without appetite, and consequently without
+nourishment. She had even to gather away from her face her beautiful
+ringlets; their falling, long and black, each side of her pale thin
+face, increased its pallor by contrast, while they gave it a hatchetlike
+sharpness. She had just completed her unsatisfactory toilet, when the
+roll of carriage wheels on the gravel walk leading to the house, the
+ring of the street-door bell, and soon the hushed sound of several
+softly mingling voices in the hall, announced to her the arrival of her
+guests. She hurried down to receive them. To receive them! They received
+_her_ in their full affection rather! for soon as gliding down the broad
+staircase, she saw the group advancing in the amber-hued light of the
+hall, she felt herself caught to the soft bosom of Sophie, while the
+arms of Rosalia were folded around her.
+
+“Run here, uncle! give us your hands,” exclaimed Gusty May, holding out
+both his hands to Captain Wilde, who caught them, and they laughingly
+formed a ring round the three women, clasping them all together in a
+close embrace. Sophie smilingly loosened the knot, dispersing the group;
+and Hagar giving her hand to Captain Wilde, and then to Gusty, opened
+the drawing-room door, showing them in—begging them to excuse her
+absence and amuse themselves, while she showed Sophie and Rosalia to
+their rooms. Then as she turned to attend them, Rose’s arms were around
+her again, and she said as they went up stairs,
+
+“And so you have two babies, Hagar! dear Hagar! Show them to us quickly.
+I do want to see them so much. I shall love them so dearly. I have done
+nothing but embroider caps and frocks for them since you wrote to us
+about them; so glad I was to have two dear, dear baby-cousins to sew
+for. Now I have come to be your nursery maid, Hagar, dear Hagar; not a
+useless parlor-figure, but your little nursery maid.” So warbled the
+affectionate girl in her bird-like tones, while Hagar, won by her loving
+enthusiasm, turned and caressed her.
+
+I said the house on each floor was divided by a broad central hall. The
+rooms on the right hand, first floor, were those of Hagar and Raymond,
+those on the left hand had been fitted up for the reception of their
+visitors. Hagar conducted them into their apartments; and when they had
+laid off their bonnets, brought them into her own room, to see the
+children. Their little nap was over, and the babies had waked up fresh
+and bright. Rose raised one, softly, tenderly, as though she were afraid
+of its falling to pieces even in her gentle hands; and Sophie took up
+the other. Rosalia went into her gentle love ecstasies over them, and
+even our serene Sophie was enthusiastic in her admiration of the
+children’s remarkable beauty.
+
+“But I should never be able to know the one little black-haired darling
+from the other,” said Sophie.
+
+And so said Rosalia.
+
+“Put your finger on the cheek of Agnes—now upon the cheek of Agatha;
+don’t you perceive that Agnes has firmer muscle, and, therefore, I think
+a stronger constitution than her sister.”
+
+“I am not sure that I can detect the difference,” said Sophie.
+
+Rosalia declared that _she_ could, and that she should never make a
+mistake between the babies.
+
+Raymond returned at four in the afternoon. He met his relatives with his
+habitual air of graceful gaiety. The evening passed in social festivity
+and cheerfulness. Captain Wilde and Mr. Withers were, or seemed very
+gay. Sophie and Rosalia serenely joyous. Gusty, boisterous. Hagar’s
+manner was restless and gloomy. Sophie at last perceived this, and lost
+her own cheerfulness; and soon after, as they were grouped around a
+table, examining some fine prints, Hagar felt her arm grasped tightly
+from behind, and Raymond’s voice in her ear, muttering low and quickly,
+
+“You are making your well merited wretchedness apparent to Sophie—be
+more natural; for as God in Heaven hears me, if by word, look, or
+gesture you reveal your miseries, making me a subject of speculation to
+these people—you shall suffer for it in every nerve of your body to the
+last day of your life,” and he let go her arm.
+
+Her cheek flushed, and her eye brightened with pleasure,—yes, with
+_pleasure_. To hear him break the death-like silence that even amidst
+general conversation reigned in her heart—to hear him speak to her
+alone, close to her ear, even _harsh_ words, seemed like a renewal of
+their confidential relations—seemed the more so because they _were_
+harsh words, because they expressed a command at last with which she
+could comply—conveyed a threat which implied a position, a right not yet
+abandoned; it was more _husband_-like, and she nestled closer under his
+shoulder, and taking the hand, the very hand that had grasped her arm,
+she stole it behind her, around her waist, as she whispered,
+
+“Dearest Raymond, how could you think that I would willingly betray
+uneasiness—have I been gloomy? I will be so no longer—you shall see—dear
+Raymond, smile on me—say _one_ gentle word to me; my heart has been
+starving—even the bitter bread was welcome—give me a sweet word,
+Raymond!”
+
+“Don’t be ridiculous,” were the sweet words granted to her prayer, as he
+withdrew his arm, and turned gaily to make a remark about a picture to
+Rosalia, fascinating the gentle girl’s attention by his brilliant smiles
+and glances. Hagar observed this, and her evil in ambush, her strong
+waylaying foe, began to give her trouble; nevertheless she struggled
+against its manifestation, and strove to assume cheerfulness, feeling
+that now was not the time to alienate him by offence. Her manner
+changed—flashing fitful lightnings of forced mirth across the dark gloom
+of her prevailing mood. Hagar was no actress—_this_ was worse than
+before! and soon she caught the eyes of Raymond fixed upon her—a dire
+menace striking out through their softness, and perceiving her failure,
+she grew alternately more gloomy and excited as the evening advanced—so
+that every one, even the simple-hearted Rosalia, noticed it, and turning
+her dove eyes on Raymond to read the explanation on his face, saw there
+the calmness of his superb brow, and set him down as the blameless and
+injured party.
+
+The family party broke up at an early hour. The ladies left the room
+first, and Hagar, accompanied by Sophie, attended Rosalia to the chamber
+appropriated to her use, and after seeing the timid girl in bed, and
+promising that the housemaid should sleep on a pallet in the room with
+her, because she was afraid “to stay in the dark alone,” they passed out
+into the next room, the front room, which was Sophie’s chamber. Hagar
+setting the candle upon the dressing-table, was about to bid her good
+night, when Sophie, taking her hand, detained her, looked earnestly,
+steadily, in her haggard face, and passing her arm around her waist,
+drew her up in a close but sad embrace, and said,
+
+“Hagar, my poor girl, what is the matter; are you ill in body or mind,
+or both?”
+
+“I am well,” said Hagar, withdrawing herself from her arms.
+
+“Yet I never saw you look so wretchedly, act so strangely in my life;
+what is the cause? _Do_ tell me, and let me see if I can aid you by
+sympathy or advice.”
+
+“You can do me no good,” said Hagar, pausing in perplexity a moment, as
+Sophie still held her hand and gazed pleadingly in her anguished
+countenance, “and Sophie, do not, if you please, take any further notice
+of my looks; is it not natural, by the way, that I should look rather
+thin after my illness, and with the care of two infants?” and coldly
+returning Sophie’s embrace, she bade her good night and left the room.
+Several days passed in this manner.
+
+The next Sabbath the family all went to church—all except Sophie, who
+stopped at home with the headache, Hagar, who stayed to keep her
+company, and Raymond, who remained for some purpose of his own. They
+were sitting in Hagar’s dressing-room, grouped near one of the front
+windows. The babies were awake; Sophie held Agnes, and Hagar kept the
+other, Agatha, whom she fancied to be the more delicate, on her lap.
+Hagar was looking very attentively at her child. It seemed to her that
+for days the children, especially this little one, had been declining in
+flesh; she was beginning to believe that the disturbance of her own
+health was reacting upon the children, and so maternal anxiety was added
+to her other causes of uneasiness.
+
+At this moment, Raymond entered the room, and throwing himself into an
+easy chair, inquired after Sophie’s headache, and then looking at Hagar,
+who, sitting in the cross-light, looked ten degrees thinner and
+ghastlier than ever, he said—
+
+“Sophie, will you look at your niece, and then at her children, and will
+you inform her of the fate to which she is dooming _them_, to say
+nothing of herself, by her obstinacy?”
+
+Sophie’s large eyes started, dilated, and turned in apprehension from
+Raymond to Hagar, from Hagar to the children, and she remained silent
+from perplexity. Then Raymond put her calmly in possession of the
+disputed point between himself and Hagar—keeping Hagar silent,
+meanwhile, by an occasional menace piercing through his gentle eyes; at
+ending, he said—
+
+“Now, ever since you have been here, Sophie, do you not perceive that
+all three have declined in health?”
+
+“Yes,” said Sophie, “that is too palpable to be denied.”
+
+Then turning to Hagar, she said,
+
+“Your health, and consequently your children’s health, is suffering, my
+dear Hagar.”
+
+“It is from _anxiety_,” began Hagar, when, meeting her husband’s eye,
+and recollecting herself, she ceased.
+
+“From _whatever_ cause, dear Hagar,” said he, “your health _is_ sinking,
+and you will have at length to succumb to circumstances.”
+
+A message now summoned Raymond from the room, and the two ladies were
+left alone.
+
+“Yes, dear Hagar, for the children’s sake you will have to give them
+up.”
+
+All mothers love their children, of course; Hagar’s love for her babies
+was fired with all the natural fierceness of her temperament; she would
+as soon have died as have had them severed from her. She answered,
+
+“You do not know what you are talking about, Sophie; if you were a
+mother, you would know that between my heart and these children is an
+invisible cord, and the nearer I am to them, the more natural and
+comfortable it feels; the further I am off from them, the tighter and
+more painful becomes the tension. It is uneasiness one room off—anxiety
+one flight of stairs off—I know it would be agony one street off. In
+short, I cannot bear to be severed from them.”
+
+“You need not be severed from them; get a nurse in the house.”
+
+“But Raymond does not like that idea; he does not want the fuss of a
+nurse in the house; he wishes me to put them out.”
+
+“Then Raymond is cruel and unnatural, and his plan is not to be thought
+of for a moment,” said Sophie; then she suddenly stopped, as though she
+regretted her hasty speech—a speech that Hagar immediately and
+indignantly took up, however.
+
+“Sophie, it is not like you to be so very unjust and harsh. Raymond is
+_not_ cruel!—could not _become_ so, and you know it! If he does not love
+these children very tenderly yet, why he _will_ love them, when they are
+old enough to notice and respond to his love; _besides_, I never _did_
+see a man who cared much about very _young_ children, as we do. No! you
+must do him justice, Sophie; Raymond has very delicate and sensitive
+nerves; he cannot bear roughness, discord, or any other jar of the
+nerves that more obtuse senses could brave. He is not like _me_, who
+have nerves and sinews strung for endurance rather than for enjoyment.
+He is an _epicurean_ by constitution and temperament, and I do not know
+that there is any vice in that!”
+
+“No? Do you not think that when the indulgence and cultivation of these
+delicate and luxurious habits are made the study and object of life, to
+the neglect, and perchance to the positive violation of high duties,
+that it _is_ vice, and _may be_ crime; already you see it has made him
+forget not only his children’s welfare, but _your_ happiness.”
+
+“It has _not_!” replied Hagar, indignantly; “how often must I tell you,
+Sophie, that he does not see how much he makes me suffer—at least that
+he cannot see a just reason for my suffering, because he is utterly
+blind in this—how _can_ he be expected to sympathize in a feeling in
+which he does not as yet participate? You must excuse my warmth, Sophie,
+when you exasperate me!”
+
+Sophie smilingly caressed her, as she replied,
+
+“Forgive! I sympathize with your warm partizanship, dear Hagar; besides,
+to put you in a good humor, I will say, I fully believe that half
+smothered in this down of effeminacy is a spirit of goodness that will
+never be wholly quenched, if _you_ knew how to get at it. Now _I_ can,
+always could, elicit this good spirit. You shall see.”
+
+Hagar did not altogether like Sophie’s insinuation of possessing the
+ability to manage her husband; it seemed to impair the _prestige_ of
+dignity by which her love had surrounded him; nevertheless she permitted
+her to leave the room, Sophie saying as she left,
+
+“I am his mamma, you know, Hagar! I have a right to interfere,
+especially since he has honored me with his confidence this morning;
+besides, he loves me dearly, and always did, ever since he knew me, and
+always will as long as we both live.”
+
+This was true; from the first moment of their acquaintance, Sophie, by
+her serene temperament, disinterested affections, and quiet wisdom, had
+gained, not an ascendency over his mind exactly, but a modified
+influence in his heart. She sought him out, and going to work in her
+calm, matronly manner, arranged the difficulty.
+
+The room occupied just now by herself and Captain Wilde was, after their
+departure, to be converted into a nursery, both upon account of its
+separation by the wide, central hall, from the apartments of Hagar and
+Raymond, and from its communication with the chamber of Rosalia, whose
+fear of sleeping alone, and whose love for the near neighborhood of the
+children and their nurse, combined to make the arrangement agreeable to
+her, as well as to others.
+
+The visitors remained a week after this. Gusty May had kept so close to
+his little lady love, in view of the impending separation, as to give
+others very little opportunity of cultivating her friendship. And as
+Rosalia was strongly attracted to the babies, and as Gusty was as
+strongly attracted to Rosalia, much of their time was passed in Hagar’s
+dressing-room.
+
+You should have seen them there in their innocent affection and
+familiarity, blending childlike frolic with droll, old-fashioned
+solicitude in their care of Hagar’s children. There Gusty would sit with
+Agnes across his knees, and a silk handkerchief spread over his arm, for
+fear the rougher broadcloth would irritate her cheek, chirruping to the
+infant, and calling himself “its Uncle Gusty;” and there Rosalia, with
+Agatha, whom she always would hold on her _own_ lap, because she
+persisted that this babe was the more delicate—yes! you _should_ have
+seen _her_, with her beautiful Virgin Mary face, brooding over the babe.
+
+And Gusty again! what an old granny he _did_ make of himself! feeling
+the baby’s fingers and toes, to see if they were warm enough, or cool
+enough, &c., &c., &c. One day Gusty’s heart was filling with a jest that
+was bubbling up to the corners of his mouth and eye, and leaking out of
+every crevice of his countenance. Agnes had gone to sleep in his arms—at
+last as he laid her in the crib, and while he was covering her up, his
+joke overflowed as he looked at the serene little madonna before him.
+
+“Don’t you wish these were _our_ babies, Rose?”
+
+“Yes, I do _so_ wish they were our babies—God love them! they are so
+sweet,” said Rosalia, raising her large eyes to his and looking him
+straight through the head, with her vague azure gaze!
+
+Up sprang Gusty stamping and dancing about the floor and swearing—no,
+exclaiming,
+
+“You are a baby yourself! a _snow_ baby you are! or, a fool! or both!
+why don’t you get mad? why don’t you box my ears? will _nothing_ arouse
+you? do you know I have been saying something very impudent to you?”
+
+“Have you?”
+
+“Oh! you go to Guinea! ‘_have you_.’ Yes, I have! _You_ don’t love me,
+Rose—no, not a bit!”
+
+“Yes, I do, Gusty; don’t wake the babies!”
+
+“YOU DON’T,” thundered Gusty, “and I wouldn’t have you to save your
+life.” Then he came and fell into a chair, and looking at her
+wrathfully, said, “See here, Rose; I won’t have you! I’ll court the
+first pretty girl I come across. Why don’t you answer me? what do you
+say to that? I say I’ll court the first pretty girl I come across!”
+
+“Will you?” said Rose, vaguely.
+
+“Yes, I will! and I’ll _marry_ her!”
+
+“Will you?”
+
+“_Yes_, I will; and I know several pretty girls—you need not think I
+don’t! sweet girls! that would give their eyes for me! And one lives at
+Havana, and one at Rio, and one at Genoa, and one at Havre, and one at
+Marseilles, and one at Mahon, and one at Gibraltar, and one at
+Constantinople, besides several others! Come! Now! What do you think of
+that?”
+
+“It is very natural they should all love you, Gusty, I am sure.”
+
+“Humph! is it? Well, I am going to court and marry one of them before I
+come home! What do you think of _that_?”
+
+“I think that will be very nice.”
+
+“And you’ll have no objection?”
+
+“Why no, dear Gusty, how should I?”
+
+“And you’d be very well contented?”
+
+“Yes, dear Gusty, if you were happy; I should be _so_ contented; and if
+you would move over to this country and come to see us very often—for,
+Gusty, I should weep if you should go away to live for ever!”
+
+Up jumped Gusty again—
+
+“Oh! my God! this—this—this—_creature_ will be the death of me!” then
+suddenly he dropped down upon the carpet by her side, dropped his face
+in her lap, spread up his arms over her shoulders, and sobbed, “oh!
+Rosalia—darling rose! I would not marry a _princess_ while you remained
+on earth! my pure angel! Oh, Rose, love me! love me! _please_ love me!”
+
+“I _do_ love you, Gusty—as hard as ever I can!”
+
+“You don’t—_don’t_—DON’T! you little fool, you don’t love me a bit
+better than you love old Cumbo!”
+
+“Poor old Cumbo!”
+
+“Ah, ha! there it is; you say that in the same key with which you would
+say ‘Poor young Gusty!’ if a cannon ball should carry off my head next
+month! Love me! no, that you don’t! Oh, Lord! oh, dear!” groaned Gusty,
+getting up and sinking into a chair, “oh, Lord! oh, dear!”
+
+“Are you sick, Gusty?”
+
+“Yes, I am!”
+
+“Whereabouts, dear Gusty? shall I get you anything?”
+
+“Sick at heart.”
+
+“Oh, the heart-burn!”
+
+“You shut up!” snapped Gusty, so loud as to wake both the babies, that
+immediately set up a squall of alarm.
+
+Hagar came in, broke up the conversation, and quieted the children.
+Hagar was recovering her good looks, she was fully reconciled with her
+husband. So full, so complete was their reconciliation,—so happy was she
+in their renewed love, that her latent jealousy withdrew itself out of
+sight, away down in the deep caves of her spirit, until she nearly lost
+consciousness of its existence. Sophie had informed her that the
+marriage of Gusty and Rosalia would take place immediately after his
+return, and that circumstance gave her pleasure. And the last ashes were
+thrown upon the smouldering fire of her jealousy, by her observation of
+the full and free manifestations of mutual admiration and affection
+between Captain Wilde and Rosalia, and the loving sympathy of Sophie
+with both. Hagar would now have made a strenuous effort to cast out the
+devil from her soul, but that the wily demon withdrew itself into the
+deeps, until a more convenient season.
+
+The period of their visit drew to a close. Gusty and Rosalia had a long
+parting talk the evening previous to their separation, and the usual
+amount of vows of eternal fidelity were exchanged. The next day, Sophie,
+Captain Wilde and Gusty took leave of their friends, embarked on board
+the steamboat, and in a few hours arrived at New York. In a week from
+their arrival at that city they sailed from its harbor for a cruise on
+the Mediterranean. The routine of the Rialto was resumed. The nursery
+was established upon the plan arranged by Sophie, and a woman engaged to
+take sole charge of the children. Rosalia wept a week for the loss of
+her friends, and then installed herself a self-constituted nursery
+governess in her chamber next the children. Everything went smoothly,
+harmoniously; Hagar’s serenity was restored—Rosalia’s tears
+dried—Raymond’s gaiety returned now, and everything “upon velvet.”
+
+Reader, do but look at this family; the members of which were beautiful
+in their kind as the hand of God pleased to make them, each one, from
+the youthful father to the children. Raymond, with his elegant form,
+charming face, and graceful and fascinating manners, Hagar, with her
+brilliant beauty and wit, and Rosalia, with her tenderness, formed a
+group an artist or an angel would have loved to contemplate. Alas! that
+the angel sentinels could not prevent the passage of the evil spirit to
+their Eden! Satan, wishing to enter Paradise, took the form of a
+“stripling cherub,” and so deceived Uriel, the Archangel himself;
+deceived “Uriel, one of the seven,” that stood before the throne of God.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXIX.
+                               JEALOUSY.
+
+       “Foul jealousy! thou turnest love divine
+         To joyless dread, and mak’st the loving heart
+       With hateful thoughts to languish and to pine,
+         And feed itself with self consuming smart:
+         Of all the passions of the soul thou vilest art.
+                                           SPENSER’S FAIRY QUEEN.
+
+
+From a strong reluctance to take you into the deep caves of the soul,
+where evil is forged, I have paused with my pen for hours. One can
+scarcely descend into the deep hell of passion and guilt without
+becoming saturated with the brimstone, scorched in the flames. As we
+enter the mystery of iniquity let us invoke the angels to guard us.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+There is no meaner passion than jealousy. Exclusive, concentrated,
+intense love does not always and necessarily include jealousy, and
+very ill does that base emotion accord with the high spirit, dashing
+pride—the pride of strength that distinguished Hagar. Yet, reader,
+have you never seen a fine man or woman with one physical deformity,
+infirmity? and have you never been told that such a blemish on God’s
+perfect work was the effect of injury sustained in infancy. I have
+seen a man—a Hercules in strength, an Apollo in beauty and
+grace—_crippled_—from an injury sustained in infancy through the
+thoughtlessness of parents. I have seen a woman beautiful as Venus,
+graceful as Euphrosyne—_blind_—from an injury sustained in infancy
+through the carelessness of nurses. How ill the shrunk and halting
+limb accorded with the handsome and manly figure! how ill the
+extinguished eye harmonized with the beautiful face! These misfortunes
+were not the faults of the sufferers, yet the effects of these wounds
+were felt through life, their scars were carried to the grave.
+
+And, reader, there are mental and moral deformities, infirmities—_the
+effects of injuries sustained in infancy!_ more baleful than any
+physical calamity can be, for they are the cause not only of much sorrow
+and suffering—as physical ills _may_ be—but of much _sin_, as moral and
+mental wounds and scars _must_ be, whose fatal influence pursues through
+life unto death and beyond the grave. Thus a spark of jealousy is
+dropped into an infant’s heart, it smoulders through long years, and
+finally bursts out into a destructive flame in the woman’s bosom.
+
+A little, dark, wild, shy child, whose peculiar organization demanded
+that her shyness should be conquered by kindness, her wildness tamed by
+gentleness, her self-distrust reassured by confidence, is disparaged and
+neglected, while her more beautiful companion and playmate, whose
+extreme tenderness and sensibility required the bracing process of a
+sterner training, is flattered and caressed; until wounded by the loss
+of love, the slighted child grows doubtful of herself, distrustful of
+others, and jealous of her more attractive rival, hard, proud and
+defiant to all she did _not_ love, suspicious and exacting towards the
+only one she adored; and the favored child, enervated by indulgence,
+grows more and more dependent on the love of those about her, more and
+more incapable of resisting any temptation that appeals to her through
+her affections; and these evils have grown with the growth, and
+strengthened with the strength of the children, of the girls, of the
+women. Alas! who can see the end of the interminable evil resulting from
+one small mistake in education; and from what wanton carelessness, even
+in well meaning parents and teachers, these mistakes are made; and
+sometimes how intentionally and in what good faith they are committed!
+Heaven knows there would seem to be enough to do to eradicate
+_hereditary_ evil, the roots of sin indigenous in the hearts of
+children, without laboring to sow there the seeds of errors foreign to
+the soil. The low vice of jealousy was foreign to the high temperament
+of our Hagar; yet how it had been planted, sunk, trodden deep, and
+stamped into the bottom of her heart. The mean sins of indolence,
+selfishness, and vanity were not native to the pure soil of our
+Rosalia’s bosom, yet how sedulously they had been cultivated there!
+
+Rosalia, the petted favorite, whose soft nature, while it pleaded for
+indulgence, really needed the hardening process of a strict
+training—Rosalia, still further enfeebled by fondness, has grown softer
+and weaker year by year; softer and weaker, until from very tenderness
+she is rendered incapable of resisting the solicitations of any evil
+that may tempt her through her sympathies. Rosalia has grown up gentle,
+tender, lovely, but vain, infirm, and unprincipled. Hagar, whose wild
+and shy temper needed to be wooed and won, and ameliorated by
+tenderness—Hagar still further repulsed, hardened, and alienated by
+neglect, harshness, and caprice—Hagar is still high spirited and
+faithful, but inclined to entertain envy, suspicion, and jealousy; foul
+blots on a fine character.
+
+Her jealousy of Rosalia was especially natural, and logical—I had nearly
+said inevitable—not only from the fascinating beauty of her rival from
+infancy up to womanhood, but from the very character of her ONE
+affection.
+
+Rosalia, then, the beauty, the pet, and the rival, is domesticated with
+Hagar, the jealous and the slighted girl—and with Raymond, the poetic
+and the artistic epicurean—Rosalia equally fascinating in her extreme
+beauty, in her artless grace, and in the affectionate tenderness of her
+manner and her tone, soon won the warm friendship of Raymond Withers as
+she had won the affection of every man, woman, child, and beast, that
+fell in her way. She would have been a delightful addition to the circle
+at the Rialto, a delightful fireside companion in the autumn evenings,
+could Hagar have rid herself of the vulture of jealousy gnawing in the
+bottom of her heart. Yet do not mistake Hagar, do not think more meanly
+of her than she deserves—she was not _generally_, but only
+_particularly_ envious of Rosalia; thus, had they both been in general
+society together, Hagar could have sympathized with, could have rejoiced
+in the highest success of her lifelong rival, could have been contented
+to be obscured by, to be lost under the glory of Rosalia’s charms and
+conquests; but here in her own domestic circle, here where she had
+“garnered up her heart,” she could brook no intrusion, no partnership,
+no rival; and as in this boundless universe, there _was_ but ONE, there
+ever _had been_ but ONE whom her whole soul worshipped—GOD—so on this
+wide earth there was but _one_, there had been but _one_ whom her whole
+heart adored—her _husband_. This was Hagar’s religion and her love. In
+almost every respect she was as opposite to Rosalia in mind and heart as
+she was in person and appearance. Rosalia, with a generous benevolence,
+radiating from her heart as the beams from the sun, knew no exclusive
+affection, was “innocent of the knowledge” of any particular love.
+Hagar’s soul, nearly destitute of general benevolence, was absorbed in
+one intense passion. Had a city been swallowed by an earthquake,
+overflowed by the boiling lava thrown from the crater of a burning
+volcano, carried away by an inundation of the sea, or reduced to ashes
+by a general conflagration; had a nation been exterminated by war,
+pestilence, or famine, the news would have impressed Hagar very
+slightly. _But!_ had the lightest sabre cut but marked the fair and
+regal brow of her loved one, her very heart would have dropped blood.
+Yet much as she desired his _happiness_, much she desired his
+_affections_ more! she could have borne his _death_ better than the
+_loss of his love_! she wished to be all in all to the man who was
+everything to her. Her jealousy was morbid as her love was extravagant.
+For her, his broad and high white forehead, in its superb amplitude and
+repose, expressed more majesty than the wild expanse of heaven
+itself—for her, his soft and deep blue eyes revealed more spiritual life
+than the purest dreams of her own soul—for her every expression of the
+face, every gesture of the figure, every tone of the voice revealed more
+poetry, religion, love, than the whole universe besides. Often when he
+would be writing or reading, or in any other manner occupied so as to
+prevent conversation, she would sit upon the corner of the sofa, and
+veiling the splendid fire of her eyes under their long lashes, gaze upon
+his form or face, watching its varying expression with all the
+enthusiasm of an artist, with all the inspiration of a poet, with all
+the adoration of a devotee, with all the love of a woman, a silent and
+unnoticed but enraptured worshipper! At such times, carried away, she
+would not think of herself at all—at other times a painful feeling or
+fancy of self-deficiency would torture her. All who love, who worship,
+think more or less humbly of themselves—this feeling is often morbid in
+excess or irrationality, and often itself engenders jealousy. In Hagar
+this was natural—she was not in her own estimation a tithe so handsome
+or _accomplished_ as Raymond, and in the same proportion that she adored
+his perfections she depreciated her own attractions. For him she desired
+to possess all the gifts of beauty and genius, that she might meet and
+supply the wants of his being at every avenue, that she might be the
+whole world to him, as he undoubtedly was the whole universe to her. To
+her every face looked mean, expressionless, or sensual, compared to his
+glorious countenance, in which every passion, malign or benign, became
+godlike! to her every tone was harsh and rough, or flat and dull,
+compared to his love-tuned voice—he was her music, her poetry, her love,
+her religion, her life, soul, and final destiny—her spirit sought unison
+with his spirit, ardently, impetuously; she knew in heaven, their
+redeemed souls would blend in one—in heaven they would be—_one angel_.
+Call this morbid, call this extravagant, reader, yet acknowledge that it
+was no _sudden_ passion, that this intense love of one ardent soul had
+been growing from the moment that the beautiful youth had lifted the
+little ugly infant to his knee, and thenceforth become her adoration,
+her idol, her dream of heaven. This passion had increased with years,
+every circumstance had only served to augment it, association and
+absence, meeting and parting, until their marriage, and then all the
+requirements of his regal will, all the sacrifices of her own wishes,
+all the struggles of her independence before it was subdued, all the
+death throes of her mighty pride before it was annihilated, served but
+to draw tighter, to rivet faster the chains that bound her heart to
+_his_; her separate soul, will, individuality of which she had boasted
+in her haughtiness, fled to him, cleaved to him, seemed blissfully,
+divinely lost in him—in heaven they would be one angel, that was her
+love, hope, faith, religion, her conception of heaven. Call it insanity,
+reader! many minds that pass for sane have in a greater or a less degree
+their insanity, in other words their master passion, or their besetting
+sin, or both in one.
+
+Her conjugal love was her master passion—jealousy her besetting sin—and
+her jealousy was morbid as her love was extravagant. In losing her very
+soul in his heart, she wished to FILL that heart to the exclusion of
+every other object. I repeat it here, she wished to be everything to the
+being who was everything to her—she wished for matchless beauty,
+peerless genius, not that she might be generally admired, but that she
+might meet and supply every demand of his soul. But now! but now! here
+was one more richly and rarely endowed by nature with the power of
+pleasing than herself, one who charmed all the world, and who must, she
+fancied, charm _her_ world, her universe away from her life. She wished
+to be—oh! _not_ from vanity, but from love to please _his_ poet-mind—she
+wished to be the fairest in her husband’s sight—but here was one fairer,
+oh, how much fairer than herself—she wished to be the most graceful, yet
+here was one whose every movement was the very “poetry of motion”—she
+wished that _her_ voice in household cadences, or in song, might fall
+the sweetest on his ears; yet here was one, whose artless tones were
+melodious as the fall of waters or the notes of birds.
+
+Their evenings!
+
+Rosalia would sit at the piano singing the low, sweet melodies he loved,
+while he stood at the back of her chair, turning over the music, bending
+above her, smiling benignly on her, forgetful of everything but of her
+and her song, sometimes joining his voice to hers—and she! how often at
+the end of a song she would turn around and give him a soft, beaming
+smile of affectionate pleasure, when she felt that she had pleased him.
+How little the innocent girl dreamed of the mischief she was doing—how
+indeed should she have suspected it? Had she not played and sung for
+Captain Wilde every evening on the Rainbow, and had she not always been
+rewarded by smiles, praises, caresses, and kisses, from Sophie and from
+Captain Wilde, too? No, she did not guess the evil she was causing—she
+did not guess it even when she saw, evening after evening, that Hagar
+withdrew herself from the instrument and buried herself in a distant
+deep arm-chair, or left the room. There _was one_ who observed and
+defied her displeasure—Raymond, who occasionally raising himself from
+his recumbent posture over Rosalia’s chair, would turn, and darting his
+eyes fiercely into the obscurity of Hagar’s retreat, and fixing them
+sternly upon her, would bring her by a look back to his side, sighing,
+trembling, dejected—then smiling sweetly on her, and passing his arm
+around her little waist, would hold her there, and look supremely
+blessed while thus caressing _her_ and listening to Rosalia’s music.
+
+Alas! that Hagar was not wise! Alas! for the mental cripple, for the
+moral blind, for the injury received in infancy, for the faith crushed
+out! Hagar was not wise, did not understand—she continued, whenever she
+was permitted, sullenly to withdraw herself from the group, making the
+trio a couple, and oh! fatal sign, at last she was more and more
+frequently _allowed_ to absent herself. Hagar was insane—yes, reader, in
+recalling the circumstances of this period of her life, in trying to
+understand them, I am constrained to say that Hagar was insane, not to
+have seen that _her_ presence, _her_ sympathy, together with Rosalia’s
+perfect innocence and artlessness, would have been the immediate
+antidote to any poison that _might_ have crept into the intercourse of
+these two friends—the antidote! it would have prevented the most distant
+approach of an evil thought.
+
+Jealousy seldom or never prevents, frequently suggests and causes, the
+very infidelity it fears. No evil passion is stationary, it must
+increase or decrease. Hagar’s disease was growing. At first she had only
+been jealous of his admiration, of his affection—_now_ she was growing
+doubtful of his faith. Now, because wearied out by her sullenness,
+indignant at her unjust suspicions, even while obstinate in the pursuit
+of the pleasures and gratification of the tastes that excited her envy,
+he permitted her to withdraw from his side and isolate herself in a
+distant corner. As yet Rosalia’s bosom was at perfect peace—the slight
+shadow of the evil thought, the thought now ever gnawing at Hagar’s
+heart, ever by her insane jealousy _kept before Raymond’s mind_, had not
+darkened its brightness, had not breathed on its purity. Will the evil
+retrograde, or will it advance until it shall overwhelm the gentle girl?
+Hagar, deeply as she cherished this envy, this jealousy, was yet too
+proud to breathe it to her rival; besides, it was Raymond upon whom her
+doubts fastened, not as yet upon Rosalia. The perfect simplicity, the
+maidenly frankness, the childlike affection of Rosalia, was too apparent
+and _transparent_ to expose _her_ to doubt or suspicion.
+
+Reader, how I loathe this part of my work! this analisation of an evil
+passion is as detestable a task as I should judge the dissection and
+anatomy of a putrid heart to be. If you dislike to read it as I to write
+it, you will skip it all.
+
+Sometimes Hagar would arouse herself, and throwing off at least all
+manifestation of gloom or sullenness, would make an effort to regain her
+fast ebbing power of pleasing; she also cultivated her rare talent for
+music; but she could seldom succeed in giving Raymond pleasure. He loved
+melody, and her forte was grand harmony. The grand anthems of Haydn,
+Handel, and Beethoven, lost none of their grandeur in her apprehension
+and expression. But her soul was strung upon too high a key, to give out
+sweetly the low breathing music of the melodies he loved. Thus he
+luxuriated in the bright, soft shower of Rosalia, full of melody, and
+writhed when the sublime storm of Hagar’s grand harmony flashed and
+thundered around him. Hagar saw this with anguish, oh! and this very
+anguish gave inspiration, gave additional force and expression to her
+passionate, to her gorgeous, to her awful conceptions of music! At last,
+however, she gave up the hope of ever inspiring him with admiration of
+her fierce tempests of harmony, and tried her voice and her touch upon
+the airs he loved, but here she failed—failed entirely. This was not her
+proper forte, and she had, as yet, too little control over her voice to
+manage it mechanically—to reduce it to the minor keys—she depended for
+much of her grand performance upon inspiration, and she had no
+inspiration for those low breathing melodies. Even suffering did not
+give it her; for in her hours of anguish her soul found its only
+expression in the sharp cry, the deep roar, the thunder of the grand
+harmony,—not in the sob and wail of melody. So Hagar abandoned the
+seemingly vain attempt to make her music agreeable in the drawing. She
+cultivated the art—_her_ art now by vocation and adoption—with all the
+passionate enthusiasm of her ardent nature; it became her solace, her
+soul’s expression. Her days were divided between her music and her
+children. At length, not being able to find sufficient expression, her
+soul began to struggle for freer, fuller utterance—for the revelation of
+its _own_ individual life and love, poetry and music—and Hagar became a
+poet and a musician by these steps; first she set the finest passages of
+her best loved poets to the sublimest strains of her most admired
+composers wherever they could be adapted; where they could not, she
+essayed to set the poetry to music of her own composition, as in the
+instance of Smart’s song; and then to compose words to her favorite
+strains of harmony. At last she attained the power of revealing her
+_own_ poetry—breathing her _own_ music. She was but nineteen. Her music
+and her poetry were all impromptus of sudden, irresistible
+inspiration—the expression of her life at the moment—the electric flash
+of soul, bright and gone in an instant—they were unwritten, inspired,
+expressed, and forgotten. They would come, these spasms of inspiration,
+as the blast comes, and go as it subsides; come as the tide comes, and
+go as it ebbs; come, waking the stillness of her soul as the thunder
+comes, and go as it rolls into silence; come, lighting up the blindness
+of her mind as the lightning comes, and go as it flashes out into
+darkness; come as the storm comes, and pass as it passes. They would
+come at first unexpected, unbidden, impetuous, and irresistible,—nor
+could she send them away till a more convenient season, nor could she at
+will summon them. At length she found the spell to call these
+
+                     “Spirits from the vasty deep.”
+
+She found her power, though now she played with it only for her
+pleasure. The pent-up fire of her soul—that burned in her bosom, rocking
+to and fro, lashing its shores as a sea of flame in storm—the soul that
+blazed in and out upon her cheek, and flamed through her eyes until
+their gaze seemed to scorch you; the soul found vent in poetry and in
+music.
+
+                  And she would have been happy, _but_
+
+in the grand diapason of her life was one broken chord, that left a
+blank, or gave out discord—her jealousy.
+
+One evening, as usual, Rosalia was seated at the piano, playing and
+singing one of Moore’s melodies. Raymond was seated near her, and his
+very soul seemed floating out upon the waves of the music; presently he
+arose and went to the back of her chair where he stood bending over her,
+unconsciously half embracing her. She raised her eyes and welcomed him
+by a beaming smile, without pausing in her music. Soon, however, he
+turned and looked for Hagar; she was sitting in a distant part of the
+room, buried in the shades of a deep arm-chair—her head bent forward and
+resting on her hand, while her profile was concealed by the veil of her
+ringlets. She did not look up or notice his glance. He spoke to her; she
+raised her eyes—he beckoned her to come, but with a bitter smile, she
+shook her head in refusal; then his eyes fastened on her with a fierce
+anger, piercing through their tenderness, which now for the first time
+she did not heed; then with a quick and threatening nod, he turned away
+and gave his attention up to the music. Not one whit of this dumb show
+had Rosalia noticed. At last her song was over, and rising she left the
+piano.
+
+An hour after, Raymond Withers entered the dressing-room of his wife.
+She had thrown herself upon the lounge, and her head was drooped over
+one end, while all her ringlets falling down shaded her face. He
+approached—and standing over her with folded arms, he said—
+
+“Hagar!”
+
+She did not speak or move.
+
+“_Hagar!_”
+
+She looked up, silently.
+
+“_Hagar!_ I say.”
+
+“Well?”
+
+“What is the matter?”
+
+“Nothing.”
+
+“_Nothing!_—do not speak falsely, Hagar! tell me at once, what is the
+matter?”
+
+She smiled a haggard smile, and rising, went to her dressing-glass and
+began to unclasp her bracelets. He followed, and taking her hand, led
+her back to the sofa, seated her, and stood before her, folded his arms,
+and looking steadily at her, said, sternly,
+
+“This folly must be ended just at this point; and when I ask you a
+question, Hagar, you are to reply, and not evade it. Tell me, now, the
+cause of your gloom—tell me at once, without prevarication, for I will
+know it.”
+
+“You _do_ know it,” said she, looking up through her anguished eyes at
+his calm, stern, yet beautiful face. “You do know it.”
+
+“I do _not_ know it, and I wait your answer.”
+
+“You _suspect_ it, then?”
+
+“I am not given to _suspicion_,” sneered Raymond, “and I want to hear
+the cause of your sullenness from your own lips. Come, reply!”
+
+She relapsed into silence.
+
+“Am I to have an answer from you, Hagar?”
+
+“Alas! why do you press the question? I am gloomy, I cannot conceal it,
+but I do not complain—do not _wish_ to complain.”
+
+“Of _what_ have you to ‘complain?’”
+
+“Nothing.”
+
+“‘_Nothing!_’—false, again! for though it is true, in fact, that you
+_have_ nothing of which to complain, it is false on your lips.”
+
+She did not repel this charge, but sat with head bowed, with chin rested
+on her breast, with clasped hands on her lap, he still standing before
+her with folded arms.
+
+“Why did you not come up to the piano when I beckoned you?”
+
+“Because I did not wish to come.”
+
+“_You ‘did not wish to come’_—insolent! but passing over the
+impertinence of your reply, Hagar, _why_ did you ‘not wish to come?’”
+
+“I was not wanted.”
+
+“I called you.”
+
+“Yet I was not needed.”
+
+“That was no business of yours; I beckoned you!”
+
+“And I am not a slave, to come at your beck!” flashed Hagar, suddenly
+raising her eyes, blazing with defiance, to meet his steady gaze.
+
+“No, you are not a slave, Hagar; you are a proud, fierce woman—yet
+Hagar, to-morrow, when I call you to my side, _you will come_!” and his
+hand dropped heavily upon her shoulder.
+
+We will drop the curtain here; these scenes are disgraceful, disgusting.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+The next evening they were grouped around the piano again, Rosalia was
+singing her evening song, Raymond Withers standing at the back of her
+chair, a little on the right, and Hagar stood on the other side, leaning
+with her elbow on the end of the piano, her forehead bowed upon the palm
+of her hand. Rosalia, without raising her eyes from her music, moved the
+light so that its beams fell more directly upon her notes—its beams fell
+also upon the countenance of Hagar, exposing a face so ghastly in its
+pallor, eyes so fierce in their anguish, that Raymond, evidently fearing
+lest Rosalia should notice her agony of expression, brought her, by a
+look and gesture, out of the light and into the shade of the background
+by his side; and passing his arm around her waist, drew her up to him,
+smiling down in her face, as he whispered, quickly, under his breath—
+
+“Be gentle, tender, complying, Hagar, and you shall be happy; be the
+reverse, be rude, angry, rebellious, and you shall be wretched. Yet I
+love you, Hagar, and would prefer to make you happy; do not, while I
+love you, constrain me to deeds of hate.”
+
+She did not reply; she stood still and pale within the embrace of his
+arm, and remained there all the remainder of the evening, until Rosalia
+had finished her songs.
+
+As the girl shut down the lid of the instrument, arose and turned
+towards them, she noticed Hagar, and starting, exclaimed,
+
+“Why, Hagar! how frightfully pale you are! Are you ill?”
+
+“No”—began Hagar, but Raymond, by a tight pressure of her arm, arrested
+her speech, and answered for her.
+
+“_Yes_—she is indisposed, but a night’s rest will restore her; go to
+your chamber, love,” and taking a lamp from a side-table he gave it to
+her, and opening the door, held it for her to pass out. She went.
+Rosalia, springing up at the same moment, exclaimed,
+
+“Let me go with you to your room, dear Hagar, if you are not well!”
+
+“_No!_ I am going with her. Good-night, dear Rosalia,” said Raymond,
+suddenly starting up to follow his wife. Rosalia looked distressed,
+perplexed, and finally paced slowly and thoughtfully away to the chamber
+next the nursery, where she slept.
+
+“Hagar,” said Raymond, as soon as he reached her chamber.
+
+“Well!”
+
+“How did you spend the day after I left the house this morning?”
+
+“I kept my room with a headache, with a _real_ headache, the first I
+ever had in my life.”
+
+“Is that an intended reproach?”
+
+“No, I only mentioned it as a fact.”
+
+“Where was your cousin?”
+
+“She went to town shopping with Mrs. Collins in the forenoon, and drove
+out with the children in the afternoon.”
+
+“Then she was not with you all day?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Had no opportunity of questioning you about your ill looks?”
+
+“No; I said I had the headache, and so I really had; and when I kept my
+room she understood it to be from a slight indisposition.”
+
+“But now her suspicions are excited—she sees that your misery rises from
+a deeper source than a slight physical indisposition—take care, Hagar,
+that she does not see the _cause_. She sees that there is trouble
+between us; be sure that you do not betray the reason, or, rather, the
+_un_reason of this trouble, my lady.”
+
+Hagar did not reply to this covert threat. She was not herself; a
+heaviness, a stupor, weighed down her spirit; a reaction of the
+excitement of her ardent temperament, an ebb in the high tide of her
+life, left her weak and powerless. She lay there upon the lounge in her
+dressing-room; it was yet too early to think of retiring, and Raymond,
+taking advantage of the temporary torpor of her faculties, perhaps
+mistaking her apathy for utter submission, sat down by her side, and
+said,
+
+“Hagar, I am very tired of this, very thoroughly worn out with this; we
+have been beating the air long enough, let us come to something
+substantial. I will probe this wound of yours—extract the bullet that is
+festering in your bosom; tell me now, in so many words, of what have you
+to complain?”
+
+“I do not complain.”
+
+“You _do_; not in words, certainly, but in manner; now what is it all
+about—why are you growing more sullen, ugly, and repulsive every day?”
+
+“_Do_ not ask me! Alas! have I not tried to be patient? _I_ have kept my
+thoughts and feelings down, like wronged, suffering, and desperate
+captives in the hold of a slave ship, fearing to lift the hatches even,
+lest they should break forth, spreading pestilence and death!”
+
+She looked so _unutterably wretched_ as she lay there, with her small
+hands pressed tightly upon her brow, and as her lips, quivering, sprang
+apart and closed; that Raymond, pitying her, stooped, and placing his
+hands under her arms, raised her up, and laid her head upon his bosom,
+looking kindly in her face all the while, as he said,
+
+“Hagar, I _do_ love you—always shall, always _did_, Hagar, from the
+first instant that my eye fell upon you and caught yours—from the first
+moment that I, a youth, singled you, an infant, out from all the world
+as my own—for life, past death, and through eternity, recognising you
+for my own, knowing you for my own—_claiming_ you for my own, preferring
+you, a little, ugly, perverse infant, to all the fair and gentle maidens
+of my own age, because I knew that into your little bit of a body was
+crowded and pressed the soul and life, the fire and spirit of twenty
+women—_claiming_ you for my own, and waiting until you should grow up to
+womanhood, and never fearing or dreaming that any one would ever cleave
+my life down through the middle, and bear off the other half of it—_my
+Hagar_—for when was ever _I_ jealous, Hagar?”
+
+She clasped her arms tightly around his neck, and buried her face in his
+bosom as she answered,
+
+“But my own, _own_—you know that I was not attractive,—that no one would
+wish to dispute your claim to me.”
+
+“On the contrary, I knew that you _were_ attractive, and that Gusty May
+set up a very clamorous claim to you, and that you only needed to be
+further known, to raise many aspirants to your hand among superficial
+and impetuous young men like Gusty, who, if their eye is pleased and
+fancy tickled, believe themselves in love. No, Hagar! I trusted _in
+you_—not out of you—IN YOU, for the security of our love and life.”
+
+“My own! my own! you _might_ well have trusted in me—_may_ well trust in
+me.”
+
+“I did, and shall _always_. I married the little infant when I raised
+her on my knee at that wedding party given to Sophie and my father; I
+found my little wife then, and knew that she acknowledged my claim, saw
+in her splendid eyes, fascinated to my own, that she felt and
+acknowledged me.”
+
+“Oh, I did! I did! Looking up into your face I saw a soul radiating
+there that seemed to draw my spirit up to meet it! and I felt, Raymond,
+I felt that I had for the first time met a spirit that I had neither the
+power nor the will to resist in anything _long_; for see, Raymond! I,
+who defied Sophie and your father, told _you_ the same moment, with my
+face in your bosom, that I would do anything in the world you wished me
+to do. Don’t you remember?”
+
+“Yes, love, I remember every single item.”
+
+“And I, who laughed and shouted defiance to society in following my wild
+tastes,—I, who so desperately resisted the growing and surrounding
+influence of your will, how I permitted it to close upon me at last.”
+
+“You did _not_ permit it: you had no choice of permitting. You could not
+help it, love; _that_ makes you my own, and my own for ever, Hagar!”
+
+“Yes, but are you _mine_! as surely, oh! Raymond?”
+
+“I love you, Hagar.”
+
+“You love me—you say so—will you tell, then, since this is an hour of
+tender reminiscences, of confidences, and explanation—will you tell me
+why, since you love me, you torture me so much; tell me why, when loving
+me, you make me suffer so much, and I will forgive it—indeed, I _have_
+forgiven it—could not help forgiving it!”
+
+“You have nothing to forgive, love, and you must not use the word in
+reference to me. Yes, I will tell you, Hagar, for just now I am loving
+you very much, my own especial Hagar, and perhaps I may never be in a
+mood to tell you again. Listen, then: I believe I am naturally, or
+rather apparently, very gentle and tender, am I not?”
+
+“Yes, very; but—”
+
+“At least! I have very keen and sensitive nerves, delicate features,
+fair complexion, and all that go to make up the idea of softness and
+sensibility?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“That I got from my mother.”
+
+“Your mother! Ah! you never mentioned her to me before!”
+
+“And shall never mention her again—hush! let us resume—I _have_
+sensibility, sensitiveness—_but!_ away down in the deeps of my soul have
+a perverse spirit of great strength, power, and malice—where it came
+from I do not know; how it got there I do not know—but, Hagar, you are
+rather apt to arouse it—this spirit aroused, oppresses, seeks to subdue
+even those I love, when they resist me—this spirit in its awakened
+strength takes pleasure in its calm force of resistance, of overbearing
+and bearing down opposition, and the stronger and fiercer the opposition
+the greater the pleasure of the victory. It was that spirit that incited
+me last night, but it is not always in the ascendant—there, Hagar! that
+is the secret of the attraction your strong, fierce, proud nature had
+for me! it gives me plenty of employment, life, you see. Yet, Hagar, I
+love you.”
+
+While he spoke, Hagar’s face had changed—one might say she was
+transfigured before him! her countenance grew radiant in inspiration as
+an angel’s, and her voice was softer, sweeter than you ever heard it, as
+she said,
+
+“I am glad you told me, Raymond, it has saved me and you—it is well you
+have told me. That spirit! it is, as you say, a _perverse_ spirit, an
+_evil_ spirit, a spirit from hell; and I will give it no further
+employment, no further life, Raymond—no more food; I will not nurture it
+by pride or anger. It is a spirit of hate; I will meet it by a spirit of
+love; when it comes to war with me it shall find so little resistance,
+so little to do, that it shall fall into death from inactivity.”
+
+“You, too, have your bosom’s foe, Hagar—but it is not now, as you would
+say, ‘in the ascendant.’ Yes! you are jealous! jealous of Rosalia! Oh!
+_shameful_, Hagar!”
+
+“Alas! it is true; I wish it were not; how can I help it?” said she, as
+the cloud came over her face, obscuring its glory—“_how_ can I help it?
+It is gone now, the jealousy—but it will come back again, and nearly
+madden me! I know it will; and how can I help it, when I see that I
+cannot give you any pleasure, by all my efforts; you do not like my
+singing nor my playing—you hang over Rosalia’s chair all the evening,
+and forget my very existence.”
+
+“I do not, Hagar! I never forget you for a single instant; how _can_ I
+ever forget you, when your spirit clings so closely about me always?”
+
+“Does it?” smiled Hagar. “_I_ know it does, and I am glad you feel it,
+Raymond—glad you feel it, even at her side.”
+
+“Nonsense, Hagar! I love Rosalia—or rather I should say I _like_
+Rosalia, the fair, gentle girl, as I like her soft music, as I like a
+summer prospect, as I like the fragrance of growing flowers—as _she_
+loves her pet doves. I like her because, like all other fair, sweet, and
+melodious things, her presence gives me pleasure—a pleasure that I do
+not choose to give up for your jealousy, Hagar! So I charge you, love,
+if you cannot exterminate the ‘green-eyed monster,’ do not let him
+appear before Rosalia, and frighten the poor girl away from me. God!
+Hagar, if it comes to that, you will exasperate me to phrensy.” He spoke
+with unwonted energy, but quickly controlling himself, he said in a more
+gentle tone, “Be on your guard, love—be on your guard; this is extremely
+absurd, very ridiculous, not to say unjust to me; how you worry yourself
+and me! Kiss me, my Hagar.”
+
+“‘Kiss’ you, Raymond! a thousand, thousand times!” exclaimed she; all
+her natural wildness rebounding in the spring of her spirits, “a
+thousand times, dear Raymond; and I will try never to doubt you again,”
+and she clasped her arms about his neck, and drawing down his head,
+caressed him freely and gladly as a joyous child might. Her jealousy
+seemed gone for the time—a weight was lifted off, and that evening and
+the next day she went about with dancing eyes and with an exultant step,
+as if the spring of her little foot impelled the earth forward in its
+orbit! It was the first time Raymond had fully opened his heart to her,
+and she felt grateful for the confidence; she understood many things
+that had before been dark to her, she _thought_ she understood _all_.
+
+_Had_ he indeed opened and revealed his _whole_ heart? and if so, what
+had induced him, with his proud reserve, to be so communicative? Reader,
+had Raymond Withers spoken what we have heard him speak, _two weeks
+before_, it would have been “the truth, the whole truth, and nothing
+_but_ the truth;” _now_, however, in the recesses of his bosom lurked a
+sentiment as yet revealed in words to no one, as yet unrecognised by
+himself; _but_ yet a sentiment that was growing stronger day by day,
+that was already beginning to betray itself in unguarded moments.
+
+I repeat it, jealousy seldom prevents, frequently suggests the very
+infidelity it fears. It has been said that “Unjust suspicion is apt to
+lead to that which is well founded. It is often very dangerous to hint
+an evil, though to warn against it: for constant suspicion of harm puts
+an idea into the head that otherwise might never have occurred; and this
+idea once fairly in is not so easily got out. Thus it is that unjust
+jealousy gives rise to real unfaithfulness. Can there be a stronger
+argument against too ready suspicion?”[7]
+
+Footnote 7:
+
+  Ramsay on Human Happiness.
+
+Poor Hagar! through her besetting sin, through her unjust suspicion, she
+had kept the evil before his eyes until he had grown familiar with it.
+This was the more dangerous, not only from his peculiar temperament, and
+from the extreme beauty, grace, tenderness, and artlessness of the rival
+she dreaded; but also from the fact of their isolation from the
+moderating and correcting influence of general society. But incited by a
+vague consciousness of this scarcely acknowledged sentiment, he had
+opened his heart to Hagar, exposing “almost” _all_ its secrets, and now
+could she have continued to trust him, _her_ faith might have saved his
+fidelity—could she have _continued_ to trust him! but she could not—her
+waylaying sin could not be so promptly driven away for ever. Could an
+evil thought be dismissed, a guilty wish repressed, or a sinful passion
+crushed by one effort of the will, by one fell blow, many a moral
+victory we should see, many a moral hero hail, and the road to perdition
+be no longer paved with good intentions; but when blow after blow has
+been struck upon the waylaying foe, when after each repulsion it has
+retired only to rest, to gather force, to renew the attack, nothing but
+the highest moral courage and perseverance can keep up the warfare, can
+insure the victory. Hagar’s waylaying foe had only been beaten back for
+a time; a few days passed and it returned in power, in ferocity, with
+violence; for _now_ Hagar’s doubts of her husband’s fidelity of heart
+were becoming but too reasonable!
+
+Reader, shall I shock _you_, and distress myself, by a recital of some
+of the scenes that disgraced the next two or three weeks? Hagar’s
+confirmed suspicions, anguish, and terror? Raymond’s stern, calm,
+implacable repression of her passion? The death throes of her suppressed
+and smothered rage? The indomitable strength of will by which he held
+her down—so that through all this, for many weeks, the innocent and
+artless Rosalia had no suspicion of _his_ guilty passion, or of _her_
+racking jealousy! The poor girl wandered distressed and perplexed over
+the house, wondering in vain at a sorrow and an anger of which she could
+see no reasonable cause. If she inquired of Raymond, he would smile
+gaily and give her a light or an indifferent answer, and ask her for a
+song. If she inquired of Hagar, she would turn from her with a burning
+cheek and heaving bosom, without reply; if she pressed the question,
+Hagar would exclaim, in an agony,
+
+“Nothing! nothing! don’t ask me, Rosalia,” and leave the room; for
+Raymond had said to his wife, while his hand, talon-like, grasped her
+little shoulder, and his eye struck fiercely into hers,
+
+“Alarm this girl, give her one single inkling of the diabolical
+suspicions you cherish, and, as Heaven hears me, I will never see or
+speak to you thenceforth!” and she saw and felt that he would have kept
+his word. Yet, though she concealed the cause of her sorrow from
+Rosalia, she could not act the part of a hypocrite; she could not bring
+herself to feel kindly, or to act kindly, towards the girl who, however
+unconsciously, was wiling away her husband’s affections.
+
+Rosalia grew daily more dejected—pining for the love, the tenderness,
+the sympathy and confidence, the free and affectionate intercourse with
+her friends, to which she had been accustomed; which was the great
+necessity of her life; without which she could not exist. She confined
+herself as much as possible to the nursery, and to Hagar’s two children,
+who were just beginning to notice and to love her. She longed for Sophie
+and Captain Wilde, and for the sweet home like feeling she enjoyed with
+them. She was beginning to dream of them frequently, and to wake weeping
+for them. She was beginning to regret the tears that prevented her
+accompanying them, to wonder whether it were possible now to go to them.
+She was very unhappy here. She felt herself in an atmosphere of coldness
+and vague censure, that chilled and depressed her. She felt strange and
+lonesome now, yet she tried to make herself agreeable to all, exerted
+herself to cheer Hagar when she saw her depressed, to amuse Raymond when
+he was grave.
+
+One evening, after a particularly unsuccessful attempt to disperse the
+gloom of the drawing-room by her sweet music, she had sought her own
+chamber in despair; finding Mrs. Collins there engaged in sorting linen,
+she fell weeping bitterly upon the bed, and exclaiming through her sobs,
+
+“Mrs. Collins! what _is_ the matter in this house, can you tell me?”
+
+“It is not my place to tell you, Miss Aguilar, and perhaps I even do not
+know.”
+
+“But what do you _think_, then, Mrs. Collins? oh! please tell me, it is
+not from idle curiosity, but because, because I do love Hagar and
+Raymond _so_ much, and they are both _so_ unhappy, especially Hagar, and
+they will not either of them give me a bit of satisfaction, and I want
+so much to know if I can do anything to mend it; tell me what is the
+matter, Mrs. Collins?”
+
+“Young ladies should be very particular, Miss Aguilar; they may give
+trouble where they little think it.”
+
+“‘Particular,’ why, I _am_ particular, am I not? I dress myself
+carefully and practise my music every day, and that is all Sophie and
+Captain Wilde required of me; and, lo! if I were _ever_ so slovenly and
+idle, I should not think _that_ would make so much trouble; and even if
+it did, I should think that they would tell me of it—but it can never be
+_that_.”
+
+“You do not understand me, Miss Aguilar.”
+
+“What is it then you mean, Mrs. Collins?”
+
+“I mean young ladies should not make too free,” said the old lady,
+looking solemnly through her spectacles at the girl. “No, they should
+not make too free.”
+
+“‘Too free,’ ‘too free,’ _how_ too free?”
+
+“Too free—_with gentlemen_.”
+
+“Too free with gentlemen! who is too free with gentlemen? You don’t mean
+_me_, do you, Mrs. Collins; oh! no, you can’t mean me, because I do not
+see any gentlemen to be free with, you know! No, of course you don’t
+mean _me_; what do you mean, Mrs. Collins?”
+
+“I mean _you_, Miss Aguilar; I mean that _you_ must not be too free with
+gentlemen.”
+
+“But I don’t _see_ any.”
+
+“_None?_”
+
+“No, indeed! to be sure none—oh! except Raymond, but then I love _him_
+because he is dear Hagar’s husband and my relative, and because _he_ is
+_always_ good to me; so good! so gentle! so tender _always_! but of
+course you do not mean _him_, oh no! and I should like to know what you
+_do_ mean, dear Mrs. Collins?”
+
+“Have I not heard you speak of a lady, the mother of your betrothed?”
+
+“Yes, Mrs. Buncombe; why?”
+
+“You had better write to Mrs. Buncombe to come for you, and you had
+better return and remain with her until your people come back from
+foreign parts.”
+
+“Oh! I should like that, if Hagar would let me go.”
+
+“She will let you go, depend upon it.”
+
+“But now that I come to think of it, I cannot leave Hagar either; poor
+Hagar! while she is so sad, it would be a sin.”
+
+“Miss Aguilar, your cousin would prefer you to go, I am sure, and you
+had better take my advice.”
+
+“I am sure I should be glad to go if I thought Hagar could spare me, and
+I will see about it.”
+
+“_Do_, my dear child—and—do not mention that _I_ suggested it to you.”
+
+“Why not, Mrs. Collins, why must I not? I don’t love secrets, I never
+keep secrets—now why must I not say that you told me?”
+
+“Well! say so then, my dear, and say at the same time that I think you
+sickly and _weak_, _very_ weak, and that I think a visit South would
+benefit your health.”
+
+The old lady had finished folding and packing away her bed and table
+linen, and locking the clothes press she took up her candle and bidding
+Rosalia good night, left the room.
+
+Poor Rosalia! by the miserable failure of her education she had been
+sent into the world, into life, beautiful, fragrant, tempting, and
+defenceless as the conservatory exotic. Nurtured in the warm atmosphere
+of an enervating tenderness, she lived only in the love of those around
+her, and pined when it was withdrawn as the flowers languish in the
+cold. Rosalia was drooping—winter was approaching, yet the face of
+nature was not fading, withering from the withdrawal of the sun’s direct
+rays, faster than was Rosalia’s heart in the surrounding atmosphere of
+coldness. The whole house was a chill clime, in which there was but one
+spot of warmth, the crib of Hagar’s children. The whole day was a dreary
+blank, until the evening hour of music came, when she would try to
+please and cheer by her little songs. The whole family seemed strange,
+cold, or indifferent to her with one exception, Raymond Withers. _His_
+manner was always affectionate, his glance always fell gently on her
+eye, his tones smoothly, softly on her ear, his hand tenderly on her
+arm, and the doomed girl began, if not to love him only of all the
+family, at least to find return only in his love. As yet this affection
+of Rosalia was as pure as the maiden’s love for all others.
+
+Had Rosalia’s intellect and conscience, her moral accountability for the
+use of time and talent, been cultivated in the same proportion as her
+sensibilities and affections, she would not have been thrown thus
+helpless upon the tenderness and sympathy of others; she would have
+possessed a self-sustaining principle, would have found occupation in
+mental resources. But this was not so; she had been fondled, praised,
+and spoiled, until intellect was half drowned in sensibility, mind
+enervated nearly to fatuity.
+
+Days passed. Raymond Withers now too surely, terribly felt that his love
+for Rosalia was no longer pure brotherly affection. It was an intense
+and an absorbing passion. He began to struggle against its nearly
+overwhelming power—he began to avoid the charming girl. _Now_ could
+Hagar have trusted him; could she have believed in the _power_ of
+redeeming qualities that really existed in his heart; the solid
+substratum of good that lay beneath all this superficial alluvion of
+wilfulness and effeminacy; her faith might yet have saved him; saved
+herself from much anguish. As it was, Raymond Withers struggled on alone
+against the advancing power of his great temptation. He might have
+struggled longer, he might have struggled successfully, but that the
+very means he took accelerated the crisis, the catastrophe. He began to
+avoid Rosalia; declined her music; evaded her questions; repulsed her
+gentle attentions, until the guileless girl, utterly unable to
+comprehend her position, grew wretched, more wretched every day, in the
+thought that her _last friend, her only present friend_, as in her heart
+she began to style Raymond, had fallen from her; and by the fatality
+that makes us set a higher value upon a possession that is passing away,
+Rosalia began to prize his affection exceedingly—to desire its
+continuance more than all things—to lament its seeming loss
+passionately—to strive to win it back. “The clouds came on slow—slower;”
+the clouds whose vapors had been collected in, and evolved from their
+own bosoms, and raised to gather black and heavy in their sky, to break
+in thunder on their heads!
+
+Three circumstances combined to bring on the catastrophe of this
+household wreck, three circumstances, reader, that I wish you to notice,
+as I desire particularly to call attention here, and now, to the great
+importance of the formation of character in childhood and youth, and to
+the awful truth that the blackest treachery, the deepest guilt, the
+direst misery, the utmost perdition of men and women may sometimes be
+traced to the smallest, seemingly the most harmless mistakes in the
+education of boys and girls. Perhaps I have already been tedious upon
+this subject; perhaps I have dealt “in vain repetitions;” yet, in
+tracing the rise and progress of a guilty passion, can I be too emphatic
+in forcing the causes that produced this upon attention? These causes,
+then, I said there were three that conspired to bring down this
+impending thunderbolt.
+
+First, Hagar’s jealousy. We have seen how inevitably that jealousy
+sprang from a want of the faith that had been chilled to death in her
+heart by the coldness and neglect of her guardians in infancy. We have
+seen how that jealousy, by its violence, exasperated the anger of her
+husband; by its injustice (for in its commencement it was unjust),
+alienated his affections; by its pertinacity, suggested and kept before
+him the evil thought until it grew familiar. So much for the baleful
+effect of her jealousy upon Raymond. Its influence upon Rosalia may be
+summed up in a very few words—by manifesting itself in coldness and
+aversion, it threw the tender-hearted and guileless girl upon the ready
+sympathy and affection of Raymond for consolation. Do you now see the
+madness of this jealousy, and its powerful agency in bringing on the
+desolation of heart and home it feared and dreaded?
+
+Second, Rosalia’s tenderness—tenderness unsupported by strength of
+principle, heart unprotected by mind. We have seen that this softness
+was no more nor less than the feebleness of a character enervated by
+fond and foolish indulgence in her infancy. We have seen that this
+weakness made her dependent upon the love of those around her as the
+very breath of life; we have seen that when repulsed by Hagar’s
+coldness, it threw her for sympathy upon the affections of the only
+friend at hand; one whom, of all others, just at this crisis she should
+have been guarded against.
+
+Third, the self-indulgence of Raymond. A delicacy cultivated and refined
+for years into an effeminacy that _seemed_ harmless enough, yet that, as
+time passed, insidiously undermined his moral strength, rendering him
+daily more averse to self-denial, until he became incapable of
+self-resistance.
+
+Could either of several good principles now have been brought into
+exercise, it would have, even _now_, arrested the impending catastrophe;
+could Hagar, by prayer, by effort, have thrown off her jealousy, have
+practised faith, candor, charity—could she have shown kindness to
+Rosalia, who was, as yet, entirely innocent in thought, word, and
+deed—could she have pitied and forgiven Raymond, who, as yet, was
+guiltless in act or intention. Or, could Rosalia have sought aid from
+heaven, and balanced her gentleness by self-sustaining strength upon its
+feet. Or, lastly, could Raymond have awakened and aroused his great
+latent moral strength from the bathos of luxury in which it was half
+drowned; could he have risen and shaken himself like a lion in his
+strength, throwing off the moral lethargy stealing upon him; could he
+have risen as Samson arose in his might, breaking the fetters that bound
+him, they might yet have been saved.
+
+Alas! They seemed all under a spell, while the cloud of destiny came on,
+and on. A gloom settled on their hearth that nothing could dispel, a
+deep darkness stole through the house that neither sunlight nor
+firelight could brighten, a coldness gathered in their home that neither
+sun heat nor fire heat could warm, a silence fell around them that music
+itself could not break—moral gloom, moral darkness, moral cold, moral
+silence. The darkness, the shadow of the overhanging cloud of impending
+fate; the silence, the stillness that precedes the earthquake, while the
+fires rage and leap beneath; the awful stillness of the coming typhoon.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXX.
+                               TREACHERY.
+
+                           “He, in whom
+         My heart had treasured all its boast and pride,
+         Proves faithless.”
+                                             EURIPIDES’ MEDEA.
+
+
+It was the first of November; a Sabbath day; it had rained all night;
+the dawn of morning found the rain still pouring down in torrents; it
+was a dark, dark day; _so_ dark that a twilight gloom hung over all the
+rooms; so cold and wet that a damp chill pervaded the house. The family
+met at breakfast in the back drawing-room; a good fire had been kindled,
+but neither the cheerful fire nor the exhilarating coffee, could raise
+the spirits of the little party. Hagar was wretchedly pale and haggard;
+Raymond’s gaiety was so evidently assumed as not to be mistaken, even by
+the unsuspicious Rosalia. Rose looked from one to the other in
+unconcealable distress. Seeing that Raymond tried to make himself
+agreeable, while Hagar fully indulged her gloom, Rose again, as usual,
+settled it in her own mind that Hagar was the offending, and Raymond the
+suffering party. When they arose from the table, when Raymond walked to
+the front drawing-room window and stood there looking out upon the black
+sky and pouring rain, and when Hagar rising withdrew from the room and
+went up stairs, Rose looked around in perplexity, in a sort of sad
+lostness, not knowing what to do with herself, scarce feeling able to
+keep her feet, for loneliness and dreariness. At length with sudden
+inspiration she ran up stairs to seek Hagar. She entered her bed-chamber
+without knocking, and found her seated alone by the window, in an
+attitude of deep dejection. She went up to her, and throwing her arms
+around her neck, burst into tears, weeping freely over her shoulder.
+Hagar quietly disengaged her arms, and gently pushed her off. Rosalia
+sank upon a cushion at her feet, and dropping her head upon her lap,
+sobbed out—
+
+“Hagar! oh! what _is_ the matter? Hagar! tell me, what _is_ the matter?
+Oh! dear me! The house grows more sorrowful every day! Time passes like
+a funeral train leading shortly to the grave. Oh! I feel faint, sick,
+dying of gloom, of coldness and darkness in seeing your sorrow and not
+being admitted to share it, and not being able to do anything to
+alleviate it. Hagar! tell me; perhaps I _can_ do something for you; I
+love you so much, dear Hagar! and surely _love_ can help sorrow to bear
+her burden. Oh! Hagar! let me do something for you!”
+
+She was looking _so_ beautiful! _so_ winsome! with her pleading, coaxing
+attitude and expression, with her soft white fingers pressed together,
+with her blue eyes raised floating in tenderness and love to her face.
+She was looking so beautiful! so graceful! so irresistibly charming in
+her childlike humility and gentleness! Hagar thought of her husband’s
+heart, and looked at Rosalia. The fire flamed in and out upon her
+cheeks, burned on her lips, and shot lightning through her eyes;—rising,
+she pushed Rosalia off, and walked away.
+
+“Oh! it is I! It is _I_, who have offended you somehow! what have I
+done, Hagar? dear Hagar!” exclaimed Rose, following her, weeping.
+
+“Nothing! nothing! Oh! go away!”
+
+“Have I not done something to offend you?”
+
+“Nothing, Rosalia! Oh leave the room; do!”
+
+“You are angry with me!”
+
+“No! no! not with _you_!”
+
+“With whom, then?”
+
+“Rosalia! leave the room this moment when I tell you; haven’t I said
+that I would not be questioned?”
+
+“Hagar! yes, I will go. One word, let me say one word, and then I _will_
+go. Hagar, I suppose it is Raymond—you are angry with him. Hagar! oh!
+_do not_ treat him so badly, cruelly; make up with him; please _do_; see
+how unhappy he is! see how hard he tries to be pleasant; but he cannot
+disguise his sorrow. Oh! dear me! what _does_ make you two fall out so?
+Oh! dear me! I do wish I was in Heaven—_all I love here do make me
+suffer so much! so much!_” and she fell sobbing into a chair, while the
+dark clouds lowered, and the rain pattered heavily upon the window.
+
+At last Rosalia arose and left the chamber, crossed the hall, and
+entered the nursery. Mrs. Barnes and the housekeeper were both engaged
+dressing the children; they were now nearly five months old, and when
+they saw Rosalia enter, both began to bound in their nurse’s arms, to
+crow and laugh, and hold out their hands joyously to Rosalia. The clouds
+fled from the young girl’s face before the morning sun of their
+innocence and love, and a tender smile softened her gentle countenance
+as she floated towards them, murmuring in low music—
+
+“God bless my darlings! God love my angels! _they_ are glad to see me
+_always_!”
+
+As the children were now dressed she sat down in a large chair, and
+received them both into her arms, saying, as they fondled on her—
+
+“Now, Mrs. Collins, and Mrs. Barnes, _both_ of you go down to breakfast
+_together_—you must breakfast together sociably such a dreary day as
+this; I will mind the babies till you come back.”
+
+It was the custom for one of the two matrons to remain in the nursery
+while the other took her meals. This morning, glad to be relieved by
+Rosalia’s kindness, they set the room in order, mended the fire, making
+it blaze cheerfully, and then, while Rose stood up with the children,
+they wheeled the easy chair in front of it, and left the room together.
+Rose resumed her seat in front of the blazing fire; it was a large,
+deep, soft chair, whose wide arms held the maiden and the babies very
+comfortably. Rose loved luxury, and she revelled with the babies in that
+easy chair, while the fire glowed before her, and the rain pattered
+without.
+
+Let me strike out a bird’s-eye view of this family as they now stood. It
+is but daguerreotyping the sky before the descent of the thunderbolt.
+Raymond walked gloomily up and down the dim vista of the two
+drawing-rooms, pausing now and then at the windows to look out upon the
+dense, dark clouds that hung like a pall over all things, and to listen
+to the beating rain. Hagar sat gloomily in her dressing-room, gloomily
+as we once saw her sit in her childhood in the attic of Heath Hall. Her
+elbows propped upon her knees, her pale face dropped in the palms of her
+hands, while her hair fell out of curl all over her; it was an attitude
+and expression of utter desolation.—The blackened sky, the beating rain,
+were unheeded in the deeper darkness of her own heart, in this deep
+darkness where was gathering the lightning, was lurking the thunderbolt.
+Rosalia still sat in the large chair playing with the babies, fondled by
+them, talking that sweet baby-talk, melodious, but unintelligible as a
+bird-song to any one but women and children.
+
+Then the door was thrown widely back, and Hagar stood within it, with
+her thin face thrown out in ghastly relief by her black hair and black
+dress; she came towards Rosalia and paused, gazing with an expression of
+anguish striking fiercely through her set eyes. Rosalia looked up in
+surprise and distress.
+
+“Give me the children, Rosalia! give them to me! they are mine! they are
+like me! they are _all_ mine! Give them here! You shall not wile _their_
+love from me also! Give! give them to me! they are my only consolation.
+_Why_ don’t you give them to me?” exclaimed she, wildly holding out her
+arms. Rosalia, in fear and bewilderment, gazed on her with dilated and
+dilating eyes, scarcely distinguishing, certainly not comprehending, one
+word of her wild appeal. “Give! give them to me!” again exclaimed Hagar,
+snatching the children to her bosom, “and go, Rosalia! go! go! go!”
+
+Rosalia got up from the chair, and pressing both small hands upon her
+white temples, stood in amazement.
+
+“WILL you go?”
+
+Rosalia dropped her hands, clasping them together, and so left the room,
+passed down stairs in a dreary, bewildering sorrow, and entered the
+dusky drawing-room. _Raymond Withers was reclining with veiled eyes, in
+a day-dream on the lounge._ Seeing him she went and sank down on the
+carpet by his side, dropping her head upon the side of the lounge in
+childlike sorrow and humility, exclaiming—
+
+“Oh! Raymond, my heart is broken, _broken_! I am chilled to death in
+this cold, _cold_ place—oh! Raymond, where on the wide sea are my
+friends? Send me to them—_do_, Raymond; I shall _die_ if I stay
+here—_die—die_! I shall!” and heart-breaking sobs burst from her lips
+between every sentence. Up sprang Raymond from his recumbent position,
+exclaiming as the fire shot through his spirit-piercing blue eyes—
+
+“Has Hagar! has that kite, that wild-cat of mine been teasing you, poor
+dove?”
+
+“Don’t! hush! no!—oh, don’t call her ill names! don’t—it is so dreadful
+in _you two_ to quarrel so!” He was looking straight in her face. “It
+kills me to see it, Raymond! Oh! do send me to Captain Wilde and Sophie.
+I cannot please you two, though I have tried so hard to be good—oh!
+haven’t I? But you don’t love me, and you don’t seem to love each other;
+and you make each other suffer so much—_you two!_ and you make _me_
+suffer so much—and great God! what is it all about?” Her tears gushed
+forth again, she buried her face in the cushions of the lounge, and
+sobbed as though her heart were struggling in its death throes. _His_
+manner changed; he governed himself, or rather he resumed his usual
+tranquillity of attitude and expression, leaning over her fair head,
+while his elbow rested on the end of the lounge, and his moist and
+dishevelled golden locks trailed over the delicate white hand that
+supported his cheek; with the other hand he stroked her hair, stroked it
+down and down, while her bosom rose and fell, and sobbed itself into
+quietness. She was at rest—sweetly at rest. It seemed as if, baby-like,
+she had wept herself sleepy there, kneeling on the carpet by his side,
+with her face upon the cushions of his lounge, his delicate hand
+stroking her head. She was going to sleep; the sobs and sighs came
+deeper and at long and longer intervals; at last they ceased entirely,
+her head gradually turned upon its side, and she lay there in the sweet,
+deep slumber of a child that has cried itself to sleep. How beautiful
+she was in her unconscious innocence! Her hands lay folded one over the
+other upon the cushion, and her side face rested upon them; tear-drops
+sparkled on her drooping eye-lashes and on her glowing cheeks like
+bright dew on the red rose; her fresh lips were slightly apart,
+revealing the small pearly teeth, and her golden hair fell in moist and
+tangled ringlets over her.
+
+He had tranquillized _her_ passion of grief, but now as he gazed down on
+her sweet face, watching the color deepen in her cheeks, watching the
+regular rise and fall of her beautiful bosom, and the quiver of her
+crimson lip, moved by her breathing, an emotion arose swelling, heaving
+in his breast, like the mighty power of the subterranean fire rising in
+the volcano. It was advancing upon, it was overwhelming him; he must
+escape—he called her—
+
+“Rosalia! Rosalia!” She started out of her slumber, and gazed up
+bewildered for a moment. “You must go to your own room, Rosalia; you are
+not well,” said he, looking away from her.
+
+“Alas! are you angry with me too? _You_, Raymond? Every one drives me
+away, every one! Oh! Father in heaven, what have I done? Hagar sent me
+away from her, and then from the children, and now _you_ send me off.”
+
+And the child dropped her head, and wept again.
+
+“Go to your room, Rose, go,” exclaimed Raymond, rising and walking away
+in strong agitation.
+
+“Oh! Raymond, you! _you, too!_ to grow cruel to me! Oh, Raymond, what
+have I done that every one should repulse me—every one that I love!” she
+cried, following him; “oh, Raymond, if I have done anything wrong, scold
+me; I had rather stay here with you and be scolded, than go away by
+myself; tell me what I have done, that you all should repulse me so
+much, that all I love should drive me from them?”
+
+He waved her a gesture of desperate rejection as he still walked away,
+until he reached the window, where he stood, setting his teeth sternly,
+folding his arms in a strong rivet, bracing every nerve, and staring
+with set eyes unconsciously through the panes; she followed him, stood
+by his side, pleading, cooing in her dove-like tones.
+
+“Girl! you will madden me! go! go!” he exclaimed, without turning
+around.
+
+“Tell me! just tell me how I have offended you all, Raymond? Oh! I am
+_so_ unhappy! so lonesome—no one loves me now! tell me why?” She laid
+her soft hand upon his arm, and, bending forward, looked up in his face
+with her tender and coaxing gaze.
+
+The effect was electrical! Turning, he suddenly caught and strained her
+to his bosom, exclaiming, “My flower! my dove! my lamb! my angel! Rose!
+_oh, Rose!_” and pressing burning kisses upon her brow and lips between
+every breath and word. “Love you! I love you; more than life, soul,
+Heaven, God! Love you! my joy, my destiny! _love you!_ let me have you
+and die! give yourself to me, and the next hour let me die, die!” His
+arm encircled her beautiful and shuddering form like a chain of fire,
+and hot kisses rained upon her face.
+
+And she! Tides of blood rolled up and over bosom, cheek, and brow, like
+flame, and passed, and then she grew faint and weak in his grasp, the
+color all paled in her cheeks, leaving them snowy white; the light fled
+from her eyes, leaving them dim and heavy with drooping lids—aye, the
+very brightness seemed to fade from her golden ringlets, leaving the
+pale yellow hair falling away from ashy brows and temples—she seemed
+fainting, dying in his embrace; alarmed, he looked at her—his reason
+returned—he bore her to the sofa, and laying her on it knelt by her
+side, gazed mournfully at her, half believing her to be expiring.
+
+“Rosalia! oh, God! what have I done!” She shuddered from head to foot.
+“Rosalia! oh, I am _so_ sorry, _so_ sorry, Rose!” She raised her heavy
+eyelids languidly, and fixed them sorrowfully on his face, then dropped
+them as a quick flush spread over her face, faded, and left her pale,
+paler than ever. “Rose! Rose! forgive me, I was mad, mad.” Again she
+looked at him mournfully, her pale lips moved, but no sound came thence.
+“Rosalia! oh, Rosalia! speak to me—say that you forgive me, or put your
+hand in mine in token of forgiveness!” She raised one pale hand feebly,
+but it fell heavily upon the sofa again. “You _do_ forgive me, Rosalia,
+my pure angel! my holy angel! you _do_ forgive me!” Rosalia shook her
+head sadly—Raymond dropped his face into his hands and groaned; soon he
+felt his hands touched by a soft hand that struck the whole “electric
+chain” of his being; dropping his hands he saw Rosalia looking sadly,
+lovingly at him, murmuring very faintly,
+
+“Forgive _me_, the fault was _mine_—mine _first_, mine _only_; the sin
+of ignorance—alas! I have nothing to forgive! forgive _me_!”
+
+“Rose! my Rose!” She sighed deeply. He knelt by her side and gazed
+mournfully in her face. She could not bear that gaze; raising her hands
+feebly she spread them over her face. He groaned “God! my God! why do I
+love you so! she was right after all—poor Hagar!” Deep sighs broke from
+Rosalia’s bosom; she made many feeble attempts to rise and go away; he
+did not attempt to prevent her; but an overpowering weakness overcame
+her; she yielded to the spell that held her enchained, and so she
+lay—her face concealed by the veil of golden curls she had dragged
+across it; her frame shuddering from time to time until she sank in the
+collapse of exhaustion. And there he knelt—reproaching himself bitterly,
+yet sinning on—gazing eagerly with his lips struck apart at her pale
+cheek through its glittering veil of hair, watching, silently praying
+for a responsive glance. At last, he said, “Rosalia! darling Rose, go to
+your room, love; it is not safe or well to stay here—go, Rose,” she gave
+him her hand, and he raised her up.
+
+He raised her up—she stood pale, trembling, bewildered, weak; and walked
+with tottering steps towards the door. He went and opened it—held it
+open for her—she passed; and as she passed, raised her eyes to his face,
+met his eyes full of anguish looking down upon hers, turned, and threw
+herself in his arms, exclaiming,
+
+“Oh, Raymond! Raymond! you are _so_ unhappy!—_I_ am so miserable to see
+you thus! Oh! Raymond, is it I? is it I that have made you so? Tell me!
+tell me! can I dissipate it?—can I drive your sadness away? Would my
+death do it, Raymond? I would _die_ for you! Oh! Raymond, it does not
+seem to me to be wrong to love you, love you so!—to love you so!” She
+hung heavily upon his bosom.
+
+“Go! go! go! go, Rose!—go, mad girl!” he cried, tearing her away from
+his bosom, and almost fiercely pushing her through the door, and
+shutting it abruptly upon her—then walking wildly up and down the floor,
+like a chafed tiger in his cage, grinding together his teeth, and
+exclaiming,
+
+“She loves me!—loves me!—loves me!—me first!—me only!—as she never loved
+before!”
+
+Rosalia crept slowly up the stairs—reached her own room, and threw
+herself upon her bed, her senses whirling in a bewildered maze. The
+sound of the pouring rain became painfully distinct in the dead silence.
+The dinner hour arrived. The servants came in to lay the cloth. Raymond
+Withers walked to the window to conceal his still unsubdued agitation.
+When all was ready, the ladies were, as usual, summoned by a message.
+Soon Hagar entered. Raymond met her at the door, with a troubled, gloomy
+look, and giving her his arm, conducted her to the table. He looked
+around, and uneasily watched the door, but did not inquire for Rosalia.
+She, also, waited for the entrance of the girl, expecting her every
+instant. At last she said to the servant in attendance,
+
+“Let Miss Aguilar know that dinner is ready.”
+
+The man left the room and soon returned—
+
+“Miss Aguilar is not well, and begs to be excused,” he said.
+
+They raised their eyes, and met each other’s gaze of inquiry at the same
+moment, but neither asked a question, or made a comment upon her
+absence—each was silent from a private motive of his or her own. Hagar
+supposed that her harshness had deeply wounded the sensitive girl (as it
+really had), and that that was the reason of her absence—while Raymond,
+of course, _knew_ the real cause.
+
+The dreary meal was over—they arose from the table—Hagar was preparing
+to leave the room. Raymond went after her, and took her hand, looking
+with a troubled expression into her face—she met that strange look with
+a sad, inquiring gaze.
+
+“Where are you going, Hagar?”
+
+“Up stairs.”
+
+“Will you not stay, and pass the afternoon with _me_, Hagar?”
+
+She looked at him in anxious, in sorrowful perplexity.
+
+“_Do_, Hagar—I need you so much now!”
+
+“Ah! for want of more attractive company!” exclaimed she; and laughing
+bitterly, threw off his hand, and left the room.
+
+Hagar, half repenting her harshness to Rosalia, and entirely ignorant of
+the scene that followed, went to the girl’s room, to inquire concerning
+her health. She entered it. Rosalia was lying on the bed, with both open
+hands spread over her face—pressed upon her face—she did not remove them
+as Hagar entered. This Hagar attributed to resentment. She went and
+stood by her bed in silence an instant, and then called to her—
+
+“Rosalia!”
+
+She started—shuddered.
+
+“Are you ill, Rosalia?”
+
+A silent nod was her reply.
+
+“Can I do anything for you?”
+
+She shook her head, in mournful negation.
+
+“Will you have anything?—speak!”
+
+“Nothing.”
+
+“Where are you ill?”
+
+“All over.”
+
+“What _will_ you have, Rosalia?”
+
+“_Solitude!_”
+
+“Are you angry, Rose?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“I suspect you are!”
+
+“No.”
+
+Hagar went up to her, and drew her hands away from her face. The hands
+were icy cold—the face snowy pale. To avoid Hagar’s glance, she closed
+her eyes, while a shudder ran all over her frame. Hagar went into her
+own room, poured out a glass of wine, and brought it to her. She waved
+it off, and turned her face to the wall. After some further fruitless
+attempts to aid her, and after finding that all her efforts increased
+the girl’s distress, Hagar left the room, thoroughly persuaded that
+Rosalia was sulking with _her_, and determining to send Mrs. Collins in
+to her. The housekeeper entered—there was a sternness about the
+expression of her shut mouth and solid-looking chin, that we have never
+seen there before, as she looked at the languid girl.
+
+“What is the matter, Miss Aguilar?” she inquired, rather abruptly.
+
+Rose uncovered her face, and looking up with an agonized, an imploring
+expression, said—
+
+“I am sick all over, and I want to go to Sophie!”
+
+“I think if that were possible it would be very well.”
+
+“Is it not possible, then—can’t I—oh, _can’t_ I go?”
+
+“Your friends are on the sea, Miss Aguilar, I presume.”
+
+“And is there _no_ way to get to them—no way, oh, my God! to escape?”
+
+“I do not know much of these things, Miss Aguilar, but I should think it
+were quite out of the question.”
+
+“No way, oh! my God, to escape!”
+
+“What do you mean, Miss Aguilar, by that?”
+
+“I mean—oh! I mean—that I am _crazy_—and have no one to love me and take
+care of me _till I come to my senses_!” said Rose, pressing her temples.
+“I am done to death—_done to death_!”
+
+“I do not understand you, Miss Aguilar,” said the old lady, seating
+herself, and looking steadily and severely at the pale girl.
+
+“Don’t look so hard at me, Mrs. Collins, please don’t—oh! I am
+_crazy_!—yes, I must be!—yes, I must be! Oh! Mrs. Collins, I have been
+delirious—delirious within the last hour, and I am insane still!—_Insane
+still!_ I—oh! my God!—I did not know before that people _could_ be crazy
+and _know_, and not be able to get well!”
+
+“_What has turned you crazy, Miss Aguilar?_”
+
+“Oh! don’t call me ‘Miss Aguilar,’ _every time_, and don’t look so hard
+at me!” cried Rose, covering her face with her hands.
+
+“GOD is looking at you, Miss Aguilar, and you cannot cover your face
+from Him!” said the old lady, severely.
+
+“I do not wish to, indeed,” replied Rose, meekly, uncovering her face
+again, “I do not wish to; but I _do_ wish He would take me away—would
+catch me up from the earth—would send my angel mother to fetch me!”
+
+Mrs. Collins did not reply to this; she sat the bed, seemingly unwilling
+to converse with her. At last she said—
+
+“Did you ever mention to your cousin your wish to return to Maryland,
+Miss Aguilar?”
+
+“No, I did not.”
+
+The old lady looked disapprobation, but inquired—
+
+“May I presume to ask _why_, Miss Aguilar?”
+
+“I have made several attempts, but Hagar gives me no opportunity of
+speaking to her at all!”
+
+“Not to-day, Miss Aguilar?—not a half hour before this?”
+
+“Oh, to-day—to-day—I _could_ not talk to her—could not _look_ at her or
+bear her look!”
+
+The old lady now grew positively pale, and shrank away from the side of
+the girl. Rosalia followed the gesture with deprecating eyes.
+
+“You must excuse me, Miss Aguilar, but all this is very horrible—very!”
+
+She was silent again for a long time, and then she said—
+
+“You spoke, Miss Aguilar, of your wish to follow your friend, Mrs.
+Wilde; as that is quite impossible, why not now go back to Maryland to
+your future moth—to Mrs. Buncombe?”
+
+“Yes, yes; I will do that, if they will let me—I wish to do it!”
+
+“Mrs. Withers will very gladly assist your departure, Miss Aguilar.”
+
+“Will _you_ ask her?”
+
+“I will.”
+
+“Go now and do it; let it all be arranged during these rainy days, so
+that as soon as the bad weather is over I shall be able to set out; it
+is no use to put off the journey until we can write to Emily and she can
+reply to our letter or come after me; _that_ would make the interval too
+long. Some one will be travelling down to Washington just at this
+season. Yes, members of Congress will be going soon, and Hagar can send
+me with some gentleman’s family; or, at all events, I can travel alone—I
+am not afraid of water now! not now! My God! not of death in any shape
+or form. Go now! go to Hagar, Mrs. Collins!”
+
+The old lady arose and left the room, full of the darkest suspicions;
+she found Hagar in the nursery. After a little desultory conversation,
+she remarked, as composedly as she could—
+
+“I have just come from the chamber of Miss Aguilar; I think there is
+nothing as yet the matter with her health of body; her mind seems
+disturbed, disordered, depressed.”
+
+Hagar, of course, knew _that_; but attributed it to the wounded
+spirit—wounded by her own recent harshness. The old lady continued—
+
+“And she expresses a wish to return to Maryland!”
+
+“Indeed! Does she?” exclaimed Hagar, looking up.
+
+“Yes, and I think the change of air and scene would benefit her
+spirits.”
+
+The color was coming back to Hagar’s cheek, and the light to her eye.
+The old lady went on to say—
+
+“Her health is delicate, I think, and our climate is severe—very
+severe—and if I might venture, I should advise that she be sent down
+without delay to Maryland, to spend the winter.”
+
+Hagar was sitting in an attitude of aroused and hopeful thought, with
+her elbow resting on the crib, finger on her lip and eyes raised, while
+life and light were tiding back, till face and ringlets flashed bright
+again.
+
+“And she really wishes this, Mrs. Collins?”
+
+“She really does.”
+
+“Does she complain of her position here?”
+
+“N-no, not exactly—certainly she complains of _no one_—so far from that,
+she speaks as usual with the utmost affection of all.”
+
+Mrs. Collins, noticing the eloquent expression of returning hope upon
+Hagar’s face, ventured to remark—
+
+“And there are _other_ reasons why this journey should be hurried, Mrs.
+Withers”—
+
+But, with a dignified gesture of the hand, Hagar arrested her speech.
+
+“No matter for other reasons, Mrs. Collins; you have given enough. I
+will write immediately to Mrs. Buncombe, and you will be so kind as to
+go to Miss Aguilar’s room, and tell her that every arrangement shall be
+made for her journey without delay; tell her I should like to see and
+converse with her as soon as she feels well enough to receive me; and as
+you go, send the housemaid in to me.”
+
+The housekeeper left the room, and soon the maid entered it.
+
+“Sarah, go to Miss Aguilar, and tell her that you are ready to assist
+her in preparing her wardrobe for her journey—she is going to make a
+visit.”
+
+Raymond received the news of Rosalia’s intended departure in gloomy
+silence. It was a strange thing to see Raymond Withers gloomy—he who had
+borne himself through all scenes with such gay nonchalance. Rosalia
+appeared at the breakfast-table next morning, looking pale and pensive,
+and withdrew from it as soon as she possibly could.
+
+“That girl looks badly,” remarked Raymond, making an effort at
+conversation.
+
+“Yes,” replied Hagar.
+
+“Have you taken it into consideration that she cannot travel alone down
+South?”
+
+“Yes; she wishes you to inquire and procure for her an escort.”
+
+“I will do so,” said he, and turned to receive the packet of letters and
+papers from the servant, who had just brought them from the Post-office.
+He opened one or two letters, ran his eyes over them, and carelessly
+threw them aside. One, however, caught his particular attention; he
+started on seeing it—he read it with great care. Hagar arose to leave
+the room, but he arrested her by a gesture; she returned and sat down;
+he continued his reading carefully to the end, folded the letter, and
+holding it in his hand, fell into thought, lost consciousness of his
+wife’s presence, and was only aroused from his lethargy by her rising a
+second time to leave the room.
+
+“Stay, Hagar,” said he.
+
+“But wherefore? I wish to go to the children, and you seem quite
+absorbed in thought; no bad news I trust, though indeed there is no one
+from whom it is likely we should hear bad news.”
+
+“No, there is no bad news—but this _is_ rather an important mail,” said
+he, laying the letter on the table before her. “You may remember that
+Wilde has been teasing me for a long time to accept his influence in
+procuring me a post under the present administration, with which his
+political friends have considerable influence. I laughingly accepted his
+kind offer when he was here last fall, and permitted him to write his
+friends, Secretary ——, and Judge ——, about me. Here is the result. I
+need not say that it was wholly unexpected by me.”
+
+He handed her the letter—it was a notification of his appointment to the
+post of Consul at the port of ——, in the Mediterranean.
+
+“And you will accept it?” inquired she.
+
+“And I will accept it.”
+
+“And take your family with you.”
+
+“By no means, love—what should I do with you and the children on the
+voyage? in your present condition of nervous irritability too? It is not
+to be thought of for an instant!”
+
+“Oh! Raymond,” she pleaded, involuntarily clasping her hands and raising
+her eyes imploringly to his face; “oh! Raymond!”
+
+“Oh, _nonsense_, love! no extravagance, now, I beg of you—not one word,
+Hagar! I cannot bear it, cannot be annoyed, cannot!”
+
+“But, Raymond!” she persisted, laying her small hand gently on his arm,
+and looking up in his face seeking to catch his eye—“but, Raymond!”
+
+“But _folly_, Hagar! do not trouble me; I will have no controversy about
+this—I hate controversy, as you very well know—I will do what I think
+best for us all—and you must be content with that—or _appear_ content,
+and stop troubling me!” said he, averting his face.
+
+She was standing by his side, leaning over his arm, and now she passed
+her hand up around his head, and trying gently to turn it around, said,
+“Raymond, look at me; _please_ look in my face.” He looked down in her
+eyes inquiringly. She said lowly, gently, “I have a secret to tell you,
+Raymond; before you come back, I shall be a mother _again_,” and dropped
+her head upon his bosom too soon to see the slightly startled eye and
+the frown of vexation that contracted his smooth brow as he held her
+there; presently he led her to a chair and seated her—stood by her half
+embracing her shoulder, stroking her head. “_Now_ you will not go,
+Raymond; or if you go, you will take us with you, will you not?”
+
+He did not reply for some time, and then he replied gently, “Be
+reasonable, Hagar, always. I am sorry, Hagar, for this—yet you know,
+love, that men frequently have to leave their wives under such
+circumstances; men of the army and navy all have this trial to bear.”
+
+“But it is _their_ profession, _their_ duty, _they_ cannot avoid it; but
+you can, can you not, dear Raymond? You can, _at least_, take us with
+you; a privilege which, with very rare exceptions, is not enjoyed by
+those in the professions you name.”
+
+“Dear Hagar, you try my patience! Come, you are taking advantage of my
+sympathies at this moment, to worry me; have done with it—listen to me!
+this administration is in its third year—I shall probably hold this
+office nearly two years; if the same party remain in power, I shall
+probably continue to hold it—in which case I shall send for you and your
+children.”
+
+“And you _will_ go?”
+
+“Yes, love.”
+
+“And it will be rather more than a year, nearly two years, before you
+return or send for us?”
+
+“Yes, love, but what is that? Officers commonly leave their wives for
+_three_ years at a time. Come, Hagar! do not be selfish, brace yourself
+to bear a little trial that is not an unusual one among your sex.”
+
+“Oh! but this is so sudden! Great God!” and Hagar, clasping her hands,
+left the drawing-room and went to the nursery. Raymond Withers walked up
+and down the two rooms, with his hands clasped behind his back, with a
+fixed eye and a curdled cheek, not noticing the boy who entered to clear
+the table, and who was watching him attentively, and who on going to the
+kitchen, remarked in a suppressed whisper to the cook,
+
+“Well! I never did see any man look so much as though he were making a
+sale of himself to the devil, as our Mr. Withers does!”
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXI.
+                             THE LONE ONE.
+
+            What is the worst of woes that wait on age?
+              What stamps the wrinkle deepest on the brow?
+            To view each loved one blighted on life’s page,
+              And be alone on earth—as I am now.
+
+
+The preparations for Rosalia’s departure for Maryland went on rapidly. A
+letter had been received from Emily Buncombe, in reply to the one
+written by Hagar, in which she expressed the great degree of pleasure
+with which she should expect the arrival of her dear adopted daughter
+Rosalia. Rose had wept over the letter—there was none of the pleasure
+expressed in her countenance, that might naturally have been expected.
+Raymond observed it, but _he_ appeared fully occupied with the winding
+up of his business, and with making arrangements for a visit to
+Washington, to receive his credentials previous to his departure on his
+foreign mission. It seemed the most natural thing in the world, that
+Raymond Withers should propose to take his young ward and cousin under
+his escort for the journey, and to see her safe in the house of her
+future mother-in-law—so perfectly natural and proper, that Hagar could
+find no word to say in objection—and Rosalia—but when did Rose ever
+object to any course proposed for her by another? She went on
+sorrowfully with her quiet preparations, and in a few days these were
+completed. The day of their departure drew near, and Hagar sank deeper
+into despair, that sometimes broke out into expressions of wildest
+anguish. Raymond wore a dark cloud of gloomy abstraction, of morose
+determination, from which the lightnings of a sudden anger would
+sometimes flash, when he would be exasperated by the wild and passionate
+grief and resistance of Hagar—sudden outbreaks of phrensied opposition
+to the overwhelming destiny coming on, slowly coming on, surely coming
+on—she felt it.
+
+“It is unreasonable, Hagar, this wild grief at the thoughts of an
+absence of but two weeks, Hagar, only two weeks. I shall be back again
+in even _less_ time, probably, and remain with you a month before my
+final departure.”
+
+“Ah! ah!”
+
+“Do you not believe me, then?”
+
+“Yes, I believe you! I believe you! but—”
+
+“But, _what_?”
+
+“I cannot! cannot shake off this avalanche of cold horror from my
+soul—it seems like direst doom bearing me down and down to perdition; it
+seems as though the end of all things were at hand.”
+
+“Hagar, it is your health, morbid nerves—you will get over this in a few
+days, after I am gone.”
+
+“After you are gone—yes, after you are gone, when all is silent for want
+of your voice, when all is dark for want of your glance, when my whole
+soul will starve for your presence—but you will no longer see my
+paleness, hear my moaning, or be troubled with my heart’s sorrow!” she
+would exclaim wildly and bitterly.
+
+“No more of this! you SHALL NOT excite yourself thus in my presence. I
+WILL NOT have it, you selfish and absurd woman! bah! why do you compel
+me to speak to you in this manner? be easy, love! go play with the
+babies, sing a song, take a ride, practise a piece of music, swallow an
+opiate, read a novel—do anything, rather than cling about and around me
+so tightly, that I shall have to hurt you in shaking you off. Go! go lie
+down, read a play.”
+
+“Read a play!” exclaimed she, bitterly.
+
+“Well, go hang yourself, then!” exclaimed he, savagely, breaking from
+her, flinging himself out of the room, and slamming the door after him.
+
+Hagar stood where he had left her, transfixed with astonishment; this
+was the first occasion upon which she had ever seen him depart from the
+Chesterfieldian propriety of his usual self-possession. Slowly she
+recovered her senses; slowly left the room and sought her children. A
+death-like calmness settled on her pallid brow, she made no further
+opposition to his plans, asked no further questions of his purposes.
+
+The night before the parting came. Their trunks were all down in the
+piazza—the carriage was even packed with the small bundles, so that
+there should be as little delay as possible in the morning, as they
+wished to reach the village in time to meet the morning boat, which
+passed about the break of day. Supper was served an hour earlier, so
+that they might all retire to rest sooner, and be up in time. At that
+supper and during that evening, Hagar’s manner was quiet—quiet as death,
+except that from under her heavy pallid eyelids, flamed out a gloomy,
+baleful fire, as she would fix her eyes upon Rosalia; in her cheek came
+in and out a flickering fire; her bosom would heave, her teeth snap with
+a spring, and her hand clinch convulsively, while a spasm would convulse
+her form. Raymond watched her with visible anxiety, sought to catch her
+now murky and fiery eye; in vain—he could not control or affect her in
+any way. They arose from the table.
+
+“Give us one more song in this room, Rosalia, before you leave it,” said
+Raymond Withers, leading her to the instrument—at the touch of his hand,
+waves of blood bathed the girl’s bosom, neck, and face, as a fire bath,
+and then receding, left her ashy pale—and tottering on the verge of a
+swoon, she sank into the music-chair, ran her fingers feebly and
+mechanically over the keys, striking a faint prelude, opened her lips to
+sing, stopped, dropped her head upon the music, and burst into
+tears—then rising suddenly, left the room. Neither Raymond nor Hagar
+attempted to prevent her—they looked at each other.
+
+“What an evening!—my last evening at home!”
+
+“Your _last_!”
+
+“Well! my last for a week or two.”
+
+“Ah!”
+
+“What is the matter with _you_ this evening, Mistress Hagar?”
+
+“I want a ride, an opiate, or a novel!” laughed she, sardonically, then
+suddenly she sank into a chair, and subsided into the gloom of her
+former manner—an excited gloom like a smouldering fire—he watched her
+uneasily.
+
+“Hagar.”
+
+“Well!”
+
+“Where are your children?”
+
+“Asleep in the nursery, of course; where else should they be?”
+
+“Do you not usually see them to bed yourself at this hour?”
+
+“Yes! but to-night I put them to sleep an hour earlier, that _I_ might
+spend the evening—_your last evening_, Raymond, with you!” exclaimed
+she, sarcastically.
+
+“Hagar! there is a lurking phrensy in your look and manner that annoys
+me.”
+
+“Ah!”
+
+“Makes me uneasy.”
+
+“At last!”
+
+“There is danger in you.”
+
+“THERE IS!” she exclaimed, starting with wild energy.
+
+“HAGAR!”
+
+He caught her burning hands and held them with the strength of a vice,
+trying to catch her fiery and flying glances; at last they fell and
+struck into his own, quenching their fire in the cold, calm, liquid gaze
+of his mesmerizing eyes, then—
+
+“Hagar!” he said, very softly, “why, what a temperament you have—will
+_nothing_ quiet you?”
+
+She kept her gloomy eyes fixed upon him, and was about to reply, when
+the door opened softly, and Rosalia re-entered the room. Hagar started
+violently, and shuddered at her sudden apparition, but Raymond continued
+to hold one hand to prevent her moving, as Rosalia passed up to the
+piano, and resuming her seat, with an air of forced calmness, said—
+
+“I have come back to sing you the song, as this is the last evening of
+my stay.”
+
+There was an air of effort, of painful effort, about her singing and her
+deportment generally, very distressing to see, as if the poor girl had
+forced herself to a measure exceedingly repugnant to herself, for the
+sake of giving pleasure, or of deprecating blame. Raymond did not
+approach her while she sang; indeed he dared not yet leave the side of
+Hagar, who was now looking more like a half mesmerized maniac than
+anything else. By the time Rosalia had ceased singing, a servant entered
+with the chamber lamps on a waiter, and accepting that as a signal for
+breaking up, Raymond handed one to Rose, and bidding her good night,
+opened the door and dismissed her. Hagar, with wild eyes, sprang
+suddenly past him, and arresting Rose by grasping her arm, exclaimed,
+
+“Rosalia! secure your door on the inside to-night! _do it!_” and letting
+fall her arm she returned to the room, and sank into her seat. Raymond
+was standing before her with folded arms and severe brow.
+
+“What is the meaning of this new phrensy, Hagar?”
+
+She looked up at him with fiery and bloodshot eyes.
+
+“Raymond! I am mad! I am terrified! I am in the power of a passion I
+cannot control! a fiend I cannot resist! All this evening! all this
+evening! I have been impelled by an almost irresistible impulse!
+attracted by a terrible fascination! _to a crime!_ _to a_ CRIME! hold
+me, hold me, Raymond! keep me away from myself—I am going mad! I am! I
+am!” her eyes were fiercely blazing wide, and every vein and nerve
+visibly throbbing. He went to the side-board, poured out and handed her
+a large glass of water, which she immediately drained. Then he leaned
+his elbow on the table, and bending forward, spoke to her—
+
+“See here, Hagar, you _are not_ mad, and you _shall not_ go mad! Listen
+to me, and I will bring you to your reason very soon, and very
+thoroughly. You give way to all sorts of wild impulses—always _did_,
+always _will_—extravagant in every emotion, frantic in every passion;
+from the love of your children to the hatred of your fancied rival; from
+the adoration visited upon me to the worship tendered God; from your
+taste for horses, to your talent for harmony; all, all extravagance; I
+naturally expect it from you; but there is a limit to your license,
+mistress; you are not to grow malignant or dangerous in any way;
+harmless and quiet lunatics may go at large; phrensied, mad women must
+be confined; harmless lunatics may be permitted to remain in the house
+with children, maniacs must be kept away from them. I am going to leave
+the country. I cannot think of leaving my children within reach of a
+woman, subject to visitations of irresistible impulses and terrible
+fascinations to deeds of blood—I must see her calm. You are calm now, I
+think, Hagar! quite cooled down, are you not? Say, Hagar?”
+
+She was. The color had all faded away from her face, and she sat with
+haggard eyes fixed upon her clasped hands.
+
+“Will you retire to rest now, as we leave so early in the morning?”
+
+She arose and walked quietly to her room—he followed her after a while.
+She did not sleep all night, but lay quietly with her fingers pressed
+around her forehead. Before the first faint grey of morning dawned, Mrs.
+Collins rapped at their door to say that breakfast was ready. In half an
+hour from that the travellers had dressed, breakfasted, and stood
+grouped in the chilly hall, while the carriage was rolling up to the
+door. It stood still—the driver jumped down, opened the door, let down
+the steps, and remained waiting by its side.
+
+“Hagar!” said Raymond Withers, turning pale, as he went to her and
+opened his arms.
+
+“You last—you last!” she exclaimed, hastily kissing Rosalia, and
+turning, throwing herself into his arms.
+
+“Come, Rosalia,” said he, and drawing her arm through his own, and
+descending the stone stairs, he handed the pale and trembling girl into
+the carriage—she turned around to take a last view of her late home, and
+her eye fell upon _this picture_, a picture ever after distinctly
+present to her mind—the portico, with its slender white marble pillars
+visible in the grey of the morning, the front door partly open,
+revealing the lamplight in the passage-way, which struck across the
+stone floor and fell upon the haggard form and face of Hagar, as she
+stood there in her desolation, as she stood there leaning against the
+pillar, with her pale countenance struck out into ghastly relief by the
+dishevelled black hair falling down each side of her cheeks, and meeting
+the black boddice of her dress; but one glimpse Rosalia caught of that
+death-like face seen through the cold grey morning light, and against
+and intercepting the glancing and oblique rays of the gleaming
+lamplight, but one glimpse as the carriage door closed upon her, yet
+that despairing look was never absent from her mind; it went with her on
+her journey, pursued her through life, and unto death. The carriage
+rolled away, and Hagar, turning, fell lifeless upon the threshold of her
+own door!
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXII.
+                           THE TEMPTED ANGEL.
+
+                         “A spirit pure as hers
+               Is always pure, e’en when it errs,
+               As sunshine broken in the rill,
+               Though turned astray is sunshine still.”
+                                                   MOORE.
+
+
+“You are weeping, Rosalia; why do you weep?” asked Raymond Withers,
+taking the seat by her side as soon as the carriage door was closed upon
+them; “why do you weep so, dear Rosalia?”
+
+“Alas!”
+
+“And why ‘alas,’ Rose?”
+
+“Hagar! Hagar!”
+
+“And what about her?”
+
+“She suffers so! she suffers so!”
+
+“_Can_ she suffer, Rosalia? _can_ her fierce, high nature suffer _at
+all_, Rosalia?”
+
+“Oh, can’t you see it; can’t you see it?”
+
+“I can see she is angry and defiant; but for the rest, Rosalia, I never
+saw her shed a tear in my life; did you?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“When _you_ suffer you weep, do you not?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Always?”
+
+“Oh, yes!”
+
+“Very well then, Rose; when you see or hear that Hagar Withers _weeps_,
+believe that she sorrows, and not _till_ then; you are weeping still;
+weep on my bosom, Rose!” and he drew her within his arms and laid her
+head against his breast.
+
+The carriage stopped at the steamboat hotel upon the river’s side, the
+boat had not yet arrived, though day was breaking fast, and the Eastern
+horizon already looking rosy. Raymond Withers took Rosalia into the
+parlor of the hotel, and having seated her, went out and dismissed the
+carriage, and returning to her, said,
+
+“Remain here, dear Rosalia, until I step to the Post-office to see if
+there be any letter come in last night’s mail for any of us. I will
+return in five minutes.”
+
+He went out. The Post-office was near at hand; he reached it, and had
+just received a packet of letters and papers, when the sound of the
+approaching boat warned him to hurry on. Giving orders to a porter to
+carry their baggage on board, he hurried in, took Rosalia under his arm,
+hastened down to the beach, went on board, and the next moment they were
+carried rapidly down the river. Rosalia went into the ladies’ cabin to
+put off her bonnet, and Raymond retired to read his letters. One letter
+fixed his attention; it was directed in a well known hand, and
+postmarked Norfolk; he walked up and down the guards of the boat buried
+in deep thought; at length he went to the door of the ladies’ cabin, and
+calling the stewardess, told her to request Miss Aguilar to throw on her
+shawl and come up. Rosalia soon appeared at the head of the gangway. He
+offered her his arm and carried her up to the hurricane deck, that was
+at this hour vacant; they sat down on one of the rude benches
+(steamboats were not the floating palaces _then_ that they are _now_),
+the sun was just rising, and lighting up into flashing splendor the
+gorgeous glories of the landscape, the river flowed like liquid gold
+between high banks of agate and of emerald; but it was not upon the
+magnificent river scenery that he looked.
+
+“Rosalia, I have a letter here from Gusty May.”
+
+She changed color.
+
+“His ship, or rather Captain Wilde’s ship, has been in an engagement!”
+
+“Oh, my God!”
+
+“Hush—all your friends are safe.”
+
+“But, oh! _somebody’s_ friends are killed, or wounded!”
+
+“Probably, my sweet girl; but they have been in an engagement and taken
+a prize—captured a slave ship!”
+
+“Oh, sweet Providence! Sophie exposed in a battle with a pirate!”
+
+“But, my gentle girl, Sophie is _well_—but they have captured a prize,
+and Gusty May has been intrusted with the command of the vessel, and has
+brought it home—that is, to Norfolk!”
+
+“To Norfolk! Gusty now in Norfolk!” exclaimed Rosalia, growing pale.
+
+“Yes; and he writes that just as soon as he can obtain leave of absence,
+he is coming to see you”—
+
+Rosalia trembled so much that he had to pass his arm around her waist to
+keep her in her seat.
+
+“He says that he intends to call at Churchill’s Point to see his mother
+on his way to see us”—
+
+Rosalia seemed upon the verge of a swoon; he tightened his hold around
+her waist and went on speaking—
+
+“He incloses this letter to you,” and opening his own envelope, Raymond
+Withers took out a delicately folded letter and handed it to her; she
+received it with a trembling hand, broke the seal, glanced over the
+contents, the letter dropped from her stiffening fingers, her face grew
+white as death, her lips paled and fell apart, her eyes closed, and she
+sank into a swoon upon his bosom. He held her there without alarm or
+embarrassment; he stooped and picked up the letter she had let fall. He
+glanced over it—it was full of the youthful lover’s exultant young life;
+one page was filled with glowing accounts of the battle, the victory,
+the prize; another with passionate protestations of love, fervent
+aspirations after a speedy re-union, &c., &c.; but upon the page upon
+which her eyes had been fixed when she swooned, was an expression of a
+hope that she would bestow her hand upon him during his present visit,
+assuring her that he bore with him letters to that effect from Captain
+Wilde and from Sophie. Rosalia opened her eyes just before he finished
+reading it. He raised her partly off his arm, and said,
+
+“Well, Rosalia, I have read your letter or the greater part of it, do
+you care?”
+
+“No—oh, no!”
+
+“Well, Rosalia, you will probably meet your betrothed at the house of
+your intended mother-in-law.”
+
+“Oh, I had rather die! die!”
+
+“Rosalia!”
+
+“Oh, I had! I had a _thousand times_ rather die than _meet_ him! much
+less marry him!”
+
+“Rosalia, there is one way to avoid it.”
+
+She looked at him in painful inquiry.
+
+“Go with me to the Mediterranean!”
+
+She started violently—again the blood rushed in torrents to her face,
+and passing, left it pale as marble. She did not attempt a reply in
+words—he continued,
+
+“Captain Wilde is cruising in the Mediterranean. Sophie is either with
+him or residing with the family of some English or American Consul at
+some convenient seaport. I can easily find out. I can very easily take
+you to them, to Captain and Mrs. Wilde, if you would prefer that to
+living with Mrs. Buncombe.”
+
+“Oh, yes, indeed I should so prefer it, greatly prefer it, but could it
+be done? is it right that it should be done? Will Mrs. Buncombe think it
+proper? and will Hagar approve of it? I wish this letter had come a day
+sooner, so that we might have consulted Hagar!”
+
+Raymond Withers smiled a strange smile as he said,
+
+“Whatever Mrs. Buncombe may say or think, I do not imagine that Hagar
+will be much surprised, or that Sophie Wilde will fail to give you a
+most enthusiastic welcome _when she sees you_!”
+
+“If I thought it were possible, that is to say, convenient and agreeable
+all around, and perfectly right and proper in every respect, I—oh, I
+should be so happy to go! but though I do not know _why_, indeed, I am
+afraid it is not right.”
+
+“Would _I_ suggest a measure to you, Rosalia, that is not right?” he
+asked, reproachfully.
+
+“No, no—oh, certainly not—I did not mean _that_.” He looked at her
+steadily.
+
+“And yet I don’t know! I don’t know! Why do you look at me so? Why do
+you look at me so—growing beautiful and more beautiful every
+instant—growing bright and brighter until you seem, not a man, but a
+star, a sun flashing into my very _brain_, bewildering, making me dizzy!
+striking me blind with light! Ah! I am delirious again! Save me, Sophie!
+save me, mother!” and with a sharp cry, half laugh, half shriek, she
+fell into his arms. He stooped his head and whispered,
+
+“You are mine, _mine_, MINE! Rosalia, I have manœuvred, intrigued, and
+waited for this hour. I have brought a high heart to the earth, trodden
+a proud heart to the dust, crushed a strong heart to death in pursuit of
+this hour. You are mine, MINE, girl! I have bought you with a price, a
+high price! I have given up country, home, wife, and children; resigned
+integrity, pride, and ambition, and risked fair fame. Ah, God! I pay
+dearly for you, Rosalia!”
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+Three weeks from this day Rosalia sat alone in a private parlor in one
+of the principal hotels in Washington. It was mid-winter, yet the room
+was warm, and she reclined in a snowy white muslin robe upon a crimson
+sofa that was drawn up in front of the glowing coal fire; her head
+rested on her arm upon the end of the lounge. She was changed even in
+these three weeks. The round, elastic rosy cheeks, whose bloom was
+shaded faintly and fairly off towards the transparent and azure veined
+temples, and the snowy chin and brow were changed, all were changed—the
+beautiful faint rose glow that had overspread her lovely baby-face, had
+now withdrawn and collected itself in one burning fever spot in either
+cheek, leaving her brow and temples pallid; and the liquid and floating
+light of her soft blue eyes, had now concentrated in one intense fiery
+spark in the centre of either pupil. Her attitude was still as death,
+yet an air of suppressed excitement was visible in every feature. The
+door opened, and she started up into a sitting position, as Raymond
+Withers entered; _he_ had changed _back again_, having regained all his
+old accustomed ease and eloquence; he wheeled a large easy chair to the
+fire and sank down among its cushions.
+
+“Rosalia, we leave Washington in the Norfolk boat at six o’clock
+to-morrow morning.”
+
+“Have you heard from Hagar?” asked she, faintly.
+
+“No, not a word—she is sulking, never mind her, Rose,” replied he, an
+expression of pain traversing his countenance, nevertheless. “_Why_
+recall her?”
+
+“I do not—she is ever, ever, _ever_ before me! her pale face! oh! pale
+like that of a victim strained upon the rack! I believe Hagar is dead
+and haunts me! Oh, let me go away, Raymond! let me leave you!” and her
+face suddenly grew sharp and white in anguish. He looked at her
+uneasily.
+
+“Rose!”
+
+She raised her eyes to his beautiful and resplendent countenance, and
+her own softened. He went and sat down by her side, and caressing her
+gently, said,
+
+“Rose, dear, I am no kidnapper, no pirate. I will take with me no
+unwilling companion. Speak, Rose, you shall have your will in this.
+Listen, dear, the Arrow steamboat in which we embark to-morrow
+morning, the boat that is to take me to Norfolk where the brig Argus
+awaits to convey me across the Atlantic to my destination on the
+Mediterranean—that boat you will recollect passes immediately by
+Churchill Point—how easy, Rose, to put you ashore there, where you are
+already expected—where Mrs. Buncombe already looks for you with
+impatience.”
+
+Rosalia shook as with an ague fit.
+
+“Where your betrothed, who has, no doubt, already reached there on his
+way to the Rialto, and who, having heard of your hourly expected
+arrival, awaits you with all a lover’s ardor, will meet you with all a
+lover’s enthusiasm—come, what do you say, Rose? come, Rose, come? I have
+a letter to write in which I must be guided by your decision! Come,
+Rose! come! Shall I put you on shore at Churchill Point?”
+
+“_Now_!” she exclaimed, in a tone of bitterest anguish. “_Now!_”
+
+“Well, then go back to the Rialto, return to Hagar.”
+
+“To Hagar!” she gasped, as a sharp spasm convulsed her features. “To
+Hagar! great God! death, _death_ rather.”
+
+He waited until her fearful excitement subsided, and then, while he
+gently and softly caressed and soothed her into quietude, he murmured in
+a low, sedative tone,
+
+“I know it all, dear—I know how utterly impossible it is for you to go
+to either. I only set the plans before you, that you might _feel_ the
+impossibility as deeply as I knew the impracticability of either
+project—and now you _do_ feel it! and now, my gentle dove, be
+quiet—nestle sweetly in the only bosom open to you in the whole world;”
+and he drew her within his arms and kissed away her tears. Presently,
+arising, he said, “Now I must leave you, to write a letter, love.”
+
+And going to his chamber he sat down and penned a short missive to
+Hagar. It was as follows:—
+
+
+                                       INDIAN QUEEN HOTEL,             }
+                                     Washington City, Jan. 22, 182-. }
+
+  Dearest Hagar, mine only one—
+
+  Yes, mine _only_ Hagar—there is but one Hagar, can be but one Hagar in
+  the world—after all. I shall be obliged to disappoint you and myself
+  cruelly, by leaving the country without being able to see you first.
+  The truth is this—for the last three weeks I have been dancing daily
+  attendance between the President’s mansion and the State Department,
+  in daily expectation of receiving my credentials—they were at last
+  placed in my hands only four days ago—and I am to go out in the Argus,
+  that sails from Norfolk within a week; so you see, love, the utter
+  impossibility of our meeting again before my departure—best so,
+  perhaps—I do not like parting scenes. I wrote to you that your cousin,
+  Miss Aguilar, had decided to embrace the opportunity offered by my
+  escort, to go out and rejoin her friends, Captain and Mrs. Wilde. Now,
+  Hagar, do not take any absurd fancies about this, I do implore you. I
+  have taken the greatest care of the _proprieties_, love, I assure you.
+  The day after we arrived in this city, I happened to meet Lieutenant
+  Graves, who was formerly on the store-ship Rainbow with Captain
+  Wilde—we met him there, you will recollect—well, now he is stationed
+  at the Navy Yard in this city, where he has a comfortable private
+  residence, with his wife; he invited me to his house, knowing that his
+  wife had been an almost daily companion of Mrs. Wilde and Miss Aguilar
+  while they were in Boston harbor; I mentioned the presence of Rosalia
+  in this city, and her intention of going out to the Mediterranean
+  under my protection, to rejoin her friends. As I expected, the next
+  day brought Mrs. Graves to our hotel to see Miss Aguilar, whom she
+  invited home with her to spend the weeks of her sojourn in this city;
+  nothing could have been more proper, more conventional, more
+  completely _comme-il-faut_ than this arrangement; nothing could have
+  been more _fortunate_, in fact. I bade Rosalia accept the courtesy,
+  which she did at once, and Mrs. Graves carried Miss Aguilar home,
+  within the walls of the Navy Yard, where she has remained up to this
+  day. This evening Lieutenant Graves brought her back to our hotel,
+  because we leave at a very early hour to-morrow morning. Rosalia is
+  the bearer of many letters and presents from Mrs. Graves to Mrs.
+  Wilde. All right. Now, Hagar, again—indulge no absurd fancies about
+  this! Do not make me savage! you have not answered any of my
+  letters—are you putting on airs, mistress? Well, you will get out of
+  them. I am exasperated into writing sharply to you, by knowing
+  instinctively what you will think, how you will feel, perhaps what you
+  will _say_; but hold there, Hagar. Do not make me a by-word, by giving
+  language to your suspicions. Whatever may be the broodings of your
+  insanity, do not let it break forth in ravings that will subject us to
+  calumny. You know my fastidiousness upon this point—please remember
+  it, Hagar; and remember, _too_, that your eccentricities and wildness
+  leave your sanity _questionable_ to some minds; that your jealousies
+  will be the _ravings of madness, and that mad women are not to be
+  trusted at large, or with the care of children_! So, for your own
+  sake, Hagar—for the sake of all you hold most dear, be reasonable,
+  cautious, and calm. It distresses me to write to you so, love, just
+  upon the eve of my departure, but you are _so_ crazy—and I want you to
+  try and retain the possession of your senses. Rouse yourself, love! go
+  into society, cultivate and indulge all your favorite tastes;
+  repurchase your little Arabian, and be again the gay, glad Hagar you
+  were at the Heath; cultivate your music, give concerts, in which you
+  shall be the prima donna—collect a congenial circle around
+  you—purchase all your favorite books, and everything that suits your
+  fancy—exhaust the little fund I have in bank, and let me know when it
+  is gone. When you are weary of everything else, go and visit Mrs.
+  Buncombe, at Churchill Point. Come, love, you have enough to occupy
+  you during my absence. Take care of the babies. Rosalia sends her love
+  to you—you know her aversion to writing, or any other work that
+  requires mental application, and will therefore excuse her. Do _you_
+  write to me immediately—direct your letters to Port Mahon, and send
+  them through the State Department. Why do you _not_ write to me?”
+
+
+In an hour from the moment of closing and mailing his letter, Raymond
+Withers placed Rosalia in a hack, drove to the steamboat-wharf, and
+embarked upon the Arrow, which left for Norfolk the next morning at six.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXXIII.
+                             THE DESOLATED.
+
+          “Thou knowest well what once I was to thee;
+          One who for love of one I loved—_for thee!_—
+          Would have done, or borne the sins of all the world;
+          Who did thy bidding at thy lightest look;
+          And had it been to have snatched an angel’s crown
+          Off her bright brow as she sat singing, throned,
+          I would have cut these heart-strings that tie down
+          My soul, and let it sail to Heaven to do it—
+          ’Spite of the thunder and the sacrilege,
+          And laid it at thy feet. I loved thee, lady!
+          I am one whose love is greater than the world’s,
+          And might have vied with God’s; a boundless ring,
+          All pressing on one point—that point, thy heart.
+          ——But, for the future,
+          I will as soon attempt to entice a star
+          To perch upon my finger, or the wind
+          To follow me like a dog, as think to keep
+          A woman’s heart again.”
+                                              FESTUS
+
+
+“Well, just once more, mother!”
+
+“But this is expensive and inconvenient, please to remember, Mr. Gusty,
+and we are not rich.”
+
+“Not rich—oh! mother, I wish you would take something from _me_—which
+you never will.”
+
+“No, Gusty, I had rather be extravagant with my own funds than with
+yours. I wish you to accumulate property, Gusty—that is to say only
+_this_—spend as little of your limited income as possible, lay by the
+balance until you get enough to purchase a piece of land and build a
+house. I do think that every young man should do that—I mean every young
+man with a fixed salary—of course men engaged in commerce may use their
+money to better advantage by investing it in trade. But, oh, Gusty, I do
+wish to see you have a house of your own so much; a home that you can
+improve and beautify to your own taste; and I do wish to see your
+Rosalia presiding over it. Come and kiss me, dear Gusty! dear fellow,
+don’t you think that I sympathize with your hopes?”
+
+Gusty laughingly sprang to his mother, and catching her around the neck,
+kissed her uproariously, saying—
+
+“_Ah, mais, maman maligne_, you will not make a feast for Rose, this
+evening!”
+
+“Oh! but, Gusty, see here! we have been making feasts every evening for
+a week past, and she has not come to eat them—and may not come this
+evening—and, Gusty, besides, if I take this little bride of yours here,
+and wish to keep her for four or five years, to save some hundred
+dollars of your salary annually, I must not make her too expensive to
+Buncombe. Dear Buncombe, he is so wise! so good! and so unobtrusive in
+his wisdom and goodness—I have already too much overlooked his interests
+and comfort in my economies and sacrifices for you and Rosalia—I must”—
+
+Up sprang Gusty, exclaiming—
+
+“If I thought that, mother, my honor”—
+
+“Is _safe_ in your mother’s keeping, Gusty, believe that.”
+
+“But, mother!”
+
+“Come, Gusty, nonsense—no high points of honor with the woman that
+brought you into the world, or with her husband either—Buncombe suffers
+many privations that you know nothing of, and could not sympathize with,
+if you did know—he wants certain books, scientific and mathematical
+instruments, &c., that he can never purchase, because he spills his
+money all over the parish; lavishing his slender means upon the poor,
+instead of influencing the rich to relieve them from their ample
+store—for Buncombe can give, but he cannot beg, even for others—that
+requires a high moral heroism in a sensitive heart like his. I have had
+to pick his pockets before he goes out, every day, else they would come
+home empty. He never economizes; never thinks of expense—not he—and when
+Rosalia is seated by our fireside, he will never think whether she costs
+us a hundred cents or a hundred dollars a year—the blessed
+soul!—nonsense, Gusty,” said she, with tears in her eyes, “you will
+break my heart if you get upon your dignity with Buncombe.”
+
+“Getting upon my impertinence, it would be, mother,” said Gusty,
+seriously, “only—well!—yes, I am sure, mother, I can leave it all to
+you—must do it, in fact—for until my marriage, I have no right to
+object, and after my marriage, there is no place where I would leave
+Rosalia but here with you; and if you will not receive any compensation,
+it cannot be helped for the present.”
+
+“You must appreciate Mr. Buncombe, Gusty!”
+
+“Oh! I _do_, mother, I _do_! I think he is an admirable—Crichton, or
+Christian—which is it, mother?—I do, indeed—I really do—your
+appreciation and affection endears him, mother! But now, mother, indeed
+it is almost four o’clock, and there is no certainty about these evening
+boats—they pass any time between five and ten—come, mother, tell Kitty
+to make a nice little supper, and not to forget the rice cakes, with
+honey sauce, that Rose likes, and then, mother, get your shawl and muff,
+and _do_ come along with me to the cliff, to watch for the boat—come,
+mother, oh, _do_ come!”
+
+Emily arose with a smile and a sigh.
+
+“Mothers with marriageable daughters make heavy complaints—the
+egotists!—but a mother with a marriageable son—a great loblolly boy, in
+love, who is always melting over her!—has not _she_ a trial? As for
+those rice cakes, Mr. Gusty, they are very well once in a long time, but
+we have had them prepared every week for your Rosalia, who has not
+appeared to partake of them; and we have had to eat them all up
+ourselves, to keep them from being wasted, and we are all getting the
+dyspepsia, and I am losing my complexion from indigestion, and whatever
+you may think, I assure you, Master Gusty, that I value the beauty of my
+complexion for the sake of my good man, quite as much, and perhaps more
+than your Rosalia values hers, for the sake of you—and as for this trip
+to the beach, Master Gusty, every afternoon, through the cold, and over
+the snow, it does not help to counteract the ill effects of the cakes
+quite as much as I could wish, because, Master Gusty, I have to stand
+upon the wet beach, in the current of wind too long, Master Gusty—and
+so, Master Gusty, you will please to be a trifle more reasonable in your
+love, if love and reason ever can coalesce in you—but, however, Master
+Gusty, I will once more take cakes and cold for your sake,” and going
+out into the kitchen, she gave the necessary orders, and returned
+enveloped in a large hood, shawl, and muff. Gusty buttoned up his great
+coat, and they set out. The walk from Grove Cottage to the promontory
+was rather long. The afternoon was clear, bright, and cold, and the
+snow, slightly crusted, crackled under their feet as they pursued their
+way towards the cliff. They reached its summit, and stood upon the
+extreme point of the peak. Emily took out her watch to note the time,
+gaily grumbling at its waste, while her son adjusted his
+pocket-telescope, and took sight up the river.
+
+“It is five o’clock, Gusty, and nearly dark besides, or would be, if it
+were not for the full moon, helping the twilight.”
+
+“It is coming, mother—the boat is coming!” exclaimed Gusty, still
+keeping his telescope pointed up the river. “It is the Arrow, mother, I
+can see the name.”
+
+The boat bore down rapidly. They turned to descend the steep and
+slippery sides of the cliff, and stood upon the frozen beach as the boat
+flew swiftly on. His heart paused as it neared—stood still as it passed.
+Let _me_ pause here. Reader, notice this party on the cold beach, and
+now cast a magician’s glance into the cabin of the boat that is passing.
+In a small state room opening from that cabin, upon the floor by the
+side of the berth, kneels Rosalia Aguilar, with her face pressed down
+upon the pillow, with the ends of the pillow held up against her head,
+to shut out every sight and sound of the shore and home she is passing,
+which is yet distinctly and fearfully present to her mind’s eye and ear.
+She sees the village, the dividing river, the heath, with its forest in
+the background; the promontory, the old Hall, with its broken garden
+wall and poplar trees; lastly, the beach, and the party on the beach.
+Emily and Gusty—she knows, she feels, that they are there waiting
+her—she knows, she feels, that they were there yesterday, and that they
+will be there to-morrow. She knows, she feels, how they will both wait
+and wonder—how one will sicken and suffer with “hope deferred”—and ah!
+reverting to another home upon the banks of a Northern river,—another
+desolated home, desolated by herself, she sees _another_ bleeding heart
+and burning brain, as she presses the pillow closer about her ears to
+shut out sights and sounds that her spirit-eyes and ears must see and
+hear—how long? Rosalia was not one to enjoy a single hour’s impunity in
+singing—yet she went on.
+
+Behold the insanity of passion that, through all the accumulating
+anguish of remorse, perseveres in sin!
+
+The boat has passed.
+
+“Again, mother!” exclaimed Gusty, with a look of deep disappointment.
+
+“Yes, and again many times, perhaps, my dear boy! Something detains her;
+perhaps we shall hear by to-night’s mail,” and they turned to leave the
+cliff.
+
+Gusty saw his mother home, and, without stopping to take supper, hurried
+off to Churchill Point, to await the arrival of the evening’s mail. He
+returned in two hours—there was no letter. The next night, and the next,
+and every night for a week longer, Emily and her son watched for Rosalia
+in vain. The mail came in twice a week, and every mail-day Gusty was
+waiting a letter at the post-office, and Emily waiting him at home. At
+last, one night, Gusty hurried in with a letter. Throwing it in his
+mother’s lap, he exclaimed,
+
+“It is for _you_; open it quick, mother, do; there is something odd
+about it; a letter addressed in Raymond Withers’s hand, and postmarked
+Norfolk. What can it mean? Do read it, mother!”
+
+Emily glanced her eyes over it, while Gusty stood pawing and champing in
+his impatience. It was merely a formal announcement from Raymond Withers
+of the change in Miss Aguilar’s plans; of her determination to go out
+under his protection and rejoin Captain Wilde and Sophie, &c., &c. Emily
+handed him the letter in silence, and watched him as he read it. Fearful
+was the picture of passion presented by Gusty! his bosom heaved in
+fierce convulsions—the blood rushed to his head, his face grew scarlet,
+the veins on his temples and forehead swelled like cords, his teeth
+ground together, his eyes glared and flashed. Crushing the letter in his
+hand, he raised it above his head, threw it hard upon the floor, set his
+foot upon the paper as though he would grind it to powder, and strode up
+and down the room shaking his clenched fist, gnashing his teeth, and
+exclaiming, as he foamed at the mouth,
+
+“Villain! wretch! dastard! God! oh, God! that months, that days, that
+even _minutes_ should pass before my heel is on his neck! my sword’s
+point in his heart!”
+
+Amazed, alarmed at his terrible excitement, Emily followed him up and
+down the room.
+
+“Gusty! dear Gusty! in the name of Heaven sit down—be calm!”
+
+But, foaming and shaking, Gusty did not heed, or even hear her.
+
+“If I had him here! If I had him here, with my foot upon his chest, my
+hands around his throat—he would be but as a reed in my grasp—a fox’s
+cub in a lion’s claws! Oh! if I had him here beneath my feet! _Oh!_ if I
+had him here! _Oh!_ if I could get at him now! _Why_ can I not clear the
+distance between us at a bound!—spring upon him! bear him down to the
+ground!—God! oh, God! I shall dash my desperate brains out before I can
+get at him!”
+
+Emily had sunk pale and trembling into her chair, quite overwhelmed by
+his frightful passion, while, like a man in a fit of hydrophobia, like a
+maniac in the height of his phrensy, like a wild beast maddened in his
+cage, he raved, and shook, and foamed!
+
+Passions, like tempests, by their own fury, soon exhaust themselves.
+Fits of passion, in some natures, spend their last fury in tears as the
+storm passes off in rain. He raged until the exasperating image of
+Raymond Withers was replaced by the subduing form of Rosalia, and anger
+was drowned in sorrow for the time. He dropped heavily upon the sofa,
+and burying his face in its large cushions, sobbed—yes, _sobbed_—
+
+“Rosalia! Oh, _Rose_, _Rose_!”
+
+Emily, much wondering at, and alarmed by, the great degree of emotion
+raised by a seemingly insufficient cause, arose, and tottering, came and
+sat beside him. He remained unconscious of her presence. She sat there
+half an hour, waiting for him to look up, before he seemed to observe
+her; at length he turned over, and revealed a face pale and ghastly, as
+by a recent fit of illness. He looked up, with an appeal for sympathy
+straining through his bloodshot eyes, piercing up to the gentle face of
+his mother.
+
+“In the name of Heaven, now, Gusty, what _does_ all this mean?” she
+inquired, anxiously.
+
+“_Mean_, mother! Ah, Heaven! _yes_, what does it mean!”
+
+“Surely, Gusty, it is extravagant to manifest all this frightful passion
+at this disappointment. I own that it was rather unkind in Rosalia to go
+off to Sophie when we were expecting her, and that it was thoughtless in
+Raymond to omit writing until the last hour, very thoughtless; but”—
+
+“Thought_less_! the calculating, forecasting demon! it was just the
+contrary—it was thought_ful_ of him!”
+
+“What do you mean, Gusty?”
+
+Could he reveal to her the fearful light that had broken upon _his_
+mind? the terrible truth that had overwhelmed him? Oh, no! at least not
+now; he remained silent, and she continued to misunderstand him. She
+went on to say—
+
+“Your disappointment blinds you—makes you unjust, Gusty; it was
+thoughtlessness, or much occupation, that prevented Raymond Withers from
+writing, to give you an opportunity of seeing Rosalia before their
+departure; and for the rest, if you can only get over the present
+disappointment, this arrangement will be better for your _pleasure_,
+whatever it may be for your purse; for look you, Gusty: suppose Rose had
+really come, as she promised, and you had married her, and, at the
+expiration of your leave of absence, left her here, as arranged; you
+would have spent only a fortnight with her, and then been separated from
+her for two or three years. Now, by this new plan, you are for the
+present disappointed, but then you will soon go out, meet her and be
+near her all the time. Nonsense, dear Gusty! You have nothing really to
+regret.”
+
+And so, in her happy blindness, she continued to talk to the despairing
+boy before her; and so, uninterruptedly, he let her talk on, while he
+lay there with his hands clasped upon his corrugated brow. At last,
+aroused by the laughing and crowing of a wakening baby in the next room,
+she went and brought her little girl out and sat down with her by
+Gusty’s side, thinking the glee of the babe, of whom he was very fond,
+would enliven him. On the contrary he became very much agitated.
+Presently he said—
+
+“Mother, dear, if it will not be too much inconvenience, put a shirt or
+two, and a pair of socks, &c., into my valise; I’m off by the morning’s
+boat for the North.”
+
+“Why, Gusty!”
+
+“Dear mother, _yes_!—I must see Hagar!”
+
+“Why must you?”
+
+“I _want_ to see her, mother—_must_ see her! I am _anxious_ about her!”
+
+“Anxious about her?”
+
+“Yes, _very_ anxious!”
+
+“And why are you so?”
+
+Without replying, Gusty arose and walked the floor with his arms folded
+and his chin bowed upon his breast.
+
+“What makes you so anxious to see Hagar, Gusty?”
+
+He paused, and looked perplexed for a few minutes, then suddenly
+replied—
+
+“Is it not natural that I should wish to see Hagar after so long an
+absence?”
+
+“But it is not so long an absence, and your resolution is so sudden.”
+
+“Well, besides, mother, finding now that it is useless to try to see
+Rosalia—for that was a ship-letter dated at Hampton Roads, and brought
+in by the pilot, you know—I wish to dissipate my chagrin, mother; is not
+that natural?”
+
+“Oh, yes! Well, I suppose you do,” said Emily.
+
+The next morning, early, Gusty May set out for the Rialto.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXIV.
+                                CHANGES.
+
+                            “When sorrows come,
+            They come not single spies but in battalions.”
+                                                SHAKSPEARE.
+
+          “An eagle with a broken wing,
+          A harp with many a broken string.”
+                                              SYBIL’S LEAVES.
+
+
+From Lieutenant Augustus May to Mrs. Emily Buncombe.
+
+
+                                       “THE RIALTO, February 21st, 182-.
+
+  “DEAREST MOTHER:—Come to Hagar. Yes, come. Whatever you may have in
+  hand, put it down, pack up, and come to Hagar. You will do so when I
+  have told you all I have to tell you—alas! the worst you will not know
+  until you reach this place. I arrived at —— on the 15th of the current
+  month, early in the morning, and proceeded at once to The Rialto,
+  reached the house at about eleven o’clock, was ushered into the
+  drawing-room, and inquired after the health of the family. I was told
+  by the servant who admitted me, that Mrs. Withers had been extremely
+  ill for the last six weeks, but that she was now better, and able to
+  leave her room. I sent up to know if she could receive me—the man
+  returning told me that Mrs. Withers would be down in a few minutes.
+  Well, mother! I waited perhaps half an hour, at the end of which time
+  the door opened, and a figure—as Heaven hears me, mother, I did not
+  recognise it for Hagar! the once elegant and brilliant Hagar! a figure
+  shrouded in a black wrapper, with the hair all pushed back under a
+  sharp cornered muslin cap, that marked the outline of a countenance
+  never to be forgotten!—the pallid forehead was doubled in a dark fold
+  between the eye-brows, and above eyes strained out into such startling
+  and piercing brightness, that I shuddered and dropped my gaze before
+  them! she came on slowly, trembling, tottering, and sank into a chair,
+  in such utter feebleness; she attempted to speak, to greet me, but the
+  words died on her white lips. To see Hagar thus! our beautiful,
+  resplendent Hagar! our strong, proud, exultant Hagar! Mother, I have
+  seen death in all its phases, the soldier struck down in battle, the
+  criminal swung off from the yardarm, the old man give up the ghost in
+  his bed, and the infant fall into its last sleep in its mother’s arms,
+  yet I never realized DEATH; never! until I saw this high soul brought
+  low, this fiery soul quenched, this eagle of the sun lying wounded on
+  the earth, weltering in blood and dust. My proud sister Hagar! my
+  high-souled Hagar! would that I had suffered alone! would that I could
+  have died to have saved her! You do not comprehend her grief, or my
+  deep sympathy, mother—alas! you will understand it but too well
+  by-and-bye. Oh! well, I went to her, sat beside her, took her hand—I
+  felt that I was her brother—I pitied her, loved her, would have
+  soothed her, caressed her as when she was a little girl; but with a
+  haggard look and an adjuring gesture she repelled me, as she murmured,
+  in a hollow, church-yard voice, ‘I have been ill—ill.’ ‘I know it,
+  dearest Hagar; dearest sister, I know it all—everything—I am a fellow
+  sufferer, but no matter for that; what is my grief to your great
+  sorrow! Hagar, I am your friend—your brother for life and to death! I
+  will do anything you wish me to do—I am at your command—I will even
+  throw up my commission and come and live near you, if, by doing so, I
+  can be of any use to you. Yes, Hagar, I will do that, even if I have
+  to mend clocks for a living.’ She looked at me and faltered a reply;
+  but, oh! the words fell from her ashen lips unnatural and
+  unintelligible, like those from an automaton, and few as they were,
+  they seemed to have exhausted the small remnant of her strength, for
+  she sank back in her chair in a swoon. I flew to the bell and rung it
+  violently, and Mrs. Collins came in—seeing the state of Hagar, she
+  immediately summoned a female domestic, and bore her back to her
+  chamber. I followed them up stairs. I could not, would not stay away.
+  I followed them into her room—saw them lay her upon her bed—waited
+  until they had recovered her—saw her open her eyes, and then, and not
+  till then, I withdrew and left her to repose. She was worse the next
+  morning—the agitation occasioned by our interview had caused a
+  relapse—and, mother, that very next day, the day succeeding my
+  arrival, while she lay at the point of death, _an execution_ was
+  brought into the house, and everything swept off! all that splendid
+  furniture, together with the valuable library, and rare collections of
+  pictures, statuary, and virtue accumulated by the late General
+  Raymond—all went! I repurchased the furniture of her suite of private
+  apartments; but she shall not know that; she will naturally think, and
+  I shall permit her to think, that they were spared by creditors—and,
+  mother, if you come on here, take care that you do not undeceive her.
+  It seems that for the last two years, Mr. Raymond Withers—curse him!
+  has been living far above his income, and that as soon as his
+  creditors knew him to have left the country, they came down upon his
+  property. Hagar does not yet know the new misfortune that has fallen
+  upon her, as she was lying insensible when the sheriff’s officer took
+  the inventory of her bed-chamber, and I took the precaution that none
+  of its furniture should be disturbed. Mother, come quickly to Hagar.
+  The servants are all leaving the house, because there is no money to
+  pay them their wages. I have exceeded my furlough. I do not know what
+  will be the consequence, and cannot help it. I am cited to appear
+  before a court martial—cannot do it, of course. The devil himself
+  would not leave Hagar in her present situation. Thank God! I have got
+  a few thousand dollars in bank, and that will keep the wolf from
+  Hagar’s door for some years to come, any how! Oh, mother! do come
+  quickly. Hagar is still confined to her bed—she wants a lady with
+  her—a friend with her. Mrs. Collins, the housekeeper, and Barnes, the
+  nurse, leave at the first of March; that is close at hand, so do not
+  delay.
+
+                                              Your affectionate son,
+                                                      “AUGUSTUS W. MAY.”
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+From Mrs. Buncombe to Lieutenant May.
+
+
+                                        “GROVE COTTAGE, March 1st, 182-.
+
+  “You are mad, unlucky boy! I have just this moment got your letter—and
+  I am exactly horrified to death at its contents. Gusty! is this the
+  way in which you repay all my care of you? Return immediately to your
+  post, as you value my blessing. Do you not know, wretched boy, that
+  you run the risk of having your commission taken from you? Do you not
+  know, oh! dolt of a child, that you will be scandalized to death, if
+  you remain a day where you are? and all the servants leaving the
+  house, too! Oh, Heavens, Gusty! am _I_ who never risked the chance of
+  a breath of calumny, am _I_ now to suffer through the imprudence of my
+  son? What would your blessed father say if he were here to know of
+  this? If you have not already left the house, leave it immediately on
+  the receipt of this letter. I _command_ you, Gusty! return to your
+  post, and write me that you have done so, as you value my blessing,
+  Gusty! Nay, dear Gusty, I withdraw the command; I have no right to
+  make it to a grown up man—and, I _entreat_, Gusty, that you will
+  return immediately to your post, as you value my peace, Gusty.
+
+  “As to my coming to Hagar, it is not possible just now; Buncombe has
+  the rheumatism, and baby is cutting her eye-teeth; besides which,
+  Kitty has scalded her hand so badly as to be nearly useless—so that
+  you see I am the sole dependence of the family.
+
+  “As for Hagar’s anguish, it is as inexplicable as your past fury was.
+  I can well imagine her regret at parting with her husband, but as for
+  the rest, it is all mystery, and you know it has been said by them of
+  old time, that where there is mystery it is fair to presume guilt, or
+  at least some grave error. This unhappy Hagar had ever possessed the
+  unenviable gift of drawing down upon her head the ban of society—but
+  she must not pull others down with her. It is all inexplicable to me—I
+  do not understand it in the least; but I fear all is not right. Write
+  to me immediately, Gusty, and tell me that you are off. I am so uneasy
+  that I have no appetite for my dinner.
+
+                                  “Your anxious and affectionate mother,
+                                                      “EMILY BUNCOMBE.”
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mr. May to Mrs. Buncombe.
+
+
+                                           “THE RIALTO, March 7th, 182-.
+
+  “DEAR MOTHER:—I received your letter to-day. I am here yet, you see.
+  In all things that are right I will obey you always, if I get as big
+  as Goliath and old as Methuselah. But! when I forsake Hagar in her
+  utmost need, may God forsake me then and for ever Amen—so be it.
+  Selah. Hagar is still too ill to leave her room; still ignorant of the
+  execution. Collins, Barnes, and the rest have left the house—_all_
+  have left except a maid-of-all-work, whose wages _I_ have engaged to
+  pay. A second execution at the suit of another creditor has been
+  levied, and a second time I have had to redeem from confiscation, the
+  furniture of her rooms. As soon as Hagar is able to travel, I must get
+  her away from this; I cannot stay here for ever, paying that infernal
+  fellow’s debts, as I am now obliged to do, to keep poor Hagar from
+  being shocked to death.
+
+  “Well, mother! it is as you feared—I am cashiered! dismissed the
+  service! Well, what of it? The service has lost more than I have, by
+  the arrangement! The service has lost a gallant officer! a noble
+  fellow! a whole hearted man! _I_ say it! Moreover, they cannot cashier
+  my bones and muscles, my heart and brain, my faith, hope, and energy!
+  Besides, the blow Rosalia dealt me, has stunned, numbed me into a sort
+  of insensibility to all wounds inflicted upon myself. I am vulnerable
+  now only through Hagar.
+
+  “Well, I am cashiered! Grieve for the service, mother! not for me.
+
+                                              Your affectionate son,
+                                                      “AUGUSTUS W. MAY.”
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mr. May to Mrs. Buncombe.
+
+
+                                                “THE RIALTO, March 14th.
+
+  “DEAR MOTHER:—I wrote to you a week ago, but I cannot await your
+  answer, as I am in great haste. In naming this homestead ‘The Rialto,’
+  I presume they merely had an allusion to its locality above the
+  river—but it is appropriate in its sadder association, too. This is,
+  indeed, a ‘bridge of sighs.’ The house was sold to-day for taxes. Poor
+  Hagar is up at last—but oh! such a wreck; her beautiful hair that I
+  thought concealed under her cap, has been all cut off. She bears her
+  new trials better than I expected. Like me, her one great sorrow has
+  rendered her insensible to minor griefs. She wishes to return to her
+  own home, Heath Hall. It is upon this matter that I write to you. Do,
+  mother, have it made comfortable for her reception. She has sold all
+  her own jewels to defray the expenses of her journey. There is a
+  balance to the credit of Raymond Withers—perdition catch his soul!—at
+  the bank, but Hagar will not draw it. Prepare to receive the stricken
+  one kindly, mother, I entreat you, as you value my peace, mother!
+
+                                                  Your affectionate son,
+                                                          “A. W. MAY.”
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXV.
+                              THE RETURN.
+
+                         “Oh! if indeed to _part_
+           With the soul’s loved ones be a bitter thing,
+           When we go forth in buoyancy of heart,
+           And bearing all the glories of our spring,
+                         Is it less so to _meet_
+           When these are withered? Who shall call it sweet?”
+                                               HEMANS.
+
+
+The 20th of March, 182-, was a day to be remembered for the terrible
+storm of wind, snow, and hail that visited the earth, and raged through
+these latitudes all that tremendous day and night!
+
+It was in the height of this furious tempest, that a packet might _not_
+have been seen as it toiled against wind and tide, on its way down
+Chesapeake Bay,—might _not_ have been seen, for it was as difficult to
+_see_ through the dense fall of snow, as it was to _breathe_ against the
+driving, piercing sleet that struck into every pore of the skin and
+thorax like millions of needle points.
+
+Could you have discerned that packet boat through the shrouds of falling
+snow, you would have looked upon a bark apparently carved in ice. The
+deck was blocked up with drifting snow, freezing as it fell, and still
+increasing against all the efforts of the crew. The masts struck up like
+shafts of ice, between which the crossing ropes formed a crystal
+lattice-work. The sails were stiff, stark, and glittering with sleet.
+And all—ropes, masts, and sails, grew thicker every instant,—losing
+their distinctness of form as the snow fell fast, congealing on them,
+until the bark seemed the nucleus of an avalanche, or the skeleton upon
+which the body of an iceberg was being formed.
+
+The cabin of that little packet was small, deep, and dark, and lighted
+even in the day by a tiny lamp nailed against the wall. In this low
+cabin, by the side of the narrow coffin-like berth, sat a pale and
+ghastly little woman, clothed in a black dress and simple cap, whom you
+would never recognise to be Hagar. Upon the berth lay two sleeping
+infants, of nearly twelve months old. She leans heavily with both elbows
+upon the side of the berth, and supports her drooping head upon her
+hands. She has sat thus for hours, while the tempest has raged above and
+around her. She will probably sit there for hours longer unless the
+children wake, or some one enters to rouse her from her dreamy trance.
+She does not hear the howling wind, though it beats among the ice-bound
+and rattling sails and ropes, a thundering accompaniment to its fierce
+song. She does not see the snow, though it has nearly blocked up the
+narrow gangway leading down into her cabin. She does not feel the
+penetrating and piercing cold, though her hands are purple, stiff, and
+numb. Towards the evening, Gusty May entered the cabin.
+
+“How are you now, Hagar, and how are the children?” inquired he, coming
+up to her side.
+
+She did not seem to see or hear him. He repeated his question earnestly.
+She raised her pallid brow and straining glance, and answered,
+mechanically,—
+
+“Well—we are well.”
+
+“Do the children fatigue you, Hagar? You look so weary; why do you not
+call me to help to take care of them when they tire you?”
+
+“They never tire me,” replied Hagar.
+
+“Have they brought you any dinner, Hagar? I really do not believe they
+have. No!—and your fire has been suffered to go out, while I have been
+on deck all day helping to work the vessel or clear the deck. What a
+thing it is to see a poor, dear sick girl, with two children, on the
+water in such a scuttled tub as this bark, without even a female
+attendant!”
+
+So lamenting, Gusty bustled about, replenished the fire, and going to a
+locker, brought out a glass of cordial and a cracker, which he compelled
+her to swallow, saying,
+
+“It is a ‘round, unvarnished’ truth that, if I were not here to kindle
+your fire and to hold a morsel to your lips, you would starve to death,
+Hagar! I wonder how long this dreadful apathy is going to last!”
+
+Then setting away the glass and plate, he went to shovelling away the
+snow from the gangway.
+
+“Passengers for Heath Hall!” sang out a voice from above.
+
+Gusty dropped the shovel and rushed up on deck. Hagar, her children, and
+himself, were certainly the only passengers for Heath Hall. After an
+absence of five minutes he returned.
+
+“Hagar! rouse yourself, now, dear Hagar, and answer me; we are nearly
+opposite to _Heath Hall_!”
+
+The sound of that name was sufficient to arouse her.
+
+“Speak on, Gusty, I am neither dead, deaf, asleep, nor crazy, Gusty,
+though I must often seem to you to be one or the other. Well, what were
+you saying about Heath Hall?”
+
+“We are nearly opposite to the promontory, Hagar, and we must now go
+ashore, or keep on down the bay to the Capes.”
+
+“Oh, go on shore by all means! What suggested the other alternative?”
+
+“What? Poor thing, you know nothing! It is a frightful night to go on
+shore, Hagar. We stand out a mile from the land, and cannot even see the
+shore through thick and driving hail and sleet. Then, the beach must be
+covered knee-deep with snow, and the ascent to the promontory nearly
+impracticable from ice—that is to say, for _you_, Hagar.”
+
+“For _me_—you forget, Gusty, overwhelmed, as you see me, by mental
+troubles, you know that I am nearly invincible before physical ills and
+obstacles. I can see my way through the darkest night that ever shrouded
+earth—keep my footing firm in the ascent of the most slippery and
+dangerous precipice in the world. Thank God! my physical powers are not
+destroyed yet.”
+
+“You are feeling better—your spirits are rising, Hagar.”
+
+“Oh, they are, they are, to be under the shadow of my old Hall again! I
+think that I shall no sooner step upon my native heath, than I shall
+feel life and spirits strike up through my feet, filling my whole frame
+with strength and power.”
+
+“Passengers for Heath Hall, get ready,” yelled a voice from the deck.
+
+“Come, Hagar, get the children and yourself ready quickly, while I see
+the trunks lowered to the skiff.”
+
+“But, oh! these children! these children! after all, perhaps we had
+better stay here, than expose _them_ to the storm.”
+
+“They shall not suffer from exposure to the storm; _I_ will carry the
+babies, and take care of that—so if you think that you can get along and
+keep your footing ascending the cliff, we had better go ashore
+notwithstanding all I have said; for it threatens to be a horrible
+night, and God Almighty only knows what may be the fate of the packet
+before day.”
+
+Hagar said no more, and Gusty left the cabin. Hagar wrapped her children
+up in their little warm light blankets and long cloaks, and then put on
+her own close travelling dress, and had scarcely completed her
+preparations when Gusty came down again, and assisted her with the
+children by taking charge of one while she insisted on keeping the other
+on deck. And what a deck it was! She toiled up the gangway knee-deep in
+snow, while the sharp and driving sleet cut into her face, nearly
+blinding and smothering her; it was almost impossible to see a foot in
+advance; in an instant her whole dress was covered white and stiff with
+snow, that froze as it fell. It was only her warm breath that kept mouth
+and nostrils free for breathing, and saved her from a freezing
+suffocation. Gusty kept hold of one hand; drawing her through the
+snow-drifts beneath, and the falling avalanche of sleet around, he
+guided her to the edge of the vessel, lowered the two children half
+smothered in their wrappings, to the oarsmen in the skiff, handed Hagar
+down, and descended after her; while the sleet whirling thick around
+them threatened to convert the little boat with its freight into a huge
+snowball. The two oarsmen pulled swiftly through the white tempest for
+the shore—providentially wind and tide were in their favor; they soon
+reached the beach—but, oh! what a howling wilderness of a shore it was
+upon this tremendous night! On their left the promontory, like some huge
+ice-peak of the arctic regions, loomed horribly through storm and
+darkness; while towards the right the white shore stretched away in a
+dim horizontal line—a half-guessed vague terror like the shores of the
+frozen ocean seen through the night. Using their oars as poles they
+pushed the boat through the rushing water and crusted ice, and landed it
+upon the beach immediately under the promontory. Pausing a moment to
+gather breath after their great exertions, the two men took each of them
+a child, and Gusty drew Hagar’s frost-crusted arm within his own, and
+they stepped from the boat, and struggled on through the deep snow and
+against the driving storm to the little fishing-house against the side
+of the promontory. The wind and sleet were in their face, blowing from
+behind the other side of the promontory. As they toiled on towards it
+they found the snow less and less deep, until coming under its cover
+they trod upon bare though frozen ground, and reaching the fishing-house
+found it perfectly dry, as the ground was for many yards around it; a
+better protected place than was the cabin of the ship they had left.
+Taking away the prop that fastened the door, they entered. The men stood
+holding the children. Hagar dropped upon an upturned fishing-tub; while
+Gusty, taking a small wax candle and tinder-box from the pocket of his
+great coat, struck a light, and holding it about surveyed the premises,
+as the men, giving the children to Hagar, returned to the boat to fetch
+the trunks. It was a small but tight and well-finished, weather-proof
+little place, built against the side of the promontory of rocks cut from
+its bosom; the walls were plastered, the floor paved, and an ample
+fire-place on the right of the entrance, faced a large window on the
+left. It had been built as a place of deposit for fishing tackle, and as
+a kitchen for dressing the freshly caught fish, crabs, and oysters, when
+the Churchills varied their hospitality by an improvised fish feast upon
+the beach.
+
+Gusty surveyed the capabilities of the place, poked the candle and his
+nose into holes and corners, among broken fishing-rods, old
+flag-baskets, staves of fallen down tubs, footless pots, and topless
+kettles, &c., and then sticking the candle against the side of the
+chimney, he collected some of the old flag-baskets, and breaking them
+up, piled them in the fire-place and set fire to them—they blazed and
+roared delightfully up the chimney, diffusing agreeable light and
+warmth. Then drawing a rude stool to the chimney-corner, and going up to
+Hagar, he took the two children from her arms, and told her to pull off
+her snow-covered riding habit and sit there. She did so, and held out
+her arms to receive the children back. He set them in her lap, and going
+to the pile of staves, brought and threw them on the burning embers of
+the flag-baskets, making a great fire, whose light glowed all over the
+small room, heating it pleasantly. Then he hung up her riding habit to
+dry, and digging out an old tea-kettle from the pile of rubbish, he
+clapped his hat upon his head and went out to fill it at a spring that
+bubbled from the rock by the side of the house; returning he set it on
+the fire, just as the voices of the men were heard approaching the
+cabin. They came in, each with a large trunk upon his shoulder, and
+bearing another by the handles between them. They came in and setting
+down their burdens prepared to depart and return to the packet—but
+Gusty, with a gesture, detained them, as he knelt at the side of one of
+the trunks, and opening it, took out a bottle of brandy, some spices,
+and a mug, and gave “something to protect them against suffering through
+the inclemency of the weather.”
+
+They then departed, leaving Gusty, Hagar, and the children, sole
+occupants of the cabin.
+
+“It is vain to think of trying to reach the Hall to-night, Hagar,” said
+Gusty, as he pulled off his greatcoat and hung it near the fire to thaw
+and dry. “And we must just stay here till morning,” he continued, and
+turning a tub bottom upwards he drew it up to the fire and seated
+himself, watching and tending the kettle as it progressed towards
+boiling. “If the men could possibly have stopped and lent us their
+assistance in carrying the children, I might have helped you, and—but,
+no! even then it would have been impossible on this frightful night! We
+should have got lost, and floundered about in snow-drifts until morning,
+if we had not perished before then; the snow is so much deeper than I
+had any idea of before leaving the packet,” and Gusty, taking a stick,
+and passing it through the handle, lifted the boiling kettle from the
+fire, and set it on the hearth, saying, “I am going to make you some
+spice tea, Hagar, to restore your circulation and send out a
+perspiration; you are chilled to death, your hands are livid,” and
+putting some cloves into the mug, he poured some of the boiling water
+upon it and set it down to steep.
+
+All this time, Hagar had heard his remarks without replying to them—seen
+his efforts for her comfort without acknowledging them; because, after
+her sudden rise of spirits, she had again sunk into apathy. Soon he took
+a little rude table—once used in cooking operations—and turning it
+bottom upwards, and gathering all their outside coverings that were now
+dried, he made a little warm bed for the babies, and begged Hagar to lay
+them in it. She did so, covered them up snugly, and resumed her seat.
+
+“I wish, Hagar,” said he, as he handed her the mug of spice tea, “I _do_
+wish that there was a place where you could lie down and take some
+sleep.”
+
+She smiled sadly and shook her head faintly.
+
+“I know _now_ what to do,” he said, receiving the empty mug from her
+hand and setting it on the hearth; “yes, I know what to do now,” and
+taking her riding habit, he hung it from the corner of the mantel-piece
+down against the wall behind her, and said, “Now, adjust your stool
+comfortably, Hagar, and lean upon that; you will rest better, and
+perhaps you will sleep. I shall sit here in front of the hearth, and
+watch to keep the fire going.”
+
+And so the party remained through all that stormy night. _But!_ Hagar
+had better have braved the fearful ascent of the precipice through that
+terrible storm—had better have perished in the snow—on that horrible
+night, than have lived to defy the more fatal tempest of calumny raised
+by her lodging in the fishing-house, and that soon roared and raved
+around her, striking thunderbolts upon her devoted head.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXVI.
+                          HAGAR AT HEATH HALL.
+
+                     “Nessun maggior dolore,
+               Che ricordarsi del tempo felice
+               Nella miseria.”
+                                                   DANTE.
+
+
+All night the children slept on their rude pallet, lulled by the howling
+of the storm, as it came dulled through the thick walls of the
+fishing-house. All night Hagar slumbered a fitful and uninterrupted
+slumber, more like a succession of fainting fits than a natural sleep,
+for overpowered by fatigue, she would fall into a state of deep
+insensibility, from which she would often start in terror, aroused by a
+sudden consciousness or dream of wrong, danger, or censure, of a
+terrible and impending destiny. All night Gusty sat upon the inverted
+tub drawn up between the fire-dogs, guarding his charges and keeping up
+the fire. Gusty, in whom the animal so largely predominated, found it
+very hard to keep awake—yet Gusty, who had never lost a meal’s victuals
+or a night’s sleep for any grief or disappointment he had ever
+suffered—Gusty, now that the health and comfort of others made it
+necessary for him to do so—propped his eyes open with heroic
+perseverance. Every one knows how difficult it is to keep from going to
+sleep, alone, in a quiet room over a good fire; there is something
+soporific in its genial heat, even in the day time. Gusty could have
+sworn he had not closed his eyes the whole night, yet by some
+inexplicable magic he had, or dreamed he had taken up a stick to mend
+the fire—at deep, dark, stormy midnight—and when he put it down, or when
+it fell from his hand—the instant after—it was broad, bright, glorious
+daylight! with the sun beaming a blinding light through the window,
+whose form was traced in amber radiance upon the opposite wall, near
+which Hagar stood in her travelling dress, ready for a walk, with the
+two babies standing clinging to her skirts, and gazing with baby wonder
+upon the strange scene in which they found themselves.
+
+“Lord!—yes!—well!—I declare!—so it is!” exclaimed Gusty, starting up.
+
+“I am glad you slept well, Gusty, dear, kind friend,” said Hagar.
+
+“I never SLEPT!” averred Gusty, with his eyes still wide open with
+astonishment, thinking himself bewitched.
+
+Hagar smiled sadly to herself, and did not contradict him.
+
+Gusty arose, and shook himself, like a great honest dog roused from
+slumber, and walking to the door opened it and looked out.
+
+“Oh! Hagar, come!” said he, “look out—what a glorious morning!”
+
+She went up to his side. It was indeed a gorgeous scene! The heath and
+hills were covered with crusted and brilliant snow, glittering with
+diamond dust. The forest trees carved in ice, with icicles for foliage.
+From every bough and bud dropped millions of pendent jewels. Earth wore
+a gorgeous bridal dress, bedecked with diamonds, and the morning sun
+kindled up into dazzling splendor the icy glories of the scene, until
+the snow flashed back to heaven, in lines of blinding light, a glory
+brilliant as the sun himself. Gusty shaded his eyes from the blinding
+radiance. Hagar gazed unwinking with her eagle eyes upon the landscape,
+until the fire kindled in her cheek and burned on her lips. When they
+had breathed the pure air, and enjoyed the prospect a few minutes, Gusty
+said,
+
+“You must remain here an hour, Hagar, until I go to the Hall and fetch a
+horse—it is almost impossible for you to get over these slippery and
+mountainous snow-drifts yet.”
+
+“But it will be quite impossible to get over it with a horse.”
+
+“Yes, just now it will, but in an hour or two the crust will be melted.
+Oh! this snow, deep as it is, will not last long; it comes too late in
+the season; the last offering of old winter, who turned back to make it.
+Yes, there is a great change since last night, I should think the
+thermometer had risen thirty degrees. I declare the sun begins to feel
+warm on my shoulders. Well, Hagar, stay here till I come. Oh! there are
+some crackers in my trunk, if you want them for the children, here are
+the keys,” and throwing them to her, he buttoned up his great coat, drew
+on his gloves, clapped his hat upon his head, and set out. He might have
+been gone an hour, but she heard no trampling of horse feet upon the
+snow, and so was unconscious of their approach until Gusty opened the
+door, and stood smilingly with his broad good-humored face within it.
+Behind him—standing on tiptoe, to look over his shoulder, was
+Tarquinius, grinning with delight from ear to ear, and breaking past
+them, yelping defiance like fire and sword, sprang two pointers straight
+upon Hagar, whom they overwhelmed with welcome caresses! She started
+with brightening eyes, and returned their honest fondling. Then how they
+bounded, leaped, and fell into convulsions of joy! or lay their muzzles
+out upon her lap, every hair vibrating with a still delight.
+
+“Come, Mrs. Withers, are you quite ready?” said Gusty, drawing off his
+gloves and putting them into his pocket.
+
+“Oh, yes, quite ready.”
+
+“How do you do, Tarquinius?” said she, kindly holding out her hand to
+the man that had been standing smiling and bowing his reverential
+welcome (making his _obedience_, he called it), through all this scene.
+“How is old Cumbo—how is your grandmother, Tarquin?”
+
+“Putty much de same, I tank you, ma’am—I does not see any changes.”
+
+“Yet she is very aged.”
+
+“Yes, ma’am, but her ages does not get any wusser, but commiserably
+better.”
+
+“Can she do anything for herself?”
+
+“Oh, yes, ma’am! she deforms de cookinary boderations as well as ever
+she did,” and making two or three deep bows, Tarquinius Superbus retired
+from the conference.
+
+There was an unusual kindliness in Hagar’s manner while inquiring after
+the welfare of her old nurse; one of the blessed influences of sorrow
+was beginning to manifest itself—her heart was softening, becoming
+capable of being impressed by the afflictions of others.
+
+“Hagar, come!” said Gusty, lifting up a child in each arm, and preceding
+her from the door.
+
+Hagar followed, and no sooner had she emerged into the dazzling sunlight
+upon the crusted snow, than with a neigh of joy her little jet black
+pony Starlight, bounded to meet her. She fell upon his neck, caressing
+him, as if he had been her brother, too surprised and glad to ask an
+explanation of his arrival. She patted, talked to him, and laying her
+hand upon his mane, sprang into the saddle with something of her former
+agility and gladness. She had thought the coming of the dogs accidental,
+she thought that Gusty had met them on an early hunt, and that they had
+naturally recognised an old friend and followed him to the house; but
+now that she felt herself again upon Starlight’s back, with the dogs at
+her feet, she wondered how it came so.
+
+“Sit Agatha here before me, Gusty, I can hold her with one hand, and
+guide Starlight with the other. I mean to accustom the children early to
+riding.”
+
+“And which _is_ Agatha, and which is Agnes?—hang me if I can tell,
+though I have a preference! for this little one on my left arm loves me
+the most, presses close to me, looks up in my face, and seeks my eyes;
+and if I turn away my head, she puts up her little dimpled hand upon my
+chin, and turns my face around again, till she can see my eyes. God love
+her! God bless her! the loving darling! while this other child sits
+perched upon my arm, as if it were a high chair, with closed lips and
+level gaze, with all the composed dignity of an infant princess. Now,
+which is Agatha, and which is Agnes? If my loving darling is Agatha, I
+won’t give her up.”
+
+“No, your favorite is Agnes—the other is Agatha; hand her to me; and,
+Gusty, I wish you would not manifest the slightest preference for one
+child above the other—it is a fatal cruelty. Agatha is still, because
+she has less vitality than her sister; she is more delicate, dear child.
+I discovered it the first moment I had an opportunity of comparing
+them.”
+
+Gusty placed the sedate infant in her mother’s care, and seemed very
+well pleased to be relieved from the burden, and at liberty to devote
+his whole care to the “loving darling” in his arms. And so the party set
+out over the brilliant snow, under the glorious sunshine. They reached
+the old Hall in twenty minutes’ ride. Agatha had fallen asleep on her
+mother’s bosom. They entered through the broken gate, and Hagar rode
+quite up to the piazza, and handing the sleeping babe to Tarquinius, she
+sprang from her saddle, took back the child, and entering the doorway,
+stood one moment in silent prayer, and passed on into the parlor, where
+stood old Cumbo leaning on her stick, with a red handkerchief on her
+head, tied under her chin, and forming a brilliant red frame around a
+face, black, wrinkled, and shining as a dried prune. Awed by the memory
+of Hagar’s pride and hardness, the old woman did not advance to welcome
+her, but when Hagar approached and spoke to her gently and kindly, she
+fell to crying and calling her dear “piccaninni.” Hagar looked around
+upon the scene; it appeared to her strange that everything had remained
+unchanged during the long century that her two years’ absence seemed to
+be. It was the same old parlor papered with the martyrs—with the shadows
+of the same poplar trees intercepting the sun at the windows that looked
+out upon the piazza. A good hickory fire was burning on the ample
+hearth, and a good breakfast smoking on the table. Hagar set her child
+down upon the carpet, and began to take off her travelling dress, just
+as Gusty entered, followed by Tarquinius, bearing a dish of fine white
+perch, fried, which he had just brought from the kitchen, and now set
+upon the table. They sat down to breakfast.
+
+“These are very nice, Tarquin—did you catch them?” asked Gusty, placing
+a perch upon the plate before him.
+
+“Yes, sir! I did, sir; I most in general confuses my ledger hours by
+angulating in the bay, whenever the perdition of the hemisphere
+commits.”
+
+“Ah, that’s right; has my mother—has Mrs. Buncombe been over at the Hall
+to give any directions?”
+
+“No, sor, but de reverend gen’lem’n, sir, he come ober, and dejected us
+to have ebery ting impaired, and all the molestic confairs deranged for
+Mrs. Widders, an’ so we have conveyed his ardors to de best of our
+debility.”
+
+“Thank you—you are a valuable agent!—Hagar!”
+
+“Well?”
+
+“I shall have to take leave of you immediately after breakfast; I must
+see my mother—she is uneasy, I know—perhaps sick. Say, are they all well
+over to the Grove, Tarquin?”
+
+“Yes, sir, de reveren gen’lem’n, he has got over his room-atism, and
+goes all over the house; but he is inflicted with a dog-matism in his
+ear, owing to Mr. Green’s big dog, Silver, jumpin’ up and bitin’ him.”
+
+“Oh!”
+
+“Speaking of dogs, will you tell me, Gusty, how Starlight, and Remus,
+and Romulus came here?”
+
+“Came here? Why, they have been here all the time; did not you know it?”
+
+“No, indeed; tell me about it.”
+
+“In the first place, the dogs would not stay anywhere else. Gardiner
+Green tied them up, but they gnawed their rope in two and fled to the
+Hall; and then he caught them and chained them, but they kept such a
+dismal howling—”
+
+“Poor dogs!”
+
+“That Mrs. Green, who is very superstitious, insisted on their being set
+at liberty, and they immediately returned to the Hall!”
+
+“Dear, true dogs! Well, but Starlight?”
+
+“Yes, Starlight! _he_ was worse, it was a regular conspiracy. Star
+behaved like a comet—like a devil let loose. Gardiner Green mounted him
+on Sunday to ride to church, but no sooner was he prisoned on the
+saddle, than Star shot forward like a meteor, while Green fell upon his
+neck and grasped his mane; Star fled across the meadow, making the turf
+fly beneath his digging feet, fled towards the river, plunged in, swam
+it, climbed the opposite side, and took the way towards the forest. Soon
+the pointers came baying behind him. On fled Star, with Green clinging
+in deadly terror to his neck, bent on a regular steeple chase, bounding
+over the hills, tearing through the forest, springing over gates,
+leaping across chasms, till at last reaching and clearing Devil’s Gorge
+at a bound, he sent Gardiner Green spinning from his back like a shot
+from a pop-gun! and keeping on his course, arrived in a somewhat excited
+state of mind at his own stall at Heath Hall, where the pointers soon
+overtook him. Gardiner Green was picked up by those who went to look for
+him, battered, bruised, and terrified nearly to death, but not lamed,
+dead, or otherwise injured. The next morning they sent over and had
+Starlight led back; and Starlight stepped statelily forth with the
+indignant air and threatening eye of a captive king led in triumph, who
+expects yet to rise and crush his enemies.”
+
+“My noble Starlight!”
+
+“Oh! he was a hero—he was not born to be a slave, or to serve any master
+except for love.”
+
+“Like his mistress,” thought Hagar, and her brow grew dark with
+recollection.
+
+“Well, they carried him home and geared him up into Mistress Green’s
+gig—but he ran away with that, threw Mrs. Green out, spoiling her beauty
+but not seriously injuring her—kicked the gig to flinders, and brought
+the remnant of his gearing as a trophy home to the stables of Heath Hall
+that very evening. Then they put him in a cart, which he served in the
+same manner. Then they put him in a plough with another horse.”
+
+“Poor, dear Starlight—to degrade my elegant Starlight so!”
+
+“Exactly! but his highness, Prince Starlight, the Black Prince, would
+not stand it—he kicked, and reared, and plunged, and tried to excite his
+comrade to run away. And when his small-souled comrade would not, he bit
+him severely on the neck, as a punishment for helping to keep him
+prisoner. And then Gardiner Green offered ‘the black fiend’ to any one
+for half the price he gave for him. It was just at this juncture of
+affairs that I had run down here to see mother again before going the
+voyage I expected to sail on, and hearing of this, I gladly purchased
+the horse at half-price, and returned him to the stables at Heath Hall,
+for the use of Hagar if ever she should return—for, Hagar, it is
+demonstrated that he will not serve man, woman, or child, but you.”
+
+“I know that,” said Hagar, “and Gusty, I thank you, very sincerely—but I
+must repay you.”
+
+“Be hanged if you shall! I will give him to you, but as for _selling him
+to you_! I’d cut his throat first! I was very willing to pay a good
+price for him, only I was enraged with that old brute, Gardiner Green,
+for having the atrocious assurance to buy your horse and dogs without
+your consent; for, of course, Hagar, I knew perfectly well that you
+would never have agreed to the sale, and so I would not be generous! I
+was too glad to punish his fault through his tenderest point, his
+pocket.”
+
+“But,” said Hagar, choking with the unavailing effort to speak _a name_
+that had not passed her lips since its owner was lost to her sight,
+“_he_ sold them, and of course my consent was understood or
+unnecessary.”
+
+This was the first occasion upon which even the most distant allusion
+was made between Hagar and Gusty to the party that was nevertheless ever
+present to the minds of both. Gusty soon after arose from the table, and
+in taking leave of Hagar, promised that if it were possible for his
+mother to venture through the deep snow, he would bring her over in the
+afternoon.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+The family of Grove Cottage had just arisen from breakfast. The parson
+had just buttoned up his greatcoat, set his hat upon his head, and was
+drawing on his wool-lined gloves for a walk to the village, when the
+door opened, and Gusty entered.
+
+“Oh! how do you do?” exclaimed Mr. Buncombe, slightly starting back with
+surprise, and then cordially shaking his hand. Gusty, returning his
+salute, passed on to where his mother sat at the head of the table.
+Emily arose with tears in her eyes. Gusty caught and folded her warmly
+to his bosom.
+
+Mr. Buncombe returned, and laying his hand upon his step-son’s shoulder,
+said—“Gusty, my boy, I am called to the sick bed of one of my
+parishioners, and must leave you. I am sorry, but I shall meet you here
+at dinner?”
+
+“Yes, sir. Oh! never mind me, my dear sir.”
+
+The parson departed, and Gusty releasing his mother, snatched up his
+infant sister, Rose, and began to cover her with caresses and praises by
+way of diverting the storm of maternal grief and resentment, that he
+felt too ready to break over his head. Emily was weeping bitterly,
+until, seeing _his_ grief and embarrassment, she arose and fell upon his
+shoulder, exclaiming,
+
+“Oh, Gusty! Gusty! you have destroyed the labor and the hopes of many
+years and cares. You have nearly broken my heart—but you are welcome,
+nevertheless! Welcome, welcome, my boy!”
+
+“Mother! _don’t_, now _don’t_—don’t make me _feel_ like a brute, when I
+_know_ I have behaved like a man!” said Gusty, setting down the child,
+and returning his mother’s embrace. “I have not merited this misfortune,
+mother; and I know that therefore, sooner or later, it will turn out
+well!”
+
+“Ah! but, Gusty, it is _such_ a blow! and you did nothing to avert, and
+will do nothing to remedy it! _Why_ did you not, why _do_ you not, even
+now, hasten to Washington, and petition to be reinstated?”
+
+“I would see the whole United States Navy swamped first, mother! No,
+much as I honor my flag, I honor myself more! and God most!”
+
+“Ah, Gusty! ‘God helps those who help themselves,’ is a very true
+proverb.”
+
+“May be so—but I’ll improve upon that, ‘God helps those who help their
+neighbors!’ I have Scripture for _that_, mother; ‘Cast thy bread upon
+the waters, and after many days it shall return, and whoso giveth,
+_lendeth_ to the Lord.’ Come, mother, I lost my commission by doing a
+higher duty than any I owed my flag, and so I am not uneasy; but,
+mother, you have not once inquired after Hagar, who landed last night in
+the midst of the storm, and who is now at the Hall.”
+
+“Well! how should I be able to think of Hagar, when I have so many
+anxieties on your account, unfortunate boy? but how is Hagar, then?”
+
+“Recovering slowly, but _very_ slowly; will you not go over to see her,
+then, this afternoon?”
+
+Emily was silent and thoughtful, and sooth to say, rather displeased at
+the proposition.
+
+“Will you not, mother? Come, mother; when you see Hagar, so wretched, so
+ill, so changed, your unjust displeasure with her will be dissipated;
+you should not indeed feel angry with her because she was the
+involuntary, the unconscious cause of my misfortune, which she does not
+even know of yet—thinking I am on furlough—and do not tell her, mother.”
+
+“Yes, but I see no _reason_ for all this wretchedness. I knew that Hagar
+madly loved her husband, but I do not see why his leaving her for two
+years should cause her to lose the power of directing her own life, and
+so cause you to lose all the hopes and prospects of yours.”
+
+Gusty mused. Could he, he thought, enlighten his mother as to the _real_
+state of affairs? After some minutes’ reflection, he determined to keep
+the secret of the elopement, veiled as it was by the foreign mission;
+both because, though his suspicions came as near truth as suspicions
+_could_ come, yet they were not fully proved—_he_ might feel very sure
+himself, yet he might not he able to assure another mind—and because he
+did not wish to inflict upon his mother another sorrow, in addition to
+the one she was now almost sinking under. He felt sure that she would
+never receive a hint from Hagar, whom self-esteem, as well as her
+continued and inevitable love for her husband, would keep silent upon
+the subject of his perfidy, and her own wrongs and sufferings.
+
+After dinner, Emily, attended by her son, rode towards Heath Hall.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Gusty May had left the breakfast-table for his walk to Grove
+Cottage, Hagar took her two children up to her own chamber—to her old
+eyrie in the third story. This room also was unchanged—except—yes! there
+sat her children’s little rose-wood crib, with all its furniture, just
+as it was before it had been sold at the third execution. There could be
+but _one_ to whom she was indebted for this delicate attention, and
+though her morbid pride was at first startled, yet her affections were
+touched by this instance of disinterested friendship.
+
+Without any pretensions, Gusty was doing everything to sanctify the uses
+of adversity to the heart of Hagar. It was impossible not to be softened
+by the kind offices of a friendship that gave everything without hope or
+even thought of return. This was Hagar’s first, her _very_ first
+experience of disinterested affection—the love of Raymond was intensely
+selfish, craving only the possession of its object, regardless of her
+affections or her happiness—and Hagar had felt that bitterly through all
+her married life, and most bitterly in her desertion. The effect of this
+selfish and cruel abandonment on the character of Hagar’s mind and
+heart, must have been most deleterious, fatal, but that the antidote was
+provided in a new phase of human sympathy revealed to her in the
+disinterested affection of one—an alien by blood—a rejected and humbled
+lover of her girlhood, a sufferer by the same treachery that laid her
+own hopes in the dust; one who, without pretending to any fine feelings,
+or expressing any fine sentiments, had quietly suppressed and concealed
+his own griefs, in ministering to her wants, in trying to alleviate her
+sorrows. Hagar’s maternity had first inspired her deepest prayer—her
+children had been the angels sent to conduct her heart to God—to whom,
+ever since, with an almost hearing, seeing, touching faith, she had
+offered all her joys, gratitudes, and praises, and where, alas! she had
+also impiously carried all her fears, complaints, and reproaches. But
+now she must ask a boon of Providence, that He would bless and prosper
+the kind soul that she was unable to benefit. This was the silent
+prayer—the silent fragrance rising from the bruised heart to
+heaven—while she loosened her babies’ clothes, and laid them in the crib
+to take their forenoon nap. And then she looked around the pleasant room
+with its agreeable associations, the extensive prospect from the windows
+of the broad river, the village with its little stir and bustle on the
+opposite side, the boundless bay with its occasional passing packet, all
+inspiring the feeling of life, liberty, and strength. If God is a kind
+father, as all his children devoutly feel and acknowledge, _Nature_ is a
+good nursing mother, and under the care of both, Hagar was even now
+beginning to feel her torpid life stir again. She was at _home_, under
+her own roof; what if the house were half a ruin—it was HER OWN. She was
+upon her own land, and though it was only a desert heath, it was HER
+OWN. There was a sense of independence in that, and of pride in the
+thought that for this home she was not indebted to Mr. Withers—for,
+though she still _must_ love him, in her high self-appreciation she now
+felt an unconquerable reluctance to receive anything from him who had
+withdrawn his love and personal protection. And then there was a sense
+of returning power in the new life that was tiding in and filling all
+her veins. Turning from the window, from which she had been gazing, her
+eye fell upon her own image in the glass; that glass which had so often
+reflected the slight dark figure of the high-spirited maiden, whose long
+blue-black ringlets glittered down a crimson cheek blushing with pride,
+_now_ gave back the form of the matron, whose fair, wan, spiritual face
+was faintly flushed with returning life, and softly shaded by the tiny
+black ringlets of the young hair just visible under the delicate lace
+border of her little cap. Hagar scarcely knew herself. It was so strange
+to see that changed picture in that frame.
+
+Returning and looking again at her children, she drew the light muslin
+curtain around them, and left the room to take a look through the house.
+She went into the large, old drawing-room hall, as it was called in
+those days, and there the first thing that met her eyes was her grand
+piano, and her harp, from the Rialto. Hagar started in surprise and
+embarrassment—the burden of obligation was beginning to feel
+oppressive—she called Tarquin in.
+
+“When did these arrive, and who brought them here?”
+
+“They ’riv’ ’tother day, ma’am, by the packet ‘Future,’ Cap’n Hope, who
+sent ’em up to the Hall by two sailors.”
+
+“With any message?”
+
+“No, ma’am, freight paid in advance—dinner is ready, Mrs. Withers,” said
+the man, throwing open the parlor door with all the ceremonious
+observance of “better days.” Hagar passed in and sat down to her
+solitary meal. It was a well served, delicate little repast, purveyed by
+the affectionate care of Cumbo and Tarquin from the rich resources of
+the Heath and bay, which were always abundantly supplied with wild game,
+water fowl, fish, crabs, oysters, &c., in their respective seasons.
+There was no danger of our Hagar starving, and that was one comfort; nor
+of her freezing, as long as the forest stood behind the Heath, and that
+was another consolation. Her dinner was scarcely over and the things
+removed from the table, when looking through the window, she saw Emily
+on her little mare with her little girl before her, and Gusty riding by
+her side. This of course was the first sight she had had of Emily for
+two years past; she hastened out to meet her. Gusty had dismounted, and
+was lifting his little sister from his mother’s lap, previous to
+assisting her from the saddle. She greeted Hagar with as much cordiality
+as could be expected under the circumstances. Hagar immediately ran, and
+lifting, caressed the little girl that was but a few months older than
+her own children. Emily’s sullen anger was somewhat softened by
+witnessing the sincere interest manifested by the youthful mother in
+_her_ child, and so they went into the house. Soon Hagar led her babies,
+who could now walk, into the room, and the two women for a time
+forgot—the one her pride, the other her anger, and both their
+antagonism, in comparing and admiring the three babies as they toddled
+about. Emily remained to tea, and forgot her displeasure so far as not
+only to suppress the fact of her son’s having been cashiered, but also
+to invite Hagar to come and spend a week at Grove cottage, as soon as
+she should be able to go out.
+
+The next morning, directly after breakfast, Gusty came over to Heath
+Hall to inquire after Hagar and the babies, and to know if she wanted
+anything.
+
+“Yes, Gusty, I want to speak to you. Come in here, Gusty,” and taking
+his hand she drew him into the drawing-room and pointed to the piano and
+harp.
+
+“Ah, yes! certainly! give me a tune!” said Gusty, blushing and
+stammering with embarrassment.
+
+“But, Gusty, _you_ sent these here!”
+
+“Oh—yes—well—what of it?”
+
+“Only _this_, Gusty, that you are _very good, too good_ for your own
+sake—but, Gusty, dear friend, you must not lavish such presents upon
+me.”
+
+“Oh! nonsense! oh, pshaw! they were sold at auction, and I bought them
+in for a mere trifle.”
+
+“Yes, but, dear friend, there are many reasons why you should not offer
+and I receive costly presents like these. Much as I dislike to do it I
+shall have to draw—upon—upon _his_ banker and pay you for them as well
+as for the horse and dogs.”
+
+“HAGAR!”
+
+“Dear Gusty, now listen to me quietly, _it must be so_; and moreover,
+dear Gusty, you must not get into the habit of visiting me every day as
+you appear inclined to do. You must never come to see me, Gusty, except
+in company with your mother.”
+
+“THUNDER!” roared Gusty. “Hagar, how have I deserved that sentence? I
+can’t stand that!”
+
+“Listen, Gusty! when I was a girl you know I did not care at all what
+people said or thought of me. I cared for nothing but to keep my Maker’s
+laws, because no one cared for me then.”
+
+“And no one cares for you _now_ as I can see!” said Gusty, rudely.
+
+“No—_but I care for others_! I care for the honor of one whose honor is
+more vulnerable through _me_ than through _himself_! Once I was
+unconnected, and if society had misunderstood, judged, and condemned me,
+I should have fallen alone! and so I had courage to do as I pleased and
+defy the fate! _now_ I am closely entwined with others, who, when _I_ am
+struck down, fall with me. I am weak, fettered, enslaved through them,
+Gusty. I cannot do as I please, and though I esteem and respect you
+beyond all other people in the world with one exception, and though your
+society would be the greatest solace in my reach, yet I must forego it,
+dear Gusty.”
+
+“You have no faith in my honor, in your own purity, or in God! that is
+just the amount of it,” growled Gusty, straightening himself up with
+tears in his eyes as he buttoned up his greatcoat. “It seems to me you
+are not yourself; you are weak.”
+
+“I am weak _through those I love_, Gusty!”
+
+“And do you, Hagar, really _hope_ to propitiate the gossips of —— county
+by this course? and do you, a deserted wife!—there it’s out! well! it
+has been _in_ both our minds continually, so it had as well come out. I
+say, do you expect to be let alone? Do you not know that the old grudge
+against your wild girlhood will be remembered, and now that an
+opportunity is offered, will be visited with fury on your head. You will
+be cast forth from here, Hagar; a ground-swell of slander and
+persecution will lift and lift you, Hagar, until you take wing. Did you
+think when I brought you to be nursed into health and strength by the
+bracing air of your native heath, that I thought that YOU would stay
+_here_? No, Hagar! I could prophesy _more_ for you, but I will not now.
+I will leave you to the force of circumstances; to the inspirations of
+your own genius—to God in fine. But you are wrong to discard me. I have
+not deserved it. _I_ say it! But I charge all this weakness of yours
+upon bodily ill health. Good morning, Hagar;” and shaking her hand
+affectionately, he clapped his hat upon his head and went out.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+It happened as Gusty had predicted. Hagar remained weeks, months at
+Heath Hall, and no one visited her—not a soul had come to welcome her
+back to her native neighborhood except the Buncombes. All sorts of evil
+reports got into circulation against her. She was, as Gusty said, a rich
+waif for the gossips of —— county. Some were contented with repeating
+that her husband had left her, that “of course he had good reason,”
+asserting that they “had always expected it.” Others declared that _she_
+had eloped from _him_, and averred that they had “said so long ago.”
+Some said positively that he had left her upon account of the intimacy
+subsisting between herself and Lieutenant May—others had discovered that
+Lieutenant May had been cashiered upon her account, &c., &c., &c. Many
+other and more fatal rumors got into circulation, and though they never
+reached the ears of Hagar, she felt them in the utter abandonment and
+solitude into which she was suffered to fall; for even Emily’s visits
+became shorter and colder, and “few and far between,” until they ceased
+altogether, and Hagar Withers was left _alone_! And it was under these
+circumstances, and when her twins were little over a year old, that her
+third child was born. It was a little, fair-skinned, blue-eyed,
+golden-haired boy—with the very soul of Raymond Withers reposing on his
+features; and Hagar, if she could not love the babe more upon that
+account, was happier in her love, because the face of the baby gave her
+back the features of her absent and lost one.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXXVII.
+                                REMORSE.
+
+         “Pangs more corrosive and severe,
+           More fierce, more poignant and intense
+         Than ever hostile sword or spear
+           Waked in the breast of innocence.”
+                                             MARGARET OF ANJOU.
+
+
+Rosalia Aguilar was not one to enjoy an hour’s impunity in sinning. From
+the time of her passing Churchill’s Point—through all the days of her
+passage down the bay to Norfolk—up to the time of her embarkation—and
+through all the weeks of her long sea voyage, she had remained in a sort
+of horrid waking dream—with her life broken off in the middle, and its
+innocence and happiness wafted away—receding with the receding shores of
+her native country. Raymond vainly waited for the struggle to cease,
+when she might repose calmly in his power. The struggle _had_ ceased,
+but the issue had not been what he hoped and expected. The struggle had
+ceased—passion was conquered, and remorse was the victor, the judge, and
+the executioner. Her health declined daily; her features grew sharp, and
+her complexion of a blue transparent paleness. She became so feeble at
+last as to be almost unable to go upon deck. Every day she expressed an
+earnest wish to reach the end of her voyage. Every hour she besought
+Raymond when he should land, to place her in some quiet, obscure
+retreat, and leave her for ever—leave her to die alone—to die in peace.
+And Raymond would endeavour to soothe her, while evading her despairing
+entreaties. At last Rosalia ceased to make them, and seemed resigned to
+her destiny. And Raymond deceived himself with the fond belief that she
+was content, and pleased himself with the hope that once upon the shores
+of sunny Italy her health and spirits would return, especially when
+towards the end of the voyage, and after they had entered the
+Mediterranean, she revived so much as to be able to come on deck every
+morning and evening. In this seemingly promising state of affairs, they
+arrived at Genoa—the post of Raymond Withers’s consulship. On the voyage
+out Miss Aguilar had passed for what she really was—the ward of Captain
+and Mrs. Wilde—going out under the protection of the new Consul, to
+rejoin them. It had been the design of Raymond Withers, on reaching the
+shores of Italy, to find some convenient and obscure, but beautiful
+palazzo, buried in some fragrant grove by the side of some lovely
+stream—furnish and adorn it to please his own luxurious taste, and
+enshrine his idol there, where the privacy of the retreat would prevent
+exposure for some time. How he expected to meet the further difficulties
+that make “the way of the transgressors so hard” does not appear.
+
+They landed at Genoa. Raymond Withers took his ward at once to a hotel,
+saw her comfortably ensconced in her own apartment, and promising to
+meet her at dinner, left her for the purpose of presenting his
+credentials in the proper quarter.
+
+It was about three o’clock when he left the hotel—it was five when he
+returned, sought his own chamber, changed his dress, and sent a waiter
+to the apartment of Miss Aguilar, to know if she were ready for dinner.
+The man returned after some time, saying that he supposed the young lady
+was sleeping, as he had knocked loudly but received no answer. Raymond
+settled it in his own mind that she was taking an afternoon’s nap, and
+waited patiently for an hour, then touching the bell, he sent the waiter
+that answered it again to the chamber of Rosalia, and again the man
+returned in a few minutes, with the information that the young lady was
+still sleeping. Raymond thought that Rosalia was taking a very long
+sleep, and hoped she might awake refreshed and cheerful, and be able to
+spend the evening pleasantly with him. He ordered dinner and ate it
+alone. Then selecting a delightful little private parlor, which
+contained, among other luxuries, a grand piano, he took possession of
+it, giving directions that an elegant little supper should be prepared
+and set on the table there at ten o’clock.
+
+And there he sat waiting, promising himself an evening of delight, with
+Rosalia’s society, and his long lost luxury—music. At nine o’clock he
+sent a third time to the chamber-door, and a third time the waiter
+returned to say that no answer was given to his knock. Now, for the
+first time, a feeling of uneasiness arose in Raymond Withers’s bosom;
+and reluctant as he was to violate any of the external proprieties of
+life, whatever he might do with its moralities, he determined to go to
+her room and see what was the matter. He went, rapped at her door,
+received no answer—rapped a second time and louder, and waited,
+listening with his ear to the lock; _all was silent as death!_ Then he
+tried the lock and found it fast. In real alarm now he knocked loudly,
+beating and shaking the door, and calling on the name of Rosalia—then
+suddenly stopping while the sounds died away in silence, he put his ear
+to the key-hole and listened—_the stillness of the grave was within!_
+Terrified now, he hastened from the door to the nearest bell-rope,
+jerked it down, and broke the wires with his energetic pull, sending
+peals of alarm through the house that brought the landlord and half the
+servants in the establishment to his presence.
+
+“Are you sure that this is the room in which the young American lady was
+placed?” he inquired of the host.
+
+“Si, Signore.”
+
+“Are you _certain_?” he again asked in Italian.
+
+“Si, Signore, _certainly_,” replied the landlord in the same language.
+
+“Then I must have the door forced—the young lady entered this chamber at
+three o’clock, and though summoned both to dinner and to supper, has not
+made her appearance or replied to the call, or given, in fact, the
+slightest sign of her presence, or even of her existence! and it is now
+ten o’clock. I am extremely anxious concerning her, and must have the
+door forced. Clear away all these people, signor landlord; I did not
+want the whole establishment about my ears—and bring an instrument to
+force this lock. I tell you that I am consumed with anxiety!”
+
+“Si, Signore; what does Signore think may be the matter?” inquired the
+host, as with a wave of his hand he dismissed all his attendants and
+took a master key from his girdle.
+
+“Matter! how can I tell? the lady may be ill, dead, in a lethargy; open
+the door; _do!_ without more delay.”
+
+The landlord placed the key in the door, turned it, and throwing open
+the door, bowed, and was about to withdraw, when Raymond Withers
+recalled him by a gesture, and both entered the chamber. The room was
+unoccupied, the bed empty, and its perfectly smooth and neat appearance
+proved that it had not been slept in. Yet Rosalia’s trunks were on the
+floor; her pet doves, released from their cage, were perched upon the
+top of the dressing-glass; and even her dark blue velvet travelling
+dress and close beaver bonnet, lay upon the white Marseilles counterpane
+that covered the bed. Raymond gazed around in perplexity and distress.
+There was no other mode of exit from the room except the door by which
+they had entered, and the windows; he went to one and raised it; pshaw!
+the fall to the ground was fifty feet; a bird would have risked its neck
+in taking the flight; and Raymond turned away from the window in
+despair, to detect the landlord’s smile, which was quickly drawn in as
+he met his guest’s anxious gaze of inquiry, and replied to it by saying—
+
+“The young lady could only have left the room by the door at which we
+entered, sir—and she must have locked her door, and taken the key with
+her; and to prove it, see—there is no other means of exit from the room;
+and when we came we found the door fastened, the room vacant, and the
+key gone,” said he, pointing to the lock. Raymond Withers was half
+stupified with astonishment at her absence, and alarm for her fate.
+
+“Had she any acquaintance in the city?” inquired the host.
+
+“Oh, of course not—_not one_—she was a perfect stranger.”
+
+“She _may_ be in the house; I will inquire,” said the landlord.
+
+“_Do_, and be quick, will you?” said Raymond Withers, lifting the lamp
+from the dressing-table, where he had set it at first entering the room.
+As he raised up the light, his eyes fell on a small white note that,
+lying upon the white cover of the table, had escaped his first glance,
+so that he had set the lamp down upon it and concealed it until this
+instant. Snatching it up now, he saw that it was directed to himself in
+the hand-writing of Rosalia; he tore it open and read—
+
+
+  “Good-bye, Raymond—I am gone. Forgive me, Raymond, all the sin I have
+  caused you to commit—all the suffering I have made you undergo—and
+  when I dare to pray, I will implore the God of Mercy to bless and heal
+  you. I have left you in this abrupt manner, Raymond, because I knew
+  that you would not have suffered me to depart had you suspected my
+  intentions; nor, to tell the truth, had I the courage to brave the
+  anguish of a parting scene. I had long resolved on this. Indeed, had
+  it not been for this resolution, I should never have lived to reach
+  the land, Raymond. This resolution was the secret of my recovery at
+  sea; a temporary recovery only, I begin now to think it was, Raymond,
+  for to-night a mortal languor overpowers me; I can scarcely raise
+  myself from my chair, or draw one weary foot after the other; yet must
+  their last strength be spent in bearing me away from you, as surely as
+  my last breath shall be spent in praying for you, Raymond. I do not
+  know where I am going—towards what point of the compass my failing
+  steps will stray—to some quiet spot where I can lie down and go to
+  sleep—I have not been to sleep since _that day_!—that day when I
+  kneeled down by the side of your lounge, and, with my head upon your
+  cushion, sobbed myself to sleep, while you looked gently in my face
+  and stroked my hair, soothing into stillness the tempest in my bosom.
+  Ah, that day, when waking up, I, unfortunate! became your Eve,
+  tempting you to sin! No more, alas! I have not slept since then; for
+  though I have laid down and shut my eyes, I have never lost
+  myself—never lost consciousness of my sin—my remorse—and never lost
+  sight of one image—the image of Hagar! oh! I feel it sacrilege for me
+  to trace the letters that form her name!—of Hagar, as she stood pale
+  in the grey morning light, with her black hair streaming down her wan
+  cheeks. In that form her spirit always stands before me night and day,
+  and I cannot shut it out and sleep. I shall escape this image in
+  leaving you, Raymond, and so I shall be permitted to go to sleep and
+  die; for it was you she followed, cleaved to, not me; and this is the
+  reason, I know it, she never looks indignant and reproachful as she
+  used to look at me, even when I did not understand her look—but
+  deprecating, loving, imploring, and most wretched as she used to look
+  at you when in her anguish she forgot that other eyes than yours were
+  on her. Good-bye, Raymond! my tears are falling fast—thank God, they
+  can flow once more! they have been scorching up in their fountains so
+  long! Ah, now I understand poor Hagar’s dry sobs! and the untold agony
+  breaking forth through them! as much more awful than the grief of
+  tears as the burning sirocco of the desert is more terrible than the
+  April shower. Well, I can weep now, thank God! Come, I shall be able
+  to sleep soon; perhaps I shall even grow calm enough to die.
+  Good-bye—take care of my doves; I would like to take them with me, but
+  they would perish where I shall go to sleep. Give them to Hagar’s
+  children—there! now the tears are raining from my eyes again. Oh,
+  Raymond, I would lose my soul to save, to redeem yours! would descend
+  into hell to purchase you a place among the archangels! Good-bye!
+  good-bye! Alas! I shall write all night; I cannot tear myself from the
+  paper that yet connects me with you. Good-night, Raymond! I pour my
+  whole heart and soul, my life and immortality in one blessing, and
+  breathe it in the words, _Good-Night_!
+
+  “Why has a revolution passed through my soul within the last minute,
+  and since writing the last good night? Why do I feel now as though it
+  were a sin to leave you? Am I going crazy again? Oh, my God! Let me
+  escape while a ray of reason is left to light my path! Good-night,
+  again, and yet again! Bless, _bless_ you, Raymond! Oh, if I could
+  dissolve my being into a fragrance of blessing, and envelope you in
+  it!—into a halo of blessing, and crown you with it!—that I could do
+  what I please with my own soul, and lose it in your heart to give you
+  fuller life! Yes, I would annihilate myself and give my spirit to
+  enlarge your life; and yet I cannot do a _less_ thing—I cannot,
+  _cannot_ break the heart of a sister woman—of Hagar—even for _you_.
+  Raymond! CANNOT! do you hear and understand, Raymond? For though I
+  would give my body to be burned, and my soul to perdition for your
+  sake, I have NO RIGHT TO SACRIFICE ANOTHER! and that truth has been
+  thundered in my ears until my very brain is stunned. My senses are
+  reeling, whirling. I scarcely know where I am, what I write, where I
+  go; I only feel, oh God! that I leave you for ever—that my whole soul
+  sobs forth in bitterest anguish its wail—_Good-Night_!”
+
+
+The first part of this passionate and incoherent letter was nearly
+illegible with the marks of tears; the last sentences were traced wildly
+and scrawlingly.
+
+Seeing the excitement, the insanity under which this letter must have
+been written, and in the deepest grief for her loss, and the utmost
+alarm for her safety, he hastened from the room, and caused the
+strictest inquiries to be set on foot, that resulted, however, in
+nothing satisfactory. The chambermaid who had attended her on her first
+arrival was questioned, but could only say that just as soon as she had
+assisted the young lady in removing her travelling dress, she had been
+dismissed by her. The porter was examined, but had seen no one pass
+answering to the description of the young American lady. So all the
+people about the establishment were interrogated without any information
+being elicited. A fruitless search was kept up through all the night—no
+trace of the fugitive could be discovered. This was perhaps the very
+first night’s rest that Raymond Withers, the systematic voluptuary, had
+ever lost. Towards sunrise, after having given directions for the search
+to be kept up, he threw himself upon his bed, and overcome by anxiety,
+watching, and fatigue, slept the sleep of exhaustion. Late in the day he
+awoke, with that dreary sense of vague weight that oppresses the head
+and brain at the first awakening after a great sorrow. It was some
+minutes before the fact was clear before his eyes. Rosalia fled—Rosalia
+lost—wandering, and exposed, in all her tenderness and delicacy, to all
+the horrors of unsheltered life. This was the first time that the
+benevolence of Raymond Withers had been awakened for his victim. Her
+mental and moral throes and struggles he had not pitied, because he had
+not understood them; but the epicurean fully comprehended and greatly
+exaggerated the importance of the physical sufferings she might have to
+endure. He dressed in haste, and going out inquired anxiously if news
+had been received of Miss Aguilar. He was told that no clue had been
+found by which to trace her course. All that day was spent in a vain
+search through the city and its suburbs—all that week was devoted to
+sending messengers down all the public roads, and to the neighboring
+villages seeking the lost one; but the end of the week—the end of the
+month, found them as far from the attainment of their object as they
+were at its commencement. Once or twice it had occurred to Raymond
+Withers that she might have fled to Captain Wilde and Sophie, “her young
+heart’s cynosure,” but then he quickly recollected that Captain and Mrs.
+Wilde were a thousand miles off, at Constantinople. At last he
+determined on sending off the letters and packets that had been
+intrusted to Rosalia for Sophie, to write to Captain Wilde, and to
+mention merely the facts that Miss Aguilar had come out under his
+protection with the purpose of joining them at Constantinople—that
+immediately upon landing at Genoa she had mysteriously disappeared, and
+that though the most vigilant search had been instituted, and kept up
+even to the present moment, no clue to her retreat had been found.
+
+It has been said by some philosopher that “Without disease and pain, we
+should never know that we have a body—and without sin and remorse, never
+feel that we have a spirit.” Raymond Withers could have controverted the
+first part of this proposition by his own experiences—he was deliciously
+conscious of his bodily existence through its perfect health and keen
+enjoyments; but he could have endorsed the latter clause with a pen
+dipped in tears of blood. Through all its downy coverings of soft
+voluptuousness, his spirit had been reached and wounded to the very
+quick; and the method of his remorse was quite characteristic.
+
+By his own agony at the loss of Rosalia, he was enabled for the first
+time to understand and sympathize with the just and the greater anguish
+of Hagar at his desertion, and to comprehend in a word, the enormity of
+his offence. He might have gone on in his luxurious self-indulgence and
+self-enjoyment for years, had he not yielded to a strong temptation, and
+wounded his spirit with sin. Now all luxury palled upon his senses—he
+turned, sickened, from the choicest viands of his table—despairing from
+the most delightful prospects of nature, and from the most beautiful
+specimens of art—music was torture, and even in the deepest repose of
+his body the wounds of his spirit were most keenly felt, until the
+sensitive epicurean, who would have shrunk from the slightest abrasion
+of his delicate skin—invoked bodily pain as a relief from spiritual
+anguish.
+
+Was this illicit love cured, then? Ah, no! not when just as the cup of
+guilty pleasure had been raised to his lips, it had been dashed untasted
+to the ground—not when just as the prize was within his grasp it had
+been snatched away. Nay, that very disappointment of his hopes at the
+moment of their expected realization sharpened and intensified his
+desire, while the sin—the sin, as well as the remorse he suffered, gave
+power and depth to his passion! The boon for which he had bartered his
+soul, defied God, and lost Heaven, became by the costly purchase a
+priceless treasure.
+
+There is a crisis in the rise and progress of an evil passion, when its
+victim becomes morally insane, I had nearly written morally
+irresponsible.
+
+It is the period described in the beautiful language of Scripture, as
+the time when the Spirit of God ceases to strive with the heart of
+man—when he is given over to reprobacy of mind—when Ephraim, joined to
+his idols, is left alone—when the prodigal son receives his portion and
+is suffered to go forth and seek the desire of his heart, and find by
+bitter experience, that forbidden things may be bright to the vision but
+scorching to the touch—as the restless and eager infant permitted at
+last to catch at the coveted flame of the candle, learns by its own
+suffering that pain follows the contact of fire—in a word, when the
+unbeliever is suffered to prove for himself the bitterness of sin. Is
+this utter abandonment then? Ah, no! The heart that has sinned,
+suffered, and repents, is forgiven. The babe has burned its fingers, and
+learned that the flame is not to be touched with impunity, and we may be
+sure it will not be touched again. The returning prodigal is received
+half way without a single reproach for the past, without the exaction of
+a single pledge for the future; is received upon his experience and his
+penitence. Ephraim turning from his idols, is accepted; and the Spirit
+of God comes again to dwell in the heart that is opened to receive him.
+I say again, when a violator of the moral law suffers, it is not by the
+vengeance of a God of infinite love and mercy—but it is by a pain he
+finds in the sin itself. But this by the way.
+
+The downward progress of evil has been aptly called a gently inclined
+plane, of so gradual a descent that the sinner believes himself to be
+walking on level ground all the while. “Easy is the descent to hell,”
+said Horace, and doubtless such is most frequently the case; but there
+are instances in which the downward course is very rapid; where the
+sinner has started in a run, and after a while—and this answers to the
+crisis, the insanity of passion—_gets an impetus_ that makes a pause
+_impossible_, until he falls prostrate at the bottom of the abyss.
+
+Such was the case with Raymond Withers—he had reached the crisis of his
+moral disorder—the insanity of passion—when he was scarcely responsible
+for his acts; yet not upon this account shall he enjoy impunity for he
+could, by a little timely self-discipline, have saved himself from moral
+mania.
+
+He is answerable for the loss of his moral sanity, if not for acts of
+his phrensy. But to those acts: With the fatuity of passion, he fancied
+that were he free to seek the hand of Rosalia, her conscience would be
+quieted, her reluctance overcome, and that she would give a cheerful
+response to his love. He brooded over this idea of freedom from his
+matrimonial bonds with the pertinacity of monomania, until it seemed
+possible—next probable—then every way natural, proper, and
+desirable—finally inevitable. A savage resolution, by fair means or
+foul, to divorce his wife,—or, what was more feasible in his
+apprehension, to compel her to divorce him—a morose determination to
+recover and marry Rosalia, at any cost of his own integrity and peace,
+and others’ rights and happiness, occupied his whole thoughts. It was
+just at this crisis that he received a letter from Hagar. It was dated
+from Heath Hall, just after the birth of her son. It announced that
+fact, and gave a short but full account of all that happened since he
+left home, as well as of all her plans for the future, as far as she had
+laid them out. Could you have seen the succession of quick, short,
+self-congratulatory nods with which he read this letter, the smile of
+fiendish inspiration with which he folded it up and placed it in his
+desk, you would have given him up for lost, though you had been his very
+guardian angel!
+
+With this diabolical grimace still upon his face, Raymond Withers took
+pen and paper, sat down and wrote a reply, sealed and sent it off that
+same day by a homeward-bound vessel.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+                           THE WOUNDED EAGLE.
+
+              “Eagle, this is not thy sphere!
+              Warrior bird! what dost thou here?
+              Wherefore by the fountain’s brink
+              Dost thy royal pinion sink?
+              Wherefore on the violet’s bed
+              Lay’st thou thus thy drooping head?
+              Thou, that hold’st the blast in scorn—
+              Thou, that bear’st the wings of morn!
+              Lift thy glance! The fiery sun
+              Now his pride of place hath won!
+              And sweet sound hath filled the air,
+              For the mountain lark is there.
+              Looking on thine own bright skies—
+              Eagle! wilt thou not arise?”
+                                                  HEMANS.
+
+
+The spring and summer had passed, and autumn was at hand, yet Hagar had
+received no letter, or message, or news of her husband. True, the
+foreign mail was very irregular, interrupted, and uncertain, for those
+were not the days of steamships, and Emily had not heard from her
+brother for several months. Hagar bore the slow torture of suspense as
+well as she could, occupying herself with the care of her three
+children. She was abandoned to a life that would have been utter
+solitude, but for the society of her children and the attendance of her
+servants. At first coming home, she had regularly attended divine
+service at the parish church; but seeing that her presence there merely
+drew off the attention of the congregation from their ritual to gaze her
+out of countenance, as though she had been a monster, and feeling,
+besides, a difficulty in worshipping among a set of people, who, from
+malice or thoughtlessness, had slandered and forsaken her, she
+discontinued her attendance upon the preaching, thereby giving occasion
+for fresh calumny. The hours not occupied with her family cares were
+occasionally spent in the pursuits of her old and favorite pastimes, her
+forest hunts with horse and hounds, or her fishing excursions in a light
+skiff propelled by one oar. But she liked best her exhilarating woodland
+sports with their lifegiving power. The resumption of these healthful
+but half savage habits, gave additional offence to the conventional
+autocrats of —— county. In her rides she seldom met any one, because her
+excursions were confined to the Heath and woodlands of her own ruined
+plantation; so seldom, that when it happened, the person who had seen
+her would say, “I have met Hagar Withers,” in much the same tone that
+you might exclaim, “I have encountered the sea-serpent.” And the hearer
+would cry “Indeed! where?” with as much astonishment in the first case
+as they might be supposed to feel in the last. It happened that the
+first person who had met her in her riding costume was that princess of
+propriety, Mrs. Gardiner Green, who, taking a hasty inventory of her
+short, black, boyish looking curls clustering around her forehead and
+under her little riding cap, and the rolling collar, steel buttons, and
+coat-sleeves of her habit, had gone away and reported as follows: “She
+has cut off her hair, and dresses like _a man_!” In her perfect
+isolation, Hagar heard nothing of all this latter talk.
+
+I said that God was a kind father and Nature a tender, nursing mother;
+and that our Hagar was getting well under their care. And so it was. In
+spite of all her past wrongs, griefs, and sufferings, in defiance of all
+her present regrets, suspense, and anxieties, her spirits had rebounded
+from their long pressure; health, strength, and life were tiding back.
+The first of October found her form erect and robust, her limbs full and
+rounded, her cheeks crimson, and her eye brilliant with high health; and
+Hagar, in her returning joy, blessed her native air, woods, and waters;
+praised nature, and worshipped God for her resurrection from the dead,
+her restoration to the young exultant life of her glad childhood. And
+what were her plans for the future, and what were her thoughts of her
+husband? Perhaps wearied with the weight of the incessant thoughts, her
+mind had thrown off the burden; perhaps rebounding from the long and
+heavy pressure, her spirits had sprung away from the painful subject;
+perhaps with the natural wildness of her character she had yielded
+herself up with childish carelessness to the enjoyments of the present
+moment. She was disturbed in the midst of her enjoyments by the arrival
+of a letter bearing a foreign stamp. She found it lying on her plate
+when she took her seat at the breakfast-table one morning. It had been
+brought by Tarquinius from the Post Office late on the previous night,
+after she had gone to rest. She snatched the letter hastily, and tearing
+open its seal, read—why do Hagar’s cheeks flush, her eyes blaze with
+indignation? The letter conveyed a gross and degrading charge, a
+humiliating and cruel proposition, and a startling and alarming threat!
+yet withal, so cautiously written, as were it produced in any court, it
+would be difficult to convict the _writer_ of any more serious offence
+than outraged affection and injured confidence. It ran thus:
+
+
+                                                “GENOA, July 15th, 182-.
+
+  “HAGAR:—I have just received your letter, with its strange
+  communications—_confessions_, I should rather call them; had such a
+  blow fallen on me a year ago, when I did not know you so well, when I
+  esteemed and loved you, it would have gone nigh to destroy me! even
+  now when I can esteem you no longer, it has given me the deepest pain,
+  more for your sake than for my own, and more upon our children’s
+  account than either. Hagar, was it that Satan, after having tempted
+  you to evil, abandoned you to idiocy; was it fatuity? or, was it the
+  goading of a wounded conscience that drove you to make these shameful
+  revelations to me? Or, as is most likely, did you hope by being the
+  _first_ to tell me of what was inevitable, that with or without your
+  communications, I must soon hear, and by giving your own version of
+  the doings at the Rialto, you could thus blind me as to the _real_
+  state of the case? If you thought so, Hagar, you yourself were the
+  victim of gross self-deception. I will not reproach while judging and
+  condemning you, Hagar; that were vain and unworthy, but before
+  pronouncing sentence, I will sum up the evidence of your guilt as
+  given in your own unconscious confession, and out of your own mouth
+  condemn you, for, however you may attempt to glaze over the facts,
+  they stand thus: No sooner has your husband quitted his home, upon his
+  official duties, than lo! his place in your house is filled by the
+  lover of your girlhood, Lieutenant May, who, without delay, hastens
+  over five hundred miles of sea and land to join you: he remains with
+  you domesticated under your roof for weeks, and until the house is
+  sold over your heads, while every respectable female servant quits the
+  premises. He takes you from the neighborhood where I had left you, and
+  where I expected when I should return to find you, and carries you off
+  to Maryland. On the night of your arrival, under favor of the storm,
+  you pass the night alone together in the old fishing-house, within an
+  eighth of a mile of Heath Hall, which you might have reached in ten
+  minutes. Then your neighbors, shocked and justly indignant at the
+  audacious effrontery of this shameless disregard of public sentiment,
+  have very properly abandoned you.
+
+  “Now, then, Hagar, hear me! Since your betrayal of these disgraceful
+  circumstances to my knowledge, I feel a re-union between us to be
+  impossible. _You_ must see and feel this also—nay, you yourself could
+  not desire it. Our marriage must be annulled. _I_ could do it by
+  widely exposing your guilt, and bringing you to open shame. I am
+  unwilling to take this course, unless by rejecting the only
+  alternative that I have to offer, you leave me no other. This
+  alternative will veil your guilt from the general eye—it is a self
+  immolating proposition on my part, as I prefer to suffer in myself the
+  unmerited condemnation of society, rather than have the mother of my
+  children, however well she may deserve the fate, consigned to
+  ignominy. My proposition, in a word, is _this_—that _you yourself_
+  annul our marriage—that you divorce _me_—you can do it upon the plea
+  of my desertion of you—suppose that plea was false when I left the
+  country, it is true _now_ that I have detected your infidelity—urge
+  that plea—your suit will not be rejected, for the reason that I shall
+  not oppose it—_Do_ it, Hagar! and in return, after it _is_ done, I
+  will bind myself to leave you in quiet possession of your home and
+  children for the remainder of our lives—_Refuse_ to do it, Hagar! and
+  I will return to the United States, and with the terrible array of
+  circumstances that can be marshalled against you, I will overwhelm
+  you, divorce and degrade you, and when that is effected, remove my
+  children from the care of a dishonored woman, whom private experience,
+  public sentiment, legal justice, and legislative wisdom shall have
+  alike condemned, as unworthy of their charge. I await your reply,
+  Hagar.
+
+                                                                  R. W.”
+
+
+I wish you could have seen Hagar as she read this letter—how much more
+courageous she was in the endurance than in the anticipation of this
+evil. You would have felt how strong she had grown in her sorrows, how
+nobly she had struggled, and how grandly she had soared above them. How,
+after the first start and flash of indignation, she had read the letter
+through, and holding it open on her lap, looked straight before her with
+that air of calm superiority, of grave rebuke, with which one regards
+the ravings of intoxication.
+
+“I will not reply to this just yet,” said Hagar, to herself—and folding
+the letter, she put it in her pocket and fell into a reverie. It was
+during this reverie that Hagar was inspired with a resolution, and
+formed a highly important plan, which, in a few weeks, she prepared to
+carry into effect.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXIX.
+                             A REVELATION.
+
+                       “With wild surprise
+         As if to marble struck, devoid of sense,
+         A stupid moment motionless he stood
+         Pierced by severe amazement, hating life,
+         Speechless and fixed in all the death of woe.”
+                                             THOMSON’S SEASONS.
+
+                           “Oh! thou lost
+           And ever gentle victim—whose most fearful
+           Fate darkens earth and heaven—what thou now art
+           I know not, but if thou saw’st what I am,
+           I think thou would’st forgive him—whom his God
+           May ne’er forgive—nor his own soul.”
+                                               BYRON’S CAIN.
+
+
+From the time of his sending the letter to Hagar, Raymond Withers had
+renewed his search after Rosalia Aguilar with augmented hope and zeal.
+For the result of his proposition to her he scarcely felt a doubt. Over
+that high and proud nature, which had bowed before no will beneath the
+Supreme, he had, through the power of her strong affections, ever held
+despotic sway. Now indeed he had undertaken a more difficult task, to
+set in antagonism the two strongest, fiercest passions of her soul, to
+oppose her motherly love to her wifely affection; and though even by her
+maternal fears he should fail to extinguish her conjugal love, at least
+to silence the cry of its claims—to subdue the wife by the mother. But
+Raymond Withers was soon to learn that he had not sounded the depths,
+measured the extent, or tested the strength of the soul he wished to
+subdue; and how a few months of peace and stormy struggle and suffering
+had revolutionized her nature; that the tempest into which he had lashed
+her strong soul had only revealed from what an abyss the waves rolled up
+in their mighty power, and then subsided into passionless and profound
+calm; that the conflagration he had kindled in her high heart had only
+served to consume the dross and leave it pure and cool.
+
+It was while waiting with great impatience to receive letters from two
+opposite quarters of the world, namely, from Hagar at the Heath, and
+from Captain Wilde at Constantinople, and while expecting with extreme
+anxiety to hear news from that terra incognita, the retreat of Rosalia,
+that he received in a packet of despatches from the State Department, a
+letter from Hagar.
+
+“Now then!” exclaimed Raymond Withers, as he hastened to his own
+chamber, and shutting himself up in its privacy, broke the seal of the
+letter, running his eyes eagerly over its contents—they were as follows:
+
+
+                                      “WASHINGTON CITY, Oct. 15th, 182-.
+
+  “DEAREST RAYMOND:—Your letter, with all its insanities, is lying
+  before me. I received it two weeks since at Heath Hall, I reply to it
+  from my present residence, Washington City. Yes, I have left Heath
+  Hall for many years’ absence and wanderings perhaps, and this city is
+  only my transient home: passing over the reasons and the objects of
+  this course, I will come at once to the subjects more interesting to
+  your heart than any chance of time or tide that may happen to me can
+  be now, unless indeed such chance should remove me from the world,
+  which would be ‘a consummation devoutly to be wished,’ you think, in
+  your present state of mind. Passing also over all that is false in
+  your letter, through all that is superficial in your nature, I lay my
+  hand upon your naked heart and assert that it does not cherish one
+  single suspicion of my purity, that no man in earth or in hell could
+  infuse there one single doubt of my fidelity, because I am true—that
+  is truth—real in your convictions as in my experience, and that truth
+  will bind us together, that truth will bring you back to me. You once
+  told me that during your long and frequent absences before our
+  marriage, you trusted—to me—the spirit that even in the form of an
+  infant attracted, fascinated, and delighted you—and until passion
+  subverted my reason, and your soul was drowned in voluptuousness,
+  raised us both as one almost to Heaven. How high, how godlike you
+  appeared to me then, Raymond; aye, in very truth the image of God;
+  your tone could still the wildest tumult, your glance subdue the
+  fiercest tempest that ever arose in my stormy bosom.
+
+  “You told me that then you had trusted _in_ me, not _out_ of me; _in_
+  me, for our future union and joy. I quote your own words to assure you
+  that you may _now_ trust _not out_ of me, but _in_ me, for our _final_
+  _re_union and happiness. Your faith in me will save you, Raymond; will
+  make you whole, will redeem you, will bring you back. Does this seem
+  strange language to you, and wide of the subject of your letter? So
+  must ever the words of truth and soberness seem to one bereft of his
+  reason—as you are now—and how can one reply satisfactorily to the
+  ravings of insanity! _You_ are insane, Raymond, as ever your father
+  was in a different way; his insanity was derangement of the brain,
+  yours a disorder of the heart; his madness was mental aberration,
+  yours is moral illusion. Ah, Raymond! how much more frequent, how much
+  more horrible, how much more dangerous is moral than mental insanity!
+  and how much more heavily visited of man, however it may be met by
+  God! You are insane, Raymond! yes, brainsick, as well as heartsick
+  _now_; and in your delirium you would exact that which I must not give
+  you, and you threaten to visit an awful vengeance on my head if I do
+  not comply with your demands. I am smiling, Raymond! smiling to recall
+  a scene between a slight and fair-haired youth and his father in one
+  of his fits of lunacy; the figure of the lunatic stood up, tall, dark,
+  and threatening; the youth had dispossessed him of a razor, with which
+  he was about to cut his own throat, ‘Give it me! or I will tear your
+  heart out!!’ yelled the madman, stamping and shaking with fury, while
+  flakes of foam started from his lips. The beautiful boy stood before
+  him pale, calm, and resolute; with that spirit of indomitable
+  firmness, of invincible courage, piercing strongly, steadily through
+  the soft fire of his eyes, keeping his gaze fixed upon the lunatic,
+  until the mighty force of his _sane_ soul cast out the devil, and
+  subdued the ‘embodied storm’ before him! Do _you_ remember that scene,
+  Raymond? I was an infant of seven years old then; but, oh! how my soul
+  worshipped that sublime boy! How my spirit, that soared proudly above
+  every other sublunary authority, bowed before that godlike boy! But
+  now that lofty soul is itself struck down, that fine spirit wounded,
+  that great heart inflamed, fevered, delirious, and soars in its
+  phrensy for a weapon of self-destruction, which I will as soon give,
+  Raymond, as you would have yielded to the demands and threats of the
+  madman the razor that you withheld at the imminent peril of your life.
+  Ask me for a divorce a year hence, when you are sane, Raymond, and I
+  will give it to you—for I would not hold an unwilling mate—no, my God!
+  my whole soul recoils from the idea; but I cannot _now_ obey you,
+  Raymond; painful and humiliating as it is to me, as it _must_ be to me
+  to refuse you this! and more than that, disregard your _alleged_
+  reasons, and addressing myself to your consciousness, reply to your
+  _real_ motives.—You do not wish to be free from your matrimonial
+  engagements for the cause you have expressed; namely, a doubt of my
+  fidelity—no, Raymond! you trust in my honor as you believe in God!—No,
+  Raymond; there was an even stronger motive, if such could be, for your
+  wish. In the whole course of your letter you did not once mention the
+  name of your _compagnon-du-voyage_, Rosalia Aguilar; yet was _she_ the
+  Alpha and Omega of your thoughts? Come! I can think, speak, and write
+  of her very calmly now. You wish to marry Rosalia. Why, Raymond, you
+  will tire of her in a year, even if she lives. She is a sweet and
+  lovable girl, yet you do not love her as you _have_ loved and _will_
+  love me. You will sicken of her sweetness as a child sickens of a
+  surfeit of honey. You will loathe her very charms and graces, her
+  lovely and artless smiles and tones and gestures—that very melody of
+  motion which entrances you _now_—as only a voluptuary _can_ loathe the
+  poor beauty that he has humbled and grown sick of. And were you
+  married to her then, why then there would be _another_ deserted wife,
+  and where would it stop? Forgive me that I speak to you so, Raymond—it
+  costs me much pain—much more pain than it costs you. To take this tone
+  towards you humbles _me_ in my own estimation, more than it can you. I
+  cannot bear to look at you with any but an upraised glance. Alas! to
+  see you _now_, I have to look down with veiled eyes. Rise, Raymond,
+  rise! I want to see you aloft! my heart _needs_ to worship, as it
+  _must_ always love—_must_, Raymond! annihilate my soul, and the last
+  spark that will go out will be its love.
+
+  “I said that you would tire of that poor girl in a year if _she
+  lives_, but she will _not_ live, Raymond; the tempest of passion
+  that you have raised in her tender bosom, the hell of remorse that
+  you have kindled in her gentle soul will destroy her; she will not
+  survive the loss of her purity one year. I do not know what she
+  feels, how she looks now, but I know that she had frightfully
+  changed even before she left the Rialto, before she guessed what I
+  even _then_ knew. But _you_ know how she looks, you, perhaps, see
+  the rose you have plucked and bruised for its fragrance, withering
+  in your hands. You see her dying before you, and you fancy that if
+  you could marry her she would be at peace, get well and live. You
+  think you could cure a conscience-stricken soul by satisfying a
+  conventional law. But such would not be the case, nor can I now obey
+  you in this matter of a divorce. Ask it of me this day twelve
+  months, or any day thereafter, and I will do it. I pledge myself to
+  that. Ask it of me sanely, honestly, dispassionately, and I will do
+  it. Could I then hold you bound, if you wished to go? No! though my
+  heart-strings are your only fetters, I will snap them to free you.
+
+  “But you will not ask me to do this _when you come to yourself_. I
+  look for this result, confidently, as I expect the storm now beating
+  against my windows to cease, and the moon to shine out; quietly, as I
+  watch for the night now hanging over the earth to vanish before the
+  rising sun; patiently, as I wait for this cold, dreary winter to pass
+  away and the spring to come back. The storm in _my_ bosom has
+  subsided, the night also of my soul is passed. I have suffered and
+  outlived the greatest sorrow a human heart could feel, the worst is
+  over, and my existence is now a winter day,
+
+                          “‘Frosty but kindly.’
+
+  I am very quiet now; do you wonder at this, and that I write to you so
+  calmly—I who was an embodied whirlwind, so coolly—I whom you called
+  incarnated lightning! Listen, Raymond—the carriage wheels that carried
+  you away, seemed to have rolled over my bosom, crushing it nearly to
+  death. I felt the crush distinctly as any other physical agony—the
+  dividing crush of flesh and muscle, nerve and sinew, while with a
+  sharp cry I rolled over like a divided and quivering worm. I was
+  picked up by Mrs. Collins, who asked me what was the matter. I told
+  her that, lying in your path, an obstruction, your carriage had passed
+  over my body, cutting it in two; that one half, with my heart, was
+  dragged away with the wheels. They put me to bed, and said that I was
+  delirious—sent for a doctor, who bled, blistered, and drugged me. I
+  was ill a very long time. I moaned and laughed, prayed and blasphemed
+  by turns; they said that I was mad, but I was not, not for one moment.
+  Ah! if I had been mad, I should not have raved so! for what in all the
+  imaginings of insanity could equal the horrors of my real experience,
+  my sane consciousness? When my veins seemed running fire—when I burned
+  and burned, and held up my hands to see why they did not fall to
+  pieces in cinders and white ashes, consuming as they were in a dry
+  heat. That ‘lake of fire and brimstone!’ it was within and around me!
+  Often I threw myself out of the bed as out of a pit of coals, and in
+  my strong agony grasped and tore at the floor like one shot through
+  the heart might do. Oh! what a rack existence was then! I wished to
+  take vengeance on all who had a hand in giving me life-God and my
+  parents. Suddenly in the midst of that horrible feeling, I was struck
+  with its awful blasphemy, penetrated with the truth of God’s goodness
+  and mercy—lastly of his omnipotence; and then falling again out of my
+  bed, I rolled upon my face on the carpet and implored God in mercy to
+  take back the life He had given, the life that was consuming fire—to
+  give me the profound repose of non-existence—and if this prayer was
+  sinful, at least to annihilate the _hell_ in my heart. And now,
+  Raymond, for a strange experience. As I prayed all things seemed
+  changing around me—the air seemed stirred with angel wings, I could
+  hear their hushed flapping as they waved a delicious cold dampness
+  that seemed to cool my fevered and burning frame while it solicited
+  sleep; and all this time my heart’s wild hot throbs were subsiding
+  coolly, while it filled and filled as a reservoir with peace; and
+  every influence around me said gently, lovingly, ‘Sleep, sleep,’ and
+  the hot stringency of my eyelids was loosened, and they fell cool and
+  moist over the burning balls. And I slept and dreamed, a dream of
+  infancy—it seemed to me that I lay across grandmother’s dear, soft
+  lap, that it was summer and she was fanning me, while a delicious
+  coolness ran through all my veins, and filtered through all my flesh,
+  exhaling vapor-like from the pores of my skin, as I felt myself
+  luxuriously sleeping, breathing, and growing. Then came
+  unconsciousness—and then I woke up renewed, the fever and the agony
+  were gone, I was so cool, so quiet, that but for an aching, throbbing
+  nerve in the centre of my heart I should have thought that I was
+  happy; some element was gone, the fangs of the serpent seemed to have
+  been withdrawn, the vulture had taken wing and left my heart to grow;
+  this was only a pause in the torture, like an interval of repose in
+  travail. Soon your letter came; and, your letter written just on the
+  eve of departure, and it cast me back into the fire, and the same
+  suffering was undergone again. But the same relief came at last. I was
+  getting well. I was up, though scarcely able to stand or to speak, and
+  quivering all over like the recoiling muscles of a torn off limb, when
+  Gusty May came to see me, and the shock of his arrival threw me back a
+  third time into death and hell, for I saw that _he knew all!_ that
+  killed the last faint lingering hope I had. It was during this third
+  and worst relapse, that the executions were levied on your property.
+  Well, Raymond, I recovered of this attack also! but it was not until I
+  reached Heath Hall, and until after my third child, our boy, was born,
+  that my health was fully re-established. I am in high health, now,
+  Raymond! and cool, composed, cheerful, strong, and mistress of myself.
+  The storm of hail and snow that was raging with fury when I commenced
+  this letter, has passed, and the moon is shining bright, full, and
+  clear as a mammoth diamond, and glistening on the silvery snow, its
+  beams fall on my paper and around my head like a halo, a benediction
+  of God, a promise of happier and holier days. Farewell for the
+  present, Raymond; my home and heart are ever open for your return. I
+  do not love you too fiercely now, Raymond, for I have all eternity to
+  love you in. You are not just now my Raymond, but I am now and ever
+  thy
+
+                                                                 HAGAR.”
+
+
+It was curious—the effect of this letter upon Raymond Withers. The first
+page he had perused with a frowning brow—opening the sheet with a
+twitch, the second page he read with many a “pish!” and “pshaw!”—the
+third was conned over with a softening countenance, and at the end of
+the fourth and last he exclaimed—“What the devil sent that infernal
+temptation across my path?—poor Hagar!” And then holding the letter
+behind him, he paced slowly up and down the room, with his head bowed
+upon his chest, while remorse, tenderness, disappointment, and regret,
+mingled in the expression of his once serene countenance. This was
+strange in the fact, but natural in the circumstances. His affection for
+Hagar had engaged his whole soul. She was one to be loved long, as well
+as deeply; her unique beauty, brilliant intellect, and high spirit, from
+her very childhood, had supplied to him an inexhaustible subject of
+occupation, interest, and amusement—she had met and satisfied every want
+of his nature. It was impossible, with her strong and ardent temperament
+and ever-varying emotions, that she could become flat and uninteresting.
+His passion for Rosalia was another matter, a mere delirium of the
+senses, a moral insanity, as Hagar had at last understood and described
+it to be, and as he himself now knew it to have been—to _have been_—for
+this passion, stimulated and increased as it had at first been by her
+flight, by her continued absence, was already receding into the past.
+Raymond Withers was too much of a sensualist, and his love for Rosalia
+too much an affair of the senses to last long after she was lost to
+sight and hearing; therefore for many weeks past his passion had been
+declining, slowly, almost imperceptibly, but it was reserved for Hagar’s
+letter to reveal to him the true state of his heart. Now he felt that
+his search for Rosalia had of late been conducted from the habit of
+looking for her until he should have found her, from a fear that she was
+lost, had perished by exposure, and from a remorse not to be shaken off
+while her fate was enveloped in mystery. He was conscious now,
+especially after reading Hagar’s letter, that he was more anxious to
+hear of Rosalia’s safety than even to see her—and the more he pondered
+upon this subject, the more convinced did he feel that he no longer
+desired her presence. A strongly setting-in tide of returning affection
+for Hagar filled his bosom to the expulsion of every other love—an
+affection purified by repentance, softened by pity, and elevated by
+respect. It was strange how slowly, imperceptibly, but how thoroughly he
+had come to his senses. He read Hagar’s letter over again, and sighed
+many times during its perusal, and sometimes paused and held it on his
+knee while he tried to recollect the atrocities of his letter to her,
+and endeavored to persuade himself that it was not quite so diabolical
+as he knew it to have been. He arose and walked up and down the floor,
+with his hands holding the letter clasped behind him, and his head bowed
+upon his breast—deeply perplexed; and then he went up to the full length
+mirror that stood at one end of his luxurious dressing-room, and
+contemplating his elegant figure and really dazzling style of beauty,
+wondered impulsively if Hagar would not be very glad to get him back
+upon any terms; and then feeling ashamed of his thought, he resumed his
+walk, deeply congratulating himself that they had been preserved from
+the last degree of guilt, and that at least the door was at all times
+open for a man’s return to duty, however sternly it might be barred
+against a repenting woman, and at that thought, again he thanked God
+that Rosalia Aguilar had been snatched from him, before she had fallen
+to the lowest stage of crime. But where _was_ Rosalia? Ah! that was the
+thorn that rankled most; but there were others—how should he write to
+Hagar until she was found? and in what terms should he write?—how
+apologize for that “infernal letter,” as he called it, as he tried to
+recollect that it was not quite so bad as he remembered it to have been,
+and then, whither should he direct his letter? Where would it be likely
+to find her? Hagar was on the wing; at this last thought, he experienced
+a satisfaction in the reflection that here was something at last on her
+part to find fault with—she had no right to roam up and down the world
+without having previously informed him of her views and intentions, and
+obtained his approbation and consent. He tried to convince himself that
+this was an infringement of his rights, a rebellion against his
+authority; it was a useless effort—his heart and reason acquitted her of
+all blame, and he was left to support his own load of guilt, remorse,
+and shame, unsustained by any counterbalancing sin on her side.
+
+He was conscious of a vague but strong desire that Hagar might fall into
+some imprudence, misery, or disgrace, from which he might have the honor
+of rescuing her, so that he might be entitled to her gratitude and
+respect, and so approach her with some remnant of self-respect. The idea
+of going to her in any other character than that of protector,
+benefactor—to receive her love upon any other terms than those of honor,
+esteem—oh! this was too humiliating, and not to be thought of. He did
+not want her generosity, magnanimity, forgiveness; oh! nothing of the
+kind—the idea repulsed, revolted him—he would do nothing of the sort—no,
+he must have her love, coupled as it had been with the high respect
+reaching almost to adoration, such as she had yielded him as his due
+even from her infancy up. He felt that it was no small thing to have
+held the sovereignty over Hagar’s high spirit, and that it was no small
+humiliation to have lost it by his folly.
+
+There was now a strong attraction and as strong a repulsion about the
+idea of Hagar—the most tantalizing that could be conceived, and that
+chained him to the rack. Her letter had struck away, as by the stroke of
+a strong arm, all that stood between them, and he saw her in all her
+beauty, in her fearful but fascinating beauty!—he desired of all things
+on earth to seek her, and could scarcely restrain his impatience; but he
+could not go, it seemed impossible. True, she had written, “My heart and
+home are ever open for your return,” and though no word of _penitence_
+might be spoken by him, no tone of _pardon_ breathed by her, yet the
+_thought_—the _fact_, would exist in the experience of both, and the
+_humiliation_ for him—he could not dare it, or bear it! The difficulties
+that obstructed his return to Hagar, all growing out of his own bosom as
+they did, only provoked by opposition his strong desire to see her. He
+might now with more truth than formerly have written her down, “Hagar,
+mine only one;” for now it seemed that there was but “one Hagar in the
+universe.” After the manner of all awakened sinners, how he deplored his
+sin!—after the manner of all restored maniacs, how he cursed his
+folly!—yea, after the manner of all sobered drunkards, how he blushed
+for his degradation! And could he appear before Hagar in that guise?
+before Hagar in her recovered and greatly increased strength and pride?
+Days passed, and the strongly turning stream of feeling was increased in
+force and volume by every circumstance and every thought. Still he
+continued uneasy upon the account of Rosalia; still extremely desirous
+of hearing from Captain Wilde; but, higher, deeper, and broader—covering
+all these, was the thought of Hagar. Ah, God! the more he contemplated
+it, the more alarming it became.
+
+Hagar, not quite twenty years old, young, yet strong, high spirited,
+audacious, proud of _herself_, apart from social position or the
+estimation of others—of Hagar, beautiful, piquant, and provoking beyond
+every other woman he ever saw—of Hagar, ardent, enthusiastic, and
+impulsive—but, no! he could not receive the idea suggested by this last
+circumstance; he could not conceive that his high-souled Hagar _could_
+become the victim of her ardent temperament. No, he believed as she had
+said, in her honor, as he believed in God. But some other man’s
+sacrilegious eyes might covet _her_ as he had coveted Rosalia—and she
+was human and might be tempted. At this thought Raymond sprang up from
+the sofa, upon which he had been reclining, with a sudden love and anger
+striving in his heart, as Hagar’s irresistibly charming face, with its
+crimson cheeks and lips and eyes of splendid fire, flashed in upon his
+brain, as in the days of her highest glory.
+
+“After all, she is mine—my _own_—I have not given her up _yet_! and
+never will—_never_! I will resist to the death any effort that may be
+made to tear her from my possession! Yes, Hagar, I may lose your heart,
+but I will even _slay_, rather than give you up. What right has she to
+leave her home and travel over the world exposing herself in this
+manner? and where does she find the means? I know that she travels with
+her family, for she would die rather than be severed from one of her
+children, and above all, what is her object? I should fancy that she
+were seeking me—God grant it!—I could face her, if she humbled herself
+to seek me—but no, she will never do that. No, if I ever hope to possess
+Hagar again, I shall have to _woo_ her again.”
+
+He was interrupted in the midst of his confused thoughts by the entrance
+of his page, who brought him the post-bag: emptying it, his eye fell
+upon a letter directed in the hand-writing of Sophie Wilde. The letter
+bore date two months back; it had evidently been detained on its
+passage. It was short, nearly illegible, and evidently written in the
+most excruciating anguish of mind. It ran thus:—
+
+
+                                        “CONSTANTINOPLE, Oct. 1st, 182-.
+
+  “DEAR RAYMOND:—The receipt of your letter, with its most terrible
+  intelligence, made me ill; so ill that for three weeks I have not been
+  able to rise from my bed, and so could not, before this, answer it.
+  Captain Wilde was not with me at the time of its receipt, and is not
+  here now. I had no one but foreigners around me—so that there was none
+  to act as my amanuensis, even had I been capable of dictating. In the
+  name of God, where is Rosalia? I have been looking, and am still
+  looking with anxiety, daily, for another letter from you, telling me
+  that she is found. A thousand fears and anxieties torture my breast.
+  Tell me, did she form any ill-judged attachment on her voyage out?—and
+  was any one else missing when she went? Tell me why did you not write
+  daily to keep me advised of your progress towards the discovery of her
+  fate? Raymond, I can scarcely hold you blameless! I require her at
+  your hands! never face me again without Rosalia’s insured safety! Yet,
+  how cruel in me to write to you thus; to you, who must be severely
+  afflicted at her loss. Oh, Raymond! you do not know how much right you
+  have to be so! You are the nearest, the only relative, she has on
+  earth! I have lately received, and now possess, incontestable proof of
+  what I am about to reveal to you:—_Rosalia Withers is your own sister,
+  Raymond!_—the daughter of both your parents——”
+
+
+He read no further; the paper fell from his stiffening fingers; a mortal
+sickness, _nausea_, seized him, horror swam in upon his brain, and
+barely murmuring—
+
+“Oh, my God! what a sink of crime and infamy I have narrowly escaped!”
+he fell forward upon his face!
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XL.
+                            HAGAR’S RESOLVE.
+
+         “Once more alone—and desolate, now, for ever
+           In truth the heart whose home was once in thine:
+         Once more alone on life’s terrific river,
+           All human hope, exulting I resign.
+
+         “Alone I brave the tempest and the terror,
+           Alone I guide my being’s fragile bark,
+         And bless the past with all its grief and error,
+           Since Heaven still bends above my pathway dark.
+
+         “At last I taste the joy of self-reliance;
+           At last I reverence calmly my own soul;
+         At last I glory in serene defiance
+           Of all the wrong that would my fate control.”
+                                             FRANCES S. OSGOOD.
+
+
+I must remind you that Hagar, after reading her husband’s letter, had
+fallen into a reverie that terminated in a resolve. It was inspired by a
+reflection upon her position and circumstances. She had three children,
+be it remembered, and all under three years old. She had no visible
+means of supporting herself and these children, for whom especially she
+wished to procure every comfort and every luxury that was desirable. She
+had drawn out the little balance left with his banker by Raymond
+Withers, and had used the greater part of it in paying her debts
+contracted with Gusty May; and what remained went to defray the expenses
+attending her last accouchement. She had nothing left. Winter was
+approaching, and the winters at Heath Hall, from its remarkably bleak
+and exposed situation, as well as from the ruinous state of the
+building, were felt very severely. Her own and her children’s wardrobe
+was becoming very much the worse for wear, and it was highly necessary
+that it should be replenished. In fact, poverty, absolute want, was
+staring Hagar in the face. It was proper that something should be done
+to supply her necessities before they became importunate. It was too
+late in the season now to apply to her husband for relief, even if she
+could have bowed her pride to do so. A letter could not reach him and
+its reply come to her before the spring. What should she do? To remain
+at Heath Hall through the winter was impossible. Little as the place
+_looked_ to be changed, every cold and windy day and every rainy day
+proved that no room in the house was weather-tight. When it rained the
+water streamed down into the very best room, as though it would set the
+carpet afloat. In cold weather it was even worse—the air poured in from
+all quarters, and no quantity of fire could warm the rooms. Tarquinius
+asserted with great truth, that to make a fire in the parlor was like
+trying to heat “all out of doors.” I should say, that from the bleakness
+of its situation the winter came a month sooner and remained a month
+later at the Heath, than at any other place within the same latitude.
+
+On that particular morning, when Hagar sat at the breakfast-table
+cogitating, it was cold and frosty everywhere, but it was _very_ cold
+and bleak at Heath Hall; and the old lady whom Hagar had engaged as a
+companion, leaving the table and seating herself before the immense
+blazing hickory fire, declared that while her knees were scorching off,
+her back “friz.” Hagar at first thought of disposing of some of her most
+salable property—these were her piano and harp; they might be sold in
+the neighborhood at about a tenth of their value; but how long would the
+money hold out in supplying the necessities of her family? and what was
+to be done when it was gone? Hagar next wondered if there were nothing
+she could herself do for a living; but she was forced to reject every
+plan that presented itself. Was it needle-work? How should _she_ live by
+her needle, who had not sufficient knowledge of that branch of industry
+to serve her in making and repairing her own wardrobe? Teaching? Ah!
+that was even _worse_. If to live by needle-work was difficult, to live
+by teaching was impossible. Hagar’s intellect was like her own favorite
+forest haunts, strong, vigorous, and brilliant, but wild, tangled, and
+uncultivated. She had especially laughed Lindley Murray’s grammar out of
+countenance, asserting that she could never comprehend it, and as for
+arithmetic, she refused to _try_—so that in these two highly “important
+branches of a good English education,” Hagar was wofully deficient, but
+far too honest to attempt to teach what she did not know. Still her
+thoughts recurred to her piano and harp, and it was while thinking of
+their sale that it occurred to her that she was in possession of one
+splendid and unemployed talent—and the sudden thought sent a thrill of
+joy through her heart, as she blessed God for the gift and for the
+present inspiration.
+
+She recollected hearing Raymond often say that her voice was admirably
+suited for concert practice—that he had heard all the celebrated singers
+of the day, and had never heard a voice or an execution like hers. She
+recollected to have heard that professional singers frequently made
+large fortunes. She remembered also hearing that several of these
+_artistes_ were deeply respected for the virtue and even for the piety
+of their private lives. There was nothing in Hagar’s pride to prevent
+her from embracing this career—her pride was strictly _personal_. She
+could not have been proud of her descent, of wealth, had she possessed
+it, of social position, or of any other external circumstance
+whatever—but she was proud of herself, that self that came alone into
+the world, and would go alone out of it. Hagar quickly decided upon her
+course. She was not one to renounce all the comforts, refinements, and
+elegances of life that had grown into a habit and a necessity, without
+an effort to retain them, and which she must resign without this or some
+equally lucrative plan of life. To this career she was drawn by her
+peculiar taste and genius; this would give her an opportunity of seeing
+that “world” so attractive to her eager and inquiring mind, and hitherto
+so completely hidden from her. In five minutes from the first
+inspiration of the idea, Hagar had laid out and matured all her plans.
+She determined, on her own responsibility, to have a sale and dispose of
+all her personal property that could be got rid of at any price, and
+with the proceeds to take her children and remove to Washington or
+Baltimore, and in one or the other of those cities to employ her musical
+talent in the most profitable manner. While thinking over these matters,
+and before rising from the table, she was startled by a rap at the door,
+apparently given with the butt-end of a riding-whip. To her quick “Come
+in!” Gusty May opened the door, looking half savage in his shaggy,
+white, box greatcoat, leather leggings, and foraging cap, and carrying
+in his hands a brace of canvas-back ducks. This was the first time he
+had been at the Hall since his banishment thence. She started up gladly
+to welcome him.
+
+“Good morning, Hagar! may I come in?”
+
+“Oh, yes, dear Gusty!—I am so delighted to see you!” exclaimed she, with
+brightening eyes, extending both hands to him.
+
+“Humph!—sight of me is good for sore eyes, ain’t it?”
+
+“Yes, indeed, Gusty, my best friend, why have not you been to see me all
+this dismal long time?”
+
+“Why have not I been to see you?—come, that will do. What did you tell
+me the last time I was over here!”
+
+“True! I recollect—I told you not to come again, unless you came with
+your mother, and I was right, Gusty; it was proper, both for _your_ sake
+and for mine that this should be so; only just now, Gusty, surprised and
+pleased at seeing you, I forgot myself for an instant.”
+
+“Yes! well! I came over here this morning, and took the liberty, Hagar,
+of shooting a pair of ducks on your moor. The bishop has come down to
+confirm at the church next Sunday, to-morrow, you know, and I thought
+that I would like to carry mother a pair of ducks to help out with the
+dinner, as the old bishop is very fond of our canvas-back ducks, and so,
+Hagar, having bagged my game, I could not pass the Hall like a poacher,
+without looking in.”
+
+“I am glad to see you, Gusty, notwithstanding all that I have said—do
+not I look so?”
+
+“Oh! yes, dear Hagar,” said Gusty, now for the first time seating
+himself in a chair near the fire, and setting his hat upon one side, and
+the pair of ducks on the other.
+
+“We caught—at least Tarquinius did—a fine drum yesterday evening; it is
+more than we shall use in a week, won’t you take half of it over to the
+cottage, Gusty?”
+
+Gusty mused a moment, and then replied—
+
+“No! I be hanged if I do, Hagar! You are very good, and _I_ thank you,
+but the inmates of Grove Cottage have used you too badly, Hagar! God
+forgive me for remembering and repeating it; but they have not deserved
+the slightest favor from your hands, Hagar!—I do not know how you can
+forgive them!”
+
+“See here, Gusty!” said she, laying her small hand affectionately on his
+arm, “they acted as their nature made it necessary for them to act, and
+their conduct does not grieve or anger me in the least; perhaps it
+inspires some contempt—but no, I take that back, for your sake, Gusty,
+and I assure you that their treatment gives me no pain. It is only those
+whom I love that possess any power over me, to torture me! if _you_,
+Gusty, had turned rascal on my hands, that circumstance would have
+caused me some suffering—but people I care little about! nonsense!”
+
+“It is _my mother_, though!” said Gusty, with a look of deep distress.
+
+“Yes, it is _your mother_, poor boy! Never mind, Gusty, take heart; she
+_is_ an excellent woman for all; and not the less so because she cannot
+comprehend _me_!”
+
+“Don’t let us talk any more about it, please!” said Gusty, with a look
+of deep humiliation.
+
+After a few minutes Gusty arose to go, saying, in an imploring voice, as
+he put on his hat and took up his ducks—
+
+“Hagar, if I can _ever_ be of any sort of service to you, for the Lord
+in Heaven’s sake, _do_ let me know, will you?”
+
+Hagar mused a moment, and then replied—
+
+“You _can_ be of great service to me, Gusty!”
+
+“Ah! can I? Tell me how? where? when?” exclaimed Gusty, gladly, dropping
+his ducks, doffing his hat, and reseating himself.
+
+“Not now, this is Saturday; come over and spend Monday evening with me,
+and I will tell you.”
+
+“Thank you, Hagar, thank you for this mark of confidence. I will
+certainly come. Good-by, dear Hagar.”
+
+He caught her hand, shook it heartily, and left the house. Even that day
+Hagar employed with the preliminaries of her preparations. Gusty May was
+faithful to his appointment, and Monday afternoon found him at Heath
+Hall. Hagar’s tea-table was waiting, and the old lady, her companion,
+was with her. She invited Gusty to take a seat at the board, and
+immediately after tea, when they had turned their chairs to the fire,
+and the old woman had left the room to put the children to bed, Hagar
+imparted her plan of public singing to Gusty. He was surprised, even to
+astonishment. Not understanding the nature of Hagar’s pride, he had
+deemed her _too_ proud for this career, and even ventured to hint that
+such had been his impression. Hagar smilingly disabused him of this
+erroneous idea; and then he hastened to say that as far as he himself
+was concerned he heartily approved of her plan, and pledged himself to
+do everything in his power to promote her object. The assistance she
+required from him was very slight, being only to act as her agent in the
+sale of several articles of her property. She requested him also not to
+reveal to any one her purpose in leaving the neighborhood. “Not that I
+care a great deal about it, Gusty, though I do not wish for ever to be
+on the lips of the gossips of Churchill’s Point, but, because,” said
+she, smiling archly, “it will be such a charity to afford Mrs. Gardiner
+Green and her _clique_ a subject of speculation, that will keep their
+tongues for some time off some poor unfortunate, who might otherwise
+have been their next victim, and also, because this racking and
+unsatisfied curiosity will be such a well merited punishment of their
+slandering propensities!”
+
+Gusty freely promised that he would not betray her confidence, and soon
+after took his leave. In a fortnight from this time, Hagar’s
+preparations were all complete. It was a glorious day in October, when,
+with her three children, she stepped aboard a packet bound up the bay to
+the mouth of the Potomac River and to Washington City. She had left
+Heath Hall as she had found it—namely, in the care of Cumbo and
+Tarquinius. She had not engaged a nurse or a waiting maid in the
+country, because she wished to cut off for the present all trace of her
+course, and to sink for at least a year or two to come, her old in her
+new existence. After mature deliberation she decided that Washington and
+Baltimore were both too near home for the commencement of her
+professional labors. An invincible repugnance kept her from the North,
+where she had taken her first lessons in suffering. Merely staying long
+enough in Washington to procure a nurse and a travelling maid, she
+turned her steps southward. It was under a _nom de guerre_ that Hagar
+Withers commenced her brilliant professional career at New Orleans in
+the year 182-. Every one who lived in that city at that time remembers
+the splendid concerts of Mrs. ——, a lady as remarkable for the stern
+asceticism of her private manners as for the brilliant success of her
+public career. Hagar’s greatest motive in entering upon this profession
+had been to achieve by the only means in her power an independence, and
+she had made a stern resolution of reserve, self-denial, and solitude,
+as the only way of preserving her from falling into her besetting sins
+of wildness and reckless gaiety, and towards which everything in her
+present life would conspire to draw her.
+
+Once or twice before taking the final step that was to place her so
+conspicuously before the world, while doubtful of the light in which her
+extremely fastidious husband might look upon this when it came to his
+knowledge, and while an instinct of _family_ pride, a rare thing with
+Hagar, prompted her, she thought, that she would do better to become a
+private teacher of music; but the idea was so repulsive that she quickly
+shrank from it. Her _personal_ pride, her independence, would suffer too
+much in this latter position. Her prejudices, the very few with which
+her mind was trammelled, were all against the profession; and that
+circumstance, taken with her unprotected condition, and the experience
+she had gained by the gossipping propensities of her old neighbors at
+Churchill’s Point, had fixed her firmly in the resolution she had
+formed, namely, of isolating herself with her young family during the
+hours not devoted to her public professional duties. Her winter at New
+Orleans was one chain of splendid successes, each more brilliant than
+the last. In the spring of 182-, she, still accompanied by her babies as
+a guard of cherubim, sailed from New Orleans for Havre, intending to
+make a professional tour of Europe for one year before returning to her
+native country.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+“Mother!” said Gusty May to Mrs. Buncombe, as they sat together in the
+parlor at Grove Cottage, a few days after Hagar’s departure from Heath
+Hall, “what do the good folks about here say of Hagar now?”
+
+“All that I have heard speak upon the subject, say that they are very
+glad she is gone to her husband—_if he can receive her_. And I am glad
+also. It has been a grief to me to absent myself from Hagar; but,
+really, you know, Gusty, she had cost me already too much, in your
+misfortunes.—I could not risk compromising my own position by her.”
+
+“It was not her fault, mother. But I am thinking of the wonderful
+charity of the folks in putting such a kind construction upon Hagar’s
+journey; strange they had not thought of accusing her of eloping with
+the captain of the packet in which she sailed! ’Pon honor, I shall begin
+to have some hope for the people of Churchill’s Point yet!” said Gusty,
+really surprised at the explanation they had given of her journey.
+
+“Hagar has given room for talk by getting into an anomalous position;
+why _should_ people find themselves in inconceivable situations? _I_
+never did, yet I was an unprotected girl.”
+
+Gusty looked at her in grave perplexity, divided between his wish to
+defend Hagar and his reverence for her; at last he said, smiling sadly—
+
+“Dear mother, Lewis Stephens, poor fellow! was drowned last summer, in a
+gale of wind!—Now, why _should_ people be drowned in a gale of wind? _I_
+never was, and _I_ have been in a gale of wind!”
+
+“Gusty, _hush_! you talk like—like a young man.”
+
+“And if I am to talk differently, I hope to God I may never live to be
+an old one.”
+
+“I deserve this from you, Gusty!” said his mother, with the tears
+welling up to her eyes.
+
+Gusty’s arms were around her neck in a moment.
+
+“Dear mother, forgive me! I meant no disrespect to you, indeed; but it
+is _so_ trying to see one of your excellent heart, so uncompromising to
+Hagar, for whom I have, God knows, a higher respect, deeper esteem, than
+for the whole world besides.”
+
+While they were conversing thus, the door opened, and Mr. Buncombe
+entered the parlor, and throwing a letter into his wife’s hand,
+exclaimed—
+
+“Well, here is the long-looked-for come at last!”
+
+It was a letter bearing a foreign stamp, and directed in the hand of
+Captain Wilde. Emily opened it hastily. Soon as she read, her face grew
+pale in consternation.
+
+“What is it, mother?” asked Gusty, approaching her.
+
+“What is it, dear Emily?” inquired her husband, leaning over her chair.
+
+“I hardly know myself; oh, heaven!”
+
+“Read it! tell us!” cried Gusty.
+
+“No one ill, I hope?” whispered the parson.
+
+“Rosalia is lost!”
+
+“LOST!” exclaimed Mr. Buncombe, in astonishment.
+
+Gusty sank upon a chair, his cheek turning white as death.
+
+“Lost! fled!” gasped Emily, still gazing on the sheet before her; “fled
+no one knows wherefore or whither!”
+
+“Inexplicable!” cried Mr. Buncombe.
+
+Gusty was devouring his mother’s face with his great eyes.
+
+“_Fled_, did you say—say _fled_, mother?”
+
+“FLED, Gusty!” sobbed Emily, “fled, my poor, dear, unfortunate
+boy!—_fled_—fled from the protection of Mr. Withers the very afternoon
+of their landing at Genoa!”
+
+Gusty jerked the letter out of his mother’s hand impulsively, and
+forgetting to apologize, ran up stairs with it, while Mr. Buncombe set
+himself to soothe and comfort Emily, and to win from her an account of
+the flight of Rosalia, with which the reader is already acquainted. Both
+were thrown into the utmost consternation by the news. To them it was a
+mystery of rayless darkness, for so far from having cast any light upon
+the subject of the flight it had announced, Captain Wilde’s letter
+expressed a faint hope that Emily might possess some clue to the fate of
+her adopted daughter.
+
+At last Emily thought of Gusty, and was preparing to go and try to
+soothe the anguish she believed he must be suffering, when the door was
+suddenly thrown open, and Gusty ran in with his countenance and manner
+highly excited as by a strange joy, exclaiming, screaming, as he waved
+the letter in circles above his head—
+
+“Hip! hip! hur-ra-a-a-a-a-a, mother! three times three now, mother! and
+special thanksgiving next Sunday, for this good, this great, this
+glorious news! Hurrah!”
+
+“_Good News!_ oh, my God, he is mad!” exclaimed Emily in extreme terror;
+“hold him, Buncombe!”
+
+“Yes, hold him, Buncombe! hold him, Buncombe! lest in his joy he bound
+like a cannon ball through the roof of the house! Hold him, Buncombe!”
+yelled Gusty, jumping into the arms of the reverend gentleman, seizing
+him about the waist, and whirling him round and round the room in a
+brisk gallopading waltz! Shriek after shriek burst from Emily’s
+terrified bosom, and brought all the household (being Kitty and a
+horse-boy) running into the room, just as Gusty had dropped the startled
+parson, and was standing panting with exertion, weeping for joy, and
+laughing for fun at the same time.
+
+“Take him into custody! secure him! before he hurts himself or somebody
+else!” exclaimed Emily, palpitating.
+
+“Take _who_ into custody?” exclaimed Gusty, looking round, “what’s
+done?”
+
+“Oh, heaven! will nobody bind him?” sobbed Emily, edging towards her
+son, cautiously.
+
+Gusty caught her to his bosom, and kissed her heartily, as he stooped
+and whispered breathlessly, his brain sobered a little by the alarm he
+had caused, but his heart still wildly throbbing with ecstatic joy—
+
+“_Mother!_ pshaw—_you_ know me! I’ll—I’ll—perhaps I’ll tell you why I’m
+overjoyed just presently; send all these gapers and starers away, and go
+and reassure his reverence, who, not being a fighting man, is bolstering
+himself up against the wall, not knowing what I am going to do next;
+there, _do_, mother! my blood is so unmanageable, it is getting up
+again! yes, here it comes! it’s going to boil over! I declare it is! I
+can’t help it! get out of my way! I won’t hurt anybody! hip! hip!
+hurrah!” and with that he bounded forward into the air, cut four or five
+capers more extravagant than the others, and ran from the room, leaving
+the assembled family dumb with astonishment.
+
+Having reached his own room, Gusty began to empty his drawers, wardrobe,
+&c., and to pack his clothing into a sea chest with great haste and
+zeal. While he was employed in this manner his mother came in, and
+tearfully sat down by him; seeing his occupation, a deeper shade of
+perplexity and anxiety came over her countenance, as she inquired:—
+
+“And what are you trying to do now, my poor, deluded boy?”
+
+Gusty took his hand out of his chest, and still resting upon one knee,
+assumed a look of profound composure, thinking doubtless that by this
+time his character for sanity was in serious danger, and replied,
+
+“Ahem! hem! Mother, as it is now near the opening of the session of
+Congress, and many of my own and my uncle’s professional and political
+friends are in Washington City, I think of going thither, and while they
+are on the spot, getting them to use their influence with the President
+to procure my reinstatement. You know, mother, this is the first good
+chance, because personal solicitation is so much more powerful than
+epistolary application.”
+
+Struck with the rationality of this reply, Emily was a little staggered
+in her opinion of his madness: however, she would try him further.
+
+“But this is a very sudden resolution, Gusty!”
+
+“Oh! I had been thinking of it for some days past, and the arrival of
+uncle’s letter, and the reminiscences of our naval life that it
+awakened, you know, suddenly inspired me with a strong desire to return
+to it—wasn’t that natural?”
+
+“Oh, yes! and I am glad! I had feared that you would have held to your
+resolution, never to apply for reinstatement.”
+
+“Ah! that resolution was one of my hasty impulses, mother! times and
+_motives_ have changed since then!” exclaimed Gusty, and he resumed his
+packing with renewed zeal.
+
+“But why pack your sea chest, Gusty?”
+
+“Why, mother, if I am reinstated, as I shall be, for my case is very
+strong, and the Hon. Chevy Chase, of New York, who lives near the
+Rialto, the scenes of my labors and sorrows, knows all about it, and is
+a friend of the President—if I am reinstated, of course, as usual, I
+shall immediately be ordered on active service, and shall need to be all
+ready.”
+
+“Nonsense, Gusty! take a change of linen in your valise, and go to
+Washington. I will prepare and pack your wardrobe and send it to you in
+a day or two, or as soon as you want it.”
+
+“Yes! that will be better! thank you, mother!” said Gusty, rising and
+seating himself on his trunk.
+
+“And Rosalia!” sighed Emily, looking in his face, “what can have become
+of her, and how do you feel about her, Gusty?”
+
+Gusty mused. He felt glad that he had never breathed to his mother a
+word of the elopement he had suspected; and now that its object had been
+defeated by Rosalia’s flight, he could not bring himself to mention it.
+He felt very little fear of Rosalia’s fate _now_. Her unexpected
+deliverance from evil at the last moment greatly strengthened his faith
+in her guardian angel, and Gusty had a great deal of faith, as we have
+seen. That Rosalia was somewhere in safety, and that she would make her
+retreat known as soon as she should hear of the arrival of any of her
+friends at Genoa, he fully believed; and it was his determination, in
+case of his being reinstated, to solicit orders on the Mediterranean
+service, and in any other case, to go out privateering in a search for
+the lost girl.
+
+“Well, Gusty, what are you thinking of?” asked Emily at last.
+
+“I am thinking, mother, that Rosalia is _safe_, and that we shall soon
+_hear_ that she is so!” said he.
+
+The next morning Gusty May set out for Washington City, where he arrived
+within the week. After a few weeks’ petitioning, struggling, and
+delaying—during which Gusty’s hopes fell and anger rose a dozen times at
+least—and during which his friends persevered while his own patience
+gave out—at “long last,” Gusty May was duly authorized to mount the
+anchor and eagle buttons and epaulette, and empowered to write himself
+down, Lieut. Aug. W. May, U. S. N. He ran down to Churchill’s Point to
+hug and kiss his mother upon this good news, and to get his chest, for
+he was ordered to join his old ship, the Rainbow, about to sail from
+Boston for the Mediterranean.
+
+Within the month, Gusty was “Once more upon the waters.”
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XLI.
+                            CONSTANTINOPLE.
+
+           “Once more upon the waters! yet once more,
+           And the waves bound beneath me as a steed
+           That knows its rider.”
+                                               CHILDE HAROLD.
+
+
+The good ship Rainbow weighed anchor on the 1st of January, and bore
+away from Boston harbor before a fair wind. The voyage across the
+Atlantic ocean was rather tempestuous, but in due time the vessel passed
+through the Straits of Gibraltar, and entered the Mediterranean, where
+she continued to cruise for some months, stopping at almost every other
+port but that Gusty May was so anxious to enter, namely, Genoa. Gusty
+had deluded himself with the fond idea that once in the Mediterranean he
+must come upon Rosalia Aguilar _somewhere_. He had written to Captain
+Wilde, and had also swallowed his rage and compelled himself to write to
+Raymond Withers. He had not received a line in reply from either of them
+up to the 1st of April, at which time his ship was ordered to
+Constantinople. On the 15th of April they entered the Archipelago, on
+the 25th passed through the straits of the Dardanelles, and on the 1st
+of May entered the straits of Constantinople, and anchored among a
+thousand other ships of all nations before the City of Mosques and of
+the Sultan.
+
+He inquired and found that Captain Wilde’s ship, the Cornucopia, was
+still there, though expected to sail in a few weeks.
+
+As soon as he could obtain leave of absence, he hastened in search of
+it. The ship lay opposite the lower part of the city. He found it and
+hurried on board. Captain Wilde was on deck, and hastened to receive his
+nephew—they met—clasped each other in a warm, fraternal embrace, and
+_both_ exclaimed, in _one voice_,
+
+“Rosalia! have you heard from Rosalia?” and each looked blankly and
+sadly at the other, as he murmured,
+
+“No—I was in hopes that _you_ could have given me news of her,” and then
+the final answer was simultaneously spoken by both,
+
+“Ah, _no_! all inquiries have been fruitless.”
+
+“How is my sister Emily?” asked Captain Wilde.
+
+“Well in health; but dreadfully anxious about Rosalia, of course, as we
+all are,” replied Gusty, with a deep sigh, “and Sophie—how is Sophie?”
+
+“Not well—indeed very far from it; the sudden news of Rosalia’s flight,
+or abduction, for we do not know which to suppose it, threw her into a
+fit of illness, from which she has never fully recovered?”
+
+“Poor, dear Sophie—where is she now?”
+
+“Here on board the ship with me.”
+
+“HERE! has she lived here all the time?”
+
+“Certainly.”
+
+“And through her long illness?”
+
+“Yes—do you not know that the Turkish Government will not permit a
+foreigner to reside in the city?”
+
+“And is there no exception to this rigid exclusion?”
+
+“None, even in favor of ministers of friendly nations; _they_ are not
+permitted to reside within the walls of the city.”
+
+“And Sophie is here—introduce me to her.”
+
+“Wait, my dear Gusty, a few minutes; I must prepare her for your visit,”
+and so saying, Captain Wilde went down into the cabin, whence he
+returned in a few minutes, saying,
+
+“Come, Gusty! Sophie expects you, and she has a strange story for your
+ear also.”
+
+Gusty followed his uncle down the gangway into a large cabin, fitted up
+in the most luxurious style. The berth or sleeping apartment, at the
+upper end, opposite the entrance or gangway, was concealed by curtains
+of purple velvet, fringed with gold, and festooned with golden cord. The
+side walls were wainscoted with mahogany, and the floor covered with a
+Turkey carpet, of colors so brilliant and life-like, and texture so
+yielding, that you seemed to be stepping upon flowers. In the centre of
+the cabin stood a rose-wood table made fast to its place, and above it
+hung a splendid chandelier of cut glass and gold. Ottomans covered with
+purple velvet and fringed with gold, like the curtains, were ranged
+around the walls upon the carpet.
+
+A beautiful spring-bottomed sofa, whose upper cushions were of down,
+covered also with purple velvet to match the other hangings, was placed
+against the walls on the left hand as you entered, and facing it upon
+the opposite side, hung a large cheval mirror. About upon the walls hung
+several rare oil paintings in rich frames, and the rose-wood table was
+littered with books.
+
+“This is Sophie’s own particular retreat,” said Captain Wilde, as he
+introduced Gusty, and pointed him to a seat on the sofa. In a few
+seconds the purple velvet curtains opened, and Sophie entered. The very
+same Sophie, whom time seemed to forget to mar. The same little round
+looking figure, in its sober dress of brown satin, the same little
+sedate head with its simply braided, glossy brown hair, the same soft,
+pale face with its large, tender brown eyes, the same pensive
+countenance, and gentle manners, the same low sweet voice, the same
+every way except—yes! there _is_ a tone of deep, deep sorrow in her
+whole bearing as she approaches to greet Gusty, who rises and meets her
+more than half way. She offers her cheek to Gusty, who kisses it as he
+embraces her, and they look in each other’s face with a heart-broken
+expression of countenance, and sit down without a word spoken on either
+side! At last, trying to utter the name of Rosalia, Sophie chokes and
+bursts into tears, and weeps convulsively.
+
+“Ah! well—yes—this is it!” exclaimed Captain Wilde, sitting down and
+taking her in his arms, forgetting or disregarding the presence of
+Gusty, and muttering _sotto voce_ as he soothed her, “I sometimes wish
+we could hear that this poor girl was dead, for then Sophie would know
+that she was in Heaven, and cease to break her heart about it.”
+
+Sophie wept abundantly, and, as a fit of free weeping always acts, it
+subsided and left her heart clear, her mind refreshed, and her nerves
+calm—_temporarily_—just as an April shower leaves, _for the time_, the
+sky bright, and the earth refreshed. Then as she recovered, she
+recounted all the little she knew from Raymond Withers of Rosalia’s
+flight, and ended by reiterating that no news had been heard of her; nor
+the slightest clue had been found to her fate or her retreat.
+
+Gusty saw that neither Captain Wilde nor Sophie had the slightest
+suspicion of the elopement, well veiled as it had been; and he, on his
+part, determined not to enlighten them. On his inquiring when they had
+last heard from Raymond, he was informed that they had received but one
+letter from him, namely, the letter announcing Rosalia’s flight, but
+that they had lately heard, by a vessel direct from Genoa, that the
+American Consul was lying extremely ill of a brain fever, and that his
+life was despaired of.
+
+“Of course that is the reason he has not written to us,” said Sophie.
+
+“And I suppose that is why he has not replied to my letter, either,”
+observed Gusty.
+
+Then Sophie asked her thousand and one questions about Emily and her
+family, about Heath Hall and its inmates, and about Hagar and her
+children. To all these questions Gusty gave satisfactory replies. When
+she inquired about Hagar he merely told her that she was in high health
+and beauty, and the mother of a fine boy, thus revealing only what was
+agreeable in the truth, without afflicting Sophie by saying one word of
+the sorrow of which it was evident that she had not the slightest idea.
+If this partial concealment was not in_genu_ous, it was at least
+in_geni_ous; but I am not defending Gusty.
+
+“I have something strange to tell you about our poor dear Rosalia, but I
+am not able to tell you to-day, Gusty,” said Sophie.
+
+“Is it about anything that has occurred since you parted with her?”
+
+“Yes—and—no,” said Sophie,” but I am not strong enough for the task now.
+Come to-morrow, Gusty, and I will tell you—I must lie down now.”
+
+And indeed she looked so languid, so much as if about to faint, that
+Gusty, mentally reproaching himself for having stayed so long, arose to
+take leave.
+
+“Come and dine with us to-morrow at five, if you can leave the ship,”
+said Captain Wilde.
+
+“Yes, do Gusty,” added Sophie.
+
+“I will, certainly, with great pleasure, if I can get off,” replied
+Gusty; and raising Sophie’s pale and languid hand to his lips he turned
+and left the cabin, accompanied by Captain Wilde.
+
+“Come in the morning for the story, however, Gusty, for Sophie is too
+feeble to be worried later in the day.”
+
+The next morning as soon as he was off duty, Gusty hastened on board the
+Cornucopia. Captain Wilde met him as before, and telling him that Sophie
+was ready to receive him, conducted him into the cabin. Sophie reclined
+upon the sofa, but arose, and greeting Gusty, pointed him to the seat by
+her side. He took it, and after making several kind inquiries about her
+health, he awaited the revelation she had to make him—his interest and
+his curiosity whetted up to the keenest edge. At length she said—
+
+“I suppose, Gusty, you are waiting for this story?”
+
+“Yes, dear Sophie, with as much _im_patience as I dare to feel, seeing
+you so feeble.”
+
+“I am much stronger in the morning—well—dear knows, I hardly know where
+to commence, for I am no narrator. I suppose, Gusty, you always thought
+that Rosalia—poor Rose!—was my niece, did you not?”
+
+“Of course—_yes_!
+
+“My sister, Rosalia Churchill’s child?”
+
+“Certainly!”
+
+“Well, she is not either the one or the other!”
+
+“How?”
+
+“She is no kin to me.”
+
+“SOPHIE!”
+
+“It is true.”
+
+“You astound me!”
+
+“So was I astounded when the fact was revealed to me.”
+
+“Are you sure of this?”
+
+“Certain of it.”
+
+“Beyond a doubt?”
+
+“‘There is not a peg to hang a doubt upon.’”
+
+“Who is she then, in the name of Heaven?”
+
+“The daughter of my late husband, Mr. Withers, by his first wife—Fanny
+Raymond, and the sister of Raymond Withers!”
+
+Gusty turned all colors, and lost his voice for a time; at last seeing
+that Sophie remained silent, he exclaimed—
+
+“Great God! this cannot be true!”
+
+“I _know_ it to be true. I have incontestable proof that it is true.”
+
+“And does _he_—Raymond Withers, know this?”
+
+“Yes, I presume so.”
+
+“And how long has he known it?” asked Gusty, with a strange joy breaking
+over his face.
+
+“Only since her flight.”
+
+Gusty’s countenance fell suddenly.
+
+“Does _she_ know or suspect it?”
+
+“I presume not—poor child!”
+
+“How long have _you_ known it?”
+
+“About eight months.”
+
+“And how did you discover it?—who told you?—and why has the fact been
+kept concealed so long?”
+
+“Stay, Gusty, it was to tell you the whole story that I requested your
+visit this morning. I am about to do so.”
+
+“I am all attention—begin.”
+
+“In the first place, I do not wish to enter further upon the details of
+the early life of Mr. Withers than is absolutely necessary to make this
+story clear.”
+
+“Of course not,” winced Gusty, with a countenance expressive of having
+bitten an unripe persimmon.
+
+“You have sometimes heard the name of Fanny Raymond?”
+
+“Yes—though long
+
+                   “‘Banished from each lip and ear,
+                   Like words of wantonness or fear;’
+
+—I _have_ heard it—and I remember her sad fate.”
+
+“You will understand, then, why it is unpleasant to me to allude to her
+dark story.”
+
+“Yes, of course.”
+
+“Further than is positively unavoidable?”
+
+“I know! I know!”
+
+“Then these are the facts lately revealed to me by my deceased
+brother-in-law’s attorney—and this was the manner of it. We had been out
+here something like four or five months, when I received a packet of
+letters and papers from Mr. Linton, my late brother-in-law’s attorney,
+and my colleague in the guardianship of Rosalia and her little property.
+With this packet of letters came _one_ letter, sealed and superscribed
+in a hand-writing, the sight of which made my heart leap to my
+throat—the hand-writing, in fine, of my only sister—my dead sister,
+Rosalia. In truth, it seemed like a missive from the grave. It was
+directed ‘To Sophie Withers—care of T. Linton, attorney at law—to be
+delivered according to its address, on the 1st June, 182-.’ _That was
+Rosalia’s eighteenth birthday._”
+
+Sophie paused. Gusty waited in breathless impatience. She seemed
+strongly disinclined to recommence the recital that she had abandoned at
+the very outset.
+
+“Well?” at last ventured Gusty—“Well, Sophie?”
+
+“Alas! why have I to tell this story—I do so revolt from it, Gusty! I
+walk around and around it, fearing to approach it!”
+
+“Don’t then, Sophie,” said Gusty, with an effort at magnanimity, but
+looking very anxious.
+
+“Yes, I shall have to tell it—and may as well brace myself to the task
+now as at any other time. Listen then, Gusty, and I will endeavor to
+condense the story that was revealed to me through some half-a-dozen
+long letters, and proved by some half a score of tedious documents. You
+remember my sister Rosalia, Gusty?”
+
+“Like one of the glorious visions of my morning of life—_yes_.”
+
+“Yes, she _was_ gloriously beautiful—of your Rosalia’s complexion and
+style of beauty, but with a sparkling vivacity, flashing like sunlight
+through every look, and tone, and gesture—Rosalia Churchill’s first
+effect upon a stranger was electrical. Well! soon after we were left
+alone by the death of our brother, Mr. Aguilar, a young merchant of
+Baltimore, came down to make or finish a large contract for tobacco,
+from Mr. Gardiner Green—he saw Rosalia at church on Sunday; on Monday
+got himself presented to her by Mr. Green, who brought him to the Hall.
+He came every day to see us. At the end of a week he returned to
+Baltimore, but came back in a few days. At last he proposed for Rosalia,
+married her, and carried her off to his city home. Rosalia was very
+young and very thoughtless, and perhaps her husband was a little
+selfish, and did not wish to be troubled by the poor country relations
+of his beautiful but penniless young wife—at least that is the only way
+in which I can account for the estrangement between us that followed her
+marriage. I wrote to my sister frequently, and at first her replies were
+copious, her letters filled with vivacious descriptions of gay city
+life—of dress, visiting and receiving company—of balls, plays, and
+concerts, &c., &c., &c. This continued a few months, and then our
+correspondence began to die out. Her letters were short and few, and
+filled with apologies. I never remonstrated against this, because, you
+know, that is not my disposition. At last—and this was near the close of
+the second year—a longer interval of silence than usual followed my
+letter to her. I felt a _diffidence_ in troubling her with two letters
+at a time, for I felt that she was a fine, fashionable lady, and just
+then I was almost a pauper.”
+
+“I guess it was your quiet _pride_, Sophie.”
+
+“I am no moral philosopher, and I do not know whether it was pride or
+humility that prevented me for some time from writing a second letter to
+her; but at last I grew so restless about her—I felt so interested in
+her domestic affairs—she had been married more than a year, and I was
+anxious to know whether she had a baby. Sometimes I thought she _had_,
+and that the care of it prevented her writing to me, so I wrote and
+asked her in so many words. Her reply came, after a long time. She told
+me she had a little snowy-skinned, golden-haired, sapphire-eyed girl,
+who was said to be the picture of herself. Of course I thought,
+naturally enough, that the child was her own. I could think nothing
+else. She had not _said_ so, but could I infer anything else, Gusty?”
+
+“Certainly not.”
+
+“You see she entered into no details except very minute ones about the
+baby’s beauty, dresses, habits, and christening. This revived our
+correspondence for a little while—only for a little while—it died out,
+and finally ceased altogether. It was a year from this that I was
+married to Mr. Withers; and it was in the second year of my marriage
+that I was so unfortunate as to lose my only sister and her husband by
+the then prevailing epidemic. I was appointed by will, guardian, in
+conjunction with Mr. Linton, of the infant orphan, Rosalia, and was
+summoned to Baltimore, to receive her into my care. I went, and brought
+home the baby, Rosalia, without a single suspicion of who she really
+was. I was attracted to the child; I loved her, but not for anything of
+my sister that I saw in her, for there was really nothing. Superficial
+observers might fancy a likeness, because they both had the same snowy
+skin, tinged with a faint rose-color on the cheeks; the same glittering
+gold hair, and the same azure eyes; but to my searching eyes there was
+not a single look of my sister about her. There was a startling likeness
+to another—an unfortunate, whose strange sad fate was as
+incomprehensible to me as this child’s alarming resemblance of her.
+Still—so far was I from suspicion—so little given, as you know, Gusty,
+to marvellousness or romancery, that I considered this extraordinary
+likeness as mere fancy in me, until Mr. Withers also remarked it, in
+great agitation, and even _then_, I set it down as accidental. Mr.
+Withers grew very fond of her, and she of him. She was the only one who
+could subdue the tiger in his heart during his fits of phrensy. You know
+we brought her up as our niece, and loved her so much that had we heard
+that she was the child of the bitterest enemy in the world, we could not
+have loved her less. The panic caused by the extraordinary likeness
+passed away with years, because, in fact, as she grew up this
+resemblance declined, and her air and manner became assimilated to mine,
+so much so that people saw, even through the marked difference of
+complexion—what they called ‘a family likeness’ between two of no kin.
+Children _do_ thus grow to resemble those who bring them up—in case they
+love them. I believed her to be my niece, and only regretted that she
+had not been my daughter. You may judge, then, with what surprise I
+received this packet of papers from my coadjutor, Mr. Linton,
+accompanied by his own letter—shall I read it to you, or tell you of its
+contents?”
+
+“Is it long?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Well, tell me.”
+
+“Well then, listen; it appears that a few days before the death of Mr.
+Aguilar, he sent for his lawyer, T. Linton, and requested him to draw up
+a will, in which he left the remnant of his wrecked property to his wife
+Rosalia. Within a fortnight after the funeral of her husband, my sister
+was struck down by the epidemic to which he had fallen a victim. On the
+day previous to her decease she requested an interview with Mr. Linton.
+He obeyed her summons, and at her desire, drew up a second will, by
+which she bequeathed to _her daughter, Rosalia Aguilar_, all the
+property so lately devised to herself. She signed this will, and
+returning it to him, requested him to keep it _for exhibition to her
+relatives_, and to draw her up a copy, substituting the name of _Rosalia
+Aguilar Withers_, and to keep this in reserve, for, said she,
+
+“‘The _first_ will, will not give her any right to the bequest, because
+she is not my daughter.’
+
+“‘Then why say so in the first will?’ inquired the lawyer.
+
+“‘Because I do not wish to send the orphan, _orphaned_ into the world.
+As my own child, my relatives will naturally receive Rosalia with
+affection—the _prestige_ of family will be about her. As my adopted
+daughter, they may possibly look upon her with aversion as an
+interloper, who has deprived them of an inheritance. I do not say that
+it _will_ be so, but I _do_ say that this is so natural, so human a
+possibility, that I do not wish to risk it. I wish to cover my baby, my
+child; she _is_ my child in affection, if not in love—I wish, I say, to
+shelter her with _love_ during the years of her infancy and childhood,
+and during these years you must only produce the _first_ will, unless
+the discovery of her real parentage makes it necessary to produce the
+second, which will secure to her the property under _all_ circumstances.
+I have prepared a letter, in which I have given the history of my
+adoption of Rosalia Withers, and which I shall confide to you, to be
+delivered to my sister on Rosalia’s eighteenth birth day, or before, if
+unexpected circumstances should make it proper to do so.’ Well, she
+intrusted him with both wills, the real and ostensible one, and with the
+letter explanatory of the whole matter. Gusty, I am exhausted; shall I
+give you the letter to read, while I take a little repose?”
+
+Gusty looked at Sophie—she was pale and trembling with nervous
+exhaustion.
+
+“Oh! I am a brute! a brute! not to have noticed your fatigue; but I was
+so interested in Rosalia—give me the letter, Sophie, and lie down.”
+
+“It will tell you all that you wish to know, Gusty,” said she, rising,
+and handing him the letter.
+
+He received it, and left the cabin, saying to himself, “Sophie is not so
+strong to endure as she was—her heart is breaking under reiterated
+blows.” Passing Captain Wilde, and promising to be back to dinner, Gusty
+hastened to his own ship, and retired to read his letter, which, with
+its revelations, reader, shall be reserved for the next chapter.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XLII.
+                              THE LETTER.
+
+               “Oh, what a tangled web we weave
+               When first we practise to deceive.”
+                                                   SCOTT.
+
+
+Gusty found himself in his own “caboose,” and opened the letter. Its
+contents were as follows:
+
+From Rosalia Aguilar to Sophie Withers.
+
+
+  “MY DEAR AND ONLY SISTER:—Long before your eye follows these lines,
+  the hand that now traces them will have moulded into dust. I write now
+  propped up in bed, and my pen drops from my hand, and my hand falls
+  from the paper every instant—ah! how difficult to write with the life
+  in my bosom palpitating, sinking, fluttering into death! yet I must
+  write. There is a secret that I must leave revealed for you, although
+  for awhile it will yet be kept from you. Hear my confession. There is
+  a little child whom never having seen, you yet love from my
+  description, and from her supposed relationship to you. And you must,
+  for years to come, still believe in her kindred claim. That little
+  girl is no child of mine—no relative of yours. Listen! this is her
+  history.
+
+  “From the first year of my married life, I wished above all things for
+  a child—but when, in the passage of time, I knew that Heaven had
+  written me childless, I wished to _adopt_ an infant—one without
+  parents, friends, or relatives—an orphan from its very birth, whom I
+  would make all my own—whom I could pass, not only upon the world, but
+  upon my relatives, as my own; for I was morbidly sensitive upon the
+  subject of my childlessness, and felt my misfortune to be a
+  mortification of which I wish to keep even you ignorant. (Now, if I
+  continue to keep even you in ignorance, it is from a less selfish
+  motive, namely, the welfare of my adopted daughter.)
+
+  “Well, Sophie! such a child as I wished to find was not so easily to
+  be discovered; but the more difficult the attainment, the more
+  desirable was the object. I brooded over the plan continually. I used
+  to drive in my carriage to alms-houses, orphan asylums, &c., and
+  became a sort of amateur baby-fancier; only I never saw a baby that
+  struck my fancy. I never betrayed even to the matrons of these
+  institutions my secret purpose in visiting them so frequently. I
+  thought it was quite time enough to make known my wishes when their
+  object, namely an eligible child for adoption, should be found. I was
+  in the habit of visiting these asylums at least once a fortnight, and
+  I got the name of being very charitable, for I had to give alms to
+  account for my visits. I grew quite into the confidence of the matrons
+  and directors, although, living as I did, quite at the opposite end of
+  the city, they knew nothing of me beyond my ‘charities,’ as they
+  called them. One day, however, the matron of the almshouse met me at
+  the door, and conducting me into the parlor, told me that she had a
+  singular circumstance to reveal, and then gave me the following
+  particulars. ‘That late on the preceding night, a woman had been seen
+  wandering bare-footed, and with wild eyes, streaming hair, tattered
+  dress, and frantic manners, through the streets of the city. When
+  accosted by passengers she would answer wildly, or turn and flee. At
+  last, that morning, she was brought before a magistrate, who, seeing
+  her lunacy, had her sent to this asylum.’
+
+  “‘She was brought here about eleven o’clock,’ continued the matron;
+  ‘she is a very remarkable looking young person, and I should think
+  within a very few days of her confinement. Will you see her?’ I
+  assented, and followed the matron to the ward in which the stranger
+  was placed. We entered a small room apart, and there I saw such a
+  wreck of a human being! an extremely emaciated figure sitting doubled
+  up on the foot of the low bed—from her thin limbs hung tattered
+  raiment, bearing the marks and stains of much travel and exposure. Her
+  elbows rested on her knees, and her talon-like hands supported her
+  wan, white face, which formed a death-like contrast to the brilliant
+  hair of mingled gold and silver threads that streamed down each side.
+  Her eyes were strained out straight before her, but fell as she saw
+  us. She was now enjoying—no, not enjoying, suffering a lucid interval.
+  I saw it in the set despair—the too rational despair of those terrible
+  eyes. I felt strongly and most painfully interested in her—I fully
+  believed her to be one of the too numerous victims of trust and
+  perfidy. I wished to talk to her—to learn, if possible, something of
+  her history—to do, if possible, something to alleviate her sufferings.
+  I could not, somehow, bring myself to speak to her confidentially in
+  the presence of the matron. I fancied that if I were left alone with
+  the poor stranger, I might win some information from her, and learn if
+  I could in any manner ameliorate her condition. I requested the matron
+  aside, to withdraw for a few minutes, to give me this opportunity. She
+  did so, and I went after her, closed the door behind her and returned,
+  drew the only chair in the room to the side of the bed, and sat down
+  in it very near her. She was sitting in the same attitude—her side
+  face was towards me—she did not notice me.
+
+  “‘I am very sorry to see you looking so unhappy,’ said I, softly as I
+  could speak, and watching her face steadily.
+
+  “She did not reply, but I saw the blue lips spring quivering apart,
+  and the white teeth glisten between them.
+
+  “‘Are you married?’ inquired I, after a long, painful pause.
+
+  “I immediately regretted my indiscreet question when I saw her turn
+  her gaze haughtily upon me, while something like scorn kindled on her
+  cheeks, writhed on her lips, flashed from her eyes, as she answered,
+  in a low and measured tone,
+
+  “‘Do you not _perceive_ that I am married?’
+
+  “I felt humbled—like a repulsed intruder—still I did wish so much to
+  benefit her that I ventured again.
+
+  “‘Can I do anything for you?’
+
+  “‘Yes!’
+
+  “‘Tell me what?’
+
+  “‘You can leave the room!’
+
+  “‘I will do so,’ said I, ‘certainly, as I do not wish, upon any
+  account to add to your discomfort,’ and rising, I left the chamber.
+
+  “The matron met me in the gallery, and in commenting upon my account
+  of my interview, she informed me that no one had been able to gain the
+  slightest intelligence of her past life, her friends, or her
+  condition, from her.
+
+  “I felt distressingly concerned for this woman. I drove over every day
+  to see her. She became accustomed to my visits—somewhat reconciled to
+  me—though her moods were variable; sometimes bitter and sullen, as I
+  had found her in my first interview; sometimes so wild and frantic as
+  to make restraint necessary; sometimes she was calm and rational. For
+  several days I made no further effort to elicit from her the story of
+  her sins, wrongs, or misfortunes. It was evident from every lineament
+  of her classic face and form, beautiful even in their extreme
+  emaciation, and from every tone and gesture in her voice and
+  manner—free from coarseness even in her sullenest or fiercest
+  mood—that she was a woman of high breeding—that she had fallen from a
+  lofty place.
+
+  “But it was not until my pity for the poor creature was changing into
+  love, and she saw it, that I could get her to take anything from me,
+  or accept any, even the most delicate, personal service.
+
+  “‘No,’ she would say, with a sardonic smile, ‘I will accept nothing; I
+  have a right to my place in this almshouse, because I have helped to
+  build and support these institutions.’
+
+  “Pity is allied to love on the one hand, and to contempt on the other;
+  and in proportion as it approaches love, it recedes from contempt.
+  When she saw that the arrogant and offensive element in my pity was
+  gone, she began to grow a little more grateful for the care I was
+  bestowing upon her. Once she said to me, in one of her few lucid
+  intervals—
+
+  “‘For months I have been a wanderer on the face of the earth; for
+  months I have never slept under a roof, or eaten anything cooked—the
+  forest has been my home—its bed of grass or under-growth my couch, its
+  foliage my curtains, the overhanging sky has been my roof, and its
+  millions of stars my lights: nuts and wild berries my food, water my
+  drink, and the side of some brook my dining-room. I had fled from the
+  cold pity and the colder alms of society to wild nature, the rough but
+  honest mother. And it was the coming on of winter, severe winter, and
+  the approach of the period of my accouchement, that drove me again
+  into the haunts of civilization for assistance.’
+
+  “The ‘mind and heart diseased’ might be detected in her most lucid
+  conversation. She was not one to reason with—I could only love her
+  into calmness and sanity. I brought over some of my own clothing, and
+  after soothing, coaxing, and caressing, administered with the most
+  delicate tact of which I was capable (for it was dangerous to let her
+  think that I considered her a child, or a fool who was to be
+  wheedled), I prevailed on her to take a bath, have her hair combed,
+  and put on comfortable clothing. It was a light blue, soft, warm,
+  French merino that I had brought her, and she looked so beautiful
+  after I had dressed her, that then I first conceived the idea of
+  bringing her home to my house. It was almost a selfish feeling in
+  me—she would occupy and interest me—nay, she had done so to the extent
+  of exorcising my familiar demon, ennui. Mr. Aguilar had sailed for
+  Liverpool, on mercantile business, a few weeks previous—it was too
+  late to consult him—I thought I would take this poor forlornity home,
+  and ask his permission when he returned. Fearful of alarming her
+  morbid pride, and her hatred of dependence, I did not name my project
+  to her then, but returned home full of it. I went busily to work and
+  prepared a chamber next to my own—I was so happy and interested in
+  fitting it up—I said to myself, as I superintended the arrangement of
+  the furniture, ‘Her emaciated and wearied limbs will repose so nicely
+  on this white, clean, downy bed; she will sit so nicely in this deep,
+  soft chair,’ and my own heart filled with a sort of delicious emotion,
+  that flowed through every vein, breathing through every pore, dilating
+  as a sponge filling with water, or a child growing as it sleeps. I
+  became deeply interested in preparing baby-linen, just as if it were
+  for myself. ‘Come,’ said I to myself, ‘I will be Pharaoh’s daughter,
+  and she shall be the mother of Moses.’ In the midst of these
+  occupations an evil thought came to me, and said, ‘You are doing all
+  this for—_whom?_—a fallen and guilty woman—a degraded outcast!’ And I
+  stopped in the middle of the floor aghast at the sudden recollection,
+  and terrified at the question of what Mr. Aguilar might say to this
+  contemplated act when he should hear of it. And as I stood, these
+  lines, read in my school days, came into my head—
+
+               “‘Vice is a monster of such hideous mien,
+               That to be hated needs but to be seen;
+               But seen too oft, familiar with its face—
+               We first endure, then _pity_, then embrace.’
+
+  “Yes, I had got to the pitying stage! I was in danger! in the whirl of
+  the maelstrom! I turned giddy, and dropped into the very easy chair I
+  was preparing for her. You used to say, Sophie, that I never prayed to
+  God until I got into trouble—which was as true then as it is now. I
+  was now in trouble—I did not wish to be disappointed of my
+  benevolence—my amusement, then, if you will call it so; and I did not
+  wish to see that poor creature suffer in the bleak chamber of the
+  wretchedly _un_provided almshouse. I was broken upon a wheel of
+  conflicting opinions and emotions. And I prayed to God, that if a
+  baleful, moral miasma was evolved from the presence of this poor
+  fellow-creature, His grace might be the purifying antidote to save me,
+  and I got up from this prayer loathing myself for a self-righteous
+  pharisee, standing afar off from the poor publican, and I saw how far
+  above the authority of the poets, philosophers and moralists, whom I
+  consulted and worshipped, was the perfect law of love—the law of
+  Christ that I had forgotten. Later in the day when this fervor had
+  subsided, as all fervor must, and when I looked at the _rationale_ of
+  the affair, it was suggested to me that if the poor creature were
+  guilty, she appeared impenitent—but I replied, ‘She is outcast,
+  beggared, and crazed—that is all I know—if she is guilty, it is known
+  to God; if she is also impenitent, she is mad; and has most likely
+  been driven so by cruelty and despair, and I will try to love her back
+  to sanity and to penitence. And in this case I have no right to judge
+  her—to pronounce her guilty. Still, Sophie, I must say, that between
+  old prejudices and new sympathy, between ill-regulated feelings and
+  unsettled opinions, I was very much in doubt as to the propriety of
+  what I was about to do in my husband’s absence. Inclination, as is but
+  too usually the case with me, weighed down the scale, and I went to
+  bring my protegé. I had some difficulty with her. I found her in a
+  very lucid state of mind. I congratulated her upon her calmness, and
+  she smiled a sad, strange smile, and said,
+
+  “‘Ah! you think me sane, rational _now_! But when I rave, rant and
+  scream! when I tear my hair and clothes! throw myself with violence on
+  the ground! call on God to strike me dead! and blaspheme because He
+  does not do it! _then_ you call me mad! phrensied! Alas! _then only_
+  am I sane, _then only_ conscious of my situation, of all I _have_
+  been, _am_, and _shall_ be; of my past, present, and future, in their
+  horrid reality; and my raving is but too reasonable! No, madam!’ she
+  said, with sorrowful bitterness, ‘it is _now_, _now_ that I am dull,
+  stupid, collapsed, _calm_ as you call it, that I am _really_ insane,
+  for I am now insensible to my condition in all its woe.’
+
+  “I asked for no explanation. I had given up that habit long ago. But
+  after a while I proposed my plan to her. She hesitated even when I
+  urged her with tears of sympathy.
+
+  “‘If I become an inmate of your house, it is right that you should
+  know my whole story, yet that I will never divulge.’
+
+  “‘No! no!’ said I, impatiently, alarmed, ‘I wish to hear nothing, will
+  hear nothing—I have nothing to do with your past—your future only
+  concerns me,’ for I was now beginning to fear her story as a
+  revelation of horrors that I should not have the courage to face.
+
+  “In short, Sophie, I took her home with me that very evening to the
+  chamber where I had had a fire already made for her reception, and I
+  spent the evening there with her.
+
+  “I kept her there two months. She grew calmer every day under my
+  nursing. At the end of two months her child was born, and from that
+  time it seemed to me that she sank every day. It is true that she
+  recovered from her accouchement, and was able to leave her room, but I
+  could see that a hectic fever had taken a deep hold of her system. I
+  was expecting Mr. Aguilar home every day literally with fear and
+  trembling. I devised a thousand excuses to make for what I had done,
+  and in the end hoped that the joy of meeting me again would lead him
+  to pardon the indiscretion of which I felt that he would accuse me.
+  Fanny Raymond (that was the name of my protegé), sometimes with her
+  quick, unusually quick perceptions, noticed my anxiety, and questioned
+  me about it. But I would smile and tell her that my sources of
+  uneasiness were like hers, incommunicable. In the midst of this, Mr.
+  Aguilar arrived. It was night when he came home. He did not see Fanny
+  that night. Early the next morning before we arose, I told him all
+  about it. He was deeply displeased; nothing but the circumstance of
+  our having just met, after an absence, could have saved me from a very
+  severe rebuke. He said that she must leave the house immediately. I
+  pleaded with him that it was the depth of winter—that she was dying of
+  consumption, or a broken heart, for they are often synonyms. He was
+  inexorable. I arose and dressed myself and wept very much, and then I
+  went to Fanny’s room and took up her child in its soft, white night
+  dress, and returning to my own chamber, went up to the bed and laid
+  the babe upon his bosom.
+
+  “‘What am I to do with the brat? Do you expect me to nurse it?’ said
+  he, as he rose up on his elbow.
+
+  “I was not afraid of his throwing it out of the window. He was
+  passionately fond of children. It was his weakness. He could not pass
+  a babe in its nurse’s arms in the street. That was one reason why I
+  was so anxious for children.
+
+  “‘It is a beautiful baby,’ said he, smoothing out its hair, that
+  looked like bright, pale yellow floss silk. ‘But here, take it! Why do
+  you bother _me_ with it?’
+
+  “The struggle in his mind was so evident.
+
+  “‘Because,’ said I, ‘its mother is dying—it has no relatives, I
+  suspect, and no one will claim it—you will adopt it I think—and I
+  hope, I pray, I do implore that you will let its poor heart-broken
+  mother pass the few days of life that remain to her under this roof
+  with her baby.’
+
+  “Useless all my prayers and tears. He was sternly determined to send
+  her off with the child back to the almshouse, he said. He admitted
+  that were the mother out of the question he would cheerfully keep the
+  child. At last I raised the infant and carried it into the next room.
+  Fanny was standing before the dressing-glass writing on the table. She
+  looked up as I came in. I never shall forget the expression of her
+  face in this world or the next, it was whiter than chalk, sterner than
+  marble. She came to me, took the child from my arms and laid it on the
+  bed without a word said, then turning to me she embraced me, kissed my
+  hands, pressed me to her bosom, and opening the door pushed me gently
+  out of her own, into my own room. _That was the last time I ever saw
+  Fanny Raymond._ An hour after that Mr. Aguilar and myself sat down to
+  the breakfast-table. I sent up word for Fanny to come down. The
+  servant returned with the news that she was out. I breakfasted without
+  any presentiment of what had occurred. After breakfast Mr. Aguilar
+  went to his counting-room and I ran up stairs to see Fanny and her
+  child. Fanny was not to be seen. The child lay in her cradle. Going up
+  to look at her I saw a folded note pinned to her bosom and directed to
+  me. I took it off, opened and read it, as well as I _could_ read the
+  scrawl. It was as follows:
+
+
+    “‘Mrs. Aguilar, your partitions are thin, or my senses very acute—at
+    all events, lying in my bed this morning, I have heard without
+    intending it, every word of your conversation with your husband. I
+    heard his stern but well meant decision, your generous defence and
+    benevolent pleading, and I blessed and bless you, kind angel, from
+    my breaking heart. “If the mother were dead ‘he’ would take the
+    child,” very well, so be it, the mother will die to secure a home
+    for her child—no weak hesitation or weaker regrets _now_. I go and
+    leave you my child. Take her, Mrs. Aguilar, and give her to your
+    husband as his daughter. Like the Jewish matron whom the Lord had
+    written childless, take the child of your handmaiden and rear it as
+    your own. She was born under your roof, she is yours. I will never
+    return to see or reclaim her. Do you know how much it has cost me to
+    write that? But I will not think! bear on, heart, a few days or
+    hours more. This child—you have been fearing all this time that she
+    was the offspring of guilt and shame, _she is not_. I said that I
+    would not tell you my story, and I will not, because it would
+    involve others. If I were guilty would I be likely to reveal my own
+    shame? If I were to say that I am innocent, should I be likely to
+    obtain credence? But this baby, I must tell the truth of her, she is
+    my husband’s child, for I have a husband, though I do not know how
+    long I may have one, nor is he in a condition to claim or take care
+    of his daughter or even of himself; nor does he suspect the
+    existence of this child, for I have been a fugitive from his house
+    five months before she was born. Therefore keep her yourself, she
+    will be a loss to no one but me who resign her. Give her your name,
+    it will make her more your own. Call her Rosalia Aguilar _Withers_.
+    Why Withers, do you ask? Well, no matter why, perhaps, because she
+    is the bud of a _wither_-ed tree.’”
+
+
+  “That was all! The mother had given up her child and fled, apparently
+  without a single regret, at least you would judge so from the _words_
+  of her letter; but that letter was nearly illegible with wild and
+  scrawling characters, and almost blotted out with tears. A lock of her
+  babe’s hair was cut off from its forehead, and one of its little socks
+  taken away, nothing else was missing. The poor mother had left
+  bareheaded and without outside covering, for her bonnet and shawl were
+  left behind. I was nearly wild with distress, and the poor forsaken
+  babe was wailing dismally for its mother, and I could not comfort it.
+  You know, Sophie, that though I am rather gentle, yet when other
+  people’s cruelties to their fellow creatures have very much distressed
+  and grieved me, that I end in getting very _angry_. Well, I sent a
+  footman to the counting-house for Mr. Aguilar, who answered my summons
+  immediately. It was the first time in all our married life that I had
+  ever had occasion to send for him, and he was alarmed. He came running
+  up stairs. I thrust the note into his hands, and it was _my_ turn to
+  look daggers at him while he read it, and it was _his_ turn to cower
+  before me.
+
+  “‘We must have her pursued, looked up, and taken care of,’ said he, in
+  a trembling voice.
+
+  “‘Oh, yes!’ said I, ‘now that she is drowned—you could find no room in
+  the house for her dying form, perhaps you will be able to find some
+  spot on God’s earth for her grave.’
+
+  “In short, Sophie, I went on in the insolent way in which, when I
+  became excited and reckless of consequences, I sometimes indulged
+  myself towards him, and which he always met with a dignified
+  forbearance that at last quite disarmed me.
+
+  “‘Do you take care of the child, my dear,’ said he, ‘while I take
+  measures to recover the unhappy mother,’ and he left the room.
+
+  “All search proved unavailing—we heard nothing of her for several
+  days, and then we heard that a person answering to her description had
+  been seen walking wildly on the bridge across the river, and the next
+  morning a handkerchief and a shoe were found floating, that when
+  brought to me I recognised as having belonged to her. These created a
+  suspicion that she perished by her own act. Well, Sophie, Mr. Aguilar
+  fell into very low spirits about it, and we redoubled our care of the
+  infant. We procured a wet-nurse, and spared no pains or expense in her
+  nurture and education. She is now four years old; she has been reared
+  in the very lap of love and luxury; but, Sophie, death is near me, at
+  least I fear so, and I must leave my poor dove, my delicate little
+  hothouse rose, to the rough ground and rude blast that make the life
+  of the orphan so hard. And, Sophie, I dare not yet let you know that
+  she is not my child in the flesh, as she is my child by adoption and
+  by an affection that could not be deeper than it is, had I brought her
+  into the world. She was born in my bed, reared in my lap, from the
+  time she was weaned she has slept with me every night. She is the
+  delight of my eyes, the rapture of my heart, she is so beautiful, so
+  angelic! But, Sophie, you will, perhaps, see _none_ of this unless you
+  think she is your _niece_, you will see only a little interloper who
+  has feloniously entered your sister’s home and heart and carried away
+  her affections and your inheritance, and so, Sophie, I will not for
+  some years permit you to know who she is. Not until her loveliness has
+  won a home in your love, of which prejudice and injustice cannot
+  deprive her. Oh, may God forgive me if this is sin.
+
+  “It occurs to me now, Sophie, that as your husband is named Withers,
+  there may be some connexion between the circumstance and the wild
+  fancy name of Withers bestowed by Fanny Raymond on her child. Still it
+  is not likely that there is, at least circumstances forbid me now to
+  investigate it.
+
+  “Sophie, this letter has been the work of a week, it has been written
+  in pain of body and pain of mind. To-morrow I must make my will. I
+  shall at the same time place this letter in the hands of Mr. Linton,
+  to be forwarded to you upon the date of the superscription, which will
+  be the eighteenth anniversary of Rosalia’s birthday, and before that
+  if necessary.
+
+  “Sophie, all is done—and the sands of life run very low. How much I
+  would give to die on your bosom, my only sister! but it may not be.
+  Stranger faces are around me—menial hands wipe the death dew from my
+  brow.
+
+  “Well! to-night perhaps my spirit may be freed and, cleaving the
+  distance between us, hover over your head as you sit chatting merrily
+  by your fireside, thinking of your gay city sister, dancing in some
+  brilliant ball-room. Then I will whisper to your spirit, a dream of
+  our loving infant years, and you shall fall into a sweet pensive
+  trance that shall last until your husband asks,
+
+  “‘What makes you so silent, Sophie?’
+
+  “And you will reply, ‘I was thinking of my sister Rose.’ And I shall
+  disappear in the thick facts around you. Shall it be so? Yes, Sophie!
+  if my freed spirit shall be _indeed_ free, it will seek you before it
+  seeks Heaven.
+
+  “I stopped, because weak tears blinded me—but a little child is
+  sitting on my bed, close to my pillow, and she is wiping with her
+  little dimpled hands, the damp dew from my brow, and her soft lips
+  kiss away the fast falling tears from my eyes—let _these_ tears be the
+  only draughts of sorrow that she drinks! Love my child, Sophie! Oh,
+  God, Sophie! if you want a guardian angel in heaven, love my child!
+
+                                                      “ROSALIA AGUILAR.”
+
+
+Gusty had finished the perusal of this letter. Gusty was no moralist—he
+was given to emotion rather than to reflection. Yet Gusty fell into deep
+thought, and the fruit of his reverie dropped in these words,
+
+“Behold the great tangled thicket of sin and misery springing from one
+small seedling of error. Behold the terrible consequences of one small
+deception—consequences so nearly fatal! FATAL! Oh, Heaven, is there a
+word in earth’s, or in hell’s vocabulary, strong enough to express the
+horror of the fate into which this deception had nearly plunged its
+victim!”
+
+And in deep thought, and with a brow of gloomy gravity, Gusty went over
+to the Cornucopia, to keep his appointment to dine. He did not get an
+opportunity of speaking to Sophie before dinner, for the officers were
+already assembled and waiting. As he entered one door, Sophie came in at
+another, and they sat down to the table. Sophie was the only lady at the
+board, and she was looking very pale and languid. Captain Wilde
+mentioned that this was her first appearance at the table since her long
+illness. Immediately after the dessert was placed upon the table, she
+arose and withdrew to her cabin. Lieutenant May made an apology, and
+followed her.
+
+“You have read the letter, Gusty?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“And what do you think of it? Strange story, is it not?”
+
+“Very.”
+
+“I regret that Rosalia made any concealment from me. I do not know
+myself very well, but I do not think the knowledge of the facts would
+have affected my feelings towards Rosalia. The child that my sister
+loved as her own, would have been very dear to me for my sister’s sake
+as well as for her own, being as lovely as Rosalia.”
+
+“Yes, I am very sure of that, Sophie; and I also exceedingly regret this
+concealment; it might have led to the most horrible end.”
+
+“I do not see that.”
+
+“No, perhaps not; still it strikes me as having been very wrong, and
+wrong doing is _always_ dangerous, and sooner or later it brings its
+retribution.”
+
+“It _was_ wrong. I do not defend it. Still her motive was affection; her
+intention good. She judged me by the known characters of our neighbors,
+who are proverbially clannish—who intermarry, who have strong family
+prejudices, who would be likely to hate an alien by blood, where
+property is concerned, and that alien has been the means of
+disinheriting the family; it was the fear that I would look upon the
+child with dislike, which induced my sister to conceal her origin until
+now.”
+
+“Still, I say people ought not to be so concerned for the results of
+things—people ought to do _right_, and leave the event to God. I am
+learning and proving the good of that every day. Why, Sophie! that’s
+what _I_ did when I got into a scrape for doing good. I said ‘God is
+above all,’ and I grabbed right hold of the promises! with a good
+_will_, and held on to them! and you see the upshot! _Why, I’m
+reinstated._”
+
+“You are _what_, Gusty?”
+
+“Oh, nothing! nothing! only the devil got me into a cursed scrape, and
+the Lord got me out of it, that’s all!”
+
+“It strikes me, Gusty, that you are irreverent in your faith and
+gratitude.”
+
+“Lord! just hear you! do you suppose now the Lord wants to be worshipped
+_all_ the time with tears, and groans, and prayers, with long faces,
+drawling voices, and melancholy psalms? _No!_ I believe He likes
+variety, or we should not see so much of it in His works. Besides, I
+think the cheerful incense of a jolly good fellow’s faith and worship
+must refresh the angels sometimes! See, Sophie! remember how David
+danced before the Ark. Listen! the Jewish historian says, ‘he danced
+with all _his_ might.’ And one can still better imagine the antics he
+cut, when they read that Michal, Saul’s daughter, ‘saw King David
+leaping and dancing before the Lord, and she _despised_ him in her
+heart!’ met him with scorn and biting sarcasm—exclaiming with provoking
+irony, ‘how _glorious_ was the King of Israel to-day!’ &c., &c.; you
+know the rest. Nonsense, Sophie, the Lord don’t want to be always
+worshipped with a solemn physiognomy; at least it is not my ‘_gift_’ so
+to worship Him. Listen, Sophie! this is my theory and practice:—If any
+fellow-creature wrongs or outrages me, I walk right on board of him!
+thrash him like a man! and then forgive him like an angel! If any
+inevitable misfortune falls upon me without human agency, I blame the
+devil liberally! And if any good befalls me, I praise the Lord with all
+my soul! There, that’s _my_ orthodoxy—and if any heretic don’t like it,
+he needn’t subscribe to it. Dear me, Sophie, when I _am_ thankful, I am
+thankful sure enough; my bosom is a jolly big ball-room, and my heart
+dances a tarantula all over it.”
+
+“I do not know how you can be so thoughtlessly gay while the fate of
+Rosalia remains shrouded in mystery!”
+
+“God love your gentle sober bosom, Sophie; I have been in the deliriums,
+in the agonies, in the blues, the horrors, and the dumps, about Rosalia,
+for six months past, until—I got your—never mind—well, anyway, now it is
+_all changed_, and I feel such a faith, such a profound and joyful
+conviction of her safety, that I cannot be anxious from _doubt_, but
+only from _impatience_! Cheer up, Sophie! I wish I could infuse some of
+my own confidence into you! Go or send to Genoa. I wish _I_ could get
+leave of absence! Rosalia will turn up soon! She is not dead: if she
+_had_ been—much inquiry as has been made for her, large rewards as have
+been offered for information about her, it would have been known. She
+has found friends somewhere! and they help to conceal her, that is all!
+God is above all!”
+
+“_Conceal_ her! of what are you dreaming. Gusty?”
+
+“There it is again! I shall let the cat out of the bag, if I stay here
+another minute. Good-bye, Sophie.”
+
+“But what _did_ you mean?”
+
+“Dear Sophie, nothing! my hour is up! I _must_ go—good-bye!”
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XLIII.
+                         ROSALIA’S WANDERINGS.
+
+            “There’s a divinity that shapes our ends,
+            Rough hew them as we will.”
+                                                SHAKSPEARE.
+
+
+I do not know how _you_ feel, but I am fatigued with chasing up and down
+the world, from Maryland to the Mediterranean, and from the Balize to
+the Bosphorus, my eccentric set of people, who have exploded in their
+passion and blown themselves to the four winds of Heaven! I feel like an
+admiral at sea with a squadron, in which _each_ ship is in a mutiny, and
+_all_ in a storm—or like a shepherdess with a very short crook, a very
+wild watch-dog, and a very unruly flock.
+
+And now I must leave the ninety-and-nine in the wilderness, and go after
+the one that is lost—our pet-lamb, Rosalia—who, if she has escaped the
+wolf, has withal wandered too far from the fold in going out of sight.
+
+Upon the evening of her arrival at Genoa, Rosalia had been shown into
+her chamber, had been assisted off with her travelling dress by the
+chambermaid, had been supplied with some warm water for bathing; and
+then, at her own request, had been left alone. Finding herself in
+solitude, she had taken a pencil and paper, and traced the lines of her
+farewell letter to Raymond Withers. Then like one in a dream, driven by
+one force, the instinct of flight from Raymond, led by one attraction,
+the wish for distance and sleep, she began her hasty preparations for
+escape. Selecting from her wardrobe a dress that Raymond had never seen
+her wear, and therefore would be unable to describe, one also that would
+attract the least possible attention, and in which she would be able to
+glide, spirit-like and unobserved, through the gloaming—namely, a black
+velvet pelisse, black beaver bonnet, and black lace veil—she arrayed
+herself, and taking her guitar, with a vague idea of its being
+serviceable to her, she opened her door and looked cautiously out. It
+was the hour of dinner throughout the house, and the servants were all
+away from this division of the establishment. She hurried cautiously
+down the stairs, watching her opportunity, and eluding observation now
+by passing vacant galleries, now by gliding through a crowd of busy and
+hurrying waiters, she escaped from the house and stepped out into the
+street—into a broad, grand, spacious street, built up on either side
+with princely palaces, so magnificent that any one of them might have
+been considered the chief ornament of any other city. Terrified, almost
+crushed by the stupendous magnificence around her, the timid girl
+hurried through the stately streets of the gorgeous city, “Genoa the
+Proud,” as it has been styled for its grandeur. Hurrying along under the
+shadows of the palaces, gliding through the crowds of lazzaroni, the
+poor, frightened girl approached the north-western rampart. She met many
+country people coming through the gates, with tall baskets of fruit upon
+their heads, and in the crowd that was passing _into_ the city, she
+passed _out_ unchallenged and unnoticed. She found herself upon the high
+road leading through the plains, through the forest, and lastly through
+a defile of the Appenines to the city of Parma. She went on.
+
+The sun had set before she had emerged from the city, and now as she
+went up the pleasant road, bordered by beautiful herbage and fragrant
+flowers, by citron and orange groves, the soft and purple evening of
+Italy, with its clear sky and brilliant stars, was around her. The
+delicious coolness of the atmosphere stole all the heat from her veins
+as she wandered on. There seemed something in the air, or the ground,
+that strengthened her, for as she walked, her faintness and languor left
+her, and peace fell into her heart and all around her. Oh, yes! it must
+have been the pure air,—the fresh earth,—the hum of insects,—the hushed
+flutterings of birds’ wings, as they settled on their nests,—the distant
+murmur of the bay, and the nearer whisper of the breeze—in other words,
+the influence of nature, the mercy of God that was quieting her excited
+nerves, cooling her burning fever and composing her stormy bosom. True
+that she _knew_ she was a delicate, a houseless, friendless, penniless,
+and helpless wanderer in a strange country—she _knew_ this, but somehow
+she could not _feel_ it! She only felt the delicious influence of the
+evening air. A great deal of the anguish she had experienced at parting
+with Raymond had been expended in the passionate letter she had written,
+in the passionate tears she had shed. The gathered force of the storm
+had burst and was over! She was now refreshed. Instead of fainting on
+the road at every step she took, coolness and strength seemed to strike
+up from the living earth through her feet, passing into all her limbs.
+And it seemed to her childish fancy that in the low music of the
+insects, of the waters and the winds, she heard the angels whisper,
+“Come along! come along! be a good girl! we are with you!” and she
+toiled on, _led_ on, not knowing where, until the road declined and
+narrowed into a deep, cool, green forest dell, when, overpowered by a
+delicious drowsiness, she lay down to sleep. She did not feel alone or
+wretched—it was strange, but she did _not_. Nature seemed to embrace her
+in a loving, maternal, _conscious_ embrace; God seemed bending over her
+in blessing. She lay down in the green and growing leaves that seemed to
+close over her like kindred arms. She fancied in her dreamy, sleepy
+half-consciousness, that the leaves which kissed her cheek _knew_ what
+they were doing—that the large, bright, solitary star that gazed at her
+through the overhanging foliage, _loved_ as it watched her; only half
+awake, she stretched her hand up towards it, gratefully smiled, dropped
+her arms, and fell asleep!—into a sweet, healthful sleep, and dreamed a
+heavenly dream. She saw the Heath, the bay, and the river. The heath no
+longer a desert, but covered with fields of waving grain and pastures,
+that fed flocks of sheep and droves of kine. She saw the forest
+glittering green in morning dew, and the river flowing brightly on to
+the bay that flashed in the morning sun. She saw the Hall, no more a
+ruin, but rebuilt upon the old model—an imposing, yet beautiful villa of
+white freestone, with verandas running all around it; with vines twined
+about its pillars; with birds singing in their leaves, and children
+sporting under their shade. She saw Hagar in the high, bright bloom of
+health and happiness. She saw Raymond seated at his wife’s side, with
+one arm enfolding her form; she saw or _felt_ herself seated at their
+feet, her head reposing upon Hagar’s lap, and Raymond’s sedative, white
+fingers running through her ringlets; and she knew that she loved them
+_both_ well enough to give her life for them, nor could she distinguish
+any difference in the affection she bore to either. Her heart was
+filling and rising with a strange joy; she awoke. What was before her?
+The sky of Italy still bent above her—the bright star still looked down
+through the foliage upon her,—the flowers and herbs of Italy still
+bloomed around her—the high road to Parma lay before her,—but what was
+on that road? A group of men with torches, bending over her. She gazed
+in startled wonder for a moment,—she was awake and conscious again!—an
+unpardoned sinner—a fugitive and a wanderer far from her native country.
+Were these grim-looking men with torches come in pursuit of her, and
+would they carry her back to Genoa? or were they a band of the dreadful
+banditti that, inhabiting the fastnesses of the Appenines, sometimes
+poured down in hordes, scourging the country with fire and sword, even
+to the city gates? Quick as lightning all this flashed through her
+brain, and she fainted from terror before the tones of a very sweet
+voice from a carriage on the high road could reassure her, in the
+following question, apparently addressed to the men around her—
+
+“What is it, Signor Guillio?”
+
+“A woman, a young lady, I should judge, your Highness.”
+
+“_A young lady?_”
+
+“Yes, your Highness.”
+
+“Is she hurt?”
+
+“I’m afraid so, madam! I am nearly sure that the carriage wheels passed
+over her limb, and that she has fainted from the pain.”
+
+“Oh, I am _very_ sorry!—but how could she have come there? and how very
+careless to drive over her. Signora Morchero, will you have the kindness
+to alight and examine into the extent of the mischief done?”
+
+A lady now descended from the carriage, and stepping up to the recumbent
+form of the fainting girl, stooped and examined her—noticing the
+richness of her dress, the rareness of her beauty, the delicacy of her
+hands and feet, and the highbred expression of every lineament while
+trying to discover where she might have received injury.
+
+“Will you not examine her limbs, to see if they have been fractured,
+Signora?” again inquired or rather commanded the voice from the
+carriage.
+
+The lady bent down, and feeling her ankles, arose again and said—
+
+“Her limbs are not fractured, madam, I think, and the obstruction that
+the wheels passed over may have been only her guitar; still she is in a
+swoon.”
+
+“This is very extraordinary—what does she look like?”
+
+“She has the appearance of a young person of rank.”
+
+“Signor Guillio, give me your hand—I wish to alight,” said the lady in
+the carriage.
+
+The gentleman, who held a torch, passed it to a page, and went up to the
+vehicle, reverently assisting the lady to descend from her carriage.
+Leaning on his arm, she approached the prostrate girl; bidding the page
+hold the torch lower and nearer her face, the lady examined her features
+attentively. She seemed struck,—deeply interested. Indeed, it was a
+strange, beautiful picture, upon which no one could look with
+indifference; the lovely, snowy face, with its delicate Grecian profile,
+half-shaded by the luxuriant tresses of bright golden hair, and both
+thrown out into strong relief by the black velvet dress and the dark
+green pillow of leaves.
+
+“Lift her up, Signor Guillio, and place her in the hindmost carriage,
+with our page and tirewoman; lift her gently,” said the lady, “we cannot
+leave her here.”
+
+The gentleman obeyed; but just as he raised her in his arms, Rosalia
+opened her eyes; she shuddered and closed them again in fear; but the
+lady addressed her in a soothing tone, and she looked up once more.
+
+“You have lost your way, probably, young lady?”
+
+Rosalia looked up into the lady’s gentle face—she understood Italian
+imperfectly, so she answered in the affirmative, not knowing what else
+to say.
+
+“Are you hurt?” inquired the lady.
+
+Rosalia replied that she was not.
+
+“Were you going on to Parma?”
+
+Again, in her surprise and uncertainty, Rosalia replied affirmatively.
+
+“Then we can take you there,” said the lady, and turning again to the
+gentleman whom she had addressed as Signor Guillio, she said—
+
+“Put her into the carriage with the Signora Bianca, and let us proceed
+on our journey; it is late, and the air is chill.”
+
+Signor Guillio assisted the girl to arise, and, lifting her guitar, led
+her on to a plain, dark carriage, that, standing some yards behind the
+foremost one, was out of sight from the spot on which she had been
+lying. Lifting and placing her in it, he merely said to the occupant
+already there—
+
+“A traveller, Signora, whom the Grand Duchess has picked up, and intends
+carrying on with her to Parma,” and handing in the guitar, he closed the
+door, and returned to the carriage of the lady, who had already resumed
+her seat. The party moved on.
+
+The carriages rolled on. Rosalia seemed to herself to be still sleeping,
+still dreaming. Nay, _this_ position seemed more unreal than the dream
+from which she had been awakened. At length she said to her silent, and
+sulky, or weary companion—
+
+“Will you have the goodness to inform me, Signora, to whom I am indebted
+for this kindness?”
+
+“Do you not know, then?”
+
+“Indeed, I do not. I seem to myself to be dreaming, and have only a dim
+notion of how I came here; who was the benevolent lady who spoke so
+kindly to me?”
+
+“You are a very new comer into this neighborhood, as well as a
+foreigner, if you do not recognise Her Royal Highness, Maria Louisa,
+Grand Duchess of Parma, who has been spending some weeks at the sea
+side, and is now returning to her own capital.”
+
+The simple girl was struck into silence by astonishment and awe.
+
+It was near midnight when the carriages entered the gates of a fortified
+city, and rolling through the streets, at length paused before a
+magnificent palace. The party entered its portals. Rosalia was provided
+with a lodging within its precincts, by the woman who had been her
+fellow-passenger.
+
+It was about eleven o’clock the next day when she was summoned to the
+presence of the Grand Duchess. Maria Louisa was in her dressing-room
+under the hands of her ladies, who were arranging her morning toilet.
+Rosalia entered the sumptuous apartment and the august presence with
+downcast eyes and hands simply folded upon her bosom; her golden
+ringlets, parted above her high, pure brow, fell glittering down upon
+the black velvet boddice of her dress. Everything in her looks and
+motions repelled suspicion and disarmed prejudice as she floated
+gracefully on and paused meekly before the Grand Duchess.
+
+“Who and what are you—whence come you, and whither are you going, young
+girl?” inquired Maria Louisa.
+
+Rosalia raised her gentle lids to meet the noble but haughty eyes of the
+Grand Duchess, and, inspired by a sudden impulse, in meek accents begged
+permission to tell her little tale.
+
+Maria Louisa, seeing her languid appearance, pointed to a low ottoman at
+her feet, bade her seat herself and proceed. But _how_ to proceed
+without deeply inculpating Raymond, she did not know; at last she
+thought—
+
+“This great lady is so far above us, and so far away from us, that the
+full knowledge of the facts put in her possession cannot hurt
+Raymond—and at least, if I speak at all, I _must_ tell the truth,” and
+then Rosalia, in her imperfect Italian, “broken music,” told her story,
+told it truly, weeping and blushing, but not concealing her own errors,
+or sparing her own feelings. Maria Louisa listened with close attention
+and deep interest. Now, whether it was that, by reason of the narrator’s
+broken language, the Grand Duchess did not understand her errors, or
+whether because of her ingenuous confession, Maria Louisa was inclined
+to overlook or forgive them, is not known; but it is certain, that
+having fully ascertained the perfect destitution of the friendless young
+stranger, and her entire willingness to enter her service, the Grand
+Duchess, in rising to leave her dressing-room, said—
+
+“I appoint the Signora Rozzallia second assistant to my lady of the
+wardrobe,” and dismissed her. Later in the day, Her Royal Highness was
+heard to say,—“That young maiden has a perfect cherub’s face. Truth and
+goodness radiate from it.” Later in the _week_, Rosalia was called to
+sing and play before Maria Louisa; and later in the month, she became
+the favorite attendant of the Grand Duchess.
+
+A strange, vague fear and doubt kept Rosalia from writing to any of her
+friends at present. After the lapse of some weeks, she began writing to
+Sophie; but a strong dislike to expose the vice of Raymond to any of his
+own friends, caused her to destroy the letter on finding it to be
+impossible to give any true account of herself without compromising him
+with his family.
+
+Thus months elapsed, while she remained in the service of Maria Louisa,
+Grand Duchess of Parma, where we will leave her for the present.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XLIV.
+                           THE QUEEN OF SONG.
+
+              “Radiant daughter of the sun!
+              Now thy living wreath is won.
+              Crowned of Fame!—oh!—art thou not
+              Happy in that glorious lot?—
+              Happier, happier far than thou,
+              With the laurel on thy brow,
+              She that makes the humblest hearth
+              Lovely but to one on earth!”
+                                                  HEMANS.
+
+
+Two months have passed since the arrival of Gusty May at the “City of
+the Sultan,” and Captain Wilde is ordered to take command of the
+Rainbow, and carry her home—Gusty May remaining attached to the ship as
+third Lieutenant; and they sail from Constantinople, intending to touch
+at Genoa, to bring away the American Consul, who is recalled to
+Washington. It was on the first of June that the Rainbow cast anchor in
+the Gulf of Genoa, before “the City of Palaces.” Gusty’s heart was
+throbbing with anxiety to prosecute in that city and neighborhood his
+search for Rosalia, of whom they had not as yet received one word of
+intelligence. The first man that came on board to greet him on his
+arrival, was—who but Lieutenant Murphy, who was attached to the Phœnix,
+then at that port.
+
+“Well, my finest fellow in the service, how does the world treat you
+nowadays? Got struck from the navy list, for running away with a pretty
+widow, hey? You miserable sinner for getting found out! Well, where is
+this new Cleopatra, for whom this modern Marc Antony lost the world? And
+beyond all the rest, where is the ‘golden girl?‘—aye, where is _she?_
+D—l burn me if I don’t court her myself if you have failed. I’ll see if
+I can’t wake her up just a little bit—for—
+
+               “‘Oh, she is a golden girl,
+               But a man—a _man_ should woo her;
+               They who seek her shrink aback,
+               When they should like storms pursue her!’”
+
+“May I be court-martialed, keel-hauled, and dismissed the service, if I
+don’t make her Mrs. Patrick Murphy O’Murphy, and place her at the head
+of one of the handsomest establishments in fair Louisiana, if you don’t
+prevent me quickly, my boy!—for—
+
+                     ”‘Oh, she is a golden girl!’—
+
+“By the way, talking about beauties, have you seen the St. Cecilia yet?”
+
+“Saint who?”
+
+“‘Saint who,’ just hear him! where have you been all these months that
+all Europe has been sung into ecstasies, trances, hallucinations,
+heavens, by a new Orpheus—by St. Cecilia—by Hagar, the Egyptian!”
+
+“What?—who—which?—where?—when?”
+
+“Whither?—why?—wherefore?—come, go on, give us the whole list of
+interrogatories, and when you get through, I’ll begin to answer. I said,
+Hagar, the Egyptian—the Spirit of Music—the Queen of Song—Hagar of the
+Lightning, as her admirers call her—Hagar, the Gipsy—Hagar, the
+Indian—the Miser—the Prude, as her mortified lovers call her. If you
+have not seen her you must go to see her to-day; she has been in the
+city only twenty-four hours. I who saw her at Venice and at Paris, and
+was introduced to her as a countryman, I have the entrée, and will
+present you—but where the devil have you been all this time, never to
+have heard of Mrs. ——, for that is her name?”
+
+Gusty was divided between his joy and surprise at finding his old friend
+Hagar so near him, and hearing of her success, and his perplexity in
+untangling the wisp of illusions with which Mr. Murphy’s perceptions
+were fettered. They were now standing on the deck—Gusty being on duty
+could not leave the ship; Gusty looked around—sailors were passing
+about—this was no spot for a confidential communication, so he remained
+silent.
+
+“When I told you that I had the entrée to this lady’s apartments,
+Gusty—I mean to say, that I called on her once in Paris, once in Venice,
+and that I have left my card at her door to-day; she was out. She sings
+this evening, and the Grand Duchess of Parma, now on a visit to this
+city, is expected to honor her concert to-night with her presence. I
+will take you to her house this afternoon, if you wish it.”
+
+“Can you do so without her permission?”
+
+“Surely—yes. One does not need to ask permission of a lady in a foreign
+land to present a respectable countryman of her own to her.”
+
+“A countrywoman of ours,” said Gusty, willing to draw him out without
+divulging any truth there; “how is that?—have I ever heard of her?”
+
+“No, I suppose not—this is something like her career though:—last fall
+she suddenly appeared in New Orleans, gave a concert which succeeded
+brilliantly, and which was followed by a succession of splendid musical
+entertainments, each more astonishing than the last; and just as people
+began to inquire and ferret out her history, she withdrew herself from
+the city, suddenly and quietly, as though she had sunk through the
+ground—which she probably did. She arose to the surface again in the
+midst of the city of Paris—threw the musical world there into ecstasies,
+and passed on to Vienna, Venice, Naples, Genoa, tracking her way with
+music, light, and glory. She has avoided England, as she is said to have
+avoided the Northern states of her native country. She has tended
+southward, towards the sun.”
+
+“You seem to be strongly interested in this lady,” suggested Gusty, with
+a view of setting him off again, for he had paused, and fallen into a
+reverie.
+
+“Well! yes, and no—that is, I admire her—wonder at her—get absorbed in
+her—but it is an emotion of terror, awe, and admiration—such as one may
+feel in a grand storm, in the midst of sublime scenery, or, at best,
+under the canopy of a splendid starry night—but—as for what _I_ call
+being interested in a woman—that is to say, in love with her—I, or, in
+fact, anybody else, I suppose, should as soon get in love with Vesuvius
+burning.”
+
+“Yet you spoke of the malice of her disappointed lovers.”
+
+“Calling her ‘the miser,’ ‘the prude,’ ‘the Indian,’ &c., &c.,—yes, but
+man! they were not lovers of anything else but themselves. The truth is,
+this lady’s private life is one of utter _se_clusion and _ex_clusion,
+and all the _petits maitres_ in the world are piqued at the _caprice
+bizarre_ that shuts up this divine cantatrice with her children, when
+she should be giving _petits-soupers_ to their elegancies—and the vanity
+of each is interested in constituting himself an exception to this rule,
+and he is proportionately wounded and indignant when his overtures of
+acquaintanceship are rejected.”
+
+“Then the life of this singular woman is divided between her
+professional labors and her children?”
+
+“No—not her whole life—she is, among other extraordinary things, ‘a
+mighty hunter before the Lord’—and when she was in Germany last spring,
+is said to have achieved wonders in that line. But I am tired of
+this—where in thunder is the Captain? and are you to be pinned to the
+main-mast all day?”
+
+“Gone on shore to have a conference with Raymond Withers, the American
+Consul, who you know, or perhaps you do not know, is a family connexion,
+worse luck!”
+
+“No, I did not know that, but I do know that the new administration has
+recalled him.”
+
+“Yes, and we are to take him home—d—l fetch me if I think it is
+safe—doubt if the ship can reasonably be expected to go safe into port
+with such a load of sin and misery aboard!”
+
+“Why, what is the matter!”
+
+“Oh, nothing, only I hate the fellow, and cannot be expected to speak
+well of him.”
+
+“Well, about this American nightingale; will you be off duty, and shall
+I come to fetch you this afternoon?”
+
+“N-n-o, Murphy, not this afternoon,” said Gusty.
+
+“When, then?”
+
+“I’ll let you know to-morrow.”
+
+And the friends separated—the rattle-pated Murphy returning to his own
+ship, the Phœnix, then preparing to sail from the Gulf of Genoa—and
+Gusty, remaining where he was left, pacing the deck, chafing and fuming,
+and cursing the delay that kept him chained to the spot, when he was
+dying to go on shore and seek Hagar. It was late in the afternoon before
+the return of Captain Wilde released him from duty, and merely pausing
+long enough to hear that Raymond Withers was still suffering from the
+effects of his long illness, as well as from severe anxiety to hear
+tidings of his lost sister, to whose strange fate no clue had as yet
+been obtained—
+
+“Did he mention Hagar?” inquired Gusty.
+
+“Yes—that is, he said that it had been some time since he had heard from
+her, and wished particularly to know whether we had received a letter
+from her lately; of course I told him that we had not—that in fact we
+never heard from her at all—that she seemed to have dropped us—”
+
+“Did he say when he had heard from Hagar last?”
+
+“No—I inquired, but he said, vaguely, that he could not be precise to a
+day—that it had been—something over a month.”
+
+“Yes! I should think it had been—_something over a month_!” said Gusty.
+
+“What do you mean by _that_, Gusty?”
+
+“Oh, nothing! only it has been something over a month since mother wrote
+to me, and women seem to be lazier with their pens than with their
+tongues, that is all.”
+
+The truth is that now Gusty was in the Mediterranean, Emily Buncombe
+wrote to him only, making him the medium of her affectionate messages to
+the rest of her absent relatives, and Gusty, in “giving her love,”
+always suppressed any allusion to Hagar, or merely said “Hagar is well,”
+leaving it to be inferred that she was still at the Rialto. Raymond
+Withers had, as has been seen, so artfully avoided the subject of his
+domestic affairs as to leave Captain Wilde still ignorant of the
+estrangement between himself and his family. The streets were bathed in
+moonlight, as Gusty May passed through them on his way to that quarter
+of the city in which he had ascertained the residence of Hagar to be
+situated. She occupied a suite of apartments in an old palazza inhabited
+by a venerable Genoese couple. Gusty knocked loudly at the porter’s
+lodge before he could make himself heard. At last a grey-haired man
+opened the door.
+
+“Can I see Mrs. ——?” inquired he, giving the _nom de guerre_ by which
+she was professionally known.
+
+The old man shook his head, and was about to close the door in Gusty’s
+face, when he took out his card and placing it in the hands of the aged
+servitor, requested him to take it up to the lady. He did so; and in a
+few minutes returned and bidding Gusty follow him, led the way up the
+paved walk to the main entrance into the hall of the palazza, and
+throwing open a door on the right showed him in, and retired. The room
+was empty, and Gusty had ample time to notice its lofty ceiling,
+spacious extent, and the decayed splendor of its old-fashioned hangings
+and furniture before a door at the upper end opened, and a regal looking
+woman, that he scarcely recognised for Hagar, entered. She was evidently
+arrayed for the evening’s exhibition. Her dress of black velvet was
+thickly embroidered with gold; her tresses, grown out rich and beautiful
+again, were held back from her brow by a serpent whose scales were
+formed of overlapping emeralds, and whose eyes were rubies, and fell in
+long, glittering, blue-black ringlets far below her waist; her arms were
+bare, but serpent bracelets twined around them. Over her whole figure
+and costume, except that it was thrown back from her face, depended a
+large, black lace veil wrought with gold. She advanced towards the
+middle of the floor, and Gusty, starting up to meet her, held out his
+hand.
+
+“I am so happy to see you, Gusty, my dear friend, it is such a joyful
+surprise. How long have you been at this port?”
+
+“Only came in this morning.”
+
+“Sit down, Gusty,” said she, taking a seat herself.
+
+Gusty followed her example, and turned to note the change that had
+passed over her pale but noble features.
+
+“Gusty, I have been highly successful in my art since I left home, as,
+perhaps, you have heard. I have made a professional tour of Europe, and
+have only been twenty-four hours in this city. To-night I sing, and the
+Grand Duchess of Parma will honor the concert with her presence. I tell
+you all this, my dear friend, because I know you will care as much as I
+do for my little victories. I was about completing my toilet when you
+sent up your card, Gusty, and I had given orders that all persons should
+be denied. I would have admitted no soul but yourself, Gusty, and in
+very truth I am not pleased that you should see me tricked out in this
+way, but to-night I bring out Athenais, a composition of my own, and
+have to sustain the principal part, that is it! Come to me to-morrow,
+Gusty, and you shall see me, _myself_, you shall see my children, they
+are both with me; my little girls,—they are three years old, you
+know,—can sing better than they can talk, they are in bed now, and I am
+obliged to leave the house in half an hour to go to the music-rooms. I
+am usually attended by a matron who is my children’s nurse, and my own
+maid, but on this occasion will you make one of the party, Gusty?”
+
+“With great pleasure, dearest Hagar! but it is so strange to meet you
+thus; and if one may ask, why do you come to Genoa of all cities in the
+world?”
+
+“For the reason for which you would suppose that I would keep away,
+Gusty, namely, because—”
+
+“_Mr. Withers is here._”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+Gusty sighed deeply, and Hagar unconsciously echoed the sigh.
+
+“Does he know that you are here, Hagar?”
+
+“I presume not.”
+
+“Will you advise him of your presence?”
+
+“Certainly not.”
+
+“Then what was your object in coming here—but—pardon me, Hagar; the
+interest that I feel in you makes me impertinent, I fear.”
+
+“No, dear Gusty, not impertinent. Well! I will tell you,” she said,
+turning, and looking away from him, as a shadow overswept her forehead
+and her voice choked. “It was—unseen by him—to look upon his face and
+form once more, unheard by him, to hear his voice once more, there! that
+is it—condemn, despise me if you please—but that was my motive in coming
+to Genoa.”
+
+Gusty looked upon her high, pale brow, and remained in silent thought
+for the space of several minutes, and then he said,
+
+“I suppose you have heard very little from your friends during your
+travels, Hagar?”
+
+“_Friends!_”
+
+“Well! family connexions, then.”
+
+“I have heard _nothing_ from them.”
+
+“Captain Wilde and Sophie are in port here.”
+
+“Ah!”
+
+“Yes—I am attached to Captain Wilde’s ship.”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“And we are to take the American Consul home.”
+
+“_Indeed!_”
+
+“Certainly—did you not know of his recall?”
+
+“Not one word,” replied Hagar, and she fell into profound thought.
+
+“Now I dare be sworn that you have heard nothing from Ros—”
+
+“Oh! for God’s sake, hush! exclaimed Hagar, as a spasm contracted her
+whitening features.
+
+“I must finish if it knocks you down, Hagar! so brace yourself! I say
+that you have not heard that Rosalia is the own sister of Raymond
+Withers!”
+
+“Oh! my God, _no_!” exclaimed Hagar, growing dreadfully sick.
+
+“_Hush! stop!_ be easy, listen. Rosalia is _innocent_—_do_ keep still,
+Hagar! _innocent_. I address myself to your _thought_, not to your word!
+Rosalia is pure! she fled the day of her arrival at Genoa, and has
+hidden herself ever since!”
+
+“What do you tell me, Gusty? Am I dreaming?”
+
+“I am telling you the truth, and you are not dreaming.”
+
+“And where is she? And what has put it into your head that she is
+Raymond’s sister, for _that_ part of the story I cannot believe?”
+
+Gusty looking at his watch and finding that there were at least twenty
+minutes to spare, began and told her the whole story, promising to bring
+her the documents that would prove it true the next day.
+
+“_Say nothing, however, to Captain Wilde or Sophie of my presence in the
+city._”
+
+Gusty promised that he would not, and they soon left the house for the
+concert-rooms, which they reached in ten minutes’ drive.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+The concert hall was crowded—crammed. It is with only a few of the large
+and elegant audience that we have to do. The Grand Duchess of Parma and
+her suite occupied a box near the stage, and at her feet sat her
+favorite attendant, Rosalia, fanning her with a fan of ostrich feathers.
+The blue silk curtains of her box were closely drawn, concealing her
+party from the eyes of the audience, while they left a good view of the
+stage. Gusty May had a motive of his own for what he did upon arriving
+at the Hall, namely: he accompanied Hagar in at the side door, to the
+rooms in communication with the stage, and concealing himself behind the
+curtain, took a sheltered view of the audience. He wished to see if the
+American Consul was in the house. His eye fell upon Raymond Withers,
+seated in the most distant part of the house. He was the sole occupant
+of the box. With a quick nod of his head, Gusty retired, and meeting
+Hagar, who was seating herself before the harp, preparatory to the
+rising of the curtain, he said,
+
+“Mr. Withers is in the house, Hagar, but perhaps you anticipated this
+contingency?”
+
+Hagar turned very pale, and said,
+
+“I thought of it—where does he sit? for _I must not turn my eyes towards
+that quarter of the house_.”
+
+Gusty told her, adding—
+
+“I took pains to ascertain, Hagar, so that I might inform and prepare
+you, for I know that with all your strength and self-possession, the
+sudden and unexpected sight of Raymond Withers—if it did not overwhelm
+you, would at least endanger your success this evening.”
+
+Hagar thanked and dismissed him. He turned at the wing to note Hagar.
+The pallor of death was on her brow, and the arm that half embraced the
+harp trembled visibly.
+
+“Oh, this will _never_ do,” he said, “Hagar! let me bring you a glass of
+wine, or that curtain, now about to rise, will fall upon your
+_failure_.”
+
+“No, no, not wine, my heart and lungs are on fire now!—bring me
+ice-water—a large glass of ice-water; it is the only sedative for my
+feverish temperament.”
+
+Gusty departed, and returned with the desired restorative, and stood by
+her while she quaffed it,—stood by her until she was calm.
+
+“I must not fail before him, Gusty. Now leave me, and—_pray_ for me!”
+
+“Now,” thought Gusty, as he left her presence, and took his way around
+to the boxes, “I will go and take the vacant place by Mr. Raymond
+Withers’s side. It will be interesting to notice how he will look when
+that curtain rises, and gives to his view one whom he as little expects
+to see—as _I_ expect to see my poor hidden dove, Rosalia.”
+
+As Gusty said this, he passed behind a curtained box, between the
+fluttering silken drapery of which, he caught a glimpse of golden
+ringlets, flashing down the sweet, low forehead of a quickly averted
+Grecian profile, that shocked his heart into stillness an instant, then
+muttering to himself—“Why what a fool I am! That is the box of Her Royal
+Highness Maria Louisa,” passed on, and entered the box occupied by
+Raymond Withers. Gusty had not told Hagar so, but he had observed that
+the Consul was fearfully changed—his beautifully fair complexion was now
+sallow; his elegantly carved profile was now angular; from weakness or
+depression of spirits he had contracted a stoop. His dress was still
+elegant—for it was habitually so—of black throughout, relieved only by
+wristbands and collar of the most delicate linen, by a very minute but
+pure diamond pin, and by a glimpse of a watch chain that crossed his
+bosom. He was looking straight before him, towards the curtain, as
+though a strange attraction drew his eyes and thoughts there. Gusty
+entered without arresting his attention, until he said—
+
+“How do you do, Mr. Withers?”
+
+The Consul turned and greeted him with his habitually elegant
+self-possession, as though they had but parted an hour before, and
+nothing had occurred in the interval, and then gave his attention again
+to the curtain.
+
+“Very well, my prince of self-possession, sustain the character, but if
+the rising of that curtain don’t ruffle the down of your serene
+highness, I shall be in despair.”
+
+Gusty thought he would try him a little, and, as by way of opening a
+conversation with his quiet neighbor, he observed, carelessly—
+
+“You have seen this _chanteuse célèbre_ before?”
+
+“Never,” replied the Consul.
+
+“_No!_—I really thought you had, frequently.”
+
+Raymond Withers did not reply to this observation, and the attention of
+both was arrested by the rising of the curtain.
+
+Gusty looked first quickly, anxiously, upon the stage. Hagar was
+commencing her song with perfect self-possession; he next covertly
+glanced at Raymond Withers. He, with face pale as white ashes, set
+teeth, knitted brow, and fiery eye, was gazing at the songstress, who
+never turned her eyes towards him. The vast room was filling with music.
+The song was rising, swelling into a fierce tempest of grand harmony,
+like the rushing of many waters; then receding like the memory of a
+murmuring rivulet heard in infancy; now thundering on like the storm of
+battle “hurtling on the plains;” then dying away and away, distant, but
+yet distinct, like the retiring steps of spirits gliding down the steeps
+of space. The song was ended; a dead stillness, a long pause followed.
+The audience had forgotten the artist in her art—had forgotten to
+applaud until some one, perhaps really the least affected of all,
+recollected to break the tranced silence, and an avalanche of applause
+falling, shook the house to its foundation. But Gusty May looked at the
+Consul. He was sitting still and pale as an image carved in marble.
+Silence again fell upon the scene.
+
+The cantatrice had retired. Now a gentleman presenting himself before
+the audience bowed and waited to be heard. He announced that the sudden
+indisposition of Mrs. —— had for the moment, arrested the progress of
+the oratorio, but that she hoped to have the honor of appearing before
+them on the next evening—that in the meantime the entertainment would
+proceed without her. The gentleman bowed and retired. Many of the
+audience arose to leave the house, among the rest the American Consul,
+accompanied by Gusty May—whose proximity, whose very existence he seemed
+to have forgotten in the absorption of his thoughts. Raymond Withers,
+still followed by Gusty May, took his way round towards the stage door.
+Passing the box of the Grand Duchess Maria Louisa, he found it empty—and
+heard one lounger tell another, that the party had retired _because one
+of the ladies of her Royal Highness’ suite_ had fainted. They reached
+the saloon at the back of the stage. Raymond Withers, going up to the
+gentleman who had announced the illness of the _chanteuse_, inquired for
+Mrs. —— (giving her professional name).
+
+“She has just this moment left the house, signore,” replied the
+gentleman, courteously.
+
+“Will you furnish me with her address?”
+
+“I regret to say, signore, that it is not in my possession.”
+
+“Does any one here know where the lady lives?”
+
+“I fear not, signore.”
+
+Strongly suspecting some deception, Raymond Withers prosecuted his
+inquiries further without success. Beginning to feel ashamed of his
+position as a self-constituted spy, Gusty May now withdrew, leaving the
+Consul to pursue his investigations alone.
+
+Gusty hurried at once to the Palazzo Marinelli, the temporary abode of
+Hagar.
+
+“Where is Mrs. ——?” inquired he of the porter.
+
+“I do not know, signore, but she gave orders that you should be admitted
+when you called; will il signore follow me?” said the old man in
+Italian, as he preceded him to the palazzo, into the hall, and throwing
+open a door that led into a private room, retired.
+
+“Where is Mrs. ——?” again inquired Gusty, of the matron that came to
+meet him.
+
+“She was summoned from the concert, in haste, to the hotel of the Grand
+Duchess, and has gone thither. She merely stopped here an instant to say
+that if you called, I was to ask you to have the goodness to come again
+to-morrow morning.”
+
+The room was littered all over with trunks and boxes and disordered
+wearing apparel, that seemed to have been hastily thrown out of presses,
+bureaus, wardrobes, etc. Gusty thought, “This looks like a sudden
+journey, a flight,” but he said nothing, deferring his curiosity until
+the next day.
+
+“She told me that you would like to see her children, and that I was to
+show them to you,” said the woman.
+
+Gusty assented, and at her request followed her to the upper end of the
+room, where, withdrawing a white lace curtain that draped a large crib,
+she revealed the three sleeping cherubs. Gusty looked at them with a
+tender and growing interest, and then drawing back the curtain with his
+own hands, he breathed a sigh and a silent prayer for their welfare, and
+left the room and the house.
+
+It was late, very late, when Gusty returned to his ship, so that he
+found a difficulty in hiring a boat to take him thither. On his way,
+while gliding among the numerous shipping, he saw one small craft so
+remarkable for its elegance, that he could not fail to notice it; he saw
+the sailors very busy on the deck.
+
+“That is a beautiful little bark,” he said to the boatman.
+
+“Si, signore; she is the Compensation, bound for Baltimore, with the
+first tide to-morrow; they say a lady had her built; and that she
+carries away a band of German emigrants.”
+
+They were now by the side of the Rainbow, and Gusty, who in his relapse
+of abstraction had perhaps missed the latter clause of the boatman’s
+speech, paid his fare, and hastily sprang on board.
+
+Very early the next morning Gusty May arose and dressed. He came on
+deck, resolved to ask leave to go on shore immediately. The first object
+he saw was the Compensation getting under weigh. He stopped and watched
+her until, flowing before a fair wind, she was out of sight. Then,
+meeting Captain Wilde, he named his wish to go on shore, obtained leave,
+and hurried away.
+
+An hour’s hasty walk brought him to the Palazzo Marinelli.
+
+“Will you inform Mrs. —— that I have called, and let me know if she can
+receive so early?”
+
+“Mrs. —— has left the city with all her family, signore, and desired me
+to hand you this,” replied the porter, placing a thick letter in his
+hand.
+
+“Gone?—left the city—when?—where?”
+
+“At the dawn of day, signore.”
+
+Gusty looked at his letter, hastily opened it, and caught two smaller
+letters that fell from out of the large one, as he devoured its contents
+with his eyes and brain:
+
+
+  “DEAR GUSTY:—Meet me this day two months, at eight o’clock in the
+  evening, at Heath Hall. Bring with you Captain Wilde and Sophie, and
+  come prepared to receive from _my_ hand, the hand of Rosalia Withers,
+  whose best praise is, that she is worthy of _you_—whose best
+  testimonial of that fact is, that _I_ offer her to you. You bring out
+  the late Consul: I charge you, Gusty, as you value my friendship, to
+  make peace with him; nay, Gusty, as you value the blessing of God,
+  giving a long future of halcyon days, extend to your brother the right
+  hand of fellowship. I inclose two letters that I request you to
+  deliver to their respective addresses. _Au revoir_, dearest Gusty. I
+  shall precede you to Heath Hall only by a very few days.
+
+                                                                 HAGAR.”
+
+
+The two inclosed letters were directed, one to F. Raymond Withers, Esq.,
+American Consul for the city and port of Genoa—the other simply to
+Sophie Wilde.
+
+Divided between astonishment, joy, and regret, Gusty stood rooted to the
+spot for the space of five minutes after reading this letter. Then it
+flashed upon him like lightning that he had seen the ship that carried
+Hagar and her family from the shores of Italy, and such indeed was the
+fact, as upon a further investigation he proved. He hurried away to
+deliver the letter at the hotel of the American Consul, murmuring to
+himself,
+
+“Rosalia safe, found; well, I said so!—I positively _did_, the Lord
+knows it, although no one else would believe what a prophet I am!”
+
+Gusty gave the first letter to the porter at the hotel of the Consul,
+and carried the other on board the Rainbow.
+
+“F. Raymond Withers, Esq., American Consul for the port and city of
+Genoa,” had upon the previous evening returned, disappointed, fevered,
+and weary, to his sumptuous lodgings. Hastily divesting himself of his
+raiment, he fell exhausted upon his bed, and sank to sleep with a
+determination to find Hagar, and take possession of her early in the
+morning—a resolution which he carried out—in his dreams. At dawn the
+next day Raymond Withers arose, and only paused to arrange his toilet
+and to breakfast, because it was impossible to find anybody or any place
+one had to look for at such an early hour of the morning. Immediately
+after breakfast he hastened to the music-rooms to renew his inquiries;
+there he met the same gentleman who had answered his questions in such
+an unsatisfactory manner on the previous evening, but who now hastened
+to say that he had been so fortunate as to ascertain the address of the
+signora—she lived in the Palazzo Marinelli, in the north-western quarter
+of the city. The Consul, bowing his thanks, hastened thither. He was met
+by the old porter, who, in reply to his inquiries, informed him that the
+lady, with her whole family, had that morning sailed for the United
+States. Stunned with disappointment, nearly overwhelmed by despair,
+Raymond Withers returned to his hotel, there to find a present
+consolation and a future hope in the note addressed in the hand of
+Hagar, that had been left during his absence by an officer in uniform,
+as his page said. He tore the note open; it ran thus:
+
+
+  “DEAREST RAYMOND:—Meet me this day two months, at eight o’clock in the
+  evening, at Heath Hall. Come prepared to meet a new found
+  relative—your own and only sister, Rosalia,—and to unite with me in
+  bestowing her hand on one who loves her and is worthy of her. Measure
+  my wish to be reconciled with you, by your own anxiety to meet me. If
+  you ask why I have now fled your presence, and appoint a meeting of
+  some weeks’ distance—I reply, that under all the circumstances, it is
+  best. We must all be prepared by anticipation for our general
+  re-union, and I prefer to receive you in our own home, and under the
+  happiest auspices.
+
+  “HAGAR.”
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XLV.
+                       AN EVENING AT HEATH HALL.
+
+        Forgive and forget! why the world would be lonely,
+          The garden a wilderness left to deform,
+        If the flowers but remembered the chilling winds only,
+          And the fields gave no verdure for fear of the storm.
+                                            CHARLES SWAIN.
+
+               “I cannot think of sorrow now; and doubt
+               If e’er I felt it—’tis so dazzled from
+               My memory by this oblivious transport.”
+                                                   BYRON.
+
+
+For three months previous to the events recorded in our last chapter,
+the gossips of Churchill’s Point and its environs were thrown into a
+state of feverish conjecture as to the meaning of the new doings at
+Heath Hall.
+
+At first those who passed in sight of the old ruin, observed that a part
+of it had been pulled down, or had at last, as long predicted, _fallen_
+down, and went on their way without giving the circumstance a second
+thought. Then, as the season advanced, those who were in the habit of
+shooting water fowl on the moor belonging to the estate, or drawing a
+net for fish upon its beach, passing very near the Hall, noticed workmen
+engaged in pulling down the building. Upon being questioned, these men
+replied in a foreign language unintelligible to the inquirers. This news
+being carried straight to the village post-office, the country store,
+the tavern, and other resorts of male gossips, arrested the discussion
+of agricultural, commercial, and political subjects for the space of an
+hour. Conveyed thence to the tea-tables at home, it did not tend to
+quiet the nerves or incline to sleep the ladies of Churchill’s Point.
+There could be no intercommunication among neighbors that evening; but
+early the next morning every one went “a-visiting.” The disappointment
+was, that everybody having gone abroad in search of everybody _else_,
+nobody was at home to receive anybody. They missed each other. There
+could be no comparing of notes that day. In their rising excitement,
+they tried it next day without much better success, and dodged about the
+remainder of the week like two persons getting out of each other’s way
+on the pavement, and missing their object. At church, on Sunday,
+however, the neighbors assembled. Mrs. Buncombe was beset with questions
+that she could not answer. Mrs. Buncombe had a nervous dread of being
+supposed to be implicated in anything that might be going on at Heath
+Hall; and begged her friends to recollect that the family of that estate
+were not her blood relations, though every one seemed to be under the
+illusion that such was the case. In very truth the character of Emily
+had sadly degenerated since the death of the good and wise old parson,
+and since her marriage with a weaker, if not a worse man. But Mrs.
+Gardiner Green gave an improvised verbal invitation to “the ladies” to
+meet at tea at her house on the next evening. Sewing circles and other
+useful and agreeable Yankee inventions, had not then, and have not yet,
+travelled down to Maryland and Virginia. The Southern States are far
+behind the “Far West” in this respect. But to Mrs. Gardiner Green’s
+tea-drinking! par parenthèse, Mrs. Gardiner Green _now_ calls her
+evening assemblies “re-unions,” “at homes.” The ladies began to drop in
+at an hour that would be considered too early for _dinner_ now a days.
+Emily Buncombe went, in mood as nearly approaching the irascible as her
+indifferent nature would permit. I am not about to tell you of a
+Maryland tea-party with the tea-equipage of chased silver, upon which
+the crest and initials of the English ancestry have been religiously or
+pretendingly engraved, or of the inconceivable amount of _substantial_
+confectionery (none of your vaporish cakes and spiritual ices), all
+prepared under the eye of the mistress—no, nor of the baked canvas-back
+ducks, devilled crabs, fried oysters as large as the palm of your hand,
+or anything else, that made the ladies’ tea-drinking look like a public
+dinner given to a board of aldermen. I will not, because the bill of
+fare would run to the end of the chapter, and besides, it would make me
+hungry and I should have to stop to eat, and then I could not write. But
+I will _proceed_ to the _proceedings_ of the party. The “mysteries of
+Udolpho,” and Heath Hall were talked over, and it was decided that the
+one was as deep as the other. Emily Buncombe’s voice grew loud and sharp
+in disclaiming the least knowledge of the subject. Finally, as the
+weather was genial, it was agreed that the neighbors should get up a
+fishing festival upon the beach, and that being on the spot, they could
+take notes. Fish feasts, picnics, etc., at Heath Hall, were liberties
+that the neighborhood took without the slightest hesitation or
+compunction in the absence of the proprietor.
+
+The last of the week was fixed for the projected festival, and upon the
+day appointed the company assembled. They passed, in going to the beach,
+immediately through the grounds inclosed around the Hall. So rapid had
+been the progress of the work, that they looked upon the once damp
+cellars, now no longer damp, but excavated, cleaned, paved, and built
+up—and the foundations of the house relaid anew. Some half-dozen foreign
+looking men were at work under the direction of one in authority, who
+seemed to be an experienced architect. To all inquiries these workmen
+replied in a torrent of civil but unintelligible jargon. Tarquinius
+Superbus issued from the building covered with plaster and sawdust, and
+seeing the company, hastened away, donned his Sunday clothes, and went
+down to the beach to render assistance to the visitors that had honored
+Heath Hall with their presence. He had always been accustomed to do this
+at the command of the ever-hospitable and courteous proprietors of the
+Hall. When Tarquinius appeared, bowing and smirking his “obedience” to
+the company assembled upon the beach, he presented a fine opportunity to
+those in “pursuit of knowledge under difficulties.”
+
+He was inundated with inquiries. Tarquinius stood perplexed, bewildered.
+Tarquinius knew as little as any one on the ground; but it did not suit
+the self-conceit of Superbus to seem ignorant. Tarquinius mused—he
+thought of several lies to tell, but discarded one after the other as
+inadmissible. He seriously thought of telling the gaping listeners that
+“Mrs. Withers was drowned in the irruption of a whirlwind, and that Mr.
+Withers had married the daughter of the Pope of Rome, who had a gold
+mine for a dowager, and that they were coming to keep house at Heath
+Hall.” But he was afraid _this_ tale might be soon disproved, and
+substituted a more credible story—namely, that a large fortune had been
+left to Mr. Withers, and that Mr. and Mrs. Withers were about to return
+to Heath Hall, and had sent a staff of workmen under a German architect
+to rebuild the house. This, divested of its absurdly pompous mistakes of
+language, was about the amount of information gleaned by the picnickers.
+And this story in fine obtained credence, implicit credence. Everything
+confirmed it. Were not the workmen there? and was not the Hall being
+rebuilt in more than its pristine magnificence? With every circumstance
+that marked the progress of the redemption of the Heath and the
+rebuilding of the Hall, the esteem and respect of the neighbors for its
+proprietor increased. Every one began now to say what a sin it was to
+have slandered Hagar so—Hagar, too, who in her whole life had never been
+known to retail an item of scandal. This was not unnatural; calumny is
+more frequently the result of thoughtlessness than of malice. It was
+singular that each one now forgot that himself or herself had been most
+ingenious in his or her suspicions and explanations, and loudest in
+condemnation. There was a little “leaven of unrighteousness” in the
+“envy, hatred, and malice” of the few whose nature made them jealous of
+their friends’ prosperity; but upon the whole, the tide of popular
+feeling was setting in strongly in favor of the expected family at Heath
+Hall. The work progressed rapidly. At the end of three months you would
+not have recognised the place. From the foundation stones to the chimney
+summits, the Hall was entirely rebuilt of fine _red sandstone_, a
+beautiful dark, purplish red stone found in Maryland and Virginia. The
+walls around it were rebuilt, and the walks paved of the same material.
+The yards and gardens were cleared up, the trees trimmed, and the grass
+shaved down until it looked like velvet. The Heath was metamorphosed
+into a beautiful, clean, green sward, upon which children might roll and
+play with delight; the tangled thickets crowding here and there among
+the rolling hills were converted into beautiful groves; the muddy
+brooklets at their roots were changed into clear fountains or limpid
+springs, and seats were fixed there for the convenience of the weary or
+the contemplative passenger. At the Hall, the out-buildings were of the
+neatest and most convenient form, and every minutia of use or elegance
+received its due meed of attention. In a word, the ruin, the desolation,
+was redeemed, the wilderness reclaimed and “bloomed and blossomed like
+the rose.” People came from “far and near” to see the delightful change,
+and “Alto Rio,” the new name of the estate, cut in old English
+characters and half concealed in the oak foliage carved under the eaves
+of the house, became the synonyme for elegance and comfort through the
+whole neighborhood.
+
+It was three months from the first appearance of the workmen to the
+morning upon which a beautiful little bark was discovered moored under
+the shadow of the promontory. Her snowy sails were reefed, and a few
+neatly dressed sailors were engaged in removing a portion of the cargo
+from her polished deck to the boat that was to carry it to the beach,
+where a cart and horse waited to transport it by a circuitous path to
+the Hall. The sailors seemed to be foreigners. A great part of the cargo
+appeared to consist of elegant furniture, statuary, pictures, and
+articles of virtue, for many of the boxes, for convenience, were opened
+upon the beach. All day the little crew and the assistants from the Hall
+were engaged in unloading the vessel and conveying its freight on shore,
+and in conveying and arranging furniture in the Hall. From the moment
+that the first sight of these proceedings had been caught, a crowd of
+all the idlers and gossips of Churchill’s Point began to gather on the
+brow of the cliff to watch the operations of those upon the beach below,
+and many “Oh’s” and “Lords!” were ejaculated with gaping wonder as one
+splendid article after another was revealed to their view by the
+knockings up of the boxes upon the beach. But they were watching, if
+perchance Mr. and Mrs. Withers, with their family, were to be seen, or
+if they had come, or when they were coming. They watched and waited in
+vain. There _was_ a lady down in the luxurious cabin of that little
+craft, in which she was as much at home as in her native halls, but this
+lady waited patiently an opportunity of landing quietly after the crowd
+of gapers and starers should have dispersed. Day declined. The cargo was
+all disembarked, and even carried away. The beach was clear—the clean
+looking sailors resting on their nice deck. All was silent, still. There
+was nothing more to be seen, and the loungers began to think of their
+suppers and the marvels they had to relate thereat, and to disperse.
+
+The next morning at dawn, a little boat was brought around to the side
+of the vessel, and a lady assisted to descend into it. Then a maiden and
+three children were lowered one after the other into the skiff. Two
+sailors entered it, and taking the oars, rowed swiftly to the beach. The
+lady stepped upon the sand, the children dancing around her for joy to
+be released. Sending the youngest child, the little golden haired boy,
+before her to insure his safety, and leading the little dark-browed
+girls, the lady, followed by the maiden, began to ascend the side of the
+promontory by a flight of stone steps recently cut for the convenience
+of passengers. As the lady, with her children, reached the top of the
+flight of stairs, and stepped upon the highest point of the promontory,
+the first rays of the rising sun fell upon the head of Hagar like a
+blessing! a salutation! that her countenance flashed back in gratitude,
+in joy, as she bowed her head and knee, and reverently returned thanks.
+
+Let no one sneer. It was the overflowing love and worship of a profound
+soul deeply grateful for _past sufferings_ as for present happiness. She
+arose and led the children on to the Hall.
+
+What a different return was this to her landing in the stormy winter’s
+night more than two years before!
+
+All that day was occupied in a delightful review of the house and the
+grounds. The arrangements seemed to give Hagar the utmost pleasure. All
+the next day was spent in her elegant library, and devoted to business,
+looking into the accounts of her workmen, paying their wages, and so on.
+She gave up the third day of her arrival to pleasure, or rather to the
+preparation and anticipation of it; and while the children were left in
+the care of the maiden who loved them, Hagar employed herself in writing
+some hundred cards of invitation to all her old neighbors of the three
+nearest counties, to a festival to be given at Heath Hall on the evening
+of that day week.
+
+All these invitations were written in pale, blue ink, upon silver edged
+paper, and sealed with white wax by a seal of two doves. This is the
+Maryland fashion of announcing a marriage.
+
+“Now, tell me, dear Rosalia; are you quite satisfied—happy?” inquired
+Hagar of the gentle girl, who had looked in upon her occupation a
+moment.
+
+“Dearest Hagar! my saviour! I will call you my _sister_, when I dare!
+dearest Hagar! I have given myself to you, do with me as you please—make
+me your waiting maid—anything! I am in your hands—I am _yours_. I accept
+any destiny from you.”
+
+Hagar looked steadily with her calm eyes at the child, then said,
+
+“But, Rose—_Gusty_—do you not love him as he loves, and as he deserves
+to be loved?”
+
+“Dearest Hagar, I love _you_, wish to love you _only_, to worship, to
+serve you: dearest Hagar, what can I do for you?”
+
+“Be happy, Rose, and tell me about Gusty—do you not love him?”
+
+“Oh, yes! yes! I always _did_, you know—Hagar—” the child paused,
+trembled, grew pale; then lowering her voice, whispered, “Hagar, stoop
+down; there is something I have been dying to say to you, and never
+found courage to say it—” she paused again; Hagar’s brow grew crimson,
+and,
+
+“Do not say it then, Rose,” she murmured low.
+
+“But I must, I must; it is a rankling thorn that must be plucked out,”
+said the girl, in a suffocating voice, paling and fainting.
+
+Hagar laid down her pen, and drawing the child upon her lap, laid her
+head upon her bosom, and whispered, soothingly,
+
+“There! now say what you wish, Rosalia; as though you spoke to your
+mother, or—”
+
+“My guardian angel! You give me courage, dear Hagar! Well, listen! I
+loved—_everybody and everything_—indeed I did! the poor old negroes
+coming from their work, the blind old horses, and the crippled chickens,
+just as warmly as I loved you, beautiful Hagar! and Gusty, and
+Sophie—and—and—”
+
+“Your brother Raymond.”
+
+“Yes, I loved everybody and everything, because—because—I don’t know
+why.”
+
+“You loved the poor, ugly, and wretched, because you _pitied_ them; and
+the beautiful and happy because you _admired_ them, my child!”
+
+“May be so—I do not know—I only _love_. Well, I loved Gusty and Raymond
+_both_, and both _alike_—God knows I did! until—oh! Hagar, now
+listen—everybody seemed to forsake, or to hate me, and then I loved
+_him_ only—until—oh, now it comes—_now_ listen!”
+
+The girl buried her burning face in Hagar’s bosom, and lost her voice.
+Hagar stooped and caressed her. Rosalia resumed, whispering very low,
+
+“Until one day on the boat, very beautiful and bright he looked, and I
+threw myself in his arms, thinking no evil, only loving him dearly,
+and—_he kissed me_—it was not a _good_ kiss, like Captain Wilde’s and
+Sophie’s; it was a _dreadful_ kiss—it burned down through my cheek to
+the very centre of my spirit—it hurt me to the very heart—to the very
+quick of my soul! I got away and felt sick and guilty; felt changed and
+fallen. I was dizzy, reeling, and kept feeling at my cheek with my
+fingers, as if there was a scar there. I seemed to feel it. I was ill,
+and possessed with a mysterious fear and aversion of Raymond; yet when I
+saw my distance wounded him, I felt remorseful, and conquering my
+aversion, forced myself to keep near him. Wretched as I was, I could not
+bear to give him pain; and so, Hagar, I remained with him, and he kissed
+me so, again and again! and each kiss seemed to sink me lower and lower
+in a pit of infamy, until I could not bear the thought of ever facing
+any of my friends again. I was already fallen—lost in my own eyes. Oh!
+Hagar, listen! listen, my sister Hagar! I might have been insane, but I
+do not urge that in extenuation of my weakness. I was drawn in, and
+drawn in, like one in the whirl of a maelstrom—feeling the danger, the
+fatality—yet unable to stop myself—yet, Hagar, it was _all_
+suffering—_all_, Hagar! _all_. I felt already fallen below redemption. I
+was in the power of a will stronger than my own—and, oh! worse than all,
+I was afraid to pray; afraid to touch the bible, for fear something
+dreadful would happen to me as a judgment. I felt so sinful, _so
+sinful_. I felt ill on the voyage out. And _then_ I thought of Mary
+Magdalen, and I said, ‘If God, the Father, is of too pure eyes to behold
+iniquity, Christ will surely pity and deliver me.’”
+
+“But you should not have lost faith in God, dear Rosalia. You are the
+work of His hands, and you could not have fallen so low that the
+Father’s arm was not long enough to reach you, the Father’s hand strong
+enough to lift you, the Father’s love great enough to redeem you! Never,
+_never_ doubt it! The FATHER’S LOVE is the greatest reality of my
+experience. Oh, Rosalia! to doubt the love of God is to grieve the heart
+of God—believe it!”
+
+“Well, I prayed—_I prayed!_—and then it came into my head to run away
+when I should get to Genoa—and even if I perished from want indeed,
+Hagar, I was _willing_ to perish! But then—now here is a strange thing.
+After taking this resolution to leave him secretly, I felt a remorse at
+the idea of deceiving him, and giving him pain, and I could not bear to
+look on his confiding face. I _knew_ I was doing right in leaving him,
+yet _felt_ as if I were doing wrong!—explain this to me, Hagar—was I
+crazy?”
+
+“No, dear Rosalia; you were sane—_your_ love for him was pure and
+holy—_his_ passion for you was an illusion, an insanity. _Your_ love for
+him would have blessed and elevated him to heaven; his passion for you
+would have drawn you down to hell. Yours was divine love—his was
+fiendish passion. All powers of good and evil were striving in your
+bosom, poor Rosalia; but your angel saved you! But, Rose; do you still
+love your brother?”
+
+“Oh yes! yes! how can I help it?”
+
+“That is well, Rose—he is your only brother—he does not love you in any
+sort just now, I know; because sinful thoughts killed his love—but,
+Rose, _you_ must love him back to purity, to health and life, and _then_
+he will love you rightly. This will be difficult at first, but it will
+grow more easy every day. And Gusty, Rose! that noble man. Just give
+your whole heart, soul, and life, up to him, and think the gift—not
+enough!”
+
+“Ah, Hagar! Do I not esteem, reverence him for all you have told me of
+his goodness and greatness—only I am not worthy of him.”
+
+“He thinks you are, Rose, and you must try not to disappoint him.”
+
+“Well, now, dear Hagar, I have told you all—and you do not reproach me;
+alas! if you were to drive me away I could not complain.”
+
+Hagar caressed her fondly but gravely, and remained silent, continuing
+to write, fold, and seal her cards. At length they were all finished,
+and she requested Rosalia to ring the bell. Tarquinius answered it.
+Hagar collected her cards into a packet, and giving them to Tarquinius,
+gave orders that he should saddle a horse and ride to deliver to their
+address as many as could be forwarded that day—and to resume his circuit
+with the morning, until all should be disposed of. Then rising and
+calling Rosalia to follow her, she went into her chamber and sat down
+with the maiden to work on a beautiful white satin dress.
+
+Tarquinius Superbus mounted the most superb horse in the stable, and sat
+forth upon his mission. Never did a highland runner with the
+crois-taradh kindle a greater excitement among the rocks and glens of
+Scotland, than did Tarquinius with his missives. The first card was
+delivered at Mrs. Gardiner Green’s plantation. Mrs. Buncombe was taking
+tea with her (Emily had not called on Hagar since her arrival; but then,
+be it known, Hagar had given her no intimation of her return). The card
+was sent in and the messenger called in. He obeyed the summons, and
+stood, hat in hand, bowing and smiling, at the parlor door, where Mrs.
+Green and her guests sat at table.
+
+“A wedding at Heath Hall—and who is to be married?” was the question
+addressed to him by three or four ladies in a breath.
+
+Tarquinius did not know. He said he believed “that Mr. Withers had been
+killed in a duel with the King of Camshatka, and that Mrs. Withers was
+going to be married to the Prince of Patagonia;” and seeing several of
+the ladies for whom he had cards, present, Tarquinius, in a very
+unconventional manner, proceeded to deliver them, to save himself some
+miles of travel. Seriously doubting Tarquinius’ report and explanation
+of the mystery, the ladies all determined to accept the invitations to
+_le mariage inconnu_ to come off at Alto Rio.
+
+The day of the festival arrived.
+
+Rosalia was awakened from her morning’s dream by a soft kiss dropped on
+her forehead, and she raised her lids to see Hagar standing by her
+bedside, with brilliant eyes, arched brows, and smiling lips.
+
+“Good morning, dear Rosalia! _Good_ morning! Rise! it is a glorious
+day—see! the sun is smiling a salutation through your windows.”
+
+Rosalia, putting her two white arms up from the bed, lovingly drew down
+Hagar’s head and embraced her.
+
+“Come,” said Hagar, assisting her to rise and leading her to a window.
+“Look forth! It is an auspicious morning! All nature smiles upon your
+bridal day.”
+
+It was indeed a glad, jubilant morning! The sun had risen in cloudless
+splendor, tinting with a golden radiance the gauze-like vapor that
+rested as a veil over forest, heath, and Hall, river, cliff, and bay!
+The scene was full of freshness, light, and music!
+
+“Oh! look and listen, Rosalia, woods and waters sing and the birds pause
+to hear! listen!”
+
+“But, dearest Hagar,” said Rose, gazing forth upon the bay—“after all,
+suppose our friends do not come; a meeting appointed two months
+beforehand in a foreign country! So many things may have happened!”
+
+“Look, Rosalia!” replied Hagar, holding a letter, “they were in
+Baltimore a week ago; this letter is from Gusty, it came late last
+night. I did not get it until this morning; it is an _avant-coureur_ of
+our party. They will be with us by this evening’s boat.”
+
+Rosalia did not reply in words, but still happiness was beaming on her
+face.
+
+“Listen again, Rosalia, my darling—Emily will be over this morning to
+breakfast with us. Shame kept _her_ and pride kept _me_ from making any
+advances towards a renewal of friendly intercourse—but this morning I
+arose in a better mood. I could not feel resentment (that, however, I
+_never_ felt), but I could not feel indifference towards the mother of
+my dear, noble Gusty, and the future mother-in-law of my Rosalia. So,
+love, I wrote her a kind letter, explaining the whole affair. I told her
+that Gusty would be here this evening to fulfil an appointment, and
+begged her to come over this morning. Could we cherish a cold feeling
+towards any one to-day, love! She wrote me a line back to say that she
+would come with pleasure, and to say—what do you think, Rosalia?—that
+she would have been to see us before—wished to come, but doubted if her
+visit would be welcome? Come! I sent Tarquin immediately back with the
+carriage to bring her over to breakfast, for you know, love, that Emily
+has no conveyance but her horse—I expect her every minute—so dress
+yourself quickly, Rose, for breakfast.”
+
+Rosalia threw her arms around Hagar’s neck and thanked her. She was soon
+ready, and left her chamber accompanied by Hagar, and descended the
+stairs in time to see through the front door, Emily Buncombe alight from
+the carriage. Rosalia went timidly to meet her. Emily folded her to her
+bosom in a warm embrace, and then turned to receive Hagar’s offered
+hand. They went in to breakfast; but when Emily would have pushed a
+thousand questions as to Rosalia’s flight or abduction, and Hagar’s
+absence, the latter gravely replied that Rosalia had passed the whole of
+her time, from her landing at Genoa, first in the service of the Grand
+Duchess Maria Louisa, and afterwards with herself, and ended with the
+announcement that Rosalia was the sister of Raymond. In the stupor of
+astonishment into which this news threw Emily, she forgot to push her
+investigations about the flight any further; but made many inquiries
+concerning Rosalia’s newly discovered relationship. Hagar gave her all
+the information in her possession, and ended with announcing the fact,
+that Rosalia’s fortune, left to accumulate at compound interest as it
+had been, now amounted to the snug little sum of twenty-five thousand
+dollars; no plum, certainly, but still enough, taken with his income, to
+give Gusty a fair start in the world, at least to purchase that small
+estate, and build, ornament, and furnish that beautiful little home
+Emily was so anxious to secure for her son. These matters Hagar freely
+discussed with her, because she admitted that Emily had a personal
+interest in them. But when Mrs. Buncombe would have pried into her own
+private matters, Hagar gravely waived all interrogation, and Emily, in
+default of better information, was forced to take Tarquin’s account of
+matters and things—namely, the great fortune left to Mr. Withers in
+England. Notwithstanding this, the day was spent pleasantly, very
+pleasantly, in preparing for the evening; and Hagar, our Hagar! how can
+I describe her waiting for the evening! and how, as the hours passed,
+her brow became more and more arched and expanded, until it was open as
+the brow of hope! and how her steps became lighter and more light, until
+the spring of her little foot seemed to impel the earth upon its orbit!
+
+Day declined. Twilight was falling cool and purple over the forest,
+heath, and bay, as a packet boat wended its way down the Chesapeake,
+drawing near to Churchill’s Point. A party of passengers were collected
+on the deck—a party consisting of Captain and Mrs. Wilde, Lieutenant May
+and Raymond Withers. They were conversing gaily. The boat neared
+Churchill’s Point. The village was nearly dark and deserted; doubling
+Churchill’s Point they came in sight of Alto Rio, the new Heath Hall. It
+was brilliantly illuminated from attic to cellar. The lights streamed
+from its many windows—streamed across its lawn, revealing scores of
+carriages filling up the space between it and the water’s edge,—and
+streamed across the bay, throwing a flood of light upon the spot where
+the boat at last anchored, close by the side of another beautiful little
+craft, the Compensation, moored under the promontory. The travellers
+landed, and taking their way up the new stone steps that led up the
+ascent of the promontory, proceeded on their way towards the house,
+struck with admiration and astonishment at the marvellous changes they
+everywhere witnessed. It is true that Raymond Withers and Gusty May knew
+perfectly well the source of this sudden wealth, and even Captain Wilde
+and Sophie, since Hagar’s letter to the latter, divined it. The emotions
+of Raymond Withers were soon all merged in one strong feeling—a
+heart-burning impatience to clasp Hagar to his bosom. He thought that
+were he about to meet her in poverty, ill health, and humiliation, he
+should embrace her with as _much_ affection and with _more_
+self-respect—upon the whole, however, he was not anxious to have his
+disinterestedness submitted to this test. He had, before leaving the
+boat, bestowed the utmost attention upon his toilet, and his dress was
+now the very ideal of taste and elegance, as his person was of manly
+beauty. In the grand diapason of the reconciliation was trilling this
+one little absurd note.
+
+We will precede the party to the Hall.
+
+The lights from the Hall streamed from every window over the scene; the
+grounds in front of the Hall were blocked up with carriages. The
+verandas running around the Hall were crowded with coachmen and footmen,
+the attendants of the guests; the lower rooms of the Hall superbly
+furnished, beautifully ornamented, and brilliantly lighted, were filled
+with splendidly dressed company. An upper chamber of the house was
+occupied by three ladies; one, a young maiden, sat upon a dressing stool
+in front of a full length mirror, and two stood, one on each side,
+adorning her for the altar. Emily Buncombe looked very fine—in a
+straw-colored satin, with a pretty lace cap, trimmed with white
+snowdrops; our Hagar looked the princess that she was, in her delicate
+white lace, over a rich white satin, with her brilliant black ringlets
+collected at the back of her head by a diamond-set comb, and dropping
+gracefully upon her crimson cheeks, undulating neck and bosom. Diamond
+bracelets flashed upon her rounded arms, and a diamond necklace
+encircled her throat. It was Hagar who looked like a royal bride. But
+she was decking a bride. Not a jewel would Hagar permit to desecrate the
+maiden’s beauty. A chaste and simple dress of white silk, trimmed with
+narrow lace, leaving the full, rounded, and snowy neck and arms bare,
+and a very slight wreath of young orange blossom buds crowning her
+golden ringlets, completed her beautifully simple toilet.
+
+Two young girls from the neighborhood—young girls of twelve years old,
+selected that evening from the company below, were waiting to attend
+her. Her toilet was only just completed when a rap was heard at the
+chamber-door, and Hagar’s housekeeper entering said—
+
+“Mrs. Withers—Captain Wilde, Lieutenant May, Mr. Withers, and their
+party, have arrived.”
+
+Hagar had supposed that she would be prepared for this meeting,
+anticipated for two months past, and momentarily expected now. She had
+thought to have received him there, in her beauty, glory, and pride,
+with her regal self-possession,—but when the words “Mr. Withers has
+arrived” fell on her ear, her heart _sank down—stopped—the hand of death
+seemed on her_! Intense frost burns like fire in contact—extreme joy is
+so like pain as to be undistinguishable.
+
+“Ask him to come up,” said Hagar in a dying voice, as she stood leaning
+upon the shoulder of Rosalia for support—Rosalia still sitting on her
+dressing stool.
+
+Hagar felt that life and death were striving in her bosom—nay, she
+thought that death had come—and only prayed that her last breath might
+flow past Raymond’s cheek and hair, with her head upon his breast—as
+she leaned more heavily upon Rosalia, until her long black ringlets
+overswept and half concealed her form. Now she thought to receive him
+there! dying there! But lo! a light, quick footstep is on the
+stairs!—each footfall strikes a chord that vibrates to the centre of
+her heart! shocking all her nerves into electric life!—she
+started—sprang—color flowed richly back to her cheeks—light radiantly
+to her eyes! Like lightning she flashed from the room out into the
+dark passage.
+
+He was coming up the stairs, wondering how he should present himself
+before her, when, as he reached the landing, he saw a brilliant
+white-clad spirit gleam out across the darkness, and the next instant
+the angel was in his arms—_her_ arms about his neck—pressed to his
+bosom—her heart throbbing warmly, humanly against his own.
+
+No word was spoken yet. They had met unpremeditatedly—in silence and
+darkness—in that _pure_, though passionate embrace!
+
+What to them was all the wrong and woe of the last two dreadful years?
+Forgotten! as it had ever been. A dark background, only throwing out
+into stronger light the rapture of the present meeting—_for an
+instant_—but ah! when recollection came to one! He stooped over her and
+whispered—
+
+“Hagar! I have not one word to say for myself! not one excuse to offer
+for my weakness! not one syllable to breathe in palliation of my fault!
+Hagar, I am bankrupt!”
+
+But she drew him to a seat, for emotion was overpowering her, dropped
+upon his lap, her arms around his neck, her head upon his shoulder, her
+ringlets sweeping over him, and wept! wept!—she, from whose proud eyes
+of fiery light, bitterest _grief_ had never wrung one tear—_wept!_—as
+though the fountains of her life were broken up and gushing through her
+eyes! For _joy_, reader?—Not altogether; was not her king—_her_ king,
+discrowned before her? and though she loved him! loved him! as only high
+hearts like hers _can_ love—no _worship_ mingled with that love!
+
+But a bride was waiting to be led before the bishop. Rising, Hagar took
+his hand, and conducted him silently into the room, led him silently to
+Rosalia’s side, and laying her hand upon her shoulder, said softly,
+
+“Turn and greet your brother, Rosalia!”
+
+She arose, blushing, trembling, and Raymond Withers opening his arms,
+folded in one embrace his wife and sister to his bosom.
+
+Ten minutes after this a bridal party stood up in the middle of the
+gorgeous drawing-rooms below. Bishop Otterback performed the ceremony.
+Raymond Withers gave away the bride. Sophie Wilde removed the veil from
+the maiden’s head at the conclusion of the rites.
+
+The wedding was the most splendid festival ever given in —— county. Many
+of the guests from a distance remained all night. It was near the dawn
+of day before the visitors, those who left the house at all, dispersed,
+and those who remained had retired to rest.
+
+The sun was rising when Hagar, followed by her husband, entered the
+nursery. She led him to one little bed where the twin girls were still
+sleeping in loveliness. He stooped and kissed each brow without waking
+either. And then she drew him off to a crib, where slumbered the boy he
+had never seen. She stepped ahead of him, and lifting this child up from
+his morning sleep, stood him upon the floor in the sunlight to waken up
+in his beauty! And how sparklingly beautiful he looked with his pink
+feet on the rich carpet, and his golden curls falling in rippling,
+glittering disorder about his temples and throat, and flashing in the
+sunlight, as he stood there waking up, with his graceful head stooped
+sideways like a bird’s looking archly, shily, and half loving, half
+afraid at the handsome stranger standing near his mother. Raymond
+stooped and lifted him in his arms, and then the child, with a shout of
+clear, sweet laughter, recognised the father he had never seen before,
+expressing his delight in these words,
+
+“Oh! _you_ are beauty—like mamma!”
+
+With infants _love_ and _beauty_ are synonyms—everything they love is
+beautiful, and everything that is beautiful they love.
+
+“And what is his name, mine own Hagar?”
+
+“_Raymond!_ but for distinction sake, as well as that because he is a
+sunbeam, we will call him Ray!”
+
+The little girls now waking, and hearing their mother’s voice, arose and
+ran to greet her, and they too shared the caresses bestowed upon their
+infant brother.
+
+The beautiful family were all now united in love and joy.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+Later in the day, Hagar gave her husband an explanation that the reader
+must also have—she said,
+
+“You have not asked me, Raymond, about the foreigners around us; yet you
+must have wondered why I employed a dozen foreigners rather than my own
+country people—I will tell you in a very few words. All the money we
+possess was made in _Europe_, from ministering to the luxury of the
+wealthy aristocrats. But I saw numerous wretchedly poor and suffering
+peasants—many of them I found upon inquiry to be excellent artisans and
+agriculturists, who would work if they could obtain employment, and I
+said to myself, I am about to spend the money I have made here in
+rebuilding a ruin, and in reclaiming a wilderness. It will be a great
+labor, and it will only be justice to give this work to a few of the
+people among whom I made this money. I thought that if I could bring a
+dozen workmen over to this country, and give them employment for a while
+as a start, it would be but right. I had a little vessel built out
+there—I called it the ‘Compensation.’ I got a skipper and one or two
+experienced seamen—the rest of the crew consisted of the artisan
+emigrants I was to bring out. I paid them some money in advance to leave
+with their families, until they got settled in this country, and rich
+enough to send for them. I had previously sent out half-a-dozen
+mechanics under an architect, to rebuild the Hall; and in three months
+from the day of their sailing, and only one week ago, I arrived with my
+emigrant agriculturists. They are at work. I know this was right,
+Raymond, and I hope you think so.”
+
+“My noble Hagar!”
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+Alto Rio is now the most fertile and productive plantation in Maryland.
+The Hall is the seat of elegant hospitality. Hagar is now in the
+meridian of her life, and of her well preserved beauty. Her daughters,
+Agnes and Agatha, are grown up; they are called the twin beauties; her
+son is a noble boy, he is a cadet at ——; they have no other children.
+
+Not very far from Alto Rio is another handsome villa, it is the
+residence of Captain Augustus W. May, U. S. N., and is presided over by
+a lady who would be thought surpassingly beautiful and elegant in any
+neighborhood not adorned by the presence of Hagar Withers. They have a
+numerous family of girls and boys.
+
+Sophie is again in the Mediterranean, with Captain Wilde. They have no
+family, and assert that they are contented that such is their lot, and I
+thoroughly believe them, for they love each other devotedly, and are
+never separated, Sophie going with him on all his voyages.
+
+Our old friend, Blanche Rogers—have you forgotten her?—is now at last
+the Right Rev. Mrs. Otterback; she got the bishop at last. It was at
+Gusty and Rosalia May’s wedding that the final blow that brought him to
+her feet was struck.
+
+Emily Buncombe is still mistress of Grove Cottage, and Mr. Buncombe is
+still pastor of the Church of the Ascension.
+
+------------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+
+
+
+                          TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
+
+
+   Page            Changed from                   Changed to
+
+         6 Tidarsi è bene, e non fidarse Fidarsi è bene, e non fidarse
+           e meglio                      e meglio
+
+        19 But Sophie only gazed at him  But Sophie only gazed at him
+           with a started                with a startled
+
+        45 found the gentle and timorous found the gentle and timorous
+           child still shrink            child still shrank
+
+        55 or rather became of her       or rather because of her
+           reluctance, and               reluctance, and
+
+        73 Raymond,  standing at the     Raymond, were standing at the
+           window that overlooked        window that overlooked
+
+        79 their slovenly habits of      their slovenly habits of
+           cultivatic.—do you not        cultivation—do you not
+
+        84 brother; yet never did only   brother; yet never did any
+           child returning to            child returning to
+
+        97 on her sheek, leaving her     on her cheek, leaving her
+           contracted brow and           contracted brow and
+
+       139 Nessum maggior dolore,        Nessun maggior dolore,
+
+       151 idea repulsed, revolted       idea repulsed, revolted
+           him—he would nothing          him—he would do nothing
+
+       152 does find the means? I know   does she find the means? I
+           that she travels              know that she travels
+
+       163 and yon see the upshot! Why,  and you see the upshot! Why,
+           I’m reinstated                I’m reinstated
+
+ unchanged protegé                       protegé
+
+ ● Typos fixed; non-standard spelling and dialect retained.
+ ● Used numbers for footnotes.
+ ● Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76591 ***
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+  <body>   
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76591 ***</div>
+
+<div class='tnotes covernote'>
+
+<p class='c000'><strong>Transcriber’s Note:</strong></p>
+
+<p class='c000'>New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the public domain.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<div class='titlepage'>
+
+<div>
+  <h1 class='c001'><span class='large'>THE</span><br> DESERTED WIFE.</h1>
+</div>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c002'>
+    <div><span class='small'>BY</span></div>
+    <div class='c003'><span class='xlarge'>EMMA D. E. NEVITT SOUTHWORTH,</span></div>
+    <div class='c003'><span class='small'>AUTHOR OF</span></div>
+    <div class='c003'><span class='small'>“RETRIBUTION, OR THE VALE OF SHADOWS.”</span></div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c004'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“Various the ways in which our souls are tried;</div>
+      <div class='line'>Love often fails where most our faith relied;</div>
+      <div class='line'>Some wayward heart may win without a thought,</div>
+      <div class='line'>That which thine own by sacrifice hath bought;</div>
+      <div class='line'>Whilst thou, forsaken, grieving, left to pine,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Vainly mayst claim his plighted faith as thine;</div>
+      <div class='line'>Vainly with forced indulgence strive to smile</div>
+      <div class='line'>In the cold world, heart-broken all the while,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Or from its glittering and unquiet crowd,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Thy brain on fire, thy spirit crushed and bowed,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Creep home unnoticed, there to weep alone,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Mocked by a claim that gives thee not thine own,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Which leaves thee bound through all thy blighted youth</div>
+      <div class='line'>To him whose perjured soul hath broke its truth;</div>
+      <div class='line'>While the just world beholding thee bereft—</div>
+      <div class='line'>Scorns—not his sin—but <em>thee</em>, for being left.”</div>
+      <div class='line in40'><span class='sc'>Mrs. Norton’s Dream.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+  <div class='nf-center'>
+    <div><span class='large'>NEW YORK:</span></div>
+    <div>D. APPLETON &#38; COMPANY, 200 BROADWAY.</div>
+    <div>PHILADELPHIA:</div>
+    <div>GEO. S. APPLETON, 164 CHESNUT-STREET.</div>
+    <div>M DCCC L.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+</div>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c005'>
+    <div><span class='small'>Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1850,</span></div>
+    <div><span class='small'><span class='sc'>By</span> D. APPLETON &#38; COMPANY,</span></div>
+    <div><span class='small'>In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York.</span></div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c005'>
+    <div>TO</div>
+    <div class='c003'><span class='large'>DOCTOR WILLIAM ELDER,</span></div>
+    <div class='c003'>OF PHILADELPHIA,</div>
+    <div class='c003'>WHOSE CONSTANT ASSISTANCE AND KIND ENCOURAGEMENT</div>
+    <div class='c003'>CHEERED, INSPIRED, AND SUSTAINED HER</div>
+    <div class='c003'>THROUGH THE TOILS AND TRIALS OF HER VOCATION,</div>
+    <div class='c003'>This Book is Inscribed,</div>
+    <div class='c003'>AS AN ASSURANCE OF GRATEFUL REMEMBRANCE, BY</div>
+    <div class='c003'>THE AUTHOR.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-l'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Washington, June 3, 1850.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <span class='pageno' id='Page_5'>5</span>
+  <h2 class='c006'>INTRODUCTION.</h2>
+</div>
+<h3 class='c007'>MARRIAGE.</h3>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c004'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“Marriage is a matter of more worth</div>
+      <div class='line'>Than to be dealt in by attorneyship.”</div>
+      <div class='line in32'><em>Shakspeare.</em></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c004'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“The bloom or blight of all men’s happiness.”</div>
+      <div class='line in40'><em>Byron.</em></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c008'>In no other civilized country in the world is
+marriage contracted, or dissolved, with such
+culpable levity as in our own. In no other
+civilized country (except, perhaps, in France,
+just at present), can divorce be obtained with
+such facility, and upon such slight grounds.
+And it may be the very ease with which the
+sacred bond may be broken that leads many
+people into forming it so lightly. An obligation
+so easily annulled may be carelessly contracted.
+I remember an anecdote in point:—“Take care—this
+contemplated marriage of yours is a hasty
+affair—and when consummated, it is for <em>life</em>,
+you know—‘’Till death do you part,’” said a
+young man to his friend, who was about to enter
+into the “holy state.” “Oh, no! not necessarily—there
+are such things as <em>divorces</em>, recollect,”
+laughingly replied the perspective bridegroom—a
+handsome hero, of black eyes and
+white teeth—and his black eyes flashed, and his
+white teeth gleamed, as though he had been
+saying the wittiest thing in the world. The
+youth was in love—therefore his speech could
+not be taken seriously. He was jesting. <em>Still</em>
+his words betrayed—that even then, in the heyday
+of his passion, a future contingency was
+present to his mind. That future contingency
+<em>arrived</em>—would <em>never</em> have arrived—had he not
+known beforehand of its remedy. He married—lived
+with his young bride eighteen months.
+She became the mother of a little girl—fell into
+ill health—lost her beauty and attractions. He
+left her—to travel in Europe—he said—but
+years passed, and he never returned or wrote.
+He left her broken in heart; broken in health,
+injured in reputation; exposed to the misconstructions
+of the world; to the miseries of
+poverty; to the temptations of youth, of isolation,
+and of warm affections; to the pursuit of
+the licentious; to the calumny of the wicked or
+the thoughtless; and worse than all to bear up
+against—the doubts and suspicions of the good.
+She was destitute of mental resources—in delicate
+health—morbidly sensitive, and she sank—sank—under
+the accumulating miseries of her position—and
+died—in the twenty-second year of
+her age, and in the fourth of her wretched
+marriage.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>I was about to cite another case—a <em>second</em>
+case—when the memory of a third; a fourth; a
+fifth; a <em>dozen</em> aggravated instances of desertion,
+presented themselves to my mind, and pressed
+upon me, and, reader, I cannot trouble you with
+the whole of them. The evils of <em>misalliance</em>
+are irremediable, at least by foreign interference;
+and the miseries of desertion are well nigh
+incurable, or, “the cure is worse than the disease.”
+Let us look at the <em>causes</em> and the means
+of <em>prevention</em>, of unhappy marriages. Yet, if
+you read only for the story, just skip the whole
+of this chapter, and commence at the <em>next</em>, which
+opens the drama.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>To go back to the beginning—a primary cause
+of unhappy marriage is a <em>defective moral and
+physical education</em>. In our country intellectual
+education is on a par with that of other enlightened
+nations of the earth—not so moral
+and physical education. Prudence, fortitude,
+truth, reverence, and fidelity, are not inculcated
+here as they should be. Industry, activity, and
+enterprise are our national good points of character,
+and these are impressed upon children by
+example, rather than by admonition; and our
+virtues, generosity, hospitality, courage, and
+patriotism, are the virtues of constitution and of
+circumstance, rather than of education.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>We fail to impress the duty of <span class='fss'>PRUDENCE</span> upon
+our children, and hence rash and culpable mercantile
+speculation, ending in insolvency—and
+hence hasty, inconsiderate marriages, ending in
+bankruptcy of heart, home, and happiness. We
+fail to impress the duty of <span class='fss'>FIDELITY</span> upon our
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_6'>6</span>children, and hence irregularity and unfaithfulness
+in business, embezzlement of funds, &#38;c.,
+and hence broken marriage faith and deserted
+families.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>We fail to inculcate the duty of <span class='fss'>FORTITUDE</span>,
+and hence, when obligations, professional or
+matrimonial, become painful, they are too often
+abandoned.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>But it is <span class='fss'>PHYSICAL EDUCATION</span>, in its relation to
+the happiness of married life, that I wish to
+discuss. We are still more thoughtlessly neglectful,
+and I was about to say, <em>fatally</em> neglectful
+of physical, than of moral education. <em>Fatally</em>,
+because no moral education can be completely
+successful, unless assisted and supported by a good
+physical training.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>An instance—preach patience for ever, yet a
+dyspeptic <em>will</em> be ill-tempered.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Another—preach industry for ever, yet the
+weak and languid <em>will</em> be lazy and idle.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>A third—inculcate the necessity of courage,
+presence of mind, by eloquent precept, and by the
+example of all the heroes and heroines of history,
+yet the nervous <em>will</em> start if a door claps.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>One might go on <em>ad infinitum</em>.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>A defective physical education is one of the
+primary causes of unhappiness in the marriage
+relation. A girl cannot be a useful or a happy
+wife, and she cannot make her husband and her
+children happy, or even comfortable, unless she
+be a healthy woman. In Great Britain, a girl
+in delicate health never expects to be married,
+and her friends never desire it for her. American
+girls are proverbially delicate in organization,
+and frail in health, and their mothers were
+delicate before them, and their children will be
+still more delicate after them, unless there is a
+great reform in physical cultivation. Such a
+reform is happily beginning in the North. It
+is yet unthought of here, and in the West and
+South. Daily exercise by walking, skipping
+rope, calisthenics, horseback riding, which bring
+all the limbs and muscles into play; daily
+bathing in cold water on first rising in the
+morning; fresh air, simple, plain food, the disuse
+of coffee and tea, comfortable clothing, the
+disuse of tight ligatures, corsets, tight-waisted
+dresses, tight shoes, &#38;c., are the best features of
+this excellent system of physical training. I
+believe that a young person with a good constitution
+to commence with, faithfully following
+these means for the preservation of health, with
+the blessing of God, will not fade or break until
+she is fifty, nor die until she is an hundred years
+old. I believe that youth, health, beauty,
+strength, and life can be greatly prolonged beyond
+their present average, and that we were all
+intended to live twice or three times as long as
+with our sad mal-treatment we do live.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>American children (with the exception of a
+very few, whose parents know and practise
+better) grow up drinking hot tea and coffee,
+eating hot meats and rich gravies and pastries,
+never bathing, taking little exercise, confined in
+crowded school-rooms or close house-rooms,
+and become narrow-shouldered, hollow-cheeked,
+pale, sickly, nervous, and fretful; they marry
+early companions as pale, sickly, nervous, and
+fretful as themselves, and have children <em>twice</em> as
+pale, sickly, nervous, and fretful as their parents,
+and discord and other domestic miseries are
+such inevitable results that we <em>must</em> pity, and
+can scarcely blame the victims. They cry out
+in their agony for separation, divorce, for reform
+in social laws, when the truth is, no reform
+would cure their evils without a reform in their
+personal habits; such a reform as would give
+health, consequently good humor, and lastly,
+happiness.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Few people consider how much our <em>moral</em> as
+well as our <em>physical</em> health depends upon exercise,
+cleanliness, and temperance. How much
+our happiness depends upon a free circulation,
+unobstructed perspiration, and a good digestion.
+How much domestic discomfort is caused by the
+querulousness of ill health. Many a man of
+weak and unsettled principles is driven to dissipation
+and vice, and it may be to crime, by the
+discomforts of his home, of his sickly and
+nervous wife, fretful and troublesome children.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Another prominent cause of unhappy marriages,
+is the too unguarded and unrestrained
+association between young persons of opposite
+sexes in the same rank of society. If the dress
+and address of a young man are passable, if his
+conduct is unimpeachable, and his <em>prospects fair</em>,
+however otherwise unknown and untried, he
+may be admitted at once to the intimacy of a
+young lady, and after a brief courtship, <em>too</em> brief
+to give either a knowledge of their own or each
+other’s hearts, take the last irrevocable step—<em>marriage</em>.
+And this youth of fair manners, fair
+appearance, and fair conduct, may turn out to
+be, if not positively depraved, yet weak, unstable,
+untried, possessing the <em>best reputation</em>, based
+upon the morality of externals, rather than the
+tested, sound integrity of heart; with the most
+<em>defective character</em>, totally unfit to guide himself,
+still less another, through the shoals and
+quicksands of life.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>In the old times of chivalry, a knight must
+have proved his prowess before he could successfully
+aspire to the hand of his lady love.
+The days of knight-errantry are long past, but
+in the age of man, or of the world, the days of
+moral warfare are never over; never over with
+the world while it exists; never over with man
+until death; and I would have some better proof
+of moral force in an untried young man, than a
+few weeks of acquaintance, popularity, and mere
+amiability of manners would give, before I could
+trust the temporal and eternal welfare of my
+daughter to his keeping. When a young girl’s
+heart is lost and won, it is too late for these
+prudential considerations; in this case, as in
+every other, the old proverb holds good—<i><span lang="it"><a id='t6'></a>Fidarsi
+è bene, e non fidarse e meglio</span></i>. The
+conversational acquaintanceship should be prevented
+from maturing into the dangerous intimacy.
+Yet do not misunderstand me; I would not
+have you pain or repulse a young heart by the
+coldness of suspicion. I would not have you
+shut yourselves up in a dark distrust, and close
+your doors, and guard your girls with Eastern
+jealousy; far from it, one need not run upon
+Scylla in avoiding Charybdis. “Moderation is
+the golden thread that holds together the bead-roll
+of the virtues.” I would have you take the
+middle course—“the golden mean” between jealous
+surveillance and dangerous neglect. In all
+other civilized and enlightened society in the
+world, young ladies are carefully guarded and
+guided, chaperoned through the mazes of life.
+In countries of the Eastern continent this system
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_7'>7</span>of surveillance is excessive; here, it is reprehensibly
+deficient; in England it is perfect. I
+confess I would have our manners resemble the
+English in <em>this</em> respect.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Still another primary cause (I speak only of
+<em>primary causes</em> here, deeming discord, tyranny,
+drunkenness, infidelity, and desertion so many
+<em>effects</em>), still another primary cause of unhappiness
+in the marriage state, is that marriage is
+contracted too early in life. American girls are
+proverbially married too young; at an age at
+which even a hearty robust Englishwoman
+would scarcely be permitted to enter upon the
+responsibilities of marriage. How much more
+improper then must it be for an American girl,
+with her national extreme delicacy of organization,
+to take upon herself the heavy burdens and
+onerous duties of matrimony, before her feeble
+constitution is mature, or her frail strength confirmed.
+But our girls, with all these natural
+disadvantages, are married early, and hence the
+early (<em>proverbially</em> again) wasting of health and
+life; the failing of beauty, decline of grace, and
+loss of attractions in the women; and hence the
+vexatious, nervous irritability so common in
+young mothers, so destructive to domestic
+harmony and happiness. How can it be otherwise
+with the continued tax of a young and
+increasing family upon the immature strength of
+the youthful wife and mother? Our girls are
+extremely fragile at best, and will ever be so,
+aye and will grow more so, unless a better
+system of physical education is generally adopted.
+When these delicate girls prematurely assume
+the cares and burdens of a family, they break
+down under it, become thin, pale, sickly, nervous,
+and fretful; no longer attractive, almost repulsive;
+and the husband, father, if his disposition
+be benevolent and protective, as is the nature of
+most American men, suffers martyrdom, devotes
+himself a living sacrifice to his sickly wife and
+large family. I know hundreds of such devoted
+men, all unconscious of their self-devotion,
+passing their lives in dull counting-houses, dark
+stores, dingy offices, dirty work-shops, or
+crowded school-rooms, so cheerfully! to provide
+a comfortable or a luxurious home where
+their wives and children ever live, but where
+they only come to snatch a hasty meal, or late
+at night to sleep. This, I think, is what Dr.
+Dewey calls “The Religion of Toil.” But if
+on the other hand this husband of the sickly
+wife, this father of the peevish children, this
+victim of early marriage and other abuses,
+happens to be selfish and unprincipled, he becomes,
+more or less, tyrant or reprobate, or he
+sometimes quietly <em>leaves</em>, goes to the West or
+South, to sea, or to parts unknown, and is never
+heard of again. If he be licentious as well as
+selfish, his wandering fancies fix upon some
+younger, fresher, fairer, or some <em>new</em> form; then
+comes the thought of the possibility, the probability,
+the almost certainty, if he pursues it, of getting
+a legal enfranchisement from his matrimonial
+bonds. And this is naturally suggested by the
+facility with which divorces are granted; true,
+he cannot legally repudiate his wife while she
+remains faithful, but he <em>can</em> oblige <em>her</em> to release
+him, or break her neck, or her heart, or desert
+and starve her into compliance with his measures;
+or he can wrest her children from her,
+and make their restoration to her bosom the
+price of his release. I am not exaggerating,
+reader; if you live in a city, and will look about
+you, you will find that I speak truly. But to
+conclude, I reiterate, and insist upon this point,
+that the fundamental causes of unhappiness in
+married life, are a defective moral and <em>physical</em>
+education—and a premature contraction of the
+matrimonial engagement.</p>
+
+<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_9'>9</span></div>
+<div class='chapter ph1'>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c005'>
+    <div>THE DESERTED WIFE.</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+</div>
+
+<div>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER I.<br> <span class='c009'>THE OLD MANSION HOUSE.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>All day within the dreary house,</div>
+      <div class='line'>The doors upon their hinges creak;</div>
+      <div class='line'>The blue fly sings in the pane—the mouse</div>
+      <div class='line'>Behind the mouldering wainscot creeps,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Or from the crevice peers about.</div>
+      <div class='line in32'><span class='sc'>Tennyson.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c004'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>The wild wind sweeps across the old damp floors,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>And makes a weary and a wailing moan,</div>
+      <div class='line'>All night you hear the clap of broken doors,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>That on their rusty hinges grate and groan;</div>
+      <div class='line'>And then old voices calling from behind</div>
+      <div class='line'>The worn and wormy wainscot flapping in the wind.</div>
+      <div class='line in38'><span class='sc'>Miller.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>The character of the first settlers of Maryland
+and Virginia is known to have been very different
+from that of the Pilgrim Fathers—as opposite
+as the idle, gay, and dissolute cavalier to the
+stern, laborious, and self-denying Puritan. Their
+purpose in seeking the shores of the Western
+World was also widely different from that of the
+first settlers of New England—the object of the
+latter being spiritual liberty; the end of the
+former, material wealth. And their history since
+the first settlement of the country has been as
+broadly diverse. The children of the Pilgrim
+Fathers have reached the highest seats in the
+temples of Fame and Fortune—the descendants
+of the first aristocratic settlers of Maryland and
+Virginia have seen themselves outstripped in the
+path of success and honor by the children of the
+very menials of their father’s house. This is
+emphatically the case in Maryland. Among the
+friends and partizans of Lord Baltimore, who
+sought with him an Eldorado among the rolling
+hills and lovely vales, and beside the broad and
+beautiful rivers of Maryland, came many younger
+sons of the decayed old English nobility and
+gentry, who thought out of the wealth of the
+New World to found a name and a family here,
+that should rival, in power and splendor, the
+house from which they sprang. They seemed
+to overlook the fact that this coveted wealth
+was as yet unreclaimed from the wilderness—that
+nothing but energy, labor, and perseverance
+could receive and appropriate it; and even if at
+first they had observed this, it would have
+availed them little, for unlike the Pilgrim
+Fathers, they were deplorably destitute of these
+natural and necessary qualifications for success
+in a new and unsubdued world.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>With all their old ancestral pride, they also
+brought to these shores those habits of idleness,
+dissipation, and reckless expenditure which had
+been so destructive to their fortunes in the old
+country. Many succeeded in securing from the
+wilderness large estates, and upon them they
+erected handsome edifices,—the bricks, glass, and
+other materials for which were mostly imported
+from England to Baltimore, and brought down
+the Potomac or Patuxent rivers to the site
+selected for building (so little available then to
+these settlers were the fine resources of the
+country). Some of these old mansion houses
+are yet standing,<a id='r1'></a><a href='#f1' class='c012'><sup>[1]</sup></a> but like the families that own
+them, much decayed, and remaining merely as
+memorials of past grandeur. The descendants
+of these first settlers of Maryland and Virginia
+are the proudest, and <em>some</em> of them, alas! the
+poorest of the citizens of these States. These
+people are <i><span lang="la">sui generis</span></i>—unlike any other people
+I ever saw or read of. Each planter on his own
+estate, great or small, productive or barren, is
+prouder, and more thoroughly convinced of his
+own immense personal importance, than any
+throned, crowned, and sceptred monarch in
+Christendom or Heatheness. With all this, they
+are brave, generous, gallant, and hospitable, even
+to extravagance. It has been entered as a complaint
+against the older counties of Maryland
+and Virginia, that the taverns are wretched, and
+how can it be helped? Tavern-keeping is a
+poor business there, because the doors of every
+planter’s house fly open to receive the traveller
+who passes near his gates—and a welcome is
+extended to him with the cheerful, genial warmth
+of a country gentleman to whom the exercise of
+hospitality is a delight as well as a duty. It is
+a very common thing to see a perfect stranger
+ride up to the gate of a Maryland or Virginia
+planter’s farm yard, with the purpose of remaining
+all night—or a week, if his convenience
+requires it—and he is sure of a welcome, as long
+as he pleases to stay—for him the “fatted calf”
+is killed, for him the butt of cordial broached.</p>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f1'>
+<p class='c008'><a href='#r1'>1</a>. We have one in Washington. It is an old ruin—some
+hundred years older than the city—and stands
+near the junction of the Potomac and Anacostia. It is
+haunted, of course.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c008'>Northern and Western men who occasionally
+happen to travel through the lower counties of
+these States, put up at poor taverns, and go
+away to abuse the half savage state of society
+there. They should rather present themselves
+at some planter’s house, where they would be
+received with the best, as a matter of course, and
+invited, if it were spring, to a fish feast upon the
+banks of the nearest river, or, if it were autumn,
+to a deer hunt. Let idlers who are <em>ennuyés</em> to
+death with the common-places of their daily life,
+just take a country road tour through the lower
+counties of Maryland and Virginia, and they will
+find themselves transported to the associations of
+two centuries ago, among the oldest-fashioned
+people, with the oldest-fashioned houses, furniture,
+and manners in the world.</p>
+
+<hr class='c013'>
+
+<p class='c008'>Down on the western shore of Maryland is a
+heath containing about five hundred acres—upon
+which stands an old mansion-house, in ruins,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_10'>10</span>both of which I wish to describe. This heath is
+bounded on the North by the river P., on the
+South by Sachem’s Creek, on the West by a
+deep, dense forest, and on the East by the
+Chesapeake Bay. The heath rises gradually
+from the bay, and is relieved by clumps of pine
+and cedar trees, standing between the swells of
+ground as it rolls back from the water towards
+the forest, while towards the North the ground
+rises and sharpens into a steep promontory,
+sticking out between the junction of the river
+with the bay. Crowning the summit of this
+promontory, is a large, square, red brick old
+mansion-house. Around this house wave tall,
+gloomy old Lombardy poplars—like sable
+plumes around a hearse. Around the shores of
+the promontory runs a half-ruined low brick
+wall, inclosing the garden attached to the mansion.
+This garden is grown up with weeds and
+thistles. This estate was known by the name
+of The Heath, or Heath Hall, and had continued
+in the possession of the Churchill family
+since the first settlement of Maryland.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>On the opposite point of the mouth of the
+river was the struggling little village of Churchill
+Point,—a great colonial seaport town, withered
+in the germ—now only an occasional depot for
+tobacco raised in the immediate neighborhood,
+and shipped thence to Baltimore by the little
+packets that traded up and down the river, and
+sometimes stopped there to take in freight. A
+large old barn of a storehouse, where produce
+was left till carried away—a large, old, white-framed
+tavern, half-furnished, where passengers
+went to meet the packets, a blacksmith’s shop, a
+country merchant’s store, a post-office, kept by
+the widow of the late post-master, a few cottages,
+tenanted by wool, cotton, and flax dyers, by
+domestic counterpane and carpet weavers, and
+other country laborers, made up the staple of
+the village. About a quarter of a mile back
+from the village, in a clearing in the forest, stood
+the Episcopal Church of the Crucifixion. Divine
+service was performed here only once a fortnight,
+as the pastor had two parishes under his
+charge.<a id='r2'></a><a href='#f2' class='c012'><sup>[2]</sup></a></p>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f2'>
+<p class='c008'><a href='#r2'>2</a>. This is frequently the case, even at this day, in
+remote counties of Maryland.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c008'>To return to Churchill Hall. This estate
+had once been highly valuable, both as to size
+and productiveness. Running over its natural
+boundaries, it extended beyond the river and
+creek, and for miles into the forest behind—and
+for fertility it was called the garden spot of
+Maryland. But many acres had passed from
+the possession of the family, and what was left
+was worn out by that wretched system of agriculture
+which has ruined the once highly productive
+lands of Maryland. I mean the continual
+drain upon the resources of the soil, without
+ever giving it rest or food; sowing a field
+years at a stretch, without giving it the repose
+of a single season, or the nutriment of a single
+bushel of manure. All that was left of the once
+beautiful farm was the sterile heath and ruined
+Hall I have described, when the estate, by the
+death of his father, passed into the possession of
+Ignatius, the last heir of the Churchills, who,
+and his two sisters, Sophie and Rosalie, were
+the only remaining members of the family. His
+poverty and his incumbrances did not prevent
+him from loving and marrying a beautiful girl in
+his neighborhood, Agatha Gormon, who left a
+luxurious home to share his poverty in the
+ruined Hall at the Heath; nor could his love
+save her from death, when, in the second year
+of her marriage, she passed away, leaving an infant
+daughter of a day old. He had loved her
+with an exclusive, absorbing passion, and from
+the hour of her sudden death he pined away, and
+in less than a year thereafter was laid in her grave—opened
+to receive him. The orphan heiress
+of a ruin and a desert, the infant Agatha—or,
+as from her wild, dark beauty, she was nicknamed,
+<em>Hagar</em>—was left in charge of his sisters.
+These ladies, though poor, were quite comfortable.
+The lower rooms of the old house were
+kept in tolerable order. Their table was supplied
+by the garden, the dairy, and the river,
+which afforded excellent fish, crabs, and oysters—while
+their pocket money was supplied by the
+hire of several negroes owned by them. The
+girls were beautiful—and, poor as they were, it
+was thought not impossible that they might marry
+well. The elder sister, Rosalie, was a merry,
+plump, golden-haired, blue-eyed lassie, with a
+complexion that the country beaux compared to
+strawberries and cream—she was the first to fulfil
+the happy auguries drawn for her. She was
+seen by a young merchant of Baltimore, who
+happened to have business at Churchill’s Point,
+and after rather a short courtship, she was
+wedded and carried off to the city home of her
+husband. Sophie Churchill, now bereaved and
+alone at seventeen, devoted herself with all the
+enthusiasm of her ardent, loving nature, to the
+care and education of her infant niece, and little
+Hagar grew passionately fond of her aunt. Her
+sole domestic was an old woman, a pure Guinea
+negress, who, seventy years before, in her childhood,
+had been torn from her native coast,
+brought to this country, and sold. She had
+served the Churchill family for three generations,
+and was nearly eighty years old—yet with the
+strong tenacity of life distinguishing the native
+African, she still kept up and at work, seemingly
+in all her mid-life vigor. Now, reader, I am
+telling you no invented story—so do you not
+think that there was something slightly romantic
+about the position of this young girl, left with
+the charge of an infant, living in an old ruin, on
+a bleak shore, and having no other companion
+or attendant but the old Guinea negress? <em>Real
+life</em> is full of the picturesque and the romantic.
+I have never yet needed to cull flowers from the
+fields of imagination. The gardens of memory
+and tradition will furnish materials for a life of
+romance writing.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER II.<br> <span class='c009'>THE MINISTER.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line in24'>“——Gentleness</div>
+      <div class='line'>And a strange strength, a calm o’errulling strength,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Are mixed within him so that neither take</div>
+      <div class='line'>Possession from the other—neither rise</div>
+      <div class='line'>In mastery or passion—but both grow</div>
+      <div class='line'>Harmoniously together.”</div>
+      <div class='line in32'><span class='sc'>W. G. Simms.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>Sophie Churchill was a pretty girl of round
+<i><span lang="fr">petite</span></i> form, of clear pale olive complexion, large,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_11'>11</span>soft brown eyes, and dark chestnut hair. Had
+her position been different she would have been
+much admired and courted—as it was she was
+neglected and even slandered—yes, slandered—after
+the death of her brother, and the marriage
+of her only sister, she had, in pure ignorance of
+the world, kept up exactly the same manner of
+life as before. Instead of engaging some respectable
+elderly female as housekeeper and companion
+(which indeed her limited means did not allow),
+she preferred remaining alone, and continued to
+receive the visits not only of ladies, which of
+course was in perfect propriety, but of <em>gentlemen</em>—that
+is to say, of her own and her father’s
+familiar friends—the sons and brothers of their
+near neighbors, who testified their remembrance
+of the dead, and their respect for the living, by
+sometimes calling to see Sophie and her little
+charge, and by sometimes bringing her a brace
+of wild fowl, a pair of pigeons, or some other
+such game from their morning sport upon the
+moor; until at last they found that their well meant
+kindness to the young and pretty orphan
+was subjecting her to the invidious remarks of
+all the thoughtless or the malicious gossips of
+the neighborhood. Then their occasional visits
+were discontinued, and the poor girl was left
+almost entirely alone, especially as the advancing
+winter and the increasing severity of the
+weather precluded the visits of <em>ladies</em> to that desolate
+heath. And desolate indeed it was upon
+this first winter that Sophie passed alone at the
+Hall.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>As early as the first of December the river
+was frozen over. With the thoughtlessness of a
+young girl upon whom the cares of housekeeping
+were exclusively and suddenly thrown, she
+had neglected to provide for the exigencies of
+the severe winters of that particular locality.
+She had even from delicacy omitted to send for
+the wages of the few negroes out on hire—and
+the first of December, when the ground was two
+feet deep in snow, and the river was a solid block
+of ice, and even the bay near the shore was
+crusted over, found Sophie Churchill destitute of
+the common necessaries of life. To augment
+the evils of her position, the old negress—who
+in health was in herself a host—was laid up
+with the rheumatism. At this time Sophie was
+so poor that her little charge (now three years
+old) possessed but one suit of clothes; and every
+night, after putting the little one to bed, would
+Sophie go, up to her knees in snow, away off to
+the forest, a quarter of a mile distant, to collect
+brush, to supply the fire the next day—her little
+arms and moderate strength serving to bring so
+small a quantity at a time that she would have
+to make this trip half-a-dozen times a night before
+a sufficient quantity was collected. Then
+she would have to take the bucket and go
+to a dell in the same forest to bring water, and
+after coming home would take the sleeping
+Hagar’s only suit of clothes and wash and iron
+them for the next day, solaced while at her
+work by the mutterings of the old negress, who,
+with the irritability of sickness, would growl
+from her lair—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, ho! kin tote water, kin you—thought
+how you was to <em>deleky</em> an’ <em>saft</em> (<em>delicate and
+soft</em>) to tote water from de spring,” &#38;c., &#38;c.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie never paid the slightest attention to
+this ill-temper; she seemed not to hear it. It
+was remarkable that Sophie never once in the
+whole course of her life was heard to utter a
+complaint, lay a charge, or make a reproach;
+and that she was perfectly unconscious of the
+moral beauty of her own patience. She merely
+acted out her own nature without thinking
+about it.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie had one faithful friend in the aged
+pastor of the parish—but he, with his multifarious
+duties, could seldom find time to visit her. The
+Rev. Senex May, with his young wife and only
+child, lived in a pretty cottage on the other side
+of the river, in a grove half way between the
+village and the forest. His youthful wife,
+Emily Wilde, had been an orphan, a governess
+from New England, living in the family of a
+wealthy planter in the neighborhood. Weary
+of her friendless, homeless, and unsettled life,
+she had given her hand where her deepest
+reverence had long been bestowed, and was very
+happy as “the old man’s darling.” One child,
+a boy, had blessed this singular union.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Mr. May and Emily did not surmise the deep
+destitution into which Sophie Churchill had
+fallen. The deep snow and severe cold had
+prevented them for several weeks from crossing
+the river to see her.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>At last the weather moderated, the snow
+melted, the ice-bound river was freed, a mild
+dry wind from the South sprang up and dried
+the ground, the roads became passable, and the
+long confined and dreadfully wearied country
+neighbors geared up their vehicles of various
+sorts, from the ox-cart to the coach and pair,
+and from the ass’s colt to the high bred courser,
+and went “a-visiting.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>It was about ten o’clock in the morning of a
+beautiful winter’s day, that Sophie caught a
+glimpse through the window of the old parson
+on his old horse, with Emily seated on a pillion
+behind him, with her arms around his waist.
+Sophie sprang to meet and greet them—and—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I knew you’d come! I <em>knew</em> you would,”
+she said, as she held up her hands to assist
+Emily, who sprang from the pillion into her
+arms. And she burst into tears as she received
+her.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Poor girl! she had been so lonesome, for so
+long.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>After greeting Mr. May, she drew Emily’s
+arm within her own and led the way to the
+house, while the old parson ambled leisurely up
+to the horse-block, alighted, and followed them.
+When they were seated in the parlor, and Emily
+had taken Hagar upon her lap and filled her
+apron with the home-made cakes she had
+brought, Mr. May turned to Sophie, and
+stroking her brown hair, inquired—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“How has my little partridge contrived to
+live through this long, hard winter?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie Churchill was thoroughly ingenuous,
+and in reply she gave a simple narrative of her
+life since the setting in of the winter.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>It was beautiful to observe, that during her
+narrative she had uttered no one word of reflection
+or reproach against the friends and neighbors
+who had so cruelly neglected her. She
+merely told without complaint, the simple story
+of her sufferings as a duty, in answer to her
+venerated pastor’s question. He heard with
+emotion—and—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_12'>12</span>“Poor ‘stricken deer’—poor shorn lamb—aye!
+shorn to the very ‘quick,’” he said.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>At the conclusion of her story—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“The Lord loveth whom He chasteneth, and
+scourgeth every child whom he receiveth,” he
+said, reverently. And then he arose and walked
+soberly and thoughtfully up and down the floor
+with his hands clasped behind his back.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He was a round, stout old gentleman, wore
+short breeches and silk stockings, and had his
+grey hair parted over his venerable brow,
+smoothed back and plaited in a queue behind; so
+you may readily fancy him as he paced up and
+down the floor with his hands clasped behind
+him and his head bowed upon his chest, while he
+seemed to be revolving some plan.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>While he walked, Emily sat and played with
+Hagar on her lap; at last turning to Miss
+Churchill she said,—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Do you know, Sophie, that I am not contented
+at all—that I am very <em>dis</em>contented? I
+want a little girl!—I want a little girl <em>so bad</em>!
+I want one to dress, and to fix, and to play
+with. My boy is eight years old, and far too
+big to be dressed in trimmed clothes—too much
+of a man, in his own and his father’s opinion, to
+wear anything but a plain broadcloth jacket
+and trousers. And I do <em>so</em> love to make and
+trim children’s clothes. I never go into a dry
+goods store and see remnants of pretty calico or
+merino, but I think what sweet frocks for a
+little girl they would make. Last fall I bought
+some pretty remnants of crimson merino and
+orange-colored bombazine, and a bunch of narrow
+black worsted braid to trim with, just for a
+notion—don’t laugh at me, Sophie; and so this
+winter, while confined to the house by the
+dreadful weather, I passed some of the dreary
+evenings pleasantly in making and trimming
+some little dresses, and as I had no little girl to
+wear them I made them to fit <em>your</em> little girl,
+Sophie. Here they are—try one of them on
+her—<em>please</em> try one of them on her—I want to
+see how they look <em>so much</em>!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>And opening her travelling satchel she produced
+with glee four beautiful little dresses suitable
+for winter—a crimson, and a green merino,
+and a blue, and an orange bombazine.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And that ain’t all,” said she, diving into her
+satchel; “I have made half-a-dozen nice little
+petticoats, and half-a-dozen pair of pantalets,
+and I have trimmed them with thread edging,
+and, to complete the wardrobe, I bought four
+pairs of little shoes to match in colors each of
+the four dresses; and I have half finished at
+home a little black velvet pelisse and a little
+black plush hat, into which I intend to stick a
+small white plume. Won’t our little girl be
+nice, Sophie?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Emily’s black eyes were dancing as she dashed
+back the black ringlets that kept falling over
+her face, while she stooped over the basket and
+looked up for a reply.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>It was just Sophie Churchill’s character to receive
+this favor with all the simple, artless frankness
+with which it was offered. She expressed
+no surprise—spoke no thanks; she only passed
+her hand around Emily’s neck, turned her face
+around to meet her own, bent forward, and
+kissed her lips.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“There! Now, Sophie, let us go into your
+chamber and dress her,” said Emily, setting Hagar
+off her lap, and beginning to replace the
+articles in the satchel, and rising to go upstairs.
+But her husband now approached her, and laying
+his hand affectionately on the top of her
+head, pressed her down into her seat, and took
+the chair by her side, saying,—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Emily, how would you like to have your
+friend Miss Churchill always with you?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! I should be delighted—enchanted!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Of course—so I supposed, my dear. Come
+here, Sophie, my child!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie was at the side-board, taking out some
+apples. She replaced them, however, and went
+up to her pastor.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Sophie,” said the old man, “I have to ask
+your forgiveness, child. I have sadly neglected
+my duty as your pastor. I should have seen
+that you were comfortably provided for. Do
+you forgive me, child?” said he, passing his
+arm around her waist, and drawing her up to
+him.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie looked at her pastor with embarrassed
+surprise, and blushed up to her eyes. It seemed
+to her such an inversion of all order for her venerated
+pastor to ask <em>her</em> forgiveness. She only
+raised his hand to her lips in silent reverence,
+then stood before him waiting his further communication.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He passed his hand once or twice across his
+brow, and looked at Emily with imploring embarrassment;
+but Emily could not or would not
+come to his assistance, when he said,—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Sophie Churchill, my dear, it is neither
+proper for you to live in this ruined old house in
+this sterile heath, nor is it christian in me to
+permit it. And now you say that people have
+been speaking ill of you—and you tell me this,
+without excitement, as though it were the most
+natural thing in the world, and you tell me that
+in consequence you are quite neglected, without
+resentment, as though it were the justest fate
+on earth. This must not go on so—Sophie, will
+you come and live with us? I do not ask you
+in any way to become dependent upon me, for,
+alas! I know too well the unconquerable pride
+of the Churchills of Heath Hall!” and he smiled
+with a half reproving, half caressing air. “This
+property well-managed is quite enough to support
+you and your little charge very handsomely.
+But <em>you</em> cannot manage it! Now, Miss
+Churchill, what I wish is, to unite the little
+families of Heath Hall and Grove Cottage. You
+and Hagar shall come and live with us at Grove
+Cottage nine months in the year. I will repair
+and re-furnish a part of this old Hall, and we
+will all come down here for sea-bathing during
+the three summer months. I will also beg the
+privilege of catching fish, crabs, and oysters from
+your fishing landing here—and of shooting wild
+fowl on your moor. I will take upon myself
+the collection of all your out-standing debts,
+paying them into your own hands. Come, Miss
+Churchill! what say you to this plan of uniting
+our families? Though just now, for the first
+time, proposed to Emily—the project is very near
+to her heart. She needs a companion near her
+own age and of her own sex, and will be
+delighted to have you with her, especially as she
+can then have a ‘little girl to dress and fix,’”
+said he smiling—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! did <em>you</em> hear that?” laughed Emily.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, my darling! I heard <em>that</em>. Well,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_13'>13</span>Sophie,” he said, turning anxiously to Miss
+Churchill.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He need not have beat about the subject so
+long, as fearing difficulty with Miss Churchill.
+Sophie was too natural, too simple, frank, and
+entirely unworldly to feel any doubts, fears, or
+scruples upon the subject. Her pastor proposed
+the plan—and that fact carried with it a weight
+of authority that would have constrained her
+acceptance of a much less agreeable proposition—for
+in her heart she liked this project—the only
+drawback being her dislike to leave as her home,
+the Hall of her own and her fathers’ nativity.
+She expressed her glad acquiescence in the plan—and
+Emily sealed the contract with a kiss on
+her brow. “Now, Emily, my darling, we will
+hurry home—the sooner that we may begin to
+fit up the rooms for Miss Churchill. This is
+Monday—by Saturday, Miss Churchill, we shall
+be ready for you—and on Saturday morning
+Emily shall drive over and fetch you and Hagar,
+so that we may all go to church together on
+Sunday. As for this old hall, it can be shut up
+for the present and left in charge of old Cumbo,
+who, Guinea nigger like, is never half so happy
+as when left entirely alone. You will like our
+little lad, as well as Emily loves your little girl,
+Miss Churchill—you could not help it if you
+were to try, my dear—and you and Emily and
+the children will be very happy—if I can make
+you so—for I love to see happy faces about me.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The old man smiled gravely and sweetly as
+he said this, and arose to take leave.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Mind, dear Sophie,” said Emily, “<em>we</em> shall be
+ready—do <em>you</em> be ready also—for I will be sure
+to be at your door early on Saturday morning.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“If it be the will of God,” said the pastor.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! certainly, I always <em>mean that</em>,” said
+Emily.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Always <em>say</em> it then, my dear—somehow or
+other my heart sank within me as I heard you
+promise so confidently to be here on Saturday
+morning. Alas! who can tell? Some of us
+may be in our graves Saturday morning!” A
+shadow had fallen on his brow. The two young
+women felt serious. He recovered himself with an
+effort, saying, “I must not darken young hearts
+with my gloom! Come! smile, Emily. Bid
+your friend good-by—and know that every event
+is ordered by infinite wisdom and love.” And
+they took leave and rode away.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER III.<br> <span class='c009'>DEATH.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“Why should death be linked with fear?</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>A single breath—a low drawn sigh,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Can break the ties that bind us here,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>And waft the spirit to the sky.”</div>
+      <div class='line in32'><span class='sc'>Mrs. Welby.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>The pastor’s home was a pretty little white
+cottage, with green blinds, nestled among the
+trees from which it took its name. A piazza ran
+all around it. In summer, vines were trained to
+run above the window of the cottage and around
+the post of the piazza—and whole parterres of
+white lilies (Emily’s favorite flower) filled the
+air with fragrance. Just at this season the scene
+was rather bleak. The surrounding trees and
+overhanging vines but added by the nakedness
+of their branches to the dreariness of the aspect.
+The cottage was of one story—consisting of a
+middle building with two wings. In the middle
+part, first was an entry parallel with the front of
+the house. At each end of this entry was a
+door leading into the little wings, each of which
+contained a bed-chamber. These chambers had
+each a large bow window fronting on the piazza.
+The left hand room was occupied by the pastor
+and his wife, and the right hand one was fitted
+up for the reception of Sophie Churchill and her
+little charge. Behind each of these chambers
+was a little closet—that communicating with
+Emily’s room was occupied by her son; that
+opening from the room prepared for Sophie, was
+assigned to the use of their only domestic, a
+mulatto girl. The centre building contained,
+first in front a parlor, back of that a dining-room,
+then a kitchen. Behind the house was a
+vegetable garden, and a poultry yard—and still
+further behind an orchard of various fruits. In
+front of the cottage was a flower yard, and a
+grape walk extended from the front of the piazza
+quite down to the gate. Bee-hives were standing
+under the locust trees that were scattered
+over the lawn.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Emily was a great housekeeper—and her
+parlor was a model of comfort. There were no
+framed pictures. The walls were covered with
+a landscape paper (<em>engraved</em>, not colored)
+representing the neighborhood of Jerusalem and
+scenes in the life of the Saviour. On the wall,
+on one side of the fire-place, was Christ blessing
+little children—on the other Christ at the marriage
+at Cana—the figures were nearly as large
+as life. Emily loved them like familiar friends—and
+this paper was a favorite with the old man
+because its grave hue, assisted by the slate-colored
+moreen curtains at the windows, and the
+slate-colored coverings of the lounges and easy
+chairs, shed a sober clerical sort of air over the
+room. The mantel-piece was of dark grey marble,
+and the very andirons, fender, &#38;c., had no glaring
+brass about them, but were made of polished
+steel. A large and well filled book-case stood
+at the end of the room opposite the fire-place—a
+bronze bust of John Huss stood upon the top of
+it. <em>That</em> was the old man’s hero. On Friday
+morning succeeding their visit to Heath Hall—this
+parlor was in its highest state of perfection—everything
+glittered with a sober polished steel
+sort of brilliancy—like a “friend’s” wit and
+humor. They were ready for Miss Churchill.
+Sophie at the Hall was preparing for her
+removal—all her small effects and Hagar’s
+slender stock of clothing were put in order and
+packed. On Friday morning they were quite
+ready. On Friday morning Mrs. May’s maid
+rode over on a side-saddle and carried a note to
+Sophie Churchill. The note was from Emily,
+of course, and ran thus—</p>
+
+<p class='c014'>“Come, my little partridge, are you ready to fly?—your
+nest in the grove is quite ready—the sweetest
+little nest you ever saw. I have put up white muslin
+curtains to your bed and windows, laid down a new
+home-made carpet on your floor, whitened your hearth,
+and hung your favorite picture of the Madonna and
+child over the chimney-piece. Kitty and I have made
+some seed cakes to-day—and Mr. May has just received
+from Baltimore Scott’s new novel of ‘Ivanhoe.’ I
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_14'>14</span>await your arrival to cut the leaves—shall we not be
+happy to-morrow? I have borrowed Mrs. Gardiner
+Green’s carryall and shall be at your door by seven in
+the morning. I design that you shall breakfast with us,
+so be ready for migration, my bird.</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-r c015'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“EMILY.”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>That night Emily retired to rest so full of
+thoughts of the morrow that she could not sleep.
+For one thing she feared that she should not
+wake early enough—her very bonnet and cloak
+were laid out ready to be put on when she
+should first get up; and then she was afraid her
+buckwheat cakes might not rise well on account
+of the cold, and <em>terribly</em> afraid lest the cloud
+that obscured the moon should bring rain the
+next morning. At last she fell asleep, and it
+seemed to her that she had but just lost herself when
+she was aroused by a soft hand laid on her face.
+She threw up her own hand, half unconsciously,
+to remove it, when she heard her husband say,
+in feeble tones, “Emily, I am dying; get up,
+child.” She started up in vague alarm, for she
+was yet but half awake, struck a light, and passing
+around to the other side of the bed, let it
+shine in his face. His features were frightfully
+drawn and haggard, as though by a recent fit of
+agonizing pain—his voice was quiet, as he
+said,—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Blow out the candle, child, and open the
+window-shutters to let the moonbeams in, and
+come and sit by me, Emily.” She was wide
+enough awake now, and trembling in every
+limb, while she gazed upon that contorted countenance,
+and marked while he spoke the frightful
+ruin an hour had made of it.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You are ill—very ill!—let me call up Kitty
+and send for a physician,” said she, setting down
+the candle, and running to the door. He recalled
+her.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“My Emily, come here—let Kitty sleep—do
+not disturb the household—send for no one, I
+insist—a college of doctors could not save me.
+My Emily, blow out the candle—it hurts me;
+there—now open the shutters so that I can see
+out into the free sky. Thank you, child. Now,
+Emily, wrap yourself in your cloak, and come
+and take this seat by my side.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Trembling with grief and terror, she did all
+that he requested, and finally, as she took the
+chair at the head of the bed, said,—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, do give me leave to send for a physician—you
+have been in a fit or in agonizing
+pain, and may be so again; <em>do</em> let me send for
+a physician.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“My child, whom would you send? Dr.
+Howe lives fourteen miles off; can you send
+Kitty at night so far?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! I could send her over to the village to
+knock up Mr. Green or some of the men, who
+will saddle a horse and go—do let me!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Emily, before a messenger could <em>go</em>, much
+less <em>return</em> with the doctor, it would be too late.
+Stay—do not leave me! I charge you do not
+leave me!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He grasped her hand convulsively, as a spasm
+beginning in his left shoulder and arm shook fearfully
+his whole person. Emily gazed, pale and
+cold as lead, and twice started up to call assistance,
+when both times the hand of the convulsed man
+tightened upon her wrist, and retained her in her
+seat. The fit at last was over, and he was
+looking into Emily’s face.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! <em>what</em> can I do for you?” she cried,
+“<em>do—do—do</em> let me try something.” She was
+too much shocked for tears.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Do <em>only</em> what I ask of you, dear child—stay
+by me. I am dying, Emily.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, no! <em>not</em> dying, but <em>ill</em>—very ill. Oh,
+<em>what</em> is the matter with you?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Now her tears gushed forth.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Control yourself, Emily—you can do it.
+<em>This</em> is my disease, <em>angina pectoris</em>. I have
+been threatened with it long—it will do its office
+to-night. One or two more such convulsions
+as that and my soul will be released—released!
+Only think of that! Free to traverse
+the boundless realms of air! Stupendous it
+seems to me—I cannot fully realize it. One
+hour convulsed and agonizing here, the next beyond
+the most distant star we see. One moment
+your pale face fades from my eyes, the
+next the divine glory of the Saviour’s countenance
+bursts upon my vision!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>A terrible convulsion now seized and shook
+his frame; he held Emily’s hand as before—the
+fit passed.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You will weep for the old man a few days,
+Emily, and only a few days. At first you will
+feel very desolate and helpless, but you will
+soon recover from that, and find an absorbing
+object in your son for a time—<em>that</em> may also
+pass, for you are young.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Shall I not awake Augustus?” asked Emily,
+through her streaming tears.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, child. Do not let him look, young as
+he is, upon the terrors of a death like this—a
+death of physical anguish. I looked over him
+as he lay in his cot to-night and blessed him in
+his sleep. That is sufficient.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The muscles of his face and hands began to
+twitch—he struggled and writhed in another
+strong spasm. When that was over, and he
+had grown quite calm, he raised his feeble
+hands, and parting the soft dark hair from her
+white forehead, he said,—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I bless you, Emily—I bless you and you
+shall be blessed—blessed in your son, blessed in
+your friends, blessed in yourself, and blessed in
+your God.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>A convulsion stronger and longer in continuance
+than any that had preceded it threatened
+his immediate dissolution. When, at last, it slowly
+and interruptedly subsided, his features settled
+into the fixity of death. He did not speak again,
+his respiration was labored and painful, and
+only when Emily attempted to move would
+he give any sign of consciousness by feebly trying
+to tighten his hold upon her hand; at last
+that hold relaxed, the respiration ceased, and the
+freed soul “migrated to the Great Secret.”
+Emily was calm and quiet now. She laid the
+venerable hands together over his bosom, composed
+the limbs, closed the eyes, and straightened
+the white coverlet of the bed. Then she resumed
+her seat and her watch until the morning
+dawned, then dressing herself, she went into the
+sleeping closet of Kitty, aroused her, told her
+what had happened, and sent her to the village
+to procure assistance. By sunrise the cottage
+was half-full of sympathizing neighbors. The
+pastor’s funeral took place on the fourth day
+after his death. The successor of the pastor
+had arrived in time to perform the funeral ceremonies,
+and after that was over remained as a
+temporary guest at the Grove. All plans of removing
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_15'>15</span>thither were for the present abandoned
+by Sophie Churchill.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER IV.<br> <span class='c009'>THE STRANGER.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“Erect, morose, determined, solemn, slow—</div>
+      <div class='line'>Who knows the man can never cease to know.”</div>
+      <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>Crabbe.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c004'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“A fearful sign stands in thy house of life—</div>
+      <div class='line'>An enemy;—a fiend lurks close behind</div>
+      <div class='line'>The radiance of thy planet—oh! be warned!”</div>
+      <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>Coleridge.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>The Rev. John Huss Withers. He had been
+recommended to the parish as his successor in
+case of his own demise by Mr. May. He had
+been a student some twenty years back with
+the old gentleman—within the last eight or ten
+years he had had charge of a congregation in
+one of the Northern cities. Very lately his
+charge had been resigned—and, in reply to a
+letter written by Mr. May, inquiring his reason
+for his resignation, he alleged the cause to be—domestic
+affliction—the <em>loss</em> of his wife. The
+old pastor wrote back a letter full of sympathy,
+and attempted consolation, and then the correspondence
+was suffered to drop. There was no
+telling how much the mere circumstance of his
+given name, “John Huss,” affected the partiality
+of the old man in his favor.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Certainly when he appeared at the grove, there
+was nothing very winning in his looks. During
+the funeral ceremonies, Mrs. May and Miss
+Churchill had scarcely observed him, absorbed
+as they were in thoughts of the dead. After the
+return from the burial ground—after Emily and
+Sophie had laid off their bonnets in Miss
+Churchill’s room, Emily said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You must stay with us at least a week or
+two, Sophie—and we must share together this
+room that I proposed for you—I will have the
+crib brought down from the loft and put by the
+side of our bed for little Hagar. One room
+<em>must</em> be given up to the use of our boarder, Mr.
+Withers, and I prefer to let him have mine, for
+its distressing associations affect my nerves
+dreadfully.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Then the new preacher is to board with you,
+Emily?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, my love, for many good, <em>very good</em>
+reasons—first, he was my husband’s friend, and
+then I am afraid to live here by myself, or I
+mean without a man about the place; and then
+the old ladies all tell me that I must receive
+him because it is so convenient to the church.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>For her life, Sophie Churchill could not have
+explained the cause of the oppression that
+settled upon her heart, or the deep sigh that
+revealed the burden on her spirits without throwing
+it off. They went into the parlor, that was
+unoccupied, but glittering with its sober,
+polished steel lustre, and took seats; Emily, in
+the slate-colored damask easy chair, and Sophie
+upon the lounge of the same grave hue. By
+nothing could you have guessed the late presence
+of so gloomy a visitor as death in that sober but
+cheerful room.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Emily, by the expressed wish of her late
+husband, wore no mourning—her dress was that
+she always wore in-doors—a soft and full white
+muslin wrapper, descending from her full bust,
+and gathered around her slender waist by a cord
+and tassel. Her soft, silky black hair was
+parted over her forehead, and hung in thick
+ringlets that scarcely reached her bosom—she
+leaned back serenely with her hands resting on
+the arms of the slate-colored chair. Sophie
+Churchill’s clear olive complexion looked almost
+fair, contrasted with her smoothly braided brown
+hair, her large, melancholy brown eyes, and her
+brown silk dress. Sophie leaned over the elbow
+of the lounge towards her friend, whose chair
+was near that end. Kitty came in to lay the
+cloth for tea, and soon a round table stood on
+the floor covered by a snow-white damask cloth,
+white china tea service, and the nice light bread
+and hard golden-hued butter, and clear honey,
+with the seed cakes of Emily’s preparation.
+The tea was placed upon the table and their
+boarder summoned from the piazza, where he
+had been promenading. He came in.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He came in, lifting his hat from his head, and
+placing it upon a side stand, slowly and gravely
+assumed the seat at the foot of the table where
+Emily and Sophie were already seated. They
+raised their eyes simultaneously to look at him,
+and at once the whole aspect of the room seemed
+changed—a funeral solemnity gathered over it.
+Sophie, attracted by one of those strange spells
+exercised by objects of terror over us, could not
+keep her large startled eyes off him—at last he
+raised his head and looked her full in the face—her
+eyes fell, and a visible shudder shook her
+frame—a just perceptible smile writhed the
+corner of his mouth as he withdrew his gaze
+from her. Sophie did not open her mouth to
+speak during the meal; Emily dispensed her
+hospitalities with her usual graceful ease. At
+the end of tea they arose, Kitty entered and
+cleared the table, and Mrs. May, making an
+apology, left the room to attend to some
+domestic matters. Sophie was now alone with
+the new preacher. She resumed her seat at the
+end of the lounge, he took the easy chair just
+vacated by Emily, and drawing it closer to the
+side of Miss Churchill, he stooped forward and
+inquired in his singularly sweet tones—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You live in this neighborhood, Miss
+Churchill?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, sir,” she said, and her eyes dropped,
+and the blood mounted to her brow, and
+receding, left it pale—again that singular smile
+curled the corner of his lip.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Far from this, Miss Churchill?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I live at Heath Hall.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Ah! and nearly quite alone, Miss Churchill,
+with only one aged female domestic and an
+infant—”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And <em>God</em>!” said Sophie, raising her eyes
+confidently to meet his; but the brilliant, basilisk,
+greenish grey eyes seemed to freeze her eyeballs,
+and she dropped their sheltering lids again—yet
+she felt the glance of those glittering, cold,
+keen eyes entering her heart, and a chill, an icy
+chill, ran through all her veins. She started up
+and sought Emily.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Emily was in the next room, the dining-room,
+where, seated in two little chairs at a little child’s
+table, covered with a white cloth, appeared the
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_16'>16</span>children, Gusty and Hagar, eating their supper
+of milk and sweetmeats. The children were
+at each end of the table, and Emily was kneeling
+at the side with an arm lightly clasped
+around each—she had just thus embraced the
+orphans, and a tear was glistening in her eye.
+She arose as Sophie entered, and said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why have you left the room, my love; it
+was so rude to Mr. Withers?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Because I don’t like to stay with him—do
+<em>you</em>? How do <em>you</em> like him, Emily?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, dear, I don’t know. I have scarcely
+had an opportunity of seeing yet—he is grave,
+grave to austerity, yet that, though it may awe
+young maidens, can scarcely be deemed a fault
+in the Pastor of the Crucifixion Parish.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! it was not that—it was not that!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What was it then, my frightened dove?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I could not tell you! You wouldn’t understand!
+<em>He has never looked at you—never
+spoken to you.</em>”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“How you do talk at random, child—we
+conversed at tea.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“He has never looked at you and never
+spoken to you!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“My dear, you are hysterical—I must give
+you some morphine.” She went to a cupboard.
+But the wild fluttering of Sophie’s startled heart
+subsided—she refused the morphine, and at last
+they returned to the parlor.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The next day was Good Friday, and of
+course there was service at the church, and the
+Rev. John Huss Withers was to preach his first
+sermon. Reader, do you happen to know what
+a great event the arrival of a new preacher is in
+a country neighborhood? Not only does the
+parish over which he is installed as minister, but
+every surrounding parish, forsake their own
+especial minister to flock to hear him.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>At an early hour two horses stood saddled at
+the gate of Grove Cottage, and the minister,
+Sophie, Emily, and her son, sallied out to mount
+them. When Sophie saw but two horses
+saddled, and knew that there were four persons
+to go to church, she looked with embarrassment
+at Emily.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You are to ride on a pillion behind Mr.
+Withers, Miss Churchill—and Gusty is to ride
+behind me.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The parson was already mounted, and before
+Sophie had time to reply, he rode up to where
+she was standing on the horse-block, stooped
+his giant arm, and lifting her lightly to the pillion,
+drew her arms around his waist and cantered
+off. Earth and sky swam together in Sophie’s
+vision as they went. Emily was in her saddle,
+and Kitty lifted up and set her boy behind her,
+and then taking the infant Hagar in her arms
+went into the house. Emily paced soberly
+along—Master Gusty was quarrelling all the
+way, asserting that it was <em>his</em> right to ride and
+his mother ought to sit behind <em>him</em>, like the
+parson and Miss Sophie. Mr. Withers was
+waiting for them in the shadow of the forest just
+at its entrance. At another time Emily could
+scarcely have suppressed a smile at seeing the
+cold, dead white face and dilated eyes of
+Sophie Churchill, with her fingers, which spellbound
+she scarcely durst withdraw, stiff and
+pale as tallow candles thrown into strong relief
+upon the black broadcloth of the parson’s
+coat.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Where are your gloves, Miss Churchill?”
+said Emily.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I had not drawn them on, and I lost them
+on our ride. <em>I want to get down and go back
+and get them</em>,” said Sophie, in an imploring
+voice.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Mrs. May—ride forward, madam, and I
+will canter back with Miss Churchill in search
+of her gloves!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, no, no! no, I thank you!—it will be
+too late,” gasped Sophie—but even while she
+spoke he had wheeled his horse and was going
+back.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You should not have named your wish <em>to
+get down</em> and return then,” said he, in his sweet,
+dear tones. They had ridden back about an
+eighth of a mile when Sophie, anxious to rejoin
+her other companions, said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I think I lost my gloves about here.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Mr. Withers alighted, and placing the reins
+and his riding-whip in the hands of Miss
+Churchill, favored the poor girl with a look full
+in the face that froze the blood in her veins.
+She thought of the long ride they would now
+have to take through the forest alone, and her
+heart died within her. She watched him,
+nervously saw him pick up the gloves and turn
+to approach, she looked at him with the eyes
+of a startled fawn ready for flight—she met the
+same basilisk gaze—it maddened her—suddenly
+jerking the bit and putting whip to her horse,
+she sped from the spot like an arrow from a
+bow, and fled across the common with a vague
+idea of reaching her own home—he shouted:</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“The horse is running away with you! rein
+up your horse,” and flew after her. She reached
+the banks of the river—gave one frightened look
+behind, and madly urged her steed down the
+bank and into the rushing water swollen by the
+recent thaw. The water was deep, and her
+steed floundered and struggled with the waves
+just as Withers appeared at the top of the bank—sped
+down—dashed into the water and seizing
+the rein swayed the horse around—drew him to
+the beach, and led him dripping and struggling
+up the bank. When they were once more on
+firm, high ground, he paused to breathe the
+horse; the water was dripping from the dress of
+Sophie, and her wet clothes were clinging tightly
+about her limbs. He leaned upon his elbow
+upon the pommel of her saddle and said, gravely,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You are an interesting young lady, Miss
+Churchill; your feats of horsemanship are surprising.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie’s sudden plunge-bath, and the real
+danger she had passed, had somewhat restored
+the tone of her nervous system by putting to
+flight her imaginary terrors. The horse had
+now recovered his wind and they set forward,
+the preacher leading the horse—they reached the
+cottage gate—he assisted Sophie to alight—as
+she reached the ground she said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You had better push forward to church, Mr.
+Withers; you will be too late.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He took his watch calmly from his pocket
+and holding it near her face, said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“See, it wants a quarter to nine o’clock; if
+you hurry and change your dress we can get
+there in time.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I am not going, sir.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Then I shall stay home to take care of you—you
+need care after this morning’s adventure,”
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_17'>17</span>and so saying, he quietly began to unsaddle the
+horse.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Stop, I will go,” said Sophie, choosing the
+lighter evil, and she hurried in to change her
+dress.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What has happened, sir?” said Kitty, coming
+out.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“The horse ran away with Miss Churchill,”
+replied he.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie now returned arrayed in a black silk,
+and was lifted tremblingly into her seat. They
+then set off at a brisk canter and soon entered the
+forest. Reader, do you like a dark forest road?
+If so, you would have been delighted with the
+forest road leading to this church, winding now
+through a deep dell where the branches met
+over head, and now up a steep hill over which
+the trees were thinly scattered. They had just
+entered a dark walk from which the thick overhanging
+branches excluded nearly every ray of
+light when Sophie, turning her head aside, her
+eyes fell upon some object couched in the underwood,
+her gaze was riveted, her eyes dilated,
+her lips fell apart, her face became ashy pale,
+and then a half-suppressed cry burst from her lips.
+The parson halted—turned around in his saddle—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What is the matter, Miss Churchill?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Something frightened me in the bushes.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He looked scrutinizingly in every direction.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I see nothing—was it a wolf?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No—let’s go on.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Your heart is beating as though it would
+break its prison—you are shaking like an ague.
+Was it a bear?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, no—<em>do</em> go on.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>What</em> was it then?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Nothing, nothing—please go on.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And yet you can scarcely keep your seat.
+Are you nervous, Miss Churchill?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, very.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I should think so; you should have medical
+advice,” and touching his horse, they galloped
+forward.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>They soon entered an open forest glade in
+which stood the church, a red brick building,
+having the form of a cross. Many broken tombstones
+were all around it, and scattering trees to
+which were tied numerous horses, and nearly
+filling up the glade were hundreds of vehicles of
+every description, from the ox-cart to the splendid
+coach and pair. Alighting near a horse-block,
+he fastened his horse, and lifting her from
+the pillion, led her into the church, which was
+already crowded, and up the long middle aisle
+to the pew of Emily, which was the top pew on
+the right hand facing the pulpit; he opened the
+door, saw her seated, and passed on to his reading-desk.
+Emily observed the pale face and
+trembling frame of her friend, but had no opportunity
+of inquiring the cause, which she naturally
+associated with her delay in overtaking
+her. Nor was this opportunity afforded after
+church, when the congregation all crowded
+around to speak to their new minister. Mr.
+Gardiner Green, a wealthy planter, the nearest
+neighbor of Emily, performed the part of master
+of ceremonies. It is true that all had seen Mr.
+Withers at Mr. May’s funeral, but upon such an
+occasion as that, of course there could be but
+few introductions. It was an hour before the
+congregation were all in their saddles or their
+vehicles, and ready to disperse.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>When our little party were mounted and had
+entered the forest, the pastor said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Your young friend, Miss Churchill, is a celebrated
+horsewoman, is she not, Mrs. May?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Very.</em> Sophie is the best rider of all the
+ladies of this county,” said Emily, unsuspiciously,
+“but what detained you so long?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“While I was hunting for Miss Churchill’s
+gloves, her horse suddenly started and ran off
+with her; dashed down the bank and into the
+river. She kept her seat like a heroine, and so
+was saved.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Emily evinced less surprise than might have
+been expected, merely remarking,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I have known Sophie Churchill to ford that
+river on horseback when a mere child.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yet Miss Churchill seems very timid too.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“She is. Her good horsemanship is merely
+habit—she has been accustomed to ride from infancy;
+but to-day Sophie certainly is nervous—what
+is the matter with you, Sophie, my love?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie spoke of her fright in the forest, yet
+persisted in refusing to explain it. They
+reached home. Dinner was ready, the ladies
+laid off their bonnets, and all sat down to the
+table. Immediately after dinner the minister
+arose and retired to his chamber, and Sophie
+drew a long free breath, as though a stricture
+were removed from her chest.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Come into our bedroom, and let’s put on
+our loose wrappers and lie down, Sophie; it is
+really fatiguing these long rides to church and
+back.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>And she arose, and Sophie followed her.
+Emily assisted her off with her dress, and taking
+a bottle of cologne, washed her face and head
+until she looked better; and then, as they
+rested on the bed, she said,—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Now, Sophie, tell me about this forest
+fright, for there is more in it than you would
+confess to any one but me.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Perhaps you will think it imagination, or
+nothing, yet, as we entered the deep dell, just a
+quarter of a mile behind the church, I happened
+to turn my head, and low, crouched down to
+the ground, I saw—”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“The wannest, most spectral face that could
+be conceived, with wild eyes and streaming
+hair.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“A runaway mulatto!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I tell you <em>no</em>! The face was whiter than
+snow—the eyes blue, and blazing in their steady
+gaze upon me; the hair golden, streaked with
+silver. The skeleton hand was like a bird’s
+claw with emaciation, and the finger pointed to
+the minister.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Emily listened with an incredulous smile, then
+she said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“A figure conjured up by imagination, Sophie—a
+mere creature of your disordered
+nerves. You should read Sir Walter Scott’s
+letters on Demonology, and then you would
+understand. But, dear, how do you and the
+minister get on? Do you know I think you are
+a favorite with him.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! God forbid!” said Sophie, clasping her
+hands.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why, my dear, what is the matter?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Oh!</em> I have such an antipathy to him—such
+a sickening, deadly antipathy to him; when
+his eyes meet mine, or his hand falls upon mine,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_18'>18</span>a cold chill runs all through me, and I grow
+blind and faint.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, my love, fortunately you are not
+obliged to like him. Yet he will be very popular,
+Sophie. Did you observe the even unusual
+respect paid him by his congregation to-day?
+His sermon made a marked impression. All
+the widows and girls will be setting their caps
+for him, but you, I think, will win the prize.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Emily, I am going home to-morrow.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>No</em>, my love, no; why, what put that into
+your head?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I do not like to stay here; I do not like
+Mr. Withers, and I do not like the tone of your
+conversation so soon after your husband’s
+death.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The tears overflowed Emily’s eyes.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I am wrong—I am wrong, to forget for a
+moment the loss of so kind a friend; and yet,
+Sophie, death never did make me gloomy.
+Sickness does, suffering does, but I quite as often
+envy as regret the departed. Think, Sophie, he
+has rejoined in heaven the wife of his youth and
+middle life, ‘the Michal of his bloom,’ whom he
+loved as he never could love <em>me</em>, ‘the Abishag
+of his age.’ She was his companion for time
+and for eternity; I, only a fellow-passenger for
+a short stage—the <em>end</em> of his journey, the <em>beginning</em>
+of mine.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Here a summons to tea broke up their conference.
+They dressed and went out; the minister
+was there before them. They sat down
+to tea.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The next morning Sophie Churchill made an
+effort to return home, but she was overruled. It
+was Saturday, Emily said, and she must stay to
+attend church the next day, Easter Sunday.
+She complied, and attended church with the family,
+without meeting with another adventure
+of any sort. On Easter Monday Sophie mounted
+on Emily’s horse, and carrying little Hagar on
+her lap, set out for her home at Heath Hall, attended
+by Master Gusty Wilde May as escort,
+who fancied his manhood greatly accelerated by
+the honor of his office.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>I told you that the house at the Heath was
+large and square. It faced the bay, and a wide
+hall ran from the central front entrance through
+to the back—from the middle of this hall, and
+facing the entrance, arose the wide staircase,
+whose balustrades turned off in a scroll on each
+side of the bottom steps. Under these stairs was
+a large closet where household utensils were
+kept. On each side of this wide hall were
+opposite doors—the left hand door letting into
+the parlor, the right hand door into the ruinous
+drawing-room. The dim old parlor, with the
+sleeping-room above it, and the kitchen near it,
+was the only habitable part of the house, and
+even these rooms leaked in rainy weather. One
+evening, about a week from the day of her
+arrival at home, Sophie Churchill sat alone
+before the smouldering fire in the wide arched
+fire-place; a lamp burned on the little old spiderlegged
+workstand; the moonlight streamed
+through the branches of the old poplar trees
+that swayed against the four gothic-arched and
+curtainless front windows. The room was
+nearly bare of furniture; no carpet was on the
+floor; and the once bright-colored landscape
+paper on the walls illustrating Fox’s Christian
+Martyrs was torn and faded. It was a weird
+scene enough. The figures of the Martyrs were
+large as life. Upon the wall opposite the fire-place,
+and beside the door leading into the hall,
+was the representation of a Christian suffering
+the baptism of fire; and as the ray of the lamp
+flickered upon it, the form of the martyr seemed
+to writhe and quiver—seemed to dip and rise
+from the flames, and the features of his tormentors
+to grin and leer. Sophie was there knitting,
+and her large brown eyes were somewhat
+larger, with a vague terror that had fallen upon
+her spirits as soon as she was left alone. And
+well might she feel this; except the infant and
+the beldam, there was not a soul within half a
+mile of her, and the forest behind was known to
+be the refuge of a runaway negro—a gigantic
+fellow, whose depredations in the neighborhood
+were violent and frequent.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>At the time I write of, the most heinous crimes
+were sometimes perpetrated by fugitive slaves in
+their desperation; their motives—revenge, impending
+starvation, or a passionate desire for liberty.
+They are the banditti of the Southern States.
+The forests of Maryland and Virginia contain
+caves, once the resort of runaway negroes, from
+whence at night they issued and fell upon the
+unwary traveller or the unprotected house to
+levy their contributions.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Jim Hice,” the man whose depredations now
+spread terror through the neighborhood, was a
+fugitive not only from slavery, but from justice.
+Impelled by starvation, he had once, after
+watching a long time outside of the window to
+know that the coast was clear, entered the
+kitchen of an old friend and begged “a mouthful
+to save me from starving.” This friend gave
+him a can of whiskey, which he swallowed at a
+draught, and which, from the emptiness of his
+stomach, immediately intoxicated him; and then
+offered him a hunk of corn pone and a herring,
+which he began to devour like a wild beast.
+But before he could finish it, the door opened
+and the overseer of the estate appeared. The
+negro recognised him—his eyes flew wildly
+around. He sprang to the window, but was
+seized by the hands of the overseer before he
+could pass through it. They struggled for life
+and death—but the struggle was unequal. Soon
+the gigantic negro had hugged his captor to his
+bosom with one strong arm, while with the
+other hand he drew from his pocket a butcher
+knife and plunged it to the handle into his chest—then
+dropping him, sprang over his body,
+cleared the door, and fled to the woods.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The officers of justice were soon in pursuit—a
+price was set upon his head—volunteering parties
+set out in search of him, and he was traced to
+the forest behind Heath Hall. There, in spite of
+the most vigorous hunt with horses and hounds
+in the deep dells and dense thickets of the forest,
+he remained concealed.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>It was a week since they had lost trace of
+him there—and old Cumbo had just brought the
+news to Sophie that day—hence Sophie’s
+dilating eyes and starting nerves at every sound.
+At last, though but eight o’clock, she could bear
+it no longer—so wrought up had her nerves
+become that as the lamp flickered against the
+walls, the old figures in the landscape paper,
+Fox’s Martyrs, seemed to dance and jibber in
+their flames. The rattling branches against the
+windows seemed the breaking, crushing crossbar
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_19'>19</span>of the burglar, while the glancing of the
+moonbeams between them seemed like the
+gliding about of spirits from another world.
+Sophie arose with a cautious tread, as though
+stealing from enemies, and opened the door of
+the great hall from the centre of which the staircase
+ascended. She held her lamp in one hand,
+her knitting in the other, and her heart was
+beating and her eyes half starting as she opened
+the door and prepared to bound up the stairs to
+her own, and little Hagar’s room. Somehow all
+her vague imaginary terrors gave way, while she
+held little Hagar in her arms, as though there
+was safety in the presence of infant innocence.
+She opened the door, and there before her, joining
+her, stood the gigantic negro, with wild,
+haggard face, and bloodshot eyes! With a
+piercing scream, Sophie dropped her candle,
+which was extinguished in the fall, and fled back
+into the parlor.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He followed her.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She had sunk, paralysed with extreme terror,
+into a chair.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The negro stood before her again, and extending
+one talon-like hand, exclaimed—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I am not going to hurt you, Miss Sophie—give
+me some victuals—I am starving!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>But Sophie only gazed at him with a <a id='t19'></a>startled
+and stony eye—her senses petrified.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Give me some food, Miss Churchill, I die—”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'><em>Sophie</em> was dying, or seemed to be—her head
+had fallen back against the chair—her chin had
+dropped, and her stony eyes, started from her
+chalky face, were riveted upon her fearful visitor.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'><em>His</em> eyes were hollow and fiery, and his giant
+frame was trembling in every limb. He dropped
+on the floor before her, and said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Miss Sophie, Miss Sophie, look at me. I
+won’t hurt you—how could I hurt you when I
+can scarcely stand! Give me some victuals—I
+have not tasted food for four days. Give me
+some, Miss Sophie!—Oh don’t be scared at <em>me</em>—not
+at <em>me</em>—who used to ride you on my
+shoulder when you were a baby—how could <em>I</em>
+hurt you?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Just then the door opened, and Sophie, with a
+scream of joy, bounded from her chair, sprang
+over the prostrate negro, and flew into the arms
+of old Cumbo and fainted.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The pastor was behind the old woman. The
+negro seeing her, started up, ran and shook the
+window sash—it resisted his efforts to raise or
+break; sprang to the opposite side, tried another
+window in vain—then attempted to dart past
+the minister who stood in the door. Mr.
+Withers extended his arm, intercepted and
+captured the fugitive. He struggled—Mr.
+Withers was cool, strong, and determined—held
+him fast by the wrists—trying to get them
+together that he might bind them. He stood
+firm, while the negro—his eyes glaring like flame
+in a dark night, his teeth set, his thick neck
+swollen, his starting muscles, like knotted cords
+in his sinewy arms, fell violently from side to
+side in his desperate efforts to escape.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He had been starving, and the factitious strength
+lent by despair soon failed—his struggles became
+fainter and fainter—and ceased as Mr. Withers
+bore him down to the floor, placed his knee upon
+his breast, crossed his wrists, and hallooed to the
+old woman to bring a cord to bind him.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Old Cumbo, in a distant part of the room, was
+bathing her young mistress’s face with water—Sophia
+Churchill was recovering from her faint.
+The old woman hobbled up, shaking her hand
+in the face of the captive as she passed him,
+exclaiming, “You gallows face vilyun you!”
+went into the hall, opened a dark closet under
+the stairs, and drew out a clothes line, which she
+brought to Mr. Withers. He bound his prisoner
+securely, and then stood up from his labors to
+breathe; his eyes fell on the drooping form of
+Sophia Churchill, he walked up to her and stooping
+over her spake softly,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You have been in some danger and very
+great alarm, Miss Churchill; I thank God who
+inspired my visit to you this evening. I just
+chanced to knock at your hall door, as your old
+servant, aroused by your screams, had come
+down to your assistance; she opened the door
+and admitted me.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophia was still trembling in every limb, and
+the tears were trickling down her cheeks.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And now, Miss Churchill, I must leave you
+immediately to proceed to the village and procure
+an officer; the miscreant must be lodged in
+jail to-night. Don’t feel any more alarm; he is
+perfectly secure, or if it would relieve you, we
+can lock him up; have you a room?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No,” said Sophia, “don’t lock him up.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“It would be altogether a work of supererogation,
+I think. Well, Miss Churchill, I will
+leave you now, and return within two hours.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>So saying the minister took his hat and withdrew.
+Sophia remained leaning her cheek upon
+her hand. The old woman stood stooping over
+the negro with her hands resting on her knees,
+peering down in his face.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Kik—kik—kik!” (laughing),  “you ready
+trussed for hanging up now, ain’t you? kik—kik—kik—kik!
+how you feel when git rope roun’
+neck, hey? Mind, I gwine see you hang, hear?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Cumbo, come away,” commanded Miss
+Churchill, as sternly as she knew how to speak.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The old woman did not move nor take off her
+eyes from her fallen foe, but answered, “Oh, he
+one gran’ rascal, Missy, one gallows face vilyun
+as ever lib—use to drive me ’bout ’mong corn
+hills, when he great man, when he Massa Churchill
+oberseer—black oberseer—<em>black</em> gemmun—<em>black</em>
+Massa! kik—kik—kik!” And the old
+woman snapped her fingers under the nose of
+the prisoner.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The harshness of black overseers, who are
+often selected for their greater vigilance and
+severity, and the hatred the negroes feel towards
+them, is notorious in the Southern States.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The old woman continued her abuse, the
+negro suffered it without reply. Sophia Churchill
+watched him</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c004'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“Until the pity of her heart grew strong.”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c008'>At last the old woman said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Now I gwine out, see ef dey comin’ wid
+cons’ble,” and left the room.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophia looked at the poor wretch tied like a
+beast for slaughter, and thought of the dreadful
+death hanging over him, until pity overcame
+terror and conquered reason. She arose, and
+drawing near him stealthily as one would approach
+a bound tiger, she said gently:</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Jim, I’m sorry for you.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! Miss Sophia,” said he weeping.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Very</em> sorry for you. Oh! Jim, <em>why</em> did you
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_20'>20</span>run away, and <em>why</em> did you break into houses and
+rob, and <em>why, why</em> did you stab the overseer?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Is</em> he dead? tell me <em>that, is</em> he dead, Miss
+Sophia?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, Jim, he is not dead, he has recovered,
+so you are free from blood-guiltiness.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Thank God, then, I’m no murderer.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But, poor wretch, your fate in this world
+will be the same as though you were. You
+made an assault upon the life of an overseer in
+his attempt to re-capture you; not just to <em>see</em>
+what you have brought yourself to.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The negro wept outright.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But I did not come over here to reprove
+you, Jim. Jim, if I were to cut your bands and
+let you go, what would you do?” He half
+started up, gazed intently on her and said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I would go down on my knees and bless
+you; I’d learn to pray, so I could pray for you.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I don’t mean that; would you try to reform?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Miss Sophia, would you believe me if I were
+to promise?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophia was silent.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“There, I knew you wouldn’t, Miss Sophia,
+you couldn’t if you were to try,” and he sighed
+heavily.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Jim, I will let you go. I don’t know whether
+I am doing right or wrong, but I cannot bear
+the thought of your wretched condition, and the
+awful fate that too surely awaits you, if you are
+imprisoned to-night. Listen, Jim. I have a
+strong fishing-boat, moored at the beach, at the
+foot of the promontory; two oars and some
+fishing tackle are in it—in the little fishing-shed
+under the brow of the rock there is a sail. When
+I cut these cords, fly, take the boat, the oars,
+and the sail, put out into the bay, keep near the
+coast, and <em>up</em> the bay, until you reach the Susquehanna;
+go a few miles up that, and then
+land. You will be in Pennsylvania, and you
+will be safe. And oh, listen! Go to work—steal
+no more, for every future crime you commit
+will rest upon my head for permitting you
+to escape.” Sophie was now trembling at the
+responsibility she was assuming. “Look you,
+Jim, resolve upon amendment, pray God to help,
+and <em>I</em>,” said she sternly, “<em>I</em> shall pray too. I
+shall pray God to help you to reform, and I
+shall pray God to grant you a safe termination
+to your highly dangerous voyage, if you are
+<em>going</em> to reform; if not, if he sees your heart is
+hardened, I shall pray him in that case to let
+you drown or fall into the hands of your pursuers,
+that my mercy to you may not turn out
+cruelty to others.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She went into the kitchen, got a pone of cornbread
+and a knife, returned and cut his cords.
+He sprang upon his feet, and scarcely waiting to
+receive the pone she gave him, fled from the
+house.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie sat down trembling in her seat. She
+had been afraid of him even while talking to
+him and setting him at liberty; now she drew a
+long breath, with an inexpressible feeling of relief.
+But soon came other thoughts; her doubtful
+act of mercy had been a matter of feeling
+entirely, and by no means of judgment, and she
+did not now feel altogether assured of its prosperity;
+besides she feared that she had made herself
+in some way amenable to the laws, by assisting
+a felon to escape. Sophie was really
+growing sick at heart; she resolved to avoid an
+explanation and seek her rest. She went to her
+chamber, undressed and retired to bed, where,
+with little Hagar clasped in her arms, she tried
+to forget in the presence of innocence the scene
+of horror she had lately witnessed. Presently
+she heard the officers enter the room below;
+exclamations of surprise and regret (oaths were
+spared in the pastor’s presence), and then she
+heard old Cumbo hobbling up the stairs. She entered
+her room, exclaiming in tones of extreme
+indignation—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Ha! hi! <em>What</em> do you think, Miss Soph,
+do you think that gallows-faced vilyun ain’t
+broke loose and <em>gone</em>!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie raised herself on her elbow and looked
+at the old woman without speaking.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, indeed! broke loose and <em>gone</em>! There’s
+no tellin’ what <em>he wouldn’t</em> do, the ungrateful
+wretch, to break loose and go! after Massa
+Widders con’cendin’ tu him too! Oh! he’d ’ny
+his Saviour—<em>he’d</em> do anything.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Cumbo, will you be kind enough to go down
+to Mr. Withers, and tell him that I am sick—<em>very</em>
+sick—and ask him to excuse my absence!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“An’ nuff to make you! an’ nuff to make
+you! I’m sick myself; I did hope to see that
+gran’ rascal hang. I did <em>that</em>, and now jes see
+what a ’spointment.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>And the old woman hobbled away, and soon
+she heard her visitors leave the house, speaking
+their regret and sympathy as they went. Old
+Cumbo came up, and spreading a pallet near her
+young mistress’s bed, lay down to sleep, or
+rather to talk.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER V.<br> <span class='c009'>THE PHILOSOPHER.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c014'>“Anxiety and Ennui are the Scylla and Charybdis
+of the voyage of Life.”</p>
+<div class='lg-container-r c015'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Ramsay on Human Happiness.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>The next morning early Emily May was over
+at the hall. She rode her own saddle-horse and
+little Gusty rode another, behind which was fixed
+a pillion, upon which Sophie was to return to
+the Grove—at least, so said Mrs. May, for she
+persisted that Heath Hall was neither a safe nor
+a proper place of residence for Miss Churchill.
+But neither coaxing threats nor arguments would
+have prevailed with Sophie to leave the Heath—her
+antipathy to Emily’s boarder was undiminished.
+Emily spent the day with her, and at
+nightfall left, disappointed.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>That evening, after the beldam and the infant
+were asleep, Sophie as usual sat alone in her
+large old parlor. She felt a sense of security
+and peace, and plied her knitting-needles diligently—her
+thoughts occupied with no heavier
+matter than the heeling and toeing of little
+Hagar’s red worsted stockings, or at most, the
+well-being of her cow and calf, or her vegetable
+garden, for already upon the maiden had
+descended matronly cares. She sat there knitting,
+and presently a rap—a calm, self-possessed
+rap was heard at the hall door; she glanced at
+the old clock in the corner, it was seven
+o’clock; she passed to the door and reached it
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_21'>21</span>just as the rap was repeated; she opened it, and
+Mr. Withers, the minister, stood before her; his
+thin dark figure looming up in the moonshine.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Good evening, Miss Churchill,” said he,
+stepping in, taking her hand and pressing it
+gently. “You have quite recovered your fright,
+I trust?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Quite, sir,” replied Sophie, laconically, as
+she reluctantly led the way into the room and
+set a chair for her minister on the opposite side
+of her workstand. He dropped himself into it,
+and extending his long legs towards the little
+fire, he said,—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You were not at church last Sabbath, Miss
+Sophie, and it was with a view of inquiring the
+reason of your absence that I came here—may
+I make that inquiry now?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Except while with Mrs. May I have not
+been to church for many months.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“May I inquire, as your pastor, why?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“The distance is considerable; that, in Summer,
+would be no objection, but during the Winter
+and Spring the roads are nearly impassable
+to a foot passenger, and I have no conveyance.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Ah!” said the minister, a gleam of pleasure
+lighting up his dark countenance, “then I am
+very happy in possessing the means of obviating
+that objection; having just purchased a gig, I
+shall be very happy in making a small circuit in
+my ride, for the purpose of taking you to
+church.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You will be giving yourself too much trouble,
+sir,” said Sophie.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Not so, my dear; you must see that to <em>me</em>
+at least it will be a pleasure.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You are very obliging, sir.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie’s eyes were fixed upon her knitting.
+She appeared to be counting the stitches. He
+found it very difficult to support a conversation
+with her, but he persevered, questioning her with a
+pastor’s privilege with a young parishioner, upon
+the state of her affairs in general, her income,
+the number of slaves on hire, the resources of
+her farm, her fishing landing, her moor, her
+garden, and her dairy. She gave him laconic,
+but straightforward answers, and at the end of
+the colloquy he mused, and, half to himself,
+said, that the place had been very much abused,
+that with ease it might yet be reclaimed, and a
+handsome property made of it; and then, at the
+end of an hour, he arose and took leave.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie rejoiced that his visit was at an end.
+Throughout his whole stay she had not once
+raised her eyes to his countenance.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Two evenings from that, at the same hour,
+and in the same place, Sophie sat alone, a rap
+was heard at the door, and again she arose,
+opened it, and admitted the minister; again he
+found a seat at the opposite side of her workstand;
+and again he freely used his pastoral
+privilege of questioning her; but this time it was
+not upon external circumstances, but upon the
+operations of her mind and heart; and how
+adroitly he did it—<em>with his pastoral privilege</em>—and
+but for her antipathy, how easy had been
+his task, with one of Sophie’s <em>naiveté</em>. Yes,
+she admitted, in reply to his searching questions,
+that even she, young as she was, sometimes felt
+life to wane and sink as though her very soul
+was dying in her bosom, that sometimes life appeared
+to have no object worth pursuing.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You suffer from ennui then, Miss Churchill,
+perhaps you would not feel this so much in the
+company of your friend, Mrs. May, would
+you?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, sir, I have felt dull even with Emily.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Do you suffer from <em>ennui</em> when busied in
+your garden, your dairy, or at your needle-work?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, sir, for it seems to me sometimes a sad
+waste of life to pass it <em>only</em> in feeding the
+stomach and clothing the back.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie was certainly beginning to be more
+communicative; the pastor was drawing her out.
+He looked at her now with more interest than
+ever, as he said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And yet, Miss Churchill, there is your friend,
+Mrs. May, who finds her happiness in her daily
+life and household duties. How do you account
+for her habitual cheerfulness; or do you suppose
+that she is ever a victim to ennui?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Never!</em> But then Emily May is a ‘fine
+woman,’ every one says so—‘an excellent manager’—the
+best housekeeper in the county, and
+she is happy, busy and happy, because she deserves
+to be. I am, or if I could afford it,
+<em>should</em> be idle, for I am not as fond of household
+work as Emily is, and I am discontented,
+and as idleness and discontent are sin, and sin is
+misery, therefore I am sometimes miserable, it is
+quite plain.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why don’t you overcome this sinful tendency
+then?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“As yet I have not been able to do it, I resolve—”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘And re-resolve,’ and will be likely to ‘die
+the same,’ if you do not get to the root of your
+malady and understand it. Your explanation”
+(and the pastor smiled a slightly cynical smile)
+“is an orthodox piece of theology enough, as
+far as it goes. Idleness is certainly sinful and a
+fruitful cause of discontent, because it is opposed
+to the principles of our organization; there is no
+atom in the universe idle for a single instant, nor
+are we, even our bodies, <em>ever</em> idle, even when
+sleeping, for the heart, lungs, and brain continue
+to perform their functions, even when <em>dead</em>; for
+when the dust returns to dust, its particles,
+through a thousand ramifications, perform a
+thousand services in the universe. And the
+mind? Is the mind <em>ever</em> idle? Has the course
+of thought been once really arrested since it first
+began? It has flowed in countless millions of
+courses; it has been suddenly turned aside, but
+has it ever stopped? Your heart has beaten, your
+brain worked for twenty years, to what purpose?
+No, Miss Churchill, by <em>idleness</em> you mean misdirection
+of energies; and by <em>discontent</em> the pain
+that naturally follows therefrom. Listen to me,
+Miss Churchill.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie was listening to him with interest—these
+thoughts, however old, were to the unopened
+mind of the young girl new and striking.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Listen, I can explain your friend’s happiness
+and your own misery, better and more satisfactorily
+than you have done—and by doing so,
+illustrate the lesson I wish to give you; and
+further and more completely to illustrate my
+theory, I must bring in another acquaintance of
+ours, Mrs. Gardiner Green; what is her character,
+Sophie?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“An elegant woman, all the neighbors say,
+but always in a bustle, always overheated about
+something, always anxious.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_22'>22</span>“I thought so! she will do for an illustration
+of my first class <i><span lang="fr">à merveille</span></i>.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Listen then, Miss Churchill—the secret of
+happiness is <em>this</em>: the striking of a just balance
+between the desires and the faculties; if the
+desires are greater than the faculties, they will
+goad you on to efforts beyond your strength, and
+anxiety will destroy happiness, as in the case of
+Mrs. Gardiner Green, whose desires Heaven
+knows are low enough—being only to shine as
+the bright particular star of a country neighborhood—to
+have the best house, the best equipage,
+to wear the best dresses, and give the best dinners;
+grovelling as these wishes are, they yet
+exceed her faculties for accomplishing them—hence
+her eternal fret. I can further illustrate
+this class of unfortunates by a notorious name,
+Aaron Burr; brilliant as were his faculties his
+desires yet transcended them—he wished to rule
+alike despotically over the hearts and minds of
+men and women, and over the nations of the
+earth. In both these cases that I have cited,
+one from the highest, the other from the lowest
+grade of mind, the evil was the same—the
+balance between the faculties and the desires was
+not struck. Well, Miss Churchill, you are
+musing—upon what?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I was thinking, had Aaron Burr had the
+power of accomplishing his ambitious desires, or
+had Mrs. Gardiner Green the ability to carry
+out her vain ones, would either be any happier?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“That involves another question of moral
+philosophy to which we have not arrived, and
+which we will not discuss just now. We are
+speaking of present and positive causes of unhappiness,
+and not of future contingencies,
+Sophie—I beg your pardon, Miss Churchill.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Call me Sophie, I am more accustomed to
+that name,” said she, rather timidly. Truly
+Miss Churchill was “coming round,” and the
+minister felt it, for he replied gently,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And I am more accustomed to hear you
+called Sophie—and,” added he softly, “to <em>think</em>
+of you as Sophie.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She avoided meeting his eyes, which she felt
+fixed upon her, and a strange pain, dissipating
+all the intellectual pleasures she was beginning
+to receive from his society, crept into her heart—she
+blamed herself for having spoken in the
+manner she did.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He resumed,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You, Sophie, belong to the second class of
+my unfortunates, the class whose <em>faculties</em> transcend
+their desires, whose peculiar torment is
+<em>ennui</em>. You, Sophie, have some noble faculty
+or faculties unemployed, and they are corroding
+in your bosom, and you call your suffering discontent.
+Your remedy is to discover these latent
+faculties (for very often these are as unknown or
+unsuspected by their possessor, as is some obscure
+physical disease), and develope and cultivate
+them—it is their suppressed life that is torturing
+you now—bring them out, use them, give them
+a field and you will be happy.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But how?” said Sophie, looking up again.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I will teach you by-and-by. Pass we now
+to the third class, or those whose faculties and
+desires are fairly balanced, who suffer neither
+from ennui on the one side nor anxiety on the
+other. Your friend, Mrs. May, is a perfect
+example of this happy organization; her whole
+soul is in her house and family; she has no wish
+beyond the well ordering of her dwelling, the
+propriety of her dress, her table, her manners
+and conversation, and the education of her son,
+and her faculties are fully equal to, and not
+greater than her wishes; thus she is always
+calmly busy and serenely happy.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He now arose to take leave, and Sophie took
+the lamp to light him to the door. When they got
+there he held out his hand to bid her good night;
+he caught her hand, held it a moment while his
+glance sought her eyes, met them, and he murmured
+in a low earnest voice, “Sophie.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She withdrew her hand, dropped her eyes, and
+a chill crept over her frame. He whispered
+“good night,” set his hat upon his head, and
+walked off. His tall thin figure was soon seen
+stalking up and down the undulating hills that
+descended to the river.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Two or three days passed and Miss Churchill
+saw no more of the minister. “I wonder if he
+will come to-night,” had been the secret thought
+of Sophie as evening approached each day; and
+half with dread, half with hope, she listened for
+his knock. His last visit had been on Wednesday.
+Saturday evening came. Sophie had completed
+her week’s work, and was sitting at the
+window with her hands folded on her lap, and
+looking out into the moonlit scene. The moon
+was now full, and the broad river and the boundless
+bay were reflected in its light and seen between
+the clumps of intervening trees. At last upon
+the path issuing from the clump of trees on the
+left, was seen the tall figure of the minister.
+Sophie withdrew from the window, and soon
+after Mr. Withers was admitted by old Cumbo,
+who had not yet retired to bed.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, Miss Churchill,” said he, advancing to
+her side, “have you succeeded in discovering
+those faculties, whose corrosion in idleness is
+giving you so much distress?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I cannot flatter myself, sir, with the idea of
+possessing any faculties above the simple discharge
+of plain duties.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Then you are quite happy in knitting, sewing,
+and watching old Cumbo milk the cows and
+weed the garden; and you never wish these occupations
+varied except by rest and recreation?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie was silent. He had now taken a seat by
+her side on the settle under the window. Sophie’s
+eyes were riveted abstractedly on the opposite
+wall, papered with the martyrdom of St. Petronella
+and the four noble Roman ladies who suffered
+with her; the scene represented the martyrdom
+at the moment when life was offered the
+young saint as she stood upon the scaffold, on condition
+of her recantation. She stood in the centre
+of the scaffold arrayed in a scant white tunic, her
+white and slender limbs exposed, her hands
+clasped upon her bosom, and her fine blue eyes
+raised to heaven, her golden locks rolling to her
+waist; behind her, leaning on his axe, whose end
+rested on the block, stood the executioner; on
+her left hand stood the group of imperial officers,
+with their offer of mercy; on her right knelt her
+aged father with his grey locks streaming on the
+wind, his face upturned to hers in the anguish of
+supplication, holding towards her a babe of a
+few days old—<em>her</em> babe, of which she had been
+delivered in prison—appealing to her by the
+venerableness of his own grey hairs, the innocence
+of its infancy, and the helplessness of both,
+to avoid death, to recant her faith, and to live for
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_23'>23</span>them; but the eyes of the saint never fell from
+their high glance, the look alike above the terror,
+the bribe, and the love below her.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, Miss Churchill, when you have contemplated
+that saint, which the painter has martyred
+worse than the Pagans, to your heart’s
+content, you will give me an answer, perhaps, or
+is it so familiar that you never see it?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“It is very familiar, sir, but it never wearies
+me; and now that you remind me of it, I sometimes,
+when I have nothing to do in the house,
+and when the weather is too inclement for me
+to go out, reproduce these scenes with a pencil
+and paper, and sometimes,” said she, blushing
+deeply, “illustrate them with pen and ink.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You draw, and write poetry; will you permit
+me to see some of your productions?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I try, but fail in both, sir; and if you will
+pardon me, I would prefer not to expose my folly
+further.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The pastor urged his point in vain, Sophie
+gently but firmly resisted.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>But at this moment old Cumbo, who had hobbled
+out of the room, hobbled back, and before
+Sophie suspected her purpose, thrust into the pastor’s
+hands a dilapidated old portfolio, grumbling
+out,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I telled her so—wouldn’t b’lieve ole nigger,
+how de church would be down on top ob her for
+make de image ob ebery ting in heaben above,
+in de earf beneaf, an’ de waters under de earf.
+I telled her how ’twould be.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The minister examined the contents of the
+portfolio with a critic’s eye; it was filled with
+very mediocre drawings, and very common-place
+versicles; in vain did the pastor look for one
+single stray gleam of genius; no more flashes of
+the fire divine were to be seen in her work than in
+her own soft brown eyes. The minister returned
+the papers to the portfolio, and handed it back
+to the old negress, who stood leaning over her
+stick in chuckling expectation of hearing her
+young mistress soundly lectured upon breaking
+the first commandment.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“This is idleness, this is play, this is not your
+vocation, Miss Churchill,” and looking upon
+Sophie’s round face, large soft eyes, and pouting
+lips, he said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I think after all, those strong faculties that
+want expression reside in your <em>heart</em>, not in your
+<em>head</em>, Miss Churchill.” Then, as though he had
+regretted his speech, he was suddenly silent.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>After a while he arose to take leave, saying
+as he left the house,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I will call at nine to-morrow, to take you
+to church, Sophie.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The next morning he called in his vehicle.
+He found Sophie seated at the window with little
+Hagar on her lap. She was teaching her to read,
+and her whole countenance was irradiated with
+the love of her work. The child’s little wild
+dark face was sparkling, too; she had succeeded
+in arousing and riveting her mind. As the eyes
+of the minister fell through the open window
+upon this scene he made two silent comments:
+“Her vocation is that of a teacher,” and “That
+child has far more genius than her instructress;”
+and then he passed by the window into the house.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Good morning, Miss Churchill. Come, we
+are waiting for you. Mrs. Gardiner Green has
+been kind enough to ride over with me.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie gave little Hagar into the charge of
+old Cumbo, and went away to put on her bonnet.
+She was surprised that Mrs. Gardiner
+Green, who had scarcely ever condescended to
+notice her, should have been so kind upon this
+occasion; had Sophie Churchill known a little
+more of the world she would have seen nothing
+strange in this change. Even when seated by
+her side the affability of the lady became almost
+oppressive.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER VI.<br> <span class='c009'>THE YOUNG LIEUTENANT.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“A stalwart, active, soldier-looking stripling,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Handsome as Hercules ere his first labor,</div>
+      <div class='line'>With a brow of thought beyond his years,</div>
+      <div class='line'>When in repose, till his eye kindles up</div>
+      <div class='line'>In answering yours.”</div>
+      <div class='line in24'><span class='sc'>Werner.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c004'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“Behind a darker hour ascends.”</div>
+      <div class='line in32'><span class='sc'>Marmion.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>The minister had discovered Sophie Churchill’s
+vocation by the subtle sympathy that existed between
+the instructress and the pupil, in the little
+scene he had witnessed. He was not backward
+in improving his discovery.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“We are very much in need of a parish-school,
+Miss Churchill,” said he one evening as
+he sat with her. “I do not mean by that a
+free-school, but a school for the instruction of
+the younger children connected with the congregation.
+I have conversed with several of my
+parishioners, and they all favor the plan of establishing
+one. The circumstances of the surrounding
+neighborhood point to Heath Hall
+as its locality, and to the young lady of Heath
+Hall as its mistress. This has also been named
+and approved, and I come on the part of the
+vestry, who will resolve themselves into a board
+of school trustees, to lay the subject before you
+for consideration. What do you think of it,
+Miss Churchill?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, if I were only fit for it!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You are the most proper person for it that I
+know. The faculty of teaching is a natural
+gift, like painting or poetry, and it is <em>your</em> gift;
+you can infuse into the mind of a tolerably intelligent
+child all your own knowledge, and not
+only so, but if you possess the faculty in its perfection,
+as I think you do, you can arouse the
+mind of a dull child, and inspire that of a darkened
+one with intelligence.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But I am really <em>so</em> ignorant.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“That is a matter of secondary importance—knowledge
+can be acquired. You possess the
+first requisite, that which never <em>can</em> be acquired,
+the natural adaptation for the profession. Why,
+Sophie, I have known men of the finest talents
+and the highest attainments in science and literature,
+fine classical and mathematical scholars,
+who could not for the soul of them convey into
+a child’s mind the reason why you sometimes
+borrow ten and carry one in the rule of subtraction;
+and I have known such men at the head
+of large academies, or filling professors’ chairs
+in colleges, advanced to their post of responsibility
+upon account of their vast acquirements in
+knowledge and their unimpeachable morality.
+Now this would seem to be all that is required,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_24'>24</span>yet people never take into account the attractions
+a profession should have for its votary.
+So these men of unimpeachable morality and
+unexcelled intelligence pass their time and spend
+their energies in beating the air, while their
+pupils are unimproved, except, perhaps, by the
+instruction of others.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“That is strange,” said Sophie.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You think it is. So a musical genius of
+acute ear wonders, until he understands how
+another of no ear can sing out of tune.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I can certainly teach easily and quickly
+everything that I know thoroughly, and some
+things that I do not know thoroughly, for sometimes
+when trying to explain to little Hagar a
+subject whose boundaries are indistinct to me, a
+gleam of light breaks into my mind, and all is
+clear to my vision—clear to its fullest extent,
+and my little pupil, at the end of her lesson, knows
+more than her teacher did at its commencement.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, and yet you, Sophie, stand merely
+upon the threshold of the temple of knowledge,
+and can do what some of the high priests of the
+altar would fail in attempting. Thus a teacher’s
+efficiency should be judged not by his own reputation
+for natural intelligence or acquired
+knowledge, but by his ability to convey the
+same to his pupils, to be tested by the actual progress
+of his pupils. If people would only follow
+the natural bent of their faculties, how
+much swindling, cheating, idleness, humbuggery,
+hypocrisy, <em>misery</em> would be saved; had <em>I</em> done
+so how much—”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He stopped and bit his lip.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Your pupils at first will be the youngest
+children of the congregation who are old enough
+to attend school. While instructing them you
+will be cultivating your own mind and adding
+to your stores of information; in this latter
+part of the plan I shall assist you, Miss Churchill.
+It will give me pleasure to be your teacher, for
+though I have no particular vocation for the
+profession, yet as it is so much easier to teach a
+grown person than a child, for in the former
+case the pupil meets one more than half way,
+and in the latter case one has to go <em>all</em> the way
+and charm the pupil <em>out and on</em>, I shall have
+no great trouble with you. And by next year
+you will be able to take a more advanced class
+of young ladies.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Then with Sophie he explored the ruinous
+apartments on the other side of the hall, selected
+the old disused drawing-room as the future
+school-room, and saying that he would send
+carpenters and plasterers over in the morning,
+he withdrew.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The next morning a carpenter, a plasterer,
+and a glazier came, and they came every day
+for a fortnight, and at the end of that time the
+boarded up, close, dark old drawing-room looked
+large, lightsome, and clean. In another week
+the school furniture arrived—a nice little mahogany
+desk for the teacher, and a dozen stained
+and varnished pine forms for the pupils.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>And now behold Sophie Churchill in her favorite
+sober brown silk dress, with her smoothly braided
+brown hair, seated at her desk presiding
+over her school, her large soft brown eyes floating
+serenely over the scene. Now no more
+ennui, now quickly fled the day, now pleasantly
+passed the week—the month. Is it a wonder
+that Sophie cherished in her heart a warm sentiment
+of gratitude towards the man who had
+wrought this favorable change in her life? The
+circle of her existence was vastly enlarged.
+Every Friday evening a horse and side-saddle
+would be sent by some one of her patrons to
+convey her to their house, where she was ever
+warmly welcomed, a loved and honored guest,
+to remain until Monday morning recalled her to
+her school duties. Once or twice during the
+week Emily May would accompany Gusty to
+school, and remain all day assisting Sophie at
+her labor. Nearly every evening now the pastor
+came, and gave her lessons in Greek and
+mathematics. Sophie felt so little “vocation”
+for these severe studies that nothing but the implacable
+will of her minister could have kept
+her to it. Worse than anything in her experience
+she dreaded his frown and his sure and
+stern rebuke when she had not accomplished
+her task—worse than anything except the
+steady searching gaze of his coldly brilliant
+green-grey eyes. <em>This</em> froze the blood in her
+heart. And yet she felt grateful towards him;
+she blamed herself for her antipathy—her reason
+assured her that the <em>fault</em> was not in <em>him</em>,
+but the <em>folly</em> in <em>herself</em>. Her reason approved
+the pastor, the philosopher, the teacher—her instincts
+shrank from the man. With all this
+there was sometimes something strangely fascinating
+for her, even in his coldness, hardness,
+and harshness—a feeling, that if some element,
+she knew not what, were absent from his character,
+she might then meet his friendship—that
+something in utter discord with her own soul—that
+something that, speaking through his green-grey
+eyes, chilled and repelled her. Affairs were in
+this state when one Friday morning, early in
+June, Master Gusty May, on entering the school-room,
+marched up to the teacher’s desk with an
+air of importance, and handed her a note. It
+was from Mrs. May, and ran thus:—</p>
+
+<p class='c014'>“Dearest Sophie, do return with Gusty this evening.
+I have sent a pillion, and you can ride behind him.
+There are to be grand doings at Grove Cottage this evening.
+Kitty is beating eggs; and I am stoning raisins—all
+this in honor of the expected arrival of Lieutenant
+Augustus H. Wilde, United States Navy. My dear
+brother Gusty, his ship has arrived at the Navy Yard at
+Norfolk—he has received his promotion, and writes
+that he will be with me this evening. Wear your <em>new</em>
+brown silk dress, Sophie, for I want you to make a
+conquest of Master Gusty, Senior, so that we can keep
+him here while he is on shore. And I want <em>him</em> to cut
+the minister out, <em>too</em>, although the whole country says
+it will be such a ‘marvellous proper’ match—that is,
+between you and the minister. Come.</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-r c015'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>EMILY.”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>There was another horse and side-saddle
+brought by another pupil to carry Sophie home
+with him that evening, but when school was
+dismissed, Master Gusty (junior, as we must
+call him now) marched up to the bringer of the
+rival nag, and told the “fellow” that Miss
+Churchill was going home with <em>him</em>, and that he
+had better carry his “beast” back again.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>During their ride to the Grove, Gusty informed
+Miss Churchill that he was named after his
+uncle, Augustus Wilde, that the latter was just
+made a lieutenant, and that he was going to try
+to procure a midshipman’s warrant for <em>him</em> when
+he was a little bigger. They arrived at the
+Grove at sunset. Lieutenant Wilde was already
+there, and came out gallantly to lift Sophie from
+her horse—she had never seen him before, and
+as he came from the cottage door down the
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_25'>25</span>long grape-vine covered walk to the gate where
+her horse stood, she thought he was strikingly
+like his sister, the same silky black hair, the same
+dark grey eyes—he approached, addressed her
+freely and cheerfully as his sister’s familiar
+friend, and in lifting her off the pillion their eyes
+met—their <em>eyes</em> met, their <em>souls</em> met. The soul
+more or less plainly speaks through the eyes,
+and I believe that ever the truest, purest,
+strongest, and most lasting love begins with the
+first meeting of the eyes, in a sort of mutual
+recognition. Involuntarily his voice softened to
+its lowest, sweetest tones in addressing her, and
+tenderly, most tenderly he arranged her riding
+habit as he stood her on the ground, and then
+drawing her arm through his own, he gently led
+her up the grape walk to the house. Emily
+received her at the door with a hearty kiss, and
+telling her that she looked unusually charming,
+led her into the house. The pastor was within,
+of course. Emily’s parlor glittered with its
+clean, sober, drab-colored glory. The evening
+passed delightfully, between Emily’s music,
+Sophie’s songs, and the young lieutenant’s sea-stories,
+anecdotes, and adventures. The pastor
+alone was silent and moody. Never had Sophie
+Churchill passed so delightful an evening. With
+strangers generally, Sophie was as shy as the
+wild fawn of her native woods, and her large
+eyes would startle and dilate if she was addressed
+by any one, yet now those wild shy eyes were
+ever roving after another pair. As yet she was
+utterly unconscious of this truantism. At last
+they met that other pair, and she—<em>blushed, and
+looked down? No!</em> That belongs to a more
+sophisticated, a more conventional being than
+our wild fawn of the Heath. No—a glad,
+innocent, unconscious smile broke over her face.
+There was one present who watched her with a
+dark and lowering brow. Happily Sophie did
+not perceive the evil eye glowering under it.
+The evening closed. She retired to rest with an
+elevated and happy heart. She and Emily slept
+together in the same old room—the minister
+occupied his own chamber alone, for Emily did
+not like to thrust her brother in upon him. So
+after everybody was gone to rest, Emily prepared
+a sofa bed in the parlor for her brother.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Emily! Emily! she is charming, charming!”
+said the young man, as his sister stooped to
+receive his good night kiss.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“That she is, Gusty! Charming! and I am
+glad you find her so. Good-night.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“He loves you, darling—he loves you <em>dearly</em>,
+<em>sweet</em> darling,” said Emily, hugging her friend
+to her bosom, “and I am so glad.”</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER VII.<br> <span class='c009'>YOUNG LOVE.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line in22'>“So gaze met gaze,</div>
+      <div class='line'>And heart saw heart, translucid through the rays,</div>
+      <div class='line'>One same, harmonious, universal law,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Atom to atom, star to star can draw,</div>
+      <div class='line'>And heart to heart! Swift darts, as from the sun,</div>
+      <div class='line'>The strong attraction, and the charm is done.”</div>
+      <div class='line in32'><span class='sc'>The New Timon.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>It was such a beautiful morning, such a holiday
+seeming morning—the green foliage all
+sparkling with dew in the rays of the early sun, the
+air vocal, noisy with all sorts of merry sounds,
+cheerful household sounds, gay woodland music,
+the crowing of roosters, the cackling of hens, and
+above all, the merry, merry, merry bursts
+of melody from the birds. Augustus Wilde and
+Sophie Churchill sat in the vine-clad porch of
+Grove Cottage. (Emily was in the dining-room
+washing up her breakfast things, and the
+minister was writing his sermon in his room.)</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Do you know, Miss Churchill, that I am
+perpetually in danger of offending against the
+rules of etiquette, and calling you Sophie, as my
+sister calls you. Whenever I turn to address
+you, ‘Sophie’ springs to my lips. I warn you
+of it that you may not be offended when it
+comes—why, ‘Sophie’—it just suits you—such
+a little shy fawn as you are—in every soft wave
+of your brown hair, in every floating beam of
+your tender eyes, in every fold of your sober
+dress ‘Sophie’ is revealed. I must call you
+Sophie.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>They were sitting on the bench with their
+backs against the open window of Emily’s bedroom
+(the little chamber on the left front,
+that I have described). He now felt his ears
+grasped from behind and his head well shaken.
+Sophie raised her eyes and saw the white dress,
+black curls, and merry face of his sister stooping
+from the window over him.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Sophie, is it? Impudence! Well, Sophie,
+let him call you what he will—but don’t you call
+him Augustus—there is nothing august about
+him, call him ‘Gusty,’ or ‘Gusty Wilde,’ for
+look you!” said she, pulling back his head, and
+kissing his brow, “there is so much latent
+strength and fire in this young man’s veins that
+it is extremely apt to break out in storms—just
+watch him in controversy with Mr. Withers—the
+sudden anger will dart from his eyes like a
+spring lancet from its sheath!” She shook him
+again, and let him go.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! the atrocious medical simile!—like
+‘lightning from a mountain cloud,’ you meant.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Like a pea from a pop-gun, more likely.
+Now, Miss Churchill, he said your air and manner
+<em>revealed</em> ‘Sophie’—very well—every glance,
+and start, and spring, every interjection and
+exclamation in his looks, gestures, and conversation
+<em>exposes</em> ‘Gusty Wilde.’”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Now</em>, Miss Churchill, do you believe that?”
+inquired he, with mock seriousness.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, I am sure—” began Sophie.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You are sure of nothing—he is on his good
+behavior now; wait and see. But that is not
+what I broke in upon you for, Mr. Wilde—I
+have come to invite you and Miss Churchill to
+ride with me this morning. We will borrow
+the parson’s gig, and come, I will be good.
+You shall drive Sophie, and I will ride FireFly,
+my pony. Come, run, Sophie, smoothe
+your hair, it is a little blown about by the breeze,
+and put on your bonnet. And <em>you</em>, Master
+Lieutenant, be so kind as to don your undress uniform
+at least—what is the good of having a brother
+in the Navy, if he dress like an undertaker at a
+funeral? Come! I want to show you off;
+I want to get half the girls in the neighborhood
+in love with you. Dear me! Am I not rich
+just now? Two beaux—the best of beaux for
+a country neighborhood—a preacher and an
+officer. Mercy! I shouldn’t wonder if my
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_26'>26</span>house became the resort of all the merry maidens
+and manœuvring mammas in —— county.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>They made many calls that day before returning
+to a late dinner. The last house they
+called at was Mrs. Gardiner Green’s, where
+they were received and entertained by that lady
+and her pretty daughter Rose.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The next day was Sunday, and they all went
+to church. Lieutenant Wilde sat between his
+sister and Miss Churchill in the front pew;
+there was an expression of serious joy upon the
+faces of the youth and maiden never seen there
+before—the minister, perhaps, never was less
+happy in his written sermon or its delivery, than
+upon this occasion. He had brought Sophie to
+church in his gig; at the close of the service he
+took her home to the Grove.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The afternoon and evening passed pleasantly.
+Early the next morning Sophie returned to
+Heath Hall, to recommence her school duties.
+That day passed as usual; in the evening after
+tea, Sophie sat by the open window; it was a
+beautiful starlight night, and she delayed ordering
+lights, preferring to enjoy the cool night air,
+and listen to the pleasant night sounds by the
+open window. Presently a tall dark figure
+passed before the window, and in another moment
+the minister had entered and was by her
+side.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Good evening, Miss Churchill.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Good evening, Mr. Withers.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He took a seat by her side, and sat with his
+head bowed upon his hands that rested upon the
+top of a stick held between his knees; he was
+silent a long time; at last Sophie arose to order
+lights.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Where are you going, Miss Churchill?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“To have candles brought.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Sit still, Miss Churchill.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie resumed her seat.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You have had a very pleasant visit to the
+Grove, Miss Churchill?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Very, sir.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Humph! you were very much pleased with
+Mr. Wilde?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, sir.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Ah! that is very candid. But do you think,
+Miss Churchill, that I can altogether approve of
+the marked preference shown by a young lady
+in your circumstances for a young gentleman?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie looked bewildered, dismayed. The
+poor girl, naturally timid, had been made quite
+cowardly by the misconceptions, misconstructions,
+and misrepresentations of others; she
+grew pale, and replied with a faltering voice—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I—I did not know—I knew—I know that
+my profession would seem to require more
+steadiness, gravity, and circumspection than I
+possess—but I was unconscious of any—”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Her voice faltered, broke down, and she stopped
+short, and burst into tears. He answered
+sternly—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You know very well, Miss Churchill, that
+it is not your ‘profession’ I speak of. What
+can <em>that</em> be thought to have to do with your
+preferences? No, Miss Churchill, you know
+very well that I allude to the relations subsisting
+between us.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“The relations subsisting between us?” faltered
+Sophie.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You certainly cannot successfully affect
+ignorance of a fact with which the whole county
+is acquainted, though it may <em>now</em> seem convenient
+for you to attempt it.” He paused.
+“Well, Miss Churchill?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I do not understand you at all, sir.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Then all the county understands and have
+understood for two months past, that we are to
+be married soon, Miss Churchill.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, my God, no! You never dreamed—<em>I</em>
+never dreamed of that! Oh, no! I had rather
+<em>die</em>! Oh! God knows I had!” exclaimed
+Sophie, wildly, clasping her hands and rising.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He caught her hand, and pressed her trembling
+into her seat again.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Your aversion to me is certainly flattering—<em>very</em>
+flattering, Miss Churchill—but it is rather
+late <em>now</em> to express it. You have received my
+visits nightly for three months past—and now,
+to-night, for the first time, you express a strong
+and utter aversion to me.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, because <em>I couldn’t help it</em>! How could
+I help your coming here—how can I help this
+aversion I feel—pardon me if I have expressed
+it strongly. I have a high respect for you, and
+I ought to feel honored by your preference—any
+woman in the parish would. You are too good—too
+wise for me, believe me you are! I am a
+child—a fool! Oh! don’t think of it! <em>pray</em>
+don’t think of it! Consider how many ladies—ladies
+of family and fortune—would be proud
+to wed the minister; who would throw himself
+away upon a poor, lone girl, without connexions,
+and without influence!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie had risen in her earnestness, and stood
+before him with her clasped hands.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He closed his eyes and smiled; he stretched
+forth his hand, and taking hers, drew her again
+to her seat, and passed his arm around her waist
+and whispered—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“My little Sophie, my little fawn, you shall
+be Mrs. Withers in three weeks, just as sure as
+you live!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She shrank from the clasp of his arm, as
+though it had been the clammy coil of a serpent.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I will not! cannot! durst not! Mr. Withers,
+why don’t you marry Rose Green? She would
+have you; or Mrs. Somerville, or Mrs. Slye, or
+Mrs. Joshua Eversham, or Miss Polly Mortimer—any
+of them would have, would be proud to
+marry the minister of the parish.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I know that, Miss Churchill!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And any of these ladies would make you
+a good wife.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I do not doubt it, Miss Churchill.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Then why don’t you marry one of them?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Because they are each ready to fall into my
+arms.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie was wounded and became silent—she
+attempted to withdraw herself from the embrace
+of his arm, but every attempt was punished by
+a tighter fold.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Miss Churchill, do you know that there is
+an instinct in human nature—to speak more correctly,
+in <em>man’s</em> nature, or in speaking <em>most</em> correctly,
+perhaps I should say in <em>my own</em> nature—to
+pursue that which <em>flies</em>? Why, Sophie, when
+I was a lad, I always preferred to play with
+kittens that were scarey and spiteful, that would
+kick, scratch, and bite, that would resist to the
+death rather than with one that would cosily
+and quietly nestle down in my lap—the latter I
+should have shaken off.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But how,” said Sophie, “if the poor kitten
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_27'>27</span>neither resisted nor caressed you—shrank and
+shivered and died in your hands?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I should not give the weak thing a chance,
+Sophie; when the shrinking and shivering commenced,
+I should throw it heavily upon the
+ground, and thereby kill it.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie shuddered.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Both were silent for some time; then he
+spoke—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What day, Miss Churchill, between this and
+the first of next month will it please you to bestow
+upon me the honor of your hand?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No day! no day! Don’t look at me so,
+Mr. Withers, pray don’t; it makes me ill—<em>pray
+don’t</em>—I am a mere girl, a mere child; it frightens
+me, this idea of marrying you—indeed, believe
+me, it does!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Come! Miss Churchill, come! This will
+not do—this fickleness and unfaithfulness on
+your part will not answer; I cannot permit it.
+I thought the footing we stood upon in relation
+to each other well understood; you certainly
+could <em>not</em> have misinterpreted the meaning of
+my visits here; no one else has misconceived
+them. Mrs. Gardiner Green inquired of me to-day
+when our marriage was to come off. I told
+her that it would take place some time this
+month, that I would apprise her of the exact
+day to-morrow. It is for the purpose of ascertaining
+your day that I have called this evening.
+Come, Sophie, satisfy me upon this point.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I cannot! I cannot! God <em>knows</em> I cannot!
+Oh! <em>Why</em> do you persist in this? Why!
+why love a girl who is in no respect, of age,
+mind, education, or wealth, your equal?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Fiddlestick! have I said I loved you? No,
+Sophie, thank God I have never yet been, never,
+I trust, shall be, under the influence of that most
+weak and puerile passion.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Then, in the name of reason and of mercy,
+why seek to marry a girl whom you do not
+love, and who hates—no, does not <em>hate</em>, but
+who fears and recoils from you?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Precisely because she <em>does</em> fear and recoil
+from me!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I will not marry you, then! I will not
+marry you then! please God to give me strength.
+Surely I am a free girl; no one has a right, or
+will attempt, or could succeed in forcing my inclinations.
+Come, I will be firm, and nothing
+can compel me!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But destiny. You are in a net of circumstances
+from whence there is no escape, Sophie
+Churchill. Do not struggle, you will lacerate
+your limbs and waste your strength only to entangle
+yourself the more.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Again silence ensued. Sophie continued from
+time to time to try to extricate herself from his
+grasp, each attempt but serving to rivet his arm
+about her waist—at last he said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“The embrace of my arm is an emblem of
+the surrounding of your fate; you can as easily
+escape the one as the other.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie burst into tears, and wept long and
+freely. He did not attempt to soothe or even to
+speak to her. At last her fit of grief and terror
+exhausted itself, and she became calm. Then
+she said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, I might have guessed all this sorrow
+from the first time I ever met your eye!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Flattering again!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The clock struck. Sophie struggled.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Mr. Withers, it is ten o’clock.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, Miss Churchill, I only wait my
+answer to return home.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I have given you the only one I can give—take
+it again. I cannot give myself to you.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Then I can take you, that’s all, Sophie.
+Mrs. Gardiner Green will call upon you to-morrow,”
+and so saying, he arose and took his
+leave.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>When left alone Sophie paced uneasily up
+and down the floor, saying, as she clasped her
+temples—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Am I mad or going mad? am I dreaming?
+Under a spell? Oh, <em>what</em> is this? What is
+this closing around me like irresistible destiny?
+Why cannot I awake, arouse from this? I know
+I’m free; <em>why</em> can’t I use my freedom? What
+a spell, what a mystery, what a horror! Oh!
+my Heavenly Father! If I could awake! I
+lose my free will! Oh, fate! fate! fate! thy hand
+is on me, and there is no resisting it!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Thus the pinions of her weak will fluttered
+in the iron grasp of a strong and implacable
+one.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER VIII.<br> <span class='c009'>THE PHANTOM’S WARNING.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“Let me gaze for a moment that e’er I die</div>
+      <div class='line'>I may read thee, lady, a prophecy,</div>
+      <div class='line'>That brow may beam in glory awhile,</div>
+      <div class='line'>That cheek may bloom and that lip may smile,</div>
+      <div class='line'>But clouds shall darken that brow of snow,</div>
+      <div class='line'>And sorrow blight that bosom’s glow.”</div>
+      <div class='line in28'><span class='sc'>Miss L. Davidson.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>Scarcely was the school dismissed the next
+evening, before the carriage of Mrs. Gardiner
+Green drew up before the door. The liveried
+footman of Mrs. Gardiner Green descended from
+behind and opened the door and let down the
+steps, and Mrs. Gardiner Green hereby alighted
+and entered the hall. Sophie received the pompous
+lady at the door; Mrs. Gardiner Green
+took the poor girl in her arms and kissed her,
+then <em>conducted</em> rather than followed her into
+the parlor. They sat down. After a little
+preliminary conversation the lady began:</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“My dearest Miss Churchill, I have come at
+the suggestion of our mutual friend and reverend
+pastor, Mr. Withers, to offer you any aid or
+advice that the present crisis of your circumstances
+may demand. Now no blushing, my
+dear Miss Churchill; look upon me as a mother—as
+a sister,” said the lady, quickly correcting
+herself. “In short, Miss Churchill, I have
+come to propose that you be married from our
+house.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Now this was said so coolly, taking the premises
+so much as a matter of course, that Sophie,
+poor cowardly Sophie, had nothing at first to
+say.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The lady went on with her proposals, entering
+into all the details of wedding dresses, bridesmaids,
+brides-cake, and a vast deal of matronly
+information and advice. At last Sophie could
+bear it no longer; she arose nervously from her
+seat and turned to the window, every limb trembling,
+and her voice faltering as she said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I am not going to be married to Mr.
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_28'>28</span>Withers, Mrs. Green—I am very sorry everybody
+seems to think so—it is not true—will you
+do me the favor to contradict it wherever you
+may hear it?” And now she turned towards
+her. Mrs. Gardiner Green looked perfectly
+aghast; she evidently knew her part.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Then, Miss Churchill, as your mother’s
+oldest friend, may I ask,—<em>what</em> is the meaning
+of the minister’s nightly visits to you?—for
+know, Miss Churchill, that unless they portend
+marriage, not even his sacred cloth will <em>prevent</em>,
+but rather <em>augment</em> the scandal that will ensue.
+Miss Churchill, I would not for the world that
+any thoughtless or malicious person should hear
+you say what you have just said; but, Miss
+Churchill, again I ask you—why have you permitted
+his nightly visits for three months past?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I could not help it—<em>how</em> could I help it?—should
+I have thought of telling our minister to
+keep away? I thought whatever our minister
+said or did was right, and could not be misconstrued,
+or I am afraid, I am <em>sure</em>, that until now,
+I never thought about it.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, Sophie, that is it—<em>you never thought
+about it</em>—your thoughtlessness in permitting the
+visits of gentlemen in your unprotected condition
+had already nearly mined you, when the kindness
+and candor of Mr. Withers rescued you
+from the neglect and obscurity into which you
+had fallen; and now his very kindness will
+through your thoughtlessness be converted into a
+greater misfortune to you and himself, that is, if
+you do not marry him; but of course you will
+do so, Sophie.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie Churchill was sitting before her; the
+palms of her hands pressed together; her eyes
+raised imploringly to the countenance of the
+lady.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie was utterly unconscious of this attitude
+of supplication. It was the involuntary
+appeal of a weak will to a stronger one.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! I never can—I <em>never can</em> marry that
+man—death—<em>death</em> would be better.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yet, Miss Churchill, you have seemed to
+speak sometimes as if you took pleasure in his
+society.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“When he reads or converses I like to hear,
+or <em>have</em> liked—I shall never like it again; but
+if his eye runs from his book and fixes on my
+face—I—oh!—I can’t tell you, but at the very
+idea of marrying him I grow deadly sick and
+faint.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Mrs. Gardiner Green, with her obtuse sensibilities,
+did not understand this, but she answered
+coldly—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“There is no one to compel you to do justice
+to Mr. Withers, Miss Churchill—no one to force
+your inclinations in any way; still, as your mother’s
+friend, I must advise you to bring no reproach
+upon her memory by your lightness of
+conduct; as your brother’s friend I must entreat
+you not to injure the prospects of his young
+daughter by your selfishness; and as the friend
+of Mr. Withers, I must conjure you not to destroy
+his usefulness by your fickleness and unfaithfulness.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She continued to talk, using all the arguments
+of a hard woman of the world, with a
+nervous, sensitive, and somewhat visionary girl,
+and at the end of two hours more, left Sophie very
+well prepared to receive, or <em>rather</em>, very incapable
+of resisting her destiny and her master. It was
+near sunset when the lady’s carriage rolled
+away from the door. When she was gone Sophie
+sank down on the steps of the piazza, and
+resting her elbows on her knees, dropped her
+face into the palms of her hands, and gave herself
+up to despair. She sat there until the sun went
+down—she sat until the stars came out—she sat
+there until she felt a light hand fall upon the top
+of her head. She looked up, and the phantom
+of the forest dell stood before her, the same
+wan, spectral face—the same large, intense,
+blue eyes, blazing in their hollow sockets, surrounded
+by their livid, bluish circle—the same
+streaming yellow hair, with its streaks of grey—the
+same emaciated claw-like fingers. Her intense
+gaze sought and met Sophie’s eyes, and
+she knew that her visitor was a denizen of
+earth. She remained gazing into Sophie’s eyes
+a minute, and then she broke forth with terrible
+energy:—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Do not marry him!</em>—risk—suffer <em>anything</em>
+but that! <em>Do not marry him!</em> Be true to your
+instincts—they warned you at your first meeting,
+they warn you <em>now</em>! Be true to your instincts!
+They were given you of God for your
+protection; it is a sin—it is a <em>sin</em> to disregard
+them, and the punishment—the punishment will
+be more than you can bear!—a broken heart!—a
+maddened brain!—at least—<em>at least</em> a
+blighted life! Look at me!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She tore the mantle from her breast and displayed
+a skeleton form, to which the tight skin
+clung.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Who are you, in the name of Heaven?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I <em>am</em> a shadow—a memory—a <em>warning</em>!
+I <em>was</em> his wife!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Great God!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie raised her eyes just in time to see the
+tall figure of the minister near the shadowy woman,
+and his strong hand fell upon her shoulder.
+He had approached unperceived. She shrieked—sprang
+from under his grasp, and fled towards
+the river. He looked after her in dismay, apparently
+with an impulse of pursuit. When she
+had disappeared over the cliff, and down the
+bank, he turned to Sophie.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Who is that woman, Sophie?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<span class='sc'>Your wife!</span>” said the girl, raising her eyes
+bravely now to meet his gaze.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You were always a little brainsick, Miss
+Churchill, but really this—or perhaps you are
+only jesting.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Do I look like jesting? Is yonder unfortunate
+a subject for jest?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Then you are clearly insane—moon-struck
+as your lunatic visitor. Pray can you tell me
+what put such an extravagant idea into your
+head?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Her own word.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Her own word—the mad fancy of a maniac!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“At least, Mr. Withers, you will not think
+of pressing your suit, or even renewing a single
+visit, after such a revelation.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Will I not? I have two urgent duties to
+perform now—one is to seek that lunatic, and
+have her taken care of; the other to hasten our
+marriage, Sophie, that everything seems to endanger,
+from naval officers to strolling maniacs.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“She is your wife!—I know she is! Every
+glance into your face deepens the conviction I
+feel.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_29'>29</span>“Do you not know that I lost my wife while
+living in the North?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You lost her, but how?—by <em>death</em>? Possessions
+and persons are lost sometimes, and
+<em>found</em> again. Nothing but the grave is inexorable.
+Come, has the grave inclosed your
+wife?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Insulting! insolent! Take care, Sophie,
+you are heaping up wrath against a day of
+wrath.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>You are!</em> Were this incident known in
+the neighborhood—”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You would be laughed to scorn for your
+credulity. <em>Nonsense</em>, Sophie! Were the letters
+I brought here of so little weight?—was the
+approbation, the warm friendship of the venerable
+and sainted May, of such little worth, that
+the fancies of a moon-struck woman should be
+able to injure me, or should change my views
+and purposes towards you? Come, Sophie, it
+is best that you understand me. <em>I have no
+wife.</em> I assure you, upon my honor—my untarnished
+truth, Sophie, that I have no wife, and
+I <em>must</em> have you! Your hand is the <em>one</em> thing
+that I wish on earth, and I <em>must, must</em> have it—<em>will</em>
+have it.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie was weeping bitterly. He stooped
+down, took her chin in his hand, and raised her
+tearful face, then sat beside her, and said, more
+gently than he had yet spoken—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Come, Sophie Churchill, I am no hypocrite,
+no villain, and God knows it. I have been the
+most unfortunate and the most injured man,
+perhaps, that ever lived; and some day, when
+you are prepared for it, you shall know it. As
+for the woman, poor creature, she must be cared
+for; and now, lest you should perchance cherish
+in your heart another suspicion, which yet
+you would never breathe, I will volunteer to
+say that I have never wronged that woman—never,
+so help me Heaven! Dismiss her from
+your mind, Sophie, and tell me, has Mrs. Gardiner
+Green been to see you?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, sir,” murmured Sophie.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And between you, you settled the day for
+our marriage.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, sir, but—”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Never mind <em>but</em>—what day did you fix?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Mr. Withers, that is all over now—Mrs.
+Green, herself, if she knew—”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Never mind, my dear; what day <em>had</em> you
+fixed?</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Then we <em>had</em> fixed the fifteenth.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Thank you, Sophie!” and he sealed his
+thanks upon her lips, arose, and bidding her
+good night, left the spot.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER IX.<br> <span class='c009'>THE WANDERER’S DEATH.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“Oh, ask me not to speak her fate,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Oh, tempt me not to tell</div>
+      <div class='line'>The sin that made her desolate,—</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Passion she could not quell</div>
+      <div class='line'>Alas! the grave can only be</div>
+      <div class='line'>Fit refuge of her misery.”</div>
+      <div class='line in24'><span class='sc'>Anonymous.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>“Sophie, your cheeks are pale, and a livid
+blue circle surrounds your eyes; you do not look
+like yourself—you are ill; do not keep school
+to-day—give a holiday and rest.” These were
+the words addressed by Mrs. May to her friend
+on the day succeeding the events related in the
+last chapter. She had ridden over, attended by
+Augustus Wilde, to spend the day with Sophie
+and help her to teach. They were standing in
+the school-room just before calling the pupils.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, Miss Churchill, <em>do</em> give a holiday to-day
+for my sake, as well as for your own,” said
+Lieutenant Augustus, setting his cap and riding-whip
+down upon the desk. “On Thursday my
+week’s leave of absence expires. This is the
+last day I shall have an opportunity of spending
+with you, and you look weary from confinement
+and work; everything points to a holiday—come!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie smiled a sickly smile, and said she
+was very well.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But I do not think so, and I never believe a
+<em>smile</em> unless the <em>eyes</em> smile, too,” said Emily;
+“now <em>I</em> am going to give a holiday;” and so
+saying, she went into the yard, called the children
+together by a bell, and told them to go
+home, for there was to be no school that day.
+Sophie Churchill was ever too yielding, and
+now, in the languor of dejection, she made no
+opposition.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Now, Sophie, we will go a fishing,” said
+Mrs. May, as she returned after dismissing the
+children, “the fresh air off the bay will revive you.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And I, Miss Churchill, feel very anxious for
+a forenoon’s frolic on the waters, if that is any
+argument,” said Lieutenant Gusty, and he sought
+Sophie’s eyes; but <em>they</em> were bent upon the
+ground, or, when raised, their intelligence, their
+light, their sympathy for <em>him</em> was gone. He
+<em>felt</em> this, and his heart sank. Had he offended
+her? and how? He wished to speak to her, or
+to his sister apart, and ask the reason, but he
+could not speak to either upon the subject, in the
+presence of the other. It is a feature in human
+sympathy, that one may be in company with
+two equally loved and trusted friends, to <em>either</em>
+of whom <em>apart</em>, one would confide the secret
+that oppresses—for there is a feeling of security,
+exclusiveness, sacredness, between <em>two</em> friends
+conversing, that is lost when a <em>third</em>, however
+equally dear to both, enters in—the electric cord
+of full sympathy and confidence has but <em>two</em>
+ends. The Jesuits understand this, for by a
+statute of their order it is forbidden that less
+than <em>three</em> members go apart, or converse
+together. Now, Augustus Wilde felt this without
+reasoning upon it.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Miss Churchill put on her bonnet, and they
+were soon down upon the beach under the
+promontory; the gravelly beach was clean and
+cool, and the waters blue and clear, and
+sparkling in the beams of the early sun, and all
+the golden clouds were reflected on their bosom.
+The little skiff was soon unmoored and they
+were out upon the bay; as they receded from
+the shore, Lieutenant Wilde stood up and turned
+to look upon the promontory, or rather peak,
+surmounted by the old hall; his eye rested a
+moment upon the towering object, and then
+wandered down to where the promontory
+descended into the heath, and further on, where
+the heath flattened into the moor. He had just
+said, while gazing on the scene, “I am no agriculturist,
+Miss Churchill, yet I never saw what
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_30'>30</span><em>I</em> think to be so fine an estate in all the gifts of
+nature as this—the moor with its wild fowl, the
+river and the bay with their fish and their oyster-banks,
+the forest in the background with its wood
+and its game—it is inconceivable how the
+property has been suffered to—” and then he
+stopped, started, and gazed at an object on the
+water between them and the land—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What is the matter, Augustus?” said Emily,
+attempting to rise. He pushed her down into
+her seat again, while he continued to gaze upon
+the floating object as it was borne upon the
+waves towards the beach.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What is the matter, Augustus? What are
+you looking at; one would think you saw a
+shark.” And now Sophie’s brown eyes were
+raised in silent inquiry.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Augustus sat down, muttering “Nothing,
+nothing,” and pulled for a distant part of the
+shore, about midway the heath, between the
+promontory and the moor.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Are you going to land?” asked Emily.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Be quiet, will you,” muttered he, pinching
+her arm and glancing at Sophie, who had
+relapsed into her abstraction.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Not until they had nearly reached the beach,
+had Sophie noticed their altered course; then
+she looked up and inquired, “Where are you
+going? Why this is not a good place to fish.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Lieutenant Wilde answered, “We think we
+have made it too late in the morning—that the
+sun is too high and too hot for you, Miss
+Churchill; and we think we will return to the
+hall.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie remonstrated, declared she felt no ill
+effects from the heat, &#38;c.; but was overruled as
+usual. Emily now asserting that she felt the
+rays of the sun too strong, they landed and
+walked to the hall. When they reached the
+parlor, Emily <em>purposely</em> removed her bonnet and
+scarf <em>there</em>, and Sophie taking them, carried
+them up stairs to put away. When she had left
+the room,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Now</em>, I followed your lead in coming home—tell
+me <em>why</em> you came; what was the matter
+with you—what did you see on the water?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You told me that Miss Churchill was very
+nervous and sensitive, did you not?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I told you, that of late she is—naturally
+Sophie has a strong mind.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, Emily, the object I saw upon the
+water was a dead body.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Merciful Heaven! are you <em>sure</em>?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Certain.</em> I saw it distinctly—it was being
+wafted towards the beach.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Heavenly Father! some poor negro, out
+fishing, drunk perhaps, fell overboard.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No; a woman scantily clothed, with streaming
+yellow hair clinging wet around her swollen
+limbs. I am sure the body is by this time cast
+upon the beach.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“A woman with streaming yellow hair,” said
+Emily, as the memory of Sophie’s vision in the
+dell crossed her mind. “Can we, Augustus,
+get away from Sophie in any way, and go down
+to the beach?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“We must make an excuse of some sort,”
+said Augustus.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>His purpose was forestalled—for at that
+moment the handsome blue carriage and grey
+horses of Mrs. Gardiner Green stopped before
+the door; and the lofty lady alighted and
+entered the house. “How do you do, Mrs.
+May—and Lieutenant Wilde—well, this is
+delightful. I am so happy to see you. I must
+positively have you at the Glade to-morrow
+evening, to meet a few friends—quite an <em>improvised</em>
+little affair; but where is Miss Churchill?
+I am enacting ‘mamma’ to that young lady
+just at the present crisis; and this morning I
+wish a private interview with her.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Emily seized this chance—and calling to
+little Hagar, sent her for Miss Churchill. When
+Sophie entered the room, she arose, and leaving
+Mrs. Green to explain her departure, took her
+brother’s arm, and saying that she would return
+in half an hour, threw her handkerchief over her
+head and strolled out into the yard; then
+quickening their steps, they hastened towards the
+peak. Descending the cliff by a circuitous path,
+they reached the beach; and there, immediately
+under the point of the promontory, they decried
+an object that, upon nearer approach, they found
+to be the dead body of a woman. Emily May,
+pale with awe, knelt down to examine the
+body—her brother stood in silence by her
+side. From its extreme emaciation, the body,
+unlike those of most drowned persons, was not
+much swollen, but lay slender and extended at
+length—the arms confined to the waist, and the
+slight limbs bound together by the winding and
+clinging of the long yellow hair, that in beating
+about the waters had got twisted around her.
+With trembling fingers Emily removed the tress
+of hair that, wet and sticking to her face, partly
+concealed the features. She gazed earnestly and
+sadly upon the extinguished lamp of that dead
+countenance—the blue-white complexion, the
+thin sharpened features, the round forehead
+polished and shining, from very emaciation, the
+ultra-marine blue eyes, stony and swollen—the
+small elegant nose, with its delicate and half-transparent
+nostril—the short and beautifully
+curved upper lip, drawn up now blue and stiff,
+and exposing the little pearly teeth—and lastly,
+the long fine golden hair with its few commingling
+threads of silver—the extremely small and
+slender hands, thin now as birds’ claws—the
+little naked foot, with its curved hollow and
+proud high instep.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Who <em>can</em> she be?” asked Augustus; “do
+you know, Emily?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>His sister shook her head; she was thinking
+of the vision seen by Sophie in the forest dell,
+but she deemed it best to be silent upon that
+subject at present. There was a small house
+under the shadow of the promontory, in which
+sails, fishing-nets, and rods, &#38;c., were kept;
+into this house, for the present, Lieutenant Wilde
+conveyed the body, and locking the door, took
+possession of the key, and advising Emily to
+return to the hall, he went off to Churchill
+Point to summon the coroner.</p>
+
+<hr class='c013'>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Ridiculous, my dear! absurd, preposterous!
+<em>utterly</em> preposterous! A crazy woman wandering
+through the country, and saying that she is
+our minister’s wife! and you to believe it! I
+shall grow thoroughly ashamed of you, Miss
+Churchill. Why, don’t you know, my dear, that
+is always the way with these lunatic vagrants,
+to fancy themselves some great personage, <em>always</em>;
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_31'>31</span>all I wonder at, is that your maniac was
+so moderate—they are generally queens, nothing
+less will serve them; even old Suke Ennis, you
+know, is the President’s wife—and carries her
+bosom full of waste papers that she says are his
+letters. A strolling lunatic suddenly appears
+before you, in the full of the moon, announces
+herself as the wife of the most important man she
+knows of, flees away at his approach,—and <em>you</em>,
+upon the strength of her moon-struck madness,
+believe, or more probably <em>affect</em> to believe her
+insane statement; you grow ridiculous. Oh!
+do not, for <em>your own</em> reputation for good sense,
+mention this to any one else. I am <em>mortified</em> at
+you, <em>alarmed</em> for you.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>This was the manner in which Mrs. Gardiner
+Green received the news of Sophie’s strange
+visitor from Miss Churchill’s lips, when they had
+been left alone together.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I do not think that she was a lunatic,” said
+Sophie, seriously. “I thought she spoke sense,
+truth, sad, sorrowful truth.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘Sense,’ ‘truth,’ the maddest of them can
+speak sense and truth sometimes; but her very
+<em>statement</em> proves her lunacy—do not we all
+know better—don’t we know that the wife of
+Mr. Withers died two years ago?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I think that is an impression that has been
+generally received, but I think that the opinion
+has no good foundation in fact; now that my
+mind fixes itself upon the subject, I remember
+that in his letter to Mr. May, he speaks of the
+‘loss,’ never of the <em>death</em> of his wife.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! I have no <em>patience</em> with you! ‘Loss,’
+what could it have been but <em>death</em>! Think of
+Mr. May’s warm regard—but I will <em>not</em> argue
+with you upon this most injurious suspicion—it
+is an insult to Mr. Withers to hear or reply to
+such—pshaw! No, Miss Churchill, you have
+seized this, as the drowning catch at straws, to
+save you from fulfilling an engagement, which
+only since the arrival of this gay young officer
+has grown distasteful to you. But I tell you
+plainly, Sophie—Miss Churchill, I should say—that
+if you break this engagement, as you
+will not, I think, venture to do—I shall be
+obliged, however unwillingly, to abandon you.
+I have a daughter,” here the proud lady drew
+herself up,” and I must consult <em>her</em> interest
+before anything else. Rose Green loves you,
+Sophie Churchill, but if you wantonly trifle with
+your good name, I must sever you. Mrs. May,
+also, I think, could scarcely defy public opinion,
+by continuing her friendly intercourse with you.”
+Sophie Churchill was sitting with her face pale,
+her features rigid, her eyes fixed unconsciously
+upon her cold white fingers idly locked together
+on her lap; one or two large tears gathered in
+her set eyes, and slowly rolled down her cheeks.
+“Do not weep, Miss Churchill, if I talk to you
+plainly; it is to set things in a proper light before
+you; I speak to you as I would speak to Rose,
+under like circumstances. Your duty is very
+plain; the day of your marriage is fixed, go forward
+with the preparations for your wedding.
+I am here to lend you assistance, not to tolerate
+weakness, vacillation, and infidelity.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie remonstrated now no more; unresistingly
+she suffered the circle of destiny to close
+around her. More than the force of circumstances—more
+than the <em>strength</em> of others—more
+than our own <em>weakness</em> does our <em>indolence</em>
+leave us at the mercy of fate. Adverse
+external powers are at work upon us, surrounding
+us, contracting their circle upon us; we feel
+an inward reposing strength that, aroused, might
+struggle and overcome; but we are inert, we yield
+to their influence, they close upon us; we sigh,
+and call it <em>fate</em>. It was thus with Sophie
+Churchill. In vain the whisper of her true interests
+arose from the deeps of her soul, saying—“Speak!
+and break through this enchanted circle—<em>you</em>
+are right, <em>she</em> is wrong. Have faith in God,
+believe <em>yourself</em>, trust in the candor and friendship
+of Emily, in the intelligence, goodness, and
+<em>love</em>—yes, <em>love</em> of Augustus; awake! arise! and
+save yourself.” Alas! the voice was heard in
+vain. It could not be <em>stilled</em>, but it was not
+obeyed. Still sat she there with cold clasped
+hands and rigid features, letting fate encompass
+her, but feeling in her profoundest soul the painful
+consciousness that <em>she herself</em>, and not another,
+was making her own misery.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Emily May now entered, but Sophie was too
+much absorbed in her sorrow, Mrs. Green too
+much interested in the subject on hand, to notice
+the absence of Lieutenant Wilde, or the unusual
+seriousness of her countenance and manner.
+Emily silently took her seat, without mentioning
+the occurrence of the hour. With an instinctive
+fear of leaving Sophie alone with Emily then
+and there, Mrs. Gardiner Green dismissed her
+carriage and announced her intention of remaining
+the day, and of returning in the afternoon
+with Mrs. May. Emily observed the dejection
+of Sophie, but silently attributed it to ill health,
+weak nerves, &#38;c., and dwelt slightly upon
+the circumstance, her thoughts being engaged
+with the drowned woman then lying in the fish-house.</p>
+
+<hr class='c013'>
+
+<p class='c008'>That morning Mr. Withers had been requested,
+upon account of the sparse population, to form
+one of a coroner’s jury, to sit upon the case of a
+drowned <em>person</em>, at four o’clock in the afternoon,
+at Heath Hall. The hasty summons conveyed no
+further information. With a strange abstraction
+of mind he had not looked deeply into the subject
+of the note—and penning a hasty answer, he
+promised to be on the spot at the appointed
+hour.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The dinner-table had been cleared away at
+Heath Hall. Mrs. Gardiner Green had sustained
+the chief burden of the conversation all
+day. Lieutenant Wilde had not returned; and
+to the inquiry of Mrs. Green relative to his
+absence (which, by the way, she rejoiced in),
+Emily had replied that sudden business had recalled
+him to the village, and there the subject
+dropped. She still refrained from mentioning
+the occurrence of the morning. Then Mrs.
+Gardiner Green, taking advantage of the momentary
+absence of Miss Churchill, informed Mrs.
+May that the marriage day of her dear young
+friend Sophie Churchill with Mr. Withers, was
+fixed for the fifteenth of the current month; that
+thus it would take place in little more than a
+week from that day—that the ceremony would
+be performed at her house, &#38;c., &#38;c. Emily
+received this information with pain and surprise,
+but was prevented replying by the re-entrance of
+Sophie. She was no longer at a loss to guess
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_32'>32</span>the reason of Miss Churchill’s ill looks; she
+turned her head away, for her heart was swelling
+and her eyes were filling with tears. They were
+engaged then, she thought. Well! well! she
+had hoped it would have been otherwise, but
+they were engaged—the marriage near at hand.
+As Emily looked from the window she started
+on observing a small cavalcade approaching the
+house, and muttering to herself—“Oh! how
+thoughtless, how careless of Augustus,” went out
+to meet it. It was the dead body of the drowned
+woman borne along on a litter. “Oh, <em>why</em> have
+you done this, Augustus?” she asked of her
+brother, as the litter was set down in front of the
+piazza.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why, I could not very well prevent it,” said
+he, pointing to the two or three old country
+magistrates in the train, “besides Miss Churchill
+cannot be shocked at what she is prepared to
+see—you have surely informed her?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, I have not; I should have done so,
+could I have guessed that they would have
+brought the body here.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why, dearest Emily, this was the nearest
+house, the coroner’s inquest was appointed to
+meet here, also.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Emily May requested them to pause with the
+body until she could go in and announce their
+arrival to the mistress of the mansion. She need
+not have feared for Sophie’s nerves <em>then</em>. When
+we are in deep trouble we are in excellent order
+to receive <em>bad</em> news; it does not shock us, little
+can shock us when in sorrow, except joy. Let
+me illustrate, when we are already <em>cold</em> we
+can bear a <em>cool</em> draught. Sophie gave her consent
+almost indifferently for the corpse to be
+brought in, and the three ladies withdrew to the
+upper story. In another quarter of an hour it
+was laid out in the parlor. Emily had dropped
+no hint to Sophie of her suspicion of the identity
+of the drowned woman with the wanderer she
+had seen in the forest dell, and Miss Churchill
+was entirely without suspicion as to who it could
+be. Mrs. Gardiner Green was full of exclamations
+of wonder, grief, and horror. Four o’clock
+drew near, and the jury summoned by the coroner
+began to assemble; many other persons impelled
+by curiosity also came. When the room
+was nearly full, and the hour appointed for holding
+the inquest arrived, it entered the head of the
+coroner to request the attendance of the lady of
+the house as well as of Mrs. May, whose testimony,
+as one present at the finding of the body,
+was required. A message was sent upstairs,
+and Mrs. May and Miss Churchill, accompanied
+by Mrs. Gardiner Green, entered the room. The
+corpse was laid out upon boards in the centre of
+the room; it was covered by a black velvet pall—the
+body had not been uncovered since the
+assembling of the jury. The ladies entered and
+took their seats.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What are we waiting for now?” inquired a
+gentleman present.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“For Mr. Withers, who is on the jury,”
+answered the coroner.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>At this moment Mr. Withers entered, and the
+inquest began. The coroner, going to the head
+of the bier, turned down the pall, and summoned
+Mr. Wilde to give in his evidence. At the first
+uncovering of the corpse, many had bent forward
+to obtain a glimpse of the face, Mr. Withers
+among the rest; he had been standing near Sophie,
+whom he had not omitted to greet, and now he
+leaned forward. By reason of his height, he
+obtained a good view, <em>for a single instant</em>, then
+covering his face with his open palms, he
+groaned forth in tones of bitter anguish—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“God! Oh, God! <em>Fanny</em>,” and dropped like
+a lifeless mass into his chair. The intense curiosity
+of all present directed to the corpse prevented
+the agitation of the minister being observed.
+Lieutenant Wilde identified the corpse
+as the body found by himself in the morning.
+Emily was then summoned, and corroborated the
+statement of her brother. When she was about
+to leave the stand she was asked—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Did you ever see or hear of this woman
+before?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I never saw her before this morning, when I
+saw her dead upon the beach.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Did you ever hear of her before?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes—no—yes!—<em>no</em>, I never—” said Emily,
+confused between fact and fancy. Her confused
+answer drew upon her a close cross-examination,
+during which she alluded to the
+vision seen in the dell by Miss Churchill. She
+was then dismissed, and Sophie Churchill called
+to the stand. Sophie had been sitting in a remote
+part of the room—she had not bent forward
+as others had to view the corpse—hence
+she had not seen it at all; to the examination of
+the witnesses she had paid slight attention. Not
+one word of Emily’s testimony had she heard,
+by reason of the low tone in which Emily
+spoke. She arose when called, approached the
+bier, and when told to look upon the body, and
+say whether she had ever seen it before, she
+languidly cast her eyes down upon it, and recognised
+the apparition of the dell—the moonlight
+visitor of the Hall—started—tottered—and
+with a smothered cry sank back in the arms of
+the coroner in a swoon. All the company
+looked dismayed. Augustus Wilde sprang forward
+to receive her, took her from the coroner’s
+hold, and telling him angrily that he had exceeded
+his authority, bore her into the air, and
+sitting down with her on the steps of the piazza,
+hastily loosened her dress and fanned her with
+his cap. Emily was by his side, she had followed
+them; Sophie opened her eyes, and then
+resigning her to Emily’s care he returned to the
+hall, meeting Mrs. Gardiner Green bustling out
+to look after her protegée.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The verdict, “death by drowning,” was rendered,
+and the jury broke up. The coroner and
+magistrates had decided that the body should be
+buried from the Hall in the family burial ground,
+with the consent of Miss Churchill. The magistrates
+were taking their hats and preparing to
+depart, when the figure of Sophie Churchill,
+pale and haggard as though newly arisen from
+the grave, appeared among them.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I have testimony to give, and I <em>must</em> give
+it,” she said.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The magistrates looked surprised, the company
+eager—Mrs. Gardiner Green, frowning,
+sat down. Emily, pale and expectant, stood by
+Sophie’s side.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“The inquest is over,” said Mrs. Green at
+last. “Your testimony will be supererogatory,
+Miss Churchill.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Her deposition can be taken by a magistrate,”
+said Lieutenant Wilde.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Miss Churchill is not now of sound mind,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_33'>33</span>she is ill, her testimony cannot be taken,” persisted
+the proud lady.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie Churchill was now standing by the
+side of the corpse—all eyes were turned towards
+her—<em>her</em> eyes were bent straight forward across
+the room upon the bowed and shuddering figure
+of the minister; he <em>felt</em> her gaze, he raised his
+head; her eyes full of deep reproach and dire
+determination encountered his—no longer cold
+and glittering like ice, and freezing the blood in
+her veins—oh, no! the anguish of a tortured
+soul <em>groaned</em> through their glance—“<em>Mercy!</em>
+Sophie.” That glance inspired Sophie’s heart
+with pity, but it was too late now, or <em>she</em>
+thought it was too late to retract. The magistrate
+commenced his examination. To his
+question—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“When did you first see this woman?” she
+replied by relating the adventure in the dell.
+“And her finger pointed at the—at the Rev. Mr.
+Withers?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, sir,” replied Sophie, turning her head
+to avoid looking at the tortured countenance of
+the minister.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Did she speak?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, sir.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What did she say?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Gazing intently at me, and pointing to the
+minister, she said, ‘shun him!’”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>All eyes now turned in wonder and curiosity
+from Sophie to the minister.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Did you ever see her after this?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Once.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Where?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie now related the visit to the Hall.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And she claimed to be Mr. Withers’s wife?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, sir.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Did she appear to you to be of unsound mind?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, sir.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You may stand aside.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The magistrates conversed apart for a while,
+then one of their number said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Will Mr. Withers be kind enough to step
+forward?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The minister arose, and collecting and composing
+himself with an effort, approached the
+table—all conversation was suspended—all eyes
+were fixed upon him—he felt it.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Will Mr. Withers oblige us by telling all he
+may know of this unfortunate young person—of
+course we have no sort of right, <em>now</em>, to ask it—we
+appeal to the courtesy of Mr. Withers to
+satisfy an interest that we all feel in this most
+unfortunate young stranger?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Mr. Withers bowed, and declared himself
+ready to answer any question upon the subject.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“We have no intention or desire to subject
+Mr. Withers to a legal examination,” said the
+first speaker, “we merely wished, that if it were
+not unpleasant, Mr. Withers would oblige us
+by volunteering such information as might be in
+his possession.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Is she your <em>wife</em>, Mr. Withers?” chucklingly
+inquired an old country squire, who did not believe
+what he asked, but whom neither time,
+place, nor circumstance could debar from his
+jest.  “Is she your <em>wife</em>?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, sir,” answered Mr. Withers, with dignity,
+“she is not my wife, gentlemen. I <em>do</em> know
+this young woman, have known her from a
+child; her life for the last three years has been
+full of passion, sin, suffering, and sorrow that
+eventuated in insanity, and has ended as you
+may see in suicide. For the last year she has
+been my pensioner, and an inmate of the ——
+lunatic asylum. A few months ago I was informed
+by letter that she had escaped; yesterday
+evening I discovered that she was in this
+neighborhood, by coming upon her suddenly
+while she was conversing with Miss Churchill.
+I believe she followed me to this neighborhood,
+yet at my approach she fled. That was last
+night, her body was found this morning. This
+is all I have to tell, sirs.” He made a ceremonious
+bow, and retired from the table. The
+company gathered in groups to converse upon
+the singular event—the strange statement of the
+wanderer, given in the evidence of Miss Churchill,
+was scarcely noticed—just set down as the raving
+of a maniac. Withers approached Sophie,
+and, stooping, hissed in her ear, “Most cruel
+girl! do you deem what you have made me suffer?
+I have been stretched upon the rack, but
+you—you—<em>you</em> are piling up wrath against a
+day of wrath. Mark <em>that</em>, Sophie Churchill!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The poor girl, after her extraordinary effort,
+had relapsed into utter languor, but she raised
+her languid eyes, and murmured,—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I think <em>you</em> are.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He stopped, glanced around—no one was
+now observing him—stooped, and said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What do you mean, Sophie? Do you
+think that I have ever wronged a hair of that
+poor creature’s head? No, Sophie, no—no, as
+I hoped to be saved, <em>never</em>!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He moved away from Sophie, and going to
+Mrs. Green, said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“My dear madam, I wish you to take Miss
+Churchill home with you this evening, and keep
+her there for the next two weeks; her health is
+sadly shaken by these exciting events. As for
+the school we must procure a substitute, or it
+must for the present be disbanded. I will remain
+here and attend to this interment.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The company were getting into their saddles
+to depart. Mrs. May, Mrs. Green, Lieutenant
+Wilde, and Mr. Withers, remained to tea.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The golden beams of the setting sun that were
+shining through the foliage of the shade trees,
+making their leaves glisten like emeralds, and
+falling upon the piazza, were somewhat intercepted
+by the figure of Lieutenant Gusty as
+he walked up and down the piazza, ruminating
+to this effect, “Shall I now, or shall I not?  I
+wonder if it is too early. I have known her
+only a short time, it is true, but then, how dearly
+I love her, and how wisely, the regard of my
+excellent sister proves. I am going away in a
+day, to stay three years; if I don’t speak now
+some one else may speak before I have another
+chance.” The entrance of Sophie from the
+house decided him by inspiring a sudden impulse.
+She had come out, and not seeing him,
+walked slowly up to the further end of the
+piazza, hung her head over the railing, and
+remained fixed in that attitude. Gusty walked
+rapidly up to her, and then back, and then up
+again, and then back. The third time approaching
+her, he said, while standing behind her,—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Hem!</em> Sophie, you <em>know</em> you rather like
+me! and <em>I</em> know it too, because Emily says so.
+And <em>I</em>, Sophie—well, never mind about me!
+So, Sophie, when I come back from sea again in
+three years from this, will you—will you—will
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_34'>34</span>you <em>have</em> me? Now consider the circumstances,
+and don’t say, my own dear Sophie, that my
+proposal is <em>too soon</em>.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>It is too late—too late</em>, dear Gusty,” she
+said, turning round; her eyes were fixed and despairing.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Too late,” he echoed, looking stupidly at
+her.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Too late,” she repeated; “I am betrothed.
+Even your sister—<em>my</em> dear sister Emily, thinks
+that there is no escape <em>now</em>. I have just had a
+conversation with her.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You—you are betrothed—to—to <em>whom</em>?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You surely guess—to Mr. Withers.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He walked up and down the piazza with
+folded arms, chin bowed upon his bosom, eyes
+bent to the ground. At last he paused before
+her—bashfulness was gone now.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Look at me, Sophie! oh, my soul’s love,
+look at me!” She raised her eyes to his fine
+countenance—he <em>had</em> a fine countenance. Curls
+black, silky, and shining, clustered around a
+brow fair, round, and polished as a woman’s—his
+dark eyes, now full of Heaven’s own love
+and wisdom, were bent upon hers.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“My own loved sister—my own heart’s darling,
+<em>we</em> are betrothed. Oh, believe it, Sophie!—believe
+it! <em>We</em> are betrothed, Sophie! Listen!
+You have never loved before?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Never</em>, Gusty!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And mine also is a virgin heart; beyond a
+general kindliness of feeling towards <em>all</em> women,
+I have never loved before. Oh! Sophie,
+are <em>we</em> not betrothed by God himself? Break
+through this other engagement forced upon you
+by circumstances, and give me your hand. Let
+us marry <em>this evening</em>, Sophie, and let me leave
+you with my sister until I come back—my own
+dear Sophie, <em>do this</em>. I would not for my soul’s
+salvation do anything or advise you to anything
+wrong, but indeed, my Sophie, I feel such a <em>right</em>
+to you, such a <em>claim</em> upon you, such a <em>property</em>
+in you, that I should feel myself wronged and
+ruined by any one who should wrest you from
+me.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She gazed unconsciously, entranced, up to his
+pure clear brow—to her it seemed the brow of
+an angel, and into his beautiful eyes, full of earnest
+strength, half pleading, half commanding,
+fixed upon her own. With an hysterical gasp
+and sob she fell forward; he caught her, strained
+her to his bosom. Her form was convulsed
+with emotion, her breast heaved strongly, heavily,
+and then her tears broke forth in floods; she
+wept abundantly upon his bosom. At last her
+emotion subsided. As the rain expends the
+clouds, clears the atmosphere, and refreshes the
+face of nature, so do tears relieve the heart, clear
+the brain, and renovate the system. Sophie’s
+emotion subsided, and then she quietly rose and
+said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“There, Gusty, it is over. Oh, my dear brother—<em>my
+brother</em>, let us be calmly wise. We
+may meet in heaven, but here, upon this earth
+below, we must never meet again, Gusty; we
+must never see each other’s face—hear each
+other’s voice again.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Here they were interrupted by the entrance of
+Emily, who came to tell Sophie that Mrs. Green
+was preparing to go. Sophie extended her
+hand to Augustus, who caught and pressed it to
+his lips. Then she re-entered the house.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No more of that, Augustus,” said Emily,
+“you must think of her no more; she is to be
+married in nine days to Mr. Withers.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The young man turned around hastily, and,
+with the occasional impetuosity of his nature, replied,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Think of her no more! Confound you,
+Emily! you talk as lightly, as composedly, of
+thinking of her no more, as though you spoke of
+a new coat—a visit. ‘Think of her no more!’
+why, in the name of Heaven, did you throw us
+together—tell me that?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why? because I wished you to love and
+marry. Alas! I did not know, though it was
+rumored in the neighborhood, that Withers seriously
+thought of her, and could not have believed
+that they were engaged.” The young
+man groaned. “You will get over this when
+you are once more at sea. Come, Gusty, get
+up our horses, we must return home.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Mrs. Green, with Miss Churchill and Mrs.
+May, attended by her brother, left Heath Hall,
+and rode on to the point where three roads
+parted in company. Then Emily and her
+brother rode up to the carriage door and took
+leave. Augustus took Sophie’s hand in his own,
+their eyes met—their <em>souls</em> met, in one intense
+and agonizing gaze, and parted. He left the
+neighborhood the next morning.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER X.<br> <span class='c009'>AN UNEXPECTED EVENT.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“Yet it may be more lofty courage dwells</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>In one weak heart which braves an adverse fate,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Than his whose ardent soul indignant swells,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Warmed through the fight, or cheered through high debate.”</div>
+      <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>Mrs. Norton.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>A wedding was Mrs. Gardiner Green’s delight.
+In Maryland and Virginia, a country
+wedding promises festivity for weeks to come.
+The marriage ceremony takes place at <em>night</em>, in
+the presence of the <em>élite</em> of all the neighboring
+counties. Visitors from a distance remain all
+night. The breakfast next morning is a state
+affair; it is followed by a dinner-party and ball,
+given at the house of the bridegroom’s parents
+or that of some of his friends. Then the nearest
+relations give balls in succession; then the
+most intimate friends. Generally the bride and
+bridegroom, with their attendants, remain all
+night at the house where the dinner and the ball
+are given. Thus a marriage in high life in the
+country throws a quiet neighborhood into convulsions
+for weeks, making it resemble a city in
+the height of the “season.” It is a downright
+windfall to the young men and girls, and it is a
+country proverb that “One marriage makes
+many.” In the approaching marriage of Miss
+Churchill and Mr. Withers there was one serious
+drawback to the pleasant anticipations of
+the young men and maidens. The bridegroom
+was a clergyman; therefore there could be no
+balls, only the wedding and dinner parties. Mrs.
+Green was in her glory—her preparations for
+display were magnificent; the wedding dresses,
+confectionery, &#38;c., had been ordered from Baltimore
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_35'>35</span>and were arrived. And Sophie, she was
+now quite resigned; she had been the guest of
+Mrs. Green since the day of the inquest. Mr.
+Withers had recovered his composure, and was
+with her, as usual, a part of every day. Sophie’s
+brain and heart were in an apathy. The only
+action of her mind was an indolent surprise at
+the indifference she felt for everything going on
+around her, the deadness of all sensibility, the
+stillness of her nerves; even the frigid and formal
+kiss of Withers imprinted on her hand at
+meeting, or at parting, no longer sent an ague
+thrill through all her veins—the contentment of
+despair had come.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The evening of the marriage arrived; the
+handsomely furnished house of Mrs. Gardiner
+Green was elegantly decorated and thrown open
+from attic to cellar to the numerous expected
+visitors. Mrs. Green herself, elegantly attired,
+was superintending the bridal toilet of Sophie in
+the dressing-room of the latter. The dress of
+Miss Churchill, prepared by the taste of Mrs.
+Green, was a white satin skirt, and over that a
+white gauze embroidered all over with silver
+flowers, a large white lace veil, looped up above
+her brow by a single small diamond star, leaving
+room to the slight elegant wreath of orange buds
+that lightly rested on her smoothly braided hair.
+Rose Green and another young lady of the
+neighborhood attended her as bridesmaids. A
+murmur of admiration ran through the crowded
+parlors as Sophie was led in by Mr. Withers, and
+the bridal party took their stand in the centre of
+the room. The bishop of the diocese, summoned
+from Baltimore, was in attendance to perform
+the ceremony. He wore the usual full wide
+black gown of an Episcopal clergyman. The
+bridal party stood before him cheerily; the young
+bridesmaids and groomsmen stood in reverent
+<em>attitude</em>, their eyes bent upon the ground, but
+the corners of their lips full of dimples, scarcely
+repressing their smiles—stern and solemn stood
+the tall thin figure of the dark bridegroom, and
+cold and pale and quiet Sophie waited. Once
+she raised her eyelids, but her glance fell on the
+black gown and solemn countenance of the clergyman
+before her, and she quickly dropped them
+again. He seemed to her the incarnation of
+darkest doom. She felt a dreary sinking of the
+heart as the first words of the ritual fell upon
+her ear, as the sentence of death falls upon the
+criminal hearing. It was over. It was over—friends
+and neighbors crowded around her with
+their congratulations. First, Emily May drew
+her to her bosom, and imprinting a kiss upon her
+brow, whispered hastily—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Courage, love! nothing is so illusory as the
+emotions of a bride; many a reluctant bride has
+become a loving and happy wife, many a hopeful
+and joyous bride has seen her happiness decay
+and die—courage, love.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie scarcely knew who spoke these hasty
+words, or how she at last found herself seated
+with her husband and attendants by her side.
+Refreshments were served around, and that occupied
+the company for the next hour; then a low
+hum of suppressed gaiety was heard all over the
+room, among the lively young people brought
+together in the expectation of enjoyment, and
+now growing uneasy under the restraint put upon
+their gaiety. The young people voted the parson’s
+wedding a stupid affair—a disappointment—quite
+a failure. At last, Miss Rogers, the
+second bridesmaid of Sophie, a merry little
+maiden, not overladen with veneration, jumped
+up from her seat, and standing before the solemn
+bridegroom, said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Now, Mr. Withers, you are very happy, or
+you <em>ought</em> to be, as folks call the bridegroom
+‘<em>the</em> happy man,’ and you ought to be willing
+for other people who are not ‘happy’ at least to
+be <em>merry</em>, poor souls. Now we young folks who
+are not brides and bridegrooms want to console
+ourselves by dancing—there! and you are worse
+than ‘the dog in the manger’ if you don’t let us
+dance.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Mr. Withers answered,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“There is a higher authority than my own,
+present, Miss Rogers; I refer you to the bishop.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The girl’s head slightly started back, and her
+eyes opened in an awe-struck gaze <em>an instant</em>,
+as she turned to look upon the high dignitary of
+the church. To Sophie’s sorrowing vision he
+had seemed the dark minister of a dark fate; to
+the merry maiden as she now looked at him, he
+appeared a jolly old gentleman enough, so she
+smiled merrily, and tripped up to him, and said
+with saucy shyness,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I say, Dr. Otterback, we all—we girls—want
+to dance; <em>Solomon</em> danced, you know; now
+have you any objection?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The old gentleman took her chin in his fat
+hand and made her little teeth chatter like a
+pair of castanets, while looking down in her
+young face with a merry, genial kindness, he
+said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, child! a very <em>serious</em> objection.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! Dr. Otterback, <em>now</em>, I don’t believe it;
+what is it? David danced, you know, and I
+never feel so happy, or thank God so much for
+making me, as when I am dancing; <em>now</em>, Dr.
+Otterback, what objection <em>can</em> you have?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“A very serious one, my child, I tell you—<em>this</em>—the
+sound of a fiddle plays upon my feet
+and legs like the fingers of little Miss Rogers
+upon the piano keys—sets them in motion;
+can’t help it; the merriment and the wickedness
+bubbles up from the bottom of my heart, and the
+old man Adam grows too strong for me; now
+you wouldn’t have me pirouetting and pigeon-winging
+it all around this room, would you?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Wouldn’t I? I should love churches and
+bishops better all my life after,” laughed the
+maiden.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He shook his head, patted her rosy cheek, and
+sent her off.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The rooms were crowded and close, though
+all the windows and doors were open; the
+night was warm, and the moon was shining
+brightly out of doors. At last one and then
+another couple began to stroll out into the lawn
+and garden. As a matter of etiquette the bridal
+party kept their seats much longer; all, except
+the little bridesmaid, Miss Rogers, who never
+minded etiquette; she mingled with the company
+on the lawn, until Mrs. Gardiner Green
+seeing her said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I am astonished at you, Miss Rogers; return
+to your post.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Then the little maiden ran up the marble
+steps in front of the house, and there she paused,
+unwilling to enter the warm rooms. The company
+on the lawn had wandered off into the
+grove, and she stood there watching their departed
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_36'>36</span>footsteps. Her eyes wandered over the
+scene, and at last were fixed by a figure on the
+gravel walk approaching from the gate towards
+the house. The figure hurried nervously forward,
+sprang up the steps, and stood before her
+taking breath. He was a youth of perhaps
+seventeen, with a broad fair forehead and golden
+hair. He caught her hand and inquired anxiously,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Are <em>you</em> Miss Churchill?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, indeed, thank Heaven, I am not Miss
+Churchill,” replied the maiden, wondering.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Where is Miss Churchill—where is she? I
+must see her immediately.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Miss Churchill is no more; Mrs. Withers
+is in the drawing-room.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Good God! I am too late; it is all over
+then!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Quite</em>; you should have come sooner; the
+bride-cake is even eaten up.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Young lady—what is your name?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Blanche Rogers.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Miss Rogers, you can procure me an interview
+with—with the bride.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I will take you in and present you with
+great pleasure, if,” laughed the young lady,
+“you will favor me with your credentials.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Miss Rogers, my name is Raymond—no, I
+cannot tell you now; will you be kind enough
+to go to Mrs. Withers, and tell her that one
+wishes to see her for a moment at the door.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The maiden looked at him keenly, and saying
+to herself, “Such a boy can have no evil
+design,” replied, hesitatingly, “Yes,” and turned
+slowly to do his bidding, looking back, once or
+twice, suspiciously. She found Sophie alone
+with Mrs. Green. Mr. Withers was in conversation
+with the bishop in a distant part of the
+room.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“My dear Sophie,” said she, “there is a
+young man out in the piazza that asks to see
+you.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“A young man?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, yes; that is to say, a very young
+man—a boy.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie arose and passed into the piazza, and,
+except her cold pale face, like a radiant visitant
+from the skies she looked, as her dazzling
+raiment of white and silver flashed in the moonbeams.
+At the further end of the piazza, the
+moonlight fell upon a slight boyish figure clad
+in deep mourning, and leaning upon the balustrade.
+Sophie approached him; he raised his
+head and stepped forward; she met his eyes and
+started, suppressed a scream, and trembling
+violently, leaned against the parapet, as she
+recognised the slender form and wan face, the
+intense gaze, the ultra-marine blue eyes, and the
+floating golden locks of the wanderer, and—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Have you, indeed, unhappy one, risen from
+the grave to reproach, to warn me?” involuntarily
+escaped her lips.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Be calm, Miss Churchill; I do not know
+what you mean by your question, since I have
+never been dead, and do not remember even to
+have seen, far less reproached or warned you.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Who are you, then; I—I do not know
+whether I am sane or not. I am afraid my brain
+is reeling; who are you?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Dear young lady, I have startled you; <em>why</em>
+I do not see; will you give me an interview in
+some place where we cannot be interrupted?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Tell me who you are?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You are not afraid of me?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No—oh, no; but I wish, of course, to know
+the name and business of one who calls me out
+at night for a private interview.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“My name is Frank Raymond Withers; I
+am the only son, the only <em>child</em> of the Reverend
+John Huss Withers, and Fanny Raymond.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>There was a dash of bitterness in the mock
+ceremonious manner with which he announced
+himself. Sophie heard him with clasped hands
+and earnest downcast brow. She remained in
+deep thought a moment; then suddenly catching
+his hand, she said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, I <em>must</em> have an interview with you,
+where none can overhear us. Come with me,”
+and retaining his hand and drawing him after
+her, she passed up the piazza, down the central
+marble steps, across the lawn, and taking a narrow
+path through the grove, led him down a
+deep dell, into a rustic arbor built over the spring,
+dropping into a seat, she said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Dip me up some cold water, that I may drink,
+and grow strong for this interview.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He performed her bidding. She bathed her
+fevered hands and brow, she drank a deep draught
+of the lifegiving beverage, and then she composed
+herself, and said, as he stood before her,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Sit down; I <em>too</em> have something to reveal,
+as well as to learn.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He took a seat opposite to her.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“First, what was your purpose in seeking me,
+this evening?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“To save you from a marriage that could result
+in nothing but wretchedness and ruin.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Explain yourself!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Your husband, John Huss Withers, is—a
+lunatic!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“A <em>lunatic</em>!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Gracious heavens! Oh, yes! I see it all—<em>all
+now</em>!—that fearful light in his eyes!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And you will withdraw yourself from him
+before it is too late; you will reveal this fact and
+demand an immediate separation?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Stop, stop,” said Sophie, raising her hand to
+her brow, “Stop, I am dizzy, bewildered; how
+came this about? how has he so successfully
+concealed it for the months that he has been
+with us? and is it <em>hereditary</em>? Tell me all
+about it.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“The malady is <em>not</em> hereditary; no member
+of the family was ever known to have lost his
+or her reason; severe domestic affliction—trials,
+oh! trials that would have—that might have
+riven the strongest, firmest heart in two, that
+might have shaken into chaos the best regulated
+mind, clouded the clearest reason. Listen, Miss
+Churchill. Mr. Withers, my father, was morbidly
+proud, his pride was brought to the dust;
+he was delicately sensitive; he was stricken to
+the heart; his health gave way; his reason
+failed. With the strange cunning of a lunatic,
+and under the favor of circumstances, he has
+succeeded in concealing this malady from the
+world. In his first one or two attacks, <em>I</em> was
+his keeper by chance; <em>after</em> the first two or three,
+he learned by the premonitory symptoms when
+to seclude himself; and so, no symptom, no
+effect of his malady has yet appeared but this:
+the burning eloquence, the super-human power
+of intellect revealed in his occasional sermons;
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_37'>37</span>and, as long as it properly could be kept, in fact
+up to this moment, I have kept his secret; believing
+that if he knew it to be revealed, his proud
+and sensitive nature would be so shocked and
+wounded that the last light of reason would go
+out; that he would become a raving maniac.
+But, Miss Churchill, when I saw another person,
+a young girl, about to be sacrificed to him (for
+my father wrote to me, at college, of his approaching
+marriage, not deeming that I would interfere),
+I deemed it my duty to reveal his secret,
+at least, to his affianced bride. Now, Miss
+Churchill, you have your own fate and <em>his</em> in
+your power; reveal his secret, save yourself. No
+one in the world could blame you for separating
+yourself from him.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie remained with her hand pressed upon
+her brow, so still she might have been taken
+for a statue.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I am ready Miss Churchill, to aid your
+release by my testimony. Your marriage can
+be dissolved in a few days, by legislative action;
+do not be cast down.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! stop, hush!” said Sophie, “let me think—let
+me think. My God! help thy child!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She pressed her hand upon her brow tightly,
+then she spoke.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Say! you think the revelation of this secret
+would affect him very seriously?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“It would destroy his reason utterly, irrevocably,
+I think.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You say that this malady is accidental,
+circumstantial, and not hereditary?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Entirely—entirely the result of overwhelming
+affliction.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie sighed deeply; “It is hard to ask a son
+to criminate his father; yet <em>justice</em>—tell me,
+were these afflictions brought about by <em>his sin</em>?</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The youth paused, looked down, groaned
+heavily, and at last hesitatingly replied;—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No; not by <em>his sin</em>; that were too harsh a
+term; by his error, or rather his <em>mistake</em>.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie sighed more heavily than before, then
+she said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Young man, you are the son of Fanny Raymond;
+who <em>was</em> Fanny Raymond, your mother?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“She was the wife of Mr. Withers, of course.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“When did she die, and where, and under
+what circumstances?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The youth abruptly turned and hurried from
+the arbor, walked distractedly up and down the
+plat before it for some minutes, then returning,
+said in faltering tones to Sophie—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Do not ask me—<em>do not ask me</em>, I beg of you—be
+at ease—you are the bride of Mr. Withers,
+but you need not be his wife. Come, Sophie
+Churchill, I am ready to go with you to the
+house and say all, and if really needful, <em>more</em>,
+to the assembled company there than I have
+said to you. Come!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No,” said Sophie, passing her hand thoughtfully
+before her brow; “Stop—stop,” then after
+awhile she held out one hand behind her to
+where the youth was standing, and said, “Raymond,
+come to me—sit beside me—unlock your
+inmost heart to me, poor boy. Come—I am
+your friend; tell me now why do you wish to
+save me by exposing your father?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He came and sat beside her, and fixing his sad
+blue eyes upon her face said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“That I might not be accessary to your
+misery, Miss Churchill. I have kept his secret
+and borne the risk of concealment myself; I had
+no right to suffer the life of another to be risked
+by my silence.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie sighed again, with her head bowed
+upon her hand, and asked—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Is he ever so violent and dangerous, then?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, not positively violent, but <em>dangerous</em>, I
+fear, Miss Churchill.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“He has never certainly had an attack since
+he has been here.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You do not know—has he never been
+absent?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, for days, when no one knew where he
+was; for in his reserve he would not reveal his
+business, and no one durst ask him.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Ah! at such times, warned by the premonitory
+symptoms of his disease, he secluded himself—perhaps
+in the depths of the forest—perhaps
+threw himself on board of a packet and
+slipped up to Baltimore.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! how wretched, how wretched he must
+have been, must still be, with no one here to
+whom he dare trust his dreadful secret.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And is it possible, Miss Churchill, that no
+one suspected it here—that no eccentricity
+of manner threatened to betray him to those
+that were about him every day?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie took his delicate hand in hers, and
+pressing it kindly, said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Raymond, do not call me Miss Churchill,
+or speak to me as a stranger, or as an indifferent
+acquaintance; I am so no longer; you must
+love me, and confide in me, Raymond; you and
+I have a mutual and a holy duty to perform.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes,” said he, with a bitter sigh, “we must
+go and make this known. Oh, my unhappy
+father!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Poor boy, you have misunderstood me; did
+you think,” she said, passing her hand over his
+troubled brow, smoothing away the golden
+ringlets, and looking kindly in his face, “did
+you think that I was going selfishly to expose
+and abandon your father? No, Raymond—no,
+poor boy—I am weak, and sometimes cowardly,
+but never cruel or selfish—I never wantonly
+destroyed the smallest insect, or wounded, purposely,
+the worst or the lowest human being;
+and since I have been sitting here, Raymond, I
+know not what sort of a strange strength has
+entered my soul! Yes, your arrival just now
+is providential, and with your words the spirit
+of God has descended upon me. The Lord
+has given me something to do for His sake, and
+endowed me with strength to do it. And you
+are my co-laborer, Raymond. To dress the
+wounds of this poor warrior, beaten and bruised,
+bleeding and fainting on the field of the battle
+of life; to raise and nurse him back to life and
+health—this is our work.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>How beautiful she looked in her young devotion,—the
+moonlight fell upon her fair, pure
+brow, clothing it with an angelic radiance.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, but the sacrifice, will you immolate
+yourself thus, Miss Churchill?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Strange! but I do not feel it as such; I feel
+lifted up, elevated, strengthened, filled with
+light and a strange joy.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Beautiful inspired one!” exclaimed the boy,
+with enthusiasm.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Come,” said Sophie, rising, “let us return to
+the house, I shall be missed; did your father
+expect you?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_38'>38</span>“He wrote that I might come if I pleased;
+but has he never mentioned me, Miss Churchill?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Never.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why was that?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Abstraction—forgetfulness—something.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Come with me, then, I will present you to
+him.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, Miss Churchill—gentle Sophie—do you
+feel no inward resentment towards my unhappy
+father, for the marriage into which he has led
+you?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“None in the world. Is not his reason clouded,
+his thoughts all jarred and out of tune? No,
+I feel that he was led by, to him, a blind impulse,
+really by Providence, to the only one who could
+nurse him back to health of mind and body.
+Raymond, we can cure this sick heart, clear this
+clouded brain, restore this ruin. Come!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>And they left the arbor, and took their way
+towards the house.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>During the interview, a revolution had taken
+place in Sophie’s soul; all her deep religious feeling,
+her latent passion for self-devotion, her enthusiasm,
+her benevolence, had been called forth.
+Thus softened by pity, and inspired by her own
+high ideal of duty, she determined to devote
+herself to the tranquility of his shrunken and
+tortured life, with one purpose—his restoration
+to mental and physical health. She passed from
+the arbor no joyous or reluctant bride, but a high-souled
+devotee, in possession of duty for which
+she must live. An hour before, she had seemed
+a trembling, shrinking, suffering victim, offered
+in <em>useless, objectless</em> sacrifice; now, she was a
+cheerful, self-possessed human soul, who had
+solved the problem of her life, and held the
+answer in her hands.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Among the passions of the human soul is one
+not often, if ever, mentioned as such by moralists
+and metaphysicians: the passion of self-devotion.
+Yet, that this certainly exists, and deserves to be
+classed with the others, is proved by the large
+number of human beings acting under its influence.
+It acts in religion, in love, in benevolence,
+in philanthropy, and patriotism—but it is totally
+distinct from and independent of each—a separate
+passion, sometimes acting alone.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>This passion, in its right motion, inspires the
+highly beneficial devotion of the Sister of Charity—in
+its perverted action, kindles the barren
+enthusiasm of the nun. A philanthropist, a patriot,
+under the rational influence of this passion,
+becomes as the Sister of Charity, one of the
+greatest benefactors of his race; under its irrational
+influence, becomes as the secluded nun or
+monk, <em>lost</em>; or as the fanatic, mischievous or
+dangerous to society.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>They returned to the house. Meeting Mrs.
+Green first, Sophie led the youth up to her, and
+presented him as the son of Mr. Withers, just
+arrived from college. The lady received him
+with much courtesy, asked him where she should
+send for his trunks, and whether he would not
+prefer being shown into a dressing-room before
+being introduced into the drawing-room. Expressing
+his thanks with a gentle grace, he
+named the village tavern as the place where his
+baggage lay, and declining the use of a <em>chambre
+de toilette</em>, bowed his leave, and giving his
+arm to Sophie, passed into the room; the rooms
+were thinned out considerably, most of the company
+had strayed out into the garden and groves.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Mr. Withers was standing near the window in
+conversation with the bishop. Sophie, leaving
+Raymond at a short distance behind, walked up
+to him, and laying her small hand upon his arm,
+said gently and cheerfully—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Mr. Withers, your son has come at last—you
+expected him, I believe.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Withers started, more at the cheerful, genial
+tone in which these words were spoken, than at
+the news they conveyed. The bishop, also,
+whose kindly affectionate nature scarcely let a
+young person pass him without a caressing
+word or gesture,—the bishop turned around, and
+patting her chin, said archly:—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You have got over your terror, little lady;
+you seemed to think I was going to hang you
+when you stood up before me.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>But Sophie stepped back, and beckoning
+Raymond to approach, presented him.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“How do you do, Raymond? This is my
+son, Dr. Otterback,” were the only words of
+greeting or of introduction bestowed upon the
+youth by his father. Dr. Otterback immediately
+addressed his conversation to the young man,
+and Withers turned and looked in Sophie’s face;
+her countenance was serene, cheerful, kindly;
+what <em>could</em> be the reason? he was at a loss to
+account for it; yet he felt the shadow and the
+weight lifting from his own heart, passing from
+his own brain. Love, charity, the very sun of
+the moral atmosphere when it shines out, how
+the vapors are lifted, how the clouds disperse,
+how all nature rises and smiles in its beams.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“All our friends are out upon the lawn—it is
+pleasant there. Will you come out, Mr.
+Withers?” she asked.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>For the first time since she had known him,
+with an air of graceful self-possession and
+gallantry, he lifted her fair hand to his lips, drew
+her arm within his own, and led her forth.
+They sat down upon the bench in the piazza.
+At first she talked cheerfully of the nearest topics
+of conversation, the company, the night, the
+weather, the moon; but seeing that he relapsed
+into silence and dejection, she thought he felt
+compunction for all the ill he had wrought her,
+and that this compunction was awakened by her
+own kindness to him. She was not sorry that
+he felt this; yet now she wished to dissipate the
+gloom. Laying her hand timidly, gently, upon
+his brow, and raising from it the heavy mass of
+black hair that seemed to rest there like a cloud,
+she said:—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Come, clear your brow, Mr. Withers, or you
+will make me fear that you regret taking under
+your wing a little girl like me.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And I <em>do</em> regret it, Sophie—I <em>do</em> regret it!”
+he said, and sighing heavily, he arose and paced up
+and down the piazza several times, and then threw
+himself into a seat far from her. She watched
+him there; at first from natural feelings of
+delicacy she hesitated to approach him; but
+when he dropped his head between his hands,
+and sigh after sigh and groan after groan rent
+his bosom, she paused no longer, but arising,
+crossed the piazza, and taking the seat by
+his side, and taking his hand, she pressed it
+between her own. He turned and gazed
+inquiringly into her eyes, his gaze no longer cold,
+brilliant, and chilling, but still piercing, and full
+of anguish. Suddenly he shut his eyes, and
+groaning “Oh Sophie!” turned away his head
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_39'>39</span>and attempted to withdraw his hand. She
+retained and pressed it, and again passing her
+soft, cool hand over his hot brow, she said,
+gently—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Come, Mr. Withers, cheer up, have faith in
+me. I love you.—I <em>do</em>—not, indeed, with the
+glad love of a young bride for the young husband
+of her choice, but with a feeling that will stand
+you in better stead—that will perhaps last
+longer and bear more—with the serious, thoughtful
+love one earnest human soul that has known
+isolation and sorrow can feel for another, desolated,
+tortured, suffering, yet worthy in its
+anguish, of admiration and respect.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He started up, then dropped into his seat
+again, exclaiming—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Sophie! I do not understand you; what is
+the meaning of this? What has brought about
+this strange, this—ah! but for <em>one</em> fact—blessed
+change in your feelings towards me?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“That very fact you allude to—that <em>very</em>
+fact!” then dropping her voice to its softest,
+gentlest tones she murmured—“You have a
+secret that corrodes and burns your heart out—a
+dreadful suffering that being suppressed has
+gained depth, and strength, and intensity—a
+fearful malady that being concealed has increased
+in power; let it be so no longer; relieve your
+overladen breast; pour all your sorrows into
+your wife’s bosom—she will never betray or
+forsake you. Oh! believe it. She partly knows
+your secret—she knows that sometimes—under
+some influences—a storm drives in your fine
+mind—that the clouds gather thick and black—the
+thunder roars and the lightnings flash, and
+that all is confusion, danger, and terror for a
+space—she also knows that when this storm has
+passed through your soul, the sun of reason
+shines out calm and bright. She knows all
+this, and she loves you for these sufferings.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He had grown as pale as death while she
+spoke, his features wearing the expression of
+deepest despair; he dropped his head upon his
+hands, his elbows resting on his knees, and
+groaned.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Then it is all at an end, this masquerade.
+When was it discovered—when did I betray
+myself, Sophie, and who knows of this besides
+yourself?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Except your son, no one besides myself; and
+it is indispensable that I should know it.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And he told you—curse—”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, do not say that!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I did not wish you to know it, Sophie; I
+was merciful, or selfish, or proud, and firm and
+cunning enough to keep it from you, Sophie, as I
+have kept it from every one else.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, and increased your own suffering and
+danger, and diminished the chances of cure.
+And, Mr. Withers, you would have suffered
+more in concealing your illness from me than
+from any one else. You would have found
+more difficulty in it, and dreaded more the
+consequences of the constantly threatened discovery.
+Now you have a friend and confidant—now
+you will be at peace, will you not?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He drew her to his bosom and blessed her. A
+summons to supper now called all the company
+in. He arose, and drawing her arm through his
+own, entered the house.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XI.<br> <span class='c009'>HAGAR.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“The wild sparkle of her eye seemed caught</div>
+      <div class='line'>From high—and lightened with electric thought—</div>
+      <div class='line'>And pleased not her the sports that please her age.”</div>
+      <div class='line in40'><span class='sc'>Byron.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>Let me pass briefly over the events of the
+next few years. Four or five weeks of solemn
+merry-making, dull dinners, and duller evening
+parties, completed the wedding festivities of the
+minister. An agreeable change had passed over
+the appearance of the minister—his countenance
+had lost somewhat of its gloom—his manners
+of their austerity, and his tones their hard curtness.
+Sophie’s demeanor revealed the sober
+cheerfulness befitting a clergyman’s bride. Raymond
+accompanied them everywhere, and everywhere
+was the delicate beauty, and gentle grace,
+and pensive air of the boy admired. Little
+Hagar also accompanied them. Sophie and
+Hagar had been so united—her care and attention
+had been so exclusively devoted to Hagar,
+that now that another claimed a larger share of
+her time and thoughts, and now that she felt the
+keen eyes of the sprite-like child jealously following
+her every motion closely, she loved
+Hagar with a remorseful tenderness—strange
+but natural. Mothers sometimes feel the same
+for the children to whom they have given even
+a good and beloved step-father. This is an illusion,
+and grows out of the false idea that our
+love is like any material and mortal thing,
+limited in quantity, and that what is given to one
+is necessarily withdrawn from another. Sophie
+took Hagar with her wherever they went, even
+to evening parties, where the child, with the obstinacy
+of spoiled children in general and her
+own nature in particular, refused to go to bed as
+long as Sophie sat up.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>There she would sit—the only child in a
+room crowded with grown people—alone, in a
+corner, quite neglected, her glittering eyes glancing
+around the room, and springing off in aversion
+when they fell upon the figure of Mr.
+Withers. She was beginning to hate him intensely,
+merely because he occupied so much
+of the time and attention of Sophie, whom she
+passionately loved. Her first interview with
+Raymond Withers is worthy of relation as characteristic
+of both. It was the night after the
+wedding, and a large party were crowded in the
+sober-hued parlor of Emily May. Hagar had
+been staying at the cottage for the last few days—and
+this night she first rejoined Sophie after
+her marriage. Here she was sitting, as I have
+described, neglected and apparently forgotten in
+a corner. Sophie could not well approach her,
+and Emily, ever thoughtful as she was, this
+evening had overlooked her, in her attention to
+her guests. The child’s wild eyes were gleaming
+brightly, fiercely, under her sharply projecting
+brows; her preternaturally developed perceptive
+faculties were at work. Refreshments
+had been carried around twice or thrice by the
+servants, and they had overlooked her. At
+last she saw, it was the first time she had seen
+him, a delicate, golden-haired youth, in deep
+mourning, enter the room. He went directly up
+to Sophie and remained by her side. The keen
+eyes of the child were immediately riveted upon
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_40'>40</span>him. There was a pensiveness, a thoughtfulness
+upon his fair young brow that seemed to isolate
+him even among the crowd. He stood by the
+side and a little behind Sophie’s chair, and except
+when he stooped to catch an occasional word
+from her, he stood unmoved and almost unobservant
+in the room. Once his eyes were raised,
+and their sad gaze chanced to meet the wild eyes
+of the little girl fixed with interest on his face.
+He bent down, and pointing to Hagar spoke to
+Sophie. Sophie’s glance followed the indication
+of his finger, then raising her countenance
+to his she answered him. He immediately separated
+himself from the party, passed into the
+supper room, and returning, walked up to the
+child, spread her handkerchief over her lap,
+poured into it a plateful of cakes and sweetmeats,
+and took a seat by her side.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Did Sophie send me these?” inquired the
+child.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why did you bring them, then?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You looked lonesome, and dull, and I
+thought it would amuse you.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Ah! I thought Sophie did not send them—she
+never thinks of me now.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why do you say that?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Because it is true; she used to keep me always
+by her side, or on her lap; now for two
+or three days she has left me here with Mrs.
+May, and now that she has come, she scarcely
+speaks to me!” exclaimed the child, and her
+black eyes flashed under her sharp brows, and
+her white teeth gleamed under her upturned lip
+as she spoke.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>A soft smile hovered an instant around the
+beautiful lips and under the golden eye-lashes of
+the youth, as he said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You look so like a little playful, spiteful,
+black kitten, that I am almost afraid of your
+teeth and claws—however—” and stooping
+down he daintily lifted the child and set her on
+his lap. Then he said, “I think you are a jealous
+little girl.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I don’t know what ‘jealous’ is, but I don’t
+like to be robbed of what is mine.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You are selfish, I am afraid, little one—who
+has robbed you?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Mr. Withers has got Sophie, and now he
+may have her, for I don’t care.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You are a proud little lady.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He caressed her straight black hair, adjusted
+her somewhat disordered dress, and began to
+crack nuts for her, but her eyes were fixed upon
+the group at the opposite end of the room, and
+suddenly she said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I wish Mr. Withers was dead—I do so!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! horror!” said the young man, now
+really shocked. “Revengeful, too, Hagar!
+Mr. Withers is my father.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Is he? I did not know that—I am so sorry—but,
+oh! he has taken Sophie away from me,
+and now I am <em>so</em> lonesome,” and the child burst
+out crying.</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c004'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“And where have you been, my pretty lad,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Where have you been all day?”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c016'>sang little Miss Rogers, dancing up to them—“Come,
+Raymond! or I beg your pardon—<em>Mr.</em>
+Raymond Withers—for you hobble-de-hoys are
+awful punctilious about your dignity—are you
+going to stay here nursing that spoiled brat all
+night? We are forming a round game at
+forfeits in the other room, and we want you.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Don’t go,” whispered the child.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Raymond set her off his lap, arose, and
+apologizing to Miss Rogers, gracefully declined
+her invitation. The maiden pouted, smiled,
+threw up her head, and tripped away.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Ain’t you good, to stay with me, instead of
+going with her? take me up again,” and she held
+out both her arms to him.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He smiled gently, and raised her, and how
+beautifully broke the glad smile over her dark,
+wild countenance, as she looked up in his face.
+From that hour the youth and infant were companions,
+confidants, and friends.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>At this time it was that the germ of a passion,
+fraught with much evil to the whole of Hagar’s
+life, took root in her heart—a passion destined
+by mal-cultivation to be fostered into monstrous
+growth—<span class='fss'>JEALOUSY</span>; and this grew out of
+Sophie’s thoughtless concentration of mind upon
+her new duty, just at this juncture; it is true
+that this mood of mind lasted but a few days,
+but in these days the seed of evil was sown.</p>
+
+<hr class='c013'>
+
+<p class='c008'>They were settled at Heath Hall. The time
+occupied by them in the wedding festivities
+while they were inmates of the Glade—the guests
+of Mrs. Gardiner Green—was also improved at
+the Heath. Workmen had been sent thither,
+and the house put in some repair. The negroes
+had been called home from hire, and set to work
+in clearing up the grounds—piling the weeds,
+briers, and rubbish up—drying and burning them
+for manure—in repairing old and putting up new
+fences, &#38;c. The brick wall inclosing the garden,
+and running round the very edge of the
+promontory, had been mended, the garden put in
+order, and the wild and desolate aspect of the
+whole place somewhat ameliorated. On the
+day of their return to Heath Hall, a dinner and
+an evening party of course, had been given, and
+that was the last. The next day they were left
+quietly in possession of their own home.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>There, reader! Northern reader, and city
+reader, you have now some idea of country
+weddings in middle life in Maryland and Virginia,—very
+different, you will admit, from city
+weddings. Raymond remained with them until
+the first of September, when his college term
+commencing, he returned to the North. Hagar
+grieved wildly after him, and threw herself upon
+her face when the packet in which he sailed
+disappeared up the river. His return to college
+had been doubtful, but was decided by an event
+that had occurred about two weeks after their
+return to the Heath. Up to the day of their
+return, the health and spirits of Mr. Withers had
+continued to improve. In a few days after their
+arrival, however—after the new moon, and as it
+increased to its full, the sleep of Withers became
+disturbed, his nights were uneasy, and his days
+gloomy—a deadly pallor settled on his face—his
+features became haggard, his cheeks hollow,
+and his eyes sunken and glowing in their deep
+sockets. Now Sophie’s heart trembled with
+uneasiness, now palpitated with alarm. Raymond
+was now ever at her side with words of
+gentle affection and cheerful encouragement—the
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_41'>41</span>boy seemed old and wise beyond his years,
+by the preternatural development by suffering;—he
+requested Sophie not to permit his father to
+perceive her knowledge that the terrible crisis of
+his malady was at hand, and they both redoubled
+their attentions to him. Daily his manner
+became more eccentric and alarming; he would
+sit at the table gloomy and glowering without
+uttering a word during the meal—then rising up
+he would walk off to the forest, or the beach—Raymond
+following him at a safe distance.
+Sometimes he would look back before leaving
+the house, remorsefully at Sophie, would return,
+take her hand, and then with a sudden change
+of mood—his green eyes scintillating sparks of
+fire—fling it from him with violence, and hurry
+off. Raymond grew hourly more wretchedly
+anxious on Sophie’s account. Day and night
+she was exposed, alone, to the danger of his
+violence. One morning when Sophie had come
+down to prepare breakfast, she found Raymond
+already in the breakfast-room—he advanced to
+meet her.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Where is my father, Sophie?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“In his chamber—he has not slept the whole
+night.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Sophie! I wish to say this to you—there is
+a malignity in his madness now that I have
+never seen before—it is a new feature, and it
+excites my fears for you. Sophie, leave him
+here in my care, and go and visit your friend,
+Mrs. May, for a few days—<em>do</em>, Sophie.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“How, Raymond! was my pledge given, my
+mission undertaken only for easy and safe duty—was
+there any proviso made that as soon as it
+became onerous, or dangerous, it should be
+abandoned? No, Raymond, I will be firm
+through these dark days—they will soon be
+past, and I shall feel repaid.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But your life—your <em>life</em> may be endangered.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘Life’—why, Raymond, of what great value
+is <em>my</em> life, that it should not be risked in a good
+cause?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I do believe, Sophie, that it was your being
+brought up in that room papered with the martyrs,
+that has given this singular bias to your
+character—why, Sophie, the world knowing
+your history in connexion with my father, would
+consider <em>you</em> the most insane of the two.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>They were standing side by side at the window,
+looking out upon the bay—its rippling
+waves glittering in the morning sun, its dark
+green bosom relieved by the white sails of a
+packet moving up the river. They had not
+heard the entrance of Withers, who approached
+and stood behind them—his face pale, his livid
+lips compressed, his eyes drawn in and glowing
+in their deep sockets.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But, dear Sophie,” continued the youth,
+“we must think of some place for securing your
+safety.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>In an instant the hands of Withers fell heavily
+upon his neck.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Perfidious son of a perfidious mother!” he
+exclaimed, shaking him violently, “her image
+in heart and mind, as well as in person—traitor
+and reprobate! would you wile the love of my
+bride away from me? would you teach her your
+vile mother’s sin?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The delicate youth was but as a reed in his
+grasp. Sophie sank pale and helpless into a
+chair. Now another figure appeared upon the
+scene—little Hagar stamping and screaming,
+upon the floor.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Let Raymond! let my brother alone! Let
+him go, I say! you old Satan, you. I—I’ll <em>kill</em>
+you—I’ll scratch your eyes out,” and clambering
+upon a chair, and then upon a table, she
+sprang cat-like upon the back of his neck. Now
+he was obliged to drop his hold of Raymond a
+moment to shake off the little wild-cat—he seized
+her, and pulling her off, hurled her flying through
+the open window! With a cry of anguish,
+Raymond sprang from the spot—from the room,
+and hurried around into the yard. The fall
+was not deep—the turf was soft—and the lithe,
+agile child had lighted on her feet and hands.
+She sprang up as Raymond came, and running
+to meet him asked anxiously,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Are you hurt? did he hurt you, Raymond?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He lifted her in his arms, and hurrying around
+the back way, ran up stairs with her.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, your poor neck—only see the marks of
+his wicked claws on your pretty white neck!”
+exclaimed the child, and she kissed and closely
+clasped him, and wept as if her heart were
+broken up and gushing through her tears. Then
+raising her head with eyes flashing through her
+tears, as the lightning gleams through the rain,
+she said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! the bad—bad—<em>bad</em> man! I wonder
+what God lets him stay here for?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hush—you must not ask such sinful questions.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But I <em>do</em> wonder—I’m sure I wouldn’t let
+him stay here if I could help it.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You must not think such wicked thoughts,”
+said the youth; but he himself was excited and
+anxious, and setting Hagar down on the foot of
+her little bed said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Now, Hagar, you must stay here—you must
+not come near him again to-day—”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I’m not afraid of him,” interrupted the child.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, you have the fire and courage of a
+young tigress; but you would not make him
+angry, and so endanger Sophie’s peace, would
+you?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No—he shan’t hurt Sophie; if he tries, the
+next time I’ll get my claws in his eyes and
+scratch them out—<em>right</em> out! and <em>then</em> see who
+he can hurt!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But you are talking of my father, Hagar,”
+said the young man, reproachfully.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! so I am; <em>that</em> is the worst of it.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Now, Hagar, promise me to stay here till I
+come and fetch you, will you?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes—I will do anything in the world <em>you</em>
+want me to do, Raymond, just see if I don’t!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, then, I am going to look after Sophie,
+and I will be back as soon as I can.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He found Sophie extended in a swoon upon
+the floor. Withers was gone. He raised her
+and bathed her face—she revived—he set her in
+the deep arm-chair.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hagar?” inquired she, as soon as she could
+speak.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Is not hurt—has neither scratch nor bruise;
+she is in my chamber; I thought it best that she
+should keep out of sight of my father for the
+present.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What is to be done—where is Mr. Withers?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I do not know where he is gone, but <em>you</em>
+must seek a place of safety.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No—no—no—I will stay here; I think I
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_42'>42</span>understand now why his lunacy takes this malignant
+character towards you; you remind him
+of—but no matter—but <em>you</em>, poor bereft boy,
+you must return immediately to your college—I
+can deal with him better alone, I am sure.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But, Sophie, you are nervous, <em>unfit</em> for this;
+the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh, the
+<em>flesh</em> is weak; you swooned just now—you have
+not even the firmness and courage of little
+Hagar.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, not the firmness, or the <em>fierceness</em>; but
+I have the courage. It must be as I say; you
+must leave here; you are too much like—poor
+boy, I did not mean to wound you, indeed I did
+not—you must return to your college, and by
+the time you have finished your course there,
+the absence of exciting causes, tranquillity, and
+sympathy will have restored your unfortunate
+father to health; then you will return and we
+shall all be happy together—courage, Raymond!
+God is at the helm! we must not forget that.
+He will yet guide us safely through this rough
+sea and starless night; now, Raymond, go and
+seek him, watch him, but keep out of his sight.”
+He left her to do her bidding.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>By a natural reaction the madness of Withers
+now assumed another aspect. Late in the afternoon
+he returned and entered not <em>his own</em>, but
+Raymond’s chamber. Sophie was in their room,
+and heard him come slowly up the stairs, enter
+the adjoining chamber, and throw himself upon
+Raymond’s bed. She determined to go to him,
+though her every nerve from heart to extremities
+was trembling and quivering. She arose and
+entered the room; the white wrapper that she
+wore was not whiter than her cheek, as she sat
+down by the bedside, where his long thin figure,
+in its black suit, lay extended upon the white
+counterpane. But what a change had come
+over him! never even in his most rational moments
+had she seen him in such a mood; his
+manner was subdued, the expression of his
+countenance pensive, his tones gentle. No one
+that had seen him in his ordinary manner, hard,
+stern, harsh, and bitter, would have recognised
+him now—alas! this mood was as unnatural to
+him and as much a feature in his lunacy as was
+the other of the morning; it was but the reaction
+of his phrensy. He held his hand out to
+her, she took it and pressed it between her own.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I would not go into your room, Sophie, for
+fear of disturbing you, and you come to me.
+Alas! and you are so pale, you tremble so
+much, poor girl, I have nearly killed you, you
+will give me up now!” and an expression of
+anguish convulsed his countenance.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, no, I will not; my paleness, trembling,
+swooning, is a matter of nerves, not of will; I
+cannot help it, but I will not upon that account
+leave you; my flesh shrinks, but my reason does
+not convince me of any personal risk.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And there is none to <em>you</em>, none to <em>you</em>, Sophie,
+believe it: in my maddest moments I could not
+hurt <em>you</em>.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>At this moment, Raymond, not knowing who
+was in the room, entered, started slightly on
+seeing his father on the bed with Sophie sitting
+by him, but quickly recovering himself, walked
+up to the bed, and inquired, as though nothing
+had happened,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“How are you now, sir?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Better, calmer, my boy—but oh! Raymond,
+my son, why had you not kept out of my way?
+You know, you <em>know</em> the risk you run; think if
+in my phrensy I were to do you a fatal injury,
+what would my after life be? Sophie, you see
+how fair and wan he is: he was more robust
+once, but in my first fit of phrensy while he was
+trying to save me from rushing into the street
+and exposing my madness, I dealt him a heavy
+blow upon the chest, injured his lungs, and he has
+never been well since.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But he will be well,” said Sophie, as, with
+her eyes full of tears, she turned and laid her
+hand caressingly on Raymond’s shoulder, “he
+will get well when he has finished his studies
+and returns home and finds his father restored
+to health.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But will that ever be, Sophie?” sadly inquired
+the unhappy man.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, yes, I am sure of it,” she said. “Why,
+though I do not know much about such things,
+yet it appears to me so reasonable that a malady
+concealed as yours was, should increase and
+strengthen, instead of subside, and that it should
+darken your mind, I am not at all surprised;
+and I believe that now, relieved by communication
+and sympathy, it will gradually leave you.”</p>
+
+<hr class='c013'>
+
+<p class='c008'>This mood also changed in a few hours. As
+the moon waned he relapsed into the gloom and
+reserve of his habitual manner. By the vigilance
+of Sophie and Raymond, little Hagar had
+been kept carefully out of his sight for some
+days, and now when she came into his presence,
+in his abstraction he scarcely observed her. Sophie
+felt uneasy as the Sabbath approached.
+From the relaxed nerves of the lately overstrained
+brain, Sophie knew that he could not
+prepare a sermon, and knew not what excuse
+could be made, and wondered what had been his
+course in former emergencies of this kind. She
+knew <em>not</em>, that during the very fervor and exaltation
+of insanity he had prepared a sermon, which
+when delivered on the next Sabbath would electrify
+the whole congregation with its soul-thrilling
+eloquence. That sermon was the talk of
+the whole county for weeks. This, the reader
+knows, is not an uncommon feature in the exalted
+stages of mania. The “Song of David,”
+written during a fit of insanity by Christopher
+Smart, a poet of the last century, with a rusty
+nail on the walls of his cell in the madhouse, is
+one of the most elevated and sublime strains of
+sacred poetry I ever read.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The first of September arrived. Raymond
+was gone, and the disbanded school of Sophie
+Churchill, or as we must now call her Mrs.
+Withers, re-assembled. It was continued for a
+few months until the end of the year, when
+Sophie found that she would have to give it up.
+In one respect a healthful change had passed over
+Mr. Withers. The violence of his periodical
+attacks of lunacy gradually subsided, but with
+this change grew another feature—an exclusive,
+absorbing, and constantly increasing affection
+for his gentle young wife. This, from his
+idiosyncrasy, became daily more jealous and
+exacting; he could not endure to have her out
+of his sight; he grew jealous, not only of the
+child who occupied a portion of her time, but of
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_43'>43</span>the very <em>business</em> by which at least half their
+income was provided.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>At the commencement of the Christmas holidays,
+Sophie broke up her school. Soon after
+this she received a severe shock in the news of
+the sudden death of her sister Rosalia and her
+husband, both of whom were carried off by a
+prevailing epidemic. This news was communicated
+by a letter from a lawyer of Baltimore,
+which letter also informed her that Mr. Withers
+and herself had been appointed guardians of the
+person and property of Rosalia Aguilar. This
+letter happened to come when the mind of Mr.
+Withers was in its least disturbed state, and
+therefore in a few days from its reception, Sophie
+left the Hall for Baltimore, with the purpose of
+bringing home the little Rosalia Aguilar, the
+second orphan niece committed to her charge.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XII.<br> <span class='c009'>ROSALIA.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“A lovely being scarcely formed or moulded,</div>
+      <div class='line'>A rose with all its sweetest leaves yet folded.”</div>
+      <div class='line in44'><span class='sc'>Byron.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>“Mind, Hagar, you must be attentive to your
+uncle, he is not well, my love, and you must do
+nothing to annoy him—now, will you promise
+me, Hagar?” had been the earnest injunction
+and question of Sophie as she was taking leave
+of little Hagar the morning of her departure for
+Baltimore. The child was silent and sulky.
+This argued ill.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, Hagar! will you let me depart in
+anxiety of mind when I may never see you
+again?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar was still inexorable.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Will you not be gentle and good with <em>Raymond’s</em>
+father?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes!” said she, raising her flashing eyes,
+“for Raymond’s sake.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Now it must not be inferred from this that
+there was unmitigated antagonism between the
+wild child and her solemn uncle-in-law, but there
+was that which was far more exasperating, a
+capricious and fretful attraction. Sometimes
+highly amused or deeply interested in the child’s
+strong, keen, and original genius, he would take
+her into great favor for days together, keep her
+always with him in his study, open to her
+hungry and greedy mind stores of food, win her
+affections, and then, at some fancied irreverence
+or impropriety on her part, would shake her
+from his hand as though she had been a viper,
+and drive her from the room.<a id='r3'></a><a href='#f3' class='c012'><sup>[3]</sup></a> And she would
+fly from the house, stung and suffering, to take
+refuge in the dark woods, among the grey rocks,
+or on the gravelly beach of the surging bay.
+The wild child took to the wild scenes of nature,
+as naturally as the squirrel takes to the trees, the
+bird to the air, or the fish to the water; and
+soon she was at home there, soon she learned to
+climb a tree with the swiftness and agility of a
+monkey; soon she learned, alone, to launch the
+boat, and wield the oar with a skill and grace
+that nothing but instinct could have taught, and
+in the very spirit of adventure she would make
+long voyages of discovery up and down the
+shores of the bay. And if a storm was brewing,
+if the sky was darkened and the thunder muttering
+in the distance, if danger was ahead, so
+much the more tempting and exciting was the
+voyage to the fearless child. The same spirit
+of adventure and inquiry would lead down a
+darksome forest-path, into the deepest dells, and
+most tangled thickets, and far away into the
+wildest solitudes of the wilderness; and the close
+hiss of a serpent, or the distant growl of a wolf,
+would only send color to the lips and cheeks,
+and light to the eyes of the girl, whose ardent
+soul panted for excitement. Do you ask where
+she got her fiery blood from? I do not know
+exactly, perhaps the spark was transmitted from
+some Egyptian long since. All I can tell is,
+that the same wild spirit of adventure had
+incited several of her ancestors from time to
+time to rebellion against church and state, had
+sent the founder of the American branch into the
+new country, and now occasionally broke out
+in a solitary member of the house, as in Hagar.
+And where was Sophie while her little charge
+roamed over river, creek, and bay, forest, moor,
+and rock, at large? Absorbed in the care of her
+lunatic husband, fancying Hagar safe at play,
+she remained in total ignorance of the child’s
+woodland sports and salt-water voyages.</p>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f3'>
+<p class='c008'><a href='#r3'>3</a>. Some people who are not lunatics treat their
+children in a less degree in the same capricious way;
+alternating unreasonable fondness with unmerited
+harshness; and nothing can be more fatal to the
+temper and character of a child.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie had fallen into that dangerous error so
+common to enthusiasts—the exclusive absorption
+in one duty, to the neglect of others. Sophie’s
+self-devotion would have been good as it seemed
+beautiful, had it been governed by <em>moderation</em>.
+It has been ingeniously said by Hassler that
+“from its position in the solar system, neither
+too close nor too far removed from the centre
+of light and heat—<em>moderation</em> would seem to
+be the peculiar virtue appropriate to our earth”—and
+when one thinks of it, it would seem the one
+thing needful for a better reason than mere
+locality. Moderation is the moral gauge, the
+moral regulator, and should be president of the
+debating society of the passions, propensities,
+sentiments, and virtues. Moderation is to
+the heart what reason is to the head. Moderation
+is just precisely that hair line, erroneously
+said to be invisible, that divides the right from
+the wrong, good from evil, and virtue from vice.
+For see: courage is a good thing, but carried
+beyond the bounds of moderation it becomes
+rashness—which is a bad thing. Cautiousness is
+also good, but beyond moderation it becomes
+cowardice—which is bad. Liberality on the
+other side of the line of moderation is prodigality.
+Even religion, piety, which is most excellent,
+stretched beyond the line of moderation
+becomes fanaticism, superstition—which is anything
+but worship and honor to the Creator. I
+can quote Scripture for that, “Be not righteous
+over much.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Poor Sophie was “over much,” and hence
+her self-sacrifice was not, as it might have been,
+productive of unmingled good. To Hagar it
+brought much evil, not only by leaving her to
+the pursuit of her own wild pleasures, but in
+subjecting her before she could understand it to
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_44'>44</span>the caprices of an unimpaired intellect excited
+by a nervous and bilious temperament. Her
+sentiments towards her uncle were at the time
+of Sophie’s departure a singular and most exasperating
+blending of affection and anger, if not
+of positive love and hatred. He would take
+her into favor for weeks, and just as she was
+growing confident and easy in his affection, he
+would throw her off without a cause, and treat
+her with freezing coldness for other weeks; her
+first feeling would be a mixed emotion of sorrow
+and anger, and that would subside into a
+cold dislike, fostered by his unkind manner;
+and then just as she was getting to hate him
+comfortably, feeling quite justified in entertaining
+the sentiment and quite independent in consequence,
+lo and behold, some unexpected, and as
+it would seem to her, some undeserved act of
+kindness or tenderness would melt the iceberg
+in her bosom, and she could weep in very penitence
+for all the coldness she had felt and
+shown.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>When Sophie left the Hall, Hagar, according
+to her promise, tamed her heart of fire and gave
+every gentle attention to her provoking uncle,
+who was now in one of his morose fits by reason
+of Sophie’s absence, and therefore was very
+hard to be satisfied. A week passed away,
+during which Hagar’s short stock of patience
+was nearly exhausted by receiving in return for
+all her attention cold looks, short replies, and
+half-suppressed grumblings—the dark sky and
+muttering thunder of an approaching storm.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Affairs were in this state at the Hall when
+the day of Sophie’s expected return arrived.
+The packet usually put out a little boat and
+landed passengers for the Hall upon the beach
+under the promontory. Early in the afternoon,
+Hagar’s falcon eye descrying a sail upon the
+bay, she ran down to the promontory, sped
+down the rocky declivity with the agility and
+swiftness of a kid, and stood upon the sunny
+beach to await its approach. The packet
+swiftly approached, stopped opposite the promontory,
+and a boat put out from her side, and
+was swiftly rowed to the beach.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar sprang to meet her aunt, who stepped
+upon the sand, leading a little girl of about
+three years of age, dressed in deep mourning.
+Hagar had sprang up into Sophie’s arms and
+given her a quick embrace, when the latter putting
+her down, said—“Kiss your cousin, Hagar.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, kiss me, Hagar,” said the little one,
+“kiss me, love me—I’ve got no mother.” And
+the large bright tears rolled down her rosy
+cheeks. Hagar caressed her as a kitten might
+caress a young dove, with its claws out. And
+the soft sensitive pet half evaded her wire-like
+clasp. “Oh! she is a city baby, used to be
+nursed by <em>white</em> nurses, and to step her little
+soft feet upon pavements, and to play with dolls
+in dressing-rooms; she shrinks from me, whose
+play-grounds are the forest, rocks, and waters—and
+whose toys are bows, arrows, and guns.”
+And Hagar bent forward and gazed with her
+keen eyes into the face of the timid child as
+they walked side by side towards the ascent of
+the cliff. Here even Sophie’s hand afforded little
+assistance to the unpractised feet of the
+infant as she toiled up the steep and dangerous
+cliff, glancing with terror at the sharp projecting
+points of the rocks sticking up ready to impale
+her soft form if she missed her footing. Hagar
+gazed at the little frightened toiler, half in pity,
+half in amusement, until suddenly the devil
+leaped into the eyes of the wild child, and seizing
+her cousin, she swung her upon her shoulder,
+and springing from the spot with the bound of a
+kid, scarcely touching the points of the rocks
+with her light feet, she flew up the steep knobs
+of the cliff—while Rose clung to her neck in
+deadly terror, and Sophie raised her hands in
+awe-struck astonishment. Arrived at the top
+safe, she set her down, panting, and tenderly as
+she knew how soothed her alarm. But from
+that moment through all her after life, Rosalia
+feared and shrank from Hagar.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Mr. Withers received Sophie with visible
+pleasure and affection; drawing her to his bosom
+and pressing a kiss upon her lips. But
+when he stooped to welcome her little charge
+Rosalia, he suddenly drew back, shaded his
+eyes with his hands, and gazed at her; then recovering
+himself, he welcomed the orphan with
+a few words of encouragement and re-assurance.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>After the children were in bed that night, and
+while Withers and Sophie sat by the parlor fire,
+he said, as if half musing, “The same intense
+blue eyes, the same golden hair, except that
+both are softer.” Then suddenly turning to Sophie,
+and speaking earnestly, he said—“Tell
+me, my guardian angel, is it an illusion of my
+wayward imagination, or does Rosalia resemble—resemble—?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Raymond?” suggested Sophie, with tact.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, Raymond,” he replied quickly. “You
+have seen it then, too?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, she <em>does</em> resemble Raymond—but that
+may be from her having the same colored hair
+and eyes, and the same delicately fair skin—which
+she takes from her mother, my sister Rosalia,
+who was of that complexion.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes—but the features, the expression, that
+peculiar arch of the delicate upper lip, that
+sweeping curve of the upper lids falling over
+‘eyes whose light might fix the glance of any
+seraph gazing not on God,’ and the elegantly
+carved hand and arm, and foot—the very form
+and features of—of—” he paused and sighed
+deeply—“of Fanny Raymond. Yes, of Fanny
+Raymond, as I knew her when a child—except
+that this child has more softness, tenderness—more
+lymph, if one might use the expression.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why do you not tell me all about it, Mr.
+Withers; then you would feel better, then there
+would be freer conversation between us; no
+starts, broken sentences and misapprehensions.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why do you wish to pry into my secrets?”
+asked he angrily, and rising, paced the floor
+with moody air and a dark brow. After a while
+he returned and sat down. Sophie went and
+sat beside him—and obtaining possession of his
+hand caressed it as she said gently,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I do not wish to pry into your secrets,
+believe me I do not—I only wish to give you
+peace; after so long a time, do you not know
+me for your friend?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, then, Sophie, do not exasperate me
+by questions of my past life; at some periods I
+have very little self-control, as you very well
+know.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>His moroseness increased from this hour,
+until a day or two after his disease broke out
+in phrensy. His attack had reached its crisis,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_45'>45</span>passed it, and declined into gloom as before.
+Sophie had successfully guarded him from
+public exposure. Again as before, a sermon
+written during the exalted stage of his insanity,
+had electrified the whole country. It seemed
+strange, but it was not unprecedented in the
+annals of insanity, that one who had well nigh
+lost his reason, should at some periods perceive
+the points of his subject with microscopic distinctness,
+and argue them with mathematical
+closeness and precision. It was less strange,
+that into this perfect body of logic, his burning
+imagination should cast a soul of eloquence, fire,
+and life. His fame was spread all through the
+neighboring counties, and crowds flocked to
+hear him preach. Could they at some seasons
+have seen his heart, or even entered his home!
+And yet they knew as much, and judged as
+correctly of him, as many of us know and
+judge of some around and near us every day.
+Still he accomplished much good. Sophie felt
+this, and took heart amid her troubles. Truth,
+pure <em>truth</em>, loses none of its force and point
+by any mode of conveyance through which it
+reaches its object. Truth diluted with falsehood,
+comes weak and faint through any medium.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>It would be vain to try to give you any fair
+idea of the winning beauty and gentle grace of
+the little Rosalia Aguilar, whom but to look
+upon was to love. She soon became the
+favorite of the whole house, from its solemn
+master down to old Cumbo in the kitchen.
+Hagar loved her at first, and tried to teach her
+to make and use little bows and arrows, and to
+coax her off to her forest haunts, or out on the
+bay; but when, after her repeated efforts, she
+found the gentle and timorous child still <a id='t45'></a>shrank
+from her offers of entertainment, she left her
+alone—and afterwards, when she felt that the
+loving little beauty was winning from her the
+little hold she had upon the affections of the
+household, her heart became bitter, and the
+jealous trait in her character grew and strengthened.
+More than ever she took to the desolate
+scenes about her native hall. She made wider
+excursions upon the bay, and deeper inroads into
+the forest—in the wild wantonness of her nature
+she would scale the most difficult rocks, and
+skim along the very edge of the most fearful
+precipices, or climb the tallest trees, and letting
+herself out upon the frailest branches, rock up and
+down between earth and sky, delighted to
+tamper with danger; or if the branch beneath
+her broke, save herself, monkey-like, by an agile
+spring and catch at the nearest bough. Thus
+the keen perceptive faculties of the child were
+only employed in perfecting her animal strength
+and agility. And Sophie? had Sophie quite
+abandoned her? No; but occupied with her
+unhappy and exacting husband, and with her
+younger and more helpless niece, Sophie seeing
+Hagar always well, left her very much to herself.
+And indeed the wild child was always
+rather beyond the control of her gentle relatives.
+Thus passed the winter.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The close intimacy that had subsisted between
+the little families of Heath Hall and Grove Cottage,
+had been considerably interrupted since the
+marriage of Sophie. She wished to preserve the
+secret of her husband, and therefore rather discouraged
+the continuance of the hitherto almost
+daily intercourse between the families. Emily
+also felt an aversion to the minister that had an
+influence in severing the close intimacy of the
+friends. And Augustus, too, being in daily
+attendance upon a school three miles in the
+opposite direction, found little chance to visit
+his old playmate Hagar. Emily, however,
+though her visits were few and far between, still
+felt in all its devotion her warm affection for
+Sophie. Other neighbors, mere acquaintances,
+came occasionally to the Hall, and sometimes
+spent a day there, or a day and night after the
+manner of country neighborhood visiting, but from
+these careless and uninterested observers Sophie
+succeeded in keeping her misfortune secret. The
+two children were objects of considerable attention
+from these visitors, and the striking contrast
+of their persons, manners, and characters, noted
+and commented upon, <em>in their presence</em>. The
+winning beauty and sweet confiding sociability
+of the fair cherub, and the wild shy reserve of
+the dark child, were compared, and sagely commented
+upon—and conclusions very disparaging
+to Hagar, drawn by these superficial critics who
+did not understand her. Indeed the contrast
+between these two children was so striking, that
+they were never passed by strangers or servants
+without some such remark as this—“Rosalia is
+beautiful, lovely—but that other child is <em>very</em>
+homely.” It is very wrong to make remarks on
+the personal beauty or ugliness of children in
+their hearing. The effect is invariably injurious.
+It is highly reprehensible to draw <em>invidious comparisons</em>
+between the beauty of children, especially
+before their faces. This thoughtlessness
+is fraught with the direst consequences. When
+you say so carelessly in their presence, that
+“Anne is prettier than Jane,” and look at Anne
+as though her accidental beauty were a virtue,
+and look at Jane as though she were in fault—think
+that into the fertile soil of the children’s
+hearts you have dropped the seeds of evil—the
+seed of vanity in the heart of Anne, the seed of
+envy into that of Jane, and the germ of discord
+into both. Upon Rosalia and Hagar these
+thoughtless remarks were producing the worst
+effects. Rosalia, loved, petted and praised, by
+the family, the servants and visitors, with all her
+gentleness and sweetness, was growing vain,
+selfish, and sensual—and loved best of all things
+to lie in some old lady’s soft lap and suck sugarplums,
+while the said old lady caressed and
+praised her. And she was a most endearing
+child; unlike other spoiled and petted children,
+she never gave way to temper—she was much
+too gentle for that. She was penetrable, sensitive,
+not high spirited. Sometimes in his wilful moods
+Mr. Withers would repulse her, though never
+with the asperity with which he drove Hagar
+from his presence; and she would weep, and
+come back, and coax and caress him until the
+madman, subdued by the power of love, would
+take her to his bosom—where nestling herself
+cosily, she would fall into the deep sleep—the
+reaction of her excitement; while his own
+stormy soul, mesmerized, would subside into
+calmness. And daily his love for her and his
+aversion to Hagar increased. Upon Hagar, too,
+these influences were producing the worst effects.
+Jealousy and suspicion of the few she loved,
+scorn and contempt for the opinions of others—neglect
+of her person as little worth attention,
+and a morbid desire to be loved exclusively—these
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_46'>46</span>were some of the evil fruits of her
+mal-education.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XIII.<br> <span class='c009'>THE ATTIC.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“An old joy of childhood and youth, a cat-like love of garrets.”</div>
+      <div class='line in24'><span class='sc'>Emerson.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>One more circumstance, patient reader, and I
+have done tiring you with the squabbles of children.
+It was one that more particularly introduced
+Hagar to the notice of Mrs. May, and
+saved her from degenerating quite into a savage.
+It occurred some time after the events recorded
+in the last chapter. But just let me briefly sum
+up the history of the intervening time. The disease
+of Mr. Withers had changed in these
+respects—he was no longer subject to violent
+outbreaks; but his malady, wanting that vent,
+had only deepened into gloom and moroseness.
+He had lost his eloquence and power in the
+pulpit to that degree, that a curate had to be
+appointed to assist him, and his pay deducted
+from the minister’s small salary. This curate
+boarded with Emily. The farm, only partly reclaimed,
+had been suffered to relapse into desolation.
+The income arising from Sophie’s
+school had been, of course, cut off at its discontinuance;
+and the family at Heath Hall found
+themselves in straitened circumstances. This
+was felt more heavily, as the continued exactions
+of Mr. Withers upon the time and attention of
+his gentle and complying wife, left her little
+opportunity for those economies and contrivances
+by which a thrifty housekeeper makes the most
+of a narrow income. Raymond had not once
+visited the Hall, though he frequently wrote.
+Emily May, repulsed by what she supposed the
+coldness of Sophie, altogether absented herself.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty was absent on a voyage with his uncle,
+Lieutenant Wilde, who had made one visit to
+Grove Cottage, but without calling upon or
+even inquiring after Sophie.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>It was just before the expected return of
+Gusty, near the close of the winter, when Hagar
+was driven in from her rambles by the arising of
+a furious storm. She betook herself to the
+garret, her place of refuge in times of trouble.
+Poor little Rose, repulsed by the gloom and ill-temper
+of “uncle,” had already hidden herself
+there; and the children sat before the fireless
+hearth—the desolate children in the desolate
+scene. It was a large, low, square room, with
+two deep dormer windows facing the east, and
+looking far out upon the bay—with a dark
+cuddie under the eaves of the western wall—with
+a rude fire-place on the south, and opposite
+on the north, the door leading from the room
+into the narrow passage and down the stairs.
+The walls were very dark, and the plastering
+broken here and there. Between the two dormer
+windows, and close to the floor, was a large
+crevice in the wall, through which you might
+look into the long dark space between the
+wall and the edge of the roof, a space corresponding
+to the cuddie on the opposite side.
+Strange sounds were sometimes heard in this
+place, and through the crevice. Hagar, that
+child of shadows, would look with mysterious
+awe—for with its boundaries lost in obscurity,
+to her it seemed a dark profound sinking through
+the house down to the centre of the earth, while
+her imagination loved to people it with ghosts,
+gnomes, and all the subterranean demons she
+had read of in her favorite book, the Arabian
+Nights. “Listen! listen to the spirits,” she
+would sometimes whisper in wantonness to her
+little cousin.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I hear nothing but the rats in the cuddie,”
+would the matter of fact Rose reply. The
+floor of the attic was bare, the planks rude and
+rough, and worn apart in some places, leaving
+dark apertures, down which Hagar would look
+as into an interminable abyss, the haunt of her
+favorite gnomes. There was no furniture in this
+room except an old trunk without a top, that
+sometimes served Rosalia for a baby-house, and
+sometimes reversed, for a seat. Upon this trunk
+the children were now seated. The storm still
+raged around the old house-top—the shingles
+were reft off, whirled aloft, and sent clattering
+like hail-stones to the ground; the wind howled
+and shrieked about the walls, and the old
+windows and rafters writhed and groaned in the
+blast, like the wail of lost souls, and the laugh
+of exultant fiends. The rain was dashed in
+floods against the crazy windows, and the
+children sprinkled through their crevices. The
+water began to stream from the leakages in the
+ceiling, and to collect in puddles in the corners
+of the room. These puddles enlarging and
+approaching each other, threatened to overflow
+the floor. The children drew their trunk upon
+the fireless hearth. Rose’s little chubby arms
+and legs were red with cold.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! how the wind’s a-blowing. I am
+almost frozen,” wept Rose. And they were.
+“Let’s go into the parlor,” suggested Rose.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar looked at her with astonishment, that
+she should propose to “beard the lion” in his
+present mood.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, into the parlor,” persisted the child.
+“I’ll bet you anything that uncle will let us stay
+in the parlor this evening, and warm ourselves
+at the fire; it is so very cold, you know.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well! it is <em>my</em> house, anyhow, and so for
+your sake, Rose, we <em>will</em> go down.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>And hand in hand the shivering children left
+the attic, passed down four flights of back stairs,
+and went to the parlor door, and Rosalia peeped
+timidly in. It was the same old parlor, papered
+with the Christian martyrs that I have before
+described; and there sat the tall thin figure of
+Mr. Withers, dark, solemn, and lowering; and
+opposite sat Sophie, with her soft brown eyes
+bent over her knitting. And, oh! sight of
+luxury to the half-frozen child,—there was a
+glorious, glowing hickory fire, crackling, blazing,
+and roaring in the chimney. The children
+opened the door and passed in, carefully closing
+it after them; they approached the fire, Hagar
+with an air of defiance, Rose with a look of
+deprecation. Sophie looked at the children with
+remorseful tenderness, and made room for them,
+unluckily, between herself and Withers, thereby
+attracting his attention. He turned, and knitting
+his brows until they met across his nose, and
+fixing his eyes sternly on the children, he asked,
+in a rough tone—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_47'>47</span>“What are you doing here?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Warming ourselves!” exclaimed Hagar,
+raising her eyes, flashing, to his face.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He frowned darkly on her, and half started
+from his seat, while Rose cowered at her side,
+and Sophie grew pale.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Be off with yourselves,” he said, in a stern
+under tone.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar planted her feet firmly on the ground,
+while Rosalia slunk away. Sophie arose, and
+saying, in a low tone, “Take Rose to the kitchen
+fire, dear Hagar,” prepared to follow them.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Come back, Sophie!” exclaimed Withers,
+in an excited tone. And she sat down with a
+patient, despairing look, merely motioning to
+Hagar by an imploring gesture, to leave the
+room.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well! let’s go into the kitchen and warm
+ourselves at Aunt Cumbo’s fire,” suggested the
+ever hopeful Rosalia.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>They left the parlor by a back door that led
+through a sort of closet into the kitchen. The
+storm was still raging, but a good fire was burning
+on the kitchen hearth, and the tea-kettle was
+singing over the blaze, and old Cumbo was
+standing at a table kneading dough.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Are you going to have biscuits for supper,
+Aunt Cumbo?” asked Rosalia, in a coaxing tone,
+as she approached the table.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Now, what you comin’ out here botherin’
+arter me for, when I am gettin’ supper—go ’long
+in de house wid you.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The old woman happened to be in a bad
+humor.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But, Aunt Cumbo, we are cold—we want to
+warm ourselves,” coaxed Rose. “Mayn’t we
+warm ourselves by your fire?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, no, no! kitchen ain’t no place for white
+children, no how you can fix it, so go ’long in
+wid you.” And the rough old woman came
+bustling up to the fire-place, drove the little girls
+away, and began to set her spider and spider lid
+to heat.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No; this <em>is</em> no place for us,” said Hagar,
+who disdained a controversy with a menial; and
+the children left the passage.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Rosalia’s teeth were chattering, and she felt
+as though the cold had reached her heart.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I wish that we were both dead, Hagar,” said
+she, in a whimpering tone.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I don’t,” said Hagar, looking half in pity,
+half in scorn, at the wailing child. “Nor must
+you. You must live. You are to marry the
+President of the United States, you know.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, yes!” exclaimed the vain child, suddenly
+brightening up, “so I am! Cumbo, when
+she ain’t cross, says I’m pretty enough to marry
+him or his betters! And then, Hagar! oh,
+Hagar! then I am going to have a good fire all
+the time, in every room in the house; and I will
+wear <em>whole</em> shoes and stockings <em>every</em> day, and
+<em>always</em> have biscuits for supper. And—never
+mind, Hagar, you shall live with me, too; and
+when I think of that, oh, Hagar! When I
+think of that, I have such a—such a—what do
+you call it, that keeps people up, and keeps ’em
+alive?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hope.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes! ‘never give up.’ You know Gusty
+Wilde says ‘never give up,’ and I am agoing to
+‘never give up.’ I am going down into the cellar,
+now, to pick up chips. Tarquins has been
+down there sawing wood, and I know there must
+be chips there; and we can pick up enough to
+make us a fire, and we can make a nice fire and
+tell stories.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>And with the elasticity of childhood she led
+the way down to the cellar. It was a large,
+dark, musty old place, with an area partitioned
+off, in which milk, butter, fresh meat, &#38;c., were
+kept in summer; in winter it was usually two
+feet deep in water; now, however, it was nearly
+dry. It was originally intended for a kitchen, and
+was built in the old-fashioned English style, with a
+large grate in the fire-place, with ovens each side,
+having heavy iron doors. These deep ovens, the
+bounds of which were out of sight in the darkness,
+seemed to Hagar like the entrances to subterranean
+caverns, the abode of ghosts. To
+Rose they were merely brick closets, that smelt
+very musty and unpleasant. The brick pavement
+of the cellar was decayed away, and green
+with mould. It was, however, a favorite resort
+with the children, for there they were free from
+persecution. They entered, and Rosalia began
+to fill her apron with chips, when Hagar spied an
+old worn-out flag basket, and drew it towards
+them. They both went to work, and soon filled
+the little basket, and Rosalia, taking it up in her
+chubby arms, began to toil up stairs with it.
+Hagar would have taken it from—but “No,
+Hagar,” said she, “I am afraid to go into the
+kitchen again. I’ll carry this, and <em>you</em> go and
+steal a coal of fire, and bring the broom, so that
+we can sweep up the slop.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar went into the kitchen, which she found
+vacant. Cumbo had gone to the spring.
+Taking a coal of fire in the tongs, and seizing
+the broom, she fled up stairs into the attic, where
+little Rose was already busied in clearing the
+damp rubbish from the fire-place. She received
+the coal from Hagar, and kneeling down, placed
+it on the hearth, collected around it the smallest
+chips, and blew it. A little blaze soon flickered
+on the hearth. She continued to add more chips
+as the weak flame would bear it. In the meantime
+Hagar had swept up the room. The storm
+had subsided. The little fire was burning cheeringly.
+The children drew the old trunk before
+it, and sat down, their arms around each other’s
+waist; their little toes stretched out to the fire;
+their countenances wearing that satisfied consciousness
+of having toiled for and won the
+comforts they were enjoying. And after all, it
+was but a little fire in a dreary old attic. They
+were not permitted to enjoy this long. Steps
+were heard approaching their retreat. The door
+opened, and Tar, or as he called himself, Tarquinius
+Superbus—the colored boy of all work—entered.
+Rose ran to her basket of chips, and
+placed herself before it.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What you dem do wid dat broom you stole
+from de kitchen, you little thieves, you? Nex’
+time you gim me trouble for come up here arter
+you dem’s nonsense, I tell Mrs. Widders, an’ ef
+dat don’t do I tell <em>Mr.</em> Widders—<em>you</em> see!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>With that he espied the broom, and in going
+around to take it, his eyes fell upon the little fire,
+and the small basket of chips. Poor Rose
+looked guilty and dismayed, but held desperately
+on to her property. Hagar watched him with a
+steady eye.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“My good gracious ‘live—did any <em>soul</em> ever
+see de like? What <em>will</em> Mr. Widders say?
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_48'>48</span>A-wastin’ all de wood! Here’s chips enough to
+kindle all de fires in de mornin’.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>And with a perspective glance at his morning’s
+work, when the basket of chips would be very
+convenient, the rude boy stooped down to take
+possession of the prize. Rosalia held tight her
+treasure. He jerked it from her, and in doing
+so, tore her little tender arms with the rough
+flags of the old basket. Having lost his temper
+in the struggle, the boy then went to the chimney,
+and taking the tongs, scattered the blazing
+chips, and raking the damp rubbish from the corners,
+extinguished the fire. Then with his prize
+he marched out of the room. Rose was sobbing
+and wiping the blood from her wounded arm.
+Hagar was still and silent, but the fire was
+kindling in her dark eyes; her gipsy blood was
+rising; at last she started after him, overtook
+him half way down the stairs, and seized the
+basket; he pulled it from her hold and fled, she
+pursuing him into the kitchen. To end the matter,
+he went up to the chimney, turned up the
+basket, and shook down the chips into the fire.
+Her gipsy blood was up! She ran to him as he
+was stooping over his work of wanton cruelty,
+and giving him a sudden push, sent him into the
+fire. The basket was crushed under his hands,
+and saved them from being badly burnt. He
+struggled, recovered himself, and arose. Just at
+this moment Cumbo re-entered the kitchen, and
+Rosalia, who had followed her cousin, came in.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What’s de matter now?” inquired the old
+woman.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar was too proud and Rosalia too frightened
+to speak.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Tar gave an exaggerated account of the whole
+affair, as he brushed the smut and ashes from his
+sleeves. He dwelt particularly on the <em>waste</em>
+with which “de childer had burned up all de
+light wood for kindlin’.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Cumbo turned up the whites of her eyes in
+horror at the depredation.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“It was only a few little chips that we picked
+up, and they were damp; and see how he
+scratched my arms!” said Rosalia, holding them
+up to view.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Cumbo having sent in supper, felt herself in a
+better humor; and thought herself prepared to
+render judgment with marvellous impartiality
+and wisdom, which, seating herself, and resting
+her hands on her knees, she did to the following
+effect:</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Tarquinus Perbus, you go right in house an’
+wait on table. Massa Widders, he callin’ for
+you. An’ Rose, you putty little angel, you come
+here an’ sit on old mammy’s lap, and toast your
+poor little footy toes before dis nice fire; mammy’s
+got a warm biscuit for you in her bosom,
+too. An’ Hagar, you ugly, bad ting, go long
+right trait out dis here kitchen wid yourself.
+You’re so bad I can’t a-bear you—but ugly people
+always <em>is</em> bad.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Now, if she had said bad people always are
+ugly, she might have come nearer the truth, or
+at least taught a better lesson.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I did not make myself, God made me,” said
+Hagar.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“He didn’t! he never made anything half so
+ugly and bad! De debil made you. <em>He</em> made
+my beautiful, lovely, good little Rose. Some
+ob dese days she shall be de Presiden’s wife, and
+<em>you</em>—you shall be her waitin’ maid, cause nobody’s
+ever gwine to marry <em>you</em>—you’re too
+ugly and hateful. Go long straight out dis here
+kitchen now, I don’t want nuffin ’tall to do wid
+you.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar left the kitchen, casting back a look of
+inquiry at Rosalia; but the little girl was petted,
+coaxed, flattered, and tempted by the warm fire,
+and the prospect of the nice biscuit, and preferred
+to keep her seat.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar took her lonely way up the four flights
+of stairs that led to the attic. Arrived there she
+sat down moodily upon the trunk, resting her
+elbows upon her knees, and holding her thin face
+between the palms of her hands; her black elf
+locks were hanging wildly about her shoulders,
+and her eyes were wide open, and fixed upon the
+floor in a stare. She was bitterly reflecting that
+with a really kind-hearted aunt she was suffering
+all the evils of orphanage, abused by menials,
+pinched with hunger, and half frozen with cold.
+She was wondering, too, how it was that the
+good God had made her so ugly that she could
+not be loved, and therefore could not be good.
+Poor child, she never dreamed of general admiration,
+she only wished to be loved; and she had no
+one to tell her that the beauty which wins permanent
+affection is the beauty of goodness; that
+goodness will soften the hardest, and intellect
+light up the dullest features; that though physical
+beauty may excite passion, and intellect attract
+admiration, only goodness can win everlasting
+love. Within the last few months, such scenes as
+I have described were constantly occurring, and
+their evil influence fell on all the children’s after
+life. Some of the most serious defects in their
+characters, some of the most deplorable errors in
+their conduct, and the most dreadful misfortune of
+their lives, might be traced back to the injudicious,
+careless remarks of visitors, and the capricious
+blame or praise of servants, to whose care or neglect
+they were so much left. When I recollect
+the strong and decided bias given in childhood to
+my own character by people and circumstances
+over which I had no sort of control, and against
+whose evil influence I could make no sort of
+resistance; when I suffer by the effect of impressions
+received in infancy, which neither time,
+reason, nor religion have been able to efface—which
+only sorrow could impair by bruising
+the tablet; knowing as I know the tender impressibility
+of infancy, feeling as I feel the indelibility
+of such impressions, I tremble for the
+unseen influences that may surround my own
+young children—aye, even for the chance word
+dropped by stranger lips, and heard by infant
+ears; for that word may be a fruitful seed that
+shall spring up into a healthful vine, or a upas
+tree, twenty years after it is sown. Infancy is
+a fair page upon which you may write—goodness,
+happiness, heaven, or—sin, misery, hell.
+And the words once written, no chemical art
+can erase them. The substance of the paper
+itself must be rubbed through by the file of suffering
+before the writing can be effaced. Infancy
+is the soft metal in the moulder’s hands; he may
+shape it in the image of a fiend, or the form of an
+angel—and when finished, the statue hardens into
+rock, which nothing but the hammer of God’s
+providence can break; nothing but the fire of
+God’s providence can melt for re-moulding.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <span class='pageno' id='Page_49'>49</span>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XIV.<br> <span class='c009'>GUSTY.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“Thine was the shout! the song! the burst of joy!</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Which sweet from childhood’s rosy lips resoundeth,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Thine was the eager spirit naught could cloy,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>And the glad heart from which all grief reboundeth.”</div>
+      <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>Mrs. Norton</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>There she sat motionless. The only sounds
+were the beating of the rain against the windows,
+and the racing of the rats through the cuddies.
+At last the noise of footsteps tearing up the
+stairs, and a voice shouting a sea-song startled
+the wild girl—she looked up just as Gusty Wilde
+burst into the room, and running up to her,
+caught her around the neck, and gave her a
+boisterous salute, exclaiming breathlessly,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I just got home last night, Hagar! and have
+been wanting to run over and see you so much,
+but mother detained me this morning, and I
+couldn’t, but you see as soon as the storm subsided
+a little I ran over here, ’specially as mother
+gives me a tea-party this evening in honor
+of my coming home. She has baked a plum
+cake, and I have brought you home a monkey;
+so, Hagar, you must return with me. I came
+on purpose to fetch you; <em>you</em> won’t be afraid to
+cross the swollen river.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He was a fine, noble looking boy, stoutly
+built, with a full face, rosy complexion, clear
+merry blue eyes, and an abundance of soft yellow
+curls clustering thick around a brow of almost
+feminine whiteness. He wore a sailor’s
+blue jacket, white trousers, and tarpaulin hat.
+He looked at Hagar for her answer. Observing
+now for the first time the girl’s disconsolate
+air, he sat down beside her, pulled off his tarpaulin
+hat, and placing it between his knees, put
+his arm quietly around the neck of the child,
+and kissing her dark brow gently, inquired,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hagar, what is the matter?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She did not reply, but remained in her first
+posture with her elbows on her knees, her chin
+propped up by her hands, and her black elf
+locks streaming down each side of her face. He
+gently put her hair back from her face, and
+tucking it behind her ears, asked kindly,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Where is Rosalia, Hagar, and why are you
+up here in this cold, damp room alone?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“How did you know that I was here?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I met Tarquinius in the entry as I came in
+the house, and inquiring for you the first one, he
+told me you were here—then I ran in, upset
+Father Withers in my haste, kissed Sophie, and
+breaking away ran up here to find you. But
+where is Rosalia? I expected to find her with
+you?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Rosalia is in old Cumbo’s lap warming herself
+before the kitchen fire, and eating biscuits—and
+I—am I not always alone—when storms
+and floods drive me to the house; but <em>they</em>,”
+added she, “shall not send me in again; the
+wild beasts bear their raging, and so will I.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why don’t you stay in the parlor?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“In the parlor?” laughed the girl, bitterly;
+“Mr. Withers’s mastiffs and bulldogs stay in the
+parlor, the old tabby cat reposes on the rug before
+the parlor fire, and Aunt Sophie’s pet rabbit
+has its cushion in the corner, but I, I am a parlor
+ornament, ain’t I?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! Hagar, don’t do so! it is so very ugly
+in a little girl to act that way, laughing and jibing
+and jeering with so much scorn and bitterness.
+Now tell me why you are banished from the
+parlor, if you <em>are</em> banished.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Look at me! this is the best suit of clothes
+I have in the world; do you think Mr. Withers
+is going to let me stay in the parlor looking like
+<em>this</em>, strict as <em>he</em> is?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty glanced down at her torn and rusty
+calico dress—and at her, and at her little feet
+protruding through her old stockings and shoes.
+Then he said seriously, as he looked at her,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Lord, Hagar, I don’t know now how I shall
+take you in that trim. But why, child, did you
+not stay at the kitchen fire with Rose? That
+would have been far more comfortable than this
+wet, cold garret.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I was driven from the kitchen, Gusty—driven
+from the kitchen because I paid Tarquin well
+for hurting Rosalia—and only think, Gusty, <em>just</em>
+think, Rosalia, who should have stuck to me,
+remained with the old woman who drove me
+off for protecting <em>her</em>,” and the girl turned her
+eyes flashing with scorn and bitterness towards
+the boy, who remarked—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Rose did that, Hagar? It was not like Rose
+to do that. I shall not love Rose if she becomes
+mean and selfish; but it can’t be so; something
+remains to be explained.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, yes,” laughed the wild child, “something
+remains to be explained—she was hungry
+and cold—and Cumbo offered to feed and warm
+her.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>How unusual and how frightful is a sneer on
+a child’s countenance, and oh! what a tale of
+perverted nature it tells! After a while her
+countenance relapsed into its serious cast, and
+she said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Since you left, Gusty, I have been quite
+alone; everybody has fallen away from me and
+gone to Rosalia. Every one dislikes or forgets
+me, and every one loves Rosalia.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I have not fallen away from you, Hagar.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No dear Gusty, <em>you</em> have not—perhaps you
+<em>will</em>, though, when you see more of Rose—”
+added she, sadly and doubtingly.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>There was springing in her bosom the germ
+of that doubt of all things and all persons that
+in after life became a distinguishing and fatal
+trait in her character. Children are born with
+trust. The confidingness of childhood is proverbial,
+but like all other childish instincts, it is
+young and delicate, and easily crushed to death.
+Children <em>feel</em> before they can <em>reason</em>, and the
+impressions of childhood being well nigh ineffaceable,
+the deceived and betrayed child is often
+parent to the sceptical and scoffing man or woman.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I will <em>never</em> fall away from you, Hagar, nor
+can I see how Rosalia can draw me away.
+Can’t I love you <em>both</em>? And now, little Hagar,
+you must let me comb your hair and take you
+over to mother’s to tea. I should like to take
+Rose, too, but she is too tender to brave the
+weather this evening.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>And in all simplicity he took from his pocket
+a little comb, and began to comb out Hagar’s
+elf locks. With wondrous skill he smoothed
+and arranged her long hair into a simple knot
+behind her head, and passing his hands two or
+three times over the surface of her hair, said
+cheerfully,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_50'>50</span>“There, now, you little thing, why don’t you
+take pains with yourself? You look so much
+prettier, now that your hair is shining like blue-black
+satin, so that I can see my face in it.
+And, oh, Hagar! how I wish that they would let
+you come and live with my mother; mother
+wants a little girl so much, especially if I get
+my midshipman’s warrant and go to sea again.
+Oh, if you were only with mother, how good
+and happy she would make you—and you would
+grow pretty, too, for good girls always grow
+pretty. There, you are smiling! do you happen
+to know that you have the most beautiful smile
+in the world, Hagar?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I know that Rosalia has, for everybody says
+so.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, Rose has a sweet, soft smile, like summer
+sunbeams on flowers; pretty enough, and
+common enough; but <em>your</em> smile, Hagar—I’ll
+tell you what your smile is like. I have been at
+sea, near a wild coast full of frightful breakers,
+shelving rocks, dark cliffs, and murky caverns,
+with a stormy sea, a blackened sky, the whole
+landscape dark, gloomy, and terrible, until suddenly
+out breaks the sun, lighting up the scene
+which then becomes wild, grand, sublime!
+Such is your face, and such your smile, Hagar.
+I gaze breathless at the wild beauty of both.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Just at this moment, into the room broke Rosalia,
+and running up to Hagar threw her arms
+about her neck, exclaiming, breathlessly, while
+she thrust a biscuit into her hands,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Here, here, Hagar! I only just waited till
+she gave me the biscuit she promised, and then
+I came away and brought it to you! Here,
+here, take it, Hagar! I ain’t hungry—no, not a
+bit.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Thus would the sweet child’s native goodness
+sometimes break through the shell of selfishness
+that was crusting over it. Hagar, with one of
+her quick revulsions of feeling, burst into tears,
+and pressed the little one to her bosom, and
+Gusty, snatching her up in his arms, gleefully
+exclaimed while he ran around the room with
+her,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“There, there, there! Hurrah! I knew it.
+I could have sworn my soul away upon the
+soundness of my little Rosebud! I knew there
+was not a really selfish drop of blood in little
+Rose’s tender heart!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Then returning and setting her down, he said,
+“Come, the rain has quite ceased, the sun is setting
+in golden glory, mother’s cake is done, and
+her tea is ready, and she is waiting for me, I
+know. Come, Rose shall go, too. I will carry
+her in my arms. And Hagar, you little savage,
+you can trip on before, and when I have got you
+both safe at the cottage, I can send word to Sophie,
+and keep you all night.” So saying he
+led the children from the attic.</p>
+
+<hr class='c013'>
+
+<p class='c008'>Emily May was seated in the sober glory of
+her neat parlor, awaiting the return of Gusty.
+The round tea-table was covered with a white
+damask cloth, and graced by a little silver tea
+service. The plum cake stood in the centre.
+It was with surprise and pain that she received
+the children. Ignorant of the cause of Sophie’s
+neglect of them, she blamed her in her heart for
+it, and determined upon the next day to ride
+over, and use an old friend’s privilege of speaking
+to her upon the subject. The next day that
+visit was made, and Emily saw the wasted, sorrowing,
+patient look of her friend, the truth was
+partly guessed, and she proposed to take the
+children, and especially Hagar, under her own
+surveillance. To this proposition, Sophie tearfully
+and gratefully acceded. Encouraged by
+having gained this point, and incited by her love
+of children, she went a step further and proposed
+that both the children should be sent to the cottage
+as pupils, and share with Gusty the instructions
+of the young curate, her boarder. This
+plan was submitted to the decision of Mr.
+Withers, and having received his acquiescence,
+was immediately carried into effect. Soon the
+most favorable change was apparent in the
+children. Rosalia’s beauty bloomed like her
+type, the rose, refreshed by showers and sunbeams.
+Hagar’s black hair no longer hung rusty
+with exposure, in tangled elf locks over her
+shoulders, but was banded in satin-like folds.
+Their characters also seemed to undergo modification.
+Hagar retained all her individuality,
+her brave, free, wild spirit, her rather amazonian
+tastes, but lost the harshness and bitterness that
+made no part of it. Rosalia retained all her
+delicacy, her tenderness, yes, and sensuality, but
+lost the selfishness not native to her gentle character,
+or at least these things <em>seemed</em> so. The
+evils growing in the children’s hearts were <em>cut
+down</em>; whether they were <em>uprooted</em> or not is
+doubtful. Seeds of evil once taking root in
+children’s hearts are almost ineradicable. Years
+pass away.</p>
+
+<hr class='c013'>
+
+<p class='c008'>There are times when the current of existence
+frets and boils along the rocky channel of
+anxiety, among the rugged crags of care, grief,
+and wrong; there are times when it dashes
+thundering over the precipice of some awful
+crime or calamity—times when it stagnates in
+the fœtid marshes of indolence and despair—times
+when it winds on between the verdant
+banks of peace and amid the blooming isles of
+pleasure—and times when, scarce marked by
+ragged crag or verdant isle, it flows on without
+joy or sorrow, straight towards the ocean of
+eternity. Even thus calmly flowed the lifestream
+of Sophie. Relieved from gnawing
+anxiety upon the children’s account, she was
+able to give a more cheerful attention to her
+husband, and soon the more happy effects were
+apparent. The gloom into which he had fallen
+was dissipated by the sunshine of her smiles.
+She now became conscious of a calm, pure, and
+holy affection for him, such as angels may be
+supposed to feel for sorrowing man—such as we
+feel for objects we have nursed and cherished.
+This sentiment deepened into tenderness as she
+saw—what she could not fail to see—that as
+the rays of intellect emanated clearer and clearer
+from his brain, they but served to reveal the
+blackness of the shadow of death gathering
+thick and thicker around him. And it was
+beautiful yet sorrowful to see how as the sun of
+reason shone forth, all those clouds and fogs of
+selfishness and suspicion vanished from his
+mind. This is not strange or even unusual in
+the history of mental disease. It is a well
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_51'>51</span>known fact that insanity frequently entirely reverses
+the natural character; thus, under its influence
+the disinterested grow selfish and exacting,
+while the selfish become generous, the timid
+bold, and the bold timid, and most frequently
+the gentle and sensitive grow harsh and violent.
+His gloom softened into sadness, into seriousness,
+into resignation, which soon brightened
+into gentle cheerfulness, which but one thing in
+the world could ruffle, the sight of Rosalia
+Aguilar; then indeed the tide of memory,
+laden with bitterness, would flow over his soul
+filling it with sorrow. Upon this account Rosalia
+became a permanent inmate of Grove Cottage;
+while Hagar, no longer repulsed by the caprices
+of his disease, became his most assiduous,
+and next to Sophie his best beloved nurse and
+companion. Thus they “brightened the links
+of love, of sympathy;” <em>and this returning
+confidence and affection of her uncle, gave Hagar
+the antidote for the poison of her soul</em>.
+Thenceforth in Hagar’s vision “anger, hatred,
+and malice, and all uncharitableness,” were
+greater or less degrees of moral insanity.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XV.<br> <span class='c009'>THE MOOR.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“—October, heaven’s delicious breath,</div>
+      <div class='line'>When woods begin to wear the crimson leaf,</div>
+      <div class='line'>And suns grow meek, and the meek sun grows brief,</div>
+      <div class='line'>And the year smiles as drawing near its death.”</div>
+      <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>Bryant.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>It was near the close of a day late in the
+month of October. The level rays of the setting
+sun glanced across the green waters of the bay,
+tinting their rippling waves with emerald and jet—across
+the brown waste of the heath, mottling
+its rugged surface with gold and bronze upon
+the decayed edifice of the old Hall, painting its
+rusty walls in strongly contrasted colors of red
+and black, while its tall windows flashed back in
+lines of shining light the dazzling beams—and
+upon the distant forest whose variegated foliage
+reflected in topaz and in ruby light the day’s
+declining glory. It was a still, refulgent scene,
+the good night smile of nature. Presently the
+still life of the landscape was enlivened by two
+equestrian figures, descending the slope of the
+heath from the Hall, while their shadows
+stretched lengthening behind them over the dry
+and burnished turf. The figure on the right
+hand side was that of a youth of some eighteen
+years, clad in the undress uniform of a midshipman—whom
+on near view we recognise as our
+old acquaintance, Gusty Wilde May. By his
+side rode a beautiful girl of about fourteen years
+of age, in a graceful riding habit of blue cloth.
+She was rather full formed, very fair, with deep
+blue eyes, and wavy hair of pale gold floating
+about a forehead of transparent whiteness, with
+a soft, gentle manner, and a pleading air in the
+curve of her rosy lips and the downward sweep
+of her snowy eyelids.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The youth and the maiden each rode a bay
+horse. They—the youth and maiden—not the
+bay horses—were conversing in a low tone as
+they ambled over the heath—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And this is all that has occurred during my
+long absence of three years.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“All, Augustus.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Rosalia, what do you suppose were my
+emotions as I sailed down the bay this morning
+towards Churchill Point?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, I suppose your heart was full of happiness!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No—every mile added more anxiety to the
+weight oppressing my heart as I drew near home,
+reflecting on the many and dreadful changes
+that might have passed over those I loved in
+these long three years, and <em>now</em> I am happy, for,
+thank God,” said he, raising his cap reverently,
+“nothing but agreeable changes have passed
+over Grove Cottage and its inmates. I find you
+the sweetest little turtle-dove that ever folded its
+wings in a nest, domesticated with my mother,
+and forming a large portion of her happiness. I
+find my dear mother at thirty-five looking young
+and fresh as Hebe—and about—I am very much
+inclined to think—<em>tell</em> me, Rosalia, <em>is</em> my
+mother going to be married to Mr. Buncombe?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I think so, Augustus—does that disturb
+you?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, Rosalia, it disturbs me—with <em>joy</em>!
+Dear mother—how devoted she has been to us,
+Rosalia! And now that we are all grown up,
+and do not need her constant care, and now
+that it may naturally be expected that before
+long we will all be getting mar——be getting
+separate establishments of <em>our own</em>—I am glad
+that there is no prospect of mother’s spending
+her life <em>alone</em>. And then to see how long the
+curate has waited for her! Ever since the first
+winter of his boarding with her while we were
+his pupils—now that is what I call genuine
+affection—very few men would have done
+that!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, but, Gusty, he <em>boarded</em> with her all
+the time—he had her society all the time—so
+what odds?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“True—I do suppose that was the secret of
+his patience. And now, Hagar, this singular
+girl, where are we to find her?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“She is out on the moor somewhere, with
+horse and hounds—she has been out all day.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Just as they spoke the sunset rays were intercepted
+by another equestrian figure. The slight,
+elegant figure of a dark complexioned young
+girl clad in a dark green riding habit, cap and
+plume, mounted on a jet black courser, came
+pricking over the heath, followed by a couple
+of beautiful pointers. In her hand she held a
+light fowling-piece, and at her saddle’s pommel
+hung a game bag filled with birds. As her
+falcon eye descried the youth and maiden, she
+bounded forward to meet them—she was at their
+side—and “Hagar!” “Gusty!” were the joyful
+words of recognition that simultaneously broke
+from their lips, as their horses nearly met in a
+shock, and he bent from his saddle, caught her
+to his bosom, and gave her a hearty kiss. It
+was a brother’s greeting to the sister of his babyhood.
+And—“How you have grown, Hagar!”
+“How tall you are, Gusty!” were the next
+words of surprise and pleasure that broke from
+their lips as they backed their horses and gazed
+at each other delightedly—“What a sportsman
+you are, Hagar!” “When did you come,
+Gusty?” were the next cross-question and remark
+spoken in the same breath by both.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_52'>52</span>“I came scarcely an hour ago,” answered
+Augustus.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And you have been to the Hall?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, Rosalia and myself rode over to the
+Hall to see you—hearing that you were out,
+and we being impatient, could not await you
+there, so we rode out in search of you—but
+what a sportsman you are, Hagar! have you
+bagged anything? or only scared the birds and
+shot yourself?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Enough for your supper, Master Gusty—and
+I guess that it will not be unwelcome—I
+rather think, it is some time since you have enjoyed
+the luxury of a canvas-back duck!” said
+the girl, with a dash of pique in her tone. Then
+raising her eagle eye to the sky, she quickly
+touched Gusty, and pointing immediately over
+head, exclaimed, “Quick, Gusty! look! do
+you see that speck—like a speck of ink in the
+dark blue zenith?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why, no! Who could see a speck in the
+zenith of such a dark sky as this—none but
+you, Hagar, whose gaze would make the sun
+bat his eyes!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She raised her fowling-piece, took aim, fired,
+and in another instant a rush and whirr of
+wings swooped down through the air, and a
+white pigeon, the hapless laggard, or perhaps
+the pioneer of some flock, dropped bleeding at
+their feet.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Admirable!” exclaimed Augustus.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The wild girl’s dark eyes flashed under their
+long lashes, and her white teeth gleamed between
+her smiling lips as she noticed his surprise.
+But Rosalia gazed in tearful sorrow at
+the wounded and fluttering bird—and—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Poor, poor thing!” she said, “it was going
+home, thinking of no harm or danger!” and
+her tears fell mingling with and diluting the
+blood that crimsoned the white feathers of its
+bosom.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Ah! it was cruel in Hagar to kill the
+pigeon, wasn’t it?” inquired Gusty, derisively,
+relapsing into boyish rudeness.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No! I do not say it was cruel <em>in</em> Hagar
+because she didn’t stop to think; but it was
+cruel <em>to</em> the bird, poor, dear thing! Can’t you
+do anything for it, Gusty?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Now this was asked so naively through her
+tears, that Gusty, rude hobble-de-hoy, burst
+into a loud laugh, and at its end assumed gravity
+and answered,—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, we can send for a surgeon!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Rosalia alighted cautiously from her horse,
+and kneeling down on the turf gazed mournfully
+at the glazing eyes of the bird—it fluttered violently
+once or twice, and then grew still. She
+burst into tears and sobbed convulsively.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why, Rose!” “Why, what a baby!” exclaimed
+Hagar and Augustus in the same
+breath.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! but, poor thing, what harm had it
+done? It was sailing so blithely through the
+sky, and now it is quite dead—not even gone to
+Heaven, where I wish it could go. I am sorry
+for you, too, Hagar, for I know you feel so bad
+about shooting the poor bird, now that it is
+done.” And suffering herself to be lifted into
+her saddle by Gusty, who had alighted for the
+purpose, she ambled up to the side of Hagar
+and held out her hand—“I know you are sorry,
+Hagar! are you not?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The face of the dark girl was sparkling with
+mirth.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, my little white dove,” she answered,
+“not at all; and as for your bird, though its
+spirit is not probably yet in Heaven, it may be
+on its way there!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What is that you say, Hagar?” queried Gusty.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar reined up her horse, and stooping, lifted
+the dead bird; she asked—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Where is the spirit, the life that animated
+this bird, Gusty?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why, <em>dead</em>, of course.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Pooh! <em>this</em> that I hold in my hand is dead,
+but the life—the life—where is that?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Gone, of course, gone; where else should it
+be?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘Gone’—<em>where</em>?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Where?—why, where?—why, gone—<em>away</em>.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Thank you! perfectly satisfactory,” said
+Hagar, and her wild eyes flashed, and her white
+teeth gleamed with suppressed mirth.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Tell me—tell me, Hagar!” said little
+Rosalia, “do you think, <em>sure enough</em>, that birds
+<em>do</em> go to Heaven? Sometimes <em>I</em> think so, too;
+they are so beautiful and good, you know! But
+then the Holy Bible says,—‘The beasts that
+perish,’ therefore, of course, they must perish.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Your first expressed thought may be not unscriptural,
+little angel—the <em>beasts</em> perish; their
+<em>forms</em> perish; but their <em>life</em>, through other transmigrations,
+may reach Heaven in the <em>human</em>
+form!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why, that is the old doctrine of transmigration
+of souls,” said Gusty.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Not exactly, or rather, it is <em>more</em> than that;
+for instance, I think that life continually <em>ascends</em>,
+never <em>descends</em>. It looks to me very stupid to
+suppose that a soul can <em>relapse</em> into the form of
+a beast. No, life is never <em>lost</em>, but it continually
+<em>changes its locality</em>, always <em>ascending</em>; the
+various forms of life being the steps by which it
+reaches humanity—then Heaven. I have lived
+so much in the wildest solitudes of nature; I
+have seen so much <em>more</em>, so much <em>stronger</em> life-spirit
+<em>below</em>, than on a <em>level</em> with humanity;
+I have felt it struggling up, through water, stones,
+and clay; through lichen, herb, and tree;
+through insects, birds, and beasts; up to its
+highest visible form, humanity; and I have
+grown to <em>dream</em> that life-spirit is elaborated from
+matter; or if not so, that in the union of spirit
+with matter, spirit may be first incarnated in the
+lowest form of matter, and passing through its
+various stages rise to human, to angelic nature.
+I believe there is one life-God, and many lives;
+the souls created in His image—that these souls
+might not each have been created at a <em>word</em>, in a
+<em>moment</em>—but created, or elaborated through <em>long
+ages</em>. I believe that each soul retains its separate
+existence, its separate features, its individual
+self, unmixed as undivided through all its incarnations;
+for instance the spirit of a rose in
+ascending the scale of being will never enter the
+form of an eagle, or a lion. To illustrate nearer
+home—here is my gentle Rosalia, whose pure
+spirit, ages ago, might have slept in the pale light
+of a seed pearl; then, in the lapse of centuries,
+lived in the fragrance of the wood violet; then,
+through many transmigrations, reached the form
+of the dove, then a lamb, and lastly, is incarnated
+in the beautiful child before us.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_53'>53</span>“Then, if that were so, why can I not remember
+when I was a violet, and when I was a
+dove?” pertinently inquired Rosalia.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You cannot even recollect when you were
+an <em>infant</em>, little one—you cannot recollect all
+that happened last year, or last month; how
+should you be able to look back through a vista
+of past lives that the doors of many deaths have
+closed behind you. Perhaps at the close of your
+present life the whole vista may be thrown open,
+and you may be able to look back to the beginning.
+Oh, Rosalia! I remember that in the
+earliest years of conscious human existence, in
+infancy, my mind struggled as much backward
+for recollection, as forward for new knowledge.”
+She was silent awhile, and then pursuing the
+train of thought, she said,—“The analogy between
+material and spiritual nature seems to me
+to be perfect in all its particulars. I never saw
+a human being who had not his type in the minerals,
+in the vegetables, in the insects, in the birds,
+and in the beasts.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What is my type in each?” asked Augustus.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar laughed as she replied,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You, Gusty, are so much modified by education—the
+widow’s petted child—that the stamp
+is nearly effaced, or at least smeared over; however,
+I can fancy you ascending the scale of
+being by these steps: mineral, bloodstone; vegetable,
+mustard; bird, the turkey; animal, the
+mastiff. There is, with all your strength, spirit,
+and courage, so much homeliness, domesticity
+about you, dear Gusty.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And, Sophie, dearest Sophie, tell us all her
+incarnations.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“An agate—the sober-hued stone of which
+rosaries are made—then balm, so fragrant and
+refreshing in sickness, then the brown partridge,
+then the timid fawn, then <em>Sophie</em>.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Good! that’s like her—now yourself,
+Hagar.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“The ruby, pepper, the falcon, the tiger. But
+these are fancies.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>They rode on towards the Hall.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And oh!” said Hagar, “I tell you what
+character I admire—a spirit that has ascended
+through iron ore, oak, the elephant, into the
+form of some square-built, strong-minded, large-hearted,
+great-souled man!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Heaven send you such an one!” exclaimed
+Gusty, dismounting to assist them from their
+saddles at the gate of the Hall. A servant
+approached to take charge of the horses, and
+leaving them in his care, our little party entered
+the house. Sophie received them at the door
+and conducted them into the parlor.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>It was just dusk, yet Mr. Withers, exhausted
+by illness, had retired to bed. It is years since
+we have seen Sophie, and she is somewhat
+changed—yet what her face had lost of infantile
+roundness and freshness, it had gained in intelligence
+and interest. She took her seat smilingly
+at the head of the tea-table and called the
+young people to seat themselves around her.
+When they were seated and served each with a
+cup of tea, she informed them that she had just
+written, at Mr. Withers’s request, to recall
+Raymond to the Hall, from the Theological
+college at the North, the preparatory school
+of which had been for two years under his
+charge.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And is it possible that he has never been at
+the Hall since he left it, the summer of your
+marriage, Mrs. Withers?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Never, Gusty. He remained at college
+until he took his degree, and then passed immediately
+into his present business.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“He was a great friend of Hagar’s the little
+time he remained with you?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes,” said Hagar, “<em>he</em> loved me, <em>he</em> never
+forgot or neglected me; even after he went away,
+in his letters to my aunt he always sent me a
+message until <em>I</em> learned to write, and we have
+corresponded ever since.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And Rosalia has never seen him?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No,” said Hagar. “Rose did not arrive
+until after he had left us, and, as we have just told
+you, he has never been here since.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And Rose will not see him now,” said
+Sophie, “for she leaves in one week for Boston
+for Mrs. Tresham’s school.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And when,” inquired Gusty, “will Raymond
+be here?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Not sooner than two or three weeks.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Then Rose will <em>not</em> see him?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, and I shall be so sorry,” said Rose.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>After further desultory conversation, they
+finished tea and arose from the table. Rosalia
+and Augustus remained all night, and early the
+next morning departed for the Grove Cottage.
+All the next week was occupied by Emily May
+in preparations for Rosalia’s departure, and, if it
+must out, in preparations for her own marriage
+with the Rev. Mr. Buncombe, the curate of the
+parish, the tutor of Hagar, Rosalia, and Gusty,
+and the boarder and suitor for many years of
+Emily May. It was for the purpose of getting
+her dear son’s consent and presence that she had
+waited these last three years, and it was for the
+sake of gratifying her pet child, Rosalia, that she
+now determined that the marriage should take
+place before her departure to the North. Captain
+Wilde, whose ship now lay at Norfolk, had
+also been summoned to attend the wedding, and
+arrived in due season. Of course Mr. Withers
+and Sophie had been solicited, and were
+expected to attend. Upon the evening of the
+marriage day, however, as Rosalia was performing
+for Emily the affectionate service of dressing
+her for the ceremony, a note was handed the
+latter, which on being opened and read was
+found to be an apology from Sophie for nonattendance.
+“Mr. Withers,” she said, “was
+very much worse, and required her constant
+care.” If there was another motive for her
+absence it was not acknowledged to her own
+mind, scarcely recognised by her own heart.</p>
+
+<hr class='c013'>
+
+<p class='c008'>The quiet wedding was over, the routine of
+the quiet cottage scarcely disturbed by its occurrence,
+and the quiet bride and bridegroom had
+returned, the one to his studies, the other to her
+household affairs, as though nothing had happened.
+Captain Wilde had returned to his ship,
+and the pleasant intercourse between the Hall
+and the cottage resumed. The last night before
+the departure of Rosalia was at hand, and at the
+earnest request of Sophie, Mr. and Mrs. Buncombe
+had agreed to bring her over and spend
+it at the Hall. Augustus May was also of the
+party. Rosalia’s trunks had been packed and
+sent over early in the day, and in the afternoon
+the family from Grove Cottage rode over. It
+had been settled that Augustus May should
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_54'>54</span>attend Rosalia to the North. The packet that
+was to convey them to Baltimore lay at anchor
+under the shadow of the promontory.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>It was late in the afternoon when the carryall
+containing Mr. and Mrs. Buncombe, Rosalia,
+and Augustus, drew up before the gate of the
+Hall. Sophie met and conducted the party into
+the dining-room, where a feast had been prepared
+in honor of Rosalia’s departure. Mr.
+Withers, pale and emaciated, and propped up in
+a chair, was also present. It was her last evening
+at the Hall for some time to come, and so
+they sat up late. Mr. Withers, from extreme
+fatigue, retired early, but it was midnight before
+the remaining members of the party were in bed.
+Morning dawned, breakfast was over, adieux
+were wept and kissed, and as the first ray of the
+rising sun gilded the waves of the bay, Augustus
+handed and followed Rosalia into the packet for
+Baltimore.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XVI.<br> <span class='c009'>THE STORY OF FANNY RAYMOND.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“Have you seen but the bright lily grow</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Before rude hands have touched it?</div>
+      <div class='line'>Have you marked but the fall o’ the snow</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Before the soil hath smutched it?”</div>
+      <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>Ben Jonson.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>The disease of Mr. Withers daily advanced—his
+health so rapidly declined that he became
+exceedingly anxious for the arrival of Raymond,
+who was now hourly expected.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, Sophie, my gentle nurse,” said he one
+day, as she sat by his bedside, “your probation
+is drawing to a close. You have devoted yourself
+to me for eight long years, my guardian
+angel—to what purpose?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“To what purpose?—you have done more
+good in this parish than any minister who has
+preceded you for many years; for even Mr.
+May, with all his excellences, lacked that eloquence—that
+power of persuasion—that profound
+knowledge of and potent sway over the
+human heart, that nothing but sorrow can lend
+to intellect. Hearts have been moved and elevated,
+minds aroused and inspired by your wisdom.
+A spirit has been invoked in this dull
+neighborhood that may never be still again. I
+have often thought how infinitely productive is
+<em>one</em> good word, or thought, or act, its influence
+extending down generations, still augmenting
+for ever.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Ah! Sophie, but while all the light was
+shed abroad, the shadow was cast black and
+thick at home; and how it has darkened our
+home and your young life, Sophie!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Some <em>must</em> suffer for others,” said Sophie,
+abstractedly.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And <em>have</em> you suffered so much, Sophie?”
+he inquired, sadly.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No!—oh, no!—I was thinking of <em>your</em> suffering,
+not of my own, and I thought aloud.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>While she spoke, Hagar entered from a ride,
+and brought a letter from Rosalia. When it had
+been read, and Hagar had left the room to
+change her riding habit, he said,—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“How much that girl—I mean Rosalia, writes
+like one I know—her very spirit speaks through
+Rosalia’s pen, as her form is again before me in
+Rosalia’s person.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You mean Fanny?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, I mean Fanny. You have never, until
+this moment, mentioned her name to me since
+the night of Rosalia’s arrival, when I angrily
+forbade your doing so. Often since that I have
+wished that you might, thus affording me the opportunity
+of telling you our sad story. I will
+tell you now, but first, will Hagar be occupied
+for the next hour?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, she has gone to her chamber to answer
+Rosalia’s letter.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Give me a cordial, Sophie?” She did so,
+and revived by the stimulant, Withers commenced
+his story.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I was the only son of my mother, and she a
+widow, Sophie. She supported and schooled
+me by her own exertions until I was eighteen
+years old, when I fell under the notice of the
+Rev. Lenox May, who received me into his
+house to read theology with him. Subsequently
+I entered college, and soon after taking
+orders, I had the misfortune to lose my mother.
+She had lived to see the desire of her
+heart, however—her beloved son in holy orders.
+She had seen the ceremony of his ordination,
+heard him preach his first sermon, heard it universally
+praised as a miracle of eloquence, thoroughly
+believed it herself, and was ready to
+exclaim—‘Now let thy servant depart in peace.’
+Sophie, I never was intended for a minister of
+the Gospel. If I have made a tolerable one it
+is because the hard blows of circumstances have
+hammered me into shape. Accident and my
+mother’s wishes made me one. However, soon
+after my ordination, I was called to the charge
+of a parish in a village on the Hudson, and the
+adulation I there received reconciled me to the
+profession. I was called handsome and eloquent.
+The church certainly flourished under
+my ministry. I was flattered by the circumstance
+<em>then</em>; <em>now</em> I know such is ever the case
+when a young clergyman of tolerable ability is
+installed in a parish. But, Sophie, I was foster-nursed
+by the old ladies of the parish, and
+out of that grew all my sorrows. South of the
+village, on an eminence overlooking the river,
+stood the white granite villa of my wealthiest
+and most important parishioner, General Raymond.
+He was a widower, with one child—the
+child of his old age—Fanny, the sole heiress
+of his property. Religion, or rather, evangelical
+theology, was his passion. How sonorous
+rang his full-toned responses through the
+church, as standing, his stout form erect, his
+broad shoulders thrown back <em>à-la-militaire</em>, his
+chest expanding with self-importance, he called
+himself a ‘miserable sinner.’ On the first Sunday
+of my installation he invited me home to
+dinner with him, and with stately, old-fashioned
+courtesy conducted me to his carriage that stood
+waiting at the church-door, and there, as I
+stepped in, I first saw Fanny Raymond, then a
+child of twelve years of age, a lovely, little,
+shrinking creature, who squeezed herself quite
+into the corner as I took the seat by her side,
+as you have often seen a playful white kitten
+draw herself up between fear and defiance, and
+I instantly felt the same impulse to catch the
+lovely, shy thing to my bosom that you would
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_55'>55</span>have felt to play with the said kitten. So
+strong was this impulse that it must have spoken
+through look and gesture, and might have been
+obeyed but that the pompous old general followed
+me immediately into the carriage, and
+announced, “My daughter, Miss Raymond,”
+with as much ceremony as though the sweet
+child had been a woman of five-and-twenty.
+She sat there, watching me furtively, her sweet
+eyes flashing their soft shy light under the shadowy
+lashes, and quickly averted when met by
+mine, while rose clouds would roll up over her
+snowy cheeks. That sweet, shy spirit, whether
+in the violet, in the fawn, or in the timid girl,
+always attracted me, Sophie. It was your eyes,
+that meeting my glance, would startle and dilate
+in beautiful haze that provoked <em>your</em> fate, Sophie.
+I would have given anything—my parish—the
+world, then and there to have caught the
+shrinking child to my bosom, and hugged, and
+kissed, and romped with her to my heart’s content.
+From that day I was a frequent, and
+always a welcome and an honored guest at the
+villa. Time passed, and I rose in popularity,
+winning golden opinions from all sorts of people,
+and especially from women. As long as a
+young minister remains unmarried, unappropriated,
+unmonopolized, he is sure to be popular;
+so <em>my</em> popularity continued to increase for three
+years. While watching the development of
+the child, Fanny Raymond, I had sought the
+society of no woman. When Fanny was about
+fifteen years of age, I was sent for one day to
+the villa. It was to be put in possession of an
+attested copy of General Raymond’s will, by a
+clause of which I was appointed sole trustee of
+the estate, until Fanny should come of age. It
+was during this visit, and in the presence of one
+of the old ladies of the parish, that General Raymond
+remarked, ‘I am now upwards of eighty
+years old—I am failing fast; I should like to
+see Fanny married before my departure, but,
+alas! that is a comfort for which I dare scarcely
+pray.’ Up to that time I had not thought of
+aspiring to the hand of General Raymond’s
+heiress. It was my lot that evening to drive the
+old lady, my fellow-visitor, back to the village
+in the General’s carriage. It was during our
+ride home that the old lady, one of my foster-mothers,
+suggested to me the plan, the propriety
+of my paying my addresses to Miss Raymond,
+‘For,’ said she, ‘it is the duty of a young pastor
+to consider in his marriage the welfare of his
+parish.’</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I took her advice. I wooed Fanny Raymond—did
+I love her? No; but her extreme youth,
+her beauty and graceful shyness strongly attracted
+me—through that idiosyncrasy that lured
+me to the pursuit of such. I wooed her, but
+she avoided, fled from me. That added zest to
+the chase. I had her father’s interest, and I
+married her. I married her, despite of her reluctance,
+or rather <i><a id='t55'></a>because</i> of her reluctance, and
+despite of tears, prayers, and resistance. (Here
+notwithstanding the chastening of illness and
+sorrow, his eye and lip glowed as with the
+recollection of piquant joy.) I married her.
+The wild shy creature, full of emotion as a
+harp is of music, was in my power—in my
+grasp. Oh! the wild beating of my heart, when
+I had caught and held the fluttering bird! Did
+I love her now? Yes! as the fire loves the
+fuel it consumes. And <em>then</em> she loved <em>me</em>, Sophie!
+or rather <em>no</em>, I will not profane the word
+that expresses <em>your</em> pure affection for me, Sophie.
+But she grew passionately, insanely fond
+of me—she loved me as the drunkard loves the
+bowl he feels is his destruction—as the moth
+loves the flame that must consume it. And then,
+Sophie! <em>then</em>, she lost all attractions for me!
+From indifference I grew almost to loathe her.
+I struggled against this growing disgust, but it
+overmastered me. Poor Fanny! if she had not
+been the simplest child on earth, if she had
+possessed the slightest speck of coquetry, this
+aversion might have been delayed. Poor Fanny!”
+(Here, overcome by his feelings, he covered
+his brow with his hand. How quickly varying
+emotions chased each other through his heart;
+but this belonged to the high action of his disease.)
+“We lived with her father. Fanny
+became a mother at sixteen. General Raymond
+lived to bless his grandson, and then was gathered
+to his fathers. We continued to reside
+at the villa. I utterly neglected her. At the
+slightest display of fondness on her part, I grew
+freezingly cold. This was <em>real</em>, this was a feeling
+it was useless to struggle against, as I had
+found, and as at last she understood. Fanny
+grieved, suffered, and sought solace in her child.
+As years passed, she became calm, grew accustomed
+and reconciled to her lot; and how beautiful
+she grew as her day advanced from its
+morning freshness towards the noonday glory it
+was destined never to reach. How beautiful!
+At least all the parish said so. <em>I</em> could not feel
+her beauty. Years slid serenely, imperceptibly,
+over us. We were prosperous. I had the
+largest property, the most elegant house, and the
+most beautiful wife in the parish. Besides which
+I had a growing celebrity. I was vain-glorious,
+Sophie, <em>not proud</em>. There is this difference between
+pride and vainglory: pride does <em>not</em> depend
+upon the external circumstances of rank,
+wealth, fame; vainglory <em>does</em>. We sometimes
+speak of <em>mortifying</em> pride; <em>pride</em> is <em>never</em> mortified;
+it is impossible—it holds itself grandly
+above all such influences; vanity, self-love, is
+<em>often</em> humbled. I was vain-glorious, not only
+of my wealth, of my celebrity, of my admired
+wife—but most of all, of the <em>intact propriety</em>
+of all things appertaining to me. Years slid
+smoothly over us. I never saw so beautiful a
+woman as Fanny was at thirty. Few of our
+women bloom into the full flower—most of
+them are withered in the bud. Fanny at thirty
+was the perfect rose of beauty. Why, Sophie,
+when I took her to New York city, or into any
+strange company, there was always a half-suppressed
+murmur of irrepressible admiration.
+Though I was no longer <em>proud</em> of her, yet now
+that for long years she had ceased to worry me
+with her unwelcome caresses, there had grown
+up a calm friendship and confidence between us—she
+understood me, and <em>I thought</em> that I understood
+her. I never guessed the latent force
+of passion, augmenting while it slumbered in
+her heart (sleep is the time for growth), or suspected
+the burning lava, burning more fiercely
+for suppression under the snowy exterior of that
+volcanic bosom! As little dreamed I of impending
+ruin as the city under the shadow of
+Vesuvius! About this time the whole country
+rang with the name of one man. A man distinguished
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_56'>56</span>alike for the splendor of his genius,
+the audacious flight of his ambition, the godlike
+beauty of his person, and the satanic power
+of fascination that neither the honor of man nor
+the purity of woman ever withstood. You cannot
+fail to identify the man—but <em>one</em> such is
+born in a cycle of centuries. One day I received
+an invitation to preach an ordination sermon
+upon the next Sabbath, in the city. I had,
+during the years of my ministry, received several
+calls to take charge of large city parishes;
+but always declined them, because our large
+property and our home lay near our village.
+Frequently I was invited to preach in the cities,
+and then wherever I went crowds gathered. I
+always took Fanny with me, for the beauty of
+the woman attracted quite as much attention as
+the genius of the man. Upon receiving this invitation
+to preach the ordination sermon, therefore,
+I procured a substitute to fill my pulpit, and
+taking Fanny, stepped aboard a steamboat on
+Saturday morning, and the afternoon of the
+same day reached the city.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“It had been advertised that I was to preach
+at that church, and at an early hour it was
+crowded, packed. As I entered the church and
+led Fanny up the aisle, I do not know whether I
+was most vain of her or of myself. I know
+that my heart was swelling with vainglory as I
+opened the door of one of the front central pews
+under the pulpit, handed her in, and passed within
+the altar to my place. I saw from my high
+post that Fanny divided attention with me from
+the few who, packed into the end pews, could
+obtain a view of her. In the end pew nearest
+the pulpit, on my right hand, I was surprised and
+flattered to recognise the celebrated B. I had
+never had him for an auditor before. I observed
+that he did not seem to see Fanny, who sat immediately
+in the angle of his vision, notwithstanding
+<em>her</em> eyes were ever furtively raking him.
+I was not surprised at this, for to say nothing of
+his celebrity, he was by far the most distinguished
+looking man present, both for the striking
+beauty of his person and the grace and dignity
+of his attitude and demeanor; but I <em>was</em>
+slightly surprised that he had not seemed to
+have seen the vision of loveliness and light that
+was dazzling all other eyes. These were not
+proper thoughts for a minister of the gospel in
+the pulpit, but they were mine; and they produced
+their bitter fruits, brought about their own
+punishment.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“At the close of the sermon, a few minutes
+after I had left the pulpit, B. came from his pew,
+and a mutual friend introduced him to me. My
+wife was hanging on my arm at the time of this
+introduction. B. spoke of our village, of General
+Raymond as having been a valued friend,
+&#38;c., and of his own intention soon to visit the
+village. I, like every one else he ever set his
+eyes upon, was fascinated by his looks and
+manners. I pressed him to come—and <em>soon</em>—and
+entreated him to come at once to the villa,
+instead of stopping at a hotel, and to make our
+house his home, while he should find it convenient
+or agreeable to honor us with his presence.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, Sophie, I returned home on Monday.
+In the course of the week, B. visited us. He
+remained with us an honored guest for two
+weeks, and in those two weeks, Sophie!——His
+manner rather than his words seemed to reveal
+a warm admiration for me and everything
+about me. Our elegant house, well-chosen library,
+our busts and pictures, our tastefully
+planned grounds, everything seemed to give him
+a quiet and graceful delight. His manner to me
+seemed (for all was <em>seeming</em>) to reveal a charming
+mixture of reverence and affection. I was
+fascinated—drawn in. His manner seemed distant
+to my wife, <em>so</em> distant that I never inclined
+to <em>jealousy</em>, but often to <em>vanity</em>; felt piqued that
+he did not appear to appreciate the merits of <em>her</em>,
+my most brilliant appendage. He visited little
+while he remained at our house; the charms of
+our house seemed to rivet him to the place.
+Parochial duty called me frequently from home;
+he was left to the hospitable care of my wife.
+They were much together.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“The last day of his stay approached. And
+up to that day I was utterly unsuspicious of the
+cloud lowering black and heavy over my house!
+utterly unprepared for the descent of the thunderbolt
+that blasted my hearth! The day of
+his departure dawned. It had been arranged
+between us that I should drive him down to the
+village, in the carriage, to meet the steamboat
+that would pass in the evening. But early in
+the afternoon I was summoned to attend the
+bedside of a dying parishioner, at an opposite
+point of the village. I was constrained, therefore,
+to leave him, promising, however, to meet
+him at the steamboat hotel, before his departure.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I left him with Fanny—Oh! let me recall
+her image, as the last time I saw her in purity
+and peace: She sat in a chair by the open window,
+arrayed in a beautiful robe of light blue
+silk; her air and attitude I noticed <em>then</em> was
+pensive; her elbow rested on the window-sill,
+and her arm, her beautiful arm, encircled by a
+diamond bracelet, emerged from its sleeve of
+silk and lace; her hand supported her drooping
+head, from which her ringlets hung like spiral
+curls of glittering gold. The other gemmed
+and snow-like hand hung listless by her side.
+Strange! I was then inspired with a warmth of
+affection towards her I had not felt for years. I
+stepped back as I was about leaving the room,
+and lifted the snow-flake hand to my lips, and
+then left the room and the house, for the first
+time for years, with the wish that I might be
+able to dispatch my business quickly and return
+soon. This caprice pursued me, strengthening
+every inch of the way, as I journeyed from her,
+until at the solemn bed of death, it was interrupted
+by the sight of my dying parishioner and
+his weeping family. I administered the last consolations
+of religion to the dying man, or at
+least I read the service for the sick by his bedside,
+and gave him the sacrament. I soon after
+took leave, and rode towards the village, where I
+expected to find B., awaiting the steamboat. I
+found him in the parlor of the hotel. As the
+hour of the boat’s passing had not quite arrived,
+I ordered supper, and we supped together. Yes!
+we sat down once more and broke bread together!
+Oh! the power of duplicity in that bad
+man! Had I been the most jealous, as I was
+then the most unsuspicious of human beings, by
+no sign in his countenance or manner could I
+have detected a consciousness in him of the
+blasting ruin he had wrought in my home! His
+conversation was as brilliant, his manner as entertaining
+as ever; and his eyes sought mine
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_57'>57</span>with the same earnest sweetness that had ever
+lived in their expression. At the end of half an
+hour, the boat stopped at the landing, and I took
+leave of him with more regret than I had ever
+felt at parting with mortal man before or since.
+I pressed him to repeat his visit soon, and make
+it longer—and he promised! and bade me bear
+his best wishes and his adieux to Mrs. Withers!
+I mounted my horse and rode towards home,
+my thoughts strangely haunted with Fanny—how
+lovely she seemed in my thoughts! I hastened
+onwards. I drew near the house.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“That ride home! How distinctly, how indelibly
+is every circumstance attending it imprinted
+on my memory! That ride home through
+the dark, cool woods, with the moonlight shimmering
+down through the leaves, with the merry
+chirp of insects in the trees, with the fresh dew
+on the grass; with my heart warmer, lighter,
+gladder, than it had been for years; nothing,
+nothing to warn me of the ruin before me! I
+was, except the stirring of a new and glad
+emotion, as calm as Pompeii under the shadow
+of Vesuvius. I passed through the iron gate in
+front of our house—it swung to with a loud
+clang behind me. To this day the clang of a
+gate sends a pang to my heart. I passed up the
+gravel walk between rows of violets whose
+fragrance filled the air. I recollect it so distinctly.
+To this hour the smell of violets makes
+me ill. I jumped from my horse, and throwing
+the bridle to a servant who came to take it, I
+hastened up the marble stairs, and into the
+house. The lamps were not lighted. ‘She is
+enjoying the moonlight of this cool hour,’ I
+said, and I passed into the parlor. The moon
+was shining through the two large front windows
+shaded with foliage, and shining in two
+bright square patches, variegated with the black
+shadows of the leaves on the carpet; and the
+leaves in the window and their shadows on the
+floor trembled in the rising breeze. At first I
+thought the room was vacant, but looking
+around, I presently discerned the form of Fanny
+on a sofa in the back of the room. She lay
+partly on the floor, partly on the sofa. Her
+dress disordered, her hair dishevelled, her face
+down, her arms thrown over her head in an
+attitude of the uttermost despair—of the last
+abandonment. Surprised, I approached her,
+thinking her sick, or perhaps sleeping. I spoke
+to her—she did not reply. I stooped, raised,
+and kissed her. <em>Then</em> she bounded like a shot
+from under my embrace, and sank cowering in a
+distant part of the room. Wondering, I followed
+her, but she raised, turned away her head,
+grinding her face into the corner, while she
+threw up both arms towards me in a frantic,
+abjuring gesture! I now really fancied that in
+the dubious light, I had mistaken some one <em>else</em>
+for Fanny; that this could not be she, but
+was probably some poor mad stroller. I
+hastened into the hall and called for lights.
+They were brought, set upon the mantel-piece,
+and the servant retired. I turned towards her.
+God! what a thing met my view! Ashy pale,
+with a wild blaze in her blue eyes, haggard and
+shuddering, she cowered in the corner, her hands
+clasping her head, her gaze riveted in phrensied
+despair upon me! I spoke to her, but she
+changed not her attitude. I caressed her, and
+she broke forth in raving madness. God! oh
+God! Sophie, how can I describe to you the
+grief, horror, <em>distraction</em>, with which I gathered
+from her raving, the shameful story of <em>her</em> fall
+and of my dishonor! Though earth and hell
+swam together in my reeling reason, every fact
+of the loathsome story betrayed in her phrensied
+remorse struck distinctly on my ear. How the
+snake had glided nearer to her every day, fascinating
+her imagination by his brilliancy, stealing
+into her bosom by his sweet tenderness, lulling
+her fears and disarming her resistance by his
+gentle mesmerism, winding coil after coil of his
+serpent fold around her, and delaying until the
+last hour—the tender parting hour, the safe hour
+of sorrowful, tearful adieux, and non-resistance—the
+<em>unguarded</em> hour, to strike his venomed fangs
+deep in her heart! How sudden was her fall—how
+quick her recovery! How terrible her remorse!
+And I, Sophie! <em>I!</em>—I said that earth
+and hell swam together in my reason! I felt a
+rushing and roaring in my head and ears like
+the coming of many waters; the earth rocked
+under my feet, and I thought the end of all
+things was at hand. I suppose I fell. ****
+The next link in memory was a slow, feeble
+returning to consciousness—more like a weak
+babe’s first coming into existence than like a
+man’s revival. The first glimmering of sensibility
+found me extended prostrated on my bed,
+unable to lift or turn; aye, even to <em>move</em> a limb.
+The only fluttering life seeming to linger in my
+languid eyes, and in the weak breath hovering
+in my bosom and on my lips like a soul ready
+for flight. A dreary, dreary weight that I could
+then neither understand, nor throw off, lay heavy
+on my soul. A sorrowful, shadowy face, like a
+dream of Fanny, floated past my vision. It was
+the face of Raymond, my son, my constant
+attendant. Too slowly dawned reason and
+memory on the night of my intellect to endanger
+a shock and a relapse. Day by day, and hour
+by hour, I picked up and restrung the broken and
+scattered links in the chain of circumstances;
+and in a few days, before my physical powers
+were recovered sufficiently to allow me to speak
+a consecutive sentence, or utter a word above
+my breath, I understood the height and depth—the
+full extent of my ruin. But <em>she</em>! where
+was <em>she</em>? I saw nothing of her—heard nothing
+of her. For many days I dared not inquire.
+At last one day when Raymond was sitting by
+me with his shame-bowed head leaned upon his
+hands, my anxiety, by intense thought of her, had
+become insupportable.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘Raymond!’ said I.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He looked up sorrowfully.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘Where is your mother, my boy?’</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘Gone!’</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘How!’</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘Fled!’</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘When?’</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘Upon the night of your attack.’</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘Where? with whom?’</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘We do not know.’</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘Has any one pursued her?’</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘No, sir.’</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘Why did not you follow her—seek, save
+her?’</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘My duty was by your bedside, my father?’</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘Raymond! tell me! how far is this dreadful
+tragedy known—how far has her frantic
+remorse, <em>my</em> phrensied despair exposed us?’</p>
+
+<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_58'>58</span>“He was silent, and when I repeated and pressed
+the question he bowed his young face upon his
+hands and wept. The tears trickled between
+his fingers. I understood by his silent grief that
+our shame was not hidden. After a while,
+‘Raymond!’ said I. He raised his tearful face.
+‘You loved your mother?’ He sobbed aloud.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘Go and seek her.’</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘My place is by your side, my father.’</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘Go and seek your mother.’</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘I cannot leave you yet, sir.’</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘Go and seek and save your mother, lodge
+her in a place of safety, and then return to me.’</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘Alas! sir, you need me every moment—do
+not command me to leave you.’</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘Raymond! <em>now</em> I cannot rest until I know
+she is found and safe, or <em>dead</em>, and so it is with
+you, boy. Raymond, do you sleep at night?’</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“He shook his head mournfully—<em>so</em> mournfully.
+Ah! if our betrayer could have seen our
+sorrow, his heart—even <em>his</em> heart, would have
+been melted in repentance for all the wreck he
+had made.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘Raymond,’ said I, ‘she has severed the tie
+that bound her to <em>me</em>, but she is your mother
+still—<em>that</em> tie nor life nor death can sever. <em>I</em>
+may not—<em>must</em> not see her again; <em>you</em> must go
+and seek her, find her, and find a distant, secluded
+asylum for her. <em>You</em> must tend and
+care for her, and make her life as tolerable as,
+with her keen sensibilities, the memory of her
+awful sin will permit it to be. I give her up to
+you. To-morrow morning you must set out on
+your search.’</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“He no longer opposed my wish, perhaps it
+was <em>his</em> wish too, in fact. Utterly exhausted by
+the conversation, I sank into silence.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“The next morning I renewed my charge to
+him, and, with some difficulty, got him off.
+Now you will be surprised that I charged one so
+young, for he was but fourteen, with such a mission,
+but before any other would I have chosen
+that lad. Raymond was ever an earnest, thoughtful,
+and now a sorrow-stricken boy. He left
+me the second day.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Upon my first return to consciousness, when I
+was so weak, I would sometimes recognise a
+neighbor, or a parishioner, by my bedside,
+but, unwilling to meet his or her eye, I would
+close mine, and lie still; and after that I gave
+orders that no one should be admitted to my
+chamber. Many days passed. At last Raymond
+returned, with news of my poor fugitive.
+Wandering towards the south, she had been arrested.
+Her rare beauty, her insanity (for she
+had lost her reason), the mystery that enveloped
+her, excited interest. She had been lodged in
+the —— Asylum for the insane, and there she
+had been left.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Was it strange that I felt no resentment towards
+her? Perhaps had I <em>loved</em> her more this
+would have been otherwise; perhaps all feeling
+of anger was drowned in <em>humiliation</em>. At
+length I got down stairs. It was impossible
+then to refuse myself to my visitors. They were
+my oldest and gravest parishioners. They were
+a long time in breaking the ice of the subject
+congealing around my heart, but when at length
+it <em>was</em> broken, the waters of sympathy flowed
+freely. ‘Cut off this abomination from your
+house!’ ‘Amputate this polluted—this putrid
+limb, though it were your right hand!’ This
+was their advice, and I followed it. The necessary
+steps occupied me some time. The necessity
+of settling my chaotic household and arranging
+my future plan of living kept me busy
+for some weeks. Still even then, between the
+pauses of practical duty, my mind would suddenly
+fall into stagnation, when neither memory
+nor reason could be aroused, when only <em>instinct</em>
+kept me silent or sententious, lest I should expose
+myself; into that terrible state when the
+mind hovers on the shadowy boundary of madness—the
+twilight hour between the day of reason
+and the night of insanity—upon the awful
+line dividing <em>conscious</em> from <em>un</em>conscious madness!
+But madness affects the whole system.
+The blood was sent in rushing force and choking
+volume to my heart, and forth again with
+lightning speed, in lava streams, down my veins,
+impelling me to leaping phrensy! Oh! how I
+dreaded when this chained demon would burst
+the weak fetters of my will! This dread!—this
+dread! I dared not confide it to any one—dared
+not consult a physician. I furtively
+read all the books I could upon the subject, and
+took all the means I could to avert the impending—the
+hourly—the momentarily impending
+horror! Oh, Sophie! on God’s earth there is
+not a grief or terror like this; bearing a fiend
+in your bosom, bound by the feeblest threads of
+consciousness and will—threads that you fear
+and feel may be burst asunder at any moment.
+I walked with reeling brain upon the slippery
+edge of a dizzy precipice!—I walked, as it were,
+upon a mine that threatened every instant to
+explode! Everywhere—at home, abroad, walking,
+riding, in the full glory of noonday, in the
+dark watches of the night, I bore this grenade
+of the bosom! In the pulpit, Sophie—in the
+midst of the most closely reasoned argument,
+suddenly the blood would rush through my
+veins, and into my head, impelling me to leap,
+shouting, over the pulpit-top, and throttle some
+of the people before me. This impending horror—the
+constant <em>dread</em> of it, accelerated the
+hour of its fall upon me. One day, late in the
+evening, I was riding home with Raymond.
+We were, as usual, <em>silent</em>, for oh, Sophie! we
+sat together long hours at home in silence—we
+rode together long miles without exchanging a
+word. The forest-path through which we rode
+was the same one I had passed in going home
+upon the evening of my household wreck. The
+shadows were as dark in the woods, the dew
+was as fresh on the grass, the chirps of the insects
+as blithe in the trees, and the silvery beams of
+the moonlight shimmered as brightly through
+the overhanging leaves. It was the same scene—the
+same! Every instant the excitement was
+rising higher in my bosom, growing irrepressible—uncontrollable;
+until, as we emerged from
+the forest-path, and passed into our yard—as the
+iron gate swung to with a clang—as the perfume
+of violets met me—as the dark front of the
+house loomed up in the moonlight,—everything
+reproducing the scene of that fatal evening,
+insanity broke forth in phrensy, and I became a
+raving maniac!</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I recovered my reason to learn the value of
+poor Fanny’s son. I awoke one day from a
+deep sleep—I awoke refreshed, with cooler
+blood, calmer nerves, and clearer brain, than I
+had known for weeks, and with a full consciousness
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_59'>59</span>of all that had passed up to the hour of
+my loss of self-control. Raymond was sitting
+by me.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘Raymond, what has happened?’ inquired I.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘You have been very ill, my father.’</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘I have been <span class='fss'>MAD</span>!—I know that right well,
+my boy—but tell me, how long did it last?
+what did I do? and who was with me?’ This
+last was the most important question—my heart
+stopped its pulsations until he answered:</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘Your attack spent its <em>fury in half an
+hour</em>, father—you hurt no one but yourself—and—no
+one witnessed your—your <em>illness</em> but
+myself and the waiter who assisted me in getting
+you up to bed.’</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘And what did you then do? what did you
+give me?’</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘Nothing, father; nature did everything,
+and did it well—art nothing. Your fury spent
+itself as a storm spends itself—-by raging—and
+then it subsided, as a storm subsides, into perfect
+calmness; you fell into a deep sleep of exhaustion,
+which lasted all last night and all to-day,
+from which you have but just awaked; and you
+feel better <em>for</em> the attack, do you not, father?
+It has expended the gathering vapors and gloom
+of many weeks, and you feel better?’</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘Yes, yes, quite well, calm and clear-headed;
+but, Raymond, with this interregnum in my
+memory, and this great change in my feelings,
+it seems to me that a long, long time, has intervened
+since my attack; <em>how</em> long has the time
+really been?’</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘Not quite twenty-four hours.’</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘Has any one called to-day?’</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘No one.’</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘Then none know of this except yourself?’</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘No, sir, none know of this except myself
+and the waiter, who does not more than half
+comprehend it, and who, besides, is no gossip.’</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘You understand that I <em>wish</em> no one to
+know of it?’</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘I understand that perfectly, my father;
+and it shall be my care to guard your secret.’</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“It was some time after this that I found how
+much I had hurt Raymond by a furious blow
+on the chest dealt in my phrensy.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“From that time, Sophie, my disease became
+periodical; Raymond was my constant attendant.
+These repeated attacks of lunacy impaired
+my temper; I became gloomy, irascible, misanthropic.
+My attacks of phrensy became less
+frequent and violent, but my gloom deepened as
+a natural consequence; for unless I could have
+been <em>cured</em> it was even <em>better</em> that these regular
+storms should disperse the unwholesome vapors
+of my mind. There is a wonderful analogy between
+the soul and the atmosphere—storms
+clear both—though in storms, both mental and
+atmospheric, there is sometimes much damage
+done. Well! the storms had well nigh ceased,
+but the gloom gathered thicker and thicker in my
+mind, and working up through it was one irrational
+wish—a desire to re-marry; and with
+this returned in all its former force my idiosyncrasy—of
+seeking the reluctant—pursuing the
+flying—catching the resisting—and in the darkening
+of my gloom this deepened into the desire
+of <em>torturing the victim</em>! You shudder, Sophie!
+but this was insanity. Every passion in
+its excess is moral insanity—-every exaggerated
+idiosyncrasy is mental insanity; and in madness,
+brought about by any other external cause,
+the master passion, or the distinguishing idiosyncrasy,
+if not entirely <em>reversed</em>, is exaggerated to
+phrensy. <em>My</em> idiosyncrasy was exaggerated—because
+morbid. I had left my pulpit fearing
+that if I did not my pulpit would eject <em>me</em>. I
+had shut myself up in the villa, and brooded
+over my wish, and the readiest way of accomplishing
+it. At this time I received a letter
+from Mr. May, inquiring the reason of my resignation
+of my pulpit—a notice of which he had
+seen in the ‘Church Organ.’ I replied ‘domestic
+affliction,’—‘the <em>loss</em> of my wife,’—she <em>was</em>
+lost—but need I blazon my dishonor by revealing
+the <em>manner</em> of her loss? <em>He</em> understood,
+simple old man! that she was <em>dead</em>, and there
+he left it. The correspondence ceased. A few
+months from that time I received at the same
+moment the news of his death and a call to fill
+his pulpit. I accepted it, glad to escape from
+my neighborhood. I sent Raymond off to college—shut
+up the villa, leaving it in charge of
+old Jupiter, who lived at a porter’s lodge at the
+gate, and I came down here, full of my purpose
+of finding another wife. You, Sophie, at first
+sight, struck my fancy; as usual with my peculiar
+mood of love, your shrinking from me but
+lured me to the chase—but added zest to the
+idea of catching you; your avowed dislike and
+shuddering antipathy but served to intensify the
+desire to seize and torture you—forgive me, Sophie!
+this was insanity. Though constantly
+threatened with an attack of phrensy, I had not
+one single one after leaving the scene of my sorrows.
+I married you, Sophie, as I had married
+Fanny—in spite of your tears and prayers—in
+defiance of your antipathy and against your will.
+When I had thought it was safe to let him
+know it, when he could no longer interfere, or
+at least when I thought that there was no <em>time</em>
+left for him to reach here in season,—I wrote
+and told Raymond—paying him the compliment
+of the <em>form</em> of an invitation—and telling him in
+the same letter of the escape, flight, and suicide
+of his mother. He did not come in season, as
+you know—though he grazed the edge of ‘the
+nick of time.’</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Now, Sophie, for another revulsion of feeling.
+From the time I first saw you, as I said,
+the idea of marrying you interested and amused
+me—your aversion stimulated my stagnant blood
+agreeably. I <em>lived</em> in the thought of getting you
+into my power—life <em>came</em> and waned with this
+thought. As the day of our marriage approached
+your antipathy thoroughly aroused me—I gloated
+over the idea of tormenting and torturing you.
+But when our marriage day drew <em>very</em> near, you
+fell into apathy! That disappointed me. I
+thought you were going to die on my hands.
+My interest in you waned with your non-resistance.
+The wedding-day, the evening came,
+and I married you. You were then so still in
+your despair—so cold—so dead!—I felt swindled
+out of my enjoyment, and half regretted
+my bargain. I felt as the tyrant must feel when
+his victim on the rack expires before half the
+exquisite torments or the crowning torture is
+tried and suffered. Don’t shudder now, Sophie!
+I <em>was insane</em>!</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, Sophie, I left your side to have a conversation
+with Dr. Otterback. I left you almost
+expiring. When I saw you again, life and light
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_60'>60</span>had returned to you. When you came up to me
+and laid your fair hand on my arm, so softly,
+and spoke to me so kindly, I gazed in wonder
+on your face; and, Sophie, the angel looking
+through your eyes subdued me. Your after
+kindness melted me into penitence. Still there
+were adverse influences at work. A mind shaken
+to its foundation, as mine had been, was not to
+be calmed soon, or stay calm long. The sudden
+sight of Raymond, the image of his mother, in
+her perfect beauty, connecting the present with
+the past so painfully, affected me more than the
+sight of Fanny herself had done. Alas! poor
+Fanny had been scarcely recognisable. I could
+scarcely realize the identity of that haggard wanderer
+of the heath with the resplendent beauty of
+the Villa. But her image lived again in Raymond.
+Never had the extraordinary resemblance
+struck me so forcibly, as when, after a long absence
+from <em>both</em>, I again saw Raymond. The associations
+conjured up, brought on that violent attack
+of phrensy that seized me at the Hall. Well,
+Sophie! my guardian angel, you have known
+all my moods since then. You know how your
+love has subdued my hate—your heaven redeemed
+my hell—your angel converted my demon.
+Enough, Sophie! your probation is almost over.
+My earthly life is drawing near its close. When
+I am gone, Raymond will be as a brother to you.
+Raymond is wealthy. Never since her separation
+from me have I appropriated a dollar of the
+fortune that came with his mother. I could not
+bear to do it. Now, dear Sophie! I am very
+tired; close the shutters, draw the curtains and
+leave the room, that I may sleep while you take
+some relaxation and refreshment.”</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XVII.<br> <span class='c009'>THE STORM.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“The storm comes in fury! loud roars the wild blast—</div>
+      <div class='line'>Like a quivering reed, shakes the towering mast,</div>
+      <div class='line'>But on the bark dashes, proud, dauntless, and free,</div>
+      <div class='line'>She rides like a gull on the crest of the sea.”</div>
+      <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>Charles H. Brainard.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>Hagar had gone to her chamber to write a
+letter. Hagar’s room was on the third floor
+front, at the angle of the old hall. Its front
+and east windows overlooked the bay for many
+miles up and down. Its north windows, the
+bay, the moor, and forest. It was like the wild
+girl to choose this eyrie! She selected it because
+its lofty height commanded the bay,—because
+it was far above the inhabited parts of the
+house, no soul, except herself, occupying or
+ever coming near that floor, or even the one beneath
+it. Then it was very large and airy, and
+furnished or <em>un</em>furnished, to suit the singular
+girl’s fancy. The walls were papered with a
+German landscape paper, representing parts of
+the Black Forest, and the exploits of the Wild
+Huntsman. The floor was painted dark green,
+and the paint had been worn off here and there
+in patches; so that in the dusky light the room
+looked not unlike a wild and darksome forest
+glade, the scene of some weird revel, shown in
+silent pantomime. A tent bedstead, with hangings
+of faded green damask, stood at the furthest
+extremity of the room; the windows were also
+curtained with the same material. Between the
+front windows stood an old-fashioned escritoire,
+full of innumerable drawers, closets, and
+pigeon-holes, which, with one or two heavy old
+chairs, completed the original furniture of the
+room. With Hagar’s varying mood, her dark
+and dreamy, or her free, wild mood, the singular
+girl would close all the shutters, and draw
+all the curtains, converting the room into a
+shadowy scene of woodland romance, from
+which the demon figure of the Wild Huntsman
+would glimmer out in the gleam of some stray
+ray of sunlight flickering through a crevice in
+the closed shutters; or, throwing open the four
+windows to the day, she would let in a flood of
+light and air, and the prospect of half a hemisphere
+of blue sky and salt water. Her room
+now, as she sought it, was light, free, and exposed
+as the highest peak of the promontory;
+and the rising wind rushed through it in a strong,
+fresh current, swelling and flapping the heavy
+curtains like the heavy sails of a ship. She entered
+her room, and before sitting down to write,
+laid off and put away her riding habit in one of
+the dark closets, and went to the windows and
+drew aside, looped up and confined the curtains,
+to keep them from flapping in the wind; <em>reefed</em>
+them, as a sailor would say. Then she gazed
+anxiously out upon the boundless bay, where the
+freshening gale was rolling up the waves against
+the advancing tide, and upon the darkening sky
+where clouds were piled like ink-hued mountains
+from horizon to zenith, and upon the distant
+sail of a wave-tossed packet that gleamed
+like a snow-flake on the black bosom of the water
+an instant, and then, like a snow-flake, would
+melt and disappear in the rise of an intervening
+wave.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“God! if Raymond should be in that bark!”
+she cried, as her falcon glance descried it.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Seizing her small telescope (one of her toys
+when a child, one of her jewels when a woman),
+she levelled it at the distant bark. She gazed
+eagerly. On struggled the frail vessel between
+wind and wave, tacking from side to side, now
+driven forward by the gale, now thrown back by
+the tide. She gazed anxiously. The thunder
+muttered in the distance. The gale quickened,
+and now stronger than the tide, drove on the
+fragile bark before it, reeling and pitching like a
+drunken man. She left the window and the
+room, and hurrying down stairs, hastened from
+the house, fled to the promontory, and stood
+upon the extreme point of the peak gazing out
+upon the waters.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The sky was black as night. The bosom of
+the bay heaved like a strong heart in a strong
+agony. On came the vessel bounding and rebounding
+before the wind, until it was brought
+up suddenly by the strong current of the waves
+that whirled around the point of the promontory;
+and then it heaved and tossed between leaping
+and flashing waters and buffeting winds!
+There on that maelstrom it heaved and set like
+a guilty wish in an ardent soul, driven on by
+the gale of passion and opposed by the tide of
+conscience, and nearly wrecked between them.
+There it heaved and set, vainly struggling to
+round the promontory, and enter the harbor of
+Churchill’s Point. There it rolled and writhed
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_61'>61</span>and groaned; now raised by a towering wave,
+now thrown down a yawning ocean cavern,
+while the lightning glared, and the thunder
+breaking overhead rolled rumbling down the
+abyss of distance! Upon the extreme point of
+the peak, like the spirit of the storm, stood Hagar,
+her hair and raiment flying in the gale
+around her, her eyes fixed upon the writhing
+vessel. Suddenly with a sharp cry, scarce
+touching with her light foot the points of the
+crags that served her for steps, she sped down
+the dizzy precipice; she had recognised Raymond,
+just at the moment when the slight vessel,
+lifted by an uprearing giant wave, was pitched
+upon the rocks at the base of the promontory!
+Shot from the deck into the air by the sudden
+concussion, three or four men dropped into the
+sea at the distance. Hagar’s eyes with a rapid
+glance traversed the bosom of the waters. She
+saw one or two sturdy sailors rise, buffeting the
+waves and struggling to reach the shore. But
+she saw not Raymond, though with pausing
+brain, breathless lungs, and bursting heart, she
+watched the surface of the now subsiding waters.
+At last at some distance up the coast she
+saw him rise, struggle, catch at the air, half leap
+from the water, fall, turn over and disappear
+under the wave, that was colored with his blood!
+She bounded forward and sprang upon her boat.
+Unmooring it and casting the ropes behind her,
+she seized the oar and dashed into the midst of
+the boiling sea. Urging on her boat between
+flashing foam and brine, she passed the eddy
+around the point, and rode rocking forward
+upon the rising and falling waves towards the
+spot she had seen him sink at. Keeping her
+eyes down the current where she supposed he
+would be whirled, she again saw him rise and
+struggle. She pulled swiftly for the spot,
+reached it, while he, lashing the waves with his
+arms, seized the side of the boat, and turned
+himself suddenly and heavily in, his weight
+pitching the light skiff upon one end. Hagar,
+with her skill and presence of mind, threw her
+whole weight upon the oar at the other end, and
+thus righted the boat. With a look of earnest
+gratitude to Hagar, Raymond seized the other
+oar, and they pulled for the shore. The sudden
+storm had spent its fury. It was now passing
+off, like a woman’s fit of anger in a passion of
+tears, in a heavy shower of rain. They pulled
+for the shore, but Raymond pulled painfully.
+They reached the beach where the captain, mate,
+and two men that composed the whole crew of
+the small craft, were waiting under the drenching
+rain.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Are all here, all safe?” asked Raymond, as
+he stepped upon the sand.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“All safe! thank God!” answered the skipper.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But you, Raymond, you are wounded!”
+said Hagar, laying her hand upon a bloodstained
+rent on the shoulder of his jacket.
+Even at her light touch he involuntarily shrank
+slightly as he replied—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Not much, dear Hagar.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But you <em>are</em>,” said she, speaking rapidly,
+“you are pale and weak, you were thrown upon
+a sharp rock, your shoulder was struck and
+wounded; you have lost much blood; it
+crimsoned the wave when you first rose, though
+now it has been staunched by the cold water,
+and the stains are almost effaced—come home!
+oh, come! lean on my arm, Raymond, it is
+strong if it is a little one,—for once let me assist
+you as you have heretofore sustained me.
+Come, Raymond! come, brother! come!” and
+her wild eyes softened into gentleness, and her
+proud eyes into pleading, as, standing on a point
+of rock above him, she held down her hand
+imploringly, to assist in the ascent. He smiled
+gently, and man-like, scorned, while he could do
+without it, to receive from her the help he so
+much needed. Turning to the sailors, he told
+them to seek the Hall, pointing out the shortest
+path of ascent. They were quick in following
+his direction, and had reached the top of the
+heath and carried the news of the wreck, the
+preservation of the crew, and announced the
+arrival of Raymond Withers, while the latter
+was yet toiling, pale and nearly fainting, at the
+side of the cliff. Hagar climbed or waited,
+beside him. At length they reached the top,
+and paused. Raymond was breathless and
+reeling—his wound, started by his toil, was
+bleeding afresh.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“My brother, why will you not let me help
+you?” pleaded Hagar, again offering her hand.
+He shook his head mournfully,—he was too
+faint to talk, and signed for her to lead the way
+to the hall, where he followed, painfully.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>In the closed and curtained chamber Mr.
+Withers slumbered. The noise of the storm
+faintly murmured through that inner room, only
+lulling him into deeper sleep. Sophie, in her
+reveries, had not thought of the possibility of a
+packet exposed to the storm, far less of
+Raymond’s danger; so that before she had
+thought of peril, the shipwrecked sailors stood
+before her, claiming shelter.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar and Raymond slowly approached the
+Hall, and entered it. “Now, dear Raymond, your
+father is sleeping, I think; go and change your
+clothes, and lie down and rest before you present
+yourself to him; your clothes are lost, I suppose;
+but come with me and I will show you into your
+father’s dressing-room; you can furnish yourself
+from his wardrobe.” Then seeing how pale
+he looked and noticing his bleeding wound, she
+hastily said;—“But oh! of what am I thinking?
+Let me call Sophie to dress your wound.” And
+conducting him into a dressing-room, she turned
+to leave him to summon Sophie. He had sunk
+exhausted into a deep chair, and holding out his
+arms, said, very calmly—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Come, Hagar, my little sister, you have
+given me no kiss of welcome since I came.
+Come, Hagar!” She started, turned, made one
+step towards him, paused, the blood rushed to
+her brow, then recovered herself, waved him a
+smiling denial, and left the room. And yet she
+had met the kiss of Gusty May with saucy
+cordiality.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <span class='pageno' id='Page_62'>62</span>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XVIII.<br> <span class='c009'>THE DEATH CHAMBER.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line in17'>“Death is the crown of life:</div>
+      <div class='line'>Were death denied, poor man would live in vain.</div>
+      <div class='line'>Death wounds to cure; we fall: we rise; we reign;</div>
+      <div class='line'>Spring from our fetters; fasten to the skies;</div>
+      <div class='line'>When blooming Eden freshens on our sight</div>
+      <div class='line'>This king of terrors is the prince of peace.”</div>
+      <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>Young.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>Autumn had deadened into winter. The
+brilliant foliage of the autumn woods had been
+hurtled off and whirled away in the winter wind.
+The trees were bare, their branches like black
+ink tracings against a background of white.
+The river was frozen over, the creek was frozen
+over, the bay near the shore was crusted with
+ice. The ground was covered with snow—the
+sky was misty-white with clouds. In very pale
+colors was the winter landscape drawn—in very
+pale colors, like the white, wan face, and the
+blue-grey hair of a very old man. The pale
+cloud-mottled grey sky above; the pale green
+frozen bay and river, and the snowy ground with
+its black ink tracery of bare trees and forests,
+and its dark red square old Hall on the promontory.
+The white snow-clouds thickened in the
+air as the night fell on the 18th of December.
+The wind arose, and a driving snow-storm came
+on. And through the gathering darkness on the
+heath shone one beacon—a light in an upper
+chamber window of the hall. And towards it,
+through the driving storm, toiled one traveller,—a
+fat old gentleman on a fat old horse. It was
+Dr. Otterback on his way to the sick bed of Mr.
+Withers. The bishop had been on a tour of
+confirmation through his diocese, and was at
+that time sojourning over a Sabbath at Churchill’s
+Point. In a quarter of an hour more he was at
+the Hall, he was in the sick room. This was
+the scene. It was a large room, carpeted with
+a thick carpet that gave no sound to the footfall.
+The windows were curtained with dark heavy
+curtains, lined, that let no noise through them
+from without. A dim lamp sat on the hearth,
+and cast up high monstrous shadows to the
+ceiling, that loomed black through the dimmer
+darkness like shadows through the night, and
+swayed to and fro, and up and down, in the flare
+of the lamp. Without was softly heard the
+smothered sough of the wind and snow, like the
+sob of lost spirits wailing to enter. At the
+furthest end of the room from the windows, stood
+a tall, square, canopied bedstead, with the
+heavy curtains looped back to the head-posts.
+Upon it lies a dying man, and around him are
+gathered his family. Draw near, though it is a
+sight of anguish to see the death of a life that
+has been much error, and <em>all</em> bitterness. Draw
+near. His sallow face in its wreath of uncut
+black hair and whiskers, is drawn in strong
+relief against the pile of snow-white pillows that
+support his head. His sallow hands are laid
+out at length upon the dark coverlid. His eyes,
+small and black in the death intensity, now burn
+in the countenance of the bishop, who stands at
+the foot of the bed, repeating at intervals, in
+answer to that anguished gaze, such texts of
+Scripture as promise redemption by faith. On
+his right hand, within the shadow of the curtain,
+sits Sophie, very pale and still, her hands clasped
+with awe. On his left hand stands Raymond,
+leaning his elbow on the head-board and bowing
+his face upon his open hand, while the heave and
+fall of his chest silently betray the son’s sorrow
+for the father. By the side of Raymond, and
+with her fingers clasped in his hand, which he
+presses from time to time as a surge of emotion
+agitates him, stands Hagar; but her crimson
+cheek and glittering eye display more excitement
+than awe, in the death scene she witnesses.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You love him, Hagar!” at last very low
+whispered the dying man. Hagar’s cheek paled,
+while her fingers quivered slightly in the hand
+of Raymond. “Love him—<em>gently</em>, Hagar,”
+then he said, and turned his eyes on Sophie,
+while his sallow hand crept by the fingers towards
+her. She saw and raised the hand, rubbed it,
+pressed it between her own, but it grew colder
+in her clasp.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Good-bye, my guardian angel,” he said very
+softly, and turned his troubled eye again upon
+the bishop. Sophie saw that troubled glance,
+and silently prayed that the perturbed spirit
+might pass in peace. At last at a motion from
+the bishop all sank upon their knees. But Sophie,
+while she knelt, could not withdraw her gaze
+from the eyes that still hopeless sought comfort
+in <em>her</em> eyes. The prayers for the dying were
+commenced, and as they progressed Sophie loved
+to see the anguish of expression soften away
+from his face—his brow grew calm, his eye
+steady, and she felt that at last his soul had
+found peace in believing. It was in a smile his
+eyes faded away from hers—in a smile that his
+spirit passed away, as sometimes after a stormy
+day the sun glances out beneath a bank of clouds,
+and smiling a good night, sinks. When they
+arose from their knees, the clay was vacant.
+The bishop closed the empty eyes, and then by a
+motion marshalled the family all from the room.
+Raymond at once sought his own chamber.
+The bishop followed Sophie into the parlor.
+Hagar went out into the dining-room to assist
+Mrs. Buncombe, who was now at the Hall,
+taking charge of its housekeeping just at this
+crisis. The tea-table was being set in great
+style under her direction—this was in honor of
+the bishop’s presence in the house. Hagar at
+once lent her a cheerful assistance. She began
+powdering some delicate tarts with loaf sugar.
+Thus life and death, luxury and decay, the table
+and the coffin, the most awful event of a lifetime,
+the most trivial occurrences of the moment,
+jostle each other, nor may either be entirely
+crowded off the stage of existence. Mrs. Buncombe
+looked very grave, and at last she said
+half reprovingly to Hagar,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You seem very cheerful, Hagar, while your
+uncle lies in the agonies of death!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I should not be cheerful if he were in the
+agonies of death—he is released, and there was
+no agony. I could not have believed that a
+spirit could have been withdrawn from the body
+with so little pain to either!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And so he is gone!” said Emily, in a tone
+of pity. “So he is gone. Well, ‘after life’s
+fitful fever he sleeps well!’ peace be with him!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, peace be with him. May his cradle be
+soft—may his nurses be tender—may his parents
+be gentle and wise, and may his present life—the
+life just commenced—be happier than his past
+pilgrimage, the life just closed!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_63'>63</span>She had spoken earnestly.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why, what in the name of heaven are you
+talking of, Hagar?” asked Emily, in astonishment.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Of the man just dead, and the babe just
+born!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I believe you are crazy, Hagar!—at least
+any one who did not know you as well as I
+know you, would believe so. What do you
+mean by such language?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She had finished setting the table, and had
+now sat down by the fire. Hagar was standing
+by her, leaning with her back against the side
+of the mantel-piece.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“This is what I mean: there is no death, but
+only change. I do not see death. I cannot find
+death anywhere in the world. I see change, but
+no destruction—no, not even loss of identity.
+See how one principle—any principle in chemistry,
+for instance, will pass through a thousand
+media, assuming a thousand forms, but not losing
+itself, not changing its own individuality.
+Yes, one principle will pass through the mineral,
+vegetable, and animal kingdoms, and pass again
+circulating for ever without losing itself. And
+so with our spirit, as it struggles up through
+hardest, seemingly deadest forms of existence,
+to its human form; and from the lowest human
+nature up to the highest; from the savage to the
+civilized man; and from a common-place civilized
+man, up to a Howard or a Fenelon; and
+from a Howard, perhaps, to an angel, but always
+with more or less speed—<em>up! up!</em>—never falling,
+never losing, never retrograding, relapsing.
+Thus, a soul that has passed through the schooling
+of civilization, never, never in its transmigrations,
+relapses into the body of a savage. I
+stood by and watched the passing away of uncle’s
+spirit, and wondered to see Christians looking
+so sad, as though it were annihilation and
+not a journey; as though they did not see that
+God was wise enough, and good enough, and
+potent enough to take care of the soul He had
+brought thus far in its course. I stood by, thinking
+that around some other bed some other people
+were gathered, awaiting the arrival of a newborn
+infant, and that when the wail of sorrow
+arose in this room for the dead, the voice of rejoicing
+would be heard in that room for the
+newborn! And I watched in eagerness, in
+excitement, but not in sorrow, not in regret.
+Could <em>I</em> regret that his spirit was withdrawn
+from its present racked and ruined home? No,
+I am glad!” she said, with dancing eyes.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And you really believe that, Hagar? I
+mean your theory of transmigration?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Believe—believe,” said she, musing; “no, it
+does not amount to belief, and yet it is <em>more</em>. It
+is not a belief, a creed; it is a feeling, an impression,
+and a very strong conviction. To me,
+spiritual intuitions are more convincing than
+rational deductions. Heart convictions stronger
+than brain convictions.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Alas! Hagar, the neglect of your infancy
+will never, <em>never</em> be made up to you. Poor girl,
+your mind strays off into the wildest vagaries.
+Hagar, you should read your Bible more.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I do read my Bible,” said Hagar, “but no
+<em>commentaries</em> on it; the Bible itself is my commentary
+on nature; it interprets myself and the
+universe to me.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You find nothing like what you fancy in the
+Bible.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I find nothing that contradicts it there.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I must get Mr. Buncombe to talk to you,
+Hagar.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar smiled derisively.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, I <em>will</em>, and I can talk to you myself;
+‘There is an appointed time for man to die, and
+<em>after death the judgment</em>;’ mind, it does not
+say, after death a transmigration.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No,” said Hagar, “it says, ‘after death—<em>the
+judgment</em>’—that very judgment may remand
+the soul back to earth for another probation!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You horrify me, you positively do horrify
+me, Hagar!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You horrify <em>me</em>, when you tell me that for
+the sins, or errors, or <em>mistakes</em> even, of some
+sixteen or sixty years, my soul must wail in perdition,
+through the countless ages of eternity—no,
+no!—no, no! My Father!” said the wild
+girl, kindling into enthusiasm, “Thou never
+did’st create a soul to let it drop into the abyss—<em>lost</em>!
+It may take a long time to teach—a
+long time to redeem that soul—to perfect that
+soul—many times may it be remanded back to
+the clay—many weary pilgrimages may it make
+on earth, but the work will never be abandoned;
+the work will be accomplished. Christ did not
+live, and teach, and suffer, and die in vain—His
+lesson will be learned at last.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“My poor Hagar,” said Emily, fervently,
+“may you yet learn <em>His</em> lesson! He who came
+to light up that darkness of the grave which the
+eye of man could not penetrate—to substitute for
+the thousand wild fancies, such as yours, of
+Heathenism, the holy Truth of God—He, whom
+you so rashly invoke, has said—do you not
+remember it, Hagar?—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘And he shall set the sheep on His right
+hand, but the goats on the left.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘Then shall the King say unto them on the
+right hand, Come, ye blessed of my Father,
+inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the
+foundation of the world.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘Then shall He also say unto them on the
+left hand, Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting
+fire, prepared for the devil and his angels.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘<em>And these shall go away into everlasting
+punishment; but the righteous into life
+eternal!</em>’</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Ah, my poor, dear Hagar, how little these
+wild fancies of yours will bestead you in the
+trials and temptations of life. Oh! what an untrimmed
+vine you are, Hagar! May the pruning
+knife of God’s providence gently, very gently,
+remove all this bad over-growth.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar’s fierce eyes flashed defiance at her
+monitress; but just then a vision of Raymond,
+in his lonely grief—of Raymond, the only heart-stricken
+mourner for the dead, passed before her
+mind’s eye; the fierceness softened in her eyes,
+and she glided from the room. Just at that
+moment tea was brought in, and Mr. Buncombe
+and Dr. Otterback summoned to the table, and
+with Emily, gathered around it.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar glided like a spirit up the long staircase.
+The storm had passed, and the moon
+was shining through the windows. She passed
+into an upper room. A dark figure intercepted
+at the window the rays of the moon. A dark
+figure sitting alone, with head dropped upon the
+arms that, folded, rested on the window-sill.
+Very softly she approached, and stood by him
+in silence. He felt her approach, however, and
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_64'>64</span>turning around, passed his arm around her waist,
+and, drawing her up to his side, murmured—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“My own dear Hagar, you have come to me
+at last; you are here at last; why did you not
+come before?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Because <em>then</em>, Raymond, I was in no condition
+to give you comfort in the mood <em>you</em> then
+were; my mind was excited, enthusiastic. I
+could not feel this passing away as anything but
+a relief—a glory—could not think of it as anything
+to mourn for, but rather to rejoice at.
+Why, Raymond, death has been called a ‘leap
+in the dark,’ but to me it seems a bound in the
+light!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Ah, but Hagar,—the flesh—the flesh—I
+loved my father so much; I loved him for all
+his sorrows, and because he found favor in no
+other heart. I suffered so much at the banishment
+endured for his sake, and now I come
+home only to light him down to the grave.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Raymond, when you left here, some years
+ago, you left your cast off raiment in your chamber,
+and they packed it down in a trunk. When
+you stepped aboard the boat that carried you to
+the packet, I, impatient child! threw myself
+down, and screamed in anguish, at parting from
+my brother, or stretching out my arms beseechingly,
+called you to come back. Now, Raymond,
+according to your creed, I had better
+have gone and cast myself across your trunk—the
+grave of your cast off dress, and howled for
+Raymond, <em>coffined within</em>.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Raymond again answered her, for his was not
+after all that deep, <em>deep</em> grief which plunges its
+victim into silence.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I loved that soul-raiment—I loved that thin
+and wrinkled hand, that lately deprecated harsh
+judgment while it caressed me—I loved that
+tortured face, traversed as it was by its thousand
+seams of thought or suffering, and that slow
+pausing step. I loved it all—but <em>you</em>, Hagar, a
+woman—a girl, a young girl, and yet you have
+so little <em>tenderness</em>—the falcon, not the dove!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar, at once spirited and delicate, did not
+repel this charge, nor did her mind fly back to
+the many nights of sleeplessness she had passed
+in the sick chamber of his father while Raymond
+slumbered soundly in his bed; nor did she know
+that though she had felt very <em>tenderly</em> she had
+acted <em>kindly</em>, while the son who really loved his
+father so tenderly loved <em>himself</em> as well, and
+took his rest.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Have I hurt you, Hagar?” at last he said
+gently.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, I do not know that you have.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Have</em> I hurt you, Hagar?” he said, now
+sadly.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, no; I am not sensitive—not very tender
+of myself any more than of others. No,
+you do not understand me—that I feel <em>life</em> so
+much more than death—so much <em>life</em> everywhere.
+Why, Raymond, my feeling about <em>my
+own death</em> is that of escape, flight, revel in liberty
+and light. I stand upon the banks of our river
+sometimes, and feel like gathering myself up for
+a leap across the flood; yet there I stand, fast
+fettered by flesh. I stand some mornings at
+early dawn at my chamber window, and, gazing
+rapturously at the morning star, my spirit
+uneasily flaps its wings for a flight! Yet there
+I stand fast tied to the body; so wild and strong
+is the spirit, and so heavy and fast its chains.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Yes, she spoke truly—so wild, and strong,
+and fierce was the spirit, whose fire was to be
+quenched in tears of blood dropped slowly from
+the heart.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie now came in, and observing Hagar,
+said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Ah! it is right for you to be here, my love;
+we have a common sorrow, and I feel that <em>I</em>
+should not have gone apart;” and she sat down
+with them.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The funeral of John Huss Withers took place
+on the fifth day from his death. Dr. Otterbuck
+remained to officiate. Mr. Buncombe of course
+succeeded him in the rectorship of the parish of
+the Crucifixion. It was during this visit of the
+bishop that the Parish Church, enlarged and repaired,
+was re-christened and dedicated under the
+name of the Ascension. This was done through
+the suggestion of Mr. Buncombe and the vestry.
+A year passed away.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XIX.<br> <span class='c009'>THE CHASE.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“Listening how the hounds and horn</div>
+      <div class='line'>Cheerily rouse the slumbering morn,</div>
+      <div class='line'>From the side of some hoar hill</div>
+      <div class='line'>Through the high wood echoing shrill.”</div>
+      <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>Milton.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>The forest rang with the cry of the hounds
+and the shout of the huntsmen. And now the
+sounds would die away and now peal out upon
+the air as the chase still kept up the winding
+course of the river towards its head. One foremost
+in the chase drew rein upon the brink of
+an awful chasm, a deep rocky gorge full of
+pointed crags, among which the torrent roared
+and whirled in an agony of haste to escape from
+the torture. It was Hagar, who, with wild
+heart, fierce eye, and crimsoned cheek, drew up
+upon the brink. Behind her thundered the
+steed of one, whom hearing, she looked behind,
+reined back her hunter on his haunches, and
+giving him a cheer and shout, cleared the chasm
+at a bound. It was an awful leap. The hoofs
+of the horse just grazed the edges of the rocks as
+he planted them firmly and struggled up the
+bank.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The other rider, who was no other than our
+friend, Gusty May, paused breathless on the
+rocky ledge and gazed at her. Her steed was
+dancing on the opposite bluff, her form was exultant,
+her eye flashing. Raising her riding cap
+above her head, she waved it in the air, and,
+with a joyous shout of defiance, shot down the
+ravine and disappeared.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Devil fetch that girl!—God bless her!—she’ll
+break my heart or her own neck, or both,
+yet!—I know she will! Now what the deuce
+is to be done? My horse can never take that
+leap—never!—the attempt would be certain
+death to both. But then if I shirk it, she will
+say—I know she will—the little limb of Old
+Scratch!—that I was afraid.” Gusty was in a
+perfect puzzle. “If there were an <em>equal</em> chance
+now of life and death one might venture, but as
+it is—pshaw!” And so muttering, he turned
+his horse’s head, and rode up the course of the
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_65'>65</span>stream to where the chasm was narrow, and
+over which a rude bridge had been constructed.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar was the first in at the death—down in
+the dark ravine. Other hunters approached
+rapidly from other points, and last, upon account
+of his delay at the gorge, up rode Gusty May,
+just in time to see the hunters separate, and to
+attend Hagar to Heath Hall.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Seeing the intense mortification depicted in his
+countenance, she turned her wild eyes on him
+kindly, and said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You must get a better hunter, Gusty; I
+could not have spurred that steed to the leap.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>They rode on up the dark ravine until it emerged
+into the sunlight, then they ambled over the
+heath towards the Hall; many clumps of trees
+diversified the rolling surface of the heath, and
+as they emerged from these, Gusty suddenly laid
+his hand upon Hagar’s bridle and, growing very
+red in the face, dropped it again, sighing like a
+sough of wind in the main-sail. Surprised, Hagar
+looked at him, which look did not recompose
+his nerves at all. He stopped his horse. Hagar
+shot on before. He set spurs to his horse and
+bounded after her. With a sudden freak the wild
+girl gave rein to her horse and fled over the
+heath. Piqued, Gusty drew up and ambled along
+at dignified leisure. After racing to the end of
+her course, Hagar whirled about and came galloping
+back. Gusty awaited her, and then they
+paced on together in silence, until at length
+Gusty spoke out with the air of a youth who had
+made up his mind <em>to</em> speak, let the consequences
+be what they might.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, I <em>will</em> speak, Hagar! You <em>must</em> hear;
+though you cut so many shines, it is very difficult
+to get the chance to say a word. Hem!
+Hagar!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, Master Gusty! I’m all attention.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, then, I like you!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why, so I always flattered myself.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, but I’m not joking—I <em>do</em>—I <em>do indeed</em>.
+I be whipped if I don’t!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Really!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes—and—”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I like you more and more!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“’Pon honor, now?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, I do, Hagar. Oh! don’t look at me,
+you wicked witch! I like you so—so much!
+God Almighty <em>knows</em> I do! better than I like
+my ship!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Come!” said Hagar, seriously, almost sadly,
+“tell me what is there you like about me?
+liking is not to be lightly thrown away, if it be
+well based—come!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, there is a—a—an attraction—a something
+in your face that fascinates—that—that
+<em>draws</em>, that <em>pulls</em>, that <em>nails</em>, that <em>rivets</em>, as it
+were!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The girl turned her sparkling face up to the
+sun, to hide the smile that was breaking through
+it, while she said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Come, say that over again! Let’s hear it
+again, Gusty!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Pshaw! Hagar, be serious—I love you—by
+my soul’s honor I do, Hagar!—truly, deeply,
+fervently! Look at me, Hagar; let me see your
+face. You are silent—you turn it quite away!”
+and he suddenly wheeled around and confronted
+her. “You are laughing, hard, hard girl!
+Kite’s-heart, you are laughing!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>And now she flashed the full light of her eyes
+in his face, as she said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I don’t know how it is that I always laugh
+when other people would cry. I believe I am a
+lineal descendant of the laughing philosopher.
+Now, Gusty, my childhood’s friend, I am laughing
+at your phantasy. You do <em>not</em> love me; it
+is a mere illusion of the imagination. Your heart
+is cheating itself with the semblance of love, in
+default of the substance.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“How do you know that, Hagar?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“By my own heart. Love, <em>love</em> is always
+mutual! and in my heart lives no love for you
+beyond the sisterly affection I must ever feel;
+but that, Gusty, is deeper and stronger than often
+sisters feel for brothers. But when you talk to
+me of other love, you shock and repulse me;
+and that, Gusty, teaches me that <em>you</em> do not
+really love me, but are only self-deceived by
+‘the strong necessity of loving,’ that ‘strong necessity
+of loving’ that leads so many impatient
+hearts to ruin. Listen, Gusty. Marriages are
+made in heaven, but most marriages are seldom
+consummated. God, who doeth all things well,
+places on earth the mutual instincts of attraction
+in such souls as are intended for each other. In
+the whirl and jostle of this world, it is often that
+these souls never meet, but it is oftener that the
+impatience of the heart to <em>love</em> and to <em>be</em> loved,
+leads it into the delusion that it <em>does</em> love and <em>is</em>
+loved. Wait, Gusty; do not add to the confusion
+by marrying when you only fancy you
+love. Wait, and your chance of meeting your
+own will be greater!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But, my heart, my heart!” said Gusty.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, your heart, your heart! <em>Still</em> the wailing
+of the spoiled child if you can, but do not let
+it have the serpent it cries for—illusory love!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You, who know so much about love, whom
+do you love, Hagar?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The color deepened to crimson on the girl’s
+dark cheek, and touching her horse, she rode
+forward. He followed, and again overtaking
+her, said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hagar, you have talked a great deal of nonsense.
+You say that love is always mutual?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And that a one-sided love is an illusion?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“How comes it, then, that this one-sided love,
+this illusion, is sometimes so strong as to drive
+its victim to madness or suicide?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“In the first place, Gusty, all that <em>appears</em> to
+be one-sided love, is <em>not so</em>. Love is often
+returned where it is not acknowledged—often
+proffered where it is not felt; there is so much
+false semblance in the world; and then again,
+Gusty, the fact of the one-sided love <em>being</em> an
+illusion is the great cause of its eventuating in
+insanity. Moral illusions, mental illusions, are
+only other names for insanity.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>They rode on towards the Hall in silence; then
+suddenly out spoke Gusty with energy, and said</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hagar, this is all phantasy of <em>yours</em>, not of
+mine. I love you—I wish to pass my life with
+you—now do not tell me that my case is hopeless.
+Hagar! do not—I will be so patient,
+although mother used to say that I was Gusty
+by name and Gusty by nature. Come, Hagar,
+let me hope, and I will be so—”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She wheeled her horse suddenly around, and,
+confronting him, said, very earnestly,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_66'>66</span>“Gusty, you must never think of me as a wife,
+for I can never love you as a wife.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, Hagar, if you would only try to like
+me a little—”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Try!</em>” exclaimed the wild girl, and her laugh
+rang out upon the air, awaking the echoes, “<em>Try!</em>—there,
+I said you knew nothing about love—<em>Try!</em>”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Then <em>you</em> know something of it, you have
+given your heart to another. Come, Hagar, if
+you want to put me out of my misery by one
+stunning blow, say that! say that!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>But Hagar sprang from his side, and trotted
+quickly into the yard of the Hall, kissing her
+hand to him as she went. He looked after her,
+doubting whether to follow her in or not. Finally,
+he slowly turned aside, and slowly paced
+his horse off to his mother’s cottage.</p>
+
+<hr class='c013'>
+
+<p class='c008'>Grove Cottage was lighted up, and the lights
+glimmered through the intervening trees, as he
+rode up the grape walk, towards the door. Dismounting,
+and giving his horse in charge of a
+boy, he passed through the parlor into his own
+room immediately, scarcely noticing by a bow
+the rector or his mother, who were seated there.
+But the eyes of his mother saw his disturbance.
+She arose and followed him into the room.
+Gusty was sitting down on the foot of his bed,
+holding his temples together between his two
+hands.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What is the matter, Augustus, my dear?
+does your head ache?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty did not reply.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>What</em> is the matter, Gusty?” again she inquired,
+stooping down near him till the ends of
+her ringlets (for she still wore her hair in ringlets)
+brushed his cheek.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“A <i><span lang="fr">coup-de-soleil, belle-mère, un coup-de-soleil</span></i>.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Gracious goodness! my dear, I never heard
+of such a thing at this season of the year! You
+must have your feet bathed, and ice on your
+head,” and she was hurrying off to get the requisites.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Come back, <i><span lang="fr">petite maman</span></i>, the <i><span lang="fr">coup-de-soleil</span></i>
+flashed from Hagar Churchill’s eyes of
+fire, and struck my heart; bring ice for my heart,
+dear mother, or rather <em>no</em>, she administered
+enough of that,” said he, in a lachrymose tone.
+Emily Buncombe had stopped, turned round and
+stood still to hear him. When he ceased, she
+set the candle down on his dressing-table, and
+sitting down by his side, she said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Indeed, I really was afraid of this—so you
+have lost your affections to Hagar?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Couldn’t help it, mother dear.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Gusty! you know I love you.” Gusty
+looked up inquiringly. “I am the best friend
+you have in the world, am I not?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“My dear mother.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And I would not call upon you to make a
+sacrifice for <em>my</em> sake, or for anything except
+duty, and your own happiness?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Mother!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, Gusty, I beg that you will give up all
+idea of Hagar.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Alas! mother, she has told me as much
+herself.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I am very glad of that.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, mother, <em>that</em> was the sun stroke.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You must not think of her any more,
+Gusty.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What is the use of telling me <em>that</em>, mother,
+when she has rejected me?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh!” said the mother, with maternal pique,
+“as to her <em>rejecting</em> you, Gusty, <em>that</em> was a
+girlish air—nine girls out of ten reject their
+lovers at first to try them—<em>you</em> must resign her.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>But Gusty heard nothing but the first part of
+the speech—jumping up, he caught his mother
+around the neck and gave her a boisterous kiss,
+caught her up in his arms, ran around the room
+with her, set her down, exclaiming,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Jupiter Tonnerre! mother, you have given
+me so much life, strength, force—what shall I do
+with it till to-morrow when I can carry it to
+Heath Hall and lay it at Hagar’s feet, say,
+mother! have you got a cord of wood to cut, a
+forest to fell—a—a—Lord! mother, if I could
+get hold of this earth I feel strong enough to
+hurl it through space!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Now he was walking up and down with
+glowing cheeks and dancing eye, swinging his
+arms and bringing his hands together with a clap,
+and turning off impatiently where the walls of
+the short room arrested him, just as you have
+seen a wild beast chafe in his cell. And Emily
+walked up and down uneasily behind him. At
+last he threw himself heavily in a chair. Emily
+came to him.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“So, mother, girls mean ‘yes’ when they say
+‘no,’ you can vouch for that by your own
+experience, hey, mother?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Emily had seen her mistake in having suggested
+this, and it added to her uneasiness.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Gusty,” she said, “whatever Hagar might
+have meant by her ‘no,’ that ‘no’ has fully exonerated
+you, if your rather emphatic attentions
+had raised hopes in her bosom. You must give
+up all attentions to her for many reasons.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And how coolly you say that! Great God!
+how coolly you say that! As if you had spoken
+of the mere bagatelle of giving up my <em>life</em>, of
+the mere trifle of losing my <em>soul</em>. <em>Hagar!</em>
+Stop, mother, let me hold my head tightly—there!
+so! now perhaps it won’t divide through
+the top—now, mother, tell me why must I give
+up Hagar?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“First and least, you are not rich, and Hagar
+is poor. Miss Churchill is the sole heiress of
+Heath Hall and the contiguous estate; that
+sounds very grandly, but just consider that Heath
+Hall is a ruin that daily threatens to topple down
+upon and entomb alive its proprietor, and that
+the Heath itself is now an irreclaimable desert.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Dearest mother, that is not like you—Hagar’s
+poverty! I wish—I wish she was nameless
+as well as penniless, and I wish I was commander-in-chief
+of the American army, so that I
+might have everything to give her, and she
+everything to receive from me.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But it is not so, you see, Gusty; for though
+she may have plenty of need, you have nothing
+to bestow, you also are poor!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Poor! <em>me</em> poor! Mother, where am I poor
+at?” exclaimed Gusty, starting up and stretching
+himself—“<em>me poor!</em> with all this strength to
+struggle, and the world to struggle against!
+Oh! for God’s sake, stand out of my way everybody!
+give me room! swing! sweep! lest I
+hurt some one unintentionally! I feel like
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_67'>67</span>Strong-back in the fairy tale, and I wish some
+one would commission me to take an island up
+out of the Atlantic and carry it across the
+American continent to the Pacific; or, mother,
+would you like an iceberg for a butter-cooler, or
+mother, say the word and I’ll bring you the North
+pole for a churning stick. And then, mother, I have
+so much faith. Hurrah! Hallelujah! haven’t
+I faith! God bless you, mother, I have ‘the
+faith to move mountains,’ for look you, mother,
+when I say to the mountain, ‘Be thou removed
+and be thou cast into the midst of the sea,’ I lay
+right hold of the mountain bodily and hurl it
+into the water myself, to put life into faith, for
+‘faith without work is dead,’ and ‘God helps
+those who help themselves.’”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Emily looked at him gravely and said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“That is from Hagar, that wild perverted
+spirit will ruin you! Oh you irreverend boy,
+what would your sainted father say if he could
+see you and hear you.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Don’t you suppose he <em>does</em> see and hear me,
+mother? <em>I</em> do.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I hope he watches over you. I hope his
+spirit will stand between you and that wild dark
+girl.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“That Hagar of the lightning! That electric
+Hagar whose touch might kindle a statue to
+life! Talk of a galvanic battery! Why,
+mother, everything that passes from her hands
+to mine is galvanized! That magnetic Hagar!
+why, mother, everything of hers is magnetized
+so that it sticks to my fingers, and I am obliged
+to carry it off—her glove, her tiny shoe, the eagle
+feather she wore in her riding cap. I shall be
+taken up for petty larceny yet. Hagar the magnet!
+Hagar the North star, who draws me
+involuntarily, inevitably after her!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“She did not draw you across Devil’s Gorge
+this afternoon,” said Emily, maliciously. Gusty
+wilted down all of a sudden.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Mother, who told you <em>that</em>?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why everybody, it is all over the neighborhood,
+how in <em>our</em> woods the witch didn’t pursue
+Tam O’Shanter, but Tam O’Shanter the witch,
+and how she carried all his courage with her
+when she swept across the gorge. Come, Mr.
+Gusty, you have been talking very grandly, sublimely,
+about strength, and force, and impetuosity,
+and irresistibility, but I have heard very
+loud thunder before now that did very little
+damage!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“So! but you never heard very loud thunder
+that did not do a great deal of <em>good</em>! Ha! I
+have you there, <em>maman</em>! but never mind,
+mother, next time I ride a hunt with Hagar I’ll
+follow her through fire and blood, now mind if
+I don’t. I’ll purchase a hunter, then see!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Then see you’ll break your neck; but I
+have a worse fear for you than that, Gusty, a
+far worse fear for you than that. This Hagar,
+she is the talk of the whole neighborhood; her
+eccentricity, her improprieties, expose her to severe
+animadversions.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Her originality you mean; her independence;
+her free, strong, glorious spirit! Oh!
+Hagar is a chamois! you cannot expect her to
+trot demurely to the music of her own grunting,
+from trough to straw, like any pig! Hagar is
+an eagle! you must not look to find her waddling
+lazily and feeding fatly with barnyard
+ducks and geese.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“A pretty way to speak of your neighbors,
+Mr. May.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, then, let them let Hagar alone! Mother!”
+said Gusty, drawing in his breath <em>hard</em>
+between his teeth, “the anger heats and swells
+in my heart like kindling fire in a bombshell, till
+it tears and splits and flashes, until I feel the
+fire and see the lightning, and some of these
+days it will explode and blow myself and some
+others up! when I hear these domestic animals
+sitting in sage judgment on my wild deer of the
+mountains! these barn-door poultry cackling
+their comments on my falcon sailing towards
+the sun! Pish! pshaw! tush! tut!” exclaimed
+Gusty, jumping up in a heat, and walking the
+floor.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Pretty way to talk of your neighbors again,
+I say, Mr. May!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, then, let them let Hagar <span class='fss'>ALONE</span>!”
+thundered Gusty, bringing his hand down on the
+table like a hammer on the anvil. “Beg your
+pardon, mother, I did not mean that <em>to</em> you, but
+<em>of</em> them; and if that old gander Gardiner Green
+don’t make his goose and gosling stop cackling
+about Hagar, he’ll get his neck twisted for him!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Now Emily laughed—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Poor Gardiner Green, it would be a sin and
+a shame to persecute him for what he has no
+hand in and can’t help. Don’t you know how
+he fears his wife?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Does—does he? very well, I’ll meet fear
+with fear; he shall fear something else worse
+than his wife!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Now, very seriously, Augustus, you will
+afflict me very much, if you commit any folly
+for the sake of Hagar Churchill.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But I love Hagar Churchill—love her! sympathize
+with her.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“She has no pity for herself, why should
+others pity her?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Pity! pity!</em> did I say <em>pity</em>, mother? pity
+Hagar Churchill! <em>pity</em> that proud, free, glad
+spirit!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, <em>pity her</em>! that ‘proud, free, glad
+spirit’ is clothed with woman’s deep affections,
+prisoned in <em>woman’s</em> fragile form, environed by
+woman’s circumstances, and chafes against
+them all—would break through them all!
+will break through them all! and then,
+high as that proud spirit soars, though her
+wings should glance in the atmosphere around
+the sun’s disk, she will be beaten back and down—<em>down!</em>
+Glad as that high heart throbs, it
+will yet beat sobs that throw out tears for
+blood! Wide as that wild spirit wanders, it will
+yet cower, moaning upon the waste hearth of
+home.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Good God, mother, what makes you talk
+so? If I thought that, I would scale the eyrie
+of the eagle, and carry off Hagar to some sweet
+South sea summer isle, where she should reign
+another Queen Eve over another Eden.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Are we to have any supper to-night,
+Emily?” sang out Mr. Buncombe from the parlor.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes! I’m coming—think no more of this
+Hagar.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But, mother,” interrupted Gusty, “<em>why</em> do
+you have such dreadful forebodings for Hagar?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I judge her fate by herself, her future by her
+past and present, and I say that, unless Providence
+interposes to save her as by fire, Hagar’s
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_68'>68</span>fierce, strong spirit will break her own heart and
+destroy her own soul! Come to supper.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Destroy her own soul—come to supper—that’s
+a pretty brace of subjects to tie together,
+is it not now?” said Gusty.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>It must not be supposed that Emily had any
+unfriendly feelings towards Hagar. She did not
+love Hagar less, but Gusty more. And acting
+like a sober, prudent mother, she did not choose
+to permit Gusty to marry a girl who was fully
+as much censured as admired in the neighborhood.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>After supper she talked with him again, talked
+earnestly and for a long time, until Gusty rising,
+said,—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Seriously, mother, you ask too much—too
+much of me; you, with your cool, temperate
+nature, cannot sympathize with my ardent heart.
+Alas! how should you?—you, who at eighteen
+could marry a man of sixty (no disrespect, mother—I
+venerate my sainted father’s memory—I
+talk reason, but not disrespect)—you, I say, who
+could at eighteen wed a man of sixty, and be
+happy with him—you who at twenty-five, in
+your young widowhood, could keep a young
+lover waiting ten years, until your son grew up—you
+with your cheerful, serene temperament,
+how can you conceive my sufferings if severed
+from Hagar? My love for Hagar, if die it
+must, will die hard—dreadful will be its death throes;
+but you, mother, how can your quiet
+heart conceive of this—sympathize with this?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“A still heart is not always a <em>cold</em> heart,
+Gusty, or even a <em>quiet</em> heart. I have tamed my
+heart to the will of Providence—I have learned
+in His school, and thrown down in impatience
+no task that He has set me—rebelled against no
+discipline He has ordained for me; and my
+life has gone smoothly, pleasantly, happily. I
+have gained some calm wisdom; I am thirty-six
+years old, yet my face is as smooth, my eye
+as clear, my hair as black and moist as in girlhood.
+I have minded God for my father, and
+He has very gently led me up the steeps of life.
+Believe me, Gusty, it is our rebellion against
+Him that makes all our troubles. God’s will is
+paramount, absolute, its end is our good, and He
+will keep us in our path if it be by ‘a hedge of
+thorns;’ seek to escape God’s providence and in
+your struggle you break and bruise yourself, and
+lose your strength. If, in the words of Scripture,
+you ‘kick against the pricks,’ you will be
+wounded. It rests with us, Gusty, to go God’s
+way willingly and pleasantly, or to go in it rebelliously
+and painfully, for go God’s way we
+must. The further we stray from it the longer
+and more fearful will be the forced journey back
+to it and the more we wrestle against God’s
+laws and will, the more fatigued and bruised we
+will be, of course without the glory and the anguish
+of coming off victors. Now, Gusty, <em>my</em> faith in
+God was only lip-acknowledged, before a slight
+circumstance made it heartfelt. It was this:—You
+were an infant of six weeks old. You
+had a tumor rising under your ear. It grew
+very large and painful. When I had to dress
+it it put you in an agony, and you would struggle
+violently and look up into my face with an
+imploring, reproachful expression, as though
+you would inquire <em>why I</em> tortured you—<em>I</em> whom
+you depended upon and whom you loved, and
+who loved you—why <em>I</em>, your mother, tortured
+you. That was your expression—I read it
+plainly in your countenance, Gusty, and I wept
+at your silent reproach. Your father was standing
+by me, and he said, ‘Emily, what is it?’ I
+replied, ‘I weep—I weep because this child cannot
+understand that I <em>must</em> do this—that I
+<em>pain</em> him to <em>cure</em> him.’ But while I spoke,
+Gusty, darted down this truth into my heart-strings
+from Heaven. And so God, the pitiful
+father, wounds to heal His children, and would
+make them understand, but that they are querulous
+and still cry ‘why, why suffering? since
+God has power and love?’ Alas! we cannot
+understand, the dulness is ours, or we <em>must</em> not
+understand, for the probation is ours, for some
+reason that will one day be revealed. It may be
+not from the deficiency of God’s power or will
+to reveal, but from a deficiency of our ability
+now to receive the revelation of the secret of
+suffering; and we wait or rebel—struggle against
+or reproach Providence for suffering, even as the
+tortured, writhing, and screaming child silently
+reproached its loving and grieving mother for
+her tender dressing of its tumor. God doeth all
+things well; that truth has calmed my heart,
+made my life serene and happy.”</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XX.<br> <span class='c009'>THE LOVERS.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“A brow of beautiful, yet earnest thought,</div>
+      <div class='line'>A form of manly grace.”</div>
+      <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>Sigourney.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c004'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“That fearful love which trembles in the eyes,</div>
+      <div class='line'>And with a silent earthquake shakes the soul.”</div>
+      <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>Dryden.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>They sat under the shed of the piazza at
+Heath Hall—Raymond and Hagar—in the same
+piazza that had been the stage of so many scenes
+of selfishness, tyranny, and violence—of weak
+resistance, or of weaker compliance—across the
+floor of which the long shadow of Withers had
+been thrown as he passed in his ghostly wooing
+of Sophie; before the steps of which the pale
+wanderer had paused to warn in her flight
+towards death—through which the corpse of the
+sinner, sufferer, and suicide, had been borne to
+the inquest—in which the declaration of love
+and despairing parting had occurred between
+Sophie Churchill and Augustus Wilde—through
+which Raymond had flown to pick up Hagar,
+when in maniac violence Mr. Withers had hurled
+her through the open window—lastly, through
+which the corpse of the poor lunatic had been
+carried, the shadow seeming to pass from the
+house at the same time. All was very quiet
+now. It was Spring, and the moon was shining
+down through the trellis work and vines, and the
+moonlight, agitated by the shadows of the leaves
+that quivered in the breeze, trembled on the floor.
+They sat together on the bench at one of the
+extremities of the piazza. Hagar sat erect—leaned
+back against the balustrade; her fingers
+were slightly clasped, and her fierce eyes burning
+into the opposite vines. Yet the wild girl
+was very gentle now; the brave girl timid; her
+venture was—not life and limb—that Hagar
+would at any time risk, with a kindling, not a
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_69'>69</span>smouldering cheek; her venture was—her affections!—that
+heart, once so keenly sensitive—that
+heart which in infancy had been stung and
+embittered until it had at last grown stiff as
+any other muscle under the action of any other
+bitter tonic poison! that among the forest rocks
+and streams had grown so healthy! so joyous!
+It was such a free, brave, leaping heart, that its
+prison-chest would scarce contain it!—it would
+leap, though, and soar to the clouds!—it did send
+its owner on horseback bounding over awful
+chasms, leaping five-barred gates, thundering
+down frightful descents, and sing with gladness
+when the feat was done! But now this jubilant
+heart was slowly trembling like a balloon in its
+descent to earth, or a wounded bird that slowly
+flapping its wings falls, and falls. Its wild liberty
+was going—gone. Yes, her liberty of thought
+and action was gone; no one ventured to advise,
+to reprove, to oppose the young mistress of Heath
+Hall; yet she felt reproof, opposition, powerfully.
+There were no substantial fetters of steel
+or iron on her slender wrists and ankles, yet the
+fetters encircled her free limbs notwithstanding!
+Listen, dear reader, while I tell you how Hagar—queen
+of woods and waves—Hagar, <em>là lionnesse
+de chase</em>, discovered that though no one
+rebuked her by word, gesture, or glance, she
+was no longer her own mistress; that she had
+to contend for her freedom, not “with flesh and
+blood,” but with powers and principalities of—something
+or other! There had been a high
+day at the Heath; under the auspices of Master
+Gusty May the hounds had met early. There
+had been a great chase, quite a steeple chase; a
+neck-or-nothing affair; and all day long, over
+hill and dale, rock and brake, the hunting had
+thundered, and still Hagar, the slight agile girl,
+on her flying black steed, had kept the advance;
+and still, with wild mirth and fearless defiance,
+she had cheered them forward! down the most
+precipitous steeps, through the most violent torrents,
+over the most frightful chasms, until the
+brush was taken. The hunters dispersed, and
+many of them rode over to Heath Hall, in company
+with Gusty May and Hagar. And there
+when all lips were carelessly, mirthfully speaking
+of her feats of horsemanship that day, and the dark
+girl’s cheek kindled more with the proud consciousness
+of power than with pleasure at their admiration,
+she sought Raymond’s face. Raymond
+never joined these hunts, his tastes did not lie
+that way. She sought Raymond’s countenance
+at the very moment that some one spoke of her
+leap across “Devil’s Gorge.” She sought Raymond’s
+countenance half in doubt. He heard—she
+felt he did, although his eyes were fixed upon
+the book before him. He disapproved—she felt,
+with a strange pain, a strange sense of loss that
+he did, although no glance, gesture, or frown
+betrayed rebuke. And somehow, all Hagar’s
+gladness escaped in a long drawn sigh! She
+felt not quite so much of a young lioness as she
+had a moment since; and the presence of the
+company annoyed her, and she wished from her
+soul that they would eat their suppers and go
+along home; she wished to hear Raymond
+speak to her alone, that she might know how
+much she had lost, and perchance recover it.
+Well, at last they did go, and Hagar, after, in
+the Maryland manner, seeing the last guest to
+the door herself, came back in her riding habit,
+which she had not yet had time to change—she
+came back, that slight, dark girl, looking so
+elegant in her graceful black habit, her shining
+blue-black ringlets glittering down her crimson
+cheek; her gleaming eyes and teeth were veiled
+and covered, one by the purple lips, the other by
+the long black fringes; how gentle she seemed
+now, gentle as the half-dozing leopardess, with
+her tusks and claws covered with the softest fur.
+And she <em>was</em> gentle just now, she glided softly
+near Raymond and stood by him, so humbly!
+He did not see her attitude or expression as she
+stood a little behind and on one side of him, but
+he felt her there, turned softly, and passing his
+hand gently around her shoulders drew her down
+to his side. They were on the sofa between the
+two windows, and the light of the candles on
+the mantel-piece fell upon the picture—he drew
+her small and elegant head down upon his bosom
+with the radiant face turned towards him, and he
+gazed down on it as though his soul would
+escape through breath and glance, and die upon
+it. She could not meet those tender deep blue
+eyes, fixed so earnestly on her face; her black
+eye-lashes fell upon her crimson cheeks, and her
+brow burned; he stooped till his golden curls
+mingled with her black ringlets, and pressed his
+lips to hers. Quickly she whirled her head from
+under his arm, but continued to sit by him; he
+was silent, thoughtful, while he held her hand
+and pressed it from time to time.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Raymond!” at last she said. “Love!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What is the matter?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why, dearest Raymond, you are grave,
+unusually grave—will you tell me the reason?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“If my Hagar, in her deepest heart, is conscious
+of having given me cause for pain, is not
+that enough?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The girl turned her glowing cheek and heaving
+bosom away from him; her heart was struggling
+violently with its chains, she did not speak
+for some time. At last he said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Have I offended you; have I wounded you,
+Hagar?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No—no—<em>neither</em>—you are too gentle and
+generous to do either, but I have hurt myself in
+your estimation.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He drew her to his bosom in the gentlest embrace,
+and bowed his soft cheek upon her face
+so slowly, tenderly; but she broke from his
+loving hold with a strangled sob and escaped to
+her eyrie. Yes, it was too true, her liberty was
+gone. The caress of love had riveted the chain
+of bondage about the maiden’s will—the kiss of
+love had left the mark of ownership upon the
+maiden’s cheek. Yes, the wild falcon was
+caught in the jesses. True, hers was the most
+gentle captor in the world, it was the gentleness
+that disarmed her, the tenderness that subdued
+her; still she <em>was</em> caught, disarmed, subdued,
+and she did not like it—she could have reproached
+her own heart as though it had been a
+traitor, sitting up before her. Why, she softly
+inquired of herself, why should Raymond’s good
+or ill opinion bring <em>her</em> joy or pain who utterly
+defied all other opinion? She could not tell,
+she could neither break her fetters nor understand
+how they came to be riveted so fast—verily, she
+was like the young wild horse of the prairie
+struggling with the lasso around her neck, unknowing
+how it came there, unable to shake it
+off. This feature in love was new to her; this
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_70'>70</span>subjugation of the will, this thorn in the rose,
+and it rankled not a little. She would do as
+she pleased, she said to herself. Sophie had
+never controlled her; Emily had never controlled
+her; and her horse’s hoofs had naturally
+and very unconsciously spurned dust and defiance
+in the faces of those who had pursued her
+with blame. Now comes this power stealing
+into her bosom, and gently, so gently, yet so
+tightly, winding round and round her free heart,
+so that in its wild throbs it bruised itself against
+the pressure. Yes, she <em>would</em> do as she pleased;
+she would ride another hunt if only to convince
+herself that she might do so. And she did so;
+yet when flying over the moor or heath, when
+thundering down some declivity, or spurring her
+horse to some fearful leap, a hand of air would
+seem to fall upon her wrist arresting it, a voice
+of air fall on her ears forbidding her, and impatiently,
+like a young courser throwing up his
+head and champing the bit, she would shake off
+the hand and voice of air, and take the leap;
+but then—a pain would drop and sink heavily,
+more heavily, upon her spirits, weighing them
+utterly down—no more glad triumph! no more
+waving of the cap, or <em>if</em> the cap was waved it
+was in defiance of the heart sinking like a
+plumb-weight through the bosom. “I <em>will</em> do
+as I please,” many times she would say to herself.
+“Well, who hinders you?” “herself,”
+would say to her; “not Raymond, certainly, he
+never attempts such a thing, he only <em>suffers</em>
+when he sees you thus.” So Hagar struggled
+against the power that was subduing her. It
+was when this struggle was nearly over that
+Hagar and Raymond sat in the piazza under the
+moonbeams, shining through the trellis work.
+Hagar, as I said, with her slight form erect, and
+her glittering eyes fixed upon the opposite end
+of the trellis. Raymond holding her small hand
+that quivered in his palm like the heart of a captured
+bird—Raymond with his graceful head
+bowed to catch her words.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Not yet, dearest Raymond, not <em>just yet</em>.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But, Hagar, love, <em>why</em>, what <em>now</em> hinders
+our marriage? Just see, dearest, how you have
+put me off! bethink you, from the time of my
+arrival at the Heath before my father’s death, I
+began to love you, would have married you, my
+father wished particularly to unite us and bless
+our union before he died, but you, Hagar, came
+daily with your ‘not yet’ weekly, monthly;
+with your ‘not yet’ until the old man died without
+seeing the desire of his eyes. Was that
+kind, wild Hagar? Well! and since his death,
+you have said ‘not yet, do not let us join our
+hands over a scarcely closed grave,’ and I
+agreed with you. I took leave of you and
+returned to the charge of my preparatory school.
+A year passed, and procuring a substitute to
+take care of my school, I came again—again
+renewed my entreaty, and again Hagar with
+paling cheek insisted ‘not yet,’ and again I left
+the Hall alone. Believing, although you would
+not confess it, that your reluctance arose from an
+unwillingness to leave your native place, without
+consulting you I abandoned my business and
+came down here; here I have lingered weeks,
+and still Hagar pales and flushes and tells me
+‘not yet.’ Now what am I to think of this, Hagar?
+<em>why</em> not yet, do you not love me, will not
+my love make you happy?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Most tenderly he raised that little dark and
+fluttering hand to his lips, most gently he spoke
+as he said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Now, my Hagar, tell me why do you insist
+upon this delay?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Not insist, oh! not insist, Raymond—<em>plead</em>—I
+plead this delay—your love make me happy?
+oh! yes, <em>so</em> happy I am afraid to stir for fear of
+disturbing it. I feel like a dreamer who has
+fallen asleep in foreign lands, and dreams that he
+is standing in his own garden—afraid to stir lest
+I wake up—not yet, dear Raymond—do not let
+us wake yet, do not break this dream, dispel this
+illusion, spoil this love yet!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘Spoil this love,’ why what do you mean
+by that, Hagar?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I mean that we are so happy as we are,
+Raymond—now that I have partly tamed my
+wild heart to your gentle hand—now that I no
+longer grieve or wound you, or ride steeplechases,
+or shock the neighborhood into electric
+life by some galvanic feat of desperation; now
+that I am winning ‘golden opinions from all
+sorts of people,’ and no longer mortifying you—why
+we are so happy, this is such a fairy-land,
+dream-like happiness. Think, we are under the
+same roof, sit daily at the same table, ride to
+church together every Sunday, visit together, read
+together, ramble together, my twin-brother,” said
+she, suddenly yielding herself to his embrace with
+affectionate abandonment. “So we are <em>so</em>
+happy! alas! don’t spoil it, don’t let us become
+a humdrum Mr. and Mrs. Withers yet—a
+tobacco-planting, corn-growing, butter-churning
+Mr. and Mrs. Withers! don’t! the very idea
+‘withers’ my heart,” and the wild girl, wild
+still! laughed like the explosion of a squib.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Raymond folded his long fair hands together
+and fell into thought; at last he said:</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hagar, I have always heard, read, and
+dreamed much about the <em>confiding</em> love of
+woman, but I see little of it in you; how is this,
+Hagar?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Have I want of confidence—is it that?
+Perhaps it is,” said the girl seriously. “I who
+neither fear to risk life, limb, nor good opinion;
+I fear, oh! how I <em>do</em> fear to lose the affection
+of one who loves me; I fear to be too much
+with them, to ask anything of them; I feel as
+though I would always rather serve them than
+receive service from them. Raymond, young as
+I am, I have already suffered so much from
+wounded sensibilities; I know you would not
+readily believe this, but oh! listen—the first
+thing I loved in this wide world was Sophie; the
+first thing I remember was sleeping on her bosom
+every night with her sweet breath on my cheek;
+I do suppose she spoiled me, I was always with
+her, she was devoted to me, absorbed in me,
+until a new enthusiasm seized her, and she—oh!
+but, Raymond, forgive me, I suppose it was all
+right, only I did not comprehend it, and when I
+was suddenly severed from Sophie, I wept all
+night, screamed all day, and then when she
+continued to neglect me, and when after the
+arrival of Rosalia, all the child spoilers in the
+house and in the neighborhood left me altogether,
+and clustered around Rosalia like bees around a
+clover blossom; well, Raymond! perhaps it was
+my nature after all, I took to the forest for my
+home, and to animals for my companions; I
+consoled myself at first for the want of affection,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_71'>71</span>and, afterwards, I grew really independent
+of it! my heart was so high and strong, I did
+not care for love—not I! I loved others in a
+half contemptuous right royal way, but I asked
+no sort of return; indeed, I think, it would have
+annoyed me; but now, Raymond! now I love
+you, and I have your love, and I tremble—I
+tremble lest I lose <em>that</em> also; no heart has been
+steady to me, no human heart I mean, up to this
+time (it remains to be seen whether yours will
+be, Raymond)—no human heart, I said—my
+pointers, Remus and Romulus, have been, and
+dog-like always will be. Do you know, Raymond,
+by the way, why I called my two
+favorites Remus and Romulus?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I guess you thought, bitter girl, that the
+fate of the poor twins cast out to the wolf to
+be nursed was not unlike that of little Hagar
+rocked upon the tree tops.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, that was it.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“My dear Hagar, you must forget these
+things; it were unmerciful to remember them
+against my unhappy father, most cruel to remember
+them against dearest Sophie, whose mild life
+has been one offering for others.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I do not remember them ever. I only
+recall them when forced to the recollection, and
+when I have to account to myself, or to you, for
+some strange trait foreign to a young girl’s
+character, and then I recall them without bitterness
+as facts, not as injuries.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Then, Hagar, love,” said he, “I am now
+perfectly serious in what I am about to say, I
+must either marry you very soon or tear myself
+away from you. Hagar, through the influence
+of one of my father’s old friends, I have been
+offered the situation of <em>attaché</em> to the new
+embassy to the Court of Madrid; they sail in
+three weeks from Brooklyn. Come, Hagar,
+shall I go?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar was silent.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Listen, Hagar,—if I go it is probable I shall
+remain three or four years—shall I go?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar’s eyes burned holes in the floor.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hagar, I am very weary of entreaty, hear
+me! I must either marry you or tear myself
+away from you! one or the other! and soon!
+Come! which shall I do, Hagar?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“We are very happy as we are; remain with
+us, this is your home, stay, you shall have as
+much of my company as you wish, the more
+the better; I will give up all my out-door
+amusements when you cannot accompany me, I
+will do anything in the world to gratify you—except
+get married—oh, not yet.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He jumped up—it was strange to see the
+gentle and graceful Raymond exhibit so much
+emotion.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘Not yet.’ Oh! for heaven’s sake do not
+ring the changes on those two odious syllables
+any longer, Hagar; I am getting restive under
+it.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Then he dropped down into his seat again
+with a sigh, saying,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Bear with me; Hagar, it is not often that I
+lose patience, but indeed, my wild love, you are
+a trial! now hear me, Hagar. I shall write
+and accept that situation, I shall make preparations
+for my journey, and in two weeks from this
+night I shall leave Heath Hall to join the embassy
+that will sail in one week from that time.
+I shall, unless dearest Hagar in that time places
+her little hand in mine and trusts me with the
+care of her future happiness—well, Hagar?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, Raymond?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What have you to say to that?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Nothing.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Nothing?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Nothing.</em>”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Ungentle! Unwomanly!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Perhaps <em>too</em> ungentle, <em>too</em> unwomanly to
+be able to make you happy, Raymond!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hagar!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Mad girl! why do you act in this way?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What way? I beg you to remain with us;
+I promise you to do everything to make you
+happy, except marry you; and you should rest
+content, especially as I wish to marry no one
+else.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But why? why?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Because I am afraid!—afraid!” said the
+girl.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>And then she arose, and wishing him good
+night, hurried into the room. As she passed in,
+a pale figure intercepted her further progress—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Gusty!” she exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, ‘Gusty!’”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I did not know that you were here.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I have been here for half an hour. I passed
+right through the piazza, but you and Raymond
+were too deeply engaged in conversation to hear
+me. Perceiving your absorption, I would not
+interrupt you; I came in here, and borne down
+with fatigue, and stunned with despair (for,
+Hagar, the first words of your conversation betrayed
+the state of affairs between you and Raymond)
+I threw myself upon the sofa and there I
+lay until I heard you arise and enter the house—don’t
+be disturbed, Hagar, I only heard the few
+words as I passed through the piazza. I would
+not, you may be assured, have heard one word
+that I could have avoided hearing, and the words
+I heard were providential—they have been good
+for me, they have stunned, benumbed my senses
+into a sort of peace. Well, Hagar, when is it
+to come off?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What, Gusty?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You know—your marriage with Raymond!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>But Hagar, wafting him a good night, fled up
+the stairs to bed. And Gusty, to avoid Raymond,
+whom he had not the power just now to
+meet in a friendly manner, Gusty having ascertained
+that Sophie was not visible, slunk out
+through the back way and disappeared.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Days passed at Heath Hall, and Gusty was
+not seen. Raymond had written his letter of
+acceptance, had gone to Hagar’s eyrie in the
+fourth story, and leaning over the back of her
+chair, had read it to her. She had heard it with
+little visible emotion.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Now, Hagar, I am about to seal it.
+Tarquinius is mounted in the yard ready to take
+it to the post-office;—tell me, Hagar, shall I
+send it, or not?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Just as you please.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Then I please <em>not</em> to send it on condition
+that you give me your hand.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I cannot—yet I implore you to stay—do not
+leave us—I—I shall be very unhappy when you
+are gone.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Marriage or flight, Hagar; those are my
+alternatives.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She said no more. He lingered.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_72'>72</span>“Shall I send the letter, Hagar?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“As you please.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He took a wafer from her writing-desk, and
+sealing the letter, directed it; then going to the
+window, he beckoned Tarquinius. The boy
+dismounted, and coming into the house ascended
+the long flight of stairs, and in time entered the
+room. Raymond looked at Hagar as he slowly
+gave the letter into the hands of the boy. Hagar
+did not offer to interfere. Tarquinius left the
+room, and five minutes after she saw him ride
+out of the yard, letter in hand. Their eyes met
+then; there was sadness in the expression of
+both—the sadness of reproach upon Raymond’s
+face, the sadness of deprecation on Hagar’s.
+Indeed either of them could have wept, but that
+Raymond for his manhood, and Hagar for that
+early in her brave childhood she had made a sort
+of silent pledge of total abstinence from tears,
+refrained. He left the room very soon.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie entered it. She paced it in her soft,
+slow manner, and sinking down in one of the old
+leathern chairs by the window at which Hagar
+stood looking out upon the bay, she said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hagar, my love, I have come to have a talk
+with you: my dear child, what is the matter
+between you and Raymond? why have you
+grieved and repulsed him again? and, if I am
+not very much mistaken, permitted him to make
+arrangements for that foreign mission?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Did he tell you that, Aunt Sophie?” said
+Hagar, turning around.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Of course not, my love; I met him coming
+down, I saw his face overshadowed, and I had
+seen just before that, the superscription of the
+letter in the hand of Tarquinius; now, what is it
+all about? Trust me, Raymond looks distressed
+to death.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar ran her slender, dark fingers, through her
+glittering blue-black ringlets, and looked down
+in perplexity into the soft brown eyes of Sophie,
+raised to hers with their old look of pleading
+love. Then turning her eyes quickly away, she
+looked from the window; she did not wish to
+speak upon the subject.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You want a loving trust, Hagar,” said Sophie,
+sadly.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Perhaps I do,” as sadly replied the girl.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I never saw one so young as you with so
+little confidence, so little trust as you have—your
+distrust is more like a hardened man or
+woman of the world than a simple girl, a maiden
+not yet eighteen.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But I am <em>not</em> a simple girl—love, hope,
+trust, faith, were crushed out of me while I was
+yet an infant, and you know it; or perhaps you
+do not know it, Sophie; though you had some
+hand in the work.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hagar, love! you afflict me—tell me what
+you mean by that?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Nothing! nothing!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Nay, tell me, Hagar! I must know the
+meaning of your sad words.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Nothing! nothing! I will explain nothing!
+account for nothing! investigate, analyse
+nothing! I will accuse no one! I did not mean
+to hint at a wrong! I was betrayed into it!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“This is growing very serious by your energy
+of manner, Hagar—have I injured you in any
+way?—my own dear child, do not turn away,
+but answer me.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, no; never lifted your finger, or raised
+your voice, to hurt me the least. Oh! nonsense,
+my dearest aunt! I am a scamp to make you
+sad—nothing! only <em>this</em>, that <em>my</em> experience
+has so schooled me, young as you think I am,
+that I am afraid to launch my happiness in the
+uncertain seas of other hearts.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You want faith, Hagar. Ah! Hagar, I
+partly guess now what you mean; but if you
+had known how much I loved you, all the time
+you thought I was neglecting you! Have faith,
+Hagar. Good Heavens!” said she, speaking
+with unaccustomed energy, “have faith! the
+world could not go on without faith. There is
+a great deal of faith in the world—social faith,
+and commercial faith; political faith, and domestic
+faith, and Christian faith, which embraces
+all the others; but there is not faith enough anywhere—and
+you, Hagar, are deplorably deficient;
+cultivate that small speck of faith that is
+in your heart until it grows strong and gives you
+happiness. You <em>cannot</em> live without faith—with
+it you have all things, without it you have
+nothing. Have faith first in God, in His wisdom,
+goodness, power, and love, in His all-surrounding
+con”—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, I do! you know I do, Sophie, and all
+the sin and suffering I see on earth does not in
+the least shake my faith in God—but—”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But you have little or no faith in your fellow creatures;
+cultivate that little then, Hagar.
+Oh! trust, and its opposite, mistrust, how powerful
+they are; the one for evil, the other for
+good. Trust! why, Hagar, it is the moral
+philosopher’s stone, that transmutes, not base
+metals to gold, but better, evil to good. Believe
+me; I think, Hagar, the story of the philosopher’s
+stone was an allegory, and meant this same
+faith. Why faith will convert the unfaithful by
+the very appeal it makes to their better nature.
+Faith plunges straight through all that is ill in
+a heart, and seizes on that which is good,
+though half smothered in sin, brings it out into
+life and action, cherishes it until it is strong and
+able to struggle with and perhaps to overcome
+the evil. Why, Hagar, just take a case: suppose
+a person whose interests are jostled with
+yours in the conflict of this world becomes your
+opponent, seems your enemy, gives you a great
+deal of trouble, perhaps works you much woe
+in one way or another, yet have faith in <em>him</em>,
+believe that <em>his</em> heart is not <em>all</em> selfishness,
+nor treat it as though it were; believe that
+in that soul watches a <em>conscience</em> that speaks
+for you, if it could be heard; in that heart a <em>human
+sympathy</em> that still suffers for you, if it
+could be felt; a spark of divine and human
+love, in a word, that, however covered up and
+crusted over by sin and selfishness, still lives,
+may still be nursed into a healthful and regenerating
+flame by your love. Have faith in the
+human feeling, even of the selfish. Believe that
+somewhere down in the deeps of their souls,
+buried though it be, there lives some good that
+<em>your</em> goodness might elicit; some love that
+<em>your</em> love might arouse; some faith that <em>your</em>
+faith might sustain; some conscience that your
+forbearance or forgiveness may awaken. And
+on the other hand, Hagar, mistrust of good,
+doubt of good, how fraught with evil it is;
+doubt chains the sinner to his sin, keeps the
+weak man on his couch of weakness. Trust is
+health, life; mistrust is illness, death.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_73'>73</span>“But, aunt, if you had been robbed by a
+person, for instance, would you trust that person
+with your purse?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I do not mean superficial trust,” said Sophie;
+“no, perhaps I would not leave my purse
+in the way of a proved thief, unless I had some
+guarantee of his reformation; but I would have
+<em>trust</em> in <em>his capabilities for reformation</em>, and I
+would run some risk of loss, if necessary, in advancing
+his reformation.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>They were silent some time. Then Hagar
+said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But you are mistaken, Sophie, if you think
+that I doubt or mistrust Raymond; it is not exactly
+that, it is a vague, undefined fear—dread.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“It is the same thing, arises from the same
+thing, Hagar; but conquer it, my dear. Come,
+Hagar, you love Raymond—long months ago
+you promised him your hand—you were miserable
+whenever he left the Hall, even for his
+northern school; you will be wretched when
+once he has left the shores of the United States—you
+will nearly die. I know something of
+that despair, Hagar,” said she, trembling; then
+suddenly stopped, as though frightened at her
+own words.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You, Sophie; why, who ever left you?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hush, my love, hush!” said Sophie, growing
+very pale.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Ah!” thought Hagar to herself, “see how
+she loved <em>Rosalia</em>.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Come, Hagar, let me recall Raymond—he
+loves you, he deserves you—come, Hagar,” said
+Sophie, laying her hand on the dark girl’s arm
+and looking up into her face pleadingly, as
+though <em>she</em> were the child, and Hagar the woman.
+But the girl shook her head; that last
+incident in the conversation, as she understood
+it, was not a propitious one.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>A few days rapidly slid away, and the morning
+of Raymond’s departure arrived. It was a
+very rainy day. His trunks had been corded,
+and were carried down to the beach, to await
+the passing of the packet in which he was to
+sail.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Breakfast was over; and Sophie, Hagar, and
+Raymond <a id='t73'></a>were standing at the window that overlooked
+the bay. Raymond held a spy-glass in
+his hand, which Hagar would sometimes take
+from him and level at a distant object, and Raymond
+would watch, momentarily hoping, expecting,
+that she would drop a whisper, even at
+this last moment, and say, “Stay, Raymond.”
+But she did not. He thought her fingers quivered
+slightly as she returned him the spy-glass,
+and that her voice faltered as she said, “There
+is the vessel in sight, Raymond; look and see if
+it be not.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>It was the packet.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Now she will relent,” he said to himself.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The packet bore rapidly down the bay.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Good-by, dearest Sophie, <i><span lang="fr">petite belle mère</span></i>,”
+said he, drawing Sophie to his bosom, and kissing
+her brow with an assumption of gay indifference.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“God bless and prosper you, Raymond—God
+send you back to us, healthful in body, soul, and
+spirit—good-by, poor, dear Raymond—I am so
+sorry you are going again!” and Sophie sank
+down in the corner of the sofa, bowed her head,
+and sobbed.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Now she <em>will</em> relent,” smiled Raymond to
+himself, as he went to Hagar, held out his arms,
+and said, “Farewell, love! farewell, dear, hard
+Hagar!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I am going down to the beach with you,”
+said she.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>And then Raymond smiled more to himself,
+and again pressing the hand of the weeping
+Sophie, he drew Hagar’s arm within his own,
+and left the house. Hagar had thrown a large
+cloak over her head and shoulders, and Raymond
+hoisted a large umbrella—Tarquinius Superbus
+strutting before them with his arms full of small
+packets, &#38;c. They arrived at the beach—stood
+upon the sand, with the rain pouring down from
+above, and the tide hurrying against their feet
+below as the boat from the packet was rowed
+towards them. He turned and looked in her
+face—all its expression was turned inwards, it
+was so pale, cold, blank. “<em>Ah! I said so</em>,”
+thought Raymond, “relenting little queen!” He
+could not take a lover’s leave of her there—not
+before the rough boatmen, who were devouring
+them with their eyes—but he took her hand and
+pressed it; oh! it was so cold and clammy!
+pressed it to his lips—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Farewell, dear Hagar!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>No answer.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Good-by, Hagar. Do you hear me? I say,
+farewell!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes! Good-by!” said she, almost wildly.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, it is <em>indeed</em> good-by, then, Hagar?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes! Good-by!” gulped Hagar.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He was disappointed—oh! how deeply—he
+stooped, however, and said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hagar, I did not think that you would have
+held out so firmly thus long; now! quick! in
+mercy to me—in mercy to yourself—tell me to
+stay—it is not too late—put your hand in mine—that
+will be enough!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar withdrew both hands.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Boat waitin’, zur!” now broke in the hoarse
+voice of the waterman.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, Hagar? Well?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Good-by!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Is that all?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes! Good-by!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He caught her—he could not help it then—he
+strained her to his bosom, and kissed her—the
+boatmen might laugh, he did not see them—and
+tore himself away, stepped into the skiff, and
+was rowed to the packet. Soon the packet had
+resumed its course down the bay; and the rain
+poured down as she stood there, with Tarquinius
+holding the umbrella over her head. How
+pale, and cold, and still she stood, with all the
+fire of her temperament concentrated in her gaze,
+which burned upon the sails of the receding
+packet, until it was lost, even to her falcon
+glance, while the rain poured down around her,
+and the waves washed up to her. At last,
+“just to see the obstinacy of men!” she said;
+and turning, wandered listlessly home.</p>
+
+<hr class='c013'>
+
+<p class='c008'>The packet wended its way down the bay, it
+was bound for the port of New York; the weather
+was bad, and grew worse; contrary winds
+kept it back, and it was many days longer than
+usual on the voyage. At last it anchored in
+the port of New York. Raymond went to a
+hotel and called for paper, pen, and ink, with
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_74'>74</span>which to write to his friends at Churchill Point.
+Having finished his letters, he took them to the
+Post Office, and after mailing them, ran his eye
+down the published list of letters, as if by hundredth
+hazard his name might be there. It was
+not. Indeed he did not expect to see it. It was
+an idle thing, he thought, but still he would ask
+the clerk if there was a letter there for him.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>What</em> name, sir?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Raymond Withers.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Here is your letter, sir, came in this morning’s
+mail.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He seized the letter—just as you seized <em>that</em>
+letter of yours, you know, reader. It—Raymond’s
+letter, and not yours—was from Sophie,
+and ran thus—</p>
+
+<p class='c014'>“Come home, dear Raymond. Hagar has been nearly
+delirious since you have been gone, yet I believe she
+would expire before she would recall you herself; however,
+come home; I will engage to say that we will
+have a bright little wedding at Heath Hall, yet; indeed,
+so certain am I of that fact, that I have engaged extra
+assistance, and have commenced preparations.”</p>
+
+<p class='c011'>The other part was in a different hand—a dear,
+familiar, light, airy hand, that seemed to skim,
+scarce touching the paper; it ran thus—</p>
+
+<p class='c014'>“I have come to Sophie’s writing-desk, and read
+over her shoulder what she has just written—I, too,
+say—Come home, Raymond!—I place my ‘little hand’
+in yours.”</p>
+
+<p class='c011'>In ten minutes Raymond had written an answer,
+being an <em>avant courier</em> of himself; in ten
+more he had penned a letter of resignation of
+his appointment; and in an hour he had removed
+his baggage from the packet to another bound
+by the bay to Baltimore <em>viâ</em> Churchill Point.</p>
+
+<hr class='c013'>
+
+<p class='c008'>Just a week after sailing from New York, and
+three weeks from the date of his leaving Churchill
+Point, Raymond stepped from a boat upon
+the beach under the promontory, and as true as
+you live, reader, it was pouring rain just as fast
+as it rained upon the day of his departure. And
+there stood a slight dark girl, muffled in a black
+cloak, and behind her, with the whites of his
+eyes and teeth conspicuous, stood Tarquinius
+Superbus, holding an umbrella over her. It
+seemed to Raymond that he had only dozed a
+minute, and dreamed the last three weeks. He
+was by her side in an instant, had pressed her
+hand and drawn it through his arm, and walking
+on with her was bending forward and downward,
+looking into her dark and sparkling face with an
+expression, half affection, half triumph, on his
+superb brow and beautiful lips; but the mirth
+sparkling up from Hagar’s face defied him.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Do you know—does your little highness happen
+to know, Princess Hagar, what inconvenience
+you have put me to—what an agreeable
+three weeks I have passed—two weeks confined
+in the close cabin of a little sea-tossed packet,
+drenched with rain and beset with easterly winds
+which were of course contrary; then one week’s
+voyage back, in weather a little worse than the
+other, except that the wind was favorable; to
+say nothing of the seeming folly of resigning
+my appointment at the moment the embassy was
+to sail. You have inconvenienced the administration
+also, Hagar! think of their having to <em>improvise</em>
+a successor for me at the last moment.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But who would have thought that you would
+have been so stubborn?” laughed Hagar.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Stubborn! it was <em>you</em> who were stubborn,
+Hagar. Good heavens! I never encountered
+such a will in my life!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I could not have believed that you would
+have gone!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I could not have believed that you would
+have suffered me to go.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But I expected you to give up.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And I wished you to yield. Where is that
+boy? Where is Tarquinius? Oh, immediately
+behind us; I thought so. Come, Tarquinius!
+come, Superbus! hurry home and get tea in—you
+waited tea for me, Hagar?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, of course.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Tarquinius toiled with all his might and main
+ahead; but hurrying home, up that steep,
+slippery cliff, was not such sure and expeditious
+work, and Tarquinius kept near them perforce,
+while poor Raymond, still bending forward,
+looked down into Hagar’s liquid eyes and lips,
+like Tantalus looked at the spring that was
+sparkling, leaping, and laughing invitation and
+defiance in his face.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Oh-h!</em>” groaned and smiled Raymond.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Are you tired?” questioned Hagar, maliciously.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, you monkey.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I am afraid you are,” said Hagar.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>In reply to which Raymond stooped down,
+and lifting her lightly in his arms, ran up the
+steep with her, and set her down upon the top,
+then smilingly drew her arm again within his
+own, and they went to the house. How cheerfully
+the firelight and the candle-light glowed
+from the two windows under the shed of the piazza!</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I love to see a light within the house at
+night so much!” said Raymond, “and I like it
+better even in cities than in the country—it looks
+so very cheerful; and then to go through long
+streets at night, in which the houses are closed
+up from top to bottom, and you only guess life
+within through a chink in the shutter—it has to
+me the most ungenial, unsocial, selfish look in
+the world. I always kept the windows of my
+lodgings open until I went to bed, would you
+believe it of me, Hagar, just to add a little to
+the cheerfulness of our dark back street.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie came out to meet them smiling, with
+her brown eyes looking so loving, and conducted
+them in.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Raymond had changed his clothes, and tea
+was over, and they gathered around the fire,
+Sophie with her needle-work, Hagar, the idle
+one, with a spiteful black kitten on her lap,
+whose antics amused her, and distressed Remus
+and Romulus, who were <em>couchant</em> at her feet.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I love a chill, rainy evening just at this
+season of the year,” said Sophie, “because it
+makes it necessary to have a fire, and to gather
+around it with our work.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>And then Raymond, smiling, drew from his
+pocket a book.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What is it, Raymond?” exclaimed both
+ladies in a breath,—(those were not the days of
+cheap literature, reader, nor was that the neighborhood)—in
+those days, and in that country,
+all “books” were “books.” “What is it,
+Raymond?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>And Raymond turned the back, and held it to
+them.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_75'>75</span>Both read in a breath—“Childe Harold,”—and
+both exclaimed in a breath, “Read to us,
+Raymond.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>And Raymond opened the book, while Hagar
+pulled her kitten’s ear, and made it spit and
+bite, and Sophie counted the stitches of her knitting,
+and commenced reading, and there we will
+leave them for the present.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XXI.<br> <span class='c009'>HAGAR’S BRIDAL.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>‘Bride, upon thy marriage day,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Did the fluttering of thy breath</div>
+      <div class='line'>Speak of joy or woe beneath?</div>
+      <div class='line'>And the hue that went and came</div>
+      <div class='line'>O’er thy cheek like wavering flame,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Flowed that crimson from the unrest</div>
+      <div class='line'>Or the gladness of thy breast?’</div>
+      <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>Hemans.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>Poor Gusty had walked about several days
+in a stupor, “stunned by a sockdologer,” he said,
+into a stupor from which nothing could arouse
+him; he longed for the time when he should be
+ordered to sea, but alas! that time was very
+distant yet, he feared. He had never been at the
+Hall since what he called “that fatal evening.”
+Emily was happy that an end was put to his
+hopes of Hagar at any cost of present pain to
+him.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Gusty,” said she one morning, “do you
+know Hagar is to be married week after next?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, mother.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Do you know that Sophie wants very much
+to get Rosalia home to the wedding?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Does she?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes—but unluckily no one seems to be
+travelling down in this direction from the neighborhood
+of her school, so that she cannot get
+an escort; Sophie cannot leave home to go after
+her, and she has no one she can send.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Let me go! I carried her to school, you
+know; let me go and bring her home!” exclaimed
+Gusty, jumping up, very glad of a job
+that would stir his blood into a little circulation.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Then as soon as dinner, which is just ready,
+is over, go to Heath Hall, and offer your services
+to Mrs. Withers, Mr. May. God bless
+this poor boy!” said she, taking his head between
+her hands, “he thinks his sun has set, and
+left his world in darkness, and he thinks that his
+life is made a ‘howling wilderness,’ and he
+thinks a great many horrible poetical things besides,
+and he has a slight suspicion that if he
+could put all that he feels upon paper, he
+would make a great poet. Well, now, let me
+advise you to improve the time, master poet; it
+will be short—write while the fire is blazing in
+the heart, and the brain boiling over it like a pot—do,
+Gusty, for presently the fire will all be
+out, and the brain quiet, and the clouds will
+clear away from your sky, and the sun will rise
+upon your stormy night and convert it into a
+very humdrum forenoon, unsuggestive of anything
+but dinner.”</p>
+
+<hr class='c013'>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie and Hagar were in conversation together
+in the chamber of the former, as Gusty
+rode into the yard. Sophie was trimming the
+white satin boddice of a beautiful dress that lay
+over the bed.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And now I shall not wear that!” said Hagar.
+“I do not like it, it does not suit me. I
+shall feel in borrowed plumes if I wear that; it
+no more suits me than the white feathers of the
+dove would suit the kite.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But, Hagar, my love, you would not wear
+anything else than white, would you? I never
+heard of a bride, a young bride, wearing colors
+in her bride dress.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But <em>I</em> shall—I shall wear a black lace dress.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Black! mercy, Hagar, you would make
+yourself so conspicuous, you would shock the
+whole neighborhood!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar laughed wildly, “You know very well
+that <em>that</em> is my besetting sin, Sophie; when this
+inane neighborhood is falling into an apathy, I
+feel a propensity to shock it into a little life!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! you will think more rationally of this,
+I know it, for I know you would not willingly
+shock Raymond—but tell me, does he seriously
+intend writing to Dr. Otterback to come down?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Very seriously, for he <em>has</em> gone to his room
+for that purpose now. You see, dear Sophie,
+that I wished it myself. I am like that poor
+fellow who was hanged at Churchill Point a
+year ago; who, you recollect, would not receive
+the services of a Jack Ketch in the arrangement
+of his toilet, but insisted that the high sheriff
+should officiate, exclaiming, with an expiring
+flash of self-respect, ‘If I <em>am</em> to be hanged, I’ll
+be hanged by a gentleman!’<a id='r4'></a><a href='#f4' class='c012'><sup>[4]</sup></a> Now if a halter
+must be tied about my neck it shall be tied by a
+bishop!”</p>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f4'>
+<p class='c008'><a href='#r4'>4</a>. A fact.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c008'>The girl’s manner was full of wild gaiety.
+Sophie gently rebuked her for speaking of sad
+and grave subjects with wanton lightness. But
+the girl’s eyes flashed more mirth and fire than
+before, as she said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Dear Sophie, how can you expect of me
+pity for others who have now none at all for
+myself—when I have made up my mind to be
+hanged or married I can do it; if hanging were
+the dish, I should not think of the horror, the
+agony, the death—my mind would leap straight
+through that dark, quick passage to the light!
+the joy! the immortality!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, Hagar! and you say that not reverently,
+but triumphantly! oh, Hagar! what a heart you
+have to break down. A young bit of a maiden,
+yet with no gentleness, no tenderness, no sympathy—a
+little, slight, dark creature, yet with the
+fire, courage, and fierceness of a young panther.
+Oh! Hagar, how much I fear for you!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Just at this moment a light rap was heard at
+the door; Sophie arose and opened it. It was a
+servant come to say that Mr. May was below
+stairs and requested to see Mrs. Withers. Sophie
+followed the messenger. She found Gusty
+waiting in the parlor. Sophie was not unacquainted
+with the secret that the poor fellow’s
+despair had betrayed to all his friends, but this
+was the first time, be it remembered, that he had
+visited the Hall since the destruction of his hopes.
+Sophie’s manner was unusually gentle and affectionate
+to him, so much so that poor Gusty
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_76'>76</span>whose heart was sadly suffering for sympathy,
+said to her suddenly at the close of their interview,
+and after all the arrangements relative to
+his mission had been agreed upon,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“How much older are you than I, Sophie?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Eight years,” answered Sophie, opening her
+large eyes. “Why?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Nothing—it is too much, I suppose! but may
+be it is not, as I am sure I am a great deal taller
+and twice as broad shouldered, and sun-burnt
+and all that, so that I am sure I must look as
+old as you?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What are you thinking of, Gusty?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Be hanged if you do look more than a very
+gentle little girl after all, not half so self-sustained
+and womanly as Hagar!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why, Gusty?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I mean, Sophie, will you marry me? I am
+very steady of my years—all to taking care of
+mother—and I shall behave myself better than
+you think for, indeed I shall.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why, Gusty!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Sophie, you’ll think it strange after all that
+phrensy of mine for Hagar, that I now offer you
+my hand, a boy’s hand; but, Sophie, I always
+<em>did</em> love you and like to stay with you, and now
+that Hagar has thrown me away, I feel weak,
+suffering, as if I wanted some one to love me
+protectingly, to nurse me, to pet me—you are
+the very one, Sophie! I am so lonesome, so
+miserable, feel so unnecessary in the world. I
+am first person singular, nominative case to nothing
+under the sun just now! I want some one
+to love so much! some dear gentle girl that will
+love me with all her heart and soul, and not feel
+jealous of this anguish I must suffer for the loss
+of Hagar. Come, Sophie, pity me—my manhood,
+strength, spirit, impetuosity is all melting
+out of me. I feel like a poor dog that has no
+owner!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Your mother, Gusty.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! mother, has not she a husband, as well
+as Hagar a lover? Come, Sophie, you spent
+the first years of your youth in nursing a sick
+brain—spend the rest in nursing a sick heart—love
+me, Sophie. Oh, if you knew how I suffered,
+you would love me,” and Gusty fairly
+dropped his head down upon Sophie’s shoulder
+and <em>almost</em> wept. She let it lie there—nay she
+caressed that young grief-bowed head, as she
+said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I always have loved you, Gusty, and always
+shall, and will do anything in the world I can to
+make you happy.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Thank you, dear Sophie. I thought you
+were too good to be proud because you happened
+to be the eldest; now, Sophie, how long will it
+be first, for I want to live with you, and lay my
+head upon your little shoulder, just so, while I
+talk to you of my troubles and you soothe me—when
+shall it be, Sophie?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What be, Gusty?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Our wedding!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Nonsense, dear Gusty, <em>never</em>. You are mad
+to think of such a thing, Gusty!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Then you won’t.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Certainly not—-you were never surely serious
+in such a strange proposition! no, of course
+you were not! I was silly to give you a serious
+reply!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“As the Lord in Heaven hears me, I am serious—I
+must be loved—love me, Sophie.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I <em>do</em> love you, and <em>will</em> love you, how can I
+help it? but as to marrying you, Gusty! nonsense!
+Why, see here, when I was a little girl of eight
+years old, you were a babe of a few weeks, and
+I used to carry you in my arms all over the
+house, and have helped to nurse and educate you
+from infancy up, at least you knew I did until
+of late years,” said Sophie, correcting herself;
+“now do you feel as if you still would like to
+marry your nurse, your little mother?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty was silent.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, Gusty, you will get over this in a few
+days, you will see some one else. I know by
+your professions to me that it is not <em>love</em>, but the
+<em>want</em> of love, that makes you miserable—your
+journey will help your cheerfulness, too. You
+must set out to-morrow.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He took his hat and riding-whip to go.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Sophie, won’t you come over to mother’s
+and spend the evening this evening?—do,
+Sophie, it is lonesome over there, and mother
+and yourself can talk over the hundred thousand
+subjects of interest you have in hand.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, I will come, Gusty.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Don’t bring Hagar!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And, Sophie, mind, don’t let mother know
+what a fool I have been making myself.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, no!” smiled Sophie, and the interview
+closed.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty had to call at Churchill’s Point, it was
+mail-day; and Gusty, though his correspondence
+was far from extensive, always made a point of
+being present at the opening of the mail.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Here is a letter for your ma, Mr. May,”
+said the little old widow, who was post-mistress
+for Churchill Point.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“From my Uncle Augustus,” exclaimed
+Gusty, as he received it, “postmarked Boston—ha!
+his ship is in port—wonder when he is
+coming down.” So musing, Gusty quickened his
+horse’s pace, and rode on towards the cottage.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“A letter from uncle, mother,” said he, as he
+laid it on the stand by her side, “and Sophie has
+accepted my escort for her niece, and I am to set
+off in the morning. Sophie will be here with us
+to tea.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Emily nodded and nodded assent to everything
+he said, though she heard not half while
+devouring her brother’s letter.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“How is he—what does he say, mother?”
+exclaimed Gusty, when she had finished reading.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“He will visit us soon—he is going to be
+married.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Mar—married!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“To whom?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“To a young lady, he says, whom he has
+known for a long time, and who has his warmest
+affections and his highest respect.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“He married, too! well everybody gets
+married but me—lend me the letter, mother, let
+me see all about it,” and she handed him the
+letter. While he was reading the letter, Emily
+looked out, and exclaimed:—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“There is Sophie now! go and help her
+from her saddle, Gusty!” and Gusty went.
+Emily followed more at leisure, and received
+her friend with her accustomed affection, whispering
+in confidence, “I have made a cream
+cake for your tea, darling,” and led her in, took
+off her bonnet, and seated her near the pleasantest
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_77'>77</span>window. When she had carried away her
+things, and returned, sitting by her, she said
+suddenly, in the midst of a gossipping conversation:—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But, Sophie, you never ask me after my
+brother Augustus!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Don’t I?” said Sophie, faintly.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why, <em>no</em>, you know you don’t—what ever
+can be the reason?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“How is he—have you a letter?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Ah! exactly—‘how is he,’ when I have
+reminded you to ask.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Forgive my forgetfulness, Emily.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“His ship has returned, did you know it?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No,” said Sophie softly.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, it <em>has</em>. Came in port nine days since—he
+is coming down to visit us very soon—how
+long has it been since you saw him, Sophie?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I don’t know,” answered Sophie reservedly.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Let’s see, I can tell, he has only been here
+three times since, and that was while you were
+so taken up, that you never came near us—let’s
+see, it will be exactly eight years next Tuesday
+week since you met, and next Tuesday week I
+am to give a party to our bride, Hagar. He
+will be here on that day, and I fancy there will
+be another bride. Why, Sophie, what a color
+you have this evening—he is going to be married,
+and will probably bring his wife down—no,
+Sophie, it must have been the reflection of the
+sunset, for now I see you are quite pale, paler
+than usual—are you sick?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! no, no.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“A little fatigued, I suppose. (Gusty rang
+for tea.) Yes! a young lady to whom he has
+long been attached—she’s fainted. I wonder
+when Sophie will ever have any nerves?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“How easily she swoons! Sophie never <em>was</em>
+strong,” exclaimed Emily, as she raised and set
+her back, reached a tumbler of water, and
+bathed her temples. As Sophie opened her
+eyes she met those of Emily, looking kindly,
+sweetly, and with a new expression, into hers.
+“How do you feel, love?” was Emily’s first
+question.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Better.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What made you faint? was it fatigue?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>I once told you, reader, of Sophie’s deep
+veneration for truth, that would never permit her
+even to prevaricate. She was silent, and Emily
+looking again into her eyes, refrained from
+asking her any more questions, but smiled to
+herself, as in a few minutes she said to Sophie:—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Now, my love, I have got to answer my
+brother’s letter by return mail; will you excuse
+me? I will not leave your side, but draw the
+stand to me, and write it here; it will not occupy
+me more than fifteen minutes.” She drew her
+writing-desk before her, and, selecting her paper,
+commenced writing, while Kitty brought in the
+tea-things. At last, looking up from her work,
+she said:—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I have told Augustus that you are sitting by
+my side while I write; now what shall I tell
+him from <em>you</em>?” Sophie was still silent. “Come,
+Sophie!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Give him my respects.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Fiddle-sticks! why did you not send your
+<em>duty</em> at once, like a school-girl to her papa?
+your respects!” but then she looked at Sophie
+and saw her still so pale, so tremulous, that she
+turned and quietly resumed her writing.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>If you had been looking over her shoulder,
+you might have read the following lines:</p>
+
+<p class='c014'>“Dearest brother—dearest Augustus—welcome! first
+to your native shores, and then soon, very soon, I hope,
+to your sister’s home and bosom. Now concerning the
+subject of your letter, I must write cautiously, as I perceive
+that <em>you</em> recollected to do—because our worthy
+old post-mistress takes the liberty of peeping in at the
+ends of all private and confidential letters that pass and
+repass through her hands.<a id='r5'></a><a href='#f5' class='c012'><sup>[5]</sup></a> She will get something
+indigestible if she pries into this; no matter for her!
+About this other affair—yes, come! I have no <em>doubt</em> of
+it, <em>never</em> have had from first to last, though nothing in
+her manner, no look, word, or gesture, ever revealed
+the fact to me until this afternoon; nay, I believe the
+poor thing was unconscious herself, for you know I
+think she is one of the excellent of the earth, one of
+God’s peculiar favorites; and through all these dark
+days I always had a faith in her eventual happiness
+even in this world, for the promise, Augustus, is both
+for <em>this</em> world and the next; hear it, ‘Godliness is profitable
+unto <em>all things</em>, having the promise of <em>the life
+that now is</em>, and of that which is to come;’ and listen
+again! for I don’t think that you attend to these things
+as much as you ought to: ‘No man hath left house,
+or parents, or brethren, or wife, or children, for the
+kingdom of God’s sake, that shall not receive manifold
+more in this <em>present time</em>, and in the world to come life
+everlasting;’ and <em>her</em> martyrdom, poor girl, was so sincere,
+however mistaken—so sincere and complete, for
+she thought it for life! It was all rayless darkness to
+her; the future illumined only by her Christian love
+and faith. And she is so beautiful, Augustus; so much
+more beautiful now at twenty-five, than she was at
+seventeen, when you saw her last; her health and
+spirits have suffered somewhat, but that has only lent
+the inexpressible charm of delicacy and pensiveness to
+her beauty. I rejoice in you both, Augustus! I rejoice
+in you both, and I bless you from my full heart! I rejoice
+in the ‘more than Roman virtue’ with which you
+died to each other, fully believing it eternal separation—with
+which you ever sternly wrested your thoughts
+from the other. I, the friend of both, have never once
+been made the medium of the slightest communication,
+the slightest inquiry or message such as acquaintances
+might interchange. You <em>died</em> to each other, believing
+it for ever, and that was right. But <em>this</em> is not right;
+it is not right that you should bind me to secresy about
+the subject of this letter, upon the ground that you do
+not know the state of her mind, or how she might receive
+it. Come and see for yourself—and even now
+she is looking up at me with her patient brown eyes,
+and believing—Heaven forgive me!—no matter.
+Come soon</p>
+
+<div class='footnote c015' id='f5'>
+<p class='c008'><a href='#r5'>5</a>. Fact of a good old post-mistress in —— county,
+Maryland, to my own serious discomfiture.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-r c015'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“<span class='sc'>Emily</span>.”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>“Please, madam! the tea will get cold,” exclaimed
+Kitty, and Emily hastily sealed and directed
+her letter, and they sat down to the table.</p>
+
+<hr class='c013'>
+
+<p class='c008'>The wedding-day of Hagar and Raymond
+dawned. They were anxiously awaiting the
+packet, which they expected would bring Rosalia
+and Gusty, and perhaps, also, Dr. Otterback,
+who was to come down from Baltimore. Afternoon
+came, and Hagar, trying girl! instead of
+secluding herself in the mystery of her own
+room until it was time to dress, Hagar was
+down on the beach with a telescope, watching
+the approach of a distant vessel. While she
+was intently gazing, she felt her arm twitched,
+and looking back saw Blanche Rogers, who had
+been domesticated for several days at the Hall,
+employed in assisting Sophie with the bridal millinery
+and confectionery.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Come, you torment! Come, you trial! it is
+time to dress! <em>time!</em>—high time! both rooms are
+full of company; and now I shall have to steal
+you into the house through the back way!
+Come!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_78'>78</span>Blanche Rogers was fully her equal in social
+position, besides being several years older than
+Hagar, yet not for this would the wild, proud
+girl, permit the familiarity of her address—lowering
+her telescope, she said with spirit,—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“The evening dews are chill, Miss Rogers;
+perhaps you had better not expose yourself to
+their influence, as you are not so well accustomed
+to them as myself. <em>I</em> watch the approach of
+yonder packet, and must see whether it contain
+passengers for the Hall, before I leave the
+beach.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, but my little self-willed, headstrong
+bride, it is <em>late</em>; the company are assembled;
+we have determined not to await the arrival of
+the bishop, or of the laggards, Rose and Gusty;
+we have settled that the ceremony shall proceed;
+we cannot wait much longer for anybody.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I rather think you will have to wait some
+time longer for the bride!” said the girl, “unless,
+indeed, you could fancy the ‘tragedy of Hamlet,
+with the part of the Prince of Denmark omitted.’”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But, oh! Hagar, this is shocking!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Is it? So much the better; you need to be
+shocked!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>While they spoke, the vessel bore down rapidly
+towards the point—stopped—a boat was
+put out and rowed towards the beach, and old
+Dr. Otterback alone stepped upon the sand.
+The old man came smilingly forward, rubbing
+his hands and holding them out. Blanche
+stepped forward to welcome him.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hey, Miss—Miss ——, I remember you, you
+monkey, though I don’t remember your name, or
+know if you have changed it.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Miss Rogers!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Miss—<em>what!</em> not married yet?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“La! no, Dr. Otterback, I was waiting for
+<em>you</em>! Ain’t you a single man? You looked
+so much at your ease, I really thought you were,
+anyhow?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And you would put me out of my ease,
+hey? No, I’ll tell you the reason you are not
+married; the young men are afraid of you, that
+is it.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Not so, Dr. Otterback; I have twelve
+beaux, but I should be afraid to marry one of
+them for fear that eleven of them would hang
+themselves.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Twelve</em> would hang themselves, my lady,
+you may be sure of that! But, this is Miss
+Churchill, if I am not mistaken,” said he, going
+up to Hagar.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar curtsied, blushed with all her spirit;
+she was embarrassed, abashed, as well as much
+disappointed. This meeting Dr. Otterback alone,
+under such circumstances, was not what she had
+anticipated; not what it would have been,
+covered with the shower of welcomes that would
+have attended the reception of the <em>whole party</em>,
+had Gusty and Rosalia been with him. One
+thing, however, if Dr. Otterback recognised her
+as the bride of the evening, he did not appear to
+do so. They reached the Hall. The whole
+yard and surrounding grounds of the Hall were
+filled with carriages tied to the trees. Hagar
+reached her room without encountering any of
+the guests—though as she passed up the long
+wide staircase, and through the passages, she
+could hear the half-suppressed hum of voices in
+the bed-rooms; the hushed voices of ladies who
+had arrived late and were re-arranging their
+toilet after their ride.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar did <em>not</em> wear the threatened black lace
+dress; she wore just what she should have worn,
+just what, with little variety, <em>all</em> brides wear;
+viz. a white Mechlin lace over white satin;
+pearls on her arms and neck, and a wreath of
+orange blossom buds twined irregularly in and
+out among her glittering blue-black tresses. But
+she was the most fidgety little bride you ever
+saw; her bosom rose and fell convulsively, and
+her little dark fingers twirled and twitched spasmodically,
+as the party stood before the bishop,
+in the midst of the assembled company; and
+more than once Raymond’s soft hand pressure
+and reassuring whisper were needed.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>It was over. Sophie lifted the veil from her
+head and whispered very softly,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“God bless you, my own dear child, my foster
+child, my nursling. God make you happy.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>And then Hagar’s wild eyes flew off from
+Sophie’s face to light on Raymond’s countenance,
+to meet his eyes; and then her expression
+changed—tragedy and comedy, deep joy, foreboding
+fear, comic humor and earnest affection
+were blended in the blushing and sparkling face
+she raised to meet his self-possessed and loving
+smile. It was strange, queer—a few words had
+been pattered over by a fat old gentleman in a
+gown; and, lo! all their relations were changed.
+It was curious; her very name and title were gone,
+and the girl, two minutes since a wild, free
+maiden, was now little better than a bondwoman;
+and the gentle youth who two minutes since might
+have sued humbly to raise the tips of her little dark
+fingers to his lips, was now invested with a lifelong
+authority over her. Yes, it <em>was so</em> curious!
+and the spirited girl was in doubt whether to
+laugh or cry; and the expression of mingled
+emotions on her face blended into one of intense
+interest and inquiry as she met his gaze and
+smile, which she could not help fancying <em>patronizing
+and condescending</em>, as well as protective and
+loving! A new, extremely provoking feature in
+his smile! but perhaps she only fancied it. But
+this new relation, this new position, this new
+owning and being owned—it was very unique!
+very piquant! and Hagar felt it so! and her
+wild dark face gleamed and sparkled more and
+more all the evening; and every once in a while
+she would furtively look at Raymond as though
+he had been suddenly metamorphosed into something
+very awful; and if Raymond caught her
+stolen glance at such a time, her face and neck
+would be dyed with crimson.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>I do not mean to weary you with a description
+of this wedding, nor tell you how the chambers
+of Heath Hall were crowded with guests that
+night, nor how old Cumbo fretted and fumed
+over the preparation of the state dinner the next
+day; nor how the dancing party came off in the
+evening; nor how disappointed Sophie was at
+the still prolonged absence of Rosalia and Gusty;
+nor how her thoughts occasionally wandered—but
+I will not even hint at <em>that</em>. None of
+these things will I trouble you with—but come
+to the Tuesday upon which Mrs. Buncombe was
+to give her sober, clerical-like evening party to
+the newly married pair—premising that Rosalia
+and Gusty had not yet arrived. It was a beautiful
+evening, and our party from Heath Hall
+rode over to Grove Cottage by moonlight.
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_79'>79</span>Emily’s rooms were well lighted and well filled—and
+Emily herself, with her quiet gaiety moving
+about, diffusing cheerfulness around. The
+bridal party, as usual there, sat at the extremity
+of the room opposite the entrance. Sophie sat
+with them; her small soft hands folded lovingly
+together on the lap of her brown satin dress,
+and her large eyes bent in reverie upon them.
+Very far from the scene must her thoughts have
+wandered, as she did not hear the slight agitation
+around the front door of the room, or see
+the entrance of an officer in the full dress uniform
+of a captain in the United States Navy,
+who, conducted by Emily, approached, bowing
+and smiling recognition on either side; she did
+not even look up until a light finger dropped
+softly on her hand, and she raised her large eyes
+to behold Emily, and—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“My brother, Captain Wilde, United States
+Navy—Mrs. Withers!” said Emily, presenting
+him with mock gravity. And Sophie mechanically
+arose, curtsied, and sank into her seat
+again, as though she had never set eyes upon
+him before. She did so involuntarily, and without
+again raising her eyes; a weight like destiny
+seemed to weigh down the eyelids. Captain
+Wilde looked right and left in search of a seat,
+but found none, until a youth, one of Raymond’s
+groomsmen, who was sitting by Sophie, politely
+relinquished his seat, which was as politely
+accepted by Captain Wilde. Emily moved off,
+leaning on the arm of the boy. Captain Wilde
+glanced all around the room—no! no one was
+minding him—old men were talking politics and
+agriculture, and old women gossipping scandal and
+housewifery, and young men were courting seriously
+or flirting flippantly, and young women
+were being courted; no one was minding him—no
+one seemed at all interested in the sayings and
+doings of Captain Augustus Wilde, United States
+Navy, in full dress uniform though he was. He
+turned to look at Sophie; <em>she</em> was looking
+straight down at a ring upon the third finger of
+her left hand—<em>he</em> followed her eyes and looked
+at it, too; and now, losing her presence of
+mind, growing very much confused, and blushing
+deeply, she began unconsciously to twist it
+round and round—while he watched the operation.
+At last, while apparently in doubt how to
+address her, he made a remark, startling in its
+profundity—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“There is quite an assembly here this evening,
+madam.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Her reply, given in a very low tone, was
+equally original:</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, sir, a large company for so sparse a
+neighborhood.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, the neighborhood <em>is</em> sparse and not increasing
+in population, I think; no new settlers
+coming in, while a considerable number of the
+old families are moving off. Is it not so?” said
+he, stooping forward, and looking intently upon
+Sophie’s varying cheek, as though life and death
+were in the answer.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, sir.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What do you suppose to be the reason?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I really do not know.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“One thing I know to be, the deterioration
+of land here, owing to their dreadfully destructive
+system of agriculture—the contrast between
+New England and the Southern States is so
+striking in this feature of agriculture; don’t you
+think so?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Indeed, I never think about it.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, you are not at all a <em>fermière</em>. Yes, the
+contrast is very striking; the New Englanders
+have raised, by the labor of their own hands, a
+naturally ungenial soil to a high state of productiveness,
+while your Maryland planters have,
+even with the aid of their troops of negroes, exhausted
+the fertility of a soil naturally very productive.
+Why, Mrs. Withers, I am informed
+that your planters, instead of manuring their
+ground, plant one third of their land in rotation
+every year, leaving two thirds to recover itself.
+This must exhaust land very soon.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie was silent.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Warm climates and rich soils, where little
+labor is required to gain a subsistence, engender
+habits of indolence; now, though your climate
+is not very warm, yet I think that the original
+richness of your soil and the convenience of your
+gangs of negroes, first seduced your planters into
+their slovenly habits of <a id='t79'></a>cultivation—do you not
+think so?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie burst into tears. Her soft heart had
+been filling for the last half hour, and it ran over
+in tears! First a start of surprise, then a bright
+smile, then a quick glance around the room, and
+a bowed head and a low whisper in Sophie’s ear.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Sophie!</em> the rooms are close and crowded,
+come, walk in the grapery with me!” and drawing
+her arm through his own, he led her forth
+into the yard, down that long shaded grape walk
+that led from the cottage porch through the yard
+to the cottage gate. They paused at the gate,
+separated, turned and looked at each other; the
+moon was shining full upon their faces, they
+could see each other serenely and distinctly. It
+was no longer Captain Augustus Wilde, bristling
+in his new uniform, and with a long string of U.
+S. N.’s at the end of his name, and it was no
+longer Mrs. Withers; but no—<em>she</em> had <em>never</em>
+changed, or even <em>seemed</em> to change. It was the
+Sophie and Gusty Wilde of eight years before!
+and as he gazed at her, the light kept leaping in
+his eyes, and,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Oh, Sophie! my Sophie!</em>” and opening his
+arms he caught her to his bosom and kissed!
+oh! he kissed her forehead, eyes, and lips, as
+though his lips would have grown there! and
+then holding her head a little off upon his arm,
+the better to gaze upon her, he looked down
+delightedly into her happy, smiling face, for it
+<em>was</em> a happy, smiling face now, and he said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, my dear Sophie! this is <em>deep joy</em>, this
+is <em>charming comicality</em>, too! It <em>is</em>, you little
+brown-eyed witch! To think that scarcely five
+minutes ago, you and I were sitting in yonder
+crowded drawing-room, talking of <em>farming</em> and
+<em>agriculture</em>, and calling each other ‘sir’ and
+‘madam,’ ‘Mrs. Withers’ and ‘Captain Wilde,’
+with our bursting hearts covered over with conventional
+trivialities, as people might cover a
+mine with straw and stubble, with a paper wall
+between us, which your flood of tears washed
+down. God <em>bless</em> those tears! God <em>bless</em> those
+eyes that had no single glance—those lips that
+had no single tone for pride or deception, my
+own dear Sophie! You are more affectionate,
+more tender, more gentle, more natural than I
+am, my own sweet-lipped, gentle-eyed Sophie!”
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_80'>80</span>and he drew her closely and kissed her again,
+but there was less ardor, more tenderness, and
+less passion and more affection in this caress.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, this is sweet, it is sweet, <em>Sophie! Sophie!</em>
+Why, her very name is something to breathe
+one’s soul away upon; let us sit down, my
+Sophie—this meeting, this fast-flooding joy overpowers
+me!” and he sank down upon one of the
+long benches that ran on either side of the whole
+length of the walk, and he opened his arms again
+and said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Come, gentle Sophie, come sit beside me;
+lay your dear head under my arm, against my
+bosom, and let me talk to you. I am growing
+dizzier every moment; I thought I was prepared
+for this meeting, but, oh! my Sophie, I am as
+much stunned as though the thunder cloud of
+joy had but just broken over me! Say something
+rational to me, Sophie—<em>do</em>, dear child!
+You cannot? No, you cannot; you are as silly
+this moment, my gentle dove, as I am myself.
+But why do not you talk to me, darling? Your
+soft eyes are shining with love and joy, but you
+have not a word for me—why?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I am thinking of you so much,” said Sophie,
+softly; “I am thinking, dearest friend, of the
+long, long years you have passed in desolation
+of heart, without a home, except your ship and
+quarters, without a fireside of your own, without
+a family circle, without affection; coming in
+and going out of port, alike unblessed, unwelcomed,
+and unwept, and all for me! for me! I
+am thinking of that, and wondering if life and
+soul could repay such love!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Understand me, dearest; it was <em>not</em> all for
+you—it was not, God knows, in the hope of ever
+possessing you! that would have been criminal,
+Sophie. No, dearest, when I parted with you
+at the carriage door upon that memorable evening,
+I carried with me, it is true, a desperate
+hope! but what am I talking of? I beg your
+pardon, Sophie; I said I was dizzy! yet this
+one thing permit me to say, dear Sophie; when
+I received a letter from my somewhat coolheaded
+sister, telling me that your marriage was
+over, and all about it, I as completely, as
+unreservedly, resigned you, as ever martyr at
+the stake resigned the life that was forced from
+him, without the least expectation of ever seeing
+you again, far less of this, of this!” and Captain
+Wilde went off into raptures again, kissing
+her again at “this” and “this.”—“No, Sophie, I
+made up my mind to turn you out of my heart.
+I found it hard work; though I resolved to
+banish the thought of you, I struggled with it in
+vain! Struggling with a subject of thought—banishing
+a subject of thought, is a contradiction
+in terms; for while you have it by the head
+and shoulders, trying to put it out, you are more
+intertwined with it than ever, and it holds you
+fast. And I found, Sophie, that the only way
+to be rid of an inconvenient and intrusive image,
+was to fly from it, and I wrenched my attention
+off and riveted it upon another subject. It is a
+great thing, this free will of ours; I just had
+resolved to consider you as dead. I never
+inquired after you; and Emily, soon guessing my
+wish, never mentioned you in one of her letters.
+I studied the ancient languages, and soon, in the
+intervals of professional duty, I became quite
+absorbed in digging out Greek roots. It is
+an important duty, this government of the
+thoughts; they are the avenues by which good
+or evil approaches the soul. Only three weeks
+since, Sophie, it was that I learned that you had
+been free for nearly eighteen months. Only three
+weeks since, when coming into Boston harbor, I
+found a letter in the Post Office, long waiting
+from Emily.” He fell into a reverie for a few
+minutes, from which he started, exclaiming:—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Eight years! just think of it, Sophie!
+Eight years! and you are so much more beautiful
+and lovable—though once I did not think
+that could possibly be—but you are <em>so</em> beautiful,
+Sophie! Ah! indeed, I think that sorrow and
+thought and time are sometimes great beautifiers.
+You are <em>so</em> lovely—and I, Sophie!
+Sophie, I am thirty years old, how do you find
+me?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'><em>She replied with her eyes!</em> Her head was on
+his bosom, and her face upturned to his. His
+arm was around her waist, and his hand fondly
+nestling over both of hers. How long they sat
+thus, and into what deep silence they would fall
+while their spirits mingled! At last he said
+slowly, gently breaking the holy silence, reverentially:—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“My Sophie, I have but two or three days to
+remain in this neighborhood. My leave of absence
+was for three weeks. I was nine days in
+coming from Boston. I have twelve days left
+for my visit and voyage back. I must allow
+myself ten days for my return to insure punctuality.
+Now, it is demonstrated that I have but
+two days, to-morrow and the next day, to
+remain here.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But why?” inquired Sophie, tearfully,
+“why? I always thought officers in returning
+from a voyage had a long leisure before
+them?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, but, my dear, I have just been appointed
+to take command of a store-ship lying in Boston
+Harbor.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes. So that I must leave. Let us see—this
+is Tuesday—I must leave Friday morning.
+You are not attending to me, Sophie?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, yes, I am indeed.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She had fallen into deep thought.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“It may be six months before I can come
+again.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh no, not so long as that!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Most probably <em>longer</em>, Sophie!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She turned her face down upon his bosom,
+quietly weeping.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Will you leave here with me Friday morning,
+Sophie?</em>”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She did not answer.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Perhaps you think it an unlucky day. Will
+you go with me <em>Thursday</em> morning?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She raised her head, but did not reply. He
+drew it back upon his bosom, and looking down
+upon her blushing face, where the tear-drops lay
+like dew on the red rose, he said gently:—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I know where the trouble is, my Sophie;
+you are thinking what your neighbors will be
+likely to say if you marry so suddenly, to them
+so strangely—is not that it? But, Sophie, you
+will surely never weigh my affection and comfort
+against the gossip of a set of thoughtless
+neighbors? you will never do so,” said he
+earnestly, alarmed at her continued silence, and
+pressing her closely to his bosom,—“You will
+not weigh our happiness with etiquette!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_81'>81</span>“No,” she said, quietly, “not with etiquette
+will I weigh it, for I wish to go with you, Augustus;
+nor with duty <em>must</em> I weigh it.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What do you mean, dearest Sophie?” exclaimed
+he, anxiously.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Only this—there are some preliminaries to
+be arranged, that cannot be settled without you.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Then, whatever they may be, they <em>are</em> settled—just
+consider them settled, Sophie,” said he,
+earnestly.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But hear them; these are not things that can
+be despatched and forgotten; they may attend
+us some time. I would have you make no rash
+vows about them, Augustus.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“They are <em>settled</em>, I tell you, Sophie! <em>settled!</em>
+Your will, your wishes, are enough—are
+paramount! Have I not confidence in you,
+dearest Sophie? More, far more, than I have
+in myself; they are <em>settled</em>!” exclaimed he, impetuously.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But you must know them to assist me.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Very well; upon <em>that</em> account, I will listen,
+darling; but first, mind you, Sophie, I am to
+understand, am I not, that when I have settled
+all these preliminaries, we are to be united, and
+leave <em>together</em> on Thursday morning—ha! say,
+Sophie?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes,” whispered Sophie, with a dying cadence.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Say! speak louder, Sophie. I mistrust my
+ears—did you say ‘yes’?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, yes!” said Sophie, blushing scarlet,
+with the tears in her eyes, “I said ‘yes.’”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes! Ah! stop, let me take time to take
+in all this idea of ‘yes.’ Thursday morning,
+Sophie my wife! There is a point at which joy
+stuns one! Speak to me, Sophie!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I think that you forget I have not told you
+my preliminaries.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, the preliminaries! any that <em>I</em> have anything
+to do with? Never mind them, Sophie;
+but you are sure that you will not disappoint
+me Thursday morning? are you sure you will
+not put me off—tell me about dresses to be made,
+or a wedding party to be got up, or at least
+make a delay about breaking up housekeeping
+at Heath Hall? Ah, yes! certainly, I see now;
+these are the very preliminaries of which you
+speak; and how, alas! can we settle them in
+two days!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Dear Augustus!” said Sophie, “do you think
+me so unconscious of the worth of your regard,
+and so ungrateful for it, as to think of trifling
+with it, or deferring our”—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Marriage?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes; upon any but grounds of <em>duty</em>”—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, dear, dear, dear! <em>what</em> is it, then, Sophie;
+let us hear it quick! I listen, darling,
+punctilious little brown-eyed darling!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, then, our Rosalia”—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Rosalia!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, Rosalia Aguilar—<em>our</em> Rose, our beauty,
+our moonbeam, our love!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You are enthusiastic, my Sophie!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I am when I think of <em>her</em>! Oh, she is the
+very soul of love! My life became brighter,
+warmer, richer, when she came to me. That
+beautiful and loving child! her love bathes
+everything she looks upon in light and heat, as
+the sunbeams flood the landscapes! You will
+love her so much! She, the sweet child, loves
+all things—pities, spares, or ministers to all
+things, from the broken rose-tree that wants
+binding up, to the old negro toiling home at
+noon from his hard day’s work. I have seen
+the sweet child run and dip up a gourd of water
+from the bucket at the well, and carry to such a
+one, looking up so reverentially in his face, as
+though old age, toil, and suffering in any form,
+awoke her veneration. She is delicate and sensitive,
+too; she cannot bear the least unkind
+word or look; nor the least excess of cold or
+heat. This susceptible temperament, I think it
+is, that gives her such warm sympathies.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Captain Wilde was looking up with ardent
+admiration into the eloquent face of Sophie.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Ah, I see,” she continued, “that you admire
+her; and you will love her, oh! so much; your
+soul will go forth and bathe her with love as
+mine does. Oh, your soul will warm over her,
+glow over her, live around her. Your life will
+brighten into refulgence for loving Rosalia. Ah,
+yes! I see you will love her—you do love her.
+I see it in your speaking face.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“My own dear Sophie! I love you—<em>you</em>—my
+life brightens into refulgence in the light of
+<em>your</em> love—<em>yours</em>, my Sophie, of the loving heart
+and eloquent lip.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“People have blamed me for loving Rosalia,
+but how can I help it? You will see how impossible
+it will be.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, my beautiful Sophie (how radiant
+your face becomes in the praise of one you love),
+my beautiful Sophie! what has this little Rosalia
+to do with the postponement of our union?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Merely this—Rosalia is my ward. She is
+now daily expected. If she should not arrive
+to-day, or to-morrow, I could not leave the
+neighborhood finally, of course, without seeing
+her—being assured of her safety—indeed, I
+should not like to leave her with Hagar?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hagar is dangerous to one so tender as
+Rosalia. Would you put a dove in the guardianship
+of a young eagle? Hagar has a fine, high
+spirit—she would go through fire or flood to
+serve one she loved—but, mark you! she would
+cast that one she loved back into fire or flood
+if they should offend her. Therefore, with your
+consent, dear Augustus, I should wish to await
+Rosalia here, and take her with us to Boston.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Captain Wilde left her side and walked up and
+down the grapery for awhile. Then coming to
+her, he said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I will write to the Department to-night for
+an extension of my leave of absence, Sophie.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Will you? Oh! will you? I shall be so
+glad! Of course you will get it?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Probably—yes; still these favors should be
+charily solicited, Sophie.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I suppose so—well, if you do—I was about
+to say that we shall have the company of Hagar
+and Raymond, as well as that of Rosalia, on our
+journey. Raymond is appointed assistant professor
+at —— College, and they leave here in
+ten days.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Will not that be very agreeable?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I do not know, my dearest; I think I prefer
+your undivided company. So, Hagar and Raymond
+are going North?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And what is to be done with Heath Hall?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“It <em>was</em> to have been the residence of Rosalia
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_82'>82</span>and myself; now, I suppose, it is to be shut up
+and left so. We do not like to sell it. Indeed,
+it would bring but little; and some of us may
+like to come back some time to live in it. However!
+you know it will depend entirely upon the
+will of Raymond, for the property is now his, in
+right of his wife.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>They had arisen now from their seats, and
+were sauntering slowly towards the house. The
+evening was beautiful, and the house was
+crowded, and spilling its company all over the
+piazza and yards. They separated and mingled
+with the guests. Once in her meandering about,
+Sophie felt herself enfolded by a pair of gentle
+arms and pressed to a soft, warm bosom.
+She was in Emily’s embrace—who stooped and
+murmured in her ear, “My sister! my sweet
+sister at last!” and let her go. Next she met
+Hagar’s wildly glancing eyes with a “Who’d
+have thought it?” sort of smile on her crimson
+lip, and then her hand was raised by Raymond
+and softly pressed to his lips, while his gentle
+eyes revealed the heartfelt congratulations it
+was yet premature to speak. And at last she
+rejoined Captain Wilde just as Hagar was giving
+him a pressing invitation to breakfast and dine
+at Heath Hall the next day, and just as he
+smiled and bowed acceptance.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XXII.</h2>
+</div>
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“She is all simplicity,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>A creature meek and mild,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Though on the eve of womanhood</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>In heart a very child.</div>
+      <div class='line'>She dwells among us like a star,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>That from its bower of bliss,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Looks down, yet gathers not a stain</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>From aught it sees in this.”</div>
+      <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>Mrs. Welby.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>There was going to be another great day at
+Heath Hall; a breakfast, dinner, and ball.
+Such was Hagar’s will, and of course no one
+thought of opposing a bride in her honey-moon.
+Only old Cumbo swore in her wrath that before
+she would stay and cook for another such a
+“weddin’,” she would be “sold to Georgy;”
+which, in negro thought and dialect, expresses
+the very extremity of perdition. It was a great
+day at Heath Hall; the breakfast-table was set
+out under the shade between the rows of poplar
+trees, and it was loaded with the delicacies of
+the season, the peculiar delicacies of that favored
+neighborhood, game killed the day before, fresh
+fish, oysters, and soft crabs, caught that morning,
+&#38;c., &#38;c., &#38;c. All the county, and—Captain
+Wilde were there, and after breakfast
+the company dispersed, and wandered over the
+house or grounds, or rowed out upon the bay at
+will.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar, Raymond, Sophie, and Captain Wilde
+were grouped upon the point of the promontory.
+The captain occasionally swept the whole expanse
+of the bay within range of the telescope
+he held to his eye, and dropped it with a sigh
+and a shake of the head. There was no sail in
+sight.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Have they not written to you, Mrs.
+Withers?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No,” said Sophie, “not since Gusty left—we
+did not expect <em>that</em>; we expected them to
+hurry home with all possible expedition; oh, I
+grow so uneasy.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Nay, do not be anxious, Sophie,” exclaimed
+Hagar, “if anything had happened you know
+that Gusty would have written.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But I have been so fearful ever since that
+wreck,” sighed Sophie, paling.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“That is one reason why <em>I</em> am <em>not</em> anxious,”
+said Hagar. “We have just had a wreck—such
+things do not occur frequently; that wreck
+will do for the next three or four years.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>While she spoke, Tarquinius Superbus was
+seen strutting up the promontory from the hall;
+he came up to Sophie, and ducking his head by
+way of a salutation, said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Mrs. Widders, madam, dere is an ’rival at
+de Hall, and Mrs. Buncombe, she ’quests you to
+come down.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“An arrival—have they breakfasted—who is
+it? Mrs. Green!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“It is Miss Aguilar and Mr. May, madam!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Rosalia and Gusty! why did you not say so
+before, you stupid fellow!” exclaimed Hagar,
+“how could they have come, Sophie? They
+must have dropped from the sky. How did they
+come, Tarquin?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“In de poshay, Miss Rose, she ’fraid o’
+water.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Ah, that was it,” said Hagar, “I knew it
+was some of Rosalia’s cowardice and selfishness
+that has given you all this uneasiness,
+Sophie!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>But Sophie was hurrying on, too happy to
+speak, far too happy.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>They reached the Hall.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Where is Rosalia? Where is she?” inquired
+Sophie, anxiously hurrying along in front
+of her party.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“In her chamber, changing her travelling
+dress—go to her—I will attend her,” said Emily,
+as, at the same moment starting from her side,
+Gusty May sprang forward with strange gaiety
+in his manner, considering what we know of his
+then recent love-crosses, and grasped Sophie’s
+hand, and then Hagar’s, and then Raymond’s,
+and then Captain Wilde’s, shaking them all emphatically,
+joyously, as asking after everybody’s
+health, and explaining that he and Miss Aguilar
+had had a delightful overland journey in a post-chaise,
+because Rosalia was afraid of the water,
+&#38;c., &#38;c.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie passed on up stairs, and Hagar was
+about to follow her, when Emily laid her hand
+on her shoulder, and murmured close to her
+ear—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Do not both of you leave your guests at the
+same time again, Hagar; you should remember
+the punctilious etiquette exacted by Mrs. Gardiner
+Green, and others present.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The spring of Hagar’s upper lip started as the
+spring of her foot was arrested; and with a
+“Mrs. Gardiner Green,” repeated in no very reverential
+tone, she stood still, especially as Raymond’s
+hand very softly fell upon her own just
+then.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie passed up stairs, and opened the door
+of Rosalia’s chamber, catching for a single instant
+a glimpse of this beautiful picture. The
+lovely girl reposed in a large, easy chair; her
+pale gold wavy hair, parted above her fair brow
+floated down her blue-veined temples, down her
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_83'>83</span>faint rose-tinted cheeks, down the tender undulations
+of her dove-like throat and bosom, and
+flowed upon the soft, white muslin that covered
+her form. As the door opened and Sophie flew
+towards her, she arose and dropped in her embrace;
+the gentle arms were around Sophie’s
+neck, the golden hair overflowing her, her soft
+form folded to her bosom, the warm heart throbbing
+against her heart, the warm lips pressed to
+her lips, and tears of joy slowly falling.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“My love, my baby, my dove-eyed darling,
+welcome! welcome!” sobbed Sophie, pressing
+her again and again to her bosom. “Oh! is it
+possible that now I shall have you always with
+me, to see you as much as I please, to love you
+as much as I please, to kiss you! oh! my dove!
+my beauty! as often as I <em>must</em>. How have you
+been, Rose? how do you feel, Rose? are you
+well? are you much tired? what will you have,
+Rose? Come to the window and let me take a
+good look at you;” and Sophie drew her to
+the window, held her off and gazed upon her
+beauty as though she could have quaffed it up,
+and opening her arms, folded her again in an
+embrace, murmuring “oh! my child, my nursling,
+you are <em>so</em> fair. Look at me, Rose; look
+at me, my darling! bless those dove eyes, with
+their brooding tenderness!” Then she sat down
+on the lounge, and drawing Rose to her side,
+passed her arms around her waist and said, looking
+down in her face lovingly, “I am going to
+be married soon, Rosalia; to be married to one
+whom I love, and who loves me above all
+things.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Rosalia’s eyes started, dilated, and then softened
+as she murmured, “And he loves you?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And you love him?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, darling.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Rose stole her hands up around Sophie’s, and
+kissed her, exclaiming softly,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! I am so glad, so glad, Sophie, dear
+Sophie!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>They were both silent, because Rose was bending
+forward before her, holding both her hands
+and gazing lovingly up into her face. At last
+she inquired,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And is he gentle and kind—in a word, is he
+<em>good</em>!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Very good, my little love.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And handsome?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie smilingly replied, “I think so, darling.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Is he young?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, <em>yes</em>!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“How young?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Thirty!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, that is <em>old</em>.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why, no it is not, darling—except in the estimation
+of ‘sweet sixteen.’”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And Hagar is married—how funny!—and—how
+<em>serious</em>. What makes me feel so differently
+about your marriage and about Hagar’s, Sophie?
+Your marriage—the idea of it fills me with still
+religious joy, like <em>church</em> music swelling from
+the deep-toned organ, echoing through the lofty
+arches and filling one’s soul full of love and awe,
+tempered by faith. But Hagar’s marriage affects
+me like martial music that attends the troops in
+their embarkation—inspiring, animating, but sad,
+but painful. Now, why is this, why does my
+heart fill and overflow my eyes, when I think of
+Hagar’s being a wife; surely it is a happy destiny;
+and why, tell me why, when I kneel down
+night and morning to say my prayers, it comes
+into my head to pray <em>so earnestly</em> for Hagar’s
+happiness—why do I weep now that Hagar is a
+happy bride? she is a <em>happy</em> bride, is she not?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Just as happy as <em>Hagar</em> is capable of being,
+my love.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“As happy as you are?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“She should be.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Then why do I feel so?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I do not know, my love; possibly you feel
+that Hagar is too wild to make a quiet wife, too
+fierce to make a loving one, and too self-willed
+to become a complying one; while on the other
+hand you rest in the assurance that I am sober
+and common-place enough to make a quiet fireside
+comfortable.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, that is not it, I never studied that much
+in my whole life. But how do you feel about it,
+Sophie?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“My love, I had some of your forebodings,
+but I had a better reason than instinct for them,
+and now they are about dissipated. Hagar is
+naturally wild, fierce, self-willed, and scornful—but
+she has the very companion I should have
+selected for her happiness. Raymond is wise,
+gentle, and firm, or he impresses me in that way.
+You have never seen Raymond?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, no! you know, never. Is he like
+uncle?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“The very opposite in many things.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“There! dear Sophie, now please send Hagar
+to me. I want to see Hagar so much—but
+stay! perhaps Hagar might think I ought to go to
+<em>her</em>; she is so proud. But tell her, Sophie, that
+I am not dressed yet, and that I want so much
+for her to hug and kiss me here, before I go
+down to all those strangers.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>And Sophie pressed her hands and withdrew
+from the room.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Soon after the door was thrown quickly open,
+and Hagar sprang upon her cousin’s neck, half
+cutting her soft shoulders in the wire-like embrace
+of her slender arms, while the dark brow
+bent over the fair one, the blue-black ringlets
+glittered over the pale golden hair, and the deep
+carnation cheek met the pale, rose-tinted face an
+instant, and then she was released.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“So, Hagar, you are married! dear me, how
+queer! is it not? Why, Hagar, you don’t look
+at all different, not a bit like a married woman.”
+And Rose got up and stood by her, and took
+her hand affectionately and looked up merrily in
+her face, “dear me, no! not at all like a married
+woman; Mrs. Withers! goodness! do they
+call you ‘Mrs. Withers,’ Hagar? and do you
+always remember to answer to that name—and
+how do you like being married, sure enough,
+Hagar—Mrs. Withers, I mean? Don’t turn
+your head away and crimson and darken so,
+while scorn and mirth gleam and flash from
+under your eye-lashes and upper lip; and don’t
+laugh—don’t <em>you</em> laugh if I do; it is no laughing
+matter; I feel it so most of the time when I
+think of it. Oh, Hagar, my only sister that I
+ever knew, I do pray for your happiness morning
+and evening!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Thank you.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Now tell me about Raymond, he is young,
+handsome, graceful, accomplished, and all that;
+but tell me, is he <em>gentle</em>?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Gentle!</em> why do you ask, Rosalia? <em>Gentle!</em>
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_84'>84</span>I gave him my hand—that is your fit answer,
+dear.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, I know—I asked because—I may say
+it to you without blame now, Hagar—because
+his <em>father</em> was not gentle, you know—and—and
+we sometimes love those who are not gentle
+with us, Hagar,” and her soft eyes were suffused.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes,” exclaimed Hagar, “and then there is
+even in seeming gentleness, sometimes gentle
+strength, gentle force, gentle firmness, more irresistible,
+more inevitably enslaving, than rudeness,
+roughness, violence could be,” and the dark
+girl’s soul half gleamed from her countenance
+like a dagger half-drawn from its sheath.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What do you mean, Hagar—dear Hagar,
+what do you mean?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Nothing! I mean that it is time for you to
+dress and come down—and I mean that you
+must not ask me any more questions. Come,
+let me be your dressing-maid for once, and—but
+no matter, I fear I should make a failure in the
+essay,” and taking up a hand-bell, she rang it at
+the door. A negro girl came in, and with her
+assistance the toilet of Rosalia was soon made.
+Her golden hair was arranged in ringlets; her
+dress was a light blue silk; her fair neck and
+arms were bare, and adorned with a pearl necklace
+and bracelets. Hagar wore a black lace
+dress. Now, as Hagar clasped the last bracelet
+on her arm (she did that for her), standing with
+her before the mirror, nothing could have been
+more unlike in feminine beauty than these two
+girls. Hagar, so small, straight, dark, and sparkling—Rosalia
+so fair, soft, and gentle.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Come, now, let us go down into the drawing-room,
+Rose.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But see here, dear Hagar, I must go in the
+kitchen, and see Aunt<a id='r6'></a><a href='#f6' class='c012'><sup>[6]</sup></a> Cumbo first; I know
+she wants to see me so much, so do I her.”</p>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f6'>
+<p class='c008'><a href='#r6'>6</a>. In the country parts of Maryland and Virginia, the
+children and young people usually call the old negroes
+“Aunt” or “Uncle.” Further south, “Mammy,” or
+“Daddy” so and so.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But, my dear—”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, but <em>please</em> let me, dear Hagar; for poor
+old Cumbo, you know, we must not slight her,
+because she is old and—no, we must not slight
+her;” and looking pleadingly at Hagar she
+passed out slowly before her, and stole down the
+back stairs. Hagar followed her. They went
+through an end door, and making a circuit to
+avoid meeting any one, reached the kitchen.
+The old woman was busy, and grumbling over
+her culinary operations before the fire, as Rose
+stood in her blooming loveliness in the door.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Aunt Cumbo, how do you do?” said she,
+approaching. At the sound of her voice the old
+woman dropped ladle and pan, and turning
+around, gazed at her through bleared eyes.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, Aunt Cumbo, don’t you know me?
+It’s me—Rose,” said she, going and taking the
+black old withered hand in her own.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, it’s my baby! it’s my baby! it’s my
+sweet, lovely baby come back to its old mammy
+again!” and the old creature fell weeping over
+her shoulders.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, Rose, shake her off—don’t you see she
+is ruining your dress.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, no! would you hurt her poor old feelings
+about a dress? her poor old feelings!” said
+Rose, raising her hands and stroking her withered
+cheeks, and looking kindly into the dim face.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“My baby! Oh, de little soft cotton wool
+hands!—bress Gor A’mighty for lettin’ old nigger
+lib to see her baby once more ‘fore she go—see
+if old mammy ain’t got anoder biscuit in her
+bosom for it—no, dey ain’t bake yet; nebber
+min’ she’ll save one, and you set down dere, on
+dat ‘tool, while mammy roas’ a sweet tatoe for
+you;” and the old creature put her gently down
+on a stool, and went to rummaging under an old
+locker. Again Rose’s eyes were full of tears,
+and she said in a low tone to Hagar—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“She is in her second childhood, Hagar; you
+did not prepare her for this; poor old human
+being; nothing at all left of her but the loving
+heart. They tell me that it is the first thing that
+lives, and the last that dies.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You had better look at your dress.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“How can she do her work?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Mechanically—we do not wish her to work;
+but I believe she would die if she had not the
+privilege of cooking and grumbling; and Rose,
+don’t be a fool—she is well enough; you know
+it is so with all these Guinea negroes; they have
+such tenacity of vitality, that their strength of
+body outlives for years the decay of their mental
+faculties; besides, she is seldom so confused as
+this. Your sudden arrival has startled her, and
+jostled past and present together in her apprehension;
+but come now, Rosalia, you must
+come into the house;” and Rosalia went up to
+the fire and said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Aunty!—mammy!—you will let me go into
+the parlor with the other ladies; you know—”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But, honey, de tatoe ain’t roas’ yet!” replied
+the old woman, as she raked the ashes over the
+sweet root.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, aunty, when the potatoe is done you
+send Tarquinius for me, and I’ll come out here
+and eat it.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, honey! yes, my baby! and when you
+go in house you jes speak to Miss Sophie ’bout
+’Quinius ’Perbus; he too much mun—don’t min’
+nuffin ‘tall I say, till I have to switch him some
+ob dese days; you min’ now.” And they left
+the kitchen.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Rosalia Aguilar had come home to no very
+near relations, to no mother, father, sister, or
+brother; yet never did <a id='t84'></a>any child returning to
+idolizing parents meet with a more tender and
+enthusiastic reception, from Sophie down to old
+Cumbo, and thence down to the cat that ran
+between her feet, crossing before them, rubbing
+her sides against them, and impeding her steps
+as she walked into the drawing-room. A low
+murmur of irrepressible admiration saluted her
+as she entered—old friends then crowded around,
+and new acquaintances were introduced to her,
+and it was half an hour before the beauty and
+the pet was left in quiet possession of her
+sofa. Sophie sat on one side of her, Captain
+Wilde on the other. At this moment Raymond
+Withers entered the room bowing and smiling,
+and passing up to Hagar, who stood by one of
+the open windows, he said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Which is your cousin?—I have not been
+introduced to her yet.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Have you not?—I will present you, then,—but
+first,” said Hagar, covertly watching his
+countenance, “look at her and tell me what you
+think of her. There, now you have a good
+opportunity of observing her without attracting
+her notice; there she is, seated between
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_85'>85</span>Sophie and Captain Wilde, talking with the
+latter.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Raymond’s eyes followed the indication of her
+glance. Rosalia’s form was slightly bent
+towards Captain Wilde, and her face was softening
+and glowing under the inspiration of their
+conversation. Raymond slightly started—his
+gaze became fixed—absorbed—Hagar’s eyes
+burned into his countenance, but he did not feel it.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well,” at last she said, “what do you think
+of her?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He did not reply—his eyes were riveted upon
+the group on the sofa. Hagar’s eyes were fixed
+on his face—her lips compressed until the blood
+left them pale.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well,” she said, again, speaking very slowly
+and distinctly, “what do you think of Rosalia?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He did not seem to hear her; his soul was
+absorbed. Now all the fire seemed to have left
+Hagar’s lips and cheeks, and to be concentrated
+in the intensely glowing eyes that burned into
+the face of her husband, and he did not feel it!</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>At last a motion, a change of attitude, a raising
+of Rosalia’s eyes, dissolved the spell, and he
+turned to Hagar.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well,” said she, with pale lips, “how do you
+like her?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“She is beautiful! beautiful! the most perfectly
+beautiful living thing I ever saw. In all
+my dreams of beauty, I never saw a vision of
+loveliness like that! Do but see, Hagar!—the
+heavenly love and tenderness in her air and
+manner; one looking at her, fears that she may
+fade into air like a vision of poetry.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Shall I take you up and present you?” she
+asked, in a low voice.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He might have observed—<em>must</em> have observed,
+the painful constraint of her manner, but that his
+attention was so concentrated.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Shall I take you up and present you?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, no, love! not yet—I wish to observe
+her from this point a little longer.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She bit her lips until the blood started—her
+eyes seemed drawn inwards in their intense
+burning.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, then, will you excuse me, Raymond?
+I wish to leave the room.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, love! no! I cannot spare you—you
+have been away from me too long this morning
+already,” and he closed his hand firmly upon
+hers, while he still poured his gaze upon the sofa
+group.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>At last she spoke again—“Raymond,” and
+pressed his hand to call his attention,—“<em>Raymond!</em>”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, love!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She spoke so low that he had to stoop to catch
+her words.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Do you not think that if before our union
+you had seen Ro—”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Nothing—nothing—I had better not—see!
+they are looking over here—come! now let me
+introduce you.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He now first observed her pallor.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“It seems to me you do not look well to-day,
+Hagar.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She smiled bitterly.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Perhaps not—<em>to you!</em>” she added, mentally.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Are you not well?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why do you look so haggard, then?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>To you?</em> The force of contrast!—and your
+eyes are dazzled.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I must know what you mean, Hagar, but
+here we are,” he whispered, as they paused before
+the sofa.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar presented him, and Rosalia arose, in
+her simple, affectionate way, and offered her rosy
+cheek to the kiss of Raymond, as her relative.
+Captain Wilde, starting from his seat, exclaimed,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Come, Withers, I will do the magnanimous,
+although it costs some self-denial, I assure you,
+yet you shall have my place—come, Mrs.
+Withers, senior!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>And going round to Sophie he drew her arm
+through his own, and walked her away to the
+piazza, leaving her place to Hagar, who immediately
+assumed it.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Now!” said Sophie, her brown eyes dilated,
+blazing with light and joy, “what do you think
+of my Rose—is she not beautiful?—is she not
+sweet, blooming, fragrant?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Beautiful!—stop, Sophie! don’t set me off!—you
+know I am ‘gusty’ (<em>stormy</em>), when I get
+an imposing subject! Beautiful!—why she
+<em>radiates</em> beauty—no one can sit by her or talk
+with her without catching beauty! growing
+beautiful! Did you observe that poor old
+Gardiner Green, how, as he talked with her, all
+the latent goodness and gladness that were
+smouldering in the bottom of his heart, was
+kindled up and broke through his face, lighting
+up his winter-apple cheeks and black eye-brows
+until they glowed with beauty, as an autumn
+landscape glows in the sunbeams!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, you admire her; you love her; you are
+a poet!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“She has made me one!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I <em>knew</em> you would love her—still I am so
+glad to <em>feel</em> it.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Love her! dearest Sophie! I was prepared
+to love her for your sake; now I love her for her
+own!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And I <em>knew</em> you would, as I said, and now
+I rejoice to feel it; now, then, you feel the same
+pleasure that I do in the thought of having the
+sweet girl with us?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Have her with us! Yes, that is the best of
+it—we shall have her with us—by our fireside
+in winter, and about our piazza in summer, and
+all around us—so we can see her always, and
+caress her as much as we please, and love her
+as dearly, and make her beautiful being as happy
+as possible—have her with us—see here, Sophie,
+I am afraid I should be tempted to kick any
+fellow who should come courting her—yet of
+course it must come to that, and it will come
+very soon to that. Beauty and sensibility and
+susceptibility like hers will not long remain unwooed,
+unwed, in a naval station full of gay and
+romantic young officers; and even now I am
+afraid Hagar will be wanting her, and that
+Rosalia will prefer to go with the companion of
+her childhood—and that chap, Raymond, will
+take sides with them, and we shall lose the dear
+girl after all.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You need not be afraid of that. Hagar
+does not want her. Hagar loves no human
+being, neither man, woman, nor child, no one
+except Raymond. Hagar’s affections are very
+concentrative. She has never loved any creature
+but Raymond, and she has loved him
+intensely from childhood, and indeed I fear
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_86'>86</span>there is as much tyranny as tenderness in her
+affection for her husband.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! well! never mind them, Sophie; let
+them torture and transport each other in turn,
+as young lovers of their temperament must for a
+while; only let them leave this charming
+Rosalia to light our sober, quiet home. What
+are you laughing at, you partridge?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Thinking how very sober any home is going
+to be that calls such a boisterous fellow as you
+are, master.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Humph! but, Sophie, but it will be <em>you</em> that
+will make it quiet, my love! my dove! <em>you</em>,
+Sophie—come! does not my boisterousness subside
+into gentle joy by your side? Say, am I
+not quiet enough?—I can get quieter!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, don’t—I—I think—perhaps I like you
+all the more for being just what you are.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Are you really contented with me, Sophie?—I
+have been so much afraid, sometimes, that
+my ‘boisterousness’ should shock and alarm you—now
+does it, ever?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Never—never—it is never rude or violent,
+you know, Gusty, and it only lifts my own
+sober cheerfulness into agreeable gaiety.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>You do not care to hear all that was said by
+the partners in this “mutual admiration” firm—they
+walked and talked, as long as <em>you</em> walked
+and talked, with you remember whom—or as
+long as you <em>expect</em> to walk and talk with, perhaps
+you <em>do not</em> know whom. They did not
+return to the house until summoned to dinner.
+A large company sat down at table. A dancing
+party in the evening closed the day, and the
+guests dispersed.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XXIII.<br> <span class='c009'>THE BRIDE’S PARTING.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“From the home of childhood’s glee,</div>
+      <div class='line'>From the days of laughter free,</div>
+      <div class='line'>From the love of many years,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Thou art gone to cares and fears;</div>
+      <div class='line'>To another path and guide,</div>
+      <div class='line'>To a bosom yet untried!</div>
+      <div class='line'>Bright one, oh! there well may be</div>
+      <div class='line'>Trembling ’midst our joy for thee.”</div>
+      <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>Mrs. Hemans.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>“Mother! is not Rosalia to stay with you?”
+asked Gusty May, as he lingered over a late
+breakfast with his mother.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why, <em>no</em>, Gusty, certainly not! what put
+such a thing in your head?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why, mother, it came there naturally
+enough, as Rose lived with us many years before
+she went to school, and as you always seemed
+so fond of her, and she also seemed so necessary
+to you, I thought, of course, you would like to
+have her again.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But you know, my dear, <em>why</em> Rose lived
+with us; that reason no longer exists, and Rose
+goes with her natural guardians.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And, mother, who <em>are</em> her natural guardians?
+Two new brides, quite lost in the glory of their
+bridehood; have <em>they</em> thought or care for Rosalia?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Sophie has.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, but Sophie! Sophie is so innocent.
+Sophie is going to live—didn’t you know it? on
+board the store-ship.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Ship!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Lord bless you, <em>yes</em>, mother! aboard the
+store-ship uncle commands. There is an elegant
+cabin, furnished luxuriously as any city drawing-room,
+and far beyond anything you see down in
+this neighborhood. Well, as I was saying,
+Sophie will live there—now is that a desirable
+home for a young girl like Rosalia, among all
+those gay, young officers, with a chaperone no
+wider awake than Sophie is, with a guardian
+merry and wild as Uncle Gusty?—and I tell
+you, mother, those young officers are devils of
+fellows—you know I know them.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Emily fell into thought a moment, and then
+she said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Sophie is indeed very abstracted, and my
+brother, as you say, is wild; but then there is
+Hagar; I think that it were better she resided
+with Hagar.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What, mother, with Hagar! don’t you know
+that Raymond proposes to board the first year?
+and with the narrow salary of an under professor,
+will Raymond be able to take her? Besides,
+a girl dependent, as she is, should be made
+to feel that she has quite a choice of homes, that
+many hearts and doors are ready to fly open to
+her.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You know that I should love to have her
+with me, Gusty. I will invite her, press her to
+come. I do not think, however, that either
+Sophie or my brother will be willing to resign
+her.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Thank you, dear mother! thank you!” exclaimed
+Gusty, jumping up and kissing her, “oh!
+thank you—‘willing!’ no, I don’t indeed suppose
+they will be willing to resign her—who <em>could</em>,
+in fact? nevertheless, we must try to overrule
+them.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You run quite enthusiastic upon the subject,
+Master Gusty!” exclaimed Emily, looking at
+him attentively.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Enthusiastic, mother! Gracious Heavens,
+mother! one must be cold, dead, yes, a <em>corpse</em>—a
+corpse! I mean a <em>statue</em>—one must never
+have <em>had</em> life—a statue! I should rather have
+said a <em>block of marble</em>—one must never have
+had <em>form</em> not to be inspired with enthusiasm by
+that girl—that seraph!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hey! Master Gusty! have you fallen in love
+with Rosalia?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Speak low, mother! Oh! breathe her name
+in flute-like tones—for, mother! when I speak
+of enthusiasm, I mean the rapt enthusiasm of the
+adoring saint for his guardian angel! the silent
+enthusiasm with bended knees, clasped hands,
+and upraised eyes, mother!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Humph! not the enthusiasm for instance that
+Hagar inspired some weeks ago—a passion that
+was going to compel you to send the planets
+whirling against each other!” archly smiled
+Emily.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Mother, no more of that ‘an you love me.’”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“So you have got over your phrensy for
+Hagar?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why, mother,—<em>of course</em>,” said Gusty,
+assuming a look of shocked propriety, “<em>of course</em>—you
+did not suppose I was going to keep on
+loving her <em>now</em>, did you?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I should hope not, certainly; and I am glad
+your lips confirm my hope.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_87'>87</span>“I am a man of honor, mother!” said Gusty,
+dilating.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Certainly you are, my love! I am very sure
+of that—nevertheless, Master Gusty, I cannot
+really give you credit for the exertion of
+any great moral power in this affair. I think
+that your passion has been conquered as the
+Indians conquer danger when pursued by the
+flames of a burning prairie—fire by fire—love
+by love.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Stop, mother! be just—despair and conscience
+did much for me even before I left
+her.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And yet that was a great infatuation of
+yours, and now here is another quite as great—I
+am afraid you are fickle, Gusty! Have you
+really quite ceased to regret Hagar?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Quite, mother.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And care nothing at all about her?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! stop—<em>yes</em>, I care a great deal about
+her in—in a brotherly way, you understand! in
+fact, just as I always <em>did</em>, until I had to go mad
+about her, you know. Care about Hagar? yes!
+I guess I do! Let any fellow crook his finger
+at Hagar, and see if he don’t get his neck
+twisted, that’s all? It is singular that I should
+have got into such a delirium, is it not, though?
+and more singular that I should have got out of
+it—don’t you think so, mother?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, indeed—it is perfectly natural—the
+‘harder it storms the sooner it is over’ is an
+acknowledged atmospherical fact, and by all that
+ever I have seen, it is as true of passionate as it
+is of atmospheric storms. I hope that you will
+never marry during the raging of any phrensy
+of passion—for, if you do, you will be very apt
+to make yourself and another miserable for the
+rest of your lives.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You may well call it a phrensy—a storm,
+mother! Gracious Heavens! yes! That intoxicating
+Hagar! I used to reel away from
+her whirling, spinning, tipsy! That electric
+Hagar! she would flash into my soul blaze after
+blaze, like the lightning of a dark, tempestuous
+night, dazzling, blinding, stunning me!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And this other?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>And this other</em>—oh! stop, mother; put a
+long pause between <em>that</em> and—‘this other,’ and
+sink your voice low, like you were whispering
+in a church—this other dawns on my soul like a
+soft, rosy morn, faintly, gently, sweetly, and
+bright and brightening! Hagar broke the silence
+of my heart as with a laugh, a shout, a whoop,
+a halloa! ‘This other’ <em>steals</em> upon the ear like
+a soft note of music, rising and swelling into
+harmony and volume!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“My poet!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, mother, not your <em>poet</em>; I feel more like
+your <em>apostle</em>—I feel when I think of her more
+like saying my prayers—I feel while sitting by
+her as if I were doing a meritorious thing; my
+heart is hushed into a holy content and calm,
+such as one feels when taking a seat in the
+church while the organ is pealing ‘gloria in
+excelsis,’ or the preacher is reading ‘The Lord
+is in His holy temple—let all the earth keep silence
+before Him.’”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Do not be irreverent, Gusty.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, I am not, mother; indeed, so far from
+it, that I never thought of the Lord so much,
+worshipped the Lord so much, felt the Lord’s
+presence in all the beautiful sights and sounds of
+nature so much, as during that heavenly journey
+with Rosalia. Let me tell you about it, mother—good,
+best mother, you know I tell you
+everything—always did ever since I was a boy.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Everything, Gusty?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, yes—that is—<em>almost</em> everything.
+Well, you know after I set out from here, I tried
+not to think of Hagar, but the more I struggled
+with the image, the more intensely I thought of
+her.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Of course; you should have <em>fled</em> from the
+subject, fixed your attention on something else—never
+let your thoughts struggle with a sinful
+subject—fly from it.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes. Well, I was a little shy of meeting
+Rose—she always <em>was</em> delicate, sensitive, and
+refined—and I thought two years in a boarding-school
+had educated and refined her tastes and
+manners up to the highest fine lady standard.
+Well, when I got to Boston, and when I reached
+the outskirts of the town, and when I passed the
+gate in front of Mrs. Tresham’s marble and
+stuccoed mansion, I felt embarrassed. I had to
+recollect that I was an officer in the United
+States Navy, mother! I had to turn all the way
+back to my hotel, wait half a day to get a card
+engraved, put on my best new uniform, get a
+pair of lavender-colored gloves, and a cambric
+handkerchief—throw myself into a carriage and
+ride there (I had walked before), and all for fear
+Miss Aguilar should think me rough, countryfied.
+Well, I made coachee get down and ring
+the bell, take in my card, ‘Augustus W. May,
+U. S. N.’ Come, I thought, that would do—that
+was going it <em>en grand seignior</em>. Presently
+I alighted, and was shown into the parlor. Magnificent,
+mother! precisely like a wealthy merchant’s
+drawing-room; and while I was waiting
+there—sitting on a fine crimson velvet seat, lolling
+back with one arm grandly thrown over the
+back of the chair, throwing back my shoulders,
+expanding my chest; in fact, enlarging and dilating
+generally and sublimely! telling myself
+all the time that I was Aug. W. May, U. S. N.,—the
+door swung noiselessly open, and a tall
+lady, in stiff black satin and a turban, entered,
+followed by a lovely girl, with golden ringlets
+flashing down upon her light blue silk dress.
+While I arose and was flourishing my grandest
+bow, and the lady elaborating her profoundest
+curtsey, Rosalia, the dear girl! floated towards
+me, holding out her dear white arms, and warbling,
+‘Gusty, Gusty!’ just as when she was a
+baby, and I a lad. I forgot that I was Aug. W.
+May, U. S. N. I forgot Madam Tresham—and
+Gusty Wilde started—sprang—clasped Rosy in
+his arms, to his bosom, and kissed her eyes, and
+nose, and mouth, while the room spun round for
+joy! and he was just about to whirl Rosy all
+around the room in a reel, when he was arrested
+by the sight of her Royal Highness, Madam
+Tresham, sinking superbly into a chair, elevating
+her double chin with slow haughtiness; then he
+dropped Rose, and blushed, and bowed and sat
+down.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘Your <em>brother</em>, of course, I presume, Miss
+Aguilar?’ she said, elevating her chin sublimely.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Now, she <em>knew</em> better, of course she did;
+she said that out of an air.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“In rebuke, Gusty, and she was right; you
+behaved indecorously.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“See here, mother, can I help it? When my
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_88'>88</span>blood gives one jump from my heart to the top
+of my head and the tips of my fingers!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, what did Rosalia reply?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“She said, ‘Oh, no, dear madam, he is not
+my brother; but we were brought up together,’
+and the old lady said ‘Ah!’ and then I handed
+my credentials, Sophie’s letter requesting the
+presence of Miss Aguilar. I swear madam did
+not seem inclined to comply! however, next
+day we set off by stage for New York, because
+Rose was afraid of water, and we travelled by
+coach as far as Baltimore, and then, as no stage
+runs this route, we were obliged to take a chaise,
+and oh! was not that a delightful journey,—a
+glimpse of Heaven, mother! a specimen of life
+in Paradise, those three days’ journey in the
+chaise! I and Rose alone; the dear girl, how
+many times she would get out to rest the horse
+and walk by my side while I led him up the
+hill! Now, mother, don’t forget; you’ll invite
+Rose, won’t you?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Of course.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You love Rose, don’t you?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, as a daughter.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And you would take her for a daughter,
+wouldn’t you?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Most willingly.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“That’s you, mother.”</p>
+
+<hr class='c013'>
+
+<p class='c008'>Rosalia was in demand. That same morning
+Raymond Withers stood by the mantel-piece,
+his elbow resting upon the top, his head leaned
+upon his hand, his eyes bent down upon the
+slight figure of Hagar, whom he held in a half
+embrace with the other arm.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hagar, love,” he said, in his flute-like tones.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, Raymond!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What disposition is to be made of your
+cousin?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Rosalia?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Of course, Rosalia.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“She is to reside with Captain Wilde and
+Sophie.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I want you to invite her to accompany us—to
+live with us, in fact,—to make one of our
+family.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar was silent.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, Hagar?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She did not reply.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Will you invite her to-day, Hagar? we
+have but a few days left, and the child should
+know where she is going. Invite her to-day,
+Hagar—now!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar’s eyes were rooted to the rug.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You do not reply, Hagar: perhaps you
+would rather <em>I</em> should speak to her myself, and
+yet methinks it would beseem <em>you</em> more; shall
+I invite Rosalia, or you?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Just as you please.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Then you speak to her, and let me know her
+decision, will you?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“When?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“At the first opportunity.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You speak coldly, I had almost said sullenly,
+Hagar. Do you not like this plan?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Do not press me for a reason, Raymond;
+why should <em>you</em> be so anxious for Rosalia to become
+an inmate of our family?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“First, because it is only common kindness to
+a young relative who is depending upon some of
+us to offer her a home; and secondly, because I
+am very much pleased with Rosalia, and think
+that she will be quite an acquisition to our fireside.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Her hand was in his as she stood by his side;
+but her forehead was bent forward against the
+lower part of the chimney-piece, so that her long,
+extremely long blue-black ringlets hung down
+below her stomacher, like a veil concealing her
+face, hiding the corrugating brow, gleaming
+eyes, flushed cheek, and quivering lips.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Miss Aguilar is not dependent for a home—her
+father left her a small property.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I do not say and did not mean that she was
+dependent for a roof to shelter her fair head, or a
+board to sit at, but if she has ever such a fortune
+she is a young, delicate, sensitive girl, and she <em>is</em>
+dependent on some of us for a <em>home</em>, for kindness,
+tenderness, affection.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“She has all that, or will have all that with
+Sophie and Captain Wilde.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Nevertheless let her feel that she is encompassed
+with affection—poor girl, she has no <em>parents</em>,
+let her feel that she has <em>friends</em>.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar was again silent. Then he spoke.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What is your objection to our plan?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“We are going to board, as I understand, and
+so we have after all no home of our own to offer
+her.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But we are <em>not</em> going to board—I have
+changed my plan.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Since when?” inquired Hagar, with a slightly
+sarcastic tone.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Since my tenant moved out of my house on
+the Hudson!” replied Raymond, coldly.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! I did not know you owned a house
+anywhere.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Probably <em>not</em>! you have no <em>means</em> of knowing—you
+have just learned <em>that</em> fact for the first
+time, as you will soon learn <em>others</em>, my love!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What others?” sneered Hagar.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No matter now—invite Rosalia to come
+with us as I requested you, my dear, will you?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, I will—Raymond.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, love?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You seem very much charmed with
+Rosalia!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I am—I could not tell you <em>how</em> much
+charmed with her—she is a seraph!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Raymond!” she spoke huskily now, “suppose
+you had met Rosalia before our marriage,
+even before our engagement?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Do you not think that you would have
+rather loved and wooed <em>her</em> than <em>me</em>—that you,
+even now, were we free, would prefer her?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Prefer her!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Prefer her to <em>me</em>—could you not love
+Rosalia better than Hagar?” said she, speaking
+with great rapidity. “She is fair, full formed.
+I am small, thin, and dark. She is soft, gentle,
+sensitive. I am wild, fierce, and proud, proud to
+every one but <em>you</em>, Raymond. She is tender. I
+am hard. She is graceful. I am rude. She is
+all that is lovely, fascinating in form, features,
+temper, and manners. I am all that is repellent
+in person, character, and deportment—every
+one loves her—all dislike me.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hagar.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Tell me, Raymond, have you not followed
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_89'>89</span>the stream in this general, this inevitable admiration
+and love?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hagar!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Have you not claimed my hand too hastily?
+Do you not now regret it, wishing that you had
+waited longer and looked further—lamenting
+that you had not seen Rosalia while you were
+yet disengaged?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Hagar!</em>”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You do not deny it! You only echo and
+re-echo, ‘Hagar!’ ‘Hagar.’ Yes, <em>Hagar</em>! that
+is my name, my fit name—what strange prophetic
+inspiration was it that made them drop
+my proper name of Agatha and call me
+‘Hagar?’ Alas! I might have known it, Raymond!
+Oh! did I not <em>beg</em> you to defer our
+marriage? Alas! what forebodings were mine!
+Truly coming events cast their shadows before!
+Oh! Raymond, I might have known—Rosalia
+has won in succession every heart from me—first
+Sophie’s, then Mr. Withers’s, the servants’,
+the neighbors’, Mrs. May’s, and lately, think of
+it! I <em>was</em> really glad of <em>that</em>, not knowing
+what an omen it was! lately, <em>Gusty’s</em>. A
+month ago Gusty was perfectly infatuated with
+my poor face, raved, talked of blowing his
+brains out. Well! two weeks ago he set out
+for Rosalia, met her again, brought her home,
+and now he raves more about Rosalia’s shoe or
+glove than he ever did about my whole being!
+And then! and then! oh! God, you, Raymond,
+<em>you</em>! If you could have seen yourself when I
+first pointed her out to you, as <em>I</em> saw you, drunk
+with her beauty!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Her blood was kindling in her veins, while
+her bosom heaved and set with the motion of
+the hidden fire that blazed and died and blazed
+upon her cheeks, as you have seen a red flame
+in the night rise and fall waved by the wind—while
+her eyes scintillated sparks.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I wish,” she said, “that as I am so much
+smaller, I were soft and weak like other women!
+that I had more lymph, and so could easily
+melt! could weep! I can <em>not</em>—I am <em>hard</em>—my
+muscles are like tempered <em>steel</em>—they imprison
+a strong grief that rages, burns, and rends, finding
+no escape, no vent, no expression! I wish
+that I could weep! could die! like other women.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>During all this rhapsody, Raymond had been
+looking down on her with the greatest calmness
+of attitude and expression—his head still supported
+by the arm that rested on the mantel-piece—his
+eyes quietly observing her. Now he
+took her hot and quivering hand and led her to
+the window—there were two chairs facing each
+other at this open window. He motioned her
+into one, dropping into the other himself—he
+took both of her hands into his own and gazed
+into her agonized countenance a minute, and
+then said:</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hagar! look me in the face, look me
+straight in the eyes, come!” and as she raised
+her eyes piercing with anguish to <em>his</em> eyes, there
+was a sedative influence emanating from his
+manner that acted upon her nerves, reducing her
+to quiet, she knew not how or wherefore. He
+held her hands thus, looking straight into her
+fascinated eyes thus for a few moments, and
+then his flute-like tones gently stole on the
+silence as he said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hagar! I love peace, quietude, repose,
+benign repose. I love low tones, soft footsteps,
+gentle manners, sweet smiles, and complying
+tempers around me, and I must have them—look
+straight in my eyes and see if you do not
+feel that I <em>will</em> have them? So, Hagar, no
+more of this tragic acting, if you please, my
+love.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Her eyes were fixed full on his, in a vague
+but painful surprise; she did not attempt yet to
+reply.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“It is this harmonious repose that charms me
+so in Rosalia.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Then why,” she murmured at last, “why
+were you ever attracted to one so every way
+opposite as myself?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Because you can be made every way better;
+one don’t want a character <em>all</em> cotton wool; a
+good steel spring that rebounds from pressure is
+not unpleasant in your organization. I like to
+know that there is a strength, force, energy in
+you when required, but I like it—<em>latent</em>—under
+perfect <em>command</em>—do you mark! and you are
+not, because you happen to have a whole magazine
+of artillery and ammunition, to fire and flame
+and blaze away at such a rate! <em>or in the least
+degree</em>; you must grow tame, my wild love.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“My peculiarities, then, are not altogether
+repulsive to you; you love me, despite of them
+all!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I love you <em>because</em> of them all, my Hagar;
+and—but <em>mind</em>!” and here his voice sank to a
+lower key and deeper tone than she had ever
+heard, and his gaze was steadily fixed on hers,
+“<em>You must place confidence in me</em>; that I demand!
+without that your love is worthless to
+me; mine to you. I love Rosalia, but not in
+the way you imagine, foolish girl. I would not
+marry her if I could. You spoke of my admiration
+of her last evening. I was ‘drunk’ with
+gazing on her beauty—a delicate word for a lady,
+by the way—never let me hear it from your lips
+again, Hagar! I was ‘entranced,’ &#38;c.—now
+observe, I will illustrate—last week you and I
+rode out together; it was a beautiful evening,
+and the sun was sinking like a world in flames,
+lighting up into flashing splendor half a hemisphere
+of crimson purple and gold sky, of blue
+water, and green hills and vales; and you,
+drawing rein upon the brink of a lofty cliff, gazed
+rapt upon the scene until your face was as a
+small mirror reflecting all the glow of the sunset—your
+soul seemed pouring from your eyes,
+until the sun sank behind a bank of clouds that
+lay like a low range of blue mountains immediately
+on the horizon, and then the spell that
+bound your revery was dissolved.” Oh! how
+intensely her eyes burned into <em>his</em> eyes while he
+spoke; he continued speaking slowly. “As
+you, upon the brow of the cliff gazed, gazed on
+the sun-set’s glory; so <em>I</em> gazed upon the young
+girl’s beauty!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Ah! ah!” said she, with wild energy, “but
+I was upon <em>the brow of the cliff</em>! the brink of
+destruction, where a single mis-step would have
+precipitated me into ruin; and I was pouring my
+soul out through my eyes, I was entranced
+until the glory was lost in clouds, the light
+in darkness. Alas! <em>wail</em> for your illustration,
+Raymond!” and suddenly springing from him
+she fled up the stairs to her eyrie. He stood
+looking after her a moment, and then followed
+her leisurely. He found her in an excited stillness,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_90'>90</span>gazing “too earnestly for seeing” out upon
+the bay. He went up to the window, and leaning
+his arm upon the flap of the escritoire, looked
+down at her, looked steadily at her—and spoke:</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hagar.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She started, turned, impatiently exclaiming,
+“Can I not escape your eye and voice anywhere,
+<em>anywhere</em>?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why <em>no</em>, love, of course not!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She was turning away—“Nay, pause. Hagar,
+how long have we been married?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I do not exactly know, and I do not want
+to calculate now; it seems to me much longer
+than it really is—a long, long time!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Something less than six weeks? Is not this
+a promising beginning?” Hagar suppressed a
+groan. He drew her away to a lounge, and they
+sat down. “Hagar, do you remember the night
+of our first meeting? when I was a youth and
+you an infant?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Do I not?</em>”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Your first words to me—it was at Sophie’s
+wedding party, you recollect—your first words
+to me formed a <em>jealous question</em>, and I knew
+that you were strong and fierce and jealous,
+though so little even for your years; and your
+first question was a <em>jealous</em> question.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You have a good memory.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I <em>have</em>! therefore do not store it with facts
+that will be likely to injure you in my estimation.
+Well, to go back to that evening—I loved
+the little, fierce child—it was piquant to see so
+much intense fire concentrated in so small a
+space. I felt that it would be interesting to subdue
+this fierceness into gentleness. I was called
+away from home; but I never forgot the
+interest she gave me. I returned, and the
+little girl had become a little woman—and
+was wilder, fiercer, more piquant than ever;
+she interested me, attracted me more than
+ever—and I wished to possess her—I do possess
+her. I wanted her for interest, amusement,
+occupation, use—not for <em>torture</em>! I wish her
+<i><span lang="fr">esprit malin</span></i> to stop just when and where it
+ceases to be <em>agreeable</em>—do you hear, love? For,
+Hagar, I have extremely keen nerves and senses;
+as most people of my complexion enjoy a moderate
+degree of any sort of pleasure thrillingly,
+but do not like to be shocked and stunned;
+things that would scarcely act upon a lower
+organization put me in pain. And now another
+picture, Hagar. Do you remember the monkey
+Augustus May brought you from sea, when you
+were a little girl? You kept it years until my
+return; you had educated it almost up to human
+intelligence; and showed it to me with so
+much pride and pleasure. I was so amused with
+its antics—not so much with what you had <em>taught</em>
+it as with its <em>own primal</em> nature, breaking
+through all. <em>Yes, look at me, Hagar!</em> keep
+your eye <em>so</em>—for I want you to read all in my
+<em>soul</em> that you find upon my <em>tongue</em>. You
+remember the day we stood upon the point of
+rocks between the river and bay, on the other
+side; you remember you had your monkey in
+your arms; you set it down, and I made it bound
+and bound for a chestnut, while we both laughed
+at its antics, until the thing, exasperated to anger,
+sprang upon my chest and set its teeth and claws
+into my flesh, and then! Ah! you grow pale,
+proud one! <em>what then, Hagar?</em>”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She answered, and spoke low and slowly, as
+though the words were drawn from her involuntarily.
+“You tore it from my bosom by the
+heels, and dashed its brains out on the rocks.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“It was an involuntary impulse, Hagar, deplored,
+perhaps, the moment after; nevertheless,
+Hagar, you monkey!” and here he smiled a
+strange smile,—“be as spirited, fiery, and piquant
+as you please, but never set your teeth and nails
+into my flesh <em>again</em>—and Hagar!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I want a mark of confidence from you. Invite
+Miss Aguilar to stay with us—do you hear?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘Yes,’ what is that? Yes you hear, or yes
+you will do it?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, I hear, and I will do it.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“This day?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He kissed her forehead, arose, and sauntered
+out of the room. And Hagar sprang upon her
+feet with a snap of her teeth, exclaiming,
+“Powers and principalities of darkness! is this
+I? is this I? What is this? am I bewitched,
+enslaved? I—<em>I</em>—<em>I</em>! pale, and tremble, and
+obey—<em>I</em>! Come, Hagar!” said she, to herself,
+“let us go to the glass and see if we have
+changed as much in person as we have in manner
+during the last ten minutes!” and she went
+to the glass and glared at herself. “Would I
+submit to this, if I did not love him, if I did not
+want him to love <em>me</em>? Raymond! oh! you
+who looked <em>so</em> gentle, so fair—who could think
+that under those golden lashes, in those soft eyes,
+lurked such spring lancets! And Rosalia!
+Was he sincere? or was he self-deceived? or
+perchance am I mistaken?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The dinner bell rang, and hastily arranging
+her dress, she descended the stairs and entered
+the dining-room. Raymond came forward to
+meet her, and led her to her seat at the table,
+whispering as he went,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Your cheek is flushed, love, and your ringlets
+a little dishevelled. I am sorry to see that;
+take time in future, love, even though you should
+keep people waiting a few minutes; take time to
+compose yourself and arrange your toilet.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>That afternoon Rosalia Aguilar had three distinct
+invitations to make her home under the
+room of three distinct friends. She gratefully
+declined two—that is Emily’s and Hagar’s, in
+favor of Captain Wilde and Sophie.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The next Sabbath, the whole family from
+Heath Hall attended divine service at the parish
+Church of the Ascension—Rev. Mr. Buncombe
+in the pulpit. It was to be the last Sunday of
+their stay. Mrs. Withers’s pew, in which sat
+Hagar, Raymond, Rosalia, Sophie, and Captain
+Wilde; and Mrs. Buncombe’s pew, occupied by
+herself and Gusty, were the two front pews of
+the middle aisle, immediately under the pulpit.
+After the morning service was over, the benediction
+pronounced, and the congregation had
+retired, the occupants of these front pews filed
+out, and placed themselves before the altar in
+the following order: Captain Wilde, with Sophie
+on his left hand, and next to her Rosalia; on his
+right hand, Gusty, while Emily, Hagar, and Raymond
+were grouped near. The preacher opened
+his book, and in the holy stillness of the empty
+church, commenced the marriage rites that were
+to unite for life Sophie and Augustus; he went
+on, finished them, the names of bride, bridegroom,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_91'>91</span>and attendants and witnesses were affixed
+to the register; kisses were given and received;
+heartfelt, low-toned congratulations breathed,
+and the little party slowly left the church, got
+into their saddles, and rode over to Heath Hall,
+where a small party were assembled to dinner.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Dear girls, have I given you love, courtship,
+and marriage enough in this and the last? Whatever
+you may think, there is “more truth than
+poetry” in the story I am telling you, and more
+sadness than either.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty rode by the side of Rosalia Aguilar—Rosalia
+was in one of her softest moods, and
+tears and smiles and blushes chased each other
+over her cheeks. She was thinking of “dearest
+Sophie,” and sympathizing with her happiness.
+Gusty was sighing like the wind in the main-sail.
+His mother’s invitation, backed by his own eloquence,
+had been inefficient in persuading Rosalia
+to remain in the neighborhood.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, dearest Gusty,” she had said, “I should
+love so much to have you all with me; it grieves
+me to part with any of you, but you know,
+Gusty, that I must mind what Sophie says, and
+Sophie says that I must go with <em>her</em>; besides,
+as I cannot stay with all, I prefer to stay with
+Sophie and with Captain Wilde, who loves me
+also.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“See here, Rosalia, I—I—I—”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Don’t cry, Gusty, don’t cry—I will write to
+you every week, and can’t you come and see
+me?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Cry!</em> am <em>I</em> crying?—it’s—it’s the wind
+blowing in my eyes that makes them water—pshaw!
+fiddle-de-dee! <em>me</em> cry, indeed!—but,
+Rosalia—stop—don’t ride so fast; let the folks
+get along before.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! because—because—because it will tire
+the <em>horse</em>, you know, poor fellow.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, will it?” said Rosalia, reining up, and
+falling into a walk.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, to be sure it will, walk him slow,—there!”
+and then he rode up close to the side
+of Rosalia, and said, “Rose, stop, little darling,”
+and she stopped, and turned her gentle face towards
+him. “Rose, look at me, darling,” and
+she looked straight in his face, with her large
+innocent eyes. “How do you like me, altogether,
+Rose?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! so much, so dearly, you <em>know</em> I do,
+Gusty!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Ah, my seraph!—but, Rose, could you <em>love</em>
+me?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Could I, Gusty? Why, I <em>do</em> love you
+dearly.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Then he sank his voice to a low whisper, and
+said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But, loving darling! you love <em>everybody</em>!—Raymond
+and Augustus included.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But I love you better than them, Gusty—oh,
+ever so much better. You know I have known
+you all my life, and never knew them until last
+week; so good as they are, dear Gusty, and
+much as I love them, I love <em>you</em> the most!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Love! love! love! Ah, my little angel, I
+am afraid you do not love me as I would have
+you. Do you love me well enough to <em>marry</em> me—now—soon?
+My pay is enough to support
+us, and mother has consented. Sophie has a
+good opinion of me, and—and—well! what do
+you say, my Rosalia?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She was smiling and blushing.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, Rosalia?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why, it would be too curious! too queer!
+so funny. Sophie would laugh at us, and all the
+girls would make fun of us. You know I am
+nothing but a child yet—but oh! I know you
+are only joking.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“As the Lord in heaven hears me speak, I
+never was more in earnest in my life.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! no, Gusty! not in earnest! I do hope
+not in earnest.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“As the Lord lives I am, Rosalia—come, Rosalia!
+I see you will not drive me to despair—you
+will give me your hand, and instead of
+going North, you will just cosily settle down
+here, with mother. Come, put your hand in
+mine, and I will take that for yes!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, I am sorry to vex you, Gusty; indeed
+I am, dear Gusty, but I can’t get married, it is
+too funny!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Do you not love me, then?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, indeed I do, Gusty.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You <em>love</em> me, dearest Rose?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, indeed I do, Gusty, the angels know I
+do!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Then why not marry me, my sweet love?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“So! Gusty, I had just as soon marry you as
+any one else, only I do not like to marry one—”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Good heavens!—oh, gracious Providence,
+<em>hear her</em>!—she had as lief have me as <em>anybody
+else</em>!” roared Gusty, striking spurs to his horse
+and making him bound in the air.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The girl grew pale, and hastily exclaimed,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, well! maybe if I was obliged to
+marry, I would <em>rather</em> have you than anybody.
+Oh! don’t scare me so, Gusty! you make me
+weak all over, and—and—I feel like falling
+from my saddle!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>And he saw, indeed, that his violence had
+nearly overwhelmed the delicate girl, who was
+trembling very much. He rode to her saddlebow,
+and said gently,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Rosalia, I beg your forgiveness; I have
+startled you by my rudeness; the fact is, Rosalia,
+I have been accustomed to Hagar, who, with
+reverence be it said, is as rough as an unripe
+persimmon, as sour as a lime, and as bitter as an
+aloe, and she has spoiled me for such gentle society
+as yours; now compose yourself, Rosalia,
+and hear me, and believe me when I say that if
+you refuse my hand—if you leave me here and
+go to the North—I—well! perhaps I shall not
+go mad, or blow my brains out, or break my
+heart, and die, but I shall be utterly wretched,
+and make every one miserable around me, I
+<em>know</em> I shall! I begin to feel it now. So, Rosalia,
+I have to propose to you to break this
+matter to Sophie, or let me do it, and to beg
+you, if she shall see no improper haste in the
+project of our marriage, that you will accept
+me; Rosalia, you make me talk <em>so</em> much, darling!—now,
+Rosalia, what do you say?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The girl paused, not in reflection, but in hesitation.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Dearest Rose, you give me so much pain.
+Rose! Rose!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Do I? I did not mean to.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Will you give a reply, Rose?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Wait, Gusty, till I talk to Sophie; but, oh!
+no, I do not like to, either—it is too queer. You,
+Gusty, you may talk to her.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Do you, do you say that, Rose! Tell me!
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_92'>92</span>tell me over again, Rose! I may ask your hand
+of Sophie and Wilde?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes,” whispered Rose, the blood rising to
+the edges of her hair.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, glory, hallelujah! God bless you, Rose!
+God Almighty bless you, Rose. Hey! stop,
+Lightning!” said he, suddenly jerking the bit,
+though in fact it was not the horse but Master
+Gusty that was bounding. “There, I am
+frightening you again, Rose! Be easy, Lightning!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Won’t you ride on? Sophie will be waiting
+for us.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes! yes! my angel Rose,” and they cantered
+on through the forest-path. It was the
+same forest-path leading from the village to the
+church so often mentioned in this story. They
+overtook Sophie Wilde and their party. Sophie
+was buried in thought; she was in fact just passing
+the spot where she had, eight years before,
+seen the apparition of the wanderer, and now
+passing the road for the last time, and under her
+peculiar circumstances, the fact was forcibly recalled
+to her mind. Rosalia paced up lovingly
+to her side, and kept there during her ride home.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Soon after dinner Gusty May found an opportunity
+of taking Sophie aside and making known
+his wishes. His embarrassment under <em>all</em> the
+circumstances of which <em>we</em> are cognisant, you
+know, was very natural and amusing. Sophie
+Wilde (I love to call her Sophie Wilde) was not
+perhaps the person of all others to consult in
+such a case; it did, however, vaguely dawn
+upon her mind that a little delay might not be
+unadvisable in the proposed marriage of a youth
+of nineteen with a girl of fifteen and a half; so
+she said dreamily that she would “Talk with
+Captain Wilde.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Up shot Gusty, exclaiming,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘<em>Talk with Captain Wilde!</em>’ ‘talk with
+Captain Wilde;’ yes! that’s it! that’s the tune!
+‘talk with Captain Wilde.’ What’s Captain
+Wilde to do with it? I asked <em>you</em>, because she
+insisted you should be consulted, and you are
+her little mamma. Seems to me that you have
+quite unnecessarily elevated him to the throne.
+‘Captain Wilde!’ he’s a great fellow, isn’t he?
+Captain Fiddlestick’s end! I should just like to
+hear <em>him</em> object—I just <em>should</em>. Shouldn’t be
+surprised though if he didn’t. ‘Talk to Captain
+Wilde!’ oh! <em>de</em>-cidedly. <em>She</em> said ‘Talk to
+Sophie,’ you say, ‘Talk to Captain Wilde,’ <em>he’ll</em>
+‘talk’ to Parson Buncombe; and while you are
+all ‘talk’-ing, my prospect of getting a pair of
+white kid gloves grows</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c004'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“‘Small by degrees and beautifully less!’”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c016'>exclaimed Gusty, ranting up and down the piazza,
+and flinging his coat-tails about. “I was
+born under the lost pleiad! I <em>know</em> I was! to
+be always crossed in love! to be hammered into
+a poet or something by hard blows! I be hanged
+if I will. I’m to be put in the still as roses
+are, and the essence of soul, the double extract
+of soul distilled from me by fire, while flesh and
+muscle, life and health shrivel up like rose leaves
+in the heat! No, I be hanged if I will. Cast
+me into the furnace and see if I don’t turn out
+to be gunpowder, and blow somebody up! or
+spirit-gas, and set some one on fire! <em>that’s</em> all!”
+and blowing, he sat down.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Look here, my dear Gusty,” said our bride,
+“don’t talk nonsense. You have a long leave
+of absence; come! go with us North. You indeed
+have the best excuse; you may be said to
+be in duty bound to go, as our groomsman, and
+in that capacity you must constantly attend
+Rosalia, and who knows, you may be appointed
+to our ship; the set of officers is not yet complete.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“So I may! oh, God bless you, Sophie, it
+took just <em>you</em> to think of that! though you may
+not be as sensible as mother, or as brilliant as
+Hagar—yet you are better. I wish the comparative
+had been <em>good</em>er than <em>either</em> of them! anything
+that is to make anybody happy, dear
+Sophie! I shall not leave it to ‘who knows’
+and ‘perhaps,’ I shall beg uncle to get me
+appointed to his ship, if he can—where is he?
+I am going to him! in the meantime consider
+me enlisted for this Northern bridal cruise,” and
+off he went to seek Captain Wilde.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>I leave it to any gentleman or lady present
+whether it was in Captain Wilde’s power just
+that day to look rationally, sensibly, coldly,
+upon a young lover’s passion.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why, Gusty, my boy,” he said, “you know
+very well that I have very little influence; however,
+I will exert that in procuring your appointment
+to my ship, and Gusty, in the meantime
+come on with us and remain until you receive
+orders somewhere. Rosalia is a treasure, and if
+I had the power of bestowing her, I do not
+know to whom I could give her with so much
+pleasure as yourself. But you must wait,
+Gusty, for a year or two—you are both somewhat
+too young to think of this marriage yet a
+while.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why, uncle, this ‘wait’-ing might be endurable
+if the time were passed with you all, and in
+daily company of Rosalia, to be sure.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>This arrangement was finally concluded.
+And Emily, who loved Rosalia, and preferred
+her above all others as a future daughter-in-law,
+readily consented to forego the society of her
+son for the present, merely saying—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>When</em> you marry, if you ever marry Rosalia,
+you must bring her home here and leave her
+with me while you are at sea, Gusty, and that is
+the only condition upon which I can consent to
+part with you, Gusty, for this term.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Of course Gusty consented and promised.</p>
+
+<hr class='c013'>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And so, my little dove-eyed darling is
+scarcely out of school, before she is betrothed—do
+you know the meaning of your vows, my
+little love?” asked Sophie, very seriously, the
+same afternoon as Rosalia nestled on a stool at
+her feet. And Rose dropped her blushing face
+in the lap of Sophie, and was silent. “Do you?—tell
+me, Rose?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Dear Sophie, I had rather not get married—only,
+you know, poor Gusty, it would be a pity
+to hurt his feelings!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You child!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But, Sophie, I am not—not betrothed, as
+you suppose—no indeed, I gave no positive
+answer until I could hear what you would have
+to say.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You did not!” said Sophie, suddenly. “Oh,
+then, my dear Rose, I beg—I entreat that you
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_93'>93</span>will bind yourself by no rash vows now—wait—you
+are heart-whole yet—wait—Gusty is going
+on with us—you will see more of him—he of
+you—and you will both find out whether you
+are fitted for each other. Will you promise me
+not to engage your hand ever without my consent,
+Rose?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Dear Sophie, to be sure I will—I never
+once thought of doing otherwise.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>This was perfectly easy for Rose, for her
+own inclinations were uninterested in the matter.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Breaking up an old home, the home of many
+years—I had nearly said centuries, is not like a
+modern city May day flitting. A home like old
+Heath Hall, with its accumulations, its secretions
+of many years and many hearts, with its innumerable
+old closets, cupboards, wardrobes, escritoires,
+and “old oak chests,” with their inexhaustible
+treasures, relics, and curiosities—from
+the doublet and hose that the founder of the
+American branch of the family wore—with his
+point and ruffles and bonnet and plume—to the
+cocked hat and rusty sword of great-great-grandfather,
+and the hooped petticoat and high
+heeled shoes of his wife—from the first baby cap
+that the first American Churchill baby wore, to
+the lock of grey hair that was cut from his
+coffined head just before the lid was screwed
+down—from the veil that fell around the maiden
+at her bridal to the cap the grandmother died in—from
+the bullet extracted from the fiery-hearted
+son who had perished in battle, to the clerical
+black silk gown his gentle bosomed brother had
+worn in his ministry when he married, christened
+or blessed. Truly the organ of veneration must
+be largely developed in these old Maryland and
+Virginian families—all things linked with family
+associations are relics it would be little short of
+sacrilege to destroy. The cast off bridal wreath
+and veil that a northern or a city belle would
+generously and properly bestow upon some
+young sister or cousin, is gently lifted from her
+daughter’s brow by a Maryland mother—reverentially
+lifted as you have seen a minister raise
+the cloth from a communion table, and laid
+away a sacred treasure, a relic to be handled
+with awe and love by the children in future ages.
+The wardrobe of the dead that many northern
+and city families send to the proper destination,
+the backs of the ragged living, in Maryland and
+Virginia is carefully collected and packed away
+in chests and locked, and hermetically sealed as
+it were to moulder away to dust in long years.
+These old houses—how the very smell of their
+musty mysterious old closets and closely shaded
+rooms, for dreaming carries us back to the days
+when people did not understand that ventilation
+was necessary to health, to the days when we
+lay across grandmother’s soft lap, watching
+through our winking eyes grandmother’s dear
+good face, and, vibrating between angel dream
+land and her capped and spectacled face, dimly
+wondered what we were, and slipped from this
+vague feeling into sleep. These old houses
+have no antiquities carrying us back to the very
+ancient feudal times, it is true; but they have that
+which comes more warmly, <em>so</em> warmly! home
+to the heart, all the signs of <em>long inhabitedness</em>.
+The old windows may creak in the wintry blast,
+and the wind whistle up from crevices at the very
+foot of the old mantel-pieces beside the blazing
+hickory fire, yet the heart is all the warmer for
+its old age, because grandfather and grandmother
+lived there and <em>their</em> grandparents before them.
+These old houses scattered at wide intervals up
+and down the shores of the Chesapeake Bay and
+its tributaries, and under the Easterly shadow of
+the Blue Ridge Mountains, and in and out among
+the hills and through the forests between them—these
+old houses, spotting the verdure of new
+settlements like iron-mould—these old houses,
+many of them still inhabited by the old families,
+while both decay together, still blossoming out
+occasionally with young life, young children, remind
+me strongly of old mouldering tombs from
+which fresh blooming flowers are springing.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Let’s leave all things just <em>so</em>, Hagar, love,”
+said Sophie, as the two were making a tour of
+the old Hall, opening and examining old closets
+and chests with a view of determining what
+should be taken, what left, what burnt and what
+given away. “We will lock up all the rest
+without examination. I have not nerves for it,
+Hagar. It is like dissecting a heart, to explore
+the treasures and memorials and relics of the
+long ago dead. Let us leave them so.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Let’s make a general bonfire of them,” said
+Hagar, “I never like these relics, they come
+across me unpleasantly, very—why should
+people accumulate them—storing up pangs
+against some day of pangs. ‘Let the dead past
+bury its dead;’ <i><span lang="fr">en avant</span></i> is my motto.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie looked at her with her brown eyes
+dilating in reverie.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Perhaps you are right after all—these relics
+awaken mournful, not to say maudlin feelings
+that might sleep but for their sight; nevertheless,
+<em>I</em> could not destroy these things, neither can I
+consent to their destruction.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>It was finally agreed in consultation that all
+things should remain just as they were, that the
+Hall should be closed, and left in charge of old
+Cumbo and Tarquinius.</p>
+
+<hr class='c013'>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Where are you going, Hagar?” said Raymond,
+as she sauntered from the breakfast-room
+off into the yard.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“To see Starlight. I have not seen him
+since our marriage, and I was accustomed to go
+to his stall every morning when Tarquinius carried
+his oats.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why did you not ask me to attend you?”
+inquired Raymond, as he drew her hand under
+his arm.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Because, Mr. Raymond,” flashed Hagar’s
+eyes and teeth, “I love to shake you <em>off</em> some
+time! when you set like a trammel—besides you
+do not like Starlight.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Raymond replied by drawing her arm closer
+and holding her hand tighter, while her pointers,
+Remus and Romulus, seeing her, sprang to her,
+bounded around her, and she stopped to caress
+them with her free hand. Raymond an instant
+looked annoyed, then raising the loaded end of
+his riding-whip, struck them away. Hagar
+snatched her hand from his arm, and all the fire
+of her race and nation was burning in the indignant
+gaze she flashed upon his brow that still
+remained unfurrowed by a frown in its superb
+calmness.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, Hagar, I am not scathed, blasted
+by that lightning stroke, am I? Nonsense, Hagar,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_94'>94</span>do you suppose I am going to permit a hand
+I love to kiss to be licked over by those two
+curs?—pooh! go wash it.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“They are <em>not</em> curs, they are fine splendid
+pointers! Look at their shining black coats and
+eyes like coals! and their <em>love</em> has more generous
+disinterestedness than—” And here she paused,
+her expiring flash of spirit died out beneath the
+steady inquiring gaze of the soft, deep blue eyes,
+striking up through which came a will, a purpose,
+the strength of which was dimly guessed
+from the depths from which it seemed to come.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Than <em>what</em>, Hagar?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Nothing!” said Hagar, as her high heart-throbbing
+subsided. He drew her arm again
+within his own, and they proceeded to the
+stables. At the sight of his mistress, Starlight
+neighed loud for joy, and breaking away, cantered
+up to meet her, pawed the ground, stretched
+out his head, and couched it in the open palms
+she held to receive it. Hagar smiled in his eyes,
+full of the earnestness she could not speak, and
+stroking his jet black neck, let him lay his chin
+upon her shoulders alternately, and rub his
+mouth upon her neck and cheek, snorting with
+joy between times.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“See, Raymond! see,” she said, with her
+momentary anger all conjured away. “See
+how the very <em>want</em> of the gift of speech makes
+his eyes and motions so eloquent! See how
+glad he is to see me! don’t I understand you,
+Starlight? and don’t you know every word I am
+saying?” said she, caressing him.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>But now her eyes fell upon Raymond, who
+was standing with folded arms, curling lip, and
+scornful eyes, regarding her.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why do you look at me in that way, Raymond?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You have no refinement, no delicacy. Your
+dress pawed over and soiled by your canine pets—your
+ringlets snuffed at, and your neck rubbed
+by the nose of your pony. I am glad that in a
+few days I shall be able to remove you from all
+these things.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But I wish to take Starlight and Remus and
+Romulus with me,” said Hagar, as she turned
+away from the stable, and they sauntered on.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You cannot do so.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why?” she asked, anxiously.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I do not like dogs and horses myself, and I
+very much <em>dis</em>like your attachment to them, and
+I utterly disapprove of your use of them; when
+you cannot walk there are carriages to be had!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You never told me that you disapproved of
+my habits before!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I had no right to <em>express</em> it before, and yet
+you learned it from my silence, and now I say it
+explicitly, and expect that my tastes be consulted
+in the matter.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And you have no right to express it <em>now</em>!
+sir,” exclaimed the mad girl, with the fire flaming
+in her eyes. “No right to express it <em>now</em>!
+<em>what</em> right have you <em>now</em>, more than you ever
+had over me? None that I acknowledge!
+None that I will bear to have you assume!
+None, Raymond! <em>none!</em> All love! all compliance
+that I yield you now I would have
+yielded you before! and you know it! you
+know it! of my own free will! of my own
+glorious free will!—not from constraint! God
+in Heaven! you exasperate—you madden me—by
+attempts at constraint! Raymond! what do
+you mean by this? I do not like it. No! I
+will turn away, I will not look at your cold,
+spirit-killing eyes. I will not let your cold,
+damping, implacable will extinguish my life and
+soul as the rain puts out the fire. <em>I</em> have a will!
+and tastes, and habits, and propensities! and
+loves and hates! yes, and conscience! that all
+go to make up the sum total of a separate individuality!
+a distinct life! for which <em>I alone</em> am
+accountable, and <em>only</em> to God! How weak and
+worthless would my obedience to God be if it
+were fettered through a submission to <em>any</em> lower
+will. No, I will <em>not</em> bear to have you assume
+any right over my freedom of action, and I shall
+take my favorites with me to the North.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>A sarcastic smile fluttered around the beautiful
+lips and gleamed under the golden eye-lashes
+of Raymond Withers as he slightly raised
+his hat from his head with a mock bow, and
+sauntered away from her side, quoting for her
+benefit the very last clause of Genesis iii. and 16.
+It only needed his sarcasm to exasperate the
+girl to phrensy. She snapped and ground her
+teeth together, and stamped with both little feet,
+springing to the ground as though they would
+take root there—while anger rocked and flamed
+to and fro in her bosom like a sea of fire lashing
+its shores. Suddenly—veiling her flashing eyes
+and setting her gleaming teeth with a look of
+resolution, she went to the stables and calling
+Tarquinius, bade him saddle Starlight.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“We will have another day together, my old
+friends,” said she, as the horse neighed joyously,
+and the dogs bounded around her each in intelligent
+anticipation; and in ten minutes from this
+Hagar was flying over the heath towards the
+forest attended by her favorites.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The sun was setting in golden glory as Hagar
+rode into the yard at Heath Hall, sprang from
+her horse, and throwing the reins to Tarquinius
+walked leisurely towards the house, smiled and
+bowed salutation to the company assembled to
+enjoy the evening air in the piazza, and passed on
+into the Hall—Sophie followed her, and with
+the tears welling up to her eyes exclaimed,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! Hagar, what have you done?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar threw up her little glittering head of
+ringlets and replied with laughing defiance,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I have been taking one of my old days
+among the hills! I wished to feel my freedom
+a little, that is all! I have been galled by the
+too close pressure of my chains lately, and have
+broken them through for once, that’s all.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“How will you meet Raymond after this
+escapade?” said she, sadly.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Nonsense, Sophie, how will he meet <em>me</em>?”
+and she ran up stairs.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Be quick, dear, trying Hagar, tea is nearly
+ready,” said Sophie, gazing earnestly after her—then
+with a second thought, inspired by this second
+and closer glance, Sophie went up stairs to
+her room, found her standing leaning her elbow
+on her dressing-table, while her forehead rested
+upon the palm of her hand, and her long glittering
+ringlets fell half way to her girdle—her little
+figure was visibly throbbing with emotion.
+Sophie went and took the hand that was hanging
+down; it was burning, hot, and dry.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hagar!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You are wretched, poor child, and indeed I do
+not wonder. Hagar, will you take my advice?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_95'>95</span>“What is it?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Tell</em> your husband when you meet him that
+you are so—<em>you</em> have sinned, Hagar, and <em>you</em>
+must atone for your sin; lay your small hand
+gently on his arm, and look into his face, catch
+his eyes, and ask him to forgive you.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<span class='sc'>What!</span>” snapped the proud girl, bounding
+like a little bombshell; “hold out my wrists
+humbly for the gyves, and ask my master please
+to fasten them on again! No! may I die if I
+do!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! don’t look at it in that light, Hagar;
+you have wronged, outraged, insulted Raymond.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Did he tell you so?” sneered Hagar.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Can I not see it, Hagar? No, he did not tell
+me so—do you not know enough of Raymond’s
+proud and fastidious nature to see that he <em>could</em>
+not tell me so, Hagar? No, poor misguided
+child, your day’s absence was enough. Come,
+Hagar, seek a reconciliation with him—you
+<em>have</em> been wrong—say so to him at once. You
+will have not a moment’s peace until you are
+reconciled to your husband—seek that reconciliation
+at any price of your own sinful pride.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I will not! cannot!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But, Hagar, you <em>do</em> regret this, you suffer
+torture.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I can <em>bear</em> torture! but not humiliation!
+degradation!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Alas! look at you, the very flame of mental
+fever flickering through your cheeks and eyes—the
+freshness of your lips scorched by the dry
+heat of your breath. What a day you have had
+to-day, Hagar! how much your defiance has
+cost you! Come, come, bathe your eyes; after
+tea I will, if I can, talk with you again. You
+will be wise.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The supper bell rang, and Sophie, with a
+hasty charge to Hagar to make her toilet
+quickly, arose and left the room. And Hagar
+sprang to her feet with a determination to look
+very regal, happy, and defiant. She bathed her
+burning eyes and brow, but without cooling their
+fever. She smoothed her long glittering ringlets,
+and collected them under a jewelled comb.
+She changed her black riding-dress for a crimson
+satin, with full and falling sleeves, fastened
+a ruby bracelet on her slender but rounded arm,
+and descended the stairs, trying to draw her
+heart up blithe and high; she entered the drawing-room
+with head erect, expanded brow, and
+elastic step, and was passing on proudly alone,
+behind the company, who were going to the
+supper room, when quickly and softly at her side
+was Raymond, his graceful head, with its wavy
+golden hair, bending forward, smiling up into
+her face; his soft eyes radiant under their
+golden lashes, and his delicate hand seeking
+hers, to draw it through his arm, just as if nothing
+had happened. Her own Raymond!—her
+pride was disarmed in a moment. Sunbright
+was the smile of surprise, joy, love, and
+gratitude she flashed up in his gentle face, and
+suddenly it softened into tenderness; how could
+she have defied a gentle soul like his?—in truth,
+she would have given everything she possessed
+on earth, except Remus, Romulus, and Starlight,
+to have blotted out for ever the offence of the
+day. She had not expected this; she had prepared
+herself to defy the storm, not the sunshine,
+and her defences were all melted off. She was
+subdued, and quietly and generously resolved in
+her own mind not to shock and wound his fastidious
+delicacy again, and so they sat down to
+supper. The neighborhood gossip of a tea-table
+occupied the company. But Hagar continued
+to watch Raymond with a new feeling, new interest;
+it seemed his character was now constantly
+unfolding itself to her; new leaf after leaf was
+turned; she watched him covertly but closely.
+His manner was just precisely as usual; and,
+though she often caught his full eyes, not the
+slightest consciousness of remembering that anything
+unpleasant had occurred was to be detected
+in their glance. His countenance and manner
+wore their usual air of graceful self-possession
+and elegant repose, and she would have thought
+that, indeed, the occurrence of the day had
+dropped from his memory, but that once, quickly,
+under his breath, he had said, “Your restlessness
+of manner, your anxiety of expression, will
+draw attention—be at ease.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Be at ease”—these words, though spoken in
+the softest key, and with the sweetest smile,
+somehow did not set her at ease; and “You
+will draw attention,” raised an anxiety that she
+had not felt before. Was it the dislike of drawing
+attention?—but she would wait. Oh, how
+she longed for the stupid evening to be over; it
+is so hard to bear calmly, cheerfully, a toothache
+or a heart-ache in company. It was long
+before they left the tea-table, and then it was
+long before they got ready to go home, and after
+they were all in their saddles and in their carriages
+on the road, it was long before Sophie’s
+smiling good night broke up the family circle
+for the evening. Sophie left the room with a
+congratulatory smile to Hagar, happy in the
+thought that their quarrel was made up. Raymond
+followed her, smiling, to the door, opened
+it, bowed her out, closed it, and returned; then
+with a sudden impulse went back, re-opened it,
+and passed out.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar awaited his return half an hour, and
+then sought her chamber. She expected him
+joyously, yet with a little undefinable anxiety.
+At last she heard his steps ascending the stairs,
+he opened the door, and came in; she turned
+quickly, and going to meet him, holding out
+both hands, exclaimed,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Dearest Raymond, I am so glad that we are
+alone, together at last, my heart has been ready
+to burst all the—” She stopped short, and
+gazed in surprise at him. How changed his
+aspect! was it the same Raymond that an hour
+ago was smiling, bowing, glancing, gliding
+through the lighted drawing-rooms? He stood
+with folded arms and curling lip; his cold eye
+crawling over her from head to foot, yet so fascinating
+in his beautiful scorn, that she could
+have uttered a death-cry of anguish, as love and
+pride tugged at her heart-strings. He passed
+her and threw himself upon a lounge. She had
+been prepared for this scorn and anger three
+hours before, but she was not now—not after
+having been subdued by soft smiles, sweet words,
+and gentle tones, that she had received in all trust—no,
+not now—the touch of the soft fingers
+that had sought and pressed her hand in drawing
+it through his arm; the touch of those soft fingers
+was yet quivering on <em>her</em> fingers; the rays
+of those gentle eyes were yet beaming in <em>her</em>
+eyes; the tones of that low, love-pitched voice yet
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_96'>96</span>breathing in her ear—no, she could not believe
+in this harshness, at <em>least</em> she could not bear it.
+He was now sitting on the lounge, making entries
+in a note-book, with his usual air of elegant
+ease. She looked at him an instant, and then
+going up to him she stood before him; he continued
+his writing, without looking up; the flame
+flickered in and out upon her dark cheek; soon
+she dropped both hands upon his shoulders, and
+dropped her proud head until the long glittering
+ringlets fell each side of his cheeks, and sitting
+down beside him and dropping her face upon his
+bosom, she whispered softly,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Raymond, make friends with me! I will do
+anything in the world you wish me to do—come!
+I will leave undone all you wish me so to
+leave, if you will make friends with me again;”
+and a tearless heart-sob breaking from her lips
+showed how great had been the pang of her
+vanquished pride.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He lifted her head from its resting-place,
+smoothed back the ringlets of her hair, and holding
+her face between the palms of his hands,
+gazed smilingly into her eyes, with a look, half
+of love, half triumph, and said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You will? but then your ‘separate soul—will—individuality’—what
+are you to do with it
+all? Answer me—I want a literal reply, in
+words—”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I don’t know!—how do <em>I</em> know?—don’t
+seek to humble me, dear Raymond—I am tortured!—tortured!—tortured!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Tortured?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes!—yes!” exclaimed she, wildly,—“<em>tortured!</em>”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Who tortures you, my piquant little love, my
+little vial of sal-volatile?” said he, condescendingly,
+caressing her.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You do, Raymond!—and myself!—myself
+tortures me!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why, so it seems.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, Raymond, understand me, and help
+me to understand myself. I only lately began
+to know myself. I am a strange blending of
+pride and aspiration!—and of love, and through
+love, fear!—the eagle and the dove!—alas,
+bear with me!—hold my throbbing temples between
+your cool hands, Raymond—<em>your</em> hands
+are <em>always</em> cool—so!—now calmly, I do not
+know that there is anything to make me wild,
+or angry, just now—yet these clashing and conflicting
+elements do so war in my nature—listen,
+Raymond! when you angered me this
+morning, and left me, the aroused passion of
+my soul heaved and set like the sea in a storm,
+leaping from its bed and lashing the shores! I
+could not have believed it possible that you
+<em>could</em> have angered me so—or being angered so,
+that I could have got over it so; and now that
+is gone, and—never wound my poor dove because
+my eagle has stuck her beak and claws into
+you—”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, love, the dove shall never be wounded,
+but <em>the claws and wings of the eagle shall be
+clipped</em>,” said he, looking steadily in her anguished
+eyes. “Don’t reply to me yet, Hagar, you
+are about to say something that will make more
+trouble between us.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Then with a dry sob and gasp, Hagar’s heart
+shrank into silence, and he smiled to see it, and
+all this while he was lightly caressing her—running
+his fair fingers through her glossy hair, and
+kissing her lips from time to time. At last she
+said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I have been thinking what to do with my
+favorites, Starlight and the pointers.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And has your unassisted wisdom arrived at
+any conclusion, my love?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, I will leave them here, in the care of
+Tarquinius, for a while; then, perhaps, after a
+while, when we get settled, you will not object
+to have them.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I am sorry, love, that our thoughts did not
+happen to run in the same channel, very sorry.
+I made a sale of the horse and dogs to Gardiner
+Green, this morning, while you were taking your
+last ride with them, and to-night, after you came
+home, I sent them over to his farm by Tarquinius.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“NO!” exclaimed Hagar, starting violently.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He held her tightly, gently compressing his
+arm about her waist, and replied, softly,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, love—nay, do not start and struggle,
+I cannot spare you, yet—yes, love, they are
+sold.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>My</em> horse!—<em>mine?</em>—<em>my own!</em>—my dear
+Starlight!—and my dogs—and without my
+leave!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Come, come!—come, come! be still, Hagar,
+no phrensy,” said he, smilingly, tauntingly
+caressing her, while a gentle, cruel strength
+struck out from the pressure of the soft arms
+that held her in a fast embrace; “if your
+eagle flaps its wings and beats its cage so
+violently, I am afraid clipping its pinions and
+claws will not be enough—I am afraid I shall
+have to crush it altogether,” said he, looking
+down into her eyes.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She ceased to struggle, and dropped her hands
+clasped upon her lap—dropped her head upon
+her chest, while the color all faded from her
+cheeks, and the light from her eyes.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hagar!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What is the matter, love?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>What you please</em> shall be the matter!” exclaimed
+she, laughing bitterly, while light and
+color suddenly flashed back into her sparkling
+face.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Come, love, you are a spirited little thing,
+but you will be docile by and by, and then—”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I wish you joy of your automaton!”</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XXIV.<br> <span class='c009'>THE FORSAKEN HOUSE.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“Gloom is upon thy lonely hearth,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Oh, silent house! once filled with mirth,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Sorrow is in the breezy sound</div>
+      <div class='line'>Of thy tall poplars whispering round.”</div>
+      <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>Hemans.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>The family met at breakfast the morning succeeding
+the events of the last chapter. The
+family—that is, with the exception of Rosalia,
+who had been spending a week at Grove
+Cottage, consoling Emily for the disappointment
+of losing her company for the winter, by remaining
+with her as long as possible, and indeed up
+to the day of the proposed departure. Hagar
+entered the breakfast-room, escorted, as usual,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_97'>97</span>with the gentle and assiduous attention always
+given her, in public, by her husband. He led
+her to her place, and seated her with a graceful
+bow and sweet smile, and then assumed his own
+chair—smiling the morning salutation to Captain
+Wilde, who just entered the room. But Sophie
+looked at Hagar,—looked at her in astonishment.
+The spirited, springy little figure was
+almost languid, though she sat erect; the
+healthy crimson glow of her dark complexion
+had concentrated in a circumscribed purple spot
+on her <a id='t97'></a>cheek, leaving her contracted brow and
+quivering lip pallid; her strained glance expressed
+a mingled anguish and defiance. And
+then Sophie’s glance turned off from Hagar to
+Raymond; but his fine brow was perfectly
+smooth, his eyes smiling and his lips composed
+as he received the cup of coffee from the waiter
+held by Tarquinius. Sophie was so disturbed,
+upon the whole, that she could not eat her
+breakfast. This was the last day of their stay
+at Heath Hall. The packet that was to convey
+them to Baltimore was moored under the
+shadow of the promontory. Immediately after
+breakfast, both gentlemen left the house to
+superintend the removal of their baggage. Hagar
+arose from the table and went into the large old
+drawing-room, Sophie’s whilom school-room.
+Sophie, leaving her table in charge of the
+servants, followed her. She was walking
+uneasily about the floor, and seeing Sophie
+enter, she paused before the window. Sophie
+stole gently to her side, and passing her soft
+arms over the girl’s shoulder, stooped forward
+and looked seriously and lovingly into her anguished
+face, as she murmured in her low, sweet
+voice,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I must not ask you <em>now</em>, Hagar, my former
+question of ‘What is the matter between you
+and Raymond?’ but let me comfort you in some
+way. Oh, it is dreadful, indeed, my love, that
+you, a wife of scarcely two months—but I will
+say nothing of that—only I see,” said she, dropping
+her voice very low, “it is your <em>pride</em>,
+Hagar—don’t start, love, or repulse me, for you
+know we shall be separated very soon—it is
+your <em>pride</em>, love, that rebels against a rule every
+way gentle, just, and reasonable. Subdue it,
+Hagar. Your husband has been educated
+among the refinements of cultivated city society.
+He, himself, perhaps, among the most fastidious
+of that class. His taste is offended, his delicacy
+shocked by your wildness.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“He knew all this before. Why did he
+mar—”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hush! hush! Hagar! Never think such
+thoughts—ask such questions. He loves you,
+Hagar—has loved you long with a constancy I
+have never seen equalled but in one instance.
+He loved you—let me speak plainly, Hagar, for
+your sake and his—he loved you when you were
+a very <em>un</em>lovely child—at least to every one but
+me.—Well, he loved you, and sought and
+gained your love. You gave yourself away to
+him, and now he very naturally expects you to
+conform your manners to his tastes. Hagar, if
+liberty were dearer to you than love, you should
+never have given yourself to a husband. But
+that is not so—you know it—it is only your
+struggle, now—and, Hagar, this struggle, this
+resistance of your pride, <em>must cease</em>. Listen!
+Oh, Hagar!” said she, with unaccustomed energy,
+“listen to me—to <em>me</em>. I love you, and
+have no possible interest except your own welfare,
+in what I say to you. Your pride must be
+subdued—it must!—<em>must!</em> If you do not subdue
+it <em>yourself</em>, <em>he</em> will, with cruel pain to you.
+Raymond’s demands are all reasonable; such
+requirements are usual—in your case any man
+would make them—but in one thing Raymond
+differs from most men that I know—in the possession
+of an indomitable <span class='fss'>WILL</span>. In my long
+acquaintance with him, when my faculties were
+mature, and yours in the green bud, I have had
+an opportunity of seeing and knowing this. I
+am afraid <em>you</em> have mistaken him—with all his
+fair complexion and golden hair; in that beautiful
+form lives calmly an immensity of force, an
+eternity of purpose, almost omnipotent in its repose,
+and that it would be vain to look for in
+more impetuous, seemingly stronger natures; a
+power that is calmly, silently surrounding you.
+You feel it—do not struggle against it—you
+cannot overcome it, cannot escape from it, and
+it will never be withdrawn—it will close around
+you.—Yield gracefully to it! To your submission
+it will be a loving embrace—to your proud
+resistance it will be a galling chain; cease the
+struggle, Hagar, and be still.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Never! never! never!” exclaimed the proud
+girl, while her brow flushed to crimson as by the
+smite of shame.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But you have a traitor in your bosom that
+continually betrays you; or rather, I should say,
+your husband holds your heart-strings in his
+hand. You love him—yes, Hagar, <em>him</em> only,
+of all the world! You do not love me, or anybody
+else. From infancy the stream of your
+affections has run in one deep and narrow channel.
+Let that be checked, and the waves, turned
+to flame, will roll back upon your heart consuming
+it. Why, see, Hagar, see! when your wills
+clash, your pride is in arms—you oppose him,
+defy him, and he meets such defiance with a
+calm, quiet strength, not yielding an inch, and
+you suffer, as you are suffering now. Why
+suffer, Hagar? Tame that wild heart of yours.
+Hagar, the great secret of the power he possesses
+over you is this: he is calm, while you are impetuous—he
+can control <em>himself</em>, and thereby
+<em>you</em>—he can stifle, as you can not, that ‘mighty
+hunger of the heart,’ that craves a return of love—he
+can look coldly, sternly on you for days,
+weeks, while his very soul wails for your love.
+You cannot do this yourself, or bear it from him
+long; in a word, dear Hagar, you have neither
+might nor right on your side.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>During all this speech Hagar had been standing
+with her face to the window, with her eyes
+burning and burning through the glass, and
+Sophie had been standing by her side with her
+arm around her waist caressingly.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Come, Hagar!” she whispered low, “let me
+confide to you some of my own feelings,” and
+while she spoke she slightly smiled, her voice
+slightly quivered as with bashfulness or happiness,
+and the rose clouds rolled up over her
+cheeks, and even flushed her brow,—“I love my
+husband so much, so much, so much, with a fulness
+of tenderness that it seems to me could not
+be expressed, except by suffering something—sacrificing
+something for his sake. I am sure
+sometimes I wish he would ask me to do something
+naturally repugnant to my feelings, that I
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_98'>98</span>might have one opportunity of showing him how
+much I do love; to give up my very dearest
+wish for his pleasure would give me exquisite
+joy—a joy that I crave. I do not comprehend
+this, dear, but so it is.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, <em>I</em> comprehend it, Sophie, perfectly; it is
+the very same principle that led the saints
+ages ago to scourge and starve themselves to
+testify their love to God—God forgive them the
+blasphemy! You, Sophie, have a propensity to
+worship, and a very decided vocation for martyrdom,
+which, unfortunately, under existing circumstances,
+<em>I</em> have not!” sneered the scornful
+girl.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie’s brow was crimson now, and the tears
+swam in her eyes an instant, and she remained
+silent. At last she said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hagar, I must go away now; I have some
+arrangements to make for old Cumbo before we
+go. But before I leave you, Hagar, let me say
+again, you love your husband, and he loves you;
+he can stifle his affection, you cannot yours; his
+will is strong and fixed, yours impulsive and
+erratic. Your tastes and habits are in some
+respects opposed, and he requires you to conform
+yours to his; and, Hagar, you will have to yield—to
+love now, or to force, without love, hereafter.
+Yield now, dear, yield. There is no
+degradation in making a sacrifice to love.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The high-spirited girl turned flashing around
+upon her—pride and scorn seemed sparkling,
+scintillating from face and figure, by glance and
+gesture.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, there is degradation in sacrificing <em>freedom</em>
+to love—freedom to <em>anything</em> but God’s
+law!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie paused, as if in doubt whether to go
+on, or to return and speak again. Finally she
+went out.</p>
+
+<hr class='c013'>
+
+<p class='c008'>Rosalia returned that evening, accompanied
+by Gusty and the Buncombes. The family expected
+to leave Heath Hall the next morning,
+after an early breakfast. The Buncombes were
+to remain all night to see them off, and to shut
+up the house after their departure. Rosalia
+happened soon to perceive the cloud upon Hagar’s
+brow, and watching her attentively, saw
+that there was something wrong between her
+and Raymond; and the simple girl, remarking
+that <em>her</em> brow was angry and <em>his</em> serene, assumed
+immediately that he was the injured party, and
+so, through her benevolence, it happened quite
+naturally that her voice and smile softened into
+more than kindliness, into sisterly affection as
+she frequently addressed him. What a contrast
+to Hagar’s dark brow, curled lip, and bitter
+tones! It was morning and midnight, sunshine
+and storm, discord and harmony, fierceness and
+gentleness, scorn and reverence, hate and love—I
+had nearly said Heaven and Hell contrasted.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>That evening! To Hagar it was an evening
+to remember, to date from. While she sat
+there watching the innocent, the childlike maiden,
+with her gentle beauty and winning grace,
+smiling so sweetly, kindly, in Raymond’s face,
+lighting his countenance up with <em>real</em> and not
+conventional smiles, her mind flew back to the
+past, and all her childhood came before her;
+she recalled the day of Rosalia’s arrival at the
+Hall, and recollected how, from that day, she
+had drawn away all the love of the household
+from herself; she remembered that lately
+Augustus May had well nigh adored her, until
+the beauty and tenderness of Rosalia stole his
+heart away—and now! now! now!—oh “<em>that</em>
+way madness lay”—she watched them covertly
+through her tortured eyes, and with a gnawing
+pain at the heart—distinct as any physical pain,
+sharp as though a scorpion living there stung it
+to agony. Thus the seeds of evil, sown in her
+heart ten years before, were springing up into a
+thorn tree, that, lacerating her own bosom,
+should wound all near her. And Rosalia, too,
+with all her sweet, endearing qualities, she was
+vain, and often selfish. It was difficult to perceive
+this in the dear girl whose caressing hands
+and tender eyes seemed always pleading for
+your love.</p>
+
+<hr class='c013'>
+
+<p class='c008'>The next morning early the family assembled at
+the breakfast-table for the last time at Heath Hall.
+And that last breakfast was over, and they arose
+and went down to the beach under the promontory,
+where the packet lay already laden with
+their personal effects. They reached the water’s
+edge, took an affectionate leave of Emily and
+Mr. Buncombe, entered the boat that lay waiting
+to receive them, and were rowed to the
+packet. As soon as she had seen them safely
+embarked, and the vessel on her way, Emily
+took her husband’s arm, saying,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Come, let us return; we have enough to do
+to close up everything at the Hall, for one day.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The packet wended on her way, in time reaching
+Baltimore, where another vessel, bound for
+New York, received them.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>At the end of a week from leaving Churchill’s
+Point, they arrived safely in New York harbor,
+where the U. S. store-ship Rainbow waited to
+receive Captain Wilde and his party.</p>
+
+<hr class='c013'>
+
+<p class='c008'>Before entering upon the new scenes and
+deeper life of our story, let me recall distinctly
+the facts of history, and daguerreotype a set of
+pictures upon which the sun shone on Saturday,
+the 28th of September, 18—. First:</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>CHURCHILL’S POINT—HEATH HALL.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>On Saturday, the 28th of September, the sun
+shone down on the waters of the Chesapeake
+Bay, as they washed sleepily up towards the
+shore; on the lazy and shabby little village of
+Churchill’s Point, with its steep-roofed old houses,
+with its small interests and dead-alive look;
+upon the burnished surface of the heath bronzing
+under the dry heat; upon the changing foliage
+of the distant forest dropping its leaves—and the
+sun shone down warm and still upon the dark red
+crumbling walls, the closed doors and boarded
+windows of the old Hall, and the tall dark poplar
+trees that waved like funeral plumes around it. Old
+Cumbo sat in the kitchen door, with the accustomed
+red handkerchief tied over her white and
+woolly hair, while her face, black, hard, and
+seamed with wrinkles, like an Indian walnut,
+was bent over her work, the tying up of dried
+herbs—fit guardian of such a desolation. It
+was a still, deserted scene, filled with low sad
+music—the waters moaned as they washed the
+shore—the wind sighed in the distant forest, and
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_99'>99</span>rushing over the heath, wailed through the poplar
+trees that rocked to and fro round the deserted
+house. Nature seemed to mourn the loss of the
+joyous worshipper, the exultant young life that
+had vanished from the scene. Keep this picture
+in your mind for a while, for years passed and
+brought no change, but change of seasons, to it.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>GROVE COTTAGE.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The same morning the sun shone upon the
+Grove, refulgent in its still autumn glory, and
+falling upon the dry leaves and red berries of the
+rose trees, stole into the quiet parlor of the Cottage,
+still glittering in its sober, polished steel-like
+splendor, and smiled a morning smile upon
+the parson and his calm wife, sitting within.
+They were seated at opposite sides of a round
+table. The parson with his manuscript upon a
+small portable writing-desk, busy in correcting
+his sermons for the next day, while he carried on
+a desultory chat with his wife. Emily with her
+work-box before her, embroidering a very minute
+cap, and sustaining at her leisure her part in the
+quiet conversation. There they sat with no
+children to bind them together, yet loving and
+contented as a pair of partridges. They could
+not work apart, and the parson had abandoned
+his well appointed study and handsome writing-table,
+and Emily had forsaken her elegant workstand,
+and he had brought his manuscript, and
+she had brought her sewing to the small, round
+table, large enough, though, for the convenience
+of loving partners. And every day as soon as
+he arose, the sun looked full through the front
+window and laughed good morning, and every
+evening he glanced obliquely through the end
+window and smiled good night, with a promise
+to return. Remember this picture also, dear
+reader; for years passed away and brought no
+change to the Buncombes, except a baby to Emily,
+a little girl, born when she was thirty-seven, and
+two grey hairs to the parson, which Emily
+kissed when she saw them.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>THE U. S. STORE SHIP RAINBOW.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The sun arose the same day upon the harbor,
+shipping, and city of New York, upon Brooklyn
+and its Navy Yard, and upon the store-ship Rainbow
+stationed there, and shining down upon the
+snowy sails, the well polished deck, the varnished
+tarpaulin hats and blue jackets of the sailors, the
+red coats and glittering bayoneted muskets of
+the marines, upon the flashing epaulets of the
+officers, at last stole down the gangway into
+the captain’s cabin, where around an elegantly
+appointed breakfast sat our party from Heath
+Hall, in the following order: Sophie at the
+head of the table, blushingly doing the honors
+of the coffee and tea—on her left sat Hagar,
+with Raymond by her side—on her right sat
+Rosalia, and next below her Gusty; then came
+several young officers of the crew, and at the
+foot of the table Captain Wilde presided over
+the dish before him. It was a novel sight and
+scene for our visitors. Hagar’s lightning eyes
+and apprehension had taken in all the wonders
+of the ship at a glance, and she had no more to
+learn and nothing to wonder at. Sophie seemed
+to defer her curiosity and govern her glances,
+until the absence of her guests and the settlement
+of herself and effects, gave her full opportunity
+of satisfying it. But Rosalia seemed as though
+her eyes would never weary of wandering over
+the strange new scene. Captain Wilde was in
+the finest spirits, as well he might be; Raymond
+serene as usual—but poor Gusty looked cloudy.
+A disappointment had overshadowed him.
+Another passed-midshipman was appointed to the
+Rainbow, and he was ordered to sea, and to
+sail in five weeks, for a voyage of three years.
+So Gusty was cast down, as well <em>he</em> might be.
+Rosalia, with her sweet benevolence, was doing
+all that in her lay to soothe and comfort him.
+She promised to marry him when he came
+back; she would have promised anything in the
+world to have raised his spirits; and she continued
+to remind him that at least they had five
+weeks to spend together yet—a long, long time,
+she said; and at last Gusty got over the first
+shock of his disappointment, and became cheerful.
+Forget this picture as quickly as you
+please, for it changed and vanished like the
+shifting combinations of the kaleidoscope, and
+was never re-produced.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Immediately after breakfast, Raymond and
+Hagar took leave of their friends, and entered a
+steamboat bound up the river.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XXV.<br> <span class='c009'>THE RIALTO.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line in18'>“Amongst the hills,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Seest thou not where the villa stands? The moonbeam</div>
+      <div class='line'>Strikes on the granite column, and mountains</div>
+      <div class='line'>Rise sheltering round it.”</div>
+      <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>Lady Flora Hastings.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>The sun was setting on the evening of the
+third day from their departure from New York,
+as Mr. and Mrs. Withers stood upon the deck
+of the steamboat Venture, and watched the
+approach of a village on the eastern bank of the
+Hudson. It was a village of considerable
+importance as to size, and of great beauty of
+locality. Nearly all the houses were painted
+white, and nestled in and out among the trees
+and hills. Many of their windows faced the
+river, and flashed back the golden fire of the
+setting sun. While Hagar watched the distant,
+but fast approaching village, Raymond called
+her attention to a mansion-house on the same
+side of the river, and which being some quarter
+of a mile below the village, was now quite
+opposite to them. Hagar turned and gazed
+with all a rustic’s admiration, at the splendid
+mansion. Let me describe it as she then saw it.
+It stood half way up a forest-covered hill, which
+formed a background to the oblong square front
+of white freestone, with its eight upper windows
+and four lower windows separated by the handsome
+marble portico, and blazing in the sunbeams,
+presented to the view.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“That is an elegant villa!” exclaimed Hagar.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And it is beautiful on a nearer view,” replied
+her husband.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I wonder whose it is?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“It is called ‘The Rialto,’ and belongs to a
+gentleman who is now travelling.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Then it is unoccupied.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“It has been shut up a long time, and left in
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_100'>100</span>the care of a porter who lives at the gate, <em>but</em>
+at the time I was last in this neighborhood,
+which, Hagar, was when I was returning,
+recalled by you, the house was undergoing
+repairs, cleaning, painting, &#38;c., preparing for
+the reception of the owner, who was about to be
+married and bring home his young bride. I
+suppose by this time the coverings are all
+removed from the furniture, pictures, &#38;c., that
+everything is in perfect readiness for the reception
+of the master.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>While he spoke the sun sank below the horizon,
+and the blaze faded from the long windows of
+the villa just as the boat shot past. In ten more
+minutes she had reached the village of W——.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Mr. Withers conducted his wife to the nearest
+hotel, and leaving her there, returned to attend
+to his baggage.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar sought a bed-chamber with a view of
+arranging her dress and smoothing her hair, that
+had been ruffled by the river breeze.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>What were Hagar’s feelings now that she was
+launched alone with her husband, out into a
+strange new scene? With one who was to be
+her constant companion for perhaps fifty or
+sixty years—for Hagar was but eighteen, and
+Raymond twenty-eight. High spirited, but
+forgiving, her fiery anger had expended itself long
+since, and her pride was quiet, as nothing new
+occurred to alarm it. But another feeling was
+alarmed and aroused—her latent and deep-seated
+jealousy—in a silent but deadly fear of losing
+value in his estimation by comparison with the
+beautiful and gentle Rosalia, she had lost something
+of her proud self-confidence. Besides,
+severed from the home and friends of her childhood,
+from all early habits and associations; in
+a new and untried scene, a stranger and alone
+with him, she felt her dependence upon him—all
+this, and the deep, strong, and exclusive love
+she bore him, conspired with <em>another</em> circumstance
+to soften the fierceness of her spirit, and
+tame the wildness of her manners. Hagar
+arranged her travelling dress, and smoothed her
+glossy ringlets, and sat down by the window to
+watch the coming of Raymond.  Could you
+have seen her then you would have loved her for
+the new and strange tenderness shining softly
+in her eyes, and blushing faintly through her
+cheeks and lips as she leaned her face upon her
+hand, while her elbow rested on the window-sill.
+At last the quick light step of Raymond was
+heard upon the stairs, and he entered, saying—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Come, love! are you ready?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She arose and tied her bonnet.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, and impatient to see our little home,
+dear Raymond—for a sweet <em>little</em> home I
+suppose it will be, to accord with your salary.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He smiled and drew her arm in his, led her
+down stairs, and through the principal entrance
+to where a carriage stood before the door. A
+coachman sat upon the box; a footman in livery
+stood holding the door open; Raymond handed
+her in, followed her, and took a seat by her side.
+The footman put up the steps, closed the door,
+and sprang up behind. The carriage was driven
+off. It rolled through the village, and leaving
+its lights behind, entered a broad but dark forest
+road.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Where are we going?” inquired Hagar.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Home</em>, my love!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I thought that we were to reside in the
+village?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Did you?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why, yes, certainly I did.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He drew her head down upon his bosom, and
+smoothing back her hair, kissed her forehead and
+then her lips; he seemed more inclined to caress
+than to converse, so she asked him no more
+questions then. He seemed to love her so tenderly
+and truly now, that she no longer defied
+him. And she was sinking into a sort of luxurious
+repose—which, we hope, may last. The
+carriage had been winding up a wooded hill,
+where the branches of the tall trees met overhead,
+so that Hagar, looking out, could scarcely
+see the stars glimmer through the foliage; at
+last it emerged from the woods and stopped; the
+steps were let down, the door opened. Raymond
+sprang out and held his hand to assist Hagar;
+then conducted her through a wide gate. It was
+dark, and she could see only trees, with glimpses
+of sward between them; and off to her left flitting
+in and out glimpses of a white house, whose
+size and shape it was impossible to detect. Their
+path formed a half circle and ascended; presently
+emerging from it, they stood before a large and
+elegant mansion, whose appearance corresponded
+with that of the villa she had so much admired on
+her way up the river. He led her up the broad
+marble stairs that led to the front door—opened
+the door, from which a flood of light poured,
+letting go her hand, stepped in before her,
+turned, opened his arms, and said, in a voice of
+deep emotion,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Come, dear Hagar! Let me welcome you
+to your long, future home—welcome! welcome!
+dear wife, to arms, and bosom, and home.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar threw herself into his embrace, and then
+he led her through a door opening from the left
+into a superb drawing-room, furnished in the old,
+gorgeous style, with a rich Turkey carpet “that
+stole all noises from the feet,” with crimson velvet,
+gold fringed curtains hanging from the windows,
+and opposite from the lofty arch that divided
+the front from the back room; with heavy
+chairs and sofas, whose crimson coverings harmonized
+with the curtains; with crystal mirrors
+reaching from ceiling to floor; with rare paintings
+from the old masters; with costly and curious
+lamps, whose light glowing through the stained
+glass shades upon the crimson appointments of
+the room, diffused a rich, subdued refulgence
+through the scene. Raymond led Hagar to one
+of the deep arm-chairs, and seating her, pulled
+the bell-rope. The door opened, and the footman
+who had attended them, stood a step within
+the room.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Request Mrs. Collins to come to us.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The man bowed and withdrew. Soon the
+door again opened, and a small, elderly woman,
+in a black silk dress and a neat cap, made her
+appearance.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“My dear Hagar, this is our housekeeper—the
+excellent Mrs. Collins—she will show you your
+dressing-room; you will find your trunks all
+there, or near at hand, and will have ample time
+to change your travelling dress before supper,
+and we have still a long evening before us. To-morrow
+I will take you over the house,” said
+he, in a low voice, as Mrs. Collins approached
+them—then, “Be so good as to show Mrs.
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_101'>101</span>Withers to her rooms, Mrs. Collins,” he said
+aloud, and the nice little woman smiled, withdrew,
+reappeared with a lamp, and conducted
+our Hagar, silently wondering, through the passage
+and up the broad staircase to a front room
+immediately over the drawing-room. It was a
+large, light, airy room, with two tall front windows
+curtained with white dimity, between which
+stood a dressing-table with a tall, swinging mirror.
+At the opposite end of the room was a
+mahogany door leading into her bed-chamber,
+and on each side of the door stood two large,
+tall mahogany wardrobes; the coverings of the
+lounge, easy chair, &#38;c., were white, and the
+walls were covered with paper of a white ground,
+over which ran a vine of green leaves, with here
+and there a small, scarlet flower. The carpet
+on the floor was of the same cheerful pattern;
+the room had an inexpressibly clean, pure, and
+fragrant character. Placing her keys in the
+hands of Mrs. Collins, Hagar requested her to
+unpack, and arrange her wardrobe, and then proceeded
+to make her toilet. And Hagar resolving
+to look her best, to do honor to the first evening
+passed with her husband in their own home,
+arranged her beautiful ringlets in their most becoming
+fall, arrayed herself in rich amber-colored
+satin, and clasped topaz bracelets on her arms—rubies
+and topazes were the only jewels Hagar
+owned—the only ones in fact that her Egypt
+complexion would bear. Her present dress and
+ornaments harmonized beautifully with her dark
+complexion, while her jetty brows, black eyes
+and eye-lashes, and long, black, glittering ringlets,
+relieved the amber-hued complexion and
+dress from sameness. She descended to the
+drawing-room, at the door of which Raymond
+received her, led her smiling to the sofa, and
+took a seat beside her, just as the crimson curtains
+were drawn each side from the centre of the
+arch, exposing a small, but elegant supper-table,
+with covers for two. Raymond arose, and offering
+his arm again with a smile, said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You see I have to do all the honors of reception
+and introduction, dear Hagar;” and
+passing to the other room, placed her at the head
+of the table, before a glittering tea service of
+elegantly-chased silver, and of Sevres porcelain.
+“I see that you are wondering, Hagar, to find
+me in possession of a comfortable home; suspend
+your curiosity, dearest, until after supper,
+when I will make the very simple explanation.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>And after supper, when they were seated together
+in the drawing-room, he said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I am not wealthy, which is the second mistake
+which you have made about me; neither
+am I poor, as you supposed when you married
+me, dear girl. This house, just as it is, was the
+country-seat of my grandfather, General Raymond,
+who, holding a high office under the
+Government, was in the receipt of an ample
+income that enabled him to keep up this style of
+living. This income of course died with him.
+This house, with its grounds of about twenty-five
+acres, and a small amount of bank stock, was
+left to me. That money was withdrawn and
+profitably invested, and its proceeds bring me an
+annual amount equal to the salary I receive for
+conducting the Newton School. It is true that
+it will take every cent of my salary to support
+this style. And if you ask me, Hagar, why I, a
+young professor, choose to live in a princely
+house, with a complete establishment of servants,
+I tell you that it is not from ostentation—you
+know me to be too really proud for that—but
+from a constitutional love and necessity of luxury.
+I told you before that my senses were keen
+and delicate—I had almost said intellectual—not
+strong, or gross. Forms and colors must be
+agreeably contrasted, or harmoniously blended
+and grouped for my eye; sounds must be music,
+or those that are not must come subdued through
+the hushings of soft carpets and velvet curtains;
+all scents, but the scent of fresh and growing
+flowers, must be kept far from the rooms I occupy;
+my table must be supplied with food delicate
+and nutritious; and lastly, nothing but soft or
+elastic substances must come in contact with my
+touch—at least in my home.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But how, with your delicate tastes, can you
+bear your school-room?” asked Hagar.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“My school-room, lecture rooms, hall, &#38;c.,
+among which I pass just five hours a day, are
+each large, airy, clean, and <em>bare</em>; that is, bare
+of every article of furniture not strictly necessary;
+so that if there is nothing to <em>delight</em>, there is
+nothing to <em>offend</em>—for the rest, you know that
+teaching is my vocation, my passion. I give
+myself fully up to it during the hours of instruction,
+and when they are over, I return with revived
+relish for the luxuries of home—enjoyments
+that would pall upon the taste if they were not
+relieved by their absence during the hours of intellectual
+labor, which goes on in another place,
+and which is itself another keen enjoyment of a
+different and higher order; as it is, each relieves
+and enhances the other.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But why,” asked Hagar, “keep so many
+and such expensive servants, to wait on two
+young people who are not rich?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“For many reasons, Hagar; for one thing it
+requires all of them, each in his or her appropriate
+place, to keep the house in the perfect order we
+wish, and in the second, I like to receive the
+services and veneration—not of Colonel A, B,
+and C, or Judge D, E, or F, but of people who
+live with me—by the way, remember that, love.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But then,” persisted Hagar, “why keep Mrs.
+Collins, whose salary must be large?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“To oversee the others, and keep everything
+upon velvet, of course.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I could do that, dear Raymond.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But you shall not, dear Hagar. You are
+the lady of the mansion; but forget the house.
+I could not bear to see your brow corrugated by
+the thousand and one cares of housekeeping, or
+to have you come near me with the odor of pantries
+or stove-rooms hanging about you, for I
+should be sure to detect it through any disguise
+of perfume; and that is the great reason why I
+keep Mrs. Collins. You have nothing to do
+with the house, love. Cultivate your beauty,
+Hagar; refine it; you have nothing else to do,
+except to take lessons on the harp, which lessons
+and practice will help to fill up the hours of my
+<em>absence</em>, Hagar; for indeed, love, I think it would
+give me a brain fever to hear your unpractised
+fingers strumming discord in my ears.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Will you permit me to inquire,” asked Hagar,
+“why, with your sensitive, delicate, and
+luxurious tastes, you could fancy”—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Such a wild, dark little savage as yourself?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He raised her from the sofa, and turning
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_102'>102</span>around, faced the full length mirror that occupied
+the space between the two windows behind
+it.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Look at your reflection, Hagar,” her eyes
+and <em>color</em> raised at the same moment. “You
+are a little dark, sparkling creature, your effect
+is exhilarating. A languishing beauty in these
+languishing rooms would have been softness to
+flatness. Are not the perfumes more piquant
+when conveyed through the medium of spirits of
+wine? You are just <em>l’esprit</em> that gives life to all
+this soft luxury; and look again, Hagar—survey
+yourself—see, this amber dress and amber complexion
+suit well together; and this is harmony.
+Suppose your hair was of the same hue, then the
+<em>tout ensemble</em> would be dull, flat, wearisome.
+But your ringlets fall black and glittering upon
+the amber-hued neck and bosom, and this is
+contrast. Thus contrast and harmony form
+the perfection of your toilet.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I am sure I never thought of that,” said
+Hagar, “when wishing to do honor to your fine
+house I put on a fine dress: but now I suppose—though
+I do not care to have my mind skewered
+down to such trifles—I must think a little more
+of it, as I suspect that in this grand house you
+receive grand company sometimes.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Never</em>, Hagar; how do you suppose I could
+afford it? for if I received grand company I
+should be invited to grand dinners, and have to
+give them in return, and that would disturb the
+luxurious repose of our house and life—no, Hagar,
+I am too self-indulgent to be ostentatious,
+or even hospitable. I like everything upon
+velvet, all downy, reposing, silent, or breathing
+low music”—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Except me.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Not <em>always</em> excepting you—I like your spirit
+tempered a little—thus—look again into the mirror,
+Hagar; I said your glittering blue-black
+ringlets, smoothed and gemmed as they are, form
+an agreeable contrast to the harmony of your
+dress; but now suppose that black hair hung in
+the wild elf locks of the little savage of the
+heath, as I first knew her—would that be agreeable
+any way?—no—well! govern—as it were,
+smoothe and gem your piquancy; in a word, use
+your wildness as you do your hair,” and they
+turned and reseated themselves.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The next morning, after breakfast, Raymond
+took her all over the house; there were two
+floors besides the basement and attic—on each
+floor four large rooms handsomely furnished.
+Through the middle of each floor ran a hall,
+from front to back, dividing the rooms in pairs;
+on the lower floor on the left hand side of the
+hall were the drawing-room and dining-room we
+have seen them use on the first evening of their
+arrival; on the right hand side was a large saloon,
+once used for balls, but now closed as useless.
+He took her through the grounds, all
+handsomely laid out; a vineyard on the right, a
+kitchen garden in the middle, and an orchard on
+the left, occupying the ground behind the house,
+and further behind ascended the wooded hills.
+A smooth lawn descending the hill towards the
+river, was dotted here and there with trees, which
+were now dropping their leaves. The orchard
+was laden with the finest fruit—apples, peaches,
+pears, &#38;c., under the highest cultivation; the
+vineyard rich in clustering grapes, brought to the
+nearest possible state of perfection. This was
+Wednesday; on the following Monday Raymond
+resumed his professional labors, and Hagar wandered
+up and down the fine house, with every
+part of which she was now quite familiar, very
+weary and lonesome. She felt confined, restrained,
+and oppressed by her new state. True,
+she was still in the country, but not on her wild
+heath, with her horse and dogs. <em>This</em> country
+was thickly settled, well cultivated, and closely
+studded with gentlemen’s seats.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XXVI.<br> <span class='c009'>THE LOVE ANGEL.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“She is soft as the dew-drops that fall</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>From the lips of the sweet scented pea;</div>
+      <div class='line'>But then when she smiles upon <em>all</em>!</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Can I joy that she smiles upon <em>me</em>?”</div>
+      <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>Mackenzie.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>Our dear Sophie, with her quiet adaptiveness,
+had easily and gracefully passed from rustic life
+into city life, into naval life, without losing any
+of her individuality. Her country every-day
+dress of brown stuff was now changed for a
+brown satin, her seal-skin shoes for patent
+morocco slippers, and her muslin collar for one
+of fine lace. Her smooth brown hair, instead of
+being knotted into a neat twist behind her head,
+was arranged in a beautiful braid.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The inevitable knitting-needles <em>had</em> to be
+plied, in sad old hall or in gay new state room;
+they were a part of Sophie, and she could as
+well have dispensed with her fingers; they were
+necessary to keep time with the music of
+Sophie’s serene temperament—only now they
+knit silken nets and purses instead of woollen
+socks. This was all the change you could
+perceive in Sophie, looking at her half across
+the cabin; but if you went and sat down beside
+her, you would then see that her eye was bright,
+her cheek lively, and her lip fresh, with an
+inward and emanating joy. She sat quiet
+enough in her cabin, with Rosalia seated on a
+cushion by her side. Rosalia loved cushions
+and low seats, where she could sit and loll upon
+Sophie lazily and lovingly, like a petted baby-girl,
+as she was. And Sophie loved to have her
+there with her golden hair floating over her lap.
+Sometimes, tired of repose, Rosalia would bring
+out her portfolio or sketch book, embroidery
+frame or guitar, or pursue some of the thousand
+occupations by which girls contrive to destroy
+time. These were during the morning hours
+before it was time to dress for dinner, where
+Captain Wilde received daily, several of the
+officers. They (Sophie and Rosalia) were quiet
+enough, yet Captain Wilde seemed to be haunted
+with a fear that some hour he should wake from
+a dream, and find his happiness vanished into
+thin air, by the number of times while on deck,
+that he would come to the gangway, and looking
+down upon his treasures, exclaim gladly, “Oh!
+you are there!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Most frequently Gusty May made a third in
+the cabin, his impetuous mirth rattling along like
+thunder, and then suddenly smothered with a
+sigh like a big sough of wind in the sails, and
+sometimes darkened by great clouds between his
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_103'>103</span>eyes and nose that threatened rain; nay, sometimes
+as he looked at Rosalia’s serene joy
+the rain-drops would gather in his eyes—though
+I have an idea that Gusty would have challenged
+any man who would have told him so.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sometimes when the weather was inviting,
+Sophie and Rosalia, attended by Captain Wilde
+or Gusty May, or both, would visit the city.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Time glided swiftly away. Two weeks of
+Gusty’s visit were over, but three weeks remained
+before he would have to go to sea, and the
+clouds daily gathered thicker over the Gusty sky,
+when one day the young midshipman who had
+been appointed to take the post poor Gusty
+coveted so much, came on board for the first
+time. It was not in Gusty’s large, generous, and
+trusting soul, to be easily jealous, neither was
+it in his human nature to look indifferently upon
+the young officer, who, during his own absence,
+was to fill a post near the person of his beloved,
+so ardently desired by himself. The staff of
+officers on board the ship was small, consisting
+of Captain Wilde, Lieutenant Graves, a married
+man, solemn and repulsive as his name, a little
+freckle-faced midshipman, and now this new
+officer, this young passed-midshipman, this
+<em>Misther</em> Murphy, as Gusty maliciously emphasized
+his title, what was he going to look like?
+Gusty wished in his heart that he might be
+knock-kneed and cross-eyed. Alas for Gusty!
+Mr. Murphy, Mr. Patrick Murphy O’Murphy, a
+Southerner of Irish descent—stood six feet six
+inches in his boots! had the handsomest leg, the
+broadest shoulders, the fullest chest, the blackest
+whiskers, and the whitest teeth, in the service.
+Alas for Gusty! it was too much! he filled right
+up! he could have sobbed, gushed out, liquidated,
+deliquesced, fallen upon and overflowed
+the shoulders of the first friend that came in his
+way, but for his self-esteem that striking up
+through all this softness, stiffened and sustained
+him! Poor Gusty! he was in the briers until
+he could hear what Rosalia thought of “Mister
+Murphy,” yet he had an invincible repugnance to
+name him to her, and to ask her in so many
+words, what she thought of “Mr. Murphy”—<em>no!</em>
+<em>thumb-screws</em> would not have wrung such
+a question from him! nevertheless he must arrive
+at her opinion of “Mr. Murphy,” or die. Mr.
+Murphy had been presented to the ladies about
+half an hour before dinner, and had dined with the
+Captain. After the ladies had retired from the
+table and while the gentlemen still lingered over
+their wine, Gusty slipped away and followed
+them into the cabin. Sophie was away somewhere.
+Rosalia was alone. He went up to
+her, sat down, and drew her on a seat by his
+side. After all sorts of a desultory, wild, and
+nonsensical conversation, he suddenly said to her:</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Rosalia, do you like handsome men?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes,” said Rosalia, calmly, “I like handsome
+folks.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Pshaw! that is just like you. Who is the
+handsomest man now you ever saw in your life,
+Rosalia?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! <em>Captain Murphy, certainly</em>—far the
+handsomest person I ever saw in all my life!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“The d—l! I said so—Irish bog-trotter.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, don’t use profane language, dear Gusty,
+please.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Captain</em>, indeed, you simple girl—<em>he’s</em> no
+captain!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Ain’t he? I thought he was; indeed he <em>looks</em>
+like one.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, he looks like a prince, a king, an emperor,
+a demi-god, don’t he? Ain’t he like
+Apollo Belvidere, now?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, I think he is,” said Rose, quietly, “just
+my idea of the Apollo.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Set fire to him!” blazed Gusty.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! don’t swear—please don’t”—pleaded
+Rose. “Why do you not like him, dear Gusty?
+<em>I</em> do, I like him, and I am sure you ought to
+like him <em>because I do</em>—and you ought to be
+kind to him because, poor fellow! look at his
+melancholy blue eyes—”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! his melancholy blue devils!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! Gusty, hush!” said she, softly, putting
+her hand on his lips.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But this is too trying! I be <em>whipped</em> if it
+ain’t! I do believe the devil has taken my
+affairs under his own particular care! but I won’t
+put up with it! I be <em>whipped</em> if I do! I’ll call
+this fellow out!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Call him where?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Call him <em>out</em>! fight him! thrash him! jump
+through him—crush him—grind him—down into
+an ink spot, and then erase him!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What has he done to you, Gusty, that you
+hate him so, and he so beautiful, too?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Done to me!” snapped Gusty. “Oh, Rose,
+shut up! you are such a fool!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>This was too much for Rosalia—she had been
+growing softer every instant, and now melted
+into tears. Then Gusty’s indignation turned
+upon himself, called himself a barbarian, a brute,
+a monster, and begged Rosy to knock him down.
+Rose dried her morning dew tears and smiled
+again just as Sophie entered. A week passed
+away, and now but two weeks remained of the
+visit. A week, during which Gusty had contrived
+to circulate around his sun so rapidly and
+constantly as to prevent the comet Murphy from
+crossing his orbit. Still he was very unhappy
+in the idea of leaving his treasure unguarded—had
+serious thoughts of throwing up his commission—when
+one day on deck the young passed-midshipman,
+whom, by the way, he had treated
+very coldly at all times, placed himself by his
+side, and drawing his arm within his own, began
+to promenade the deck, saying,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Come, my fine fellow! I know all about it,
+and may be can do something for you. Wilde
+told me all about it—your love—and hopes, and
+disappointments, and everything. Now, I am
+going to perpetrate a real Irish blunder—going—what
+do you think—<em>to sea in your place</em>, and
+to let you stay here with this sweet girl—easy—easy,
+man! steady! so! hear me out. My
+father is a senator from the state of ——, is a
+particular friend of the Secretary of War. I
+have written to him to get our appointments
+reversed. Hush! hush! no gratitude, my <em>dear</em>
+fellow, it is all selfishness—<em>Irish</em> selfishness!”
+and his blue eyes and white teeth shone radiantly
+in the kind smile he turned upon Gusty, and
+Gusty, oh! his emotion, his joy, gratitude, and
+remorse, is <em>unreportable</em>!—no, not to be set
+down against him! At last, to moderate the
+raptures of his gratitude, blue eyes and white
+teeth assured him that <em>he</em> wished (blue eyes, &#38;c.,)
+particularly to visit the port of ——, whither the
+ship to which Gusty had been appointed, was
+bound, and that therefore he <em>had</em> a selfish reason
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_104'>104</span>for his seeming generosity. Later in the week,
+Gusty became the repository of a love-confidence
+from Midshipman Murphy. At the end of the
+week the appointments were reversed. Mr.
+Murphy was ordered to the Mediterranean, and
+Mr. May appointed passed-midshipman of the
+good ship Rainbow.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>These orders were received early one morning.
+In the afternoon Gusty and the young
+Irishman were on deck together. They were
+great friends, you may rest assured. The following
+conversation occurred. Rosalia had
+just left them. She had been conversing with
+Gusty with all her usual calm and guileless
+affection.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“It does me good to think that you will remain
+here with that sweet girl, May.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You’re a good fellow, Murphy. God bless
+you.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And you’re a <em>happy</em> fellow, May. God <em>has</em>
+blessed you.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Happy! yes, by Jove! I only wish you
+knew how devilish ‘happy’ I am,” said Gusty,
+with a bitter sneer.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why, what is the matter? jealous again,
+another rival?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, no! it is not that.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What is it then?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty had one great failing, an inability to
+keep his troubles to himself, a propensity to melt
+like a snow-drift in the sun at the first sympathy
+that shone on him.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“She is very fond of you,” said Mr. Murphy.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes! that is just exactly what troubles me.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Come! you are very reasonable!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! for the Lord’s sake don’t make fun
+of me! <em>don’t</em>! It is no jesting matter!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Poor fellow! how he is to be pitied because
+a sweet girl annoys him with her love.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“See here! now don’t! I can’t stand it.
+Love me? <em>Yes, she does.</em> She loves her old,
+poor blind nurse Cumbo—uncle’s Newfoundland
+dog, Juno, and <em>me</em> about in the same proportion,
+and in the same manner.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Whew-ew-w!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Fact</em> I am telling you—listen now again. I
+have watched her—<em>have I not?</em> She will
+caress <em>me</em> right before her aunt’s face, freely and
+calmly as though I were her grandmother—then
+dropping her arms from around my neck, she
+will call Juno and caress <em>her</em> with equal affection!
+and then my uncle, she always runs to
+meet him and throws herself in his arms when
+he comes! and yourself, you remember how she
+received you, with a gentle affectionate welcome,
+as though you were an accredited candidate for
+a share of her universal love.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Are you betrothed?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Certainly, these many weeks, and when I
+talk of marriage she blushes and smiles, it is
+true, but not with love! only with a bashful
+repugnance to make herself a prominent object
+of attention as a bride. Yet she tells me she
+loves me! Oh, yes, she loves me! and the next
+minute she will throw her arms around Juno’s
+neck and tell her she loves <em>her</em>! and with <em>equal
+fervor</em>. And if ever I complain to her that she
+does not love me, she weeps as though I did her
+an injury. Nearly three months have I spent
+in trying to kindle one spark, to touch one chord
+of responsive passion in her bosom. I have
+poured my whole soul forth at her feet, and she
+looks at me with her calm, sweet eyes, and
+wonders at me, I know she does, for a sort of
+Orlando Furioso, and drives me nearly distracted
+by insisting that she <em>does</em> love me, when
+I feel that she does <em>not</em>, or even know what she
+is talking about. I would give my commission
+to see her blush, tremble, shrink when I caress
+her—the devil of it is that she loves me like a
+baby loves her grandmother, nor does she dream
+of, nor can I awaken her to any other love!
+Her affections, her caresses are freely bestowed
+upon man, woman, child, or beast alike. I have
+never seen her shrink with averted eyes from the
+eye or conversation of but <em>one</em> man, and <em>that</em>
+was not in the first part of their acquaintance, it
+was only just before they parted, and now that I
+recall it, great God! it comes up before me in a
+new light,” said Gusty, in his impetuosity forgetting
+to whom he was talking—“they were
+standing where we now stand. I was near
+them. He was speaking to her of unimportant
+matters, the names of the ships, &#38;c., he was
+looking at her. I being on the other side of him
+could not see his eyes, but suddenly she raised
+<em>her</em> eyes. I felt that she met <em>his</em>—her color
+came and went, her bosom rose and fell, then
+turning around she held her hand out to me,
+with her face averted. I drew it through my
+arm and carried her off for a promenade. That
+hour I quietly ascribed her disturbance to bashfulness
+or fear, but <em>now</em> that I recall it in connexion
+with the subject of our conversation, a
+new, a dreadful light seems to break over it, but
+no! Oh, God! <em>that</em> would be too dreadful!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But what man was this, then?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty had suddenly grown quite white, and
+now the color rushed into his face, crimsoning
+his brow, and swelling the veins like cords.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What man was it, then, that possessed the
+power of agitating this calm beauty?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<span class='sc'>Don’t</span> ask me!” broke forth Gusty, “I am
+mad! Oh, it is just madness now for me to
+dream such horrors! stay, let me hold my
+head! Murphy, don’t mind <em>me</em>,—I am crazy!
+the girl’s coldness has just set me beside myself!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>They were silent some time, and then Gusty,
+suddenly seizing Murphy’s arm, exclaimed,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Murphy, forget all my raving, will you? I
+am a fool! I shall be jealous next of her embroidery
+frame!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>It was not so easy to forget his agitation during
+the half-confiding of the slight suspicion.
+The friends soon after separated.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty went into the cabin. He found Rosalia
+happy over a pair of doves, a parting present
+left for her by Mr. Murphy.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, Gusty,” she said, “come look at my
+beautiful young doves—this white one is a boy,
+and his name is Snowflake, and this silver-grey
+one is a girl, and her name is Dewdrop!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Umph! two new claimants for a few of the
+infinitesimal atoms of your divided heart,” said
+Gusty, sitting down beside her. He was indisposed
+for conversation,—he was feeling too bitterly
+that the profound heart of the beautiful
+and gentle girl was still unmoved.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Girls who virtually pledge their affections
+where they cannot love, do not so often commit
+this grievous error from the authority and
+commands of parents or guardians, from the persuasion
+of friends, from ambition, or for convenience,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_105'>105</span>as from a different, a more amiable, yet
+still more improper set of motives, inspired by
+benevolence and love of approbation—thus: A
+young girl, with the deeps of her heart yet undisturbed,
+becomes the object of an ardent admiration—her
+vanity is stimulated and gratified—she
+may even mistake this pleasure for affection, and
+from pure ignorance of her own and her lover’s
+nature, and of the misery she may bring upon
+herself and others, she continues to receive and
+encourage his attentions. His admiration deepens
+into love, then her pity is moved, and though
+she cannot return the affection, she cannot resist
+the suit, and the hand is bestowed without the
+heart. As far as my limited experience extends,
+I have reason to believe that benevolence, love
+of approbation, together with a want of firmness,
+mislead more girls into the formation of ill-considered
+engagements than any other set of causes
+whatsoever.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XXVII.<br> <span class='c009'>AGNES AND AGATHA.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“Oh, Heaven of bliss, when the heart overflows</div>
+      <div class='line'>With the rapture a <em>mother</em> only knows.”</div>
+      <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>Henry Ware.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>Something less than a year had passed since
+the settlement of Mr. and Mrs. Withers in their
+new home. It was now early autumn. Let me
+introduce you into that large, beautiful, and fragrant
+dressing-room into which Mrs. Collins had
+conducted our Hagar upon the first night of her
+arrival. The room wears the same pure and
+elegant appearance that it presented nearly a
+year since—nothing is changed, except by the
+addition of one article of furniture—near the
+right hand front corner of the room stands a
+large rose-wood crib, with beautifully embroidered
+thin white muslin curtains drawn around
+it. Let us draw back the curtains and look
+within—upon a downy pillow, covered with the
+finest, smoothest lawn, repose two babes of a
+few weeks old; we can only see their beautiful
+heads and faces, for their tiny forms are lightly
+covered by the white silk eider down quilt. But
+look at their sleeping faces, and tell me who
+they resemble—their fine blue-black hair looks
+like floss silk—we may be sure that their eyes
+are black by the slender eye-brows traced like a
+black pencil curve, and by the long black lashes
+that repose upon the crimson cheeks; look at
+the noble foreheads, at the elegant features; look
+at the delicate crimson lips, with the spirited
+curve of the upper one. They are our Hagar’s
+children! would you not have recognised and
+claimed them if you had found them in the
+wilderness? They are our Hagar’s twins—duplicate
+miniatures of herself—and now her bedroom
+door opens and she comes in, pacing slowly
+in an India muslin wrapper, with her ringlets
+glittering down as we used to see them; she
+comes and pauses softly, bending over the infant
+sleepers. Now, whether it is the reflection of
+the white muslin curtains, together with her
+white dressing robe, or whether her many months
+sedentary in-door life, and her recent illness had
+bleached her into a blonde, is not known; but
+certainly she is many shades fairer, and much
+thinner than when we saw her last; her carnation
+cheek has faded to a pale rose tint, her eyes
+are not so wild and bright, they are larger, sadder;
+instead of a lightning glance, they have
+now an earnest gaze; and see while she stoops
+over them till the ends of her bright ringlets rest
+upon the counterpane, her bosom heaves, her
+cheek flushes, her lips glow and open, her eyes
+grow bright and brighter, and her soul, pouring
+from her countenance, bathes the sleepers in a
+libation of love and blessing. How earnest her
+eyes are! how devotional her whole air, as her
+lips move in silent heart-worship! Now the
+passage door opened, and Raymond enters, going
+up to his wife’s side; he stood contemplating
+the children in silence, until she took his hand,
+and drawing his arm around her waist, turned
+and buried her face passionately in his bosom,
+while her ringlets fell over his circling arms.
+Then raising her head, she pointed to the sleeping
+infants, and exclaimed with enthusiasm,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Are they not beautiful, dearest?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, love, yes—but you have asked me that
+question every few days for the last month, and
+I have always answered you in the same words;
+when they grow ugly, love, I will tell you.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar’s eyes were again turned on her children—her
+soul was again bathing them with love.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Shall I not have to grow jealous of these
+little girls, who take up so much of your time
+and thoughts, love?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Jealous of these children? of these children
+who make me love you?” exclaimed Hagar,
+embracing him fervently. “Oh! my husband! so
+much more than ever I loved you before! they
+have deepened and widened my love. Ah, my
+own! my own Raymond—<em>try</em> my love now,
+and see how much stronger its texture is—it will
+bear a great deal of pulling now, Raymond—ask
+me to give up anything <em>now</em>, Raymond, and
+see if I make a fuss about my pride and dignity—my
+pride! as if I could set up a separate establishment
+of pride—and my dignity, as if I could
+not trust it in your keeping, Raymond, dear Raymond!—as
+if I <em>could</em> have a separate interest or
+a separate will—but you loved the unblessed
+maiden—will you not love more, a great deal
+more, the blessed mother—say, Raymond! say!”
+Her ardent soul, inspired by her passionate affections,
+was kindling into exalted enthusiasm, and
+glowing through all the features of her beautiful
+face; breaking through and bearing down all
+screens of reserve or pride. “Say, Raymond!
+say! oh, I love you so much now—I crave such
+a fulness of return—say, Raymond! say, how
+much more than the unblessed maiden do you
+love the doubly blessed mother?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“My Hagar!” said he, softly, “try to be calm,
+love; moderate your enthusiasm, get used to
+your joy; these children have been with you
+long enough for that.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Ah! but every time I look at them again a
+new joy breaks up from the bottom of my heart—just
+as though they were newly given me.
+And then to think that there are <em>two</em>—so perfectly
+beautiful—<em>two!</em> God not satisfied to give us
+<em>one</em>, gives us two. Oh, blessed be God! When
+I forget to thank, to worship Him, may these
+dear ones forget me. Two!” said she, panting,
+and taking breath, while her color came and
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_106'>106</span>went—“two love-angels!—and so perfectly beautiful—and
+so perfectly alike—and so loving!
+look, Raymond!” and she turned down the
+counterpane, “see, lay them as I will, in a few
+minutes they are sure to attract each other, to
+subside together, as it were, until shoulder touches
+shoulder and cheek meets cheek.” And then
+she placed their little hands together softly, without
+waking them, her lips parted and glowed
+over them an instant, she kissed them lightly
+and covered them again. “And oh, what a
+charge! God has given me two pure angels to
+guard from contamination! I must pray more;
+I must pray a great deal; I must get the Lord
+to take me into his confidence about these children,
+these cherubs. Oh, thank, dearest, thank
+the Lord for the gift of these two spotless angels,
+and pray, pray that we may be enabled to present
+them before his throne, pure as we received
+them from his hands.” Her face was inspired,
+was radiant with love, awe, and worship, as she
+continued, “I receive these babes as the deposit
+of a special trust from God; he has given me
+two of his own most beautiful children, shall I
+not try to be worthy of his confidence? Yes!
+yes! my two angels,” said she, bending over
+them again. “How beautiful are the works of
+his hands! Raymond, do but look how perfectly
+beautiful they are! These little black, silky
+heads; these fine brows and delicate features.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“They are very much like <em>you</em>, love.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“They are very much like each other.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“They are duplicate copies. I cannot tell
+one from the other by the closest examination.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Can you not, indeed, now—oh ! it is easy—I
+never made a mistake about them; this is Agnes
+and this is Agatha, you know.” And then she
+began to point out some infinitesimal marks of
+distinction, that none but a mother’s eye could
+possibly have detected. “Now do you not
+see?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I do not, love; you will have to dress them
+differently.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! never!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Or tie some badge upon the eldest, that I
+may know them apart,” smiled Raymond, shaking
+his head with all its golden waves.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And you are so handsome, Raymond!” exclaimed
+she, clasping his form, and burying her
+face again in his bosom. “And, oh! are we
+not happy? are we not God-blessed—are we not
+so entirely united—can we have an interest or a
+wish apart now? Oh, dearest Raymond, through
+all the ages of eternity you and I—are we not
+one?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Dear love, be quiet, you talk so much,”
+said he, softly and smilingly lifting her head from
+his bosom.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Talk! oh! how can I help it, dearest Raymond,
+when my God-given life and love grows
+too strong for suppression? I have seen the
+emotions of other women escape in quiet tears
+of joy, but I am not given to tears, you know;
+there is too much fire in my composition—oh!
+how can I help talking, Raymond? I <em>must</em>
+speak or consume, Raymond! Does not the
+horse neigh for joy when he feels his strong life—and
+what volumes of music, filling earth and
+sky, the little bird throws from his tiny chest for
+joy; the flowers bloom for joy; the trees <em>wave</em>
+for joy; the streams <em>run</em> for joy; the cataract
+leaps over its rocky precipice with a <em>shout</em> of
+joy; nay, the <em>earth</em>—the earth <em>whirls</em> around
+the sun in a reel of joy; and shall I, shall I with
+all this God-given life, this love, this joy, this
+gladness, this glory, kindling, burning, and glowing,
+striking up from my bosom—shall I suppress
+it? turning back to cold silence and ingratitude?
+No, Father. No, angels. No, husband. No,
+children. You shall <em>hear</em> how happy I am in
+the worship of joy!—in the worship of joy!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>You might see the fire of her ardent soul, as
+the flame glowed upon her lips, wavered over
+her crimson cheek, and shot in radiant glances
+from her eyes, as she spoke; now gazing with
+rapt inspiration on her children; now turning,
+and fervently embracing her husband, with a
+<em>pure</em>, though passionate love!</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You would make a good camp-meeting subject,
+love,” said he, smiling.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, Raymond, <em>now</em> I understand the enthusiasm
+of camp-meetings; the ecstasy of conversion.
+Say they sometimes fall, or seem to fall,
+from grace, from bliss; why that is human, that
+is natural; the spring sometimes backslides into
+winter for days, yet we do not upon that account
+deny the presence of spring, or the approach of
+summer; both seasons, summer to the year,
+sanctification to the soul—with all impediments,
+all relapses and collapses; all weaknesses and
+falls; all wanderings and retrogradings—still
+advance—on! and up! under the guidance of
+Divinity.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You are strangely changed, Hagar—not in
+your individuality, but in your proportions—from
+the positive of wild to the superlative of
+wildest.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I am not wilder. Oh, Raymond! my life is
+deeper, higher, broader, fuller—for these children,
+for these messengers from Heaven. Let my
+heart sing its song of joy. Oh, Raymond! when
+we are <em>un</em>happy, even when we ourselves have
+brought the unhappiness upon us, the calmest of
+us cry out in tones of grief, bitterness, and reproach,
+‘God! God!’ and no one complains of
+its extravagance! Shall we not, when we are
+blessed and happy, sing in tones of grateful rapture,
+‘God! God!’”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You must be quiet, love! be calm. I just
+looked in to bid you good morning before going
+out. Shall you be able to come down into the
+drawing-room this evening?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes,” replied Hagar, softly, and half abstractedly.</p>
+
+<hr class='c013'>
+
+<p class='c008'>The lamps were lighted in the drawing-room.
+Hagar was seated at her piano, practising a piece
+of new music. She was attired with taste and
+elegance in a crimson satin, that the coolness of
+the evening rendered appropriate at this season.
+Her hair was gemmed and braided so that the
+long ringlets held away from her cheeks and
+brow fell behind. In the first months of their
+marriage it had been Raymond’s pleasure to have
+her elegantly attired to receive him in the evening,
+and of late, it had grown into a habit and
+a necessity to herself. She sat now awaiting
+him. Presently he entered softly, and she arose,
+sprung, and then, with a sudden thought, controlled
+her eagerness, and went quietly to meet
+him. When he had saluted her, and they were
+seated, she blushingly unrolled a piece of manuscript
+music, and said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_107'>107</span>“See here, dear Raymond! I have got something
+here for you, something that you will like,
+something that you will glory in. I did not know
+until to-day that I could compose music; did
+not even suspect that I could; but to-day my
+soul has been so full of music, so bursting with
+music, that it has found expression! The hallelujahs
+of Christopher Smart, the very poet of
+worship, were resounding through my spirit ears;
+I wished to sing them, <em>had</em> to sing them. I
+came down here, and seating myself before the
+piano, struck the keys, and in a fit of inspiration,
+set them to music—here is the music. I could
+not do it again; and now the music is infinitely
+inferior to the words. Oh! the words are sublime—a
+splendid pageant—a magnificent march
+of grand and gorgeous imagery, that nothing but
+an intellect inspired by love, and exalted by
+worship to a power of conception and expression
+that men call insanity, could have produced.
+They called <em>him</em> mad! and shut him up in the
+narrow cell of a lunatic asylum, debarring him
+the use of books, pens, and ink; but even there
+the jubilant soul found expression. With a rusty
+nail upon the white-washed walls of his cell, he
+wrote his glorious ‘Song of David,’ worthy to
+be bound up with the psalms of David. It is
+from this song that I have taken out these words
+that I have set to music. Oh! how I wish some
+great master would set them. Hear my attempt,
+Raymond, and worship with me through the
+words.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She went and seated herself at the piano. He
+followed and stood leaning over her chair. She
+played an inspiring prelude, and then her voice
+broke forth in sudden rapture that filled with
+volume as it soared, until the very atmosphere
+seemed inspired with life, became sentient and
+vocal, and shuddered with the burden of the
+grand harmony it bore!</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c004'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>Glorious the sun in mid-career;</div>
+      <div class='line'>Glorious the assembled fires appear;</div>
+      <div class='line in8'>Glorious the comet’s train:</div>
+      <div class='line'>Glorious the trumpet and alarm;</div>
+      <div class='line'>Glorious the Almighty’s stretched-out arm;</div>
+      <div class='line in8'>Glorious the enraptured main:</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>Glorious the Northern lights astream;</div>
+      <div class='line'>Glorious the song when God’s the theme;</div>
+      <div class='line in8'>Glorious the thunder’s roar;</div>
+      <div class='line'>Glorious hosannas from the den;</div>
+      <div class='line'>Glorious the catholic amen;</div>
+      <div class='line in8'>Glorious the martyr’s gore:</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>Glorious, more glorious is the crown</div>
+      <div class='line'>Of Him that brought salvation down,</div>
+      <div class='line in8'>By meekness called thy son;</div>
+      <div class='line'>Thou that stupendous truth believed,</div>
+      <div class='line'>And now the matchless deed’s achieved,</div>
+      <div class='line in8'><span class='sc'>Determined</span>, <span class='fss'>DARED</span>, and <span class='fss'>DONE</span>.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c008'>The music shuddering, fell into silence. She
+remained rapt in ecstasy long after the last notes
+subsided, and until Raymond, laying his hand
+softly on her head, said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hagar! this will not do, love; you excite
+yourself too much—the action is too high—your
+system is getting to be all blood—fever—fire.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! is it not grand, this song? Does any
+psalm of David transcend it; does any hymn of
+Watts come up to it?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“It is grand, sublime, stunning—and I do not
+like to be stunned, you know, love! Besides, I
+am afraid you are not very far from the state
+and fate of its author, wild Hagar! wild in your
+love, wild in your worship, and wild in your devotions,
+as once in your mad revels. Will you
+never grow tame? Never, I believe unless your
+heart be broken.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And must the poor heart be knocked on the
+head, before it can behave itself to please people?
+That was the song of boding ever sung to me by
+Sophie and by Emily, when I grew too happy to
+contain myself. Now, why must my heart be
+broken? What harm has it done that it must
+be broken? The Lord will not break it, I feel
+sure; nay, if my fellow creatures in their error
+break it, my Father will bind it up again. But
+now, then, dear Raymond, what does it all
+mean?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“It means, Hagar, that by a happy exemption
+from illness, grief, or temptation, in fact from
+all the common miseries of human nature, you
+have grown arrogant in your joy, and hence your
+jubilant spirit.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Have</em> I been so exempted! ‘The heart
+knoweth its own bitterness;’ but I will not recall
+past human wrongs, in the midst of present Divine
+blessings.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Your past wrongs, like your present blessings,
+are greatly exaggerated by imagination,
+Hagar—but here is supper,” said he, arising and
+giving her his arm, just as the crimson curtains
+were noiselessly withdrawn from the arch, displaying
+the glittering service awaiting them.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>This was the last day of Hagar’s Worship of
+Joy. The Baptism of Grief—the Worship of
+Sorrow—did she dream that such could be?</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XXVIII.<br> <span class='c009'>CLOUDS.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“Life treads on life, and heart on heart,</div>
+      <div class='line'>We press too close in church and mart,</div>
+      <div class='line'>To keep a dream or grave apart.”</div>
+      <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>Elizabeth B. Barrett.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>The next evening when Raymond returned
+home, he placed in the hands of his wife an open
+letter, addressed to herself in Sophie’s hand-writing.
+A year ago, Hagar would have fiercely
+resented this cool violation of her seal—now her
+soul was too large and joyous to cavil about her
+personal dignity, or even to think about it at all.
+Pressing and kissing the hand that brought her
+the letter, she sat down to read it. It was
+short. Our dear Sophie was no scribe. It ran
+thus:</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-r c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“<span class='sc'>U.S. Store Ship Rainbow</span>,</div>
+      <div class='line in12'>“October 13th, 18—.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c017'>“<span class='sc'>Dearest Hagar</span>,—We, Augustus and myself, wish
+you and Raymond much joy of your young daughters.
+We gladly accept your affectionate invitation to visit
+you, and shall be with you on the first of November.
+Not, however, as you kindly insist upon our doing, to
+remain with you for any length of time. The fact is,
+that Captain Wilde is ordered to the Mediterranean;
+and as I have no babies to prevent me, I am going out
+with him: it is his wish, and <em>mine</em>. We cannot take
+Rosalia with us, because being still ‘afraid of the water,’
+she refuses to go. Gusty has been ordered to the
+same service, and will sail of course at the same time.
+He will accompany us on our visit to you, as also of
+course will Rosalia. If you can keep Rosalia, we wish
+to leave her with you—if not, we shall be compelled to
+take the dear girl to the South, and place her in charge
+of her future mother-in-law, Emily Buncombe. In
+either case, Captain Wilde wishes to be held responsible
+for her board and all other expenses—as we have
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_108'>108</span>resolved to leave her small patrimony untouched, to
+accumulate at compound interest. Once more accept
+our heartfelt congratulations, and believe me always</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-r c015'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“Your affectionate aunt,</div>
+      <div class='line in8'>“<span class='sc'>Sophie Wilde</span>.”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>Hagar’s hands, with her letter, dropped upon
+her lap, and she fell into thought.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You will write by the return mail, and accept
+the charge of your cousin, Hagar?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Y-es,” said she, “certainly”—but a shadow
+fell upon her brow.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He did not observe it, or appear to observe it,
+and continued, “And <em>when</em> you write, Hagar,
+give them gently to understand that their hint
+concerning the payment of board was a little
+impertinent, to say the <em>least</em>, even if it were not,
+as I hope and wish to believe it <em>was</em> not, a piece
+of intentional arrogance on the part of Captain
+Wilde.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I can tell them it was unnecessary. But I
+am sure no arrogance was meant or felt—how
+could they be arrogant towards <em>us</em>! If they
+spoke to us of payment, they made the mistake
+in the simple, straightforward spirit of their
+hearts, unsuspicious of the chance of giving offence;
+but,” said she, pondering, “I wonder
+when Rosalia and Gusty are to be married.
+Sophie has not given me the least idea of the
+time.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Rosalia is yet too young, not quite seventeen,
+I believe; and Gusty not yet twenty—<em>both</em> are
+too young; three years from the time of their
+engagement, that is two years hence, was the
+period assigned for their marriage, was it not?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes,” said Hagar, still in thought.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“That is, if the young lovers remained in the
+same mind?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes,” said Hagar, and then, suddenly, she
+exclaimed, “You recollect these details better
+than I do; you have a good memory, Raymond.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I always plead guilty to the charge, love.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar fell deeper into thought, then sank into
+gloom. Was it the natural reaction of so much
+and such great excitement? Was it the rational
+sorrow at the thought of soon parting with
+Sophie, knowing her to be bound for a long and
+perilous sea voyage? Was it either or all these
+causes combined, that oppressed her heart and
+darkened her countenance?</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Reader, it was none of these things. A
+dread of the winsome beauty’s approach, a dread,
+not reasonable enough to justify her in opposing
+the measure—a dread for which she blamed
+herself, yet a dread that she could not shake off—a
+dread that fell dark on her brow, and struck
+cold to her bosom. A deep, up-piercing instinct;
+will it rise through the stages of doubt, suspicion,
+to jealousy in all its phrensy? The sin sown
+and nurtured by the wrongs of her neglected
+infancy, her besetting sin and sorrow—not dead,
+but long coiled in serpent-torpor in the bottom
+of her heart now revives, now rears its head.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Come, love, write your letter now before
+tea, so that it may go out in this evening’s mail,”
+were the words that aroused her from her abstraction,
+and she arose and left the room to do his
+bidding.</p>
+
+<hr class='c013'>
+
+<p class='c008'>Immediately on rising the next morning, Hagar
+had, as usual, thrown on her dressing-gown and
+gone to the side of the crib to gaze upon her
+sleeping beauties. She bent over them in her
+morning beauty, with her black hair escaping
+from the little lace <em>coiffe de nuit</em>, and dropping
+in shining rings around her—she bent over them
+breathing her morning blessing, when her husband,
+having completed his toilet, came in and
+sank into an easy chair on the opposite side. He
+sat there looking at her very intently some
+minutes; at length he said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hagar, you are pale this morning.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Am I?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, and you lose flesh daily.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Do I?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Do you not <em>perceive</em> that you do?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, indeed, I never thought of it.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, you never thought of it, mind and body
+are alike absorbed, entirely absorbed by one object—the
+nursing of your children; flesh and
+beauty, health and life are leaving you unnoted,
+these children are killing you.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“These! these dear children, Raymond? Oh,
+do not bring such a charge against these sleeping
+innocents. They give me life and joy, the
+angels!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“There, love! do not go off into raptures this
+morning, I do implore you. Yes, Hagar, they
+are killing you; you are very delicate, always
+were, and within the last few weeks you have
+lost flesh and color very rapidly; the nursing
+of these two children is too great a draught
+upon your strength, it will break down your
+health.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But, dear Raymond, you are mistaken. I
+am well and strong! thank God! <em>indeed</em> I am.
+It is true that I am thin, I always <em>was</em>. I never
+was calm enough to get fat, but I do not think
+that want of flesh argues want of health <em>always</em>—in
+me I <em>know</em> it does not. I have sound, unbroken
+health. I never had an ache or a pain
+in all my life—oh! except once,” she said, laughing
+and blushing—“nor even a feeling of
+languor. Fatigue after violent and long-continued
+exercise has only been a slight weariness
+soon agreeably lost in repose. God clothed my
+spirit in a good strong garment, and I have
+treated it well; though I have worn it every
+day, it is as fresh and new as a Maryland girl’s
+best Sunday frock.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“They are killing you, nevertheless, Hagar, I
+say! Your features are growing sharp, your
+hands,” and he took her delicate hand in his
+own, “your hands are nearly transparent, amberlike,
+and indeed the knuckles are growing prominent—come!
+Hagar, dear, you are growing
+ugly as well as ill, and, Hagar, it will not do.
+There is a feverishness in your manner also that
+is not healthful. Your devotion to these children
+is destroying you, and it must be moderated.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She looked at him with an expression of
+anxiety striking up through her brilliant eyes
+piercingly. He continued,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And, Hagar, it must be arrested.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“How? why? in what manner? in what degree?
+What <em>do</em> you mean?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I mean, love, that you must procure a substitute.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“A—<em>substitute</em>,” repeated she.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, love, that is to say you must put the
+children out to nurse.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Put them—put my two babies out to nurse—away
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_109'>109</span>from me,” faltered the young mother,
+growing very pale.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, love, it is not an unusual thing among
+ladies in this section of the country—ladies especially
+of delicate organization as yourself; and
+in this case of <em>two</em> children, Hagar, it is too
+much for you, and must not be thought of. Do
+not look so distressed, dear, it will be better for
+<em>you</em>, and better for them. Mrs. Collins will find
+some healthy and reliable woman who will be
+willing to take charge of them at a reasonable
+compensation, and who can be required to bring
+them often to see you. She must attend to it
+to-day. Come, Hagar, do not look so dejected;
+in a day or two you will grow accustomed to it,
+and be contented with knowing that they are
+well.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>And he arose and was sauntering away. Now
+all the blood rushed back to her face, and starting
+up she caught his hand and drew him back
+to the side of the crib. Her bosom was heaving
+and setting, the color flashing in and out upon
+her cheek, but she controlled herself by a great
+effort, as, pointing to the children, she said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You do not love babies, Raymond; no, not
+even your <em>own</em>, not even these beautiful cherubs;
+alas! I have not <em>that</em> to learn now! but, Raymond,
+<em>I</em> love them as the tigress loves her young,
+and as the soul loves her angels, and soul from
+body could be severed with less of pain and less
+of regret than these children from my bosom.
+Raymond, I know your indomitable strength of
+will; alas! I have not <em>that</em> to learn either! I
+know your persevering inflexibility of purpose,
+and the power of carrying your purpose into
+effect. I know that when you make a proposition,
+or express a wish, you virtually <em>give a command</em>!
+and one you mean to have obeyed. I
+know all this, and I know, Raymond, your
+power of torturing me, do I not? I know that
+this hour is opened a controversy between us in
+which <em>you</em> will never yield, never to my <em>opposition</em>,
+never to my prayers; never, unless I can
+awaken your parental love. Oh! Raymond,
+where in your soul slumbers this parental love—<em>sleeps</em>
+your parental love in such a death-like
+sleep that the innocence and beauty of these
+children cannot awaken it—look at your children,
+Raymond, and withdraw your proposition,
+your command rather!” pleaded Hagar, with
+clasped hands and straining eyes. “Do not
+separate this beautiful little family, this perfect
+little family that we four form.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He composedly resumed his seat, looking
+quietly at her while she spoke; when she had
+ceased, he said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hagar, I make you a proposition, give you
+what I think a sufficient reason, and you answer
+me with a torrent of sentimental rhapsody; now
+have you said all that you have to say in opposition
+to my wishes? Come, I await your reply.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘Said all I have to say!’ Oh, I could talk
+a month, a year, until time exhausted the subject,
+if it would convince you.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But it will not, as you rightly guess, my love,
+for now what does it all amount to, after all that
+you may have to say, is said? The question
+simply resolves itself into this: whether you will
+comply with my wishes, or defy the consequences
+of a non-compliance.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She dropped her head upon the side of the crib,
+and remained silent for some moments, and then,
+without raising it, she said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Raymond, please tell me <em>why</em>, give me some
+reason for your wish to have the children sent
+away?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Your health and beauty are decaying.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But they are not!—they are not! You are
+<em>utterly</em> mistaken. God knows that you are!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You are feverish and excitable.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Not feverish—it is the overflowing exuberance
+of health and joy!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Come, love! contradict me in everything I
+say, of course. There is one thing, however, too
+harassingly plain to be covered; it is <em>this</em>—your
+suite of private apartments is converted into a
+nursery, of which you have constituted yourself
+chief nurse. I have borne with this for five or
+six weeks, Hagar, and now it is growing insufferable,
+and I must have a change, <em>will</em> have a
+change, love! So reconcile yourself to the temporary
+loss of these children as well as you
+can. They are to be sent away for <em>their own</em>
+sakes as well as for yours. <em>They</em> must have a
+stout, hearty nurse, and <em>you</em> must be relieved
+of their care; you must get flesh and beauty
+again.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Oh, the immense power of resistance that was
+rising and throbbing as though it would break
+through Hagar’s chest! Yet she suppressed its
+violent outbreak; she wished now, above all
+things, to secure her place in her husband’s affections;
+she would have yielded anything on
+earth to his wishes now, except this; nor did she
+understand his apparent indifference to their
+children.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>With a sudden impulse she threw herself in
+his arms, and amid kisses and caresses implored
+him to spare her the anguish of this trial. Smilingly
+he returned her caresses, smilingly he refused
+her prayer, and smilingly withdrew himself
+from her clasp, and was sauntering away, leaving
+her pale and trembling, when again she recalled
+him with a gesture. He returned.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Where are you going now, Raymond?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“To charge Mrs. Collins with this same business
+of procuring a nursing-place for the children.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Do not so misconceive me, Raymond; if I
+am now pale and weak, it is by a foretaste of
+all I know that I must suffer in opposing your
+wishes—for, Raymond, I <em>must</em> oppose them—I
+have no choice; none! I cannot put these
+children from my bosom—<em>can</em> not; you must
+know it.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“We shall see, love!” said he, with a beautiful,
+but mocking smile, as he left her side.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Ah, I know your power of torturing me,
+Raymond—know it too well—but I must brace
+myself to bear it in this instance.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Half an hour after she met him at breakfast.
+He wore his usual air of elegant ease. He did
+not resume the conversation of the dressing-room,
+and when he saw that <em>she</em> was about to speak of
+the subject, he arrested her by saying, emphatically,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hagar, love, I will not have one word of
+controversy with you upon <em>this</em> or any other
+subject—I dislike conflict. You either will or
+will not comply with my wishes; without being
+subjected to any action in the matter yourself
+you will, in the course of the week, have an opportunity
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_110'>110</span>of submitting to, or rebelling against,
+my will in this matter.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>And Hagar was silenced. A few days passed,
+with no perceptible change in Raymond’s manner,
+and the subject was not again mentioned
+between them. Hagar’s secret uneasiness was
+perpetually betraying itself, and its expression
+continually repressed by the will of Raymond.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>At length she grew to hope that this project
+was abandoned, when one day a respectable-looking
+woman presented herself at the door, inquiring
+for Mrs. Withers. She was shown up
+into Hagar’s dressing-room. She introduced
+herself as Mrs. Barnes, the person Mr. Withers
+had engaged to take the charge of the twins, if
+Mrs. Withers should approve her. Hagar received
+the woman with kindness, but told her
+that she had no intention of parting with her
+children now, or as long as her life and health
+held out. The woman assured her that she possessed,
+and could produce, the highest credentials
+of respectability, capacity, &#38;c. Hagar assured
+her that her objection was not particular, but
+general; that she could never resign the children
+to the care of any one; that Mr. Withers’s too
+great care for her health had induced him to
+mention the plan to her, but that she had declined
+it. Mrs. Barnes seemed difficult to be
+convinced that Hagar’s refusal did not arise from
+personal objections to herself; but at last took a
+reluctant leave. With her knowledge of his
+character and disposition, Hagar dreaded the
+return of Raymond that evening. With the wish
+to please him, and to disarm his resentment, she
+arrayed herself charmingly, and had everything
+prepared agreeably to his tastes and wishes, and
+awaited him in the drawing-room as usual. He
+came in, smiling, with his usual graceful saunter,
+just as the servants brought in the tea; the curtains
+were up from the arch, so that the two
+rooms were thrown into one. He met her as
+usual, and they sat down at the table apparently
+with their usual cheerfulness and affection. <em>He</em>
+seemed more than usually attentive to her wants.
+At last she said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I have seen the woman you sent me for a
+nurse.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, love, I know it; she has reported to me
+her rejection.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>This was said in a tone of cheerful content
+that entirely dissipated Hagar’s anxiety; her spirits,
+rebounding, arose, and she was happy.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The servants were, however, in attendance,
+and further conversation on the subject ceased.
+Presently they arose from the table and passed
+into the drawing-room.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Shall I give you some music?” said Hagar,
+taking up her guitar. “I have been practising
+one of those low, lulling strains that I know
+you like—shall I give it you?” and she sank
+into a velvet chair and began to tune the instrument.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You shall give me nothing—not a song, not
+a caress, not a word, when we are alone, until
+you give me your <em>will</em>. If I have condescended
+to answer your questions at table, it was to prevent
+servants from talking.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He was standing before her in his dazzling
+beauty, looking down upon her with an audacious
+assertion of invincible power of attraction
+and torture striking up through the brilliant softness
+of his eyes, hovering around the beautiful
+curves of his lips, and irradiating his whole countenance.
+Hagar turned away, veiling her eyes
+with her jewelled fingers, while she rested her
+head upon her hand. When she looked up
+again he was gone. He did not reappear that
+evening. It was the first evening they had spent
+apart. Unwilling to give him any new cause
+of offence she had remained in the drawing-room
+until their usual hour for retiring, when she at
+length sought her own chamber. He came up
+after a while with his usual gay and graceful
+nonchalance of manner, but without noticing
+her by word or look until she spoke to him;
+then he turned and flashed upon her a smile,
+beautiful even in its taunting scorn, that called
+the indignant blood in flames to her cheeks and
+brow, and she became silent. Thus days passed.
+He knew how to torture her. At table—at the
+time the embargo was taken off their conversation—ostensibly
+to deceive the servants, really
+to afford him an opportunity of tantalizing her
+by the fascination, he assumed his usual manner
+of affection. Thus weeks passed, until the time
+approached for the arrival of their visitors. One
+evening he came home and threw a letter in her
+lap; it was directed in the hand-writing of Sophie.
+<em>This</em> seal was <em>not</em> broken; she almost
+wished it had been; she opened it. It contained
+but a few lines from Sophie, informing her that
+their party would be at The Rialto the next
+morning. She held her letter out to her husband,
+but he, with a taunting smile and graceful
+gesture of the hand, declined her confidence. A
+sickening faintness came over her. An unwillingness,
+nay, a strong and growing repugnance
+to the idea of meeting any of her friends—for
+whom, indeed, she had never possessed any very
+strong affection—just at the time she was suffering
+mortal anguish by this estrangement from
+her husband—a dread of the approach of the
+fair and gentle girl—her rival from infancy—a
+fearful presentiment of falling still lower in his
+esteem by the side of the loving and love-winning
+Rosalia, these causes all conspired to tempt,
+to overpower her; she arose, and falling upon
+his shoulder, with her hair dropping all over him,
+with a bursting sob, exclaimed,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Raymond! oh, <em>do</em> make up with me! I
+suffer <em>so</em> much! <em>so</em> much from the loss of your
+love! If I could <em>weep</em> and expend a portion of
+my grief—if I could <em>swoon</em> and lose consciousness
+of it—<em>sleep</em> and forget it—<em>die</em> and leave it—<em>go
+mad</em> and defy it—I should suffer less! I can
+do <em>neither</em>—since I am not soft and weak! I am
+strong and hard—and the strong live through and
+suffer tortures that the weak would <em>die</em> under, and
+so escape! Yet the weak have all the sympathy,
+while the sufferings of the strong are not credited
+because not manifested. Raymond! oh,
+make up with me. I shall—not <em>die</em>—but suffer
+more than death if you do not! I am exiled—take
+me home to your bosom—to my home in
+your bosom again, Raymond!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He supported her on his arm, and smiled
+down a flash of triumphant love into her face,
+lighting a smile in <em>her</em> countenance, too! She
+raised her hand, passing it gently around his
+neck to the back of his golden head, and drew
+his face down to meet hers; but with a quick
+and graceful toss, waving all his curls, he released
+his head, and smilingly inquired,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And so you lay down your arms, and strike
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_111'>111</span>your colors, my beautiful rebel? You subscribe
+to all required articles in my treaty of peace?
+In a word, you will place confidence in my
+ability to take care of you, and follow my advice
+in the management of our children?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She did not reply. The smile faded from
+her countenance. He continued,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You will place our children where they can
+receive better care than you can possibly bestow
+upon them.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She opened her mouth to speak—he arrested
+her purpose by placing his hand softly and
+smilingly on her lips, as he whispered,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Stop!—no more arguments—no more controversy—no
+more talk about health, strength,
+and ability—about maternal love and duty—<em>not
+one word</em>, dearest! I did not bring you here,
+my beauty, for debate and opposition, but for
+harmony, love, and joy. So, in one word,
+Hagar, do you yield or maintain your opposition?—yes,
+or no.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I cannot! cannot!” groaned Hagar.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He raised his arm, slowly stretching it out
+from the shoulder, while he turned away his
+head, and gently, but firmly and steadily repulsed
+her, pushing her quite away, saying,
+calmly, as she sank upon the sofa—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Any overtures for a reconciliation, Hagar,
+must in future be prefaced by the unconditional
+surrender of this point.” And he leisurely sauntered
+from the room. Not one word was exchanged
+between them, from that moment until
+the next morning at the breakfast-table, when
+he said—“If you are not going to use the carriage,
+Hagar, I will send it to meet your relatives—it
+is nearly time for the morning boat to
+pass.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I do not want it,” said Hagar, and the brief
+conversation dropped.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He soon after left the house, merely mentioning
+as he went out, that he should be home to
+dinner at four. In half an hour from this the
+carriage was dispatched to the steamboat landing—at
+the same time that Hagar went into her
+room attended by Mrs. Collins, to dress her
+twins for exhibition to her expected relatives.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Following the bent of her delicate poetic
+fancy she would never dress them in anything
+but white, of the finest and softest material—nor
+ever place about them coral, amber, or gold, or
+any hard or heavy substance; and when she
+had dressed them, very lovely they looked with
+their little black, silky heads, and small features
+full of soft repose, as she laid them to sleep in
+the crib, so that they might wake up bright and
+beautiful when Sophie should arrive. But a
+deep-drawn sigh chased the smile from the
+young mother’s face, as she looked upon her
+treasures, writhing in the thought that the duties
+of the wife and mother should ever be supposed
+to conflict—that the happiness of the wife and
+mother should ever be placed in opposition.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Then Hagar arranged her own dress, and
+sighed again to observe by her mirror how haggard
+she was looking—knowing this to be the
+effect not of her maternal devotion, as Raymond
+insisted, but of wasting anxiety caused by his
+tantalizing alternate affection and coldness—by
+her nights without sleep, and days without appetite,
+and consequently without nourishment.
+She had even to gather away from her face her
+beautiful ringlets; their falling, long and black,
+each side of her pale thin face, increased its
+pallor by contrast, while they gave it a hatchetlike
+sharpness. She had just completed her
+unsatisfactory toilet, when the roll of carriage
+wheels on the gravel walk leading to the house,
+the ring of the street-door bell, and soon the
+hushed sound of several softly mingling voices
+in the hall, announced to her the arrival of her
+guests. She hurried down to receive them. To
+receive them! They received <em>her</em> in their full
+affection rather! for soon as gliding down the
+broad staircase, she saw the group advancing
+in the amber-hued light of the hall, she felt herself
+caught to the soft bosom of Sophie, while
+the arms of Rosalia were folded around her.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Run here, uncle! give us your hands,” exclaimed
+Gusty May, holding out both his hands
+to Captain Wilde, who caught them, and they
+laughingly formed a ring round the three women,
+clasping them all together in a close embrace.
+Sophie smilingly loosened the knot, dispersing
+the group; and Hagar giving her hand to Captain
+Wilde, and then to Gusty, opened the
+drawing-room door, showing them in—begging
+them to excuse her absence and amuse themselves,
+while she showed Sophie and Rosalia to
+their rooms. Then as she turned to attend
+them, Rose’s arms were around her again, and
+she said as they went up stairs,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And so you have two babies, Hagar! dear
+Hagar! Show them to us quickly. I do want
+to see them so much. I shall love them so
+dearly. I have done nothing but embroider
+caps and frocks for them since you wrote to us
+about them; so glad I was to have two dear,
+dear baby-cousins to sew for. Now I have
+come to be your nursery maid, Hagar, dear Hagar;
+not a useless parlor-figure, but your little
+nursery maid.” So warbled the affectionate girl
+in her bird-like tones, while Hagar, won by her
+loving enthusiasm, turned and caressed her.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>I said the house on each floor was divided by
+a broad central hall. The rooms on the right
+hand, first floor, were those of Hagar and Raymond,
+those on the left hand had been fitted up
+for the reception of their visitors. Hagar conducted
+them into their apartments; and when
+they had laid off their bonnets, brought them into
+her own room, to see the children. Their little
+nap was over, and the babies had waked up fresh
+and bright. Rose raised one, softly, tenderly,
+as though she were afraid of its falling to pieces
+even in her gentle hands; and Sophie took up
+the other. Rosalia went into her gentle love
+ecstasies over them, and even our serene Sophie
+was enthusiastic in her admiration of the children’s
+remarkable beauty.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But I should never be able to know the one
+little black-haired darling from the other,” said
+Sophie.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>And so said Rosalia.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Put your finger on the cheek of Agnes—now
+upon the cheek of Agatha; don’t you perceive
+that Agnes has firmer muscle, and, therefore,
+I think a stronger constitution than her
+sister.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I am not sure that I can detect the difference,”
+said Sophie.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Rosalia declared that <em>she</em> could, and that she
+should never make a mistake between the babies.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Raymond returned at four in the afternoon.
+He met his relatives with his habitual air of
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_112'>112</span>graceful gaiety. The evening passed in social
+festivity and cheerfulness. Captain Wilde and
+Mr. Withers were, or seemed very gay. Sophie
+and Rosalia serenely joyous. Gusty, boisterous.
+Hagar’s manner was restless and gloomy. Sophie
+at last perceived this, and lost her own
+cheerfulness; and soon after, as they were
+grouped around a table, examining some fine
+prints, Hagar felt her arm grasped tightly from
+behind, and Raymond’s voice in her ear, muttering
+low and quickly,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You are making your well merited wretchedness
+apparent to Sophie—be more natural;
+for as God in Heaven hears me, if by word, look,
+or gesture you reveal your miseries, making me
+a subject of speculation to these people—you
+shall suffer for it in every nerve of your body to
+the last day of your life,” and he let go her arm.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Her cheek flushed, and her eye brightened with
+pleasure,—yes, with <em>pleasure</em>. To hear him
+break the death-like silence that even amidst
+general conversation reigned in her heart—to
+hear him speak to her alone, close to her ear,
+even <em>harsh</em> words, seemed like a renewal of
+their confidential relations—seemed the more so
+because they <em>were</em> harsh words, because they
+expressed a command at last with which she
+could comply—conveyed a threat which implied
+a position, a right not yet abandoned; it
+was more <em>husband</em>-like, and she nestled closer
+under his shoulder, and taking the hand, the very
+hand that had grasped her arm, she stole it behind
+her, around her waist, as she whispered,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Dearest Raymond, how could you think that
+I would willingly betray uneasiness—have I been
+gloomy? I will be so no longer—you shall see—dear
+Raymond, smile on me—say <em>one</em> gentle
+word to me; my heart has been starving—even
+the bitter bread was welcome—give me a sweet
+word, Raymond!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Don’t be ridiculous,” were the sweet words
+granted to her prayer, as he withdrew his arm,
+and turned gaily to make a remark about a picture
+to Rosalia, fascinating the gentle girl’s attention
+by his brilliant smiles and glances. Hagar
+observed this, and her evil in ambush, her strong
+waylaying foe, began to give her trouble; nevertheless
+she struggled against its manifestation, and
+strove to assume cheerfulness, feeling that now
+was not the time to alienate him by offence.
+Her manner changed—flashing fitful lightnings
+of forced mirth across the dark gloom of her
+prevailing mood. Hagar was no actress—<em>this</em>
+was worse than before! and soon she caught the
+eyes of Raymond fixed upon her—a dire menace
+striking out through their softness, and perceiving
+her failure, she grew alternately more gloomy
+and excited as the evening advanced—so that
+every one, even the simple-hearted Rosalia,
+noticed it, and turning her dove eyes on Raymond
+to read the explanation on his face, saw
+there the calmness of his superb brow, and set
+him down as the blameless and injured party.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The family party broke up at an early hour.
+The ladies left the room first, and Hagar,
+accompanied by Sophie, attended Rosalia to the
+chamber appropriated to her use, and after seeing
+the timid girl in bed, and promising that the
+housemaid should sleep on a pallet in the room
+with her, because she was afraid “to stay in the
+dark alone,” they passed out into the next room,
+the front room, which was Sophie’s chamber.
+Hagar setting the candle upon the dressing-table,
+was about to bid her good night, when
+Sophie, taking her hand, detained her, looked
+earnestly, steadily, in her haggard face, and
+passing her arm around her waist, drew her up
+in a close but sad embrace, and said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hagar, my poor girl, what is the matter; are
+you ill in body or mind, or both?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I am well,” said Hagar, withdrawing herself
+from her arms.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yet I never saw you look so wretchedly,
+act so strangely in my life; what is the cause?
+<em>Do</em> tell me, and let me see if I can aid you by
+sympathy or advice.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You can do me no good,” said Hagar,
+pausing in perplexity a moment, as Sophie still
+held her hand and gazed pleadingly in her
+anguished countenance, “and Sophie, do not, if
+you please, take any further notice of my looks;
+is it not natural, by the way, that I should look
+rather thin after my illness, and with the care of
+two infants?” and coldly returning Sophie’s embrace,
+she bade her good night and left the
+room. Several days passed in this manner.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The next Sabbath the family all went to
+church—all except Sophie, who stopped at home
+with the headache, Hagar, who stayed to keep
+her company, and Raymond, who remained for
+some purpose of his own. They were sitting in
+Hagar’s dressing-room, grouped near one of the
+front windows. The babies were awake; Sophie
+held Agnes, and Hagar kept the other, Agatha,
+whom she fancied to be the more delicate, on
+her lap. Hagar was looking very attentively at
+her child. It seemed to her that for days the
+children, especially this little one, had been declining
+in flesh; she was beginning to believe
+that the disturbance of her own health was reacting
+upon the children, and so maternal anxiety
+was added to her other causes of uneasiness.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>At this moment, Raymond entered the room,
+and throwing himself into an easy chair, inquired
+after Sophie’s headache, and then looking at
+Hagar, who, sitting in the cross-light, looked
+ten degrees thinner and ghastlier than ever, he
+said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Sophie, will you look at your niece, and then
+at her children, and will you inform her of the
+fate to which she is dooming <em>them</em>, to say
+nothing of herself, by her obstinacy?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie’s large eyes started, dilated, and turned
+in apprehension from Raymond to Hagar, from
+Hagar to the children, and she remained silent
+from perplexity. Then Raymond put her calmly
+in possession of the disputed point between himself
+and Hagar—keeping Hagar silent, meanwhile,
+by an occasional menace piercing through
+his gentle eyes; at ending, he said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Now, ever since you have been here, Sophie,
+do you not perceive that all three have declined
+in health?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes,” said Sophie, “that is too palpable to
+be denied.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Then turning to Hagar, she said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Your health, and consequently your children’s
+health, is suffering, my dear Hagar.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“It is from <em>anxiety</em>,” began Hagar, when,
+meeting her husband’s eye, and recollecting herself,
+she ceased.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“From <em>whatever</em> cause, dear Hagar,” said he,
+“your health <em>is</em> sinking, and you will have at
+length to succumb to circumstances.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_113'>113</span>A message now summoned Raymond from the
+room, and the two ladies were left alone.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, dear Hagar, for the children’s sake you
+will have to give them up.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>All mothers love their children, of course;
+Hagar’s love for her babies was fired with all the
+natural fierceness of her temperament; she would
+as soon have died as have had them severed
+from her. She answered,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You do not know what you are talking
+about, Sophie; if you were a mother, you would
+know that between my heart and these children
+is an invisible cord, and the nearer I am to them,
+the more natural and comfortable it feels; the
+further I am off from them, the tighter and more
+painful becomes the tension. It is uneasiness
+one room off—anxiety one flight of stairs off—I
+know it would be agony one street off. In short,
+I cannot bear to be severed from them.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You need not be severed from them; get a
+nurse in the house.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But Raymond does not like that idea; he
+does not want the fuss of a nurse in the house;
+he wishes me to put them out.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Then Raymond is cruel and unnatural, and
+his plan is not to be thought of for a moment,”
+said Sophie; then she suddenly stopped, as
+though she regretted her hasty speech—a speech
+that Hagar immediately and indignantly took up,
+however.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Sophie, it is not like you to be so very unjust
+and harsh. Raymond is <em>not</em> cruel!—could
+not <em>become</em> so, and you know it! If he does not
+love these children very tenderly yet, why he
+<em>will</em> love them, when they are old enough to
+notice and respond to his love; <em>besides</em>, I never
+<em>did</em> see a man who cared much about very
+<em>young</em> children, as we do. No! you must do
+him justice, Sophie; Raymond has very delicate
+and sensitive nerves; he cannot bear roughness,
+discord, or any other jar of the nerves that more
+obtuse senses could brave. He is not like <em>me</em>,
+who have nerves and sinews strung for endurance
+rather than for enjoyment. He is an <em>epicurean</em>
+by constitution and temperament, and I
+do not know that there is any vice in that!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No? Do you not think that when the indulgence
+and cultivation of these delicate and luxurious
+habits are made the study and object of
+life, to the neglect, and perchance to the positive
+violation of high duties, that it <em>is</em> vice, and <em>may
+be</em> crime; already you see it has made him forget
+not only his children’s welfare, but <em>your</em>
+happiness.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“It has <em>not</em>!” replied Hagar, indignantly;
+“how often must I tell you, Sophie, that he does
+not see how much he makes me suffer—at least
+that he cannot see a just reason for my suffering,
+because he is utterly blind in this—how <em>can</em> he
+be expected to sympathize in a feeling in which he
+does not as yet participate? You must excuse
+my warmth, Sophie, when you exasperate me!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie smilingly caressed her, as she replied,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Forgive! I sympathize with your warm
+partizanship, dear Hagar; besides, to put you in
+a good humor, I will say, I fully believe that
+half smothered in this down of effeminacy is a
+spirit of goodness that will never be wholly
+quenched, if <em>you</em> knew how to get at it. Now <em>I</em>
+can, always could, elicit this good spirit. You
+shall see.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar did not altogether like Sophie’s insinuation
+of possessing the ability to manage her
+husband; it seemed to impair the <em>prestige</em> of
+dignity by which her love had surrounded him;
+nevertheless she permitted her to leave the room,
+Sophie saying as she left,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I am his mamma, you know, Hagar! I
+have a right to interfere, especially since he has
+honored me with his confidence this morning;
+besides, he loves me dearly, and always did, ever
+since he knew me, and always will as long as
+we both live.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>This was true; from the first moment of their
+acquaintance, Sophie, by her serene temperament,
+disinterested affections, and quiet wisdom, had
+gained, not an ascendency over his mind exactly,
+but a modified influence in his heart. She sought
+him out, and going to work in her calm, matronly
+manner, arranged the difficulty.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The room occupied just now by herself and
+Captain Wilde was, after their departure, to be
+converted into a nursery, both upon account of
+its separation by the wide, central hall, from the
+apartments of Hagar and Raymond, and from its
+communication with the chamber of Rosalia,
+whose fear of sleeping alone, and whose love for
+the near neighborhood of the children and their
+nurse, combined to make the arrangement agreeable
+to her, as well as to others.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The visitors remained a week after this. Gusty
+May had kept so close to his little lady love, in
+view of the impending separation, as to give
+others very little opportunity of cultivating her
+friendship. And as Rosalia was strongly attracted
+to the babies, and as Gusty was as strongly
+attracted to Rosalia, much of their time was
+passed in Hagar’s dressing-room.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>You should have seen them there in their
+innocent affection and familiarity, blending childlike
+frolic with droll, old-fashioned solicitude in
+their care of Hagar’s children. There Gusty
+would sit with Agnes across his knees, and a silk
+handkerchief spread over his arm, for fear the
+rougher broadcloth would irritate her cheek,
+chirruping to the infant, and calling himself “its
+Uncle Gusty;” and there Rosalia, with Agatha,
+whom she always would hold on her <em>own</em> lap,
+because she persisted that this babe was the more
+delicate—yes! you <em>should</em> have seen <em>her</em>, with
+her beautiful Virgin Mary face, brooding over the
+babe.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>And Gusty again! what an old granny he <em>did</em>
+make of himself! feeling the baby’s fingers and
+toes, to see if they were warm enough, or cool
+enough, &#38;c., &#38;c., &#38;c. One day Gusty’s heart
+was filling with a jest that was bubbling up to
+the corners of his mouth and eye, and leaking
+out of every crevice of his countenance. Agnes
+had gone to sleep in his arms—at last as he laid
+her in the crib, and while he was covering her
+up, his joke overflowed as he looked at the serene
+little madonna before him.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Don’t you wish these were <em>our</em> babies,
+Rose?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, I do <em>so</em> wish they were our babies—God
+love them! they are so sweet,” said Rosalia,
+raising her large eyes to his and looking him
+straight through the head, with her vague azure
+gaze!</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Up sprang Gusty stamping and dancing about
+the floor and swearing—no, exclaiming,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You are a baby yourself! a <em>snow</em> baby you
+are! or, a fool! or both! why don’t you get
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_114'>114</span>mad? why don’t you box my ears? will <em>nothing</em>
+arouse you? do you know I have been saying
+something very impudent to you?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Have you?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! you go to Guinea! ‘<em>have you</em>.’ Yes,
+I have! <em>You</em> don’t love me, Rose—no, not a
+bit!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, I do, Gusty; don’t wake the babies!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<span class='sc'>You don’t</span>,” thundered Gusty, “and I
+wouldn’t have you to save your life.” Then he
+came and fell into a chair, and looking at her
+wrathfully, said, “See here, Rose; I won’t have
+you! I’ll court the first pretty girl I come
+across. Why don’t you answer me? what do
+you say to that? I say I’ll court the first pretty
+girl I come across!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Will you?” said Rose, vaguely.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, I will! and I’ll <em>marry</em> her!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Will you?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Yes</em>, I will; and I know several pretty girls—you
+need not think I don’t! sweet girls! that
+would give their eyes for me! And one lives at
+Havana, and one at Rio, and one at Genoa, and
+one at Havre, and one at Marseilles, and one at
+Mahon, and one at Gibraltar, and one at Constantinople,
+besides several others! Come!
+Now! What do you think of that?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“It is very natural they should all love you,
+Gusty, I am sure.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Humph! is it? Well, I am going to court
+and marry one of them before I come home!
+What do you think of <em>that</em>?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I think that will be very nice.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And you’ll have no objection?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why no, dear Gusty, how should I?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And you’d be very well contented?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, dear Gusty, if you were happy; I should
+be <em>so</em> contented; and if you would move over to
+this country and come to see us very often—for,
+Gusty, I should weep if you should go away to
+live for ever!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Up jumped Gusty again—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! my God! this—this—this—<em>creature</em>
+will be the death of me!” then suddenly he
+dropped down upon the carpet by her side, dropped
+his face in her lap, spread up his arms over
+her shoulders, and sobbed, “oh! Rosalia—darling
+rose! I would not marry a <em>princess</em>
+while you remained on earth! my pure angel!
+Oh, Rose, love me! love me! <em>please</em> love me!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I <em>do</em> love you, Gusty—as hard as ever I
+can!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You don’t—<em>don’t</em>—<span class='fss'>DON’T</span>! you little fool,
+you don’t love me a bit better than you love old
+Cumbo!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Poor old Cumbo!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Ah, ha! there it is; you say that in the
+same key with which you would say ‘Poor
+young Gusty!’ if a cannon ball should carry off
+my head next month! Love me! no, that you
+don’t! Oh, Lord! oh, dear!” groaned Gusty,
+getting up and sinking into a chair, “oh, Lord!
+oh, dear!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Are you sick, Gusty?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, I am!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Whereabouts, dear Gusty? shall I get you
+anything?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Sick at heart.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, the heart-burn!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You shut up!” snapped Gusty, so loud as to
+wake both the babies, that immediately set up a
+squall of alarm.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar came in, broke up the conversation, and
+quieted the children. Hagar was recovering her
+good looks, she was fully reconciled with her
+husband. So full, so complete was their reconciliation,—so
+happy was she in their renewed
+love, that her latent jealousy withdrew itself
+out of sight, away down in the deep caves of her
+spirit, until she nearly lost consciousness of its
+existence. Sophie had informed her that the
+marriage of Gusty and Rosalia would take place
+immediately after his return, and that circumstance
+gave her pleasure. And the last ashes
+were thrown upon the smouldering fire of her
+jealousy, by her observation of the full and free
+manifestations of mutual admiration and affection
+between Captain Wilde and Rosalia, and
+the loving sympathy of Sophie with both. Hagar
+would now have made a strenuous effort to cast
+out the devil from her soul, but that the wily
+demon withdrew itself into the deeps, until a
+more convenient season.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The period of their visit drew to a close.
+Gusty and Rosalia had a long parting talk the
+evening previous to their separation, and the
+usual amount of vows of eternal fidelity were
+exchanged. The next day, Sophie, Captain
+Wilde and Gusty took leave of their friends, embarked
+on board the steamboat, and in a few
+hours arrived at New York. In a week from
+their arrival at that city they sailed from its harbor
+for a cruise on the Mediterranean. The
+routine of the Rialto was resumed. The nursery
+was established upon the plan arranged by
+Sophie, and a woman engaged to take sole
+charge of the children. Rosalia wept a week
+for the loss of her friends, and then installed herself
+a self-constituted nursery governess in her
+chamber next the children. Everything went
+smoothly, harmoniously; Hagar’s serenity was
+restored—Rosalia’s tears dried—Raymond’s
+gaiety returned now, and everything “upon
+velvet.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Reader, do but look at this family; the members
+of which were beautiful in their kind as the
+hand of God pleased to make them, each one,
+from the youthful father to the children. Raymond,
+with his elegant form, charming face, and
+graceful and fascinating manners, Hagar, with
+her brilliant beauty and wit, and Rosalia, with
+her tenderness, formed a group an artist or an
+angel would have loved to contemplate. Alas!
+that the angel sentinels could not prevent the
+passage of the evil spirit to their Eden! Satan,
+wishing to enter Paradise, took the form of a
+“stripling cherub,” and so deceived Uriel, the
+Archangel himself; deceived “Uriel, one of the
+seven,” that stood before the throne of God.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XXIX.<br> <span class='c009'>JEALOUSY.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“Foul jealousy! thou turnest love divine</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>To joyless dread, and mak’st the loving heart</div>
+      <div class='line'>With hateful thoughts to languish and to pine,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>And feed itself with self consuming smart:</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Of all the passions of the soul thou vilest art.</div>
+      <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>Spenser’s Fairy Queen.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>From a strong reluctance to take you into the
+deep caves of the soul, where evil is forged, I
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_115'>115</span>have paused with my pen for hours. One can
+scarcely descend into the deep hell of passion
+and guilt without becoming saturated with the
+brimstone, scorched in the flames. As we enter
+the mystery of iniquity let us invoke the angels
+to guard us.</p>
+
+<hr class='c013'>
+
+<p class='c008'>There is no meaner passion than jealousy.
+Exclusive, concentrated, intense love does not
+always and necessarily include jealousy, and
+very ill does that base emotion accord with the
+high spirit, dashing pride—the pride of strength
+that distinguished Hagar. Yet, reader, have you
+never seen a fine man or woman with one physical
+deformity, infirmity? and have you never
+been told that such a blemish on God’s perfect
+work was the effect of injury sustained in infancy.
+I have seen a man—a Hercules in strength, an
+Apollo in beauty and grace—<em>crippled</em>—from an
+injury sustained in infancy through the thoughtlessness
+of parents. I have seen a woman beautiful
+as Venus, graceful as Euphrosyne—<em>blind</em>—from
+an injury sustained in infancy through the
+carelessness of nurses. How ill the shrunk and
+halting limb accorded with the handsome and
+manly figure! how ill the extinguished eye harmonized
+with the beautiful face! These misfortunes
+were not the faults of the sufferers, yet the
+effects of these wounds were felt through life,
+their scars were carried to the grave.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>And, reader, there are mental and moral deformities,
+infirmities—<em>the effects of injuries sustained
+in infancy!</em> more baleful than any physical
+calamity can be, for they are the cause not
+only of much sorrow and suffering—as physical
+ills <em>may</em> be—but of much <em>sin</em>, as moral and mental
+wounds and scars <em>must</em> be, whose fatal influence
+pursues through life unto death and beyond
+the grave. Thus a spark of jealousy is dropped
+into an infant’s heart, it smoulders through long
+years, and finally bursts out into a destructive
+flame in the woman’s bosom.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>A little, dark, wild, shy child, whose peculiar
+organization demanded that her shyness should
+be conquered by kindness, her wildness tamed by
+gentleness, her self-distrust reassured by confidence,
+is disparaged and neglected, while her
+more beautiful companion and playmate, whose
+extreme tenderness and sensibility required the
+bracing process of a sterner training, is flattered
+and caressed; until wounded by the loss of love,
+the slighted child grows doubtful of herself, distrustful
+of others, and jealous of her more attractive
+rival, hard, proud and defiant to all she
+did <em>not</em> love, suspicious and exacting towards the
+only one she adored; and the favored child,
+enervated by indulgence, grows more and more
+dependent on the love of those about her, more
+and more incapable of resisting any temptation
+that appeals to her through her affections; and
+these evils have grown with the growth, and
+strengthened with the strength of the children,
+of the girls, of the women. Alas! who can
+see the end of the interminable evil resulting from
+one small mistake in education; and from what
+wanton carelessness, even in well meaning parents
+and teachers, these mistakes are made;
+and sometimes how intentionally and in what
+good faith they are committed! Heaven knows
+there would seem to be enough to do to eradicate
+<em>hereditary</em> evil, the roots of sin indigenous
+in the hearts of children, without laboring to sow
+there the seeds of errors foreign to the soil. The
+low vice of jealousy was foreign to the high
+temperament of our Hagar; yet how it had been
+planted, sunk, trodden deep, and stamped into
+the bottom of her heart. The mean sins of indolence,
+selfishness, and vanity were not native
+to the pure soil of our Rosalia’s bosom, yet how
+sedulously they had been cultivated there!</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Rosalia, the petted favorite, whose soft nature,
+while it pleaded for indulgence, really needed
+the hardening process of a strict training—Rosalia,
+still further enfeebled by fondness, has grown
+softer and weaker year by year; softer and
+weaker, until from very tenderness she is rendered
+incapable of resisting the solicitations of
+any evil that may tempt her through her sympathies.
+Rosalia has grown up gentle, tender,
+lovely, but vain, infirm, and unprincipled. Hagar,
+whose wild and shy temper needed to be
+wooed and won, and ameliorated by tenderness—Hagar
+still further repulsed, hardened, and
+alienated by neglect, harshness, and caprice—Hagar
+is still high spirited and faithful, but inclined
+to entertain envy, suspicion, and jealousy;
+foul blots on a fine character.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Her jealousy of Rosalia was especially natural,
+and logical—I had nearly said inevitable—not
+only from the fascinating beauty of her rival
+from infancy up to womanhood, but from the
+very character of her <span class='fss'>ONE</span> affection.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Rosalia, then, the beauty, the pet, and the rival,
+is domesticated with Hagar, the jealous and the
+slighted girl—and with Raymond, the poetic and
+the artistic epicurean—Rosalia equally fascinating
+in her extreme beauty, in her artless grace,
+and in the affectionate tenderness of her manner
+and her tone, soon won the warm friendship of
+Raymond Withers as she had won the affection
+of every man, woman, child, and beast, that fell
+in her way. She would have been a delightful
+addition to the circle at the Rialto, a delightful
+fireside companion in the autumn evenings, could
+Hagar have rid herself of the vulture of jealousy
+gnawing in the bottom of her heart. Yet do
+not mistake Hagar, do not think more meanly
+of her than she deserves—she was not <em>generally</em>,
+but only <em>particularly</em> envious of Rosalia; thus,
+had they both been in general society together,
+Hagar could have sympathized with, could have
+rejoiced in the highest success of her lifelong
+rival, could have been contented to be obscured
+by, to be lost under the glory of Rosalia’s
+charms and conquests; but here in her own domestic
+circle, here where she had “garnered up
+her heart,” she could brook no intrusion, no
+partnership, no rival; and as in this boundless
+universe, there <em>was</em> but <span class='fss'>ONE</span>, there ever <em>had
+been</em> but <span class='fss'>ONE</span> whom her whole soul worshipped—<span class='sc'>God</span>—so
+on this wide earth there was but
+<em>one</em>, there had been but <em>one</em> whom her whole
+heart adored—her <em>husband</em>. This was Hagar’s
+religion and her love. In almost every respect
+she was as opposite to Rosalia in mind and heart
+as she was in person and appearance. Rosalia,
+with a generous benevolence, radiating from
+her heart as the beams from the sun, knew no
+exclusive affection, was “innocent of the knowledge”
+of any particular love. Hagar’s soul,
+nearly destitute of general benevolence, was absorbed
+in one intense passion. Had a city been
+swallowed by an earthquake, overflowed by the
+boiling lava thrown from the crater of a burning
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_116'>116</span>volcano, carried away by an inundation of the
+sea, or reduced to ashes by a general conflagration;
+had a nation been exterminated by war,
+pestilence, or famine, the news would have impressed
+Hagar very slightly. <em>But!</em> had the
+lightest sabre cut but marked the fair and regal
+brow of her loved one, her very heart would
+have dropped blood. Yet much as she desired
+his <em>happiness</em>, much she desired his <em>affections</em>
+more! she could have borne his <em>death</em> better
+than the <em>loss of his love</em>! she wished to be all
+in all to the man who was everything to her.
+Her jealousy was morbid as her love was extravagant.
+For her, his broad and high white forehead,
+in its superb amplitude and repose, expressed
+more majesty than the wild expanse of
+heaven itself—for her, his soft and deep blue
+eyes revealed more spiritual life than the purest
+dreams of her own soul—for her every expression
+of the face, every gesture of the figure,
+every tone of the voice revealed more poetry,
+religion, love, than the whole universe besides.
+Often when he would be writing or reading, or
+in any other manner occupied so as to prevent
+conversation, she would sit upon the corner of
+the sofa, and veiling the splendid fire of her
+eyes under their long lashes, gaze upon his form
+or face, watching its varying expression with all
+the enthusiasm of an artist, with all the inspiration
+of a poet, with all the adoration of a devotee,
+with all the love of a woman, a silent and
+unnoticed but enraptured worshipper! At such
+times, carried away, she would not think of herself
+at all—at other times a painful feeling or
+fancy of self-deficiency would torture her. All
+who love, who worship, think more or less
+humbly of themselves—this feeling is often morbid
+in excess or irrationality, and often itself
+engenders jealousy. In Hagar this was natural—she
+was not in her own estimation a tithe so
+handsome or <em>accomplished</em> as Raymond, and in
+the same proportion that she adored his perfections
+she depreciated her own attractions. For
+him she desired to possess all the gifts of beauty
+and genius, that she might meet and supply the
+wants of his being at every avenue, that she
+might be the whole world to him, as he undoubtedly
+was the whole universe to her. To her
+every face looked mean, expressionless, or sensual,
+compared to his glorious countenance, in
+which every passion, malign or benign, became
+godlike! to her every tone was harsh and
+rough, or flat and dull, compared to his love-tuned
+voice—he was her music, her poetry, her
+love, her religion, her life, soul, and final destiny—her
+spirit sought unison with his spirit,
+ardently, impetuously; she knew in heaven, their
+redeemed souls would blend in one—in heaven
+they would be—<em>one angel</em>. Call this morbid,
+call this extravagant, reader, yet acknowledge
+that it was no <em>sudden</em> passion, that this intense
+love of one ardent soul had been growing from
+the moment that the beautiful youth had lifted
+the little ugly infant to his knee, and thenceforth
+become her adoration, her idol, her dream of
+heaven. This passion had increased with years,
+every circumstance had only served to augment
+it, association and absence, meeting and parting,
+until their marriage, and then all the requirements
+of his regal will, all the sacrifices of her
+own wishes, all the struggles of her independence
+before it was subdued, all the death throes
+of her mighty pride before it was annihilated,
+served but to draw tighter, to rivet faster the
+chains that bound her heart to <em>his</em>; her separate
+soul, will, individuality of which she had boasted
+in her haughtiness, fled to him, cleaved to him,
+seemed blissfully, divinely lost in him—in heaven
+they would be one angel, that was her love,
+hope, faith, religion, her conception of heaven.
+Call it insanity, reader! many minds that pass
+for sane have in a greater or a less degree their
+insanity, in other words their master passion, or
+their besetting sin, or both in one.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Her conjugal love was her master passion—jealousy
+her besetting sin—and her jealousy was
+morbid as her love was extravagant. In losing
+her very soul in his heart, she wished to <span class='fss'>FILL</span>
+that heart to the exclusion of every other object.
+I repeat it here, she wished to be everything to
+the being who was everything to her—she wished
+for matchless beauty, peerless genius, not that
+she might be generally admired, but that she
+might meet and supply every demand of his soul.
+But now! but now! here was one more richly
+and rarely endowed by nature with the power
+of pleasing than herself, one who charmed all
+the world, and who must, she fancied, charm <em>her</em>
+world, her universe away from her life. She
+wished to be—oh! <em>not</em> from vanity, but from
+love to please <em>his</em> poet-mind—she wished to be
+the fairest in her husband’s sight—but here was
+one fairer, oh, how much fairer than herself—she
+wished to be the most graceful, yet here was
+one whose every movement was the very “poetry
+of motion”—she wished that <em>her</em> voice in
+household cadences, or in song, might fall the
+sweetest on his ears; yet here was one, whose
+artless tones were melodious as the fall of
+waters or the notes of birds.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Their evenings!</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Rosalia would sit at the piano singing the
+low, sweet melodies he loved, while he stood at
+the back of her chair, turning over the music,
+bending above her, smiling benignly on her, forgetful
+of everything but of her and her song,
+sometimes joining his voice to hers—and she!
+how often at the end of a song she would turn
+around and give him a soft, beaming smile of
+affectionate pleasure, when she felt that she had
+pleased him. How little the innocent girl
+dreamed of the mischief she was doing—how
+indeed should she have suspected it? Had she
+not played and sung for Captain Wilde every
+evening on the Rainbow, and had she not always
+been rewarded by smiles, praises, caresses, and
+kisses, from Sophie and from Captain Wilde,
+too? No, she did not guess the evil she was
+causing—she did not guess it even when she saw,
+evening after evening, that Hagar withdrew herself
+from the instrument and buried herself in a
+distant deep arm-chair, or left the room.
+There <em>was one</em> who observed and defied her
+displeasure—Raymond, who occasionally raising
+himself from his recumbent posture over
+Rosalia’s chair, would turn, and darting his eyes
+fiercely into the obscurity of Hagar’s retreat, and
+fixing them sternly upon her, would bring her by
+a look back to his side, sighing, trembling, dejected—then
+smiling sweetly on her, and passing
+his arm around her little waist, would hold her
+there, and look supremely blessed while thus
+caressing <em>her</em> and listening to Rosalia’s music.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Alas! that Hagar was not wise! Alas! for
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_117'>117</span>the mental cripple, for the moral blind, for the
+injury received in infancy, for the faith crushed
+out! Hagar was not wise, did not understand—she
+continued, whenever she was permitted,
+sullenly to withdraw herself from the group,
+making the trio a couple, and oh! fatal sign, at
+last she was more and more frequently <em>allowed</em>
+to absent herself. Hagar was insane—yes,
+reader, in recalling the circumstances of this
+period of her life, in trying to understand them,
+I am constrained to say that Hagar was insane,
+not to have seen that <em>her</em> presence, <em>her</em> sympathy,
+together with Rosalia’s perfect innocence
+and artlessness, would have been the immediate
+antidote to any poison that <em>might</em> have crept
+into the intercourse of these two friends—the
+antidote! it would have prevented the most
+distant approach of an evil thought.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Jealousy seldom or never prevents, frequently
+suggests and causes, the very infidelity it fears.
+No evil passion is stationary, it must increase or
+decrease. Hagar’s disease was growing. At
+first she had only been jealous of his admiration,
+of his affection—<em>now</em> she was growing doubtful
+of his faith. Now, because wearied out by her
+sullenness, indignant at her unjust suspicions,
+even while obstinate in the pursuit of the pleasures
+and gratification of the tastes that excited
+her envy, he permitted her to withdraw from his
+side and isolate herself in a distant corner. As
+yet Rosalia’s bosom was at perfect peace—the
+slight shadow of the evil thought, the thought
+now ever gnawing at Hagar’s heart, ever by her
+insane jealousy <em>kept before Raymond’s mind</em>,
+had not darkened its brightness, had not breathed
+on its purity. Will the evil retrograde, or will
+it advance until it shall overwhelm the gentle
+girl? Hagar, deeply as she cherished this envy,
+this jealousy, was yet too proud to breathe it to
+her rival; besides, it was Raymond upon whom
+her doubts fastened, not as yet upon Rosalia.
+The perfect simplicity, the maidenly frankness,
+the childlike affection of Rosalia, was too apparent
+and <em>transparent</em> to expose <em>her</em> to doubt or
+suspicion.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Reader, how I loathe this part of my work!
+this analisation of an evil passion is as detestable
+a task as I should judge the dissection and
+anatomy of a putrid heart to be. If you dislike
+to read it as I to write it, you will skip it all.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sometimes Hagar would arouse herself, and
+throwing off at least all manifestation of gloom
+or sullenness, would make an effort to regain
+her fast ebbing power of pleasing; she also
+cultivated her rare talent for music; but she
+could seldom succeed in giving Raymond
+pleasure. He loved melody, and her forte was
+grand harmony. The grand anthems of Haydn,
+Handel, and Beethoven, lost none of their
+grandeur in her apprehension and expression.
+But her soul was strung upon too high a key, to
+give out sweetly the low breathing music of the
+melodies he loved. Thus he luxuriated in the
+bright, soft shower of Rosalia, full of melody,
+and writhed when the sublime storm of Hagar’s
+grand harmony flashed and thundered around
+him. Hagar saw this with anguish, oh! and
+this very anguish gave inspiration, gave additional
+force and expression to her passionate, to her
+gorgeous, to her awful conceptions of music!
+At last, however, she gave up the hope of ever
+inspiring him with admiration of her fierce
+tempests of harmony, and tried her voice and
+her touch upon the airs he loved, but here she
+failed—failed entirely. This was not her proper
+forte, and she had, as yet, too little control over
+her voice to manage it mechanically—to reduce
+it to the minor keys—she depended for much of
+her grand performance upon inspiration, and she
+had no inspiration for those low breathing melodies.
+Even suffering did not give it her; for in
+her hours of anguish her soul found its only expression
+in the sharp cry, the deep roar, the
+thunder of the grand harmony,—not in the sob
+and wail of melody. So Hagar abandoned the
+seemingly vain attempt to make her music
+agreeable in the drawing. She cultivated the
+art—<em>her</em> art now by vocation and adoption—with
+all the passionate enthusiasm of her ardent
+nature; it became her solace, her soul’s expression.
+Her days were divided between her music
+and her children. At length, not being able to
+find sufficient expression, her soul began to
+struggle for freer, fuller utterance—for the revelation
+of its <em>own</em> individual life and love, poetry
+and music—and Hagar became a poet and a
+musician by these steps; first she set the finest
+passages of her best loved poets to the sublimest
+strains of her most admired composers wherever
+they could be adapted; where they could not,
+she essayed to set the poetry to music of her
+own composition, as in the instance of Smart’s
+song; and then to compose words to her favorite
+strains of harmony. At last she attained
+the power of revealing her <em>own</em> poetry—breathing
+her <em>own</em> music. She was but nineteen.
+Her music and her poetry were all impromptus
+of sudden, irresistible inspiration—the expression
+of her life at the moment—the electric flash of
+soul, bright and gone in an instant—they were
+unwritten, inspired, expressed, and forgotten.
+They would come, these spasms of inspiration,
+as the blast comes, and go as it subsides; come
+as the tide comes, and go as it ebbs; come,
+waking the stillness of her soul as the thunder
+comes, and go as it rolls into silence; come,
+lighting up the blindness of her mind as the
+lightning comes, and go as it flashes out into
+darkness; come as the storm comes, and pass as
+it passes. They would come at first unexpected,
+unbidden, impetuous, and irresistible,—nor could
+she send them away till a more convenient season,
+nor could she at will summon them. At
+length she found the spell to call these</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c004'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“Spirits from the vasty deep.”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c016'>She found her power, though now she played
+with it only for her pleasure. The pent-up fire
+of her soul—that burned in her bosom, rocking
+to and fro, lashing its shores as a sea of flame in
+storm—the soul that blazed in and out upon her
+cheek, and flamed through her eyes until their
+gaze seemed to scorch you; the soul found vent
+in poetry and in music.</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c004'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>And she would have been happy, <em>but</em></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c016'>in the grand diapason of her life was one broken
+chord, that left a blank, or gave out discord—her
+jealousy.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>One evening, as usual, Rosalia was seated at
+the piano, playing and singing one of Moore’s
+melodies. Raymond was seated near her, and
+his very soul seemed floating out upon the waves
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_118'>118</span>of the music; presently he arose and went to
+the back of her chair where he stood bending
+over her, unconsciously half embracing her.
+She raised her eyes and welcomed him by a
+beaming smile, without pausing in her music.
+Soon, however, he turned and looked for Hagar;
+she was sitting in a distant part of the room,
+buried in the shades of a deep arm-chair—her
+head bent forward and resting on her hand,
+while her profile was concealed by the veil of
+her ringlets. She did not look up or
+notice his glance. He spoke to her; she raised
+her eyes—he beckoned her to come, but with a
+bitter smile, she shook her head in refusal; then
+his eyes fastened on her with a fierce anger,
+piercing through their tenderness, which now for
+the first time she did not heed; then with a
+quick and threatening nod, he turned away and
+gave his attention up to the music. Not one
+whit of this dumb show had Rosalia noticed.
+At last her song was over, and rising she left
+the piano.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>An hour after, Raymond Withers entered the
+dressing-room of his wife. She had thrown herself
+upon the lounge, and her head was drooped
+over one end, while all her ringlets falling down
+shaded her face. He approached—and standing
+over her with folded arms, he said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hagar!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She did not speak or move.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Hagar!</em>”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She looked up, silently.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Hagar!</em> I say.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What is the matter?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Nothing.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Nothing!</em>—do not speak falsely, Hagar!
+tell me at once, what is the matter?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She smiled a haggard smile, and rising, went
+to her dressing-glass and began to unclasp her
+bracelets. He followed, and taking her hand,
+led her back to the sofa, seated her, and stood
+before her, folded his arms, and looking steadily
+at her, said, sternly,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“This folly must be ended just at this point;
+and when I ask you a question, Hagar, you are
+to reply, and not evade it. Tell me, now, the
+cause of your gloom—tell me at once, without
+prevarication, for I will know it.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You <em>do</em> know it,” said she, looking up
+through her anguished eyes at his calm, stern,
+yet beautiful face. “You do know it.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I do <em>not</em> know it, and I wait your answer.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You <em>suspect</em> it, then?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I am not given to <em>suspicion</em>,” sneered Raymond,
+“and I want to hear the cause of your
+sullenness from your own lips. Come, reply!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She relapsed into silence.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Am I to have an answer from you, Hagar?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Alas! why do you press the question? I am
+gloomy, I cannot conceal it, but I do not complain—do
+not <em>wish</em> to complain.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Of <em>what</em> have you to ‘complain?’”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Nothing.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘<em>Nothing!</em>’—false, again! for though it is
+true, in fact, that you <em>have</em> nothing of which to
+complain, it is false on your lips.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She did not repel this charge, but sat with
+head bowed, with chin rested on her breast, with
+clasped hands on her lap, he still standing before
+her with folded arms.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why did you not come up to the piano
+when I beckoned you?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Because I did not wish to come.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>You ‘did not wish to come’</em>—insolent! but
+passing over the impertinence of your reply, Hagar,
+<em>why</em> did you ‘not wish to come?’”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I was not wanted.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I called you.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yet I was not needed.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“That was no business of yours; I beckoned
+you!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And I am not a slave, to come at your
+beck!” flashed Hagar, suddenly raising her eyes,
+blazing with defiance, to meet his steady gaze.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, you are not a slave, Hagar; you are a
+proud, fierce woman—yet Hagar, to-morrow,
+when I call you to my side, <em>you will come</em>!”
+and his hand dropped heavily upon her shoulder.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>We will drop the curtain here; these scenes
+are disgraceful, disgusting.</p>
+
+<hr class='c013'>
+
+<p class='c008'>The next evening they were grouped around
+the piano again, Rosalia was singing her evening
+song, Raymond Withers standing at the back of
+her chair, a little on the right, and Hagar stood
+on the other side, leaning with her elbow on the
+end of the piano, her forehead bowed upon the
+palm of her hand. Rosalia, without raising her
+eyes from her music, moved the light so that its
+beams fell more directly upon her notes—its
+beams fell also upon the countenance of Hagar,
+exposing a face so ghastly in its pallor, eyes so
+fierce in their anguish, that Raymond, evidently
+fearing lest Rosalia should notice her agony of
+expression, brought her, by a look and gesture,
+out of the light and into the shade of the background
+by his side; and passing his arm around
+her waist, drew her up to him, smiling down in
+her face, as he whispered, quickly, under his
+breath—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Be gentle, tender, complying, Hagar, and
+you shall be happy; be the reverse, be rude,
+angry, rebellious, and you shall be wretched.
+Yet I love you, Hagar, and would prefer to
+make you happy; do not, while I love you, constrain
+me to deeds of hate.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She did not reply; she stood still and pale
+within the embrace of his arm, and remained
+there all the remainder of the evening, until Rosalia
+had finished her songs.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>As the girl shut down the lid of the instrument,
+arose and turned towards them, she noticed
+Hagar, and starting, exclaimed,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why, Hagar! how frightfully pale you are!
+Are you ill?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No”—began Hagar, but Raymond, by a
+tight pressure of her arm, arrested her speech,
+and answered for her.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Yes</em>—she is indisposed, but a night’s rest
+will restore her; go to your chamber, love,” and
+taking a lamp from a side-table he gave it to her,
+and opening the door, held it for her to pass out.
+She went. Rosalia, springing up at the same
+moment, exclaimed,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Let me go with you to your room, dear
+Hagar, if you are not well!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>No!</em> I am going with her. Good-night,
+dear Rosalia,” said Raymond, suddenly starting
+up to follow his wife. Rosalia looked distressed,
+perplexed, and finally paced slowly and thoughtfully
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_119'>119</span>away to the chamber next the nursery,
+where she slept.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hagar,” said Raymond, as soon as he
+reached her chamber.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“How did you spend the day after I left the
+house this morning?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I kept my room with a headache, with a <em>real</em>
+headache, the first I ever had in my life.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Is that an intended reproach?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, I only mentioned it as a fact.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Where was your cousin?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“She went to town shopping with Mrs. Collins
+in the forenoon, and drove out with the children
+in the afternoon.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Then she was not with you all day?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Had no opportunity of questioning you about
+your ill looks?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No; I said I had the headache, and so I
+really had; and when I kept my room she understood
+it to be from a slight indisposition.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But now her suspicions are excited—she sees
+that your misery rises from a deeper source than
+a slight physical indisposition—take care, Hagar,
+that she does not see the <em>cause</em>. She sees that
+there is trouble between us; be sure that you do
+not betray the reason, or, rather, the <em>un</em>reason of
+this trouble, my lady.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar did not reply to this covert threat. She
+was not herself; a heaviness, a stupor, weighed
+down her spirit; a reaction of the excitement of
+her ardent temperament, an ebb in the high tide
+of her life, left her weak and powerless. She
+lay there upon the lounge in her dressing-room;
+it was yet too early to think of retiring, and
+Raymond, taking advantage of the temporary
+torpor of her faculties, perhaps mistaking her
+apathy for utter submission, sat down by her
+side, and said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hagar, I am very tired of this, very thoroughly
+worn out with this; we have been beating
+the air long enough, let us come to something
+substantial. I will probe this wound of
+yours—extract the bullet that is festering in your
+bosom; tell me now, in so many words, of what
+have you to complain?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I do not complain.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You <em>do</em>; not in words, certainly, but in
+manner; now what is it all about—why are you
+growing more sullen, ugly, and repulsive every
+day?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Do</em> not ask me! Alas! have I not tried to
+be patient? <em>I</em> have kept my thoughts and feelings
+down, like wronged, suffering, and desperate
+captives in the hold of a slave ship, fearing
+to lift the hatches even, lest they should break
+forth, spreading pestilence and death!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She looked so <em>unutterably wretched</em> as she
+lay there, with her small hands pressed tightly
+upon her brow, and as her lips, quivering, sprang
+apart and closed; that Raymond, pitying her,
+stooped, and placing his hands under her arms,
+raised her up, and laid her head upon his bosom,
+looking kindly in her face all the while, as he
+said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hagar, I <em>do</em> love you—always shall, always
+<em>did</em>, Hagar, from the first instant that my eye
+fell upon you and caught yours—from the first
+moment that I, a youth, singled you, an infant,
+out from all the world as my own—for life, past
+death, and through eternity, recognising you for
+my own, knowing you for my own—<em>claiming</em>
+you for my own, preferring you, a little, ugly,
+perverse infant, to all the fair and gentle maidens
+of my own age, because I knew that into your
+little bit of a body was crowded and pressed the
+soul and life, the fire and spirit of twenty women—<em>claiming</em>
+you for my own, and waiting
+until you should grow up to womanhood, and
+never fearing or dreaming that any one would
+ever cleave my life down through the middle,
+and bear off the other half of it—<em>my Hagar</em>—for
+when was ever <em>I</em> jealous, Hagar?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She clasped her arms tightly around his neck,
+and buried her face in his bosom as she answered,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But my own, <em>own</em>—you know that I was
+not attractive,—that no one would wish to dispute
+your claim to me.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“On the contrary, I knew that you <em>were</em>
+attractive, and that Gusty May set up a very
+clamorous claim to you, and that you only
+needed to be further known, to raise many
+aspirants to your hand among superficial and
+impetuous young men like Gusty, who, if their
+eye is pleased and fancy tickled, believe themselves
+in love. No, Hagar! I trusted <em>in you</em>—not
+out of you—<span class='fss'>IN YOU</span>, for the security of our
+love and life.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“My own! my own! you <em>might</em> well have
+trusted in me—<em>may</em> well trust in me.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I did, and shall <em>always</em>. I married the
+little infant when I raised her on my knee at
+that wedding party given to Sophie and my
+father; I found my little wife then, and knew
+that she acknowledged my claim, saw in her
+splendid eyes, fascinated to my own, that she
+felt and acknowledged me.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, I did! I did! Looking up into your
+face I saw a soul radiating there that seemed to
+draw my spirit up to meet it! and I felt, Raymond,
+I felt that I had for the first time met a
+spirit that I had neither the power nor the will
+to resist in anything <em>long</em>; for see, Raymond! I,
+who defied Sophie and your father, told <em>you</em>
+the same moment, with my face in your bosom,
+that I would do anything in the world you
+wished me to do. Don’t you remember?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, love, I remember every single item.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And I, who laughed and shouted defiance
+to society in following my wild tastes,—I, who
+so desperately resisted the growing and surrounding
+influence of your will, how I permitted it to
+close upon me at last.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You did <em>not</em> permit it: you had no choice
+of permitting. You could not help it, love;
+<em>that</em> makes you my own, and my own for ever,
+Hagar!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, but are you <em>mine</em>! as surely, oh!
+Raymond?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I love you, Hagar.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You love me—you say so—will you tell,
+then, since this is an hour of tender reminiscences,
+of confidences, and explanation—will
+you tell me why, since you love me, you torture
+me so much; tell me why, when loving me, you
+make me suffer so much, and I will forgive it—indeed,
+I <em>have</em> forgiven it—could not help forgiving
+it!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You have nothing to forgive, love, and you
+must not use the word in reference to me. Yes,
+I will tell you, Hagar, for just now I am loving
+you very much, my own especial Hagar, and
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_120'>120</span>perhaps I may never be in a mood to tell you
+again. Listen, then: I believe I am naturally,
+or rather apparently, very gentle and tender, am
+I not?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, very; but—”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“At least! I have very keen and sensitive
+nerves, delicate features, fair complexion, and
+all that go to make up the idea of softness and
+sensibility?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“That I got from my mother.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Your mother! Ah! you never mentioned
+her to me before!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And shall never mention her again—hush!
+let us resume—I <em>have</em> sensibility, sensitiveness—<em>but!</em>
+away down in the deeps of my soul have
+a perverse spirit of great strength, power, and
+malice—where it came from I do not know;
+how it got there I do not know—but, Hagar,
+you are rather apt to arouse it—this spirit
+aroused, oppresses, seeks to subdue even those
+I love, when they resist me—this spirit in its
+awakened strength takes pleasure in its calm force
+of resistance, of overbearing and bearing down
+opposition, and the stronger and fiercer the opposition
+the greater the pleasure of the victory.
+It was that spirit that incited me last night, but
+it is not always in the ascendant—there, Hagar!
+that is the secret of the attraction your strong,
+fierce, proud nature had for me! it gives me
+plenty of employment, life, you see. Yet, Hagar,
+I love you.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>While he spoke, Hagar’s face had changed—one
+might say she was transfigured before him!
+her countenance grew radiant in inspiration as
+an angel’s, and her voice was softer, sweeter
+than you ever heard it, as she said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I am glad you told me, Raymond, it has
+saved me and you—it is well you have told me.
+That spirit! it is, as you say, a <em>perverse</em> spirit,
+an <em>evil</em> spirit, a spirit from hell; and I will give
+it no further employment, no further life, Raymond—no
+more food; I will not nurture it by
+pride or anger. It is a spirit of hate; I will
+meet it by a spirit of love; when it comes to
+war with me it shall find so little resistance, so
+little to do, that it shall fall into death from inactivity.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You, too, have your bosom’s foe, Hagar—but
+it is not now, as you would say, ‘in the ascendant.’
+Yes! you are jealous! jealous of
+Rosalia! Oh! <em>shameful</em>, Hagar!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Alas! it is true; I wish it were not; how
+can I help it?” said she, as the cloud came over
+her face, obscuring its glory—“<em>how</em> can I help
+it? It is gone now, the jealousy—but it will
+come back again, and nearly madden me! I
+know it will; and how can I help it, when I see
+that I cannot give you any pleasure, by all my
+efforts; you do not like my singing nor my
+playing—you hang over Rosalia’s chair all the
+evening, and forget my very existence.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I do not, Hagar! I never forget you for a
+single instant; how <em>can</em> I ever forget you, when
+your spirit clings so closely about me always?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Does it?” smiled Hagar. “<em>I</em> know it does,
+and I am glad you feel it, Raymond—glad you
+feel it, even at her side.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Nonsense, Hagar! I love Rosalia—or
+rather I should say I <em>like</em> Rosalia, the fair,
+gentle girl, as I like her soft music, as I like a
+summer prospect, as I like the fragrance of
+growing flowers—as <em>she</em> loves her pet doves. I
+like her because, like all other fair, sweet, and
+melodious things, her presence gives me pleasure—a
+pleasure that I do not choose to give up for
+your jealousy, Hagar! So I charge you, love,
+if you cannot exterminate the ‘green-eyed monster,’
+do not let him appear before Rosalia, and
+frighten the poor girl away from me. God!
+Hagar, if it comes to that, you will exasperate
+me to phrensy.” He spoke with unwonted
+energy, but quickly controlling himself, he said
+in a more gentle tone, “Be on your guard, love—be
+on your guard; this is extremely absurd,
+very ridiculous, not to say unjust to me; how
+you worry yourself and me! Kiss me, my
+Hagar.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘Kiss’ you, Raymond! a thousand, thousand
+times!” exclaimed she; all her natural
+wildness rebounding in the spring of her spirits,
+“a thousand times, dear Raymond; and I will
+try never to doubt you again,” and she clasped
+her arms about his neck, and drawing down his
+head, caressed him freely and gladly as a joyous
+child might. Her jealousy seemed gone for
+the time—a weight was lifted off, and that evening
+and the next day she went about with
+dancing eyes and with an exultant step, as if
+the spring of her little foot impelled the earth
+forward in its orbit! It was the first time Raymond
+had fully opened his heart to her, and she
+felt grateful for the confidence; she understood
+many things that had before been dark to her,
+she <em>thought</em> she understood <em>all</em>.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'><em>Had</em> he indeed opened and revealed his <em>whole</em>
+heart? and if so, what had induced him, with his
+proud reserve, to be so communicative? Reader,
+had Raymond Withers spoken what we have
+heard him speak, <em>two weeks before</em>, it would
+have been “the truth, the whole truth, and
+nothing <em>but</em> the truth;” <em>now</em>, however, in the recesses
+of his bosom lurked a sentiment as yet
+revealed in words to no one, as yet unrecognised
+by himself; <em>but</em> yet a sentiment that was growing
+stronger day by day, that was already beginning
+to betray itself in unguarded moments.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>I repeat it, jealousy seldom prevents, frequently
+suggests the very infidelity it fears. It has been
+said that “Unjust suspicion is apt to lead to that
+which is well founded. It is often very dangerous
+to hint an evil, though to warn against it:
+for constant suspicion of harm puts an idea into
+the head that otherwise might never have occurred;
+and this idea once fairly in is not so
+easily got out. Thus it is that unjust jealousy
+gives rise to real unfaithfulness. Can there be
+a stronger argument against too ready suspicion?”<a id='r7'></a><a href='#f7' class='c012'><sup>[7]</sup></a></p>
+
+<div class='footnote' id='f7'>
+<p class='c008'><a href='#r7'>7</a>. Ramsay on Human Happiness.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c008'>Poor Hagar! through her besetting sin, through
+her unjust suspicion, she had kept the evil before
+his eyes until he had grown familiar with it.
+This was the more dangerous, not only from his
+peculiar temperament, and from the extreme
+beauty, grace, tenderness, and artlessness of the
+rival she dreaded; but also from the fact of their
+isolation from the moderating and correcting influence
+of general society. But incited by a vague
+consciousness of this scarcely acknowledged
+sentiment, he had opened his heart to Hagar,
+exposing “almost” <em>all</em> its secrets, and now
+could she have continued to trust him, <em>her</em> faith
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_121'>121</span>might have saved his fidelity—could she have
+<em>continued</em> to trust him! but she could not—her
+waylaying sin could not be so promptly driven
+away for ever. Could an evil thought be dismissed,
+a guilty wish repressed, or a sinful passion
+crushed by one effort of the will, by one fell
+blow, many a moral victory we should see,
+many a moral hero hail, and the road to perdition
+be no longer paved with good intentions;
+but when blow after blow has been struck upon
+the waylaying foe, when after each repulsion it
+has retired only to rest, to gather force, to renew
+the attack, nothing but the highest moral courage
+and perseverance can keep up the warfare, can
+insure the victory. Hagar’s waylaying foe had
+only been beaten back for a time; a few days
+passed and it returned in power, in ferocity, with
+violence; for <em>now</em> Hagar’s doubts of her husband’s
+fidelity of heart were becoming but too
+reasonable!</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Reader, shall I shock <em>you</em>, and distress myself,
+by a recital of some of the scenes that disgraced
+the next two or three weeks? Hagar’s confirmed
+suspicions, anguish, and terror? Raymond’s
+stern, calm, implacable repression of her passion?
+The death throes of her suppressed and smothered
+rage? The indomitable strength of will by
+which he held her down—so that through all
+this, for many weeks, the innocent and artless
+Rosalia had no suspicion of <em>his</em> guilty passion,
+or of <em>her</em> racking jealousy! The poor girl
+wandered distressed and perplexed over the
+house, wondering in vain at a sorrow and an
+anger of which she could see no reasonable
+cause. If she inquired of Raymond, he would
+smile gaily and give her a light or an indifferent
+answer, and ask her for a song. If she inquired
+of Hagar, she would turn from her with a burning
+cheek and heaving bosom, without reply; if
+she pressed the question, Hagar would exclaim,
+in an agony,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Nothing! nothing! don’t ask me, Rosalia,”
+and leave the room; for Raymond had said to
+his wife, while his hand, talon-like, grasped her
+little shoulder, and his eye struck fiercely into
+hers,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Alarm this girl, give her one single inkling
+of the diabolical suspicions you cherish, and, as
+Heaven hears me, I will never see or speak to
+you thenceforth!” and she saw and felt that he
+would have kept his word. Yet, though she
+concealed the cause of her sorrow from Rosalia,
+she could not act the part of a hypocrite; she
+could not bring herself to feel kindly, or to act
+kindly, towards the girl who, however unconsciously,
+was wiling away her husband’s affections.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Rosalia grew daily more dejected—pining for
+the love, the tenderness, the sympathy and confidence,
+the free and affectionate intercourse with
+her friends, to which she had been accustomed;
+which was the great necessity of her life; without
+which she could not exist. She confined
+herself as much as possible to the nursery, and
+to Hagar’s two children, who were just beginning
+to notice and to love her. She longed for
+Sophie and Captain Wilde, and for the sweet
+home like feeling she enjoyed with them. She
+was beginning to dream of them frequently, and
+to wake weeping for them. She was beginning
+to regret the tears that prevented her accompanying
+them, to wonder whether it were possible
+now to go to them. She was very unhappy
+here. She felt herself in an atmosphere of coldness
+and vague censure, that chilled and depressed
+her. She felt strange and lonesome
+now, yet she tried to make herself agreeable to
+all, exerted herself to cheer Hagar when she
+saw her depressed, to amuse Raymond when he
+was grave.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>One evening, after a particularly unsuccessful
+attempt to disperse the gloom of the drawing-room
+by her sweet music, she had sought her
+own chamber in despair; finding Mrs. Collins
+there engaged in sorting linen, she fell weeping
+bitterly upon the bed, and exclaiming through
+her sobs,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Mrs. Collins! what <em>is</em> the matter in this
+house, can you tell me?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“It is not my place to tell you, Miss Aguilar,
+and perhaps I even do not know.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But what do you <em>think</em>, then, Mrs. Collins?
+oh! please tell me, it is not from idle curiosity,
+but because, because I do love Hagar and Raymond
+<em>so</em> much, and they are both <em>so</em> unhappy,
+especially Hagar, and they will not either of
+them give me a bit of satisfaction, and I want so
+much to know if I can do anything to mend it;
+tell me what is the matter, Mrs. Collins?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Young ladies should be very particular, Miss
+Aguilar; they may give trouble where they little
+think it.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘Particular,’ why, I <em>am</em> particular, am I not?
+I dress myself carefully and practise my music
+every day, and that is all Sophie and Captain
+Wilde required of me; and, lo! if I were <em>ever</em> so
+slovenly and idle, I should not think <em>that</em> would
+make so much trouble; and even if it did, I
+should think that they would tell me of it—but
+it can never be <em>that</em>.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You do not understand me, Miss Aguilar.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What is it then you mean, Mrs. Collins?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I mean young ladies should not make too
+free,” said the old lady, looking solemnly
+through her spectacles at the girl. “No, they
+should not make too free.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘Too free,’ ‘too free,’ <em>how</em> too free?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Too free—<em>with gentlemen</em>.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Too free with gentlemen! who is too free
+with gentlemen? You don’t mean <em>me</em>, do you,
+Mrs. Collins; oh! no, you can’t mean me, because
+I do not see any gentlemen to be free
+with, you know! No, of course you don’t mean
+<em>me</em>; what do you mean, Mrs. Collins?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I mean <em>you</em>, Miss Aguilar; I mean that <em>you</em>
+must not be too free with gentlemen.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But I don’t <em>see</em> any.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>None?</em>”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, indeed! to be sure none—oh! except
+Raymond, but then I love <em>him</em> because he is dear
+Hagar’s husband and my relative, and because
+<em>he</em> is <em>always</em> good to me; so good! so gentle!
+so tender <em>always</em>! but of course you do not
+mean <em>him</em>, oh no! and I should like to know
+what you <em>do</em> mean, dear Mrs. Collins?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Have I not heard you speak of a lady, the
+mother of your betrothed?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, Mrs. Buncombe; why?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You had better write to Mrs. Buncombe to
+come for you, and you had better return and remain
+with her until your people come back from
+foreign parts.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! I should like that, if Hagar would let
+me go.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_122'>122</span>“She will let you go, depend upon it.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But now that I come to think of it, I cannot
+leave Hagar either; poor Hagar! while she is
+so sad, it would be a sin.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Miss Aguilar, your cousin would prefer you
+to go, I am sure, and you had better take my
+advice.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I am sure I should be glad to go if I thought
+Hagar could spare me, and I will see about it.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Do</em>, my dear child—and—do not mention
+that <em>I</em> suggested it to you.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why not, Mrs. Collins, why must I not? I
+don’t love secrets, I never keep secrets—now
+why must I not say that you told me?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well! say so then, my dear, and say at the
+same time that I think you sickly and <em>weak</em>, <em>very</em>
+weak, and that I think a visit South would
+benefit your health.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The old lady had finished folding and packing
+away her bed and table linen, and locking the
+clothes press she took up her candle and bidding
+Rosalia good night, left the room.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Poor Rosalia! by the miserable failure of her
+education she had been sent into the world, into
+life, beautiful, fragrant, tempting, and defenceless
+as the conservatory exotic. Nurtured in the
+warm atmosphere of an enervating tenderness,
+she lived only in the love of those around her,
+and pined when it was withdrawn as the flowers
+languish in the cold. Rosalia was drooping—winter
+was approaching, yet the face of nature
+was not fading, withering from the withdrawal
+of the sun’s direct rays, faster than was Rosalia’s
+heart in the surrounding atmosphere of coldness.
+The whole house was a chill clime, in which
+there was but one spot of warmth, the crib of
+Hagar’s children. The whole day was a dreary
+blank, until the evening hour of music came,
+when she would try to please and cheer by her
+little songs. The whole family seemed strange,
+cold, or indifferent to her with one exception,
+Raymond Withers. <em>His</em> manner was always
+affectionate, his glance always fell gently on
+her eye, his tones smoothly, softly on her ear,
+his hand tenderly on her arm, and the doomed
+girl began, if not to love him only of all the
+family, at least to find return only in his love.
+As yet this affection of Rosalia was as pure as
+the maiden’s love for all others.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Had Rosalia’s intellect and conscience, her
+moral accountability for the use of time and
+talent, been cultivated in the same proportion as
+her sensibilities and affections, she would not
+have been thrown thus helpless upon the tenderness
+and sympathy of others; she would have
+possessed a self-sustaining principle, would have
+found occupation in mental resources. But this
+was not so; she had been fondled, praised, and
+spoiled, until intellect was half drowned in sensibility,
+mind enervated nearly to fatuity.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Days passed. Raymond Withers now too
+surely, terribly felt that his love for Rosalia was
+no longer pure brotherly affection. It was an
+intense and an absorbing passion. He began to
+struggle against its nearly overwhelming power—he
+began to avoid the charming girl. <em>Now</em>
+could Hagar have trusted him; could she have
+believed in the <em>power</em> of redeeming qualities that
+really existed in his heart; the solid substratum
+of good that lay beneath all this superficial alluvion
+of wilfulness and effeminacy; her faith
+might yet have saved him; saved herself from
+much anguish. As it was, Raymond Withers
+struggled on alone against the advancing power
+of his great temptation. He might have struggled
+longer, he might have struggled successfully,
+but that the very means he took accelerated the
+crisis, the catastrophe. He began to avoid Rosalia;
+declined her music; evaded her questions;
+repulsed her gentle attentions, until the guileless
+girl, utterly unable to comprehend her position,
+grew wretched, more wretched every day, in
+the thought that her <em>last friend, her only present
+friend</em>, as in her heart she began to style
+Raymond, had fallen from her; and by the
+fatality that makes us set a higher value upon a
+possession that is passing away, Rosalia began
+to prize his affection exceedingly—to desire its
+continuance more than all things—to lament its
+seeming loss passionately—to strive to win it
+back. “The clouds came on slow—slower;”
+the clouds whose vapors had been collected in,
+and evolved from their own bosoms, and raised
+to gather black and heavy in their sky, to break
+in thunder on their heads!</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Three circumstances combined to bring on the
+catastrophe of this household wreck, three circumstances,
+reader, that I wish you to notice, as
+I desire particularly to call attention here, and
+now, to the great importance of the formation of
+character in childhood and youth, and to the
+awful truth that the blackest treachery, the deepest
+guilt, the direst misery, the utmost perdition
+of men and women may sometimes be traced to
+the smallest, seemingly the most harmless mistakes
+in the education of boys and girls. Perhaps
+I have already been tedious upon this subject;
+perhaps I have dealt “in vain repetitions;”
+yet, in tracing the rise and progress of a guilty
+passion, can I be too emphatic in forcing the
+causes that produced this upon attention? These
+causes, then, I said there were three that conspired
+to bring down this impending thunderbolt.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>First, Hagar’s jealousy. We have seen how
+inevitably that jealousy sprang from a want of
+the faith that had been chilled to death in her
+heart by the coldness and neglect of her guardians
+in infancy. We have seen how that jealousy,
+by its violence, exasperated the anger of
+her husband; by its injustice (for in its commencement
+it was unjust), alienated his affections; by
+its pertinacity, suggested and kept before him the
+evil thought until it grew familiar. So much for
+the baleful effect of her jealousy upon Raymond.
+Its influence upon Rosalia may be summed up
+in a very few words—by manifesting itself in
+coldness and aversion, it threw the tender-hearted
+and guileless girl upon the ready sympathy and
+affection of Raymond for consolation. Do you
+now see the madness of this jealousy, and its
+powerful agency in bringing on the desolation
+of heart and home it feared and dreaded?</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Second, Rosalia’s tenderness—tenderness unsupported
+by strength of principle, heart unprotected
+by mind. We have seen that this softness
+was no more nor less than the feebleness of a
+character enervated by fond and foolish indulgence
+in her infancy. We have seen that this
+weakness made her dependent upon the love of
+those around her as the very breath of life; we
+have seen that when repulsed by Hagar’s coldness,
+it threw her for sympathy upon the affections
+of the only friend at hand; one whom, of
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_123'>123</span>all others, just at this crisis she should have been
+guarded against.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Third, the self-indulgence of Raymond. A
+delicacy cultivated and refined for years into an
+effeminacy that <em>seemed</em> harmless enough, yet
+that, as time passed, insidiously undermined his
+moral strength, rendering him daily more averse
+to self-denial, until he became incapable of self-resistance.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Could either of several good principles now
+have been brought into exercise, it would have,
+even <em>now</em>, arrested the impending catastrophe;
+could Hagar, by prayer, by effort, have thrown
+off her jealousy, have practised faith, candor,
+charity—could she have shown kindness to Rosalia,
+who was, as yet, entirely innocent in
+thought, word, and deed—could she have pitied
+and forgiven Raymond, who, as yet, was guiltless
+in act or intention. Or, could Rosalia have
+sought aid from heaven, and balanced her gentleness
+by self-sustaining strength upon its feet.
+Or, lastly, could Raymond have awakened and
+aroused his great latent moral strength from the
+bathos of luxury in which it was half drowned;
+could he have risen and shaken himself like a
+lion in his strength, throwing off the moral
+lethargy stealing upon him; could he have
+risen as Samson arose in his might, breaking the
+fetters that bound him, they might yet have been
+saved.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Alas! They seemed all under a spell, while
+the cloud of destiny came on, and on. A gloom
+settled on their hearth that nothing could dispel,
+a deep darkness stole through the house that
+neither sunlight nor firelight could brighten, a
+coldness gathered in their home that neither sun
+heat nor fire heat could warm, a silence fell
+around them that music itself could not break—moral
+gloom, moral darkness, moral cold, moral
+silence. The darkness, the shadow of the overhanging
+cloud of impending fate; the silence,
+the stillness that precedes the earthquake, while
+the fires rage and leap beneath; the awful stillness
+of the coming typhoon.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XXX.<br> <span class='c009'>TREACHERY.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line in18'>“He, in whom</div>
+      <div class='line'>My heart had treasured all its boast and pride,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Proves faithless.”</div>
+      <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>Euripides’ Medea.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>It was the first of November; a Sabbath
+day; it had rained all night; the dawn of
+morning found the rain still pouring down in
+torrents; it was a dark, dark day; <em>so</em> dark that
+a twilight gloom hung over all the rooms; so
+cold and wet that a damp chill pervaded the
+house. The family met at breakfast in the back
+drawing-room; a good fire had been kindled,
+but neither the cheerful fire nor the exhilarating
+coffee, could raise the spirits of the little party.
+Hagar was wretchedly pale and haggard;
+Raymond’s gaiety was so evidently assumed as
+not to be mistaken, even by the unsuspicious
+Rosalia. Rose looked from one to the other in
+unconcealable distress. Seeing that Raymond
+tried to make himself agreeable, while Hagar
+fully indulged her gloom, Rose again, as usual,
+settled it in her own mind that Hagar was the
+offending, and Raymond the suffering party.
+When they arose from the table, when Raymond
+walked to the front drawing-room window and
+stood there looking out upon the black sky and
+pouring rain, and when Hagar rising withdrew
+from the room and went up stairs, Rose looked
+around in perplexity, in a sort of sad lostness,
+not knowing what to do with herself, scarce
+feeling able to keep her feet, for loneliness and
+dreariness. At length with sudden inspiration
+she ran up stairs to seek Hagar. She entered
+her bed-chamber without knocking, and found
+her seated alone by the window, in an attitude
+of deep dejection. She went up to her, and
+throwing her arms around her neck, burst into
+tears, weeping freely over her shoulder. Hagar
+quietly disengaged her arms, and gently pushed
+her off. Rosalia sank upon a cushion at her
+feet, and dropping her head upon her lap, sobbed
+out—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hagar! oh! what <em>is</em> the matter? Hagar!
+tell me, what <em>is</em> the matter? Oh! dear me!
+The house grows more sorrowful every day!
+Time passes like a funeral train leading shortly
+to the grave. Oh! I feel faint, sick, dying of
+gloom, of coldness and darkness in seeing your
+sorrow and not being admitted to share it, and
+not being able to do anything to alleviate it.
+Hagar! tell me; perhaps I <em>can</em> do something for
+you; I love you so much, dear Hagar! and
+surely <em>love</em> can help sorrow to bear her burden.
+Oh! Hagar! let me do something for you!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She was looking <em>so</em> beautiful! <em>so</em> winsome!
+with her pleading, coaxing attitude and expression,
+with her soft white fingers pressed together,
+with her blue eyes raised floating in tenderness
+and love to her face. She was looking so
+beautiful! so graceful! so irresistibly charming
+in her childlike humility and gentleness! Hagar
+thought of her husband’s heart, and looked at
+Rosalia. The fire flamed in and out upon her
+cheeks, burned on her lips, and shot lightning
+through her eyes;—rising, she pushed Rosalia
+off, and walked away.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! it is I! It is <em>I</em>, who have offended
+you somehow! what have I done, Hagar? dear
+Hagar!” exclaimed Rose, following her, weeping.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Nothing! nothing! Oh! go away!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Have I not done something to offend you?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Nothing, Rosalia! Oh leave the room;
+do!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You are angry with me!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No! no! not with <em>you</em>!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“With whom, then?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Rosalia! leave the room this moment when
+I tell you; haven’t I said that I would not be
+questioned?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hagar! yes, I will go. One word, let me
+say one word, and then I <em>will</em> go. Hagar, I
+suppose it is Raymond—you are angry with him.
+Hagar! oh! <em>do not</em> treat him so badly, cruelly;
+make up with him; please <em>do</em>; see how unhappy
+he is! see how hard he tries to be pleasant; but
+he cannot disguise his sorrow. Oh! dear me!
+what <em>does</em> make you two fall out so? Oh! dear
+me! I do wish I was in Heaven—<em>all I love here
+do make me suffer so much! so much!</em>” and she
+fell sobbing into a chair, while the dark clouds
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_124'>124</span>lowered, and the rain pattered heavily upon the
+window.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>At last Rosalia arose and left the chamber,
+crossed the hall, and entered the nursery. Mrs.
+Barnes and the housekeeper were both engaged
+dressing the children; they were now nearly five
+months old, and when they saw Rosalia enter,
+both began to bound in their nurse’s arms, to
+crow and laugh, and hold out their hands joyously
+to Rosalia. The clouds fled from the young girl’s
+face before the morning sun of their innocence
+and love, and a tender smile softened her gentle
+countenance as she floated towards them, murmuring
+in low music—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“God bless my darlings! God love my
+angels! <em>they</em> are glad to see me <em>always</em>!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>As the children were now dressed she sat
+down in a large chair, and received them both
+into her arms, saying, as they fondled on her—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Now, Mrs. Collins, and Mrs. Barnes, <em>both</em>
+of you go down to breakfast <em>together</em>—you must
+breakfast together sociably such a dreary day as
+this; I will mind the babies till you come back.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>It was the custom for one of the two matrons to
+remain in the nursery while the other took her
+meals. This morning, glad to be relieved by
+Rosalia’s kindness, they set the room in order,
+mended the fire, making it blaze cheerfully, and
+then, while Rose stood up with the children, they
+wheeled the easy chair in front of it, and left the
+room together. Rose resumed her seat in front
+of the blazing fire; it was a large, deep, soft
+chair, whose wide arms held the maiden and the
+babies very comfortably. Rose loved luxury,
+and she revelled with the babies in that easy
+chair, while the fire glowed before her, and the
+rain pattered without.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Let me strike out a bird’s-eye view of this
+family as they now stood. It is but daguerreotyping
+the sky before the descent of the thunderbolt.
+Raymond walked gloomily up and down
+the dim vista of the two drawing-rooms, pausing
+now and then at the windows to look out upon
+the dense, dark clouds that hung like a pall over
+all things, and to listen to the beating rain.
+Hagar sat gloomily in her dressing-room, gloomily
+as we once saw her sit in her childhood in the
+attic of Heath Hall. Her elbows propped upon
+her knees, her pale face dropped in the palms of
+her hands, while her hair fell out of curl all over
+her; it was an attitude and expression of utter
+desolation.—The blackened sky, the beating
+rain, were unheeded in the deeper darkness of her
+own heart, in this deep darkness where was
+gathering the lightning, was lurking the thunderbolt.
+Rosalia still sat in the large chair playing
+with the babies, fondled by them, talking that
+sweet baby-talk, melodious, but unintelligible as
+a bird-song to any one but women and children.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Then the door was thrown widely back, and
+Hagar stood within it, with her thin face thrown
+out in ghastly relief by her black hair and black
+dress; she came towards Rosalia and paused,
+gazing with an expression of anguish striking
+fiercely through her set eyes. Rosalia looked up
+in surprise and distress.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Give me the children, Rosalia! give them
+to me! they are mine! they are like me! they
+are <em>all</em> mine! Give them here! You shall not
+wile <em>their</em> love from me also! Give! give
+them to me! they are my only consolation.
+<em>Why</em> don’t you give them to me?” exclaimed
+she, wildly holding out her arms. Rosalia, in
+fear and bewilderment, gazed on her with dilated
+and dilating eyes, scarcely distinguishing, certainly
+not comprehending, one word of her wild
+appeal. “Give! give them to me!” again
+exclaimed Hagar, snatching the children to her
+bosom, “and go, Rosalia! go! go! go!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Rosalia got up from the chair, and pressing
+both small hands upon her white temples, stood
+in amazement.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<span class='sc'>Will</span> you go?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Rosalia dropped her hands, clasping them
+together, and so left the room, passed down stairs
+in a dreary, bewildering sorrow, and entered the
+dusky drawing-room. <em>Raymond Withers was
+reclining with veiled eyes, in a day-dream on
+the lounge.</em> Seeing him she went and sank
+down on the carpet by his side, dropping her
+head upon the side of the lounge in childlike
+sorrow and humility, exclaiming—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! Raymond, my heart is broken, <em>broken</em>!
+I am chilled to death in this cold, <em>cold</em> place—oh!
+Raymond, where on the wide sea are my
+friends? Send me to them—<em>do</em>, Raymond; I
+shall <em>die</em> if I stay here—<em>die—die</em>! I shall!”
+and heart-breaking sobs burst from her lips
+between every sentence. Up sprang Raymond
+from his recumbent position, exclaiming as the
+fire shot through his spirit-piercing blue eyes—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Has Hagar! has that kite, that wild-cat of
+mine been teasing you, poor dove?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Don’t! hush! no!—oh, don’t call her ill
+names! don’t—it is so dreadful in <em>you two</em> to
+quarrel so!” He was looking straight in her
+face. “It kills me to see it, Raymond! Oh!
+do send me to Captain Wilde and Sophie. I
+cannot please you two, though I have tried so
+hard to be good—oh! haven’t I? But you
+don’t love me, and you don’t seem to love each
+other; and you make each other suffer so much—<em>you
+two!</em> and you make <em>me</em> suffer so much—and
+great God! what is it all about?” Her
+tears gushed forth again, she buried her face in
+the cushions of the lounge, and sobbed as though
+her heart were struggling in its death throes.
+<em>His</em> manner changed; he governed himself, or
+rather he resumed his usual tranquillity of attitude
+and expression, leaning over her fair head, while
+his elbow rested on the end of the lounge, and
+his moist and dishevelled golden locks trailed
+over the delicate white hand that supported his
+cheek; with the other hand he stroked her hair,
+stroked it down and down, while her bosom rose
+and fell, and sobbed itself into quietness. She
+was at rest—sweetly at rest. It seemed as if,
+baby-like, she had wept herself sleepy there,
+kneeling on the carpet by his side, with her face
+upon the cushions of his lounge, his delicate hand
+stroking her head. She was going to sleep; the
+sobs and sighs came deeper and at long and
+longer intervals; at last they ceased entirely,
+her head gradually turned upon its side, and she
+lay there in the sweet, deep slumber of a child
+that has cried itself to sleep. How beautiful she
+was in her unconscious innocence! Her hands
+lay folded one over the other upon the cushion,
+and her side face rested upon them; tear-drops
+sparkled on her drooping eye-lashes and on her
+glowing cheeks like bright dew on the red rose;
+her fresh lips were slightly apart, revealing the
+small pearly teeth, and her golden hair fell in
+moist and tangled ringlets over her.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_125'>125</span>He had tranquillized <em>her</em> passion of grief, but
+now as he gazed down on her sweet face, watching
+the color deepen in her cheeks, watching the
+regular rise and fall of her beautiful bosom, and
+the quiver of her crimson lip, moved by her
+breathing, an emotion arose swelling, heaving in
+his breast, like the mighty power of the subterranean
+fire rising in the volcano. It was
+advancing upon, it was overwhelming him; he
+must escape—he called her—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Rosalia! Rosalia!” She started out of her
+slumber, and gazed up bewildered for a moment.
+“You must go to your own room, Rosalia; you
+are not well,” said he, looking away from her.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Alas! are you angry with me too? <em>You</em>,
+Raymond? Every one drives me away, every
+one! Oh! Father in heaven, what have I done?
+Hagar sent me away from her, and then from
+the children, and now <em>you</em> send me off.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>And the child dropped her head, and wept
+again.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Go to your room, Rose, go,” exclaimed
+Raymond, rising and walking away in strong
+agitation.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! Raymond, you! <em>you, too!</em> to grow cruel
+to me! Oh, Raymond, what have I done that
+every one should repulse me—every one that I
+love!” she cried, following him; “oh, Raymond,
+if I have done anything wrong, scold me;
+I had rather stay here with you and be scolded,
+than go away by myself; tell me what I have
+done, that you all should repulse me so much,
+that all I love should drive me from them?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He waved her a gesture of desperate rejection
+as he still walked away, until he reached the
+window, where he stood, setting his teeth sternly,
+folding his arms in a strong rivet, bracing every
+nerve, and staring with set eyes unconsciously
+through the panes; she followed him, stood by
+his side, pleading, cooing in her dove-like tones.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Girl! you will madden me! go! go!” he
+exclaimed, without turning around.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Tell me! just tell me how I have offended
+you all, Raymond? Oh! I am <em>so</em> unhappy! so
+lonesome—no one loves me now! tell me why?”
+She laid her soft hand upon his arm, and, bending
+forward, looked up in his face with her tender
+and coaxing gaze.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The effect was electrical! Turning, he suddenly
+caught and strained her to his bosom, exclaiming,
+“My flower! my dove! my lamb!
+my angel! Rose! <em>oh, Rose!</em>” and pressing
+burning kisses upon her brow and lips between
+every breath and word. “Love you! I love
+you; more than life, soul, Heaven, God! Love
+you! my joy, my destiny! <em>love you!</em> let me
+have you and die! give yourself to me, and the
+next hour let me die, die!” His arm encircled
+her beautiful and shuddering form like a chain
+of fire, and hot kisses rained upon her face.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>And she! Tides of blood rolled up and over
+bosom, cheek, and brow, like flame, and passed,
+and then she grew faint and weak in his grasp,
+the color all paled in her cheeks, leaving them
+snowy white; the light fled from her eyes, leaving
+them dim and heavy with drooping lids—aye,
+the very brightness seemed to fade from her
+golden ringlets, leaving the pale yellow hair
+falling away from ashy brows and temples—she
+seemed fainting, dying in his embrace; alarmed,
+he looked at her—his reason returned—he bore
+her to the sofa, and laying her on it knelt by her
+side, gazed mournfully at her, half believing her
+to be expiring.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Rosalia! oh, God! what have I done!”
+She shuddered from head to foot. “Rosalia!
+oh, I am <em>so</em> sorry, <em>so</em> sorry, Rose!” She raised
+her heavy eyelids languidly, and fixed them
+sorrowfully on his face, then dropped them as a
+quick flush spread over her face, faded, and left
+her pale, paler than ever. “Rose! Rose! forgive
+me, I was mad, mad.” Again she looked
+at him mournfully, her pale lips moved, but no
+sound came thence. “Rosalia! oh, Rosalia!
+speak to me—say that you forgive me, or put
+your hand in mine in token of forgiveness!”
+She raised one pale hand feebly, but it fell heavily
+upon the sofa again. “You <em>do</em> forgive me,
+Rosalia, my pure angel! my holy angel! you
+<em>do</em> forgive me!” Rosalia shook her head sadly—Raymond
+dropped his face into his hands and
+groaned; soon he felt his hands touched by a soft
+hand that struck the whole “electric chain” of his
+being; dropping his hands he saw Rosalia looking
+sadly, lovingly at him, murmuring very faintly,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Forgive <em>me</em>, the fault was <em>mine</em>—mine <em>first</em>,
+mine <em>only</em>; the sin of ignorance—alas! I have
+nothing to forgive! forgive <em>me</em>!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Rose! my Rose!” She sighed deeply. He
+knelt by her side and gazed mournfully in her
+face. She could not bear that gaze; raising her
+hands feebly she spread them over her face. He
+groaned “God! my God! why do I love you
+so! she was right after all—poor Hagar!”
+Deep sighs broke from Rosalia’s bosom; she
+made many feeble attempts to rise and go away;
+he did not attempt to prevent her; but an overpowering
+weakness overcame her; she yielded
+to the spell that held her enchained, and so she
+lay—her face concealed by the veil of golden
+curls she had dragged across it; her frame shuddering
+from time to time until she sank in the
+collapse of exhaustion. And there he knelt—reproaching
+himself bitterly, yet sinning on—gazing
+eagerly with his lips struck apart at her
+pale cheek through its glittering veil of hair,
+watching, silently praying for a responsive
+glance. At last, he said, “Rosalia! darling
+Rose, go to your room, love; it is not safe or
+well to stay here—go, Rose,” she gave him her
+hand, and he raised her up.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He raised her up—she stood pale, trembling,
+bewildered, weak; and walked with tottering
+steps towards the door. He went and opened it—held
+it open for her—she passed; and as she
+passed, raised her eyes to his face, met his eyes
+full of anguish looking down upon hers, turned,
+and threw herself in his arms, exclaiming,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, Raymond! Raymond! you are <em>so</em> unhappy!—<em>I</em>
+am so miserable to see you thus! Oh!
+Raymond, is it I? is it I that have made you so?
+Tell me! tell me! can I dissipate it?—can I
+drive your sadness away? Would my death do
+it, Raymond? I would <em>die</em> for you! Oh! Raymond,
+it does not seem to me to be wrong to
+love you, love you so!—to love you so!” She
+hung heavily upon his bosom.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Go! go! go! go, Rose!—go, mad girl!”
+he cried, tearing her away from his bosom, and
+almost fiercely pushing her through the door,
+and shutting it abruptly upon her—then walking
+wildly up and down the floor, like a chafed tiger
+in his cage, grinding together his teeth, and exclaiming,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_126'>126</span>“She loves me!—loves me!—loves me!—me
+first!—me only!—as she never loved before!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Rosalia crept slowly up the stairs—reached
+her own room, and threw herself upon her bed,
+her senses whirling in a bewildered maze. The
+sound of the pouring rain became painfully distinct
+in the dead silence. The dinner hour
+arrived. The servants came in to lay the cloth.
+Raymond Withers walked to the window to
+conceal his still unsubdued agitation. When all
+was ready, the ladies were, as usual, summoned
+by a message. Soon Hagar entered. Raymond
+met her at the door, with a troubled, gloomy
+look, and giving her his arm, conducted her to
+the table. He looked around, and uneasily
+watched the door, but did not inquire for Rosalia.
+She, also, waited for the entrance of the girl,
+expecting her every instant. At last she said to
+the servant in attendance,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Let Miss Aguilar know that dinner is
+ready.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The man left the room and soon returned—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Miss Aguilar is not well, and begs to be
+excused,” he said.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>They raised their eyes, and met each other’s
+gaze of inquiry at the same moment, but neither
+asked a question, or made a comment upon her
+absence—each was silent from a private motive
+of his or her own. Hagar supposed that her
+harshness had deeply wounded the sensitive girl
+(as it really had), and that that was the reason
+of her absence—while Raymond, of course,
+<em>knew</em> the real cause.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The dreary meal was over—they arose from
+the table—Hagar was preparing to leave the
+room. Raymond went after her, and took her
+hand, looking with a troubled expression into her
+face—she met that strange look with a sad, inquiring
+gaze.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Where are you going, Hagar?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Up stairs.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Will you not stay, and pass the afternoon
+with <em>me</em>, Hagar?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She looked at him in anxious, in sorrowful
+perplexity.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Do</em>, Hagar—I need you so much now!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Ah! for want of more attractive company!”
+exclaimed she; and laughing bitterly, threw off
+his hand, and left the room.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar, half repenting her harshness to Rosalia,
+and entirely ignorant of the scene that followed,
+went to the girl’s room, to inquire concerning
+her health. She entered it. Rosalia
+was lying on the bed, with both open hands
+spread over her face—pressed upon her face—she
+did not remove them as Hagar entered. This
+Hagar attributed to resentment. She went and
+stood by her bed in silence an instant, and then
+called to her—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Rosalia!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She started—shuddered.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Are you ill, Rosalia?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>A silent nod was her reply.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Can I do anything for you?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She shook her head, in mournful negation.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Will you have anything?—speak!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Nothing.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Where are you ill?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“All over.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What <em>will</em> you have, Rosalia?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Solitude!</em>”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Are you angry, Rose?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I suspect you are!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar went up to her, and drew her hands
+away from her face. The hands were icy cold—the
+face snowy pale. To avoid Hagar’s
+glance, she closed her eyes, while a shudder ran
+all over her frame. Hagar went into her own
+room, poured out a glass of wine, and brought it
+to her. She waved it off, and turned her face to
+the wall. After some further fruitless attempts
+to aid her, and after finding that all her efforts
+increased the girl’s distress, Hagar left the room,
+thoroughly persuaded that Rosalia was sulking
+with <em>her</em>, and determining to send Mrs. Collins
+in to her. The housekeeper entered—there was
+a sternness about the expression of her shut
+mouth and solid-looking chin, that we have
+never seen there before, as she looked at the
+languid girl.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What is the matter, Miss Aguilar?” she inquired,
+rather abruptly.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Rose uncovered her face, and looking up
+with an agonized, an imploring expression,
+said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I am sick all over, and I want to go to
+Sophie!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I think if that were possible it would be very
+well.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Is it not possible, then—can’t I—oh, <em>can’t</em> I
+go?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Your friends are on the sea, Miss Aguilar, I
+presume.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And is there <em>no</em> way to get to them—no
+way, oh, my God! to escape?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I do not know much of these things, Miss
+Aguilar, but I should think it were quite out of
+the question.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No way, oh! my God, to escape!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What do you mean, Miss Aguilar, by that?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I mean—oh! I mean—that I am <em>crazy</em>—and
+have no one to love me and take care of
+me <em>till I come to my senses</em>!” said Rose, pressing
+her temples. “I am done to death—<em>done
+to death</em>!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I do not understand you, Miss Aguilar,”
+said the old lady, seating herself, and looking
+steadily and severely at the pale girl.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Don’t look so hard at me, Mrs. Collins,
+please don’t—oh! I am <em>crazy</em>!—yes, I must be!—yes,
+I must be! Oh! Mrs. Collins, I have
+been delirious—delirious within the last hour,
+and I am insane still!—<em>Insane still!</em> I—oh!
+my God!—I did not know before that people
+<em>could</em> be crazy and <em>know</em>, and not be able to
+get well!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>What has turned you crazy, Miss
+Aguilar?</em>”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! don’t call me ‘Miss Aguilar,’ <em>every
+time</em>, and don’t look so hard at me!” cried
+Rose, covering her face with her hands.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<span class='sc'>God</span> is looking at you, Miss Aguilar, and
+you cannot cover your face from Him!” said
+the old lady, severely.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I do not wish to, indeed,” replied Rose,
+meekly, uncovering her face again, “I do not
+wish to; but I <em>do</em> wish He would take me away—would
+catch me up from the earth—would
+send my angel mother to fetch me!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Mrs. Collins did not reply to this; she sat
+the bed, seemingly unwilling to converse with
+her. At last she said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_127'>127</span>“Did you ever mention to your cousin your
+wish to return to Maryland, Miss Aguilar?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, I did not.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The old lady looked disapprobation, but inquired—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“May I presume to ask <em>why</em>, Miss Aguilar?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I have made several attempts, but Hagar
+gives me no opportunity of speaking to her at
+all!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Not to-day, Miss Aguilar?—not a half hour
+before this?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, to-day—to-day—I <em>could</em> not talk to
+her—could not <em>look</em> at her or bear her look!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The old lady now grew positively pale, and
+shrank away from the side of the girl. Rosalia
+followed the gesture with deprecating eyes.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You must excuse me, Miss Aguilar, but all
+this is very horrible—very!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She was silent again for a long time, and then
+she said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You spoke, Miss Aguilar, of your wish to
+follow your friend, Mrs. Wilde; as that is quite
+impossible, why not now go back to Maryland
+to your future moth—to Mrs. Buncombe?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, yes; I will do that, if they will let
+me—I wish to do it!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Mrs. Withers will very gladly assist your
+departure, Miss Aguilar.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Will <em>you</em> ask her?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I will.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Go now and do it; let it all be arranged
+during these rainy days, so that as soon as the
+bad weather is over I shall be able to set out;
+it is no use to put off the journey until we can
+write to Emily and she can reply to our letter or
+come after me; <em>that</em> would make the interval
+too long. Some one will be travelling down to
+Washington just at this season. Yes, members
+of Congress will be going soon, and Hagar can
+send me with some gentleman’s family; or, at
+all events, I can travel alone—I am not afraid
+of water now! not now! My God! not of
+death in any shape or form. Go now! go to
+Hagar, Mrs. Collins!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The old lady arose and left the room, full of
+the darkest suspicions; she found Hagar in the
+nursery. After a little desultory conversation,
+she remarked, as composedly as she could—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I have just come from the chamber of Miss
+Aguilar; I think there is nothing as yet the matter
+with her health of body; her mind seems
+disturbed, disordered, depressed.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar, of course, knew <em>that</em>; but attributed it
+to the wounded spirit—wounded by her own recent
+harshness. The old lady continued—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And she expresses a wish to return to Maryland!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Indeed! Does she?” exclaimed Hagar, looking
+up.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, and I think the change of air and scene
+would benefit her spirits.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The color was coming back to Hagar’s cheek,
+and the light to her eye. The old lady went on
+to say—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Her health is delicate, I think, and our climate
+is severe—very severe—and if I might
+venture, I should advise that she be sent down
+without delay to Maryland, to spend the winter.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar was sitting in an attitude of aroused and
+hopeful thought, with her elbow resting on the
+crib, finger on her lip and eyes raised, while life
+and light were tiding back, till face and ringlets
+flashed bright again.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And she really wishes this, Mrs. Collins?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“She really does.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Does she complain of her position here?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“N-no, not exactly—certainly she complains
+of <em>no one</em>—so far from that, she speaks as usual
+with the utmost affection of all.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Mrs. Collins, noticing the eloquent expression
+of returning hope upon Hagar’s face, ventured to
+remark—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And there are <em>other</em> reasons why this journey
+should be hurried, Mrs. Withers”—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>But, with a dignified gesture of the hand, Hagar
+arrested her speech.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No matter for other reasons, Mrs. Collins;
+you have given enough. I will write immediately
+to Mrs. Buncombe, and you will be so
+kind as to go to Miss Aguilar’s room, and tell
+her that every arrangement shall be made for her
+journey without delay; tell her I should like to
+see and converse with her as soon as she feels
+well enough to receive me; and as you go, send
+the housemaid in to me.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The housekeeper left the room, and soon the
+maid entered it.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Sarah, go to Miss Aguilar, and tell her that
+you are ready to assist her in preparing her
+wardrobe for her journey—she is going to make
+a visit.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Raymond received the news of Rosalia’s intended
+departure in gloomy silence. It was a
+strange thing to see Raymond Withers gloomy—he
+who had borne himself through all scenes
+with such gay nonchalance. Rosalia appeared
+at the breakfast-table next morning, looking pale
+and pensive, and withdrew from it as soon as
+she possibly could.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“That girl looks badly,” remarked Raymond,
+making an effort at conversation.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes,” replied Hagar.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Have you taken it into consideration that
+she cannot travel alone down South?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes; she wishes you to inquire and procure
+for her an escort.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I will do so,” said he, and turned to receive
+the packet of letters and papers from the servant,
+who had just brought them from the Post-office.
+He opened one or two letters, ran his eyes over
+them, and carelessly threw them aside. One,
+however, caught his particular attention; he
+started on seeing it—he read it with great care.
+Hagar arose to leave the room, but he arrested
+her by a gesture; she returned and sat down;
+he continued his reading carefully to the end,
+folded the letter, and holding it in his hand, fell
+into thought, lost consciousness of his wife’s presence,
+and was only aroused from his lethargy
+by her rising a second time to leave the room.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Stay, Hagar,” said he.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But wherefore? I wish to go to the children,
+and you seem quite absorbed in thought; no bad
+news I trust, though indeed there is no one from
+whom it is likely we should hear bad news.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, there is no bad news—but this <em>is</em> rather
+an important mail,” said he, laying the letter on
+the table before her. “You may remember that
+Wilde has been teasing me for a long time to
+accept his influence in procuring me a post under
+the present administration, with which his political
+friends have considerable influence. I laughingly
+accepted his kind offer when he was here
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_128'>128</span>last fall, and permitted him to write his friends,
+Secretary ——, and Judge ——, about me.
+Here is the result. I need not say that it was
+wholly unexpected by me.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He handed her the letter—it was a notification
+of his appointment to the post of Consul at the
+port of ——, in the Mediterranean.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And you will accept it?” inquired she.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And I will accept it.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And take your family with you.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“By no means, love—what should I do with
+you and the children on the voyage? in your
+present condition of nervous irritability too? It
+is not to be thought of for an instant!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! Raymond,” she pleaded, involuntarily
+clasping her hands and raising her eyes imploringly
+to his face; “oh! Raymond!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, <em>nonsense</em>, love! no extravagance, now,
+I beg of you—not one word, Hagar! I cannot
+bear it, cannot be annoyed, cannot!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But, Raymond!” she persisted, laying her
+small hand gently on his arm, and looking up in
+his face seeking to catch his eye—“but, Raymond!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But <em>folly</em>, Hagar! do not trouble me; I will
+have no controversy about this—I hate controversy,
+as you very well know—I will do what I
+think best for us all—and you must be content
+with that—or <em>appear</em> content, and stop troubling
+me!” said he, averting his face.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She was standing by his side, leaning over his
+arm, and now she passed her hand up around his
+head, and trying gently to turn it around, said,
+“Raymond, look at me; <em>please</em> look in my face.”
+He looked down in her eyes inquiringly. She
+said lowly, gently, “I have a secret to tell you,
+Raymond; before you come back, I shall be a
+mother <em>again</em>,” and dropped her head upon his
+bosom too soon to see the slightly startled eye
+and the frown of vexation that contracted his
+smooth brow as he held her there; presently he
+led her to a chair and seated her—stood by her
+half embracing her shoulder, stroking her head.
+“<em>Now</em> you will not go, Raymond; or if you go,
+you will take us with you, will you not?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He did not reply for some time, and then he
+replied gently, “Be reasonable, Hagar, always.
+I am sorry, Hagar, for this—yet you know, love,
+that men frequently have to leave their wives
+under such circumstances; men of the army and
+navy all have this trial to bear.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But it is <em>their</em> profession, <em>their</em> duty, <em>they</em>
+cannot avoid it; but you can, can you not, dear
+Raymond? You can, <em>at least</em>, take us with
+you; a privilege which, with very rare exceptions,
+is not enjoyed by those in the professions
+you name.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Dear Hagar, you try my patience! Come,
+you are taking advantage of my sympathies at
+this moment, to worry me; have done with it—listen
+to me! this administration is in its third
+year—I shall probably hold this office nearly
+two years; if the same party remain in power,
+I shall probably continue to hold it—in which
+case I shall send for you and your children.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And you <em>will</em> go?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, love.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And it will be rather more than a year,
+nearly two years, before you return or send for
+us?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, love, but what is that? Officers commonly
+leave their wives for <em>three</em> years at a time.
+Come, Hagar! do not be selfish, brace yourself
+to bear a little trial that is not an unusual one
+among your sex.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! but this is so sudden! Great God!”
+and Hagar, clasping her hands, left the drawing-room
+and went to the nursery. Raymond Withers
+walked up and down the two rooms, with
+his hands clasped behind his back, with a fixed
+eye and a curdled cheek, not noticing the boy
+who entered to clear the table, and who was
+watching him attentively, and who on going to
+the kitchen, remarked in a suppressed whisper to
+the cook,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well! I never did see any man look so
+much as though he were making a sale of himself
+to the devil, as our Mr. Withers does!”</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XXXI.<br> <span class='c009'>THE LONE ONE.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>What is the worst of woes that wait on age?</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>What stamps the wrinkle deepest on the brow?</div>
+      <div class='line'>To view each loved one blighted on life’s page,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>And be alone on earth—as I am now.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>The preparations for Rosalia’s departure for
+Maryland went on rapidly. A letter had been
+received from Emily Buncombe, in reply to the
+one written by Hagar, in which she expressed
+the great degree of pleasure with which she
+should expect the arrival of her dear adopted
+daughter Rosalia. Rose had wept over the letter—there
+was none of the pleasure expressed in
+her countenance, that might naturally have been
+expected. Raymond observed it, but <em>he</em> appeared
+fully occupied with the winding up of his
+business, and with making arrangements for a
+visit to Washington, to receive his credentials
+previous to his departure on his foreign mission.
+It seemed the most natural thing in the world,
+that Raymond Withers should propose to take
+his young ward and cousin under his escort for
+the journey, and to see her safe in the house of
+her future mother-in-law—so perfectly natural
+and proper, that Hagar could find no word to
+say in objection—and Rosalia—but when did
+Rose ever object to any course proposed for her
+by another? She went on sorrowfully with her
+quiet preparations, and in a few days these were
+completed. The day of their departure drew
+near, and Hagar sank deeper into despair, that
+sometimes broke out into expressions of wildest
+anguish. Raymond wore a dark cloud of
+gloomy abstraction, of morose determination,
+from which the lightnings of a sudden anger
+would sometimes flash, when he would be exasperated
+by the wild and passionate grief and resistance
+of Hagar—sudden outbreaks of phrensied
+opposition to the overwhelming destiny
+coming on, slowly coming on, surely coming on—she
+felt it.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“It is unreasonable, Hagar, this wild grief at
+the thoughts of an absence of but two weeks,
+Hagar, only two weeks. I shall be back again
+in even <em>less</em> time, probably, and remain with you
+a month before my final departure.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Ah! ah!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Do you not believe me, then?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, I believe you! I believe you! but—”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_129'>129</span>“But, <em>what</em>?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I cannot! cannot shake off this avalanche
+of cold horror from my soul—it seems like direst
+doom bearing me down and down to perdition;
+it seems as though the end of all things were at
+hand.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hagar, it is your health, morbid nerves—you
+will get over this in a few days, after I am
+gone.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“After you are gone—yes, after you are gone,
+when all is silent for want of your voice, when
+all is dark for want of your glance, when my
+whole soul will starve for your presence—but
+you will no longer see my paleness, hear my
+moaning, or be troubled with my heart’s sorrow!”
+she would exclaim wildly and bitterly.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No more of this! you <span class='fss'>SHALL NOT</span> excite
+yourself thus in my presence. I <span class='fss'>WILL NOT</span> have
+it, you selfish and absurd woman! bah! why do
+you compel me to speak to you in this manner?
+be easy, love! go play with the babies, sing a
+song, take a ride, practise a piece of music,
+swallow an opiate, read a novel—do anything,
+rather than cling about and around me so
+tightly, that I shall have to hurt you in shaking
+you off. Go! go lie down, read a play.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Read a play!” exclaimed she, bitterly.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, go hang yourself, then!” exclaimed
+he, savagely, breaking from her, flinging himself
+out of the room, and slamming the door
+after him.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar stood where he had left her, transfixed
+with astonishment; this was the first occasion
+upon which she had ever seen him depart from
+the Chesterfieldian propriety of his usual self-possession.
+Slowly she recovered her senses;
+slowly left the room and sought her children.
+A death-like calmness settled on her pallid brow,
+she made no further opposition to his plans,
+asked no further questions of his purposes.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The night before the parting came. Their
+trunks were all down in the piazza—the carriage
+was even packed with the small bundles, so that
+there should be as little delay as possible in the
+morning, as they wished to reach the village in
+time to meet the morning boat, which passed
+about the break of day. Supper was served an
+hour earlier, so that they might all retire to rest
+sooner, and be up in time. At that supper and
+during that evening, Hagar’s manner was quiet—quiet
+as death, except that from under her heavy
+pallid eyelids, flamed out a gloomy, baleful fire,
+as she would fix her eyes upon Rosalia; in her
+cheek came in and out a flickering fire; her bosom
+would heave, her teeth snap with a spring,
+and her hand clinch convulsively, while a spasm
+would convulse her form. Raymond watched
+her with visible anxiety, sought to catch her now
+murky and fiery eye; in vain—he could not
+control or affect her in any way. They arose
+from the table.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Give us one more song in this room,
+Rosalia, before you leave it,” said Raymond
+Withers, leading her to the instrument—at the
+touch of his hand, waves of blood bathed the
+girl’s bosom, neck, and face, as a fire bath, and
+then receding, left her ashy pale—and tottering
+on the verge of a swoon, she sank into the
+music-chair, ran her fingers feebly and mechanically
+over the keys, striking a faint prelude,
+opened her lips to sing, stopped, dropped her
+head upon the music, and burst into tears—then
+rising suddenly, left the room. Neither Raymond
+nor Hagar attempted to prevent her—they
+looked at each other.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What an evening!—my last evening at
+home!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Your <em>last</em>!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well! my last for a week or two.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Ah!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What is the matter with <em>you</em> this evening,
+Mistress Hagar?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I want a ride, an opiate, or a novel!” laughed
+she, sardonically, then suddenly she sank into a
+chair, and subsided into the gloom of her former
+manner—an excited gloom like a smouldering
+fire—he watched her uneasily.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hagar.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Where are your children?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Asleep in the nursery, of course; where
+else should they be?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Do you not usually see them to bed yourself
+at this hour?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes! but to-night I put them to sleep an
+hour earlier, that <em>I</em> might spend the evening—<em>your
+last evening</em>, Raymond, with you!” exclaimed
+she, sarcastically.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hagar! there is a lurking phrensy in your
+look and manner that annoys me.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Ah!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Makes me uneasy.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“At last!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“There is danger in you.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<span class='sc'>There is!</span>” she exclaimed, starting with
+wild energy.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<span class='sc'>Hagar!</span>”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He caught her burning hands and held them
+with the strength of a vice, trying to catch her
+fiery and flying glances; at last they fell and
+struck into his own, quenching their fire in the
+cold, calm, liquid gaze of his mesmerizing eyes,
+then—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hagar!” he said, very softly, “why, what a
+temperament you have—will <em>nothing</em> quiet
+you?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She kept her gloomy eyes fixed upon him,
+and was about to reply, when the door opened
+softly, and Rosalia re-entered the room. Hagar
+started violently, and shuddered at her sudden
+apparition, but Raymond continued to hold one
+hand to prevent her moving, as Rosalia passed
+up to the piano, and resuming her seat, with an
+air of forced calmness, said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I have come back to sing you the song, as
+this is the last evening of my stay.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>There was an air of effort, of painful effort,
+about her singing and her deportment generally,
+very distressing to see, as if the poor girl had forced
+herself to a measure exceedingly repugnant to
+herself, for the sake of giving pleasure, or of
+deprecating blame. Raymond did not approach
+her while she sang; indeed he dared not yet
+leave the side of Hagar, who was now looking
+more like a half mesmerized maniac than anything
+else. By the time Rosalia had ceased
+singing, a servant entered with the chamber
+lamps on a waiter, and accepting that as a signal
+for breaking up, Raymond handed one to Rose,
+and bidding her good night, opened the door
+and dismissed her. Hagar, with wild eyes,
+sprang suddenly past him, and arresting Rose by
+grasping her arm, exclaimed,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Rosalia! secure your door on the inside to-night!
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_130'>130</span><em>do it!</em>” and letting fall her arm she
+returned to the room, and sank into her seat.
+Raymond was standing before her with folded
+arms and severe brow.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What is the meaning of this new phrensy,
+Hagar?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She looked up at him with fiery and bloodshot
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Raymond! I am mad! I am terrified! I
+am in the power of a passion I cannot control!
+a fiend I cannot resist! All this evening! all
+this evening! I have been impelled by an almost
+irresistible impulse! attracted by a terrible fascination!
+<em>to a crime!</em> <em>to a</em> <span class='fss'>CRIME!</span> hold me, hold
+me, Raymond! keep me away from myself—I
+am going mad! I am! I am!” her eyes were
+fiercely blazing wide, and every vein and nerve
+visibly throbbing. He went to the side-board,
+poured out and handed her a large glass of water,
+which she immediately drained. Then he
+leaned his elbow on the table, and bending forward,
+spoke to her—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“See here, Hagar, you <em>are not</em> mad, and you
+<em>shall not</em> go mad! Listen to me, and I will
+bring you to your reason very soon, and very
+thoroughly. You give way to all sorts of wild
+impulses—always <em>did</em>, always <em>will</em>—extravagant
+in every emotion, frantic in every passion; from
+the love of your children to the hatred of your
+fancied rival; from the adoration visited upon
+me to the worship tendered God; from your
+taste for horses, to your talent for harmony; all,
+all extravagance; I naturally expect it from
+you; but there is a limit to your license, mistress;
+you are not to grow malignant or dangerous in
+any way; harmless and quiet lunatics may go at
+large; phrensied, mad women must be confined;
+harmless lunatics may be permitted to remain in
+the house with children, maniacs must be kept
+away from them. I am going to leave the
+country. I cannot think of leaving my children
+within reach of a woman, subject to visitations
+of irresistible impulses and terrible fascinations
+to deeds of blood—I must see her calm. You
+are calm now, I think, Hagar! quite cooled
+down, are you not? Say, Hagar?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She was. The color had all faded away
+from her face, and she sat with haggard eyes
+fixed upon her clasped hands.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Will you retire to rest now, as we leave so
+early in the morning?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She arose and walked quietly to her room—he
+followed her after a while. She did not sleep
+all night, but lay quietly with her fingers pressed
+around her forehead. Before the first faint grey
+of morning dawned, Mrs. Collins rapped at their
+door to say that breakfast was ready. In half
+an hour from that the travellers had dressed,
+breakfasted, and stood grouped in the chilly hall,
+while the carriage was rolling up to the door.
+It stood still—the driver jumped down, opened
+the door, let down the steps, and remained waiting
+by its side.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hagar!” said Raymond Withers, turning
+pale, as he went to her and opened his arms.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You last—you last!” she exclaimed, hastily
+kissing Rosalia, and turning, throwing herself into
+his arms.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Come, Rosalia,” said he, and drawing her
+arm through his own, and descending the stone
+stairs, he handed the pale and trembling girl into
+the carriage—she turned around to take a last
+view of her late home, and her eye fell upon <em>this
+picture</em>, a picture ever after distinctly present to
+her mind—the portico, with its slender white
+marble pillars visible in the grey of the morning,
+the front door partly open, revealing the
+lamplight in the passage-way, which struck
+across the stone floor and fell upon the haggard
+form and face of Hagar, as she stood there in her
+desolation, as she stood there leaning against the
+pillar, with her pale countenance struck out into
+ghastly relief by the dishevelled black hair falling
+down each side of her cheeks, and meeting the
+black boddice of her dress; but one glimpse Rosalia
+caught of that death-like face seen through
+the cold grey morning light, and against and intercepting
+the glancing and oblique rays of the
+gleaming lamplight, but one glimpse as the carriage
+door closed upon her, yet that despairing
+look was never absent from her mind; it went
+with her on her journey, pursued her through
+life, and unto death. The carriage rolled away,
+and Hagar, turning, fell lifeless upon the threshold
+of her own door!</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XXXII.<br> <span class='c009'>THE TEMPTED ANGEL.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line in10'>“A spirit pure as hers</div>
+      <div class='line'>Is always pure, e’en when it errs,</div>
+      <div class='line'>As sunshine broken in the rill,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Though turned astray is sunshine still.”</div>
+      <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>Moore.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>“You are weeping, Rosalia; why do you
+weep?” asked Raymond Withers, taking the seat
+by her side as soon as the carriage door was
+closed upon them; “why do you weep so, dear
+Rosalia?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Alas!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And why ‘alas,’ Rose?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hagar! Hagar!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And what about her?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“She suffers so! she suffers so!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Can</em> she suffer, Rosalia? <em>can</em> her fierce, high
+nature suffer <em>at all</em>, Rosalia?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, can’t you see it; can’t you see it?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I can see she is angry and defiant; but for
+the rest, Rosalia, I never saw her shed a tear in
+my life; did you?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“When <em>you</em> suffer you weep, do you not?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Always?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, yes!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Very well then, Rose; when you see or hear
+that Hagar Withers <em>weeps</em>, believe that she sorrows,
+and not <em>till</em> then; you are weeping still;
+weep on my bosom, Rose!” and he drew her
+within his arms and laid her head against his
+breast.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The carriage stopped at the steamboat hotel
+upon the river’s side, the boat had not yet arrived,
+though day was breaking fast, and the
+Eastern horizon already looking rosy. Raymond
+Withers took Rosalia into the parlor of
+the hotel, and having seated her, went out and
+dismissed the carriage, and returning to her, said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Remain here, dear Rosalia, until I step to
+the Post-office to see if there be any letter come
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_131'>131</span>in last night’s mail for any of us. I will return
+in five minutes.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He went out. The Post-office was near at
+hand; he reached it, and had just received a
+packet of letters and papers, when the sound of
+the approaching boat warned him to hurry on.
+Giving orders to a porter to carry their baggage
+on board, he hurried in, took Rosalia under his
+arm, hastened down to the beach, went on board,
+and the next moment they were carried rapidly
+down the river. Rosalia went into the ladies’
+cabin to put off her bonnet, and Raymond retired
+to read his letters. One letter fixed his attention;
+it was directed in a well known hand, and postmarked
+Norfolk; he walked up and down the
+guards of the boat buried in deep thought; at
+length he went to the door of the ladies’ cabin,
+and calling the stewardess, told her to request
+Miss Aguilar to throw on her shawl and come
+up. Rosalia soon appeared at the head of the
+gangway. He offered her his arm and carried
+her up to the hurricane deck, that was at this
+hour vacant; they sat down on one of the rude
+benches (steamboats were not the floating palaces
+<em>then</em> that they are <em>now</em>), the sun was just rising,
+and lighting up into flashing splendor the gorgeous
+glories of the landscape, the river flowed
+like liquid gold between high banks of agate and
+of emerald; but it was not upon the magnificent
+river scenery that he looked.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Rosalia, I have a letter here from Gusty
+May.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She changed color.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“His ship, or rather Captain Wilde’s ship, has
+been in an engagement!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, my God!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hush—all your friends are safe.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But, oh! <em>somebody’s</em> friends are killed, or
+wounded!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Probably, my sweet girl; but they have
+been in an engagement and taken a prize—captured
+a slave ship!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, sweet Providence! Sophie exposed in a
+battle with a pirate!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But, my gentle girl, Sophie is <em>well</em>—but they
+have captured a prize, and Gusty May has been
+intrusted with the command of the vessel, and
+has brought it home—that is, to Norfolk!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“To Norfolk! Gusty now in Norfolk!” exclaimed
+Rosalia, growing pale.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes; and he writes that just as soon as he
+can obtain leave of absence, he is coming to see
+you”—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Rosalia trembled so much that he had to pass
+his arm around her waist to keep her in her seat.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“He says that he intends to call at Churchill’s
+Point to see his mother on his way to see us”—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Rosalia seemed upon the verge of a swoon;
+he tightened his hold around her waist and went
+on speaking—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“He incloses this letter to you,” and opening
+his own envelope, Raymond Withers took out a
+delicately folded letter and handed it to her; she
+received it with a trembling hand, broke the seal,
+glanced over the contents, the letter dropped
+from her stiffening fingers, her face grew white
+as death, her lips paled and fell apart, her eyes
+closed, and she sank into a swoon upon his bosom.
+He held her there without alarm or embarrassment;
+he stooped and picked up the letter
+she had let fall. He glanced over it—it was
+full of the youthful lover’s exultant young life;
+one page was filled with glowing accounts of the
+battle, the victory, the prize; another with passionate
+protestations of love, fervent aspirations
+after a speedy re-union, &#38;c., &#38;c.; but upon the
+page upon which her eyes had been fixed when
+she swooned, was an expression of a hope that
+she would bestow her hand upon him during his
+present visit, assuring her that he bore with him
+letters to that effect from Captain Wilde and
+from Sophie. Rosalia opened her eyes just before
+he finished reading it. He raised her partly off
+his arm, and said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, Rosalia, I have read your letter or the
+greater part of it, do you care?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No—oh, no!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, Rosalia, you will probably meet your
+betrothed at the house of your intended mother-in-law.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, I had rather die! die!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Rosalia!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, I had! I had a <em>thousand times</em> rather
+die than <em>meet</em> him! much less marry him!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Rosalia, there is one way to avoid it.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She looked at him in painful inquiry.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Go with me to the Mediterranean!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She started violently—again the blood rushed
+in torrents to her face, and passing, left it pale as
+marble. She did not attempt a reply in words—he
+continued,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Captain Wilde is cruising in the Mediterranean.
+Sophie is either with him or residing with
+the family of some English or American Consul
+at some convenient seaport. I can easily
+find out. I can very easily take you to them,
+to Captain and Mrs. Wilde, if you would prefer
+that to living with Mrs. Buncombe.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, yes, indeed I should so prefer it, greatly
+prefer it, but could it be done? is it right that it
+should be done? Will Mrs. Buncombe think it
+proper? and will Hagar approve of it? I wish
+this letter had come a day sooner, so that we
+might have consulted Hagar!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Raymond Withers smiled a strange smile as
+he said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Whatever Mrs. Buncombe may say or think,
+I do not imagine that Hagar will be much surprised,
+or that Sophie Wilde will fail to give
+you a most enthusiastic welcome <em>when she sees
+you</em>!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“If I thought it were possible, that is to say,
+convenient and agreeable all around, and perfectly
+right and proper in every respect, I—oh, I
+should be so happy to go! but though I do not
+know <em>why</em>, indeed, I am afraid it is not right.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Would <em>I</em> suggest a measure to you, Rosalia,
+that is not right?” he asked, reproachfully.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, no—oh, certainly not—I did not mean
+<em>that</em>.” He looked at her steadily.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And yet I don’t know! I don’t know!
+Why do you look at me so? Why do you look
+at me so—growing beautiful and more beautiful
+every instant—growing bright and brighter until
+you seem, not a man, but a star, a sun flashing
+into my very <em>brain</em>, bewildering, making me
+dizzy! striking me blind with light! Ah! I am
+delirious again! Save me, Sophie! save me,
+mother!” and with a sharp cry, half laugh, half
+shriek, she fell into his arms. He stooped his
+head and whispered,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You are mine, <em>mine</em>, <span class='fss'>MINE</span>! Rosalia, I have
+manœuvred, intrigued, and waited for this hour.
+I have brought a high heart to the earth, trodden
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_132'>132</span>a proud heart to the dust, crushed a strong heart
+to death in pursuit of this hour. You are mine,
+<span class='fss'>MINE</span>, girl! I have bought you with a price, a
+high price! I have given up country, home,
+wife, and children; resigned integrity, pride, and
+ambition, and risked fair fame. Ah, God! I
+pay dearly for you, Rosalia!”</p>
+
+<hr class='c013'>
+
+<p class='c008'>Three weeks from this day Rosalia sat alone
+in a private parlor in one of the principal hotels
+in Washington. It was mid-winter, yet the
+room was warm, and she reclined in a snowy
+white muslin robe upon a crimson sofa that was
+drawn up in front of the glowing coal fire; her
+head rested on her arm upon the end of the
+lounge. She was changed even in these three
+weeks. The round, elastic rosy cheeks, whose
+bloom was shaded faintly and fairly off towards
+the transparent and azure veined temples, and
+the snowy chin and brow were changed, all
+were changed—the beautiful faint rose glow that
+had overspread her lovely baby-face, had now
+withdrawn and collected itself in one burning
+fever spot in either cheek, leaving her brow and
+temples pallid; and the liquid and floating light
+of her soft blue eyes, had now concentrated in
+one intense fiery spark in the centre of either
+pupil. Her attitude was still as death, yet an
+air of suppressed excitement was visible in every
+feature. The door opened, and she started up into
+a sitting position, as Raymond Withers entered;
+<em>he</em> had changed <em>back again</em>, having regained all
+his old accustomed ease and eloquence; he
+wheeled a large easy chair to the fire and sank
+down among its cushions.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Rosalia, we leave Washington in the Norfolk
+boat at six o’clock to-morrow morning.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Have you heard from Hagar?” asked she,
+faintly.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, not a word—she is sulking, never mind
+her, Rose,” replied he, an expression of pain traversing
+his countenance, nevertheless. “<em>Why</em>
+recall her?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I do not—she is ever, ever, <em>ever</em> before me!
+her pale face! oh! pale like that of a victim
+strained upon the rack! I believe Hagar is dead
+and haunts me! Oh, let me go away, Raymond!
+let me leave you!” and her face suddenly
+grew sharp and white in anguish. He looked at
+her uneasily.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Rose!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She raised her eyes to his beautiful and resplendent
+countenance, and her own softened.
+He went and sat down by her side, and caressing
+her gently, said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Rose, dear, I am no kidnapper, no pirate. I
+will take with me no unwilling companion.
+Speak, Rose, you shall have your will in this.
+Listen, dear, the Arrow steamboat in which we
+embark to-morrow morning, the boat that is to
+take me to Norfolk where the brig Argus awaits
+to convey me across the Atlantic to my destination
+on the Mediterranean—that boat you will
+recollect passes immediately by Churchill Point—how
+easy, Rose, to put you ashore there, where
+you are already expected—where Mrs. Buncombe
+already looks for you with impatience.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Rosalia shook as with an ague fit.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Where your betrothed, who has, no doubt,
+already reached there on his way to the Rialto,
+and who, having heard of your hourly expected
+arrival, awaits you with all a lover’s ardor, will
+meet you with all a lover’s enthusiasm—come,
+what do you say, Rose? come, Rose, come? I
+have a letter to write in which I must be guided
+by your decision! Come, Rose! come! Shall
+I put you on shore at Churchill Point?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Now</em>!” she exclaimed, in a tone of bitterest
+anguish. “<em>Now!</em>”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, then go back to the Rialto, return to
+Hagar.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“To Hagar!” she gasped, as a sharp spasm
+convulsed her features. “To Hagar! great
+God! death, <em>death</em> rather.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He waited until her fearful excitement subsided,
+and then, while he gently and softly caressed
+and soothed her into quietude, he murmured in a
+low, sedative tone,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I know it all, dear—I know how utterly impossible
+it is for you to go to either. I only set
+the plans before you, that you might <em>feel</em> the
+impossibility as deeply as I knew the impracticability
+of either project—and now you <em>do</em> feel
+it! and now, my gentle dove, be quiet—nestle
+sweetly in the only bosom open to you in the
+whole world;” and he drew her within his arms
+and kissed away her tears. Presently, arising,
+he said, “Now I must leave you, to write a
+letter, love.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>And going to his chamber he sat down and
+penned a short missive to Hagar. It was as
+follows:—</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-r c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line in2'><span class='sc'>Indian Queen Hotel</span>,             }</div>
+      <div class='line'>Washington City, Jan. 22, 182-. }</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-l c015'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>Dearest Hagar, mine only one—</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c017'>Yes, mine <em>only</em> Hagar—there is but one Hagar, can be
+but one Hagar in the world—after all. I shall be obliged
+to disappoint you and myself cruelly, by leaving the
+country without being able to see you first. The truth is
+this—for the last three weeks I have been dancing daily
+attendance between the President’s mansion and the
+State Department, in daily expectation of receiving my
+credentials—they were at last placed in my hands only
+four days ago—and I am to go out in the Argus, that sails
+from Norfolk within a week; so you see, love, the utter
+impossibility of our meeting again before my departure—best
+so, perhaps—I do not like parting scenes. I wrote
+to you that your cousin, Miss Aguilar, had decided to
+embrace the opportunity offered by my escort, to go out
+and rejoin her friends, Captain and Mrs. Wilde. Now,
+Hagar, do not take any absurd fancies about this, I do
+implore you. I have taken the greatest care of the
+<em>proprieties</em>, love, I assure you. The day after we arrived
+in this city, I happened to meet Lieutenant Graves,
+who was formerly on the store-ship Rainbow with Captain
+Wilde—we met him there, you will recollect—well,
+now he is stationed at the Navy Yard in this city,
+where he has a comfortable private residence, with his
+wife; he invited me to his house, knowing that his
+wife had been an almost daily companion of Mrs.
+Wilde and Miss Aguilar while they were in Boston
+harbor; I mentioned the presence of Rosalia in this
+city, and her intention of going out to the Mediterranean
+under my protection, to rejoin her friends. As I
+expected, the next day brought Mrs. Graves to our hotel
+to see Miss Aguilar, whom she invited home with her
+to spend the weeks of her sojourn in this city; nothing
+could have been more proper, more conventional, more
+completely <i><span lang="fr">comme-il-faut</span></i> than this arrangement; nothing
+could have been more <em>fortunate</em>, in fact. I bade
+Rosalia accept the courtesy, which she did at once, and
+Mrs. Graves carried Miss Aguilar home, within the walls
+of the Navy Yard, where she has remained up to this
+day. This evening Lieutenant Graves brought her back
+to our hotel, because we leave at a very early hour to-morrow
+morning. Rosalia is the bearer of many letters
+and presents from Mrs. Graves to Mrs. Wilde. All right.
+Now, Hagar, again—indulge no absurd fancies about
+this! Do not make me savage! you have not answered
+any of my letters—are you putting on airs, mistress?
+Well, you will get out of them. I am exasperated into
+writing sharply to you, by knowing instinctively what
+you will think, how you will feel, perhaps what you
+will <em>say</em>; but hold there, Hagar. Do not make me a
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_133'>133</span>by-word, by giving language to your suspicions. Whatever
+may be the broodings of your insanity, do not let
+it break forth in ravings that will subject us to calumny.
+You know my fastidiousness upon this point—please
+remember it, Hagar; and remember, <em>too</em>, that your
+eccentricities and wildness leave your sanity <em>questionable</em>
+to some minds; that your jealousies will be the
+<em>ravings of madness, and that mad women are not to be
+trusted at large, or with the care of children</em>! So, for
+your own sake, Hagar—for the sake of all you hold
+most dear, be reasonable, cautious, and calm. It distresses
+me to write to you so, love, just upon the eve of
+my departure, but you are <em>so</em> crazy—and I want you to
+try and retain the possession of your senses. Rouse
+yourself, love! go into society, cultivate and indulge all
+your favorite tastes; repurchase your little Arabian,
+and be again the gay, glad Hagar you were at the
+Heath; cultivate your music, give concerts, in which
+you shall be the prima donna—collect a congenial
+circle around you—purchase all your favorite books,
+and everything that suits your fancy—exhaust the little
+fund I have in bank, and let me know when it is gone.
+When you are weary of everything else, go and visit
+Mrs. Buncombe, at Churchill Point. Come, love, you
+have enough to occupy you during my absence. Take
+care of the babies. Rosalia sends her love to you—you
+know her aversion to writing, or any other work that
+requires mental application, and will therefore excuse
+her. Do <em>you</em> write to me immediately—direct your
+letters to Port Mahon, and send them through the State
+Department. Why do you <em>not</em> write to me?”</p>
+
+<p class='c011'>In an hour from the moment of closing and
+mailing his letter, Raymond Withers placed
+Rosalia in a hack, drove to the steamboat-wharf,
+and embarked upon the Arrow, which left for
+Norfolk the next morning at six.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XXXIII.<br> <span class='c009'>THE DESOLATED.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“Thou knowest well what once I was to thee;</div>
+      <div class='line'>One who for love of one I loved—<em>for thee!</em>—</div>
+      <div class='line'>Would have done, or borne the sins of all the world;</div>
+      <div class='line'>Who did thy bidding at thy lightest look;</div>
+      <div class='line'>And had it been to have snatched an angel’s crown</div>
+      <div class='line'>Off her bright brow as she sat singing, throned,</div>
+      <div class='line'>I would have cut these heart-strings that tie down</div>
+      <div class='line'>My soul, and let it sail to Heaven to do it—</div>
+      <div class='line'>’Spite of the thunder and the sacrilege,</div>
+      <div class='line'>And laid it at thy feet. I loved thee, lady!</div>
+      <div class='line'>I am one whose love is greater than the world’s,</div>
+      <div class='line'>And might have vied with God’s; a boundless ring,</div>
+      <div class='line'>All pressing on one point—that point, thy heart.</div>
+      <div class='line'>——But, for the future,</div>
+      <div class='line'>I will as soon attempt to entice a star</div>
+      <div class='line'>To perch upon my finger, or the wind</div>
+      <div class='line'>To follow me like a dog, as think to keep</div>
+      <div class='line'>A woman’s heart again.”</div>
+      <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>Festus</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>“Well, just once more, mother!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But this is expensive and inconvenient,
+please to remember, Mr. Gusty, and we are not
+rich.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Not rich—oh! mother, I wish you would
+take something from <em>me</em>—which you never will.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, Gusty, I had rather be extravagant with
+my own funds than with yours. I wish you to
+accumulate property, Gusty—that is to say only
+<em>this</em>—spend as little of your limited income as
+possible, lay by the balance until you get enough
+to purchase a piece of land and build a house.
+I do think that every young man should do that—I
+mean every young man with a fixed salary—of
+course men engaged in commerce may use
+their money to better advantage by investing it in
+trade. But, oh, Gusty, I do wish to see you
+have a house of your own so much; a home
+that you can improve and beautify to your own
+taste; and I do wish to see your Rosalia presiding
+over it. Come and kiss me, dear Gusty!
+dear fellow, don’t you think that I sympathize
+with your hopes?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty laughingly sprang to his mother, and
+catching her around the neck, kissed her uproariously,
+saying—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<i><span lang="fr">Ah, mais, maman maligne</span></i>, you will not
+make a feast for Rose, this evening!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! but, Gusty, see here! we have been
+making feasts every evening for a week past, and
+she has not come to eat them—and may not
+come this evening—and, Gusty, besides, if I take
+this little bride of yours here, and wish to keep
+her for four or five years, to save some hundred
+dollars of your salary annually, I must not make
+her too expensive to Buncombe. Dear Buncombe,
+he is so wise! so good! and so unobtrusive
+in his wisdom and goodness—I have already
+too much overlooked his interests and comfort
+in my economies and sacrifices for you and Rosalia—I
+must”—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Up sprang Gusty, exclaiming—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“If I thought that, mother, my honor”—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Is <em>safe</em> in your mother’s keeping, Gusty, believe that.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But, mother!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Come, Gusty, nonsense—no high points of
+honor with the woman that brought you into the
+world, or with her husband either—Buncombe
+suffers many privations that you know nothing
+of, and could not sympathize with, if you did
+know—he wants certain books, scientific and
+mathematical instruments, &#38;c., that he can never
+purchase, because he spills his money all over
+the parish; lavishing his slender means upon the
+poor, instead of influencing the rich to relieve
+them from their ample store—for Buncombe can
+give, but he cannot beg, even for others—that
+requires a high moral heroism in a sensitive
+heart like his. I have had to pick his pockets
+before he goes out, every day, else they would
+come home empty. He never economizes;
+never thinks of expense—not he—and when Rosalia
+is seated by our fireside, he will never think
+whether she costs us a hundred cents or a hundred
+dollars a year—the blessed soul!—nonsense,
+Gusty,” said she, with tears in her eyes, “you
+will break my heart if you get upon your dignity
+with Buncombe.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Getting upon my impertinence, it would be,
+mother,” said Gusty, seriously, “only—well!—yes,
+I am sure, mother, I can leave it all to you—must
+do it, in fact—for until my marriage, I
+have no right to object, and after my marriage,
+there is no place where I would leave Rosalia
+but here with you; and if you will not receive
+any compensation, it cannot be helped for the
+present.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You must appreciate Mr. Buncombe,
+Gusty!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! I <em>do</em>, mother, I <em>do</em>! I think he is an
+admirable—Crichton, or Christian—which is it,
+mother?—I do, indeed—I really do—your appreciation
+and affection endears him, mother!
+But now, mother, indeed it is almost four
+o’clock, and there is no certainty about these
+evening boats—they pass any time between five
+and ten—come, mother, tell Kitty to make a
+nice little supper, and not to forget the rice
+cakes, with honey sauce, that Rose likes, and
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_134'>134</span>then, mother, get your shawl and muff, and <em>do</em>
+come along with me to the cliff, to watch for
+the boat—come, mother, oh, <em>do</em> come!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Emily arose with a smile and a sigh.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Mothers with marriageable daughters make
+heavy complaints—the egotists!—but a mother
+with a marriageable son—a great loblolly boy,
+in love, who is always melting over her!—has
+not <em>she</em> a trial? As for those rice cakes, Mr.
+Gusty, they are very well once in a long time,
+but we have had them prepared every week for
+your Rosalia, who has not appeared to partake
+of them; and we have had to eat them all up
+ourselves, to keep them from being wasted, and
+we are all getting the dyspepsia, and I am losing
+my complexion from indigestion, and whatever
+you may think, I assure you, Master Gusty, that
+I value the beauty of my complexion for the
+sake of my good man, quite as much, and perhaps
+more than your Rosalia values hers, for
+the sake of you—and as for this trip to the
+beach, Master Gusty, every afternoon, through
+the cold, and over the snow, it does not help to
+counteract the ill effects of the cakes quite as
+much as I could wish, because, Master Gusty, I
+have to stand upon the wet beach, in the current
+of wind too long, Master Gusty—and so, Master
+Gusty, you will please to be a trifle more
+reasonable in your love, if love and reason ever
+can coalesce in you—but, however, Master
+Gusty, I will once more take cakes and cold for
+your sake,” and going out into the kitchen, she
+gave the necessary orders, and returned enveloped
+in a large hood, shawl, and muff. Gusty
+buttoned up his great coat, and they set out.
+The walk from Grove Cottage to the promontory
+was rather long. The afternoon was clear,
+bright, and cold, and the snow, slightly crusted,
+crackled under their feet as they pursued their
+way towards the cliff. They reached its summit,
+and stood upon the extreme point of the
+peak. Emily took out her watch to note the
+time, gaily grumbling at its waste, while her son
+adjusted his pocket-telescope, and took sight up
+the river.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“It is five o’clock, Gusty, and nearly dark
+besides, or would be, if it were not for the full
+moon, helping the twilight.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“It is coming, mother—the boat is coming!”
+exclaimed Gusty, still keeping his telescope
+pointed up the river. “It is the Arrow, mother,
+I can see the name.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The boat bore down rapidly. They turned
+to descend the steep and slippery sides of the
+cliff, and stood upon the frozen beach as the
+boat flew swiftly on. His heart paused as it
+neared—stood still as it passed. Let <em>me</em> pause
+here. Reader, notice this party on the cold
+beach, and now cast a magician’s glance into
+the cabin of the boat that is passing. In a
+small state room opening from that cabin, upon
+the floor by the side of the berth, kneels Rosalia
+Aguilar, with her face pressed down upon the
+pillow, with the ends of the pillow held up
+against her head, to shut out every sight and
+sound of the shore and home she is passing,
+which is yet distinctly and fearfully present to
+her mind’s eye and ear. She sees the village,
+the dividing river, the heath, with its forest in
+the background; the promontory, the old Hall,
+with its broken garden wall and poplar trees;
+lastly, the beach, and the party on the beach.
+Emily and Gusty—she knows, she feels, that
+they are there waiting her—she knows, she feels,
+that they were there yesterday, and that they
+will be there to-morrow. She knows, she feels,
+how they will both wait and wonder—how one
+will sicken and suffer with “hope deferred”—and
+ah! reverting to another home upon the
+banks of a Northern river,—another desolated
+home, desolated by herself, she sees <em>another</em>
+bleeding heart and burning brain, as she presses
+the pillow closer about her ears to shut out
+sights and sounds that her spirit-eyes and ears
+must see and hear—how long? Rosalia was
+not one to enjoy a single hour’s impunity in
+singing—yet she went on.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Behold the insanity of passion that, through all
+the accumulating anguish of remorse, perseveres
+in sin!</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The boat has passed.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Again, mother!” exclaimed Gusty, with a
+look of deep disappointment.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, and again many times, perhaps, my
+dear boy! Something detains her; perhaps we
+shall hear by to-night’s mail,” and they turned
+to leave the cliff.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty saw his mother home, and, without
+stopping to take supper, hurried off to Churchill
+Point, to await the arrival of the evening’s mail.
+He returned in two hours—there was no letter.
+The next night, and the next, and every night
+for a week longer, Emily and her son watched
+for Rosalia in vain. The mail came in twice a
+week, and every mail-day Gusty was waiting a
+letter at the post-office, and Emily waiting him
+at home. At last, one night, Gusty hurried
+in with a letter. Throwing it in his mother’s
+lap, he exclaimed,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“It is for <em>you</em>; open it quick, mother, do;
+there is something odd about it; a letter addressed
+in Raymond Withers’s hand, and postmarked
+Norfolk. What can it mean? Do read
+it, mother!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Emily glanced her eyes over it, while Gusty
+stood pawing and champing in his impatience.
+It was merely a formal announcement from Raymond
+Withers of the change in Miss Aguilar’s
+plans; of her determination to go out under his
+protection and rejoin Captain Wilde and Sophie,
+&#38;c., &#38;c. Emily handed him the letter in silence,
+and watched him as he read it. Fearful was the
+picture of passion presented by Gusty! his bosom
+heaved in fierce convulsions—the blood rushed
+to his head, his face grew scarlet, the veins on
+his temples and forehead swelled like cords, his
+teeth ground together, his eyes glared and
+flashed. Crushing the letter in his hand, he
+raised it above his head, threw it hard upon the
+floor, set his foot upon the paper as though he
+would grind it to powder, and strode up and
+down the room shaking his clenched fist, gnashing
+his teeth, and exclaiming, as he foamed at
+the mouth,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Villain! wretch! dastard! God! oh, God!
+that months, that days, that even <em>minutes</em> should
+pass before my heel is on his neck! my sword’s
+point in his heart!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Amazed, alarmed at his terrible excitement,
+Emily followed him up and down the room.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Gusty! dear Gusty! in the name of Heaven
+sit down—be calm!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>But, foaming and shaking, Gusty did not heed,
+or even hear her.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_135'>135</span>“If I had him here! If I had him here, with
+my foot upon his chest, my hands around his
+throat—he would be but as a reed in my grasp—a
+fox’s cub in a lion’s claws! Oh! if I had him
+here beneath my feet! <em>Oh!</em> if I had him here!
+<em>Oh!</em> if I could get at him now! <em>Why</em> can I
+not clear the distance between us at a bound!—spring
+upon him! bear him down to the ground!—God!
+oh, God! I shall dash my desperate
+brains out before I can get at him!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Emily had sunk pale and trembling into her
+chair, quite overwhelmed by his frightful passion,
+while, like a man in a fit of hydrophobia, like a
+maniac in the height of his phrensy, like a wild
+beast maddened in his cage, he raved, and shook,
+and foamed!</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Passions, like tempests, by their own fury,
+soon exhaust themselves. Fits of passion, in
+some natures, spend their last fury in tears as
+the storm passes off in rain. He raged until the
+exasperating image of Raymond Withers was
+replaced by the subduing form of Rosalia, and
+anger was drowned in sorrow for the time. He
+dropped heavily upon the sofa, and burying his
+face in its large cushions, sobbed—yes, <em>sobbed</em>—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Rosalia! Oh, <em>Rose</em>, <em>Rose</em>!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Emily, much wondering at, and alarmed by,
+the great degree of emotion raised by a seemingly
+insufficient cause, arose, and tottering, came and
+sat beside him. He remained unconscious of
+her presence. She sat there half an hour, waiting
+for him to look up, before he seemed to observe
+her; at length he turned over, and revealed
+a face pale and ghastly, as by a recent fit of illness.
+He looked up, with an appeal for sympathy
+straining through his bloodshot eyes, piercing
+up to the gentle face of his mother.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“In the name of Heaven, now, Gusty, what
+<em>does</em> all this mean?” she inquired, anxiously.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Mean</em>, mother! Ah, Heaven! <em>yes</em>, what
+does it mean!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Surely, Gusty, it is extravagant to manifest
+all this frightful passion at this disappointment.
+I own that it was rather unkind in Rosalia to go
+off to Sophie when we were expecting her, and
+that it was thoughtless in Raymond to omit
+writing until the last hour, very thoughtless; but”—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Thought<em>less</em>! the calculating, forecasting
+demon! it was just the contrary—it was thought<em>ful</em>
+of him!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What do you mean, Gusty?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Could he reveal to her the fearful light that
+had broken upon <em>his</em> mind? the terrible truth
+that had overwhelmed him? Oh, no! at least
+not now; he remained silent, and she continued
+to misunderstand him. She went on to say—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Your disappointment blinds you—makes
+you unjust, Gusty; it was thoughtlessness, or
+much occupation, that prevented Raymond
+Withers from writing, to give you an opportunity
+of seeing Rosalia before their departure; and for
+the rest, if you can only get over the present disappointment,
+this arrangement will be better for
+your <em>pleasure</em>, whatever it may be for your
+purse; for look you, Gusty: suppose Rose had
+really come, as she promised, and you had married
+her, and, at the expiration of your leave of
+absence, left her here, as arranged; you would
+have spent only a fortnight with her, and then
+been separated from her for two or three years.
+Now, by this new plan, you are for the present
+disappointed, but then you will soon go out,
+meet her and be near her all the time. Nonsense,
+dear Gusty! You have nothing really to
+regret.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>And so, in her happy blindness, she continued
+to talk to the despairing boy before her; and so,
+uninterruptedly, he let her talk on, while he lay
+there with his hands clasped upon his corrugated
+brow. At last, aroused by the laughing and
+crowing of a wakening baby in the next room,
+she went and brought her little girl out and sat
+down with her by Gusty’s side, thinking the glee
+of the babe, of whom he was very fond, would
+enliven him. On the contrary he became very
+much agitated. Presently he said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Mother, dear, if it will not be too much inconvenience,
+put a shirt or two, and a pair of
+socks, &#38;c., into my valise; I’m off by the morning’s
+boat for the North.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why, Gusty!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Dear mother, <em>yes</em>!—I must see Hagar!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why must you?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I <em>want</em> to see her, mother—<em>must</em> see her!
+I am <em>anxious</em> about her!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Anxious about her?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, <em>very</em> anxious!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And why are you so?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Without replying, Gusty arose and walked
+the floor with his arms folded and his chin
+bowed upon his breast.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What makes you so anxious to see Hagar,
+Gusty?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He paused, and looked perplexed for a few
+minutes, then suddenly replied—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Is it not natural that I should wish to see
+Hagar after so long an absence?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But it is not so long an absence, and your
+resolution is so sudden.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, besides, mother, finding now that it is
+useless to try to see Rosalia—for that was a
+ship-letter dated at Hampton Roads, and brought
+in by the pilot, you know—I wish to dissipate
+my chagrin, mother; is not that natural?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, yes! Well, I suppose you do,” said
+Emily.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The next morning, early, Gusty May set out
+for the Rialto.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XXXIV.<br> <span class='c009'>CHANGES.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line in16'>“When sorrows come,</div>
+      <div class='line'>They come not single spies but in battalions.”</div>
+      <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>Shakspeare.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c004'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“An eagle with a broken wing,</div>
+      <div class='line'>A harp with many a broken string.”</div>
+      <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>Sybil’s Leaves.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>From Lieutenant Augustus May to Mrs.
+Emily Buncombe.</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-r c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“<span class='sc'>The Rialto</span>, February 21st, 182-.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c017'>“<span class='sc'>Dearest Mother</span>:—Come to Hagar. Yes, come.
+Whatever you may have in hand, put it down, pack up,
+and come to Hagar. You will do so when I have told
+you all I have to tell you—alas! the worst you will
+not know until you reach this place. I arrived at ——
+on the 15th of the current month, early in the morning,
+and proceeded at once to The Rialto, reached the house
+at about eleven o’clock, was ushered into the drawing-room,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_136'>136</span>and inquired after the health of the family. I
+was told by the servant who admitted me, that Mrs.
+Withers had been extremely ill for the last six weeks,
+but that she was now better, and able to leave her
+room. I sent up to know if she could receive me—the
+man returning told me that Mrs. Withers would be
+down in a few minutes. Well, mother! I waited perhaps
+half an hour, at the end of which time the door
+opened, and a figure—as Heaven hears me, mother, I
+did not recognise it for Hagar! the once elegant and
+brilliant Hagar! a figure shrouded in a black wrapper,
+with the hair all pushed back under a sharp cornered
+muslin cap, that marked the outline of a countenance
+never to be forgotten!—the pallid forehead was doubled
+in a dark fold between the eye-brows, and above eyes
+strained out into such startling and piercing brightness,
+that I shuddered and dropped my gaze before them!
+she came on slowly, trembling, tottering, and sank into
+a chair, in such utter feebleness; she attempted to
+speak, to greet me, but the words died on her white
+lips. To see Hagar thus! our beautiful, resplendent
+Hagar! our strong, proud, exultant Hagar! Mother, I
+have seen death in all its phases, the soldier struck
+down in battle, the criminal swung off from the yardarm,
+the old man give up the ghost in his bed, and the
+infant fall into its last sleep in its mother’s arms, yet I
+never realized <span class='fss'>DEATH</span>; never! until I saw this high
+soul brought low, this fiery soul quenched, this eagle
+of the sun lying wounded on the earth, weltering in
+blood and dust. My proud sister Hagar! my high-souled
+Hagar! would that I had suffered alone! would
+that I could have died to have saved her! You do not
+comprehend her grief, or my deep sympathy, mother—alas!
+you will understand it but too well by-and-bye.
+Oh! well, I went to her, sat beside her, took her hand—I
+felt that I was her brother—I pitied her, loved her,
+would have soothed her, caressed her as when she was
+a little girl; but with a haggard look and an adjuring
+gesture she repelled me, as she murmured, in a hollow,
+church-yard voice, ‘I have been ill—ill.’ ‘I know it,
+dearest Hagar; dearest sister, I know it all—everything—I
+am a fellow sufferer, but no matter for that; what
+is my grief to your great sorrow! Hagar, I am your
+friend—your brother for life and to death! I will do
+anything you wish me to do—I am at your command—I
+will even throw up my commission and come and live
+near you, if, by doing so, I can be of any use to you.
+Yes, Hagar, I will do that, even if I have to mend clocks
+for a living.’ She looked at me and faltered a reply;
+but, oh! the words fell from her ashen lips unnatural
+and unintelligible, like those from an automaton, and
+few as they were, they seemed to have exhausted the
+small remnant of her strength, for she sank back in her
+chair in a swoon. I flew to the bell and rung it violently,
+and Mrs. Collins came in—seeing the state of
+Hagar, she immediately summoned a female domestic,
+and bore her back to her chamber. I followed them
+up stairs. I could not, would not stay away. I followed
+them into her room—saw them lay her upon her
+bed—waited until they had recovered her—saw her
+open her eyes, and then, and not till then, I withdrew
+and left her to repose. She was worse the next morning—the
+agitation occasioned by our interview had
+caused a relapse—and, mother, that very next day, the
+day succeeding my arrival, while she lay at the point
+of death, <em>an execution</em> was brought into the house, and
+everything swept off! all that splendid furniture, together
+with the valuable library, and rare collections of
+pictures, statuary, and virtue accumulated by the late
+General Raymond—all went! I repurchased the furniture
+of her suite of private apartments; but she shall
+not know that; she will naturally think, and I shall
+permit her to think, that they were spared by creditors—and,
+mother, if you come on here, take care that you
+do not undeceive her. It seems that for the last two
+years, Mr. Raymond Withers—curse him! has been
+living far above his income, and that as soon as his
+creditors knew him to have left the country, they came
+down upon his property. Hagar does not yet know the
+new misfortune that has fallen upon her, as she was
+lying insensible when the sheriff’s officer took the inventory
+of her bed-chamber, and I took the precaution
+that none of its furniture should be disturbed. Mother,
+come quickly to Hagar. The servants are all leaving
+the house, because there is no money to pay them their
+wages. I have exceeded my furlough. I do not know
+what will be the consequence, and cannot help it. I
+am cited to appear before a court martial—cannot do it,
+of course. The devil himself would not leave Hagar in
+her present situation. Thank God! I have got a few
+thousand dollars in bank, and that will keep the wolf
+from Hagar’s door for some years to come, any how!
+Oh, mother! do come quickly. Hagar is still confined
+to her bed—she wants a lady with her—a friend with
+her. Mrs. Collins, the housekeeper, and Barnes, the
+nurse, leave at the first of March; that is close at hand,
+so do not delay.</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-r c015'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>Your affectionate son,</div>
+      <div class='line in8'>“<span class='sc'>Augustus W. May</span>.”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class='c018'>
+
+<p class='c008'>From Mrs. Buncombe to Lieutenant May.</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-r c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“<span class='sc'>Grove Cottage</span>, March 1st, 182-.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c017'>“You are mad, unlucky boy! I have just this moment
+got your letter—and I am exactly horrified to
+death at its contents. Gusty! is this the way in which
+you repay all my care of you? Return immediately to
+your post, as you value my blessing. Do you not know,
+wretched boy, that you run the risk of having your
+commission taken from you? Do you not know, oh!
+dolt of a child, that you will be scandalized to death, if
+you remain a day where you are? and all the servants
+leaving the house, too! Oh, Heavens, Gusty! am <em>I</em>
+who never risked the chance of a breath of calumny,
+am <em>I</em> now to suffer through the imprudence of my son?
+What would your blessed father say if he were here
+to know of this? If you have not already left the
+house, leave it immediately on the receipt of this letter.
+I <em>command</em> you, Gusty! return to your post, and write
+me that you have done so, as you value my blessing,
+Gusty! Nay, dear Gusty, I withdraw the command;
+I have no right to make it to a grown up man—and, I
+<em>entreat</em>, Gusty, that you will return immediately to your
+post, as you value my peace, Gusty.</p>
+
+<p class='c017'>“As to my coming to Hagar, it is not possible just now;
+Buncombe has the rheumatism, and baby is cutting her
+eye-teeth; besides which, Kitty has scalded her hand
+so badly as to be nearly useless—so that you see I am
+the sole dependence of the family.</p>
+
+<p class='c017'>“As for Hagar’s anguish, it is as inexplicable as your
+past fury was. I can well imagine her regret at parting
+with her husband, but as for the rest, it is all mystery,
+and you know it has been said by them of old time, that
+where there is mystery it is fair to presume guilt, or at
+least some grave error. This unhappy Hagar had ever
+possessed the unenviable gift of drawing down upon
+her head the ban of society—but she must not pull
+others down with her. It is all inexplicable to me—I
+do not understand it in the least; but I fear all is not
+right. Write to me immediately, Gusty, and tell me
+that you are off. I am so uneasy that I have no appetite
+for my dinner.</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-r c015'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“Your anxious and affectionate mother,</div>
+      <div class='line in20'>“<span class='sc'>Emily Buncombe</span>.”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class='c018'>
+
+<p class='c008'>Mr. May to Mrs. Buncombe.</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-r c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“<span class='sc'>The Rialto</span>, March 7th, 182-.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c017'>“<span class='sc'>Dear Mother</span>:—I received your letter to-day. I
+am here yet, you see. In all things that are right I will
+obey you always, if I get as big as Goliath and old as
+Methuselah. But! when I forsake Hagar in her utmost
+need, may God forsake me then and for ever
+Amen—so be it. Selah. Hagar is still too ill to leave
+her room; still ignorant of the execution. Collins,
+Barnes, and the rest have left the house—<em>all</em> have left
+except a maid-of-all-work, whose wages <em>I</em> have engaged
+to pay. A second execution at the suit of another
+creditor has been levied, and a second time I have had
+to redeem from confiscation, the furniture of her rooms.
+As soon as Hagar is able to travel, I must get her away
+from this; I cannot stay here for ever, paying that infernal
+fellow’s debts, as I am now obliged to do, to keep
+poor Hagar from being shocked to death.</p>
+
+<p class='c017'>“Well, mother! it is as you feared—I am cashiered!
+dismissed the service! Well, what of it? The service
+has lost more than I have, by the arrangement! The
+service has lost a gallant officer! a noble fellow! a
+whole hearted man! <em>I</em> say it! Moreover, they cannot
+cashier my bones and muscles, my heart and brain,
+my faith, hope, and energy! Besides, the blow Rosalia
+dealt me, has stunned, numbed me into a sort of insensibility
+to all wounds inflicted upon myself. I am
+vulnerable now only through Hagar.</p>
+
+<p class='c017'>“Well, I am cashiered! Grieve for the service,
+mother! not for me.</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-r c015'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>Your affectionate son,</div>
+      <div class='line in8'>“<span class='sc'>Augustus W. May</span>.”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class='c018'>
+
+<p class='c008'>Mr. May to Mrs. Buncombe.</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-r c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“<span class='sc'>The Rialto</span>, March 14th.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c017'>“<span class='sc'>Dear Mother</span>:—I wrote to you a week ago, but I
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_137'>137</span>cannot await your answer, as I am in great haste. In
+naming this homestead ‘The Rialto,’ I presume they
+merely had an allusion to its locality above the river—but
+it is appropriate in its sadder association, too. This
+is, indeed, a ‘bridge of sighs.’ The house was sold to-day
+for taxes. Poor Hagar is up at last—but oh! such
+a wreck; her beautiful hair that I thought concealed
+under her cap, has been all cut off. She bears her new
+trials better than I expected. Like me, her one great
+sorrow has rendered her insensible to minor griefs.
+She wishes to return to her own home, Heath Hall. It
+is upon this matter that I write to you. Do, mother,
+have it made comfortable for her reception. She has
+sold all her own jewels to defray the expenses of her
+journey. There is a balance to the credit of Raymond
+Withers—perdition catch his soul!—at the bank, but
+Hagar will not draw it. Prepare to receive the stricken
+one kindly, mother, I entreat you, as you value my
+peace, mother!</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-r c015'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>Your affectionate son,</div>
+      <div class='line in8'>“<span class='sc'>A. W. May</span>.”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XXXV.<br> <span class='c009'>THE RETURN.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line in14'>“Oh! if indeed to <em>part</em></div>
+      <div class='line'>With the soul’s loved ones be a bitter thing,</div>
+      <div class='line'>When we go forth in buoyancy of heart,</div>
+      <div class='line'>And bearing all the glories of our spring,</div>
+      <div class='line in14'>Is it less so to <em>meet</em></div>
+      <div class='line'>When these are withered? Who shall call it sweet?”</div>
+      <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>Hemans.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>The 20th of March, 182-, was a day to be
+remembered for the terrible storm of wind, snow,
+and hail that visited the earth, and raged through
+these latitudes all that tremendous day and
+night!</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>It was in the height of this furious tempest,
+that a packet might <em>not</em> have been seen as it
+toiled against wind and tide, on its way down
+Chesapeake Bay,—might <em>not</em> have been seen, for
+it was as difficult to <em>see</em> through the dense fall
+of snow, as it was to <em>breathe</em> against the driving,
+piercing sleet that struck into every pore of the
+skin and thorax like millions of needle points.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Could you have discerned that packet boat
+through the shrouds of falling snow, you would
+have looked upon a bark apparently carved in
+ice. The deck was blocked up with drifting
+snow, freezing as it fell, and still increasing
+against all the efforts of the crew. The masts
+struck up like shafts of ice, between which the
+crossing ropes formed a crystal lattice-work.
+The sails were stiff, stark, and glittering with
+sleet. And all—ropes, masts, and sails, grew
+thicker every instant,—losing their distinctness
+of form as the snow fell fast, congealing on
+them, until the bark seemed the nucleus of an
+avalanche, or the skeleton upon which the body
+of an iceberg was being formed.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The cabin of that little packet was small,
+deep, and dark, and lighted even in the day by
+a tiny lamp nailed against the wall. In this
+low cabin, by the side of the narrow coffin-like
+berth, sat a pale and ghastly little woman,
+clothed in a black dress and simple cap, whom
+you would never recognise to be Hagar. Upon
+the berth lay two sleeping infants, of nearly
+twelve months old. She leans heavily with both
+elbows upon the side of the berth, and supports
+her drooping head upon her hands. She has sat
+thus for hours, while the tempest has raged above
+and around her. She will probably sit there for
+hours longer unless the children wake, or some
+one enters to rouse her from her dreamy trance.
+She does not hear the howling wind, though it
+beats among the ice-bound and rattling sails and
+ropes, a thundering accompaniment to its fierce
+song. She does not see the snow, though it has
+nearly blocked up the narrow gangway leading
+down into her cabin. She does not feel the
+penetrating and piercing cold, though her hands
+are purple, stiff, and numb. Towards the evening,
+Gusty May entered the cabin.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“How are you now, Hagar, and how are the
+children?” inquired he, coming up to her side.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She did not seem to see or hear him. He
+repeated his question earnestly. She raised her
+pallid brow and straining glance, and answered,
+mechanically,—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well—we are well.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Do the children fatigue you, Hagar? You
+look so weary; why do you not call me to help
+to take care of them when they tire you?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“They never tire me,” replied Hagar.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Have they brought you any dinner, Hagar?
+I really do not believe they have. No!—and
+your fire has been suffered to go out, while I have
+been on deck all day helping to work the vessel
+or clear the deck. What a thing it is to see a
+poor, dear sick girl, with two children, on the
+water in such a scuttled tub as this bark, without
+even a female attendant!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>So lamenting, Gusty bustled about, replenished
+the fire, and going to a locker, brought out a glass
+of cordial and a cracker, which he compelled
+her to swallow, saying,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“It is a ‘round, unvarnished’ truth that, if I
+were not here to kindle your fire and to hold a
+morsel to your lips, you would starve to death,
+Hagar! I wonder how long this dreadful apathy
+is going to last!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Then setting away the glass and plate, he
+went to shovelling away the snow from the
+gangway.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Passengers for Heath Hall!” sang out a voice
+from above.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty dropped the shovel and rushed up on
+deck. Hagar, her children, and himself, were
+certainly the only passengers for Heath Hall.
+After an absence of five minutes he returned.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hagar! rouse yourself, now, dear Hagar,
+and answer me; we are nearly opposite to
+<em>Heath Hall</em>!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The sound of that name was sufficient to
+arouse her.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Speak on, Gusty, I am neither dead, deaf,
+asleep, nor crazy, Gusty, though I must often seem
+to you to be one or the other. Well, what were
+you saying about Heath Hall?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“We are nearly opposite to the promontory,
+Hagar, and we must now go ashore, or keep on
+down the bay to the Capes.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, go on shore by all means! What suggested
+the other alternative?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What? Poor thing, you know nothing! It
+is a frightful night to go on shore, Hagar. We
+stand out a mile from the land, and cannot even
+see the shore through thick and driving hail and
+sleet. Then, the beach must be covered knee-deep
+with snow, and the ascent to the promontory
+nearly impracticable from ice—that is to
+say, for <em>you</em>, Hagar.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“For <em>me</em>—you forget, Gusty, overwhelmed,
+as you see me, by mental troubles, you know
+that I am nearly invincible before physical ills
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_138'>138</span>and obstacles. I can see my way through the
+darkest night that ever shrouded earth—keep my
+footing firm in the ascent of the most slippery
+and dangerous precipice in the world. Thank
+God! my physical powers are not destroyed
+yet.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You are feeling better—your spirits are
+rising, Hagar.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, they are, they are, to be under the
+shadow of my old Hall again! I think that I
+shall no sooner step upon my native heath, than
+I shall feel life and spirits strike up through my
+feet, filling my whole frame with strength and
+power.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Passengers for Heath Hall, get ready,” yelled
+a voice from the deck.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Come, Hagar, get the children and yourself
+ready quickly, while I see the trunks lowered to
+the skiff.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But, oh! these children! these children!
+after all, perhaps we had better stay here, than
+expose <em>them</em> to the storm.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“They shall not suffer from exposure to the
+storm; <em>I</em> will carry the babies, and take care of
+that—so if you think that you can get along and
+keep your footing ascending the cliff, we had
+better go ashore notwithstanding all I have said;
+for it threatens to be a horrible night, and God
+Almighty only knows what may be the fate of
+the packet before day.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar said no more, and Gusty left the cabin.
+Hagar wrapped her children up in their little
+warm light blankets and long cloaks, and then
+put on her own close travelling dress, and had
+scarcely completed her preparations when Gusty
+came down again, and assisted her with the children
+by taking charge of one while she insisted
+on keeping the other on deck. And what a
+deck it was! She toiled up the gangway knee-deep
+in snow, while the sharp and driving sleet
+cut into her face, nearly blinding and smothering
+her; it was almost impossible to see a foot in
+advance; in an instant her whole dress was
+covered white and stiff with snow, that froze as
+it fell. It was only her warm breath that kept
+mouth and nostrils free for breathing, and saved
+her from a freezing suffocation. Gusty kept
+hold of one hand; drawing her through the snow-drifts
+beneath, and the falling avalanche of sleet
+around, he guided her to the edge of the vessel,
+lowered the two children half smothered in their
+wrappings, to the oarsmen in the skiff, handed
+Hagar down, and descended after her; while
+the sleet whirling thick around them threatened
+to convert the little boat with its freight into a
+huge snowball. The two oarsmen pulled swiftly
+through the white tempest for the shore—providentially
+wind and tide were in their favor; they
+soon reached the beach—but, oh! what a howling
+wilderness of a shore it was upon this tremendous
+night! On their left the promontory, like
+some huge ice-peak of the arctic regions, loomed
+horribly through storm and darkness; while
+towards the right the white shore stretched away
+in a dim horizontal line—a half-guessed vague
+terror like the shores of the frozen ocean seen
+through the night. Using their oars as poles
+they pushed the boat through the rushing water
+and crusted ice, and landed it upon the beach
+immediately under the promontory. Pausing a
+moment to gather breath after their great exertions,
+the two men took each of them a child,
+and Gusty drew Hagar’s frost-crusted arm within
+his own, and they stepped from the boat, and
+struggled on through the deep snow and against
+the driving storm to the little fishing-house
+against the side of the promontory. The wind
+and sleet were in their face, blowing from behind
+the other side of the promontory. As they toiled
+on towards it they found the snow less and less
+deep, until coming under its cover they trod upon
+bare though frozen ground, and reaching the
+fishing-house found it perfectly dry, as the
+ground was for many yards around it; a better
+protected place than was the cabin of the ship
+they had left. Taking away the prop that fastened
+the door, they entered. The men stood
+holding the children. Hagar dropped upon an
+upturned fishing-tub; while Gusty, taking a small
+wax candle and tinder-box from the pocket of
+his great coat, struck a light, and holding it
+about surveyed the premises, as the men, giving
+the children to Hagar, returned to the boat to
+fetch the trunks. It was a small but tight and
+well-finished, weather-proof little place, built
+against the side of the promontory of rocks
+cut from its bosom; the walls were plastered,
+the floor paved, and an ample fire-place on the
+right of the entrance, faced a large window on
+the left. It had been built as a place of deposit
+for fishing tackle, and as a kitchen for dressing
+the freshly caught fish, crabs, and oysters, when
+the Churchills varied their hospitality by an improvised
+fish feast upon the beach.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty surveyed the capabilities of the place,
+poked the candle and his nose into holes and
+corners, among broken fishing-rods, old flag-baskets,
+staves of fallen down tubs, footless pots,
+and topless kettles, &#38;c., and then sticking the
+candle against the side of the chimney, he collected
+some of the old flag-baskets, and breaking
+them up, piled them in the fire-place and set
+fire to them—they blazed and roared delightfully
+up the chimney, diffusing agreeable light and
+warmth. Then drawing a rude stool to the
+chimney-corner, and going up to Hagar, he took
+the two children from her arms, and told her to
+pull off her snow-covered riding habit and sit
+there. She did so, and held out her arms to
+receive the children back. He set them in her
+lap, and going to the pile of staves, brought and
+threw them on the burning embers of the flag-baskets,
+making a great fire, whose light glowed
+all over the small room, heating it pleasantly.
+Then he hung up her riding habit to dry, and
+digging out an old tea-kettle from the pile of
+rubbish, he clapped his hat upon his head and
+went out to fill it at a spring that bubbled from
+the rock by the side of the house; returning he
+set it on the fire, just as the voices of the men
+were heard approaching the cabin. They came
+in, each with a large trunk upon his shoulder,
+and bearing another by the handles between
+them. They came in and setting down their
+burdens prepared to depart and return to the
+packet—but Gusty, with a gesture, detained them,
+as he knelt at the side of one of the trunks, and
+opening it, took out a bottle of brandy, some
+spices, and a mug, and gave “something to protect
+them against suffering through the inclemency
+of the weather.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>They then departed, leaving Gusty, Hagar,
+and the children, sole occupants of the cabin.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“It is vain to think of trying to reach the Hall
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_139'>139</span>to-night, Hagar,” said Gusty, as he pulled off
+his greatcoat and hung it near the fire to thaw and
+dry. “And we must just stay here till morning,”
+he continued, and turning a tub bottom upwards
+he drew it up to the fire and seated himself,
+watching and tending the kettle as it progressed
+towards boiling. “If the men could possibly
+have stopped and lent us their assistance in carrying
+the children, I might have helped you, and—but,
+no! even then it would have been impossible
+on this frightful night! We should have
+got lost, and floundered about in snow-drifts
+until morning, if we had not perished before
+then; the snow is so much deeper than I had
+any idea of before leaving the packet,” and
+Gusty, taking a stick, and passing it through the
+handle, lifted the boiling kettle from the fire, and
+set it on the hearth, saying, “I am going to
+make you some spice tea, Hagar, to restore your
+circulation and send out a perspiration; you are
+chilled to death, your hands are livid,” and putting
+some cloves into the mug, he poured some
+of the boiling water upon it and set it down to
+steep.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>All this time, Hagar had heard his remarks
+without replying to them—seen his efforts for her
+comfort without acknowledging them; because,
+after her sudden rise of spirits, she had again
+sunk into apathy. Soon he took a little rude
+table—once used in cooking operations—and
+turning it bottom upwards, and gathering all their
+outside coverings that were now dried, he made
+a little warm bed for the babies, and begged Hagar
+to lay them in it. She did so, covered them
+up snugly, and resumed her seat.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I wish, Hagar,” said he, as he handed her the
+mug of spice tea, “I <em>do</em> wish that there was a
+place where you could lie down and take some
+sleep.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She smiled sadly and shook her head faintly.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I know <em>now</em> what to do,” he said, receiving
+the empty mug from her hand and setting it on
+the hearth; “yes, I know what to do now,” and
+taking her riding habit, he hung it from the corner
+of the mantel-piece down against the wall
+behind her, and said, “Now, adjust your stool
+comfortably, Hagar, and lean upon that; you
+will rest better, and perhaps you will sleep. I
+shall sit here in front of the hearth, and watch to
+keep the fire going.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>And so the party remained through all that
+stormy night. <em>But!</em> Hagar had better have
+braved the fearful ascent of the precipice through
+that terrible storm—had better have perished in the
+snow—on that horrible night, than have lived to
+defy the more fatal tempest of calumny raised by
+her lodging in the fishing-house, and that soon
+roared and raved around her, striking thunderbolts
+upon her devoted head.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XXXVI.<br> <span class='c009'>HAGAR AT HEATH HALL.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line in6'>“<a id='t139'></a><span lang="it">Nessun maggior dolore,</span></div>
+      <div class='line'><span lang="it">Che ricordarsi del tempo felice</span></div>
+      <div class='line'><span lang="it">Nella miseria.</span>”</div>
+      <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>Dante.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>All night the children slept on their rude
+pallet, lulled by the howling of the storm, as it
+came dulled through the thick walls of the fishing-house.
+All night Hagar slumbered a fitful
+and uninterrupted slumber, more like a succession
+of fainting fits than a natural sleep, for overpowered
+by fatigue, she would fall into a state
+of deep insensibility, from which she would often
+start in terror, aroused by a sudden consciousness
+or dream of wrong, danger, or censure, of a terrible
+and impending destiny. All night Gusty
+sat upon the inverted tub drawn up between the
+fire-dogs, guarding his charges and keeping up
+the fire. Gusty, in whom the animal so largely
+predominated, found it very hard to keep awake—yet
+Gusty, who had never lost a meal’s victuals
+or a night’s sleep for any grief or disappointment
+he had ever suffered—Gusty, now that the health
+and comfort of others made it necessary for him
+to do so—propped his eyes open with heroic perseverance.
+Every one knows how difficult it is
+to keep from going to sleep, alone, in a quiet
+room over a good fire; there is something soporific
+in its genial heat, even in the day time.
+Gusty could have sworn he had not closed his
+eyes the whole night, yet by some inexplicable
+magic he had, or dreamed he had taken up a stick
+to mend the fire—at deep, dark, stormy midnight—and
+when he put it down, or when it fell
+from his hand—the instant after—it was broad,
+bright, glorious daylight! with the sun beaming
+a blinding light through the window, whose form
+was traced in amber radiance upon the opposite
+wall, near which Hagar stood in her travelling
+dress, ready for a walk, with the two babies
+standing clinging to her skirts, and gazing with
+baby wonder upon the strange scene in which
+they found themselves.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Lord!—yes!—well!—I declare!—so it is!”
+exclaimed Gusty, starting up.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I am glad you slept well, Gusty, dear, kind
+friend,” said Hagar.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I never <span class='fss'>SLEPT</span>!” averred Gusty, with his eyes
+still wide open with astonishment, thinking himself
+bewitched.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar smiled sadly to herself, and did not contradict
+him.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty arose, and shook himself, like a great
+honest dog roused from slumber, and walking to
+the door opened it and looked out.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! Hagar, come!” said he, “look out—what
+a glorious morning!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She went up to his side. It was indeed a gorgeous
+scene! The heath and hills were covered
+with crusted and brilliant snow, glittering with
+diamond dust. The forest trees carved in ice,
+with icicles for foliage. From every bough and
+bud dropped millions of pendent jewels. Earth
+wore a gorgeous bridal dress, bedecked with
+diamonds, and the morning sun kindled up into
+dazzling splendor the icy glories of the scene,
+until the snow flashed back to heaven, in lines
+of blinding light, a glory brilliant as the sun
+himself. Gusty shaded his eyes from the blinding
+radiance. Hagar gazed unwinking with her
+eagle eyes upon the landscape, until the fire
+kindled in her cheek and burned on her lips.
+When they had breathed the pure air, and enjoyed
+the prospect a few minutes, Gusty said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You must remain here an hour, Hagar, until
+I go to the Hall and fetch a horse—it is almost
+impossible for you to get over these slippery and
+mountainous snow-drifts yet.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_140'>140</span>“But it will be quite impossible to get over it
+with a horse.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, just now it will, but in an hour or two
+the crust will be melted. Oh! this snow, deep
+as it is, will not last long; it comes too late in
+the season; the last offering of old winter, who
+turned back to make it. Yes, there is a great
+change since last night, I should think the
+thermometer had risen thirty degrees. I declare
+the sun begins to feel warm on my shoulders.
+Well, Hagar, stay here till I come. Oh! there
+are some crackers in my trunk, if you want
+them for the children, here are the keys,” and
+throwing them to her, he buttoned up his great
+coat, drew on his gloves, clapped his hat upon
+his head, and set out. He might have been gone
+an hour, but she heard no trampling of horse
+feet upon the snow, and so was unconscious of
+their approach until Gusty opened the door, and
+stood smilingly with his broad good-humored
+face within it. Behind him—standing on tiptoe,
+to look over his shoulder, was Tarquinius,
+grinning with delight from ear to ear, and breaking
+past them, yelping defiance like fire and
+sword, sprang two pointers straight upon Hagar,
+whom they overwhelmed with welcome caresses!
+She started with brightening eyes, and returned
+their honest fondling. Then how they bounded,
+leaped, and fell into convulsions of joy! or lay
+their muzzles out upon her lap, every hair
+vibrating with a still delight.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Come, Mrs. Withers, are you quite ready?”
+said Gusty, drawing off his gloves and putting
+them into his pocket.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, yes, quite ready.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“How do you do, Tarquinius?” said she,
+kindly holding out her hand to the man that had
+been standing smiling and bowing his reverential
+welcome (making his <em>obedience</em>, he called it),
+through all this scene. “How is old Cumbo—how
+is your grandmother, Tarquin?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Putty much de same, I tank you, ma’am—I
+does not see any changes.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yet she is very aged.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, ma’am, but her ages does not get any
+wusser, but commiserably better.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Can she do anything for herself?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, yes, ma’am! she deforms de cookinary
+boderations as well as ever she did,” and making
+two or three deep bows, Tarquinius Superbus
+retired from the conference.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>There was an unusual kindliness in Hagar’s
+manner while inquiring after the welfare of her
+old nurse; one of the blessed influences of sorrow
+was beginning to manifest itself—her heart
+was softening, becoming capable of being impressed
+by the afflictions of others.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hagar, come!” said Gusty, lifting up a child
+in each arm, and preceding her from the door.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar followed, and no sooner had she
+emerged into the dazzling sunlight upon the
+crusted snow, than with a neigh of joy her little
+jet black pony Starlight, bounded to meet her.
+She fell upon his neck, caressing him, as if he
+had been her brother, too surprised and glad to
+ask an explanation of his arrival. She patted,
+talked to him, and laying her hand upon his
+mane, sprang into the saddle with something of
+her former agility and gladness. She had
+thought the coming of the dogs accidental, she
+thought that Gusty had met them on an early
+hunt, and that they had naturally recognised an
+old friend and followed him to the house; but
+now that she felt herself again upon Starlight’s
+back, with the dogs at her feet, she wondered
+how it came so.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Sit Agatha here before me, Gusty, I can
+hold her with one hand, and guide Starlight with
+the other. I mean to accustom the children
+early to riding.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And which <em>is</em> Agatha, and which is Agnes?—hang
+me if I can tell, though I have a preference!
+for this little one on my left arm loves
+me the most, presses close to me, looks up in my
+face, and seeks my eyes; and if I turn away my
+head, she puts up her little dimpled hand upon
+my chin, and turns my face around again, till
+she can see my eyes. God love her! God bless
+her! the loving darling! while this other child
+sits perched upon my arm, as if it were a high
+chair, with closed lips and level gaze, with all
+the composed dignity of an infant princess.
+Now, which is Agatha, and which is Agnes?
+If my loving darling is Agatha, I won’t give
+her up.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, your favorite is Agnes—the other is
+Agatha; hand her to me; and, Gusty, I wish
+you would not manifest the slightest preference
+for one child above the other—it is a fatal
+cruelty. Agatha is still, because she has less
+vitality than her sister; she is more delicate,
+dear child. I discovered it the first moment I
+had an opportunity of comparing them.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty placed the sedate infant in her mother’s
+care, and seemed very well pleased to be relieved
+from the burden, and at liberty to devote his
+whole care to the “loving darling” in his arms.
+And so the party set out over the brilliant snow,
+under the glorious sunshine. They reached the
+old Hall in twenty minutes’ ride. Agatha had
+fallen asleep on her mother’s bosom. They entered
+through the broken gate, and Hagar rode
+quite up to the piazza, and handing the sleeping
+babe to Tarquinius, she sprang from her saddle,
+took back the child, and entering the doorway,
+stood one moment in silent prayer, and passed
+on into the parlor, where stood old Cumbo leaning
+on her stick, with a red handkerchief on her
+head, tied under her chin, and forming a brilliant
+red frame around a face, black, wrinkled, and
+shining as a dried prune. Awed by the memory
+of Hagar’s pride and hardness, the old woman
+did not advance to welcome her, but when Hagar
+approached and spoke to her gently and
+kindly, she fell to crying and calling her dear
+“piccaninni.” Hagar looked around upon the
+scene; it appeared to her strange that everything
+had remained unchanged during the long century
+that her two years’ absence seemed to be. It
+was the same old parlor papered with the
+martyrs—with the shadows of the same poplar
+trees intercepting the sun at the windows that
+looked out upon the piazza. A good hickory
+fire was burning on the ample hearth, and a
+good breakfast smoking on the table. Hagar
+set her child down upon the carpet, and began
+to take off her travelling dress, just as Gusty
+entered, followed by Tarquinius, bearing a dish
+of fine white perch, fried, which he had just
+brought from the kitchen, and now set upon the
+table. They sat down to breakfast.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“These are very nice, Tarquin—did you
+catch them?” asked Gusty, placing a perch upon
+the plate before him.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_141'>141</span>“Yes, sir! I did, sir; I most in general confuses
+my ledger hours by angulating in the bay,
+whenever the perdition of the hemisphere commits.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Ah, that’s right; has my mother—has Mrs.
+Buncombe been over at the Hall to give any
+directions?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, sor, but de reverend gen’lem’n, sir, he
+come ober, and dejected us to have ebery ting
+impaired, and all the molestic confairs deranged
+for Mrs. Widders, an’ so we have conveyed his
+ardors to de best of our debility.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Thank you—you are a valuable agent!—Hagar!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I shall have to take leave of you immediately
+after breakfast; I must see my mother—she
+is uneasy, I know—perhaps sick. Say, are
+they all well over to the Grove, Tarquin?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, sir, de reveren gen’lem’n, he has got
+over his room-atism, and goes all over the
+house; but he is inflicted with a dog-matism in
+his ear, owing to Mr. Green’s big dog, Silver,
+jumpin’ up and bitin’ him.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Speaking of dogs, will you tell me, Gusty,
+how Starlight, and Remus, and Romulus came
+here?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Came here? Why, they have been here all
+the time; did not you know it?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, indeed; tell me about it.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“In the first place, the dogs would not stay
+anywhere else. Gardiner Green tied them up,
+but they gnawed their rope in two and fled to
+the Hall; and then he caught them and chained
+them, but they kept such a dismal howling—”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Poor dogs!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“That Mrs. Green, who is very superstitious,
+insisted on their being set at liberty, and they
+immediately returned to the Hall!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Dear, true dogs! Well, but Starlight?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, Starlight! <em>he</em> was worse, it was a regular
+conspiracy. Star behaved like a comet—like
+a devil let loose. Gardiner Green mounted him
+on Sunday to ride to church, but no sooner was
+he prisoned on the saddle, than Star shot forward
+like a meteor, while Green fell upon his neck and
+grasped his mane; Star fled across the meadow,
+making the turf fly beneath his digging feet, fled
+towards the river, plunged in, swam it, climbed
+the opposite side, and took the way towards the
+forest. Soon the pointers came baying behind
+him. On fled Star, with Green clinging in
+deadly terror to his neck, bent on a regular
+steeple chase, bounding over the hills, tearing
+through the forest, springing over gates, leaping
+across chasms, till at last reaching and clearing
+Devil’s Gorge at a bound, he sent Gardiner
+Green spinning from his back like a shot from a
+pop-gun! and keeping on his course, arrived in
+a somewhat excited state of mind at his own stall
+at Heath Hall, where the pointers soon overtook
+him. Gardiner Green was picked up by those
+who went to look for him, battered, bruised, and
+terrified nearly to death, but not lamed, dead, or
+otherwise injured. The next morning they sent
+over and had Starlight led back; and Starlight
+stepped statelily forth with the indignant air and
+threatening eye of a captive king led in triumph,
+who expects yet to rise and crush his enemies.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“My noble Starlight!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! he was a hero—he was not born to be
+a slave, or to serve any master except for
+love.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Like his mistress,” thought Hagar, and her
+brow grew dark with recollection.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, they carried him home and geared him
+up into Mistress Green’s gig—but he ran away
+with that, threw Mrs. Green out, spoiling her
+beauty but not seriously injuring her—kicked the
+gig to flinders, and brought the remnant of his
+gearing as a trophy home to the stables of Heath
+Hall that very evening. Then they put him in a
+cart, which he served in the same manner. Then
+they put him in a plough with another horse.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Poor, dear Starlight—to degrade my elegant
+Starlight so!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Exactly! but his highness, Prince Starlight,
+the Black Prince, would not stand it—he kicked,
+and reared, and plunged, and tried to excite his
+comrade to run away. And when his small-souled
+comrade would not, he bit him severely
+on the neck, as a punishment for helping to keep
+him prisoner. And then Gardiner Green offered
+‘the black fiend’ to any one for half the price
+he gave for him. It was just at this juncture of
+affairs that I had run down here to see mother
+again before going the voyage I expected to sail
+on, and hearing of this, I gladly purchased the
+horse at half-price, and returned him to the
+stables at Heath Hall, for the use of Hagar if
+ever she should return—for, Hagar, it is demonstrated
+that he will not serve man, woman, or
+child, but you.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I know that,” said Hagar, “and Gusty, I
+thank you, very sincerely—but I must repay
+you.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Be hanged if you shall! I will give him to
+you, but as for <em>selling him to you</em>! I’d cut his
+throat first! I was very willing to pay a good
+price for him, only I was enraged with that old
+brute, Gardiner Green, for having the atrocious
+assurance to buy your horse and dogs without
+your consent; for, of course, Hagar, I knew perfectly
+well that you would never have agreed to
+the sale, and so I would not be generous! I was
+too glad to punish his fault through his tenderest
+point, his pocket.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But,” said Hagar, choking with the unavailing
+effort to speak <em>a name</em> that had not passed
+her lips since its owner was lost to her sight, “<em>he</em>
+sold them, and of course my consent was understood
+or unnecessary.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>This was the first occasion upon which even
+the most distant allusion was made between
+Hagar and Gusty to the party that was nevertheless
+ever present to the minds of both. Gusty
+soon after arose from the table, and in taking
+leave of Hagar, promised that if it were possible
+for his mother to venture through the deep snow,
+he would bring her over in the afternoon.</p>
+
+<hr class='c013'>
+
+<p class='c008'>The family of Grove Cottage had just arisen
+from breakfast. The parson had just buttoned
+up his greatcoat, set his hat upon his head, and
+was drawing on his wool-lined gloves for a walk
+to the village, when the door opened, and Gusty
+entered.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! how do you do?” exclaimed Mr. Buncombe,
+slightly starting back with surprise, and
+then cordially shaking his hand. Gusty, returning
+his salute, passed on to where his mother sat
+at the head of the table. Emily arose with tears
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_142'>142</span>in her eyes. Gusty caught and folded her warmly
+to his bosom.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Mr. Buncombe returned, and laying his hand
+upon his step-son’s shoulder, said—“Gusty, my
+boy, I am called to the sick bed of one of my
+parishioners, and must leave you. I am sorry,
+but I shall meet you here at dinner?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, sir. Oh! never mind me, my dear sir.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The parson departed, and Gusty releasing his
+mother, snatched up his infant sister, Rose, and
+began to cover her with caresses and praises by
+way of diverting the storm of maternal grief and
+resentment, that he felt too ready to break over
+his head. Emily was weeping bitterly, until, seeing
+<em>his</em> grief and embarrassment, she arose and
+fell upon his shoulder, exclaiming,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, Gusty! Gusty! you have destroyed the
+labor and the hopes of many years and cares.
+You have nearly broken my heart—but you are
+welcome, nevertheless! Welcome, welcome, my
+boy!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Mother! <em>don’t</em>, now <em>don’t</em>—don’t make me
+<em>feel</em> like a brute, when I <em>know</em> I have behaved
+like a man!” said Gusty, setting down the child,
+and returning his mother’s embrace. “I have
+not merited this misfortune, mother; and I know
+that therefore, sooner or later, it will turn out
+well!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Ah! but, Gusty, it is <em>such</em> a blow! and you
+did nothing to avert, and will do nothing to
+remedy it! <em>Why</em> did you not, why <em>do</em> you not,
+even now, hasten to Washington, and petition to
+be reinstated?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I would see the whole United States Navy
+swamped first, mother! No, much as I honor
+my flag, I honor myself more! and God most!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Ah, Gusty! ‘God helps those who help
+themselves,’ is a very true proverb.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“May be so—but I’ll improve upon that, ‘God
+helps those who help their neighbors!’ I have
+Scripture for <em>that</em>, mother; ‘Cast thy bread upon
+the waters, and after many days it shall return,
+and whoso giveth, <em>lendeth</em> to the Lord.’ Come,
+mother, I lost my commission by doing a higher
+duty than any I owed my flag, and so I am not
+uneasy; but, mother, you have not once inquired
+after Hagar, who landed last night in the midst
+of the storm, and who is now at the Hall.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well! how should I be able to think of
+Hagar, when I have so many anxieties on your
+account, unfortunate boy? but how is Hagar,
+then?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Recovering slowly, but <em>very</em> slowly; will
+you not go over to see her, then, this afternoon?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Emily was silent and thoughtful, and sooth to
+say, rather displeased at the proposition.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Will you not, mother? Come, mother; when
+you see Hagar, so wretched, so ill, so changed,
+your unjust displeasure with her will be dissipated;
+you should not indeed feel angry with
+her because she was the involuntary, the unconscious
+cause of my misfortune, which she does
+not even know of yet—thinking I am on furlough—and
+do not tell her, mother.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, but I see no <em>reason</em> for all this wretchedness.
+I knew that Hagar madly loved her
+husband, but I do not see why his leaving her
+for two years should cause her to lose the power
+of directing her own life, and so cause you to
+lose all the hopes and prospects of yours.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty mused. Could he, he thought, enlighten
+his mother as to the <em>real</em> state of affairs? After
+some minutes’ reflection, he determined to keep
+the secret of the elopement, veiled as it was by
+the foreign mission; both because, though his
+suspicions came as near truth as suspicions <em>could</em>
+come, yet they were not fully proved—<em>he</em> might
+feel very sure himself, yet he might not he able
+to assure another mind—and because he did not
+wish to inflict upon his mother another sorrow,
+in addition to the one she was now almost sinking
+under. He felt sure that she would never
+receive a hint from Hagar, whom self-esteem, as
+well as her continued and inevitable love for her
+husband, would keep silent upon the subject of
+his perfidy, and her own wrongs and sufferings.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>After dinner, Emily, attended by her son, rode
+towards Heath Hall.</p>
+
+<hr class='c013'>
+
+<p class='c008'>When Gusty May had left the breakfast-table
+for his walk to Grove Cottage, Hagar took her
+two children up to her own chamber—to her old
+eyrie in the third story. This room also was
+unchanged—except—yes! there sat her children’s
+little rose-wood crib, with all its furniture,
+just as it was before it had been sold at the third
+execution. There could be but <em>one</em> to whom she
+was indebted for this delicate attention, and
+though her morbid pride was at first startled, yet
+her affections were touched by this instance of
+disinterested friendship.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Without any pretensions, Gusty was doing
+everything to sanctify the uses of adversity to
+the heart of Hagar. It was impossible not to
+be softened by the kind offices of a friendship
+that gave everything without hope or even
+thought of return. This was Hagar’s first, her
+<em>very</em> first experience of disinterested affection—the
+love of Raymond was intensely selfish, craving
+only the possession of its object, regardless
+of her affections or her happiness—and Hagar
+had felt that bitterly through all her married life,
+and most bitterly in her desertion. The effect
+of this selfish and cruel abandonment on the
+character of Hagar’s mind and heart, must have
+been most deleterious, fatal, but that the antidote
+was provided in a new phase of human sympathy
+revealed to her in the disinterested affection
+of one—an alien by blood—a rejected and humbled
+lover of her girlhood, a sufferer by the same
+treachery that laid her own hopes in the dust;
+one who, without pretending to any fine feelings,
+or expressing any fine sentiments, had quietly
+suppressed and concealed his own griefs, in ministering
+to her wants, in trying to alleviate her
+sorrows. Hagar’s maternity had first inspired
+her deepest prayer—her children had been the
+angels sent to conduct her heart to God—to
+whom, ever since, with an almost hearing, seeing,
+touching faith, she had offered all her joys,
+gratitudes, and praises, and where, alas! she had
+also impiously carried all her fears, complaints,
+and reproaches. But now she must ask a boon
+of Providence, that He would bless and prosper
+the kind soul that she was unable to benefit.
+This was the silent prayer—the silent fragrance
+rising from the bruised heart to heaven—while
+she loosened her babies’ clothes, and laid them
+in the crib to take their forenoon nap. And
+then she looked around the pleasant room with
+its agreeable associations, the extensive prospect
+from the windows of the broad river, the village
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_143'>143</span>with its little stir and bustle on the opposite side,
+the boundless bay with its occasional passing
+packet, all inspiring the feeling of life, liberty,
+and strength. If God is a kind father, as all his
+children devoutly feel and acknowledge, <em>Nature</em>
+is a good nursing mother, and under the care of
+both, Hagar was even now beginning to feel her
+torpid life stir again. She was at <em>home</em>, under
+her own roof; what if the house were half a
+ruin—it was <span class='fss'>HER OWN</span>. She was upon her own
+land, and though it was only a desert heath, it
+was <span class='fss'>HER OWN</span>. There was a sense of independence
+in that, and of pride in the thought that
+for this home she was not indebted to Mr.
+Withers—for, though she still <em>must</em> love him, in
+her high self-appreciation she now felt an unconquerable
+reluctance to receive anything from him
+who had withdrawn his love and personal protection.
+And then there was a sense of returning
+power in the new life that was tiding in and
+filling all her veins. Turning from the window,
+from which she had been gazing, her eye fell
+upon her own image in the glass; that glass
+which had so often reflected the slight dark figure
+of the high-spirited maiden, whose long blue-black
+ringlets glittered down a crimson cheek
+blushing with pride, <em>now</em> gave back the form of
+the matron, whose fair, wan, spiritual face was
+faintly flushed with returning life, and softly
+shaded by the tiny black ringlets of the young
+hair just visible under the delicate lace border
+of her little cap. Hagar scarcely knew herself.
+It was so strange to see that changed picture in
+that frame.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Returning and looking again at her children,
+she drew the light muslin curtain around them,
+and left the room to take a look through the
+house. She went into the large, old drawing-room
+hall, as it was called in those days, and
+there the first thing that met her eyes was her
+grand piano, and her harp, from the Rialto.
+Hagar started in surprise and embarrassment—the
+burden of obligation was beginning to feel
+oppressive—she called Tarquin in.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“When did these arrive, and who brought
+them here?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“They ’riv’ ’tother day, ma’am, by the packet
+‘Future,’ Cap’n Hope, who sent ’em up to the
+Hall by two sailors.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“With any message?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, ma’am, freight paid in advance—dinner
+is ready, Mrs. Withers,” said the man, throwing
+open the parlor door with all the ceremonious
+observance of “better days.” Hagar passed in
+and sat down to her solitary meal. It was a
+well served, delicate little repast, purveyed by
+the affectionate care of Cumbo and Tarquin from
+the rich resources of the Heath and bay, which
+were always abundantly supplied with wild
+game, water fowl, fish, crabs, oysters, &#38;c., in
+their respective seasons. There was no danger
+of our Hagar starving, and that was one comfort;
+nor of her freezing, as long as the forest stood
+behind the Heath, and that was another consolation.
+Her dinner was scarcely over and the
+things removed from the table, when looking
+through the window, she saw Emily on her little
+mare with her little girl before her, and Gusty
+riding by her side. This of course was the first
+sight she had had of Emily for two years past; she
+hastened out to meet her. Gusty had dismounted,
+and was lifting his little sister from his mother’s
+lap, previous to assisting her from the saddle. She
+greeted Hagar with as much cordiality as could
+be expected under the circumstances. Hagar
+immediately ran, and lifting, caressed the little
+girl that was but a few months older than her
+own children. Emily’s sullen anger was somewhat
+softened by witnessing the sincere interest
+manifested by the youthful mother in <em>her</em> child,
+and so they went into the house. Soon Hagar
+led her babies, who could now walk, into the
+room, and the two women for a time forgot—the
+one her pride, the other her anger, and both their
+antagonism, in comparing and admiring the three
+babies as they toddled about. Emily remained
+to tea, and forgot her displeasure so far as not
+only to suppress the fact of her son’s having
+been cashiered, but also to invite Hagar to come
+and spend a week at Grove cottage, as soon as
+she should be able to go out.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The next morning, directly after breakfast,
+Gusty came over to Heath Hall to inquire after
+Hagar and the babies, and to know if she wanted
+anything.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, Gusty, I want to speak to you. Come
+in here, Gusty,” and taking his hand she drew
+him into the drawing-room and pointed to the
+piano and harp.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Ah, yes! certainly! give me a tune!” said
+Gusty, blushing and stammering with embarrassment.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But, Gusty, <em>you</em> sent these here!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh—yes—well—what of it?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Only <em>this</em>, Gusty, that you are <em>very good, too
+good</em> for your own sake—but, Gusty, dear friend,
+you must not lavish such presents upon me.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! nonsense! oh, pshaw! they were sold
+at auction, and I bought them in for a mere
+trifle.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, but, dear friend, there are many reasons
+why you should not offer and I receive costly
+presents like these. Much as I dislike to do it
+I shall have to draw—upon—upon <em>his</em> banker
+and pay you for them as well as for the horse
+and dogs.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<span class='sc'>Hagar!</span>”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Dear Gusty, now listen to me quietly, <em>it
+must be so</em>; and moreover, dear Gusty, you must
+not get into the habit of visiting me every day as
+you appear inclined to do. You must never
+come to see me, Gusty, except in company with
+your mother.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<span class='sc'>Thunder!</span>” roared Gusty. “Hagar, how
+have I deserved that sentence? I can’t stand
+that!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Listen, Gusty! when I was a girl you know I
+did not care at all what people said or thought of
+me. I cared for nothing but to keep my Maker’s
+laws, because no one cared for me then.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And no one cares for you <em>now</em> as I can
+see!” said Gusty, rudely.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No—<em>but I care for others</em>! I care for the
+honor of one whose honor is more vulnerable
+through <em>me</em> than through <em>himself</em>! Once I was
+unconnected, and if society had misunderstood,
+judged, and condemned me, I should have fallen
+alone! and so I had courage to do as I pleased
+and defy the fate! <em>now</em> I am closely entwined
+with others, who, when <em>I</em> am struck down, fall
+with me. I am weak, fettered, enslaved through
+them, Gusty. I cannot do as I please, and
+though I esteem and respect you beyond all
+other people in the world with one exception,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_144'>144</span>and though your society would be the greatest
+solace in my reach, yet I must forego it, dear
+Gusty.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You have no faith in my honor, in your own
+purity, or in God! that is just the amount of it,”
+growled Gusty, straightening himself up with
+tears in his eyes as he buttoned up his greatcoat.
+“It seems to me you are not yourself; you are
+weak.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I am weak <em>through those I love</em>, Gusty!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And do you, Hagar, really <em>hope</em> to propitiate
+the gossips of —— county by this course? and
+do you, a deserted wife!—there it’s out! well!
+it has been <em>in</em> both our minds continually, so it
+had as well come out. I say, do you expect to
+be let alone? Do you not know that the old
+grudge against your wild girlhood will be
+remembered, and now that an opportunity is
+offered, will be visited with fury on your head.
+You will be cast forth from here, Hagar; a
+ground-swell of slander and persecution will lift
+and lift you, Hagar, until you take wing. Did
+you think when I brought you to be nursed into
+health and strength by the bracing air of your
+native heath, that I thought that <span class='fss'>YOU</span> would stay
+<em>here</em>? No, Hagar! I could prophesy <em>more</em>
+for you, but I will not now. I will leave you to
+the force of circumstances; to the inspirations of
+your own genius—to God in fine. But you are
+wrong to discard me. I have not deserved it.
+<em>I</em> say it! But I charge all this weakness of
+yours upon bodily ill health. Good morning,
+Hagar;” and shaking her hand affectionately,
+he clapped his hat upon his head and went out.</p>
+
+<hr class='c013'>
+
+<p class='c008'>It happened as Gusty had predicted. Hagar
+remained weeks, months at Heath Hall, and no
+one visited her—not a soul had come to welcome
+her back to her native neighborhood except the
+Buncombes. All sorts of evil reports got into
+circulation against her. She was, as Gusty said,
+a rich waif for the gossips of —— county.
+Some were contented with repeating that her
+husband had left her, that “of course he had
+good reason,” asserting that they “had always
+expected it.” Others declared that <em>she</em> had
+eloped from <em>him</em>, and averred that they had
+“said so long ago.” Some said positively that
+he had left her upon account of the intimacy
+subsisting between herself and Lieutenant May—others
+had discovered that Lieutenant May had
+been cashiered upon her account, &#38;c., &#38;c., &#38;c.
+Many other and more fatal rumors got into
+circulation, and though they never reached the
+ears of Hagar, she felt them in the utter abandonment
+and solitude into which she was
+suffered to fall; for even Emily’s visits became
+shorter and colder, and “few and far between,”
+until they ceased altogether, and Hagar Withers
+was left <em>alone</em>! And it was under these
+circumstances, and when her twins were little
+over a year old, that her third child was born.
+It was a little, fair-skinned, blue-eyed, golden-haired
+boy—with the very soul of Raymond
+Withers reposing on his features; and Hagar, if
+she could not love the babe more upon that
+account, was happier in her love, because the
+face of the baby gave her back the features of
+her absent and lost one.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XXXVII.<br> <span class='c009'>REMORSE.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“Pangs more corrosive and severe,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>More fierce, more poignant and intense</div>
+      <div class='line'>Than ever hostile sword or spear</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Waked in the breast of innocence.”</div>
+      <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>Margaret of Anjou.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>Rosalia Aguilar was not one to enjoy an
+hour’s impunity in sinning. From the time of her
+passing Churchill’s Point—through all the days
+of her passage down the bay to Norfolk—up to
+the time of her embarkation—and through all
+the weeks of her long sea voyage, she had
+remained in a sort of horrid waking dream—with
+her life broken off in the middle, and its
+innocence and happiness wafted away—receding
+with the receding shores of her native country.
+Raymond vainly waited for the struggle to cease,
+when she might repose calmly in his power.
+The struggle <em>had</em> ceased, but the issue had not
+been what he hoped and expected. The struggle
+had ceased—passion was conquered, and remorse
+was the victor, the judge, and the executioner.
+Her health declined daily; her features
+grew sharp, and her complexion of a blue transparent
+paleness. She became so feeble at last
+as to be almost unable to go upon deck. Every
+day she expressed an earnest wish to reach the
+end of her voyage. Every hour she besought
+Raymond when he should land, to place her in
+some quiet, obscure retreat, and leave her for ever—leave
+her to die alone—to die in peace. And
+Raymond would endeavour to soothe her, while
+evading her despairing entreaties. At last
+Rosalia ceased to make them, and seemed
+resigned to her destiny. And Raymond deceived
+himself with the fond belief that she was content,
+and pleased himself with the hope that once upon
+the shores of sunny Italy her health and spirits
+would return, especially when towards the end
+of the voyage, and after they had entered the
+Mediterranean, she revived so much as to be able
+to come on deck every morning and evening.
+In this seemingly promising state of affairs, they
+arrived at Genoa—the post of Raymond Withers’s
+consulship. On the voyage out Miss
+Aguilar had passed for what she really was—the
+ward of Captain and Mrs. Wilde—going out
+under the protection of the new Consul, to
+rejoin them. It had been the design of
+Raymond Withers, on reaching the shores of
+Italy, to find some convenient and obscure, but
+beautiful palazzo, buried in some fragrant grove
+by the side of some lovely stream—furnish and
+adorn it to please his own luxurious taste, and
+enshrine his idol there, where the privacy of the
+retreat would prevent exposure for some time.
+How he expected to meet the further difficulties
+that make “the way of the transgressors so hard”
+does not appear.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>They landed at Genoa. Raymond Withers
+took his ward at once to a hotel, saw her
+comfortably ensconced in her own apartment,
+and promising to meet her at dinner, left her for
+the purpose of presenting his credentials in the
+proper quarter.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>It was about three o’clock when he left the
+hotel—it was five when he returned, sought his
+own chamber, changed his dress, and sent a
+waiter to the apartment of Miss Aguilar, to
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_145'>145</span>know if she were ready for dinner. The man
+returned after some time, saying that he supposed
+the young lady was sleeping, as he had knocked
+loudly but received no answer. Raymond
+settled it in his own mind that she was taking an
+afternoon’s nap, and waited patiently for an hour,
+then touching the bell, he sent the waiter that
+answered it again to the chamber of Rosalia,
+and again the man returned in a few minutes,
+with the information that the young lady was
+still sleeping. Raymond thought that Rosalia
+was taking a very long sleep, and hoped she
+might awake refreshed and cheerful, and be able
+to spend the evening pleasantly with him. He
+ordered dinner and ate it alone. Then selecting
+a delightful little private parlor, which contained,
+among other luxuries, a grand piano, he
+took possession of it, giving directions that an
+elegant little supper should be prepared and set
+on the table there at ten o’clock.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>And there he sat waiting, promising himself an
+evening of delight, with Rosalia’s society, and
+his long lost luxury—music. At nine o’clock
+he sent a third time to the chamber-door, and a
+third time the waiter returned to say that no
+answer was given to his knock. Now, for the
+first time, a feeling of uneasiness arose in
+Raymond Withers’s bosom; and reluctant as he
+was to violate any of the external proprieties of
+life, whatever he might do with its moralities, he
+determined to go to her room and see what was
+the matter. He went, rapped at her door,
+received no answer—rapped a second time and
+louder, and waited, listening with his ear to the
+lock; <em>all was silent as death!</em> Then he tried
+the lock and found it fast. In real alarm now
+he knocked loudly, beating and shaking the door,
+and calling on the name of Rosalia—then
+suddenly stopping while the sounds died away
+in silence, he put his ear to the key-hole and
+listened—<em>the stillness of the grave was within!</em>
+Terrified now, he hastened from the door to the
+nearest bell-rope, jerked it down, and broke the
+wires with his energetic pull, sending peals of
+alarm through the house that brought the landlord
+and half the servants in the establishment
+to his presence.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Are you sure that this is the room in which
+the young American lady was placed?” he
+inquired of the host.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Si, Signore.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Are you <em>certain</em>?” he again asked in Italian.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Si, Signore, <em>certainly</em>,” replied the landlord
+in the same language.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Then I must have the door forced—the
+young lady entered this chamber at three o’clock,
+and though summoned both to dinner and to
+supper, has not made her appearance or replied
+to the call, or given, in fact, the slightest sign of
+her presence, or even of her existence! and it is
+now ten o’clock. I am extremely anxious concerning
+her, and must have the door forced.
+Clear away all these people, signor landlord;
+I did not want the whole establishment about my
+ears—and bring an instrument to force this lock.
+I tell you that I am consumed with anxiety!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Si, Signore; what does Signore think may
+be the matter?” inquired the host, as with a wave
+of his hand he dismissed all his attendants and
+took a master key from his girdle.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Matter! how can I tell? the lady may be
+ill, dead, in a lethargy; open the door; <em>do!</em>
+without more delay.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The landlord placed the key in the door,
+turned it, and throwing open the door, bowed,
+and was about to withdraw, when Raymond
+Withers recalled him by a gesture, and both
+entered the chamber. The room was unoccupied,
+the bed empty, and its perfectly smooth and
+neat appearance proved that it had not been
+slept in. Yet Rosalia’s trunks were on the floor;
+her pet doves, released from their cage, were
+perched upon the top of the dressing-glass; and
+even her dark blue velvet travelling dress and
+close beaver bonnet, lay upon the white Marseilles
+counterpane that covered the bed. Raymond
+gazed around in perplexity and distress.
+There was no other mode of exit from the room
+except the door by which they had entered, and
+the windows; he went to one and raised it;
+pshaw! the fall to the ground was fifty feet; a
+bird would have risked its neck in taking the
+flight; and Raymond turned away from the
+window in despair, to detect the landlord’s smile,
+which was quickly drawn in as he met his guest’s
+anxious gaze of inquiry, and replied to it by
+saying—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“The young lady could only have left the
+room by the door at which we entered, sir—and
+she must have locked her door, and taken the key
+with her; and to prove it, see—there is no other
+means of exit from the room; and when we
+came we found the door fastened, the room
+vacant, and the key gone,” said he, pointing to
+the lock. Raymond Withers was half stupified
+with astonishment at her absence, and alarm for
+her fate.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Had she any acquaintance in the city?” inquired
+the host.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, of course not—<em>not one</em>—she was a perfect
+stranger.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“She <em>may</em> be in the house; I will inquire,”
+said the landlord.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Do</em>, and be quick, will you?” said Raymond
+Withers, lifting the lamp from the dressing-table,
+where he had set it at first entering the room.
+As he raised up the light, his eyes fell on a small
+white note that, lying upon the white cover of
+the table, had escaped his first glance, so that he
+had set the lamp down upon it and concealed it
+until this instant. Snatching it up now, he saw
+that it was directed to himself in the hand-writing
+of Rosalia; he tore it open and read—</p>
+
+<p class='c014'>“Good-bye, Raymond—I am gone. Forgive me, Raymond,
+all the sin I have caused you to commit—all the
+suffering I have made you undergo—and when I dare to
+pray, I will implore the God of Mercy to bless and heal
+you. I have left you in this abrupt manner, Raymond,
+because I knew that you would not have suffered me
+to depart had you suspected my intentions; nor, to tell
+the truth, had I the courage to brave the anguish of a
+parting scene. I had long resolved on this. Indeed,
+had it not been for this resolution, I should never have
+lived to reach the land, Raymond. This resolution was
+the secret of my recovery at sea; a temporary recovery
+only, I begin now to think it was, Raymond, for to-night
+a mortal languor overpowers me; I can scarcely raise
+myself from my chair, or draw one weary foot after the
+other; yet must their last strength be spent in bearing
+me away from you, as surely as my last breath shall be
+spent in praying for you, Raymond. I do not know
+where I am going—towards what point of the compass
+my failing steps will stray—to some quiet spot where I
+can lie down and go to sleep—I have not been to sleep
+since <em>that day</em>!—that day when I kneeled down by the
+side of your lounge, and, with my head upon your
+cushion, sobbed myself to sleep, while you looked gently
+in my face and stroked my hair, soothing into stillness
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_146'>146</span>the tempest in my bosom. Ah, that day, when waking
+up, I, unfortunate! became your Eve, tempting you to
+sin! No more, alas! I have not slept since then; for
+though I have laid down and shut my eyes, I have never
+lost myself—never lost consciousness of my sin—my
+remorse—and never lost sight of one image—the image
+of Hagar! oh! I feel it sacrilege for me to trace the letters
+that form her name!—of Hagar, as she stood pale
+in the grey morning light, with her black hair streaming
+down her wan cheeks. In that form her spirit always
+stands before me night and day, and I cannot shut it
+out and sleep. I shall escape this image in leaving you,
+Raymond, and so I shall be permitted to go to sleep and
+die; for it was you she followed, cleaved to, not me;
+and this is the reason, I know it, she never looks indignant
+and reproachful as she used to look at me, even
+when I did not understand her look—but deprecating,
+loving, imploring, and most wretched as she used to
+look at you when in her anguish she forgot that other
+eyes than yours were on her. Good-bye, Raymond!
+my tears are falling fast—thank God, they can flow once
+more! they have been scorching up in their fountains
+so long! Ah, now I understand poor Hagar’s dry sobs!
+and the untold agony breaking forth through them! as
+much more awful than the grief of tears as the burning
+sirocco of the desert is more terrible than the April
+shower. Well, I can weep now, thank God! Come, I
+shall be able to sleep soon; perhaps I shall even grow
+calm enough to die. Good-bye—take care of my doves;
+I would like to take them with me, but they would
+perish where I shall go to sleep. Give them to Hagar’s
+children—there! now the tears are raining from my
+eyes again. Oh, Raymond, I would lose my soul to
+save, to redeem yours! would descend into hell to purchase
+you a place among the archangels! Good-bye!
+good-bye! Alas! I shall write all night; I cannot tear
+myself from the paper that yet connects me with you.
+Good-night, Raymond! I pour my whole heart and
+soul, my life and immortality in one blessing, and
+breathe it in the words, <em>Good-Night</em>!</p>
+
+<p class='c017'>“Why has a revolution passed through my soul
+within the last minute, and since writing the last good night?
+Why do I feel now as though it were a sin to
+leave you? Am I going crazy again? Oh, my God!
+Let me escape while a ray of reason is left to light my
+path! Good-night, again, and yet again! Bless, <em>bless</em>
+you, Raymond! Oh, if I could dissolve my being into a
+fragrance of blessing, and envelope you in it!—into a
+halo of blessing, and crown you with it!—that I could
+do what I please with my own soul, and lose it in your
+heart to give you fuller life! Yes, I would annihilate
+myself and give my spirit to enlarge your life; and yet
+I cannot do a <em>less</em> thing—I cannot, <em>cannot</em> break the
+heart of a sister woman—of Hagar—even for <em>you</em>. Raymond!
+<span class='sc'>Cannot!</span> do you hear and understand, Raymond?
+For though I would give my body to be burned,
+and my soul to perdition for your sake, I have <span class='fss'>NO RIGHT
+TO SACRIFICE ANOTHER</span>! and that truth has been thundered
+in my ears until my very brain is stunned. My
+senses are reeling, whirling. I scarcely know where I
+am, what I write, where I go; I only feel, oh God! that
+I leave you for ever—that my whole soul sobs forth in
+bitterest anguish its wail—<em>Good-Night</em>!”</p>
+
+<p class='c011'>The first part of this passionate and incoherent
+letter was nearly illegible with the marks of
+tears; the last sentences were traced wildly and
+scrawlingly.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Seeing the excitement, the insanity under
+which this letter must have been written, and in
+the deepest grief for her loss, and the utmost
+alarm for her safety, he hastened from the room,
+and caused the strictest inquiries to be set on
+foot, that resulted, however, in nothing satisfactory.
+The chambermaid who had attended her
+on her first arrival was questioned, but could only
+say that just as soon as she had assisted the
+young lady in removing her travelling dress, she
+had been dismissed by her. The porter was examined,
+but had seen no one pass answering to
+the description of the young American lady. So
+all the people about the establishment were interrogated
+without any information being elicited.
+A fruitless search was kept up through all the
+night—no trace of the fugitive could be discovered.
+This was perhaps the very first night’s
+rest that Raymond Withers, the systematic voluptuary,
+had ever lost. Towards sunrise, after
+having given directions for the search to be kept
+up, he threw himself upon his bed, and overcome
+by anxiety, watching, and fatigue, slept the sleep
+of exhaustion. Late in the day he awoke, with
+that dreary sense of vague weight that oppresses
+the head and brain at the first awakening after a
+great sorrow. It was some minutes before the
+fact was clear before his eyes. Rosalia fled—Rosalia
+lost—wandering, and exposed, in all her
+tenderness and delicacy, to all the horrors of unsheltered
+life. This was the first time that the
+benevolence of Raymond Withers had been
+awakened for his victim. Her mental and moral
+throes and struggles he had not pitied, because
+he had not understood them; but the epicurean
+fully comprehended and greatly exaggerated the
+importance of the physical sufferings she might
+have to endure. He dressed in haste, and going
+out inquired anxiously if news had been received
+of Miss Aguilar. He was told that no clue had
+been found by which to trace her course. All
+that day was spent in a vain search through the
+city and its suburbs—all that week was devoted
+to sending messengers down all the public roads,
+and to the neighboring villages seeking the lost
+one; but the end of the week—the end of the
+month, found them as far from the attainment of
+their object as they were at its commencement.
+Once or twice it had occurred to Raymond
+Withers that she might have fled to Captain
+Wilde and Sophie, “her young heart’s cynosure,”
+but then he quickly recollected that Captain and
+Mrs. Wilde were a thousand miles off, at Constantinople.
+At last he determined on sending
+off the letters and packets that had been intrusted
+to Rosalia for Sophie, to write to Captain
+Wilde, and to mention merely the facts that Miss
+Aguilar had come out under his protection with
+the purpose of joining them at Constantinople—that
+immediately upon landing at Genoa she had
+mysteriously disappeared, and that though the
+most vigilant search had been instituted, and kept
+up even to the present moment, no clue to her
+retreat had been found.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>It has been said by some philosopher that
+“Without disease and pain, we should never
+know that we have a body—and without sin and
+remorse, never feel that we have a spirit.” Raymond
+Withers could have controverted the first
+part of this proposition by his own experiences—he
+was deliciously conscious of his bodily existence
+through its perfect health and keen enjoyments;
+but he could have endorsed the latter
+clause with a pen dipped in tears of blood.
+Through all its downy coverings of soft voluptuousness,
+his spirit had been reached and
+wounded to the very quick; and the method of
+his remorse was quite characteristic.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>By his own agony at the loss of Rosalia, he was
+enabled for the first time to understand and
+sympathize with the just and the greater anguish
+of Hagar at his desertion, and to comprehend in
+a word, the enormity of his offence. He might
+have gone on in his luxurious self-indulgence
+and self-enjoyment for years, had he not yielded
+to a strong temptation, and wounded his spirit
+with sin. Now all luxury palled upon his
+senses—he turned, sickened, from the choicest
+viands of his table—despairing from the most
+delightful prospects of nature, and from the most
+beautiful specimens of art—music was torture,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_147'>147</span>and even in the deepest repose of his body the
+wounds of his spirit were most keenly felt, until
+the sensitive epicurean, who would have shrunk
+from the slightest abrasion of his delicate skin—invoked
+bodily pain as a relief from spiritual anguish.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Was this illicit love cured, then? Ah, no!
+not when just as the cup of guilty pleasure had
+been raised to his lips, it had been dashed untasted
+to the ground—not when just as the prize
+was within his grasp it had been snatched away.
+Nay, that very disappointment of his hopes at
+the moment of their expected realization
+sharpened and intensified his desire, while the
+sin—the sin, as well as the remorse he suffered,
+gave power and depth to his passion! The
+boon for which he had bartered his soul, defied
+God, and lost Heaven, became by the costly
+purchase a priceless treasure.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>There is a crisis in the rise and progress of
+an evil passion, when its victim becomes morally
+insane, I had nearly written morally irresponsible.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>It is the period described in the beautiful
+language of Scripture, as the time when the
+Spirit of God ceases to strive with the heart of
+man—when he is given over to reprobacy of
+mind—when Ephraim, joined to his idols, is left
+alone—when the prodigal son receives his portion
+and is suffered to go forth and seek the
+desire of his heart, and find by bitter experience,
+that forbidden things may be bright to the vision
+but scorching to the touch—as the restless and
+eager infant permitted at last to catch at the
+coveted flame of the candle, learns by its own
+suffering that pain follows the contact of fire—in
+a word, when the unbeliever is suffered to prove
+for himself the bitterness of sin. Is this utter
+abandonment then? Ah, no! The heart that
+has sinned, suffered, and repents, is forgiven.
+The babe has burned its fingers, and learned
+that the flame is not to be touched with impunity,
+and we may be sure it will not be touched
+again. The returning prodigal is received half
+way without a single reproach for the past,
+without the exaction of a single pledge for the
+future; is received upon his experience and his
+penitence. Ephraim turning from his idols, is
+accepted; and the Spirit of God comes again
+to dwell in the heart that is opened to receive
+him. I say again, when a violator of the moral
+law suffers, it is not by the vengeance of a God
+of infinite love and mercy—but it is by a pain he
+finds in the sin itself. But this by the way.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The downward progress of evil has been
+aptly called a gently inclined plane, of so
+gradual a descent that the sinner believes himself
+to be walking on level ground all the while.
+“Easy is the descent to hell,” said Horace, and
+doubtless such is most frequently the case; but
+there are instances in which the downward
+course is very rapid; where the sinner has started
+in a run, and after a while—and this answers to
+the crisis, the insanity of passion—<em>gets an impetus</em>
+that makes a pause <em>impossible</em>, until he falls
+prostrate at the bottom of the abyss.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Such was the case with Raymond Withers—he
+had reached the crisis of his moral disorder—the
+insanity of passion—when he was scarcely
+responsible for his acts; yet not upon this
+account shall he enjoy impunity for he could,
+by a little timely self-discipline, have saved himself
+from moral mania.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He is answerable for the loss of his moral
+sanity, if not for acts of his phrensy. But to
+those acts: With the fatuity of passion, he
+fancied that were he free to seek the hand of
+Rosalia, her conscience would be quieted, her
+reluctance overcome, and that she would give a
+cheerful response to his love. He brooded over
+this idea of freedom from his matrimonial bonds
+with the pertinacity of monomania, until it
+seemed possible—next probable—then every way
+natural, proper, and desirable—finally inevitable.
+A savage resolution, by fair means or foul, to
+divorce his wife,—or, what was more feasible in
+his apprehension, to compel her to divorce him—a
+morose determination to recover and marry
+Rosalia, at any cost of his own integrity and
+peace, and others’ rights and happiness, occupied
+his whole thoughts. It was just at this crisis
+that he received a letter from Hagar. It was
+dated from Heath Hall, just after the birth of
+her son. It announced that fact, and gave a
+short but full account of all that happened since
+he left home, as well as of all her plans for the
+future, as far as she had laid them out. Could
+you have seen the succession of quick, short,
+self-congratulatory nods with which he read
+this letter, the smile of fiendish inspiration with
+which he folded it up and placed it in his desk,
+you would have given him up for lost, though
+you had been his very guardian angel!</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>With this diabolical grimace still upon his
+face, Raymond Withers took pen and paper, sat
+down and wrote a reply, sealed and sent it off
+that same day by a homeward-bound vessel.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XXXVIII.<br> <span class='c009'>THE WOUNDED EAGLE.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“Eagle, this is not thy sphere!</div>
+      <div class='line'>Warrior bird! what dost thou here?</div>
+      <div class='line'>Wherefore by the fountain’s brink</div>
+      <div class='line'>Dost thy royal pinion sink?</div>
+      <div class='line'>Wherefore on the violet’s bed</div>
+      <div class='line'>Lay’st thou thus thy drooping head?</div>
+      <div class='line'>Thou, that hold’st the blast in scorn—</div>
+      <div class='line'>Thou, that bear’st the wings of morn!</div>
+      <div class='line'>Lift thy glance! The fiery sun</div>
+      <div class='line'>Now his pride of place hath won!</div>
+      <div class='line'>And sweet sound hath filled the air,</div>
+      <div class='line'>For the mountain lark is there.</div>
+      <div class='line'>Looking on thine own bright skies—</div>
+      <div class='line'>Eagle! wilt thou not arise?”</div>
+      <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>Hemans.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>The spring and summer had passed, and
+autumn was at hand, yet Hagar had received no
+letter, or message, or news of her husband.
+True, the foreign mail was very irregular, interrupted,
+and uncertain, for those were not the
+days of steamships, and Emily had not heard
+from her brother for several months. Hagar
+bore the slow torture of suspense as well as she
+could, occupying herself with the care of her
+three children. She was abandoned to a life
+that would have been utter solitude, but for the
+society of her children and the attendance of
+her servants. At first coming home, she had
+regularly attended divine service at the parish
+church; but seeing that her presence there merely
+drew off the attention of the congregation
+from their ritual to gaze her out of countenance,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_148'>148</span>as though she had been a monster, and feeling,
+besides, a difficulty in worshipping among a set
+of people, who, from malice or thoughtlessness,
+had slandered and forsaken her, she discontinued
+her attendance upon the preaching, thereby
+giving occasion for fresh calumny. The hours
+not occupied with her family cares were occasionally
+spent in the pursuits of her old and favorite
+pastimes, her forest hunts with horse and
+hounds, or her fishing excursions in a light skiff
+propelled by one oar. But she liked best her
+exhilarating woodland sports with their lifegiving
+power. The resumption of these healthful but
+half savage habits, gave additional offence to the
+conventional autocrats of —— county. In her
+rides she seldom met any one, because her excursions
+were confined to the Heath and woodlands
+of her own ruined plantation; so seldom,
+that when it happened, the person who had seen
+her would say, “I have met Hagar Withers,”
+in much the same tone that you might exclaim,
+“I have encountered the sea-serpent.” And the
+hearer would cry “Indeed! where?” with as
+much astonishment in the first case as they
+might be supposed to feel in the last. It happened
+that the first person who had met her in
+her riding costume was that princess of propriety,
+Mrs. Gardiner Green, who, taking a hasty inventory
+of her short, black, boyish looking curls
+clustering around her forehead and under her
+little riding cap, and the rolling collar, steel
+buttons, and coat-sleeves of her habit, had gone
+away and reported as follows: “She has cut off
+her hair, and dresses like <em>a man</em>!” In her perfect
+isolation, Hagar heard nothing of all this
+latter talk.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>I said that God was a kind father and Nature
+a tender, nursing mother; and that our Hagar
+was getting well under their care. And so it
+was. In spite of all her past wrongs, griefs, and
+sufferings, in defiance of all her present regrets,
+suspense, and anxieties, her spirits had rebounded
+from their long pressure; health, strength, and
+life were tiding back. The first of October
+found her form erect and robust, her limbs full
+and rounded, her cheeks crimson, and her eye
+brilliant with high health; and Hagar, in her
+returning joy, blessed her native air, woods, and
+waters; praised nature, and worshipped God for
+her resurrection from the dead, her restoration to
+the young exultant life of her glad childhood.
+And what were her plans for the future, and
+what were her thoughts of her husband? Perhaps
+wearied with the weight of the incessant
+thoughts, her mind had thrown off the burden;
+perhaps rebounding from the long and heavy
+pressure, her spirits had sprung away from the
+painful subject; perhaps with the natural wildness
+of her character she had yielded herself up
+with childish carelessness to the enjoyments of
+the present moment. She was disturbed in the
+midst of her enjoyments by the arrival of a letter
+bearing a foreign stamp. She found it lying
+on her plate when she took her seat at the breakfast-table
+one morning. It had been brought by
+Tarquinius from the Post Office late on the previous
+night, after she had gone to rest. She
+snatched the letter hastily, and tearing open its
+seal, read—why do Hagar’s cheeks flush, her
+eyes blaze with indignation? The letter conveyed
+a gross and degrading charge, a humiliating
+and cruel proposition, and a startling and
+alarming threat! yet withal, so cautiously written,
+as were it produced in any court, it would be
+difficult to convict the <em>writer</em> of any more serious
+offence than outraged affection and injured confidence.
+It ran thus:</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-r c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“<span class='sc'>Genoa</span>, July 15th, 182-.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c017'>“<span class='sc'>Hagar</span>:—I have just received your letter, with its
+strange communications—<em>confessions</em>, I should rather
+call them; had such a blow fallen on me a year ago,
+when I did not know you so well, when I esteemed and
+loved you, it would have gone nigh to destroy me! even
+now when I can esteem you no longer, it has given me
+the deepest pain, more for your sake than for my own,
+and more upon our children’s account than either.
+Hagar, was it that Satan, after having tempted you to
+evil, abandoned you to idiocy; was it fatuity? or, was
+it the goading of a wounded conscience that drove you
+to make these shameful revelations to me? Or, as is
+most likely, did you hope by being the <em>first</em> to tell me
+of what was inevitable, that with or without your
+communications, I must soon hear, and by giving your
+own version of the doings at the Rialto, you could thus
+blind me as to the <em>real</em> state of the case? If you thought
+so, Hagar, you yourself were the victim of gross self-deception.
+I will not reproach while judging and condemning
+you, Hagar; that were vain and unworthy, but
+before pronouncing sentence, I will sum up the evidence
+of your guilt as given in your own unconscious confession,
+and out of your own mouth condemn you, for,
+however you may attempt to glaze over the facts, they
+stand thus: No sooner has your husband quitted his
+home, upon his official duties, than lo! his place in
+your house is filled by the lover of your girlhood, Lieutenant
+May, who, without delay, hastens over five hundred
+miles of sea and land to join you: he remains
+with you domesticated under your roof for weeks, and
+until the house is sold over your heads, while every
+respectable female servant quits the premises. He takes
+you from the neighborhood where I had left you, and
+where I expected when I should return to find you, and
+carries you off to Maryland. On the night of your arrival,
+under favor of the storm, you pass the night alone
+together in the old fishing-house, within an eighth of
+a mile of Heath Hall, which you might have reached in
+ten minutes. Then your neighbors, shocked and justly
+indignant at the audacious effrontery of this shameless
+disregard of public sentiment, have very properly abandoned
+you.</p>
+
+<p class='c017'>“Now, then, Hagar, hear me! Since your betrayal
+of these disgraceful circumstances to my knowledge, I
+feel a re-union between us to be impossible. <em>You</em> must
+see and feel this also—nay, you yourself could not desire
+it. Our marriage must be annulled. <em>I</em> could do it
+by widely exposing your guilt, and bringing you to open
+shame. I am unwilling to take this course, unless by
+rejecting the only alternative that I have to offer, you
+leave me no other. This alternative will veil your
+guilt from the general eye—it is a self immolating proposition
+on my part, as I prefer to suffer in myself the
+unmerited condemnation of society, rather than have
+the mother of my children, however well she may deserve
+the fate, consigned to ignominy. My proposition,
+in a word, is <em>this</em>—that <em>you yourself</em> annul our marriage—that
+you divorce <em>me</em>—you can do it upon the plea of
+my desertion of you—suppose that plea was false when
+I left the country, it is true <em>now</em> that I have detected
+your infidelity—urge that plea—your suit will not be
+rejected, for the reason that I shall not oppose it—<em>Do</em>
+it, Hagar! and in return, after it <em>is</em> done, I will bind
+myself to leave you in quiet possession of your home
+and children for the remainder of our lives—<em>Refuse</em> to
+do it, Hagar! and I will return to the United States,
+and with the terrible array of circumstances that can
+be marshalled against you, I will overwhelm you,
+divorce and degrade you, and when that is effected,
+remove my children from the care of a dishonored woman,
+whom private experience, public sentiment, legal
+justice, and legislative wisdom shall have alike condemned,
+as unworthy of their charge. I await your
+reply, Hagar.</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-r c015'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>R. W.”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>I wish you could have seen Hagar as she read
+this letter—how much more courageous she was
+in the endurance than in the anticipation of this
+evil. You would have felt how strong she had
+grown in her sorrows, how nobly she had struggled,
+and how grandly she had soared above
+them. How, after the first start and flash of
+indignation, she had read the letter through, and
+holding it open on her lap, looked straight before
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_149'>149</span>her with that air of calm superiority, of
+grave rebuke, with which one regards the ravings
+of intoxication.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I will not reply to this just yet,” said Hagar,
+to herself—and folding the letter, she put it in
+her pocket and fell into a reverie. It was during
+this reverie that Hagar was inspired with a
+resolution, and formed a highly important plan,
+which, in a few weeks, she prepared to carry into
+effect.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XXXIX.<br> <span class='c009'>A REVELATION.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line in14'>“With wild surprise</div>
+      <div class='line'>As if to marble struck, devoid of sense,</div>
+      <div class='line'>A stupid moment motionless he stood</div>
+      <div class='line'>Pierced by severe amazement, hating life,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Speechless and fixed in all the death of woe.”</div>
+      <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>Thomson’s Seasons.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c004'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line in16'>“Oh! thou lost</div>
+      <div class='line'>And ever gentle victim—whose most fearful</div>
+      <div class='line'>Fate darkens earth and heaven—what thou now art</div>
+      <div class='line'>I know not, but if thou saw’st what I am,</div>
+      <div class='line'>I think thou would’st forgive him—whom his God</div>
+      <div class='line'>May ne’er forgive—nor his own soul.”</div>
+      <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>Byron’s Cain.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>From the time of his sending the letter to Hagar,
+Raymond Withers had renewed his search
+after Rosalia Aguilar with augmented hope and
+zeal. For the result of his proposition to her he
+scarcely felt a doubt. Over that high and proud
+nature, which had bowed before no will beneath
+the Supreme, he had, through the power of her
+strong affections, ever held despotic sway. Now
+indeed he had undertaken a more difficult task,
+to set in antagonism the two strongest, fiercest
+passions of her soul, to oppose her motherly love
+to her wifely affection; and though even by her
+maternal fears he should fail to extinguish her
+conjugal love, at least to silence the cry of its
+claims—to subdue the wife by the mother. But
+Raymond Withers was soon to learn that he had
+not sounded the depths, measured the extent, or
+tested the strength of the soul he wished to subdue;
+and how a few months of peace and
+stormy struggle and suffering had revolutionized
+her nature; that the tempest into which he had
+lashed her strong soul had only revealed from
+what an abyss the waves rolled up in their
+mighty power, and then subsided into passionless
+and profound calm; that the conflagration he
+had kindled in her high heart had only served to
+consume the dross and leave it pure and cool.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>It was while waiting with great impatience to
+receive letters from two opposite quarters of the
+world, namely, from Hagar at the Heath, and
+from Captain Wilde at Constantinople, and
+while expecting with extreme anxiety to hear
+news from that terra incognita, the retreat of
+Rosalia, that he received in a packet of despatches
+from the State Department, a letter from
+Hagar.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Now then!” exclaimed Raymond Withers,
+as he hastened to his own chamber, and shutting
+himself up in its privacy, broke the seal of the
+letter, running his eyes eagerly over its contents—they
+were as follows:</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-r c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“<span class='sc'>Washington City</span>, Oct. 15th, 182-.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c017'>“<span class='sc'>Dearest Raymond</span>:—Your letter, with all its insanities,
+is lying before me. I received it two weeks
+since at Heath Hall, I reply to it from my present residence,
+Washington City. Yes, I have left Heath Hall
+for many years’ absence and wanderings perhaps, and
+this city is only my transient home: passing over the
+reasons and the objects of this course, I will come at
+once to the subjects more interesting to your heart than
+any chance of time or tide that may happen to me can
+be now, unless indeed such chance should remove me
+from the world, which would be ‘a consummation devoutly
+to be wished,’ you think, in your present state
+of mind. Passing also over all that is false in your letter,
+through all that is superficial in your nature, I lay
+my hand upon your naked heart and assert that it does
+not cherish one single suspicion of my purity, that no
+man in earth or in hell could infuse there one single
+doubt of my fidelity, because I am true—that is truth—real
+in your convictions as in my experience, and that
+truth will bind us together, that truth will bring you
+back to me. You once told me that during your long
+and frequent absences before our marriage, you trusted—to
+me—the spirit that even in the form of an infant
+attracted, fascinated, and delighted you—and until passion
+subverted my reason, and your soul was drowned
+in voluptuousness, raised us both as one almost to
+Heaven. How high, how godlike you appeared to me
+then, Raymond; aye, in very truth the image of God;
+your tone could still the wildest tumult, your glance
+subdue the fiercest tempest that ever arose in my stormy
+bosom.</p>
+
+<p class='c017'>“You told me that then you had trusted <em>in</em> me, not
+<em>out</em> of me; <em>in</em> me, for our future union and joy. I quote
+your own words to assure you that you may <em>now</em> trust
+<em>not out</em> of me, but <em>in</em> me, for our <em>final</em> <em>re</em>union and happiness.
+Your faith in me will save you, Raymond;
+will make you whole, will redeem you, will bring you
+back. Does this seem strange language to you, and wide
+of the subject of your letter? So must ever the words
+of truth and soberness seem to one bereft of his reason—as
+you are now—and how can one reply satisfactorily
+to the ravings of insanity! <em>You</em> are insane, Raymond,
+as ever your father was in a different way; his insanity
+was derangement of the brain, yours a disorder of the
+heart; his madness was mental aberration, yours is
+moral illusion. Ah, Raymond! how much more frequent,
+how much more horrible, how much more dangerous
+is moral than mental insanity! and how much
+more heavily visited of man, however it may be met by
+God! You are insane, Raymond! yes, brainsick, as
+well as heartsick <em>now</em>; and in your delirium you would
+exact that which I must not give you, and you threaten
+to visit an awful vengeance on my head if I do not
+comply with your demands. I am smiling, Raymond!
+smiling to recall a scene between a slight and fair-haired
+youth and his father in one of his fits of lunacy; the
+figure of the lunatic stood up, tall, dark, and threatening;
+the youth had dispossessed him of a razor, with which
+he was about to cut his own throat, ‘Give it me! or I
+will tear your heart out!!’ yelled the madman, stamping
+and shaking with fury, while flakes of foam started
+from his lips. The beautiful boy stood before him pale,
+calm, and resolute; with that spirit of indomitable firmness,
+of invincible courage, piercing strongly, steadily
+through the soft fire of his eyes, keeping his gaze fixed
+upon the lunatic, until the mighty force of his <em>sane</em> soul
+cast out the devil, and subdued the ‘embodied storm’
+before him! Do <em>you</em> remember that scene, Raymond?
+I was an infant of seven years old then; but, oh! how
+my soul worshipped that sublime boy! How my spirit,
+that soared proudly above every other sublunary authority,
+bowed before that godlike boy! But now that
+lofty soul is itself struck down, that fine spirit wounded,
+that great heart inflamed, fevered, delirious, and soars
+in its phrensy for a weapon of self-destruction, which I
+will as soon give, Raymond, as you would have yielded
+to the demands and threats of the madman the razor
+that you withheld at the imminent peril of your life.
+Ask me for a divorce a year hence, when you are sane,
+Raymond, and I will give it to you—for I would not
+hold an unwilling mate—no, my God! my whole soul
+recoils from the idea; but I cannot <em>now</em> obey you,
+Raymond; painful and humiliating as it is to me, as it
+<em>must</em> be to me to refuse you this! and more than that,
+disregard your <em>alleged</em> reasons, and addressing myself
+to your consciousness, reply to your <em>real</em> motives.—You
+do not wish to be free from your matrimonial engagements
+for the cause you have expressed; namely, a
+doubt of my fidelity—no, Raymond! you trust in my
+honor as you believe in God!—No, Raymond; there
+was an even stronger motive, if such could be, for your
+wish. In the whole course of your letter you did not
+once mention the name of your <em>compagnon-du-voyage</em>,
+Rosalia Aguilar; yet was <em>she</em> the Alpha and Omega of
+your thoughts? Come! I can think, speak, and write
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_150'>150</span>of her very calmly now. You wish to marry Rosalia.
+Why, Raymond, you will tire of her in a year, even if
+she lives. She is a sweet and lovable girl, yet you do
+not love her as you <em>have</em> loved and <em>will</em> love me. You
+will sicken of her sweetness as a child sickens of a
+surfeit of honey. You will loathe her very charms and
+graces, her lovely and artless smiles and tones and gestures—that
+very melody of motion which entrances
+you <em>now</em>—as only a voluptuary <em>can</em> loathe the poor
+beauty that he has humbled and grown sick of. And
+were you married to her then, why then there would
+be <em>another</em> deserted wife, and where would it stop?
+Forgive me that I speak to you so, Raymond—it costs
+me much pain—much more pain than it costs you. To
+take this tone towards you humbles <em>me</em> in my own
+estimation, more than it can you. I cannot bear to look
+at you with any but an upraised glance. Alas! to see
+you <em>now</em>, I have to look down with veiled eyes. Rise,
+Raymond, rise! I want to see you aloft! my heart
+<em>needs</em> to worship, as it <em>must</em> always love—<em>must</em>, Raymond!
+annihilate my soul, and the last spark that will
+go out will be its love.</p>
+
+<p class='c017'>“I said that you would tire of that poor girl in a year
+if <em>she lives</em>, but she will <em>not</em> live, Raymond; the tempest
+of passion that you have raised in her tender bosom, the
+hell of remorse that you have kindled in her gentle soul
+will destroy her; she will not survive the loss of her
+purity one year. I do not know what she feels, how
+she looks now, but I know that she had frightfully
+changed even before she left the Rialto, before she
+guessed what I even <em>then</em> knew. But <em>you</em> know how
+she looks, you, perhaps, see the rose you have plucked
+and bruised for its fragrance, withering in your hands.
+You see her dying before you, and you fancy that if you
+could marry her she would be at peace, get well and live.
+You think you could cure a conscience-stricken soul by
+satisfying a conventional law. But such would not be
+the case, nor can I now obey you in this matter of a
+divorce. Ask it of me this day twelve months, or any
+day thereafter, and I will do it. I pledge myself to that.
+Ask it of me sanely, honestly, dispassionately, and I
+will do it. Could I then hold you bound, if you wished
+to go? No! though my heart-strings are your only
+fetters, I will snap them to free you.</p>
+
+<p class='c017'>“But you will not ask me to do this <em>when you come
+to yourself</em>. I look for this result, confidently, as I
+expect the storm now beating against my windows to
+cease, and the moon to shine out; quietly, as I watch
+for the night now hanging over the earth to vanish
+before the rising sun; patiently, as I wait for this cold,
+dreary winter to pass away and the spring to come back.
+The storm in <em>my</em> bosom has subsided, the night also of
+my soul is passed. I have suffered and outlived the
+greatest sorrow a human heart could feel, the worst is
+over, and my existence is now a winter day,</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c004'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“‘Frosty but kindly.’</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c019'>I am very quiet now; do you wonder at this, and that
+I write to you so calmly—I who was an embodied
+whirlwind, so coolly—I whom you called incarnated
+lightning! Listen, Raymond—the carriage wheels that
+carried you away, seemed to have rolled over my bosom,
+crushing it nearly to death. I felt the crush distinctly
+as any other physical agony—the dividing crush of
+flesh and muscle, nerve and sinew, while with a sharp
+cry I rolled over like a divided and quivering worm. I
+was picked up by Mrs. Collins, who asked me what
+was the matter. I told her that, lying in your path, an
+obstruction, your carriage had passed over my body,
+cutting it in two; that one half, with my heart, was
+dragged away with the wheels. They put me to bed,
+and said that I was delirious—sent for a doctor, who
+bled, blistered, and drugged me. I was ill a very long
+time. I moaned and laughed, prayed and blasphemed
+by turns; they said that I was mad, but I was not, not
+for one moment. Ah! if I had been mad, I should not
+have raved so! for what in all the imaginings of
+insanity could equal the horrors of my real experience,
+my sane consciousness? When my veins seemed running
+fire—when I burned and burned, and held up my
+hands to see why they did not fall to pieces in cinders
+and white ashes, consuming as they were in a dry heat.
+That ‘lake of fire and brimstone!’ it was within and
+around me! Often I threw myself out of the bed as out
+of a pit of coals, and in my strong agony grasped and
+tore at the floor like one shot through the heart might
+do. Oh! what a rack existence was then! I wished
+to take vengeance on all who had a hand in giving me
+life-God and my parents. Suddenly in the midst of
+that horrible feeling, I was struck with its awful blasphemy,
+penetrated with the truth of God’s goodness
+and mercy—lastly of his omnipotence; and then falling
+again out of my bed, I rolled upon my face on the carpet
+and implored God in mercy to take back the life He had
+given, the life that was consuming fire—to give me the
+profound repose of non-existence—and if this prayer
+was sinful, at least to annihilate the <em>hell</em> in my heart.
+And now, Raymond, for a strange experience. As I
+prayed all things seemed changing around me—the air
+seemed stirred with angel wings, I could hear their
+hushed flapping as they waved a delicious cold dampness
+that seemed to cool my fevered and burning frame
+while it solicited sleep; and all this time my heart’s
+wild hot throbs were subsiding coolly, while it filled
+and filled as a reservoir with peace; and every influence
+around me said gently, lovingly, ‘Sleep, sleep,’ and the
+hot stringency of my eyelids was loosened, and they
+fell cool and moist over the burning balls. And I slept
+and dreamed, a dream of infancy—it seemed to me that
+I lay across grandmother’s dear, soft lap, that it was
+summer and she was fanning me, while a delicious
+coolness ran through all my veins, and filtered through
+all my flesh, exhaling vapor-like from the pores of my
+skin, as I felt myself luxuriously sleeping, breathing, and
+growing. Then came unconsciousness—and then I
+woke up renewed, the fever and the agony were gone, I
+was so cool, so quiet, that but for an aching, throbbing
+nerve in the centre of my heart I should have thought
+that I was happy; some element was gone, the fangs
+of the serpent seemed to have been withdrawn, the
+vulture had taken wing and left my heart to grow; this
+was only a pause in the torture, like an interval of
+repose in travail. Soon your letter came; and, your
+letter written just on the eve of departure, and it
+cast me back into the fire, and the same suffering was
+undergone again. But the same relief came at last. I
+was getting well. I was up, though scarcely able to
+stand or to speak, and quivering all over like the
+recoiling muscles of a torn off limb, when Gusty May
+came to see me, and the shock of his arrival threw me
+back a third time into death and hell, for I saw that <em>he
+knew all!</em> that killed the last faint lingering hope I had.
+It was during this third and worst relapse, that the
+executions were levied on your property. Well, Raymond,
+I recovered of this attack also! but it was not
+until I reached Heath Hall, and until after my third child,
+our boy, was born, that my health was fully re-established.
+I am in high health, now, Raymond! and cool,
+composed, cheerful, strong, and mistress of myself. The
+storm of hail and snow that was raging with fury when
+I commenced this letter, has passed, and the moon is
+shining bright, full, and clear as a mammoth diamond,
+and glistening on the silvery snow, its beams fall on my
+paper and around my head like a halo, a benediction of
+God, a promise of happier and holier days. Farewell
+for the present, Raymond; my home and heart are ever
+open for your return. I do not love you too fiercely
+now, Raymond, for I have all eternity to love you in.
+You are not just now my Raymond, but I am now and
+ever thy</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-r c015'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Hagar</span>.”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>It was curious—the effect of this letter upon
+Raymond Withers. The first page he had perused
+with a frowning brow—opening the sheet
+with a twitch, the second page he read with
+many a “pish!” and “pshaw!”—the third was
+conned over with a softening countenance, and
+at the end of the fourth and last he exclaimed—“What
+the devil sent that infernal temptation
+across my path?—poor Hagar!” And then
+holding the letter behind him, he paced slowly
+up and down the room, with his head bowed
+upon his chest, while remorse, tenderness, disappointment,
+and regret, mingled in the expression
+of his once serene countenance. This was
+strange in the fact, but natural in the circumstances.
+His affection for Hagar had engaged
+his whole soul. She was one to be loved long,
+as well as deeply; her unique beauty, brilliant
+intellect, and high spirit, from her very childhood,
+had supplied to him an inexhaustible subject of
+occupation, interest, and amusement—she had
+met and satisfied every want of his nature. It
+was impossible, with her strong and ardent temperament
+and ever-varying emotions, that she
+could become flat and uninteresting. His passion
+for Rosalia was another matter, a mere delirium
+of the senses, a moral insanity, as Hagar had at
+last understood and described it to be, and as he
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_151'>151</span>himself now knew it to have been—to <em>have been</em>—for
+this passion, stimulated and increased as it
+had at first been by her flight, by her continued
+absence, was already receding into the past.
+Raymond Withers was too much of a sensualist,
+and his love for Rosalia too much an affair of
+the senses to last long after she was lost to sight
+and hearing; therefore for many weeks past his
+passion had been declining, slowly, almost imperceptibly,
+but it was reserved for Hagar’s letter
+to reveal to him the true state of his heart. Now
+he felt that his search for Rosalia had of late
+been conducted from the habit of looking for her
+until he should have found her, from a fear that
+she was lost, had perished by exposure, and from
+a remorse not to be shaken off while her fate
+was enveloped in mystery. He was conscious
+now, especially after reading Hagar’s letter, that
+he was more anxious to hear of Rosalia’s safety
+than even to see her—and the more he pondered
+upon this subject, the more convinced did he feel
+that he no longer desired her presence. A
+strongly setting-in tide of returning affection for
+Hagar filled his bosom to the expulsion of every
+other love—an affection purified by repentance,
+softened by pity, and elevated by respect. It
+was strange how slowly, imperceptibly, but how
+thoroughly he had come to his senses. He read
+Hagar’s letter over again, and sighed many times
+during its perusal, and sometimes paused and
+held it on his knee while he tried to recollect
+the atrocities of his letter to her, and endeavored
+to persuade himself that it was not quite so diabolical
+as he knew it to have been. He arose
+and walked up and down the floor, with his
+hands holding the letter clasped behind him, and
+his head bowed upon his breast—deeply perplexed;
+and then he went up to the full length
+mirror that stood at one end of his luxurious
+dressing-room, and contemplating his elegant
+figure and really dazzling style of beauty, wondered
+impulsively if Hagar would not be very
+glad to get him back upon any terms; and then
+feeling ashamed of his thought, he resumed his
+walk, deeply congratulating himself that they
+had been preserved from the last degree of guilt,
+and that at least the door was at all times open
+for a man’s return to duty, however sternly it
+might be barred against a repenting woman, and
+at that thought, again he thanked God that
+Rosalia Aguilar had been snatched from him,
+before she had fallen to the lowest stage of
+crime. But where <em>was</em> Rosalia? Ah! that
+was the thorn that rankled most; but there were
+others—how should he write to Hagar until she
+was found? and in what terms should he write?—how
+apologize for that “infernal letter,” as he
+called it, as he tried to recollect that it was not
+quite so bad as he remembered it to have been,
+and then, whither should he direct his letter?
+Where would it be likely to find her? Hagar
+was on the wing; at this last thought, he experienced
+a satisfaction in the reflection that here
+was something at last on her part to find fault
+with—she had no right to roam up and down
+the world without having previously informed
+him of her views and intentions, and obtained
+his approbation and consent. He tried to convince
+himself that this was an infringement of
+his rights, a rebellion against his authority; it
+was a useless effort—his heart and reason acquitted
+her of all blame, and he was left to support
+his own load of guilt, remorse, and shame,
+unsustained by any counterbalancing sin on her
+side.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He was conscious of a vague but strong desire
+that Hagar might fall into some imprudence,
+misery, or disgrace, from which he might have the
+honor of rescuing her, so that he might be entitled
+to her gratitude and respect, and so approach her
+with some remnant of self-respect. The idea of
+going to her in any other character than that of
+protector, benefactor—to receive her love upon
+any other terms than those of honor, esteem—oh!
+this was too humiliating, and not to be thought
+of. He did not want her generosity, magnanimity,
+forgiveness; oh! nothing of the kind—the
+idea repulsed, revolted him—he would <a id='t151'></a>do nothing
+of the sort—no, he must have her love, coupled
+as it had been with the high respect reaching
+almost to adoration, such as she had yielded him
+as his due even from her infancy up. He felt
+that it was no small thing to have held the
+sovereignty over Hagar’s high spirit, and that it
+was no small humiliation to have lost it by his
+folly.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>There was now a strong attraction and as
+strong a repulsion about the idea of Hagar—the
+most tantalizing that could be conceived, and
+that chained him to the rack. Her letter had
+struck away, as by the stroke of a strong arm,
+all that stood between them, and he saw her in
+all her beauty, in her fearful but fascinating
+beauty!—he desired of all things on earth to
+seek her, and could scarcely restrain his impatience;
+but he could not go, it seemed impossible.
+True, she had written, “My heart and
+home are ever open for your return,” and though
+no word of <em>penitence</em> might be spoken by him,
+no tone of <em>pardon</em> breathed by her, yet the
+<em>thought</em>—the <em>fact</em>, would exist in the experience
+of both, and the <em>humiliation</em> for him—he could
+not dare it, or bear it! The difficulties that obstructed
+his return to Hagar, all growing out of
+his own bosom as they did, only provoked by
+opposition his strong desire to see her. He
+might now with more truth than formerly have
+written her down, “Hagar, mine only one;” for
+now it seemed that there was but “one Hagar
+in the universe.” After the manner of all
+awakened sinners, how he deplored his sin!—after
+the manner of all restored maniacs, how he
+cursed his folly!—yea, after the manner of all
+sobered drunkards, how he blushed for his degradation!
+And could he appear before Hagar in
+that guise? before Hagar in her recovered and
+greatly increased strength and pride? Days
+passed, and the strongly turning stream of feeling
+was increased in force and volume by every
+circumstance and every thought. Still he continued
+uneasy upon the account of Rosalia; still
+extremely desirous of hearing from Captain
+Wilde; but, higher, deeper, and broader—covering
+all these, was the thought of Hagar. Ah,
+God! the more he contemplated it, the more
+alarming it became.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar, not quite twenty years old, young, yet
+strong, high spirited, audacious, proud of <em>herself</em>,
+apart from social position or the estimation of
+others—of Hagar, beautiful, piquant, and provoking
+beyond every other woman he ever saw—of
+Hagar, ardent, enthusiastic, and impulsive—but,
+no! he could not receive the idea suggested by
+this last circumstance; he could not conceive
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_152'>152</span>that his high-souled Hagar <em>could</em> become the victim
+of her ardent temperament. No, he believed
+as she had said, in her honor, as he believed in
+God. But some other man’s sacrilegious eyes
+might covet <em>her</em> as he had coveted Rosalia—and
+she was human and might be tempted. At this
+thought Raymond sprang up from the sofa, upon
+which he had been reclining, with a sudden love
+and anger striving in his heart, as Hagar’s irresistibly
+charming face, with its crimson cheeks
+and lips and eyes of splendid fire, flashed in upon
+his brain, as in the days of her highest glory.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“After all, she is mine—my <em>own</em>—I have not
+given her up <em>yet</em>! and never will—<em>never</em>! I
+will resist to the death any effort that may be
+made to tear her from my possession! Yes,
+Hagar, I may lose your heart, but I will even
+<em>slay</em>, rather than give you up. What right has
+she to leave her home and travel over the world
+exposing herself in this manner? and where
+does <a id='t152'></a>she find the means? I know that she travels
+with her family, for she would die rather than be
+severed from one of her children, and above all,
+what is her object? I should fancy that she
+were seeking me—God grant it!—I could face
+her, if she humbled herself to seek me—but no,
+she will never do that. No, if I ever hope to
+possess Hagar again, I shall have to <em>woo</em> her
+again.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He was interrupted in the midst of his confused
+thoughts by the entrance of his page, who
+brought him the post-bag: emptying it, his eye
+fell upon a letter directed in the hand-writing of
+Sophie Wilde. The letter bore date two months
+back; it had evidently been detained on its passage.
+It was short, nearly illegible, and evidently
+written in the most excruciating anguish
+of mind. It ran thus:—</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-r c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“<span class='sc'>Constantinople</span>, Oct. 1st, 182-.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c017'>“<span class='sc'>Dear Raymond</span>:—The receipt of your letter, with
+its most terrible intelligence, made me ill; so ill that for
+three weeks I have not been able to rise from my bed,
+and so could not, before this, answer it. Captain Wilde
+was not with me at the time of its receipt, and is not
+here now. I had no one but foreigners around me—so
+that there was none to act as my amanuensis, even
+had I been capable of dictating. In the name of God,
+where is Rosalia? I have been looking, and am still
+looking with anxiety, daily, for another letter from you,
+telling me that she is found. A thousand fears and
+anxieties torture my breast. Tell me, did she form any
+ill-judged attachment on her voyage out?—and was
+any one else missing when she went? Tell me why
+did you not write daily to keep me advised of your progress
+towards the discovery of her fate? Raymond, I
+can scarcely hold you blameless! I require her at your
+hands! never face me again without Rosalia’s insured
+safety! Yet, how cruel in me to write to you thus; to
+you, who must be severely afflicted at her loss. Oh,
+Raymond! you do not know how much right you have
+to be so! You are the nearest, the only relative, she
+has on earth! I have lately received, and now possess,
+incontestable proof of what I am about to reveal to
+you:—<em>Rosalia Withers is your own sister, Raymond!</em>—the
+daughter of both your parents——”</p>
+
+<p class='c011'>He read no further; the paper fell from his stiffening
+fingers; a mortal sickness, <em>nausea</em>, seized
+him, horror swam in upon his brain, and barely
+murmuring—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, my God! what a sink of crime and infamy
+I have narrowly escaped!” he fell forward
+upon his face!</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XL.<br> <span class='c009'>HAGAR’S RESOLVE.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“Once more alone—and desolate, now, for ever</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>In truth the heart whose home was once in thine:</div>
+      <div class='line'>Once more alone on life’s terrific river,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>All human hope, exulting I resign.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“Alone I brave the tempest and the terror,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Alone I guide my being’s fragile bark,</div>
+      <div class='line'>And bless the past with all its grief and error,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Since Heaven still bends above my pathway dark.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“At last I taste the joy of self-reliance;</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>At last I reverence calmly my own soul;</div>
+      <div class='line'>At last I glory in serene defiance</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>Of all the wrong that would my fate control.”</div>
+      <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>Frances S. Osgood.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>I must remind you that Hagar, after reading
+her husband’s letter, had fallen into a reverie
+that terminated in a resolve. It was inspired by
+a reflection upon her position and circumstances.
+She had three children, be it remembered, and
+all under three years old. She had no visible
+means of supporting herself and these children,
+for whom especially she wished to procure every
+comfort and every luxury that was desirable.
+She had drawn out the little balance left with his
+banker by Raymond Withers, and had used the
+greater part of it in paying her debts contracted
+with Gusty May; and what remained went to
+defray the expenses attending her last accouchement.
+She had nothing left. Winter was approaching,
+and the winters at Heath Hall, from
+its remarkably bleak and exposed situation, as
+well as from the ruinous state of the building,
+were felt very severely. Her own and her children’s
+wardrobe was becoming very much the
+worse for wear, and it was highly necessary that
+it should be replenished. In fact, poverty, absolute
+want, was staring Hagar in the face. It
+was proper that something should be done to
+supply her necessities before they became importunate.
+It was too late in the season now to
+apply to her husband for relief, even if she could
+have bowed her pride to do so. A letter could
+not reach him and its reply come to her before
+the spring. What should she do? To remain
+at Heath Hall through the winter was impossible.
+Little as the place <em>looked</em> to be changed,
+every cold and windy day and every rainy day
+proved that no room in the house was weather-tight.
+When it rained the water streamed down
+into the very best room, as though it would set
+the carpet afloat. In cold weather it was even
+worse—the air poured in from all quarters, and
+no quantity of fire could warm the rooms. Tarquinius
+asserted with great truth, that to make a
+fire in the parlor was like trying to heat “all
+out of doors.” I should say, that from the
+bleakness of its situation the winter came a
+month sooner and remained a month later at the
+Heath, than at any other place within the same
+latitude.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>On that particular morning, when Hagar sat
+at the breakfast-table cogitating, it was cold and
+frosty everywhere, but it was <em>very</em> cold and
+bleak at Heath Hall; and the old lady whom
+Hagar had engaged as a companion, leaving the
+table and seating herself before the immense
+blazing hickory fire, declared that while her
+knees were scorching off, her back “friz.” Hagar
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_153'>153</span>at first thought of disposing of some of her
+most salable property—these were her piano and
+harp; they might be sold in the neighborhood at
+about a tenth of their value; but how long
+would the money hold out in supplying the necessities
+of her family? and what was to be done
+when it was gone? Hagar next wondered if
+there were nothing she could herself do for a
+living; but she was forced to reject every plan
+that presented itself. Was it needle-work?
+How should <em>she</em> live by her needle, who had not
+sufficient knowledge of that branch of industry
+to serve her in making and repairing her own
+wardrobe? Teaching? Ah! that was even
+<em>worse</em>. If to live by needle-work was difficult,
+to live by teaching was impossible. Hagar’s
+intellect was like her own favorite forest haunts,
+strong, vigorous, and brilliant, but wild, tangled,
+and uncultivated. She had especially laughed
+Lindley Murray’s grammar out of countenance,
+asserting that she could never comprehend it, and
+as for arithmetic, she refused to <em>try</em>—so that in
+these two highly “important branches of a good
+English education,” Hagar was wofully deficient,
+but far too honest to attempt to teach what she
+did not know. Still her thoughts recurred to
+her piano and harp, and it was while thinking
+of their sale that it occurred to her that she was
+in possession of one splendid and unemployed
+talent—and the sudden thought sent a thrill of
+joy through her heart, as she blessed God for
+the gift and for the present inspiration.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She recollected hearing Raymond often say
+that her voice was admirably suited for concert
+practice—that he had heard all the celebrated
+singers of the day, and had never heard a voice
+or an execution like hers. She recollected to
+have heard that professional singers frequently
+made large fortunes. She remembered also
+hearing that several of these <em>artistes</em> were deeply
+respected for the virtue and even for the piety of
+their private lives. There was nothing in Hagar’s
+pride to prevent her from embracing this
+career—her pride was strictly <em>personal</em>. She
+could not have been proud of her descent, of
+wealth, had she possessed it, of social position,
+or of any other external circumstance whatever—but
+she was proud of herself, that self that
+came alone into the world, and would go alone
+out of it. Hagar quickly decided upon her
+course. She was not one to renounce all the
+comforts, refinements, and elegances of life that
+had grown into a habit and a necessity, without
+an effort to retain them, and which she must
+resign without this or some equally lucrative
+plan of life. To this career she was drawn by
+her peculiar taste and genius; this would give
+her an opportunity of seeing that “world” so
+attractive to her eager and inquiring mind, and
+hitherto so completely hidden from her. In five
+minutes from the first inspiration of the idea,
+Hagar had laid out and matured all her plans.
+She determined, on her own responsibility, to
+have a sale and dispose of all her personal
+property that could be got rid of at any price,
+and with the proceeds to take her children and
+remove to Washington or Baltimore, and in one
+or the other of those cities to employ her musical
+talent in the most profitable manner. While
+thinking over these matters, and before rising
+from the table, she was startled by a rap at the
+door, apparently given with the butt-end of a
+riding-whip. To her quick “Come in!” Gusty
+May opened the door, looking half savage in his
+shaggy, white, box greatcoat, leather leggings,
+and foraging cap, and carrying in his hands a
+brace of canvas-back ducks. This was the
+first time he had been at the Hall since his
+banishment thence. She started up gladly to
+welcome him.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Good morning, Hagar! may I come in?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, yes, dear Gusty!—I am so delighted to
+see you!” exclaimed she, with brightening eyes,
+extending both hands to him.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Humph!—sight of me is good for sore eyes,
+ain’t it?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, indeed, Gusty, my best friend, why
+have not you been to see me all this dismal long
+time?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why have not I been to see you?—come,
+that will do. What did you tell me the last
+time I was over here!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“True! I recollect—I told you not to come
+again, unless you came with your mother, and I
+was right, Gusty; it was proper, both for <em>your</em>
+sake and for mine that this should be so; only
+just now, Gusty, surprised and pleased at seeing
+you, I forgot myself for an instant.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes! well! I came over here this morning,
+and took the liberty, Hagar, of shooting a pair
+of ducks on your moor. The bishop has come
+down to confirm at the church next Sunday, to-morrow,
+you know, and I thought that I would
+like to carry mother a pair of ducks to help out
+with the dinner, as the old bishop is very fond
+of our canvas-back ducks, and so, Hagar, having
+bagged my game, I could not pass the Hall
+like a poacher, without looking in.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I am glad to see you, Gusty, notwithstanding
+all that I have said—do not I look so?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! yes, dear Hagar,” said Gusty, now for
+the first time seating himself in a chair near the
+fire, and setting his hat upon one side, and the
+pair of ducks on the other.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“We caught—at least Tarquinius did—a fine
+drum yesterday evening; it is more than we shall
+use in a week, won’t you take half of it over to
+the cottage, Gusty?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty mused a moment, and then replied—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No! I be hanged if I do, Hagar! You are
+very good, and <em>I</em> thank you, but the inmates of
+Grove Cottage have used you too badly, Hagar!
+God forgive me for remembering and repeating
+it; but they have not deserved the slightest favor
+from your hands, Hagar!—I do not know how
+you can forgive them!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“See here, Gusty!” said she, laying her small
+hand affectionately on his arm, “they acted as
+their nature made it necessary for them to act,
+and their conduct does not grieve or anger me
+in the least; perhaps it inspires some contempt—but
+no, I take that back, for your sake, Gusty,
+and I assure you that their treatment gives me no
+pain. It is only those whom I love that possess
+any power over me, to torture me! if <em>you</em>,
+Gusty, had turned rascal on my hands, that circumstance
+would have caused me some suffering—but
+people I care little about! nonsense!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“It is <em>my mother</em>, though!” said Gusty, with
+a look of deep distress.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, it is <em>your mother</em>, poor boy! Never
+mind, Gusty, take heart; she <em>is</em> an excellent woman
+for all; and not the less so because she
+cannot comprehend <em>me</em>!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_154'>154</span>“Don’t let us talk any more about it, please!”
+said Gusty, with a look of deep humiliation.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>After a few minutes Gusty arose to go, saying,
+in an imploring voice, as he put on his hat
+and took up his ducks—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hagar, if I can <em>ever</em> be of any sort of service
+to you, for the Lord in Heaven’s sake, <em>do</em>
+let me know, will you?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar mused a moment, and then replied—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You <em>can</em> be of great service to me, Gusty!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Ah! can I? Tell me how? where?
+when?” exclaimed Gusty, gladly, dropping his
+ducks, doffing his hat, and reseating himself.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Not now, this is Saturday; come over and spend
+Monday evening with me, and I will tell you.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Thank you, Hagar, thank you for this mark
+of confidence. I will certainly come. Good-by,
+dear Hagar.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He caught her hand, shook it heartily, and
+left the house. Even that day Hagar employed
+with the preliminaries of her preparations.
+Gusty May was faithful to his appointment, and
+Monday afternoon found him at Heath Hall.
+Hagar’s tea-table was waiting, and the old lady,
+her companion, was with her. She invited
+Gusty to take a seat at the board, and immediately
+after tea, when they had turned their chairs
+to the fire, and the old woman had left the
+room to put the children to bed, Hagar imparted
+her plan of public singing to Gusty. He was
+surprised, even to astonishment. Not understanding
+the nature of Hagar’s pride, he had
+deemed her <em>too</em> proud for this career, and even
+ventured to hint that such had been his impression.
+Hagar smilingly disabused him of this
+erroneous idea; and then he hastened to say
+that as far as he himself was concerned he
+heartily approved of her plan, and pledged himself
+to do everything in his power to promote
+her object. The assistance she required from
+him was very slight, being only to act as her
+agent in the sale of several articles of her property.
+She requested him also not to reveal to
+any one her purpose in leaving the neighborhood.
+“Not that I care a great deal about it,
+Gusty, though I do not wish for ever to be on
+the lips of the gossips of Churchill’s Point, but,
+because,” said she, smiling archly, “it will be
+such a charity to afford Mrs. Gardiner Green
+and her <em>clique</em> a subject of speculation, that will
+keep their tongues for some time off some poor
+unfortunate, who might otherwise have been
+their next victim, and also, because this racking
+and unsatisfied curiosity will be such a well
+merited punishment of their slandering propensities!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty freely promised that he would not betray
+her confidence, and soon after took his
+leave. In a fortnight from this time, Hagar’s
+preparations were all complete. It was a glorious
+day in October, when, with her three children,
+she stepped aboard a packet bound up the
+bay to the mouth of the Potomac River and to
+Washington City. She had left Heath Hall as
+she had found it—namely, in the care of Cumbo
+and Tarquinius. She had not engaged a nurse
+or a waiting maid in the country, because she
+wished to cut off for the present all trace of her
+course, and to sink for at least a year or two to
+come, her old in her new existence. After mature
+deliberation she decided that Washington
+and Baltimore were both too near home for the
+commencement of her professional labors. An
+invincible repugnance kept her from the North,
+where she had taken her first lessons in suffering.
+Merely staying long enough in Washington to
+procure a nurse and a travelling maid, she
+turned her steps southward. It was under a
+<i><span lang="fr">nom de guerre</span></i> that Hagar Withers commenced
+her brilliant professional career at New
+Orleans in the year 182-. Every one who lived in
+that city at that time remembers the splendid concerts
+of Mrs. ——, a lady as remarkable for the
+stern asceticism of her private manners as for
+the brilliant success of her public career. Hagar’s
+greatest motive in entering upon this profession
+had been to achieve by the only means in her
+power an independence, and she had made a
+stern resolution of reserve, self-denial, and solitude,
+as the only way of preserving her from
+falling into her besetting sins of wildness and
+reckless gaiety, and towards which everything in
+her present life would conspire to draw her.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Once or twice before taking the final step that
+was to place her so conspicuously before the
+world, while doubtful of the light in which her
+extremely fastidious husband might look upon
+this when it came to his knowledge, and while
+an instinct of <em>family</em> pride, a rare thing with
+Hagar, prompted her, she thought, that she
+would do better to become a private teacher of
+music; but the idea was so repulsive that she
+quickly shrank from it. Her <em>personal</em> pride, her
+independence, would suffer too much in this latter
+position. Her prejudices, the very few with
+which her mind was trammelled, were all
+against the profession; and that circumstance,
+taken with her unprotected condition, and the
+experience she had gained by the gossipping propensities
+of her old neighbors at Churchill’s
+Point, had fixed her firmly in the resolution she
+had formed, namely, of isolating herself with
+her young family during the hours not devoted
+to her public professional duties. Her winter at
+New Orleans was one chain of splendid successes,
+each more brilliant than the last. In the
+spring of 182-, she, still accompanied by her
+babies as a guard of cherubim, sailed from New
+Orleans for Havre, intending to make a professional
+tour of Europe for one year before returning
+to her native country.</p>
+
+<hr class='c013'>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Mother!” said Gusty May to Mrs. Buncombe,
+as they sat together in the parlor at
+Grove Cottage, a few days after Hagar’s departure
+from Heath Hall, “what do the good folks
+about here say of Hagar now?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“All that I have heard speak upon the subject,
+say that they are very glad she is gone to her
+husband—<em>if he can receive her</em>. And I am
+glad also. It has been a grief to me to absent
+myself from Hagar; but, really, you know,
+Gusty, she had cost me already too much, in
+your misfortunes.—I could not risk compromising
+my own position by her.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“It was not her fault, mother. But I am
+thinking of the wonderful charity of the folks in
+putting such a kind construction upon Hagar’s
+journey; strange they had not thought of accusing
+her of eloping with the captain of the packet
+in which she sailed! ’Pon honor, I shall
+begin to have some hope for the people of
+Churchill’s Point yet!” said Gusty, really surprised
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_155'>155</span>at the explanation they had given of her
+journey.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hagar has given room for talk by getting
+into an anomalous position; why <em>should</em> people
+find themselves in inconceivable situations? <em>I</em>
+never did, yet I was an unprotected girl.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty looked at her in grave perplexity,
+divided between his wish to defend Hagar and
+his reverence for her; at last he said, smiling
+sadly—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Dear mother, Lewis Stephens, poor fellow!
+was drowned last summer, in a gale of wind!—Now,
+why <em>should</em> people be drowned in a gale
+of wind? <em>I</em> never was, and <em>I</em> have been in a
+gale of wind!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Gusty, <em>hush</em>! you talk like—like a young
+man.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And if I am to talk differently, I hope to
+God I may never live to be an old one.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I deserve this from you, Gusty!” said his
+mother, with the tears welling up to her eyes.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty’s arms were around her neck in a moment.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Dear mother, forgive me! I meant no disrespect
+to you, indeed; but it is <em>so</em> trying to see
+one of your excellent heart, so uncompromising
+to Hagar, for whom I have, God knows, a
+higher respect, deeper esteem, than for the whole
+world besides.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>While they were conversing thus, the door
+opened, and Mr. Buncombe entered the parlor, and
+throwing a letter into his wife’s hand, exclaimed—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, here is the long-looked-for come at
+last!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>It was a letter bearing a foreign stamp, and
+directed in the hand of Captain Wilde. Emily
+opened it hastily. Soon as she read, her face
+grew pale in consternation.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What is it, mother?” asked Gusty, approaching
+her.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What is it, dear Emily?” inquired her husband,
+leaning over her chair.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I hardly know myself; oh, heaven!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Read it! tell us!” cried Gusty.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No one ill, I hope?” whispered the parson.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Rosalia is lost!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<span class='sc'>Lost!</span>” exclaimed Mr. Buncombe, in astonishment.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty sank upon a chair, his cheek turning
+white as death.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Lost! fled!” gasped Emily, still gazing on
+the sheet before her; “fled no one knows
+wherefore or whither!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Inexplicable!” cried Mr. Buncombe.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty was devouring his mother’s face with
+his great eyes.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Fled</em>, did you say—say <em>fled</em>, mother?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<span class='sc'>Fled</span>, Gusty!” sobbed Emily, “fled, my
+poor, dear, unfortunate boy!—<em>fled</em>—fled from
+the protection of Mr. Withers the very afternoon
+of their landing at Genoa!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty jerked the letter out of his mother’s
+hand impulsively, and forgetting to apologize,
+ran up stairs with it, while Mr. Buncombe set
+himself to soothe and comfort Emily, and to win
+from her an account of the flight of Rosalia,
+with which the reader is already acquainted.
+Both were thrown into the utmost consternation
+by the news. To them it was a mystery of rayless
+darkness, for so far from having cast any
+light upon the subject of the flight it had announced,
+Captain Wilde’s letter expressed a
+faint hope that Emily might possess some clue
+to the fate of her adopted daughter.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>At last Emily thought of Gusty, and was preparing
+to go and try to soothe the anguish she
+believed he must be suffering, when the door
+was suddenly thrown open, and Gusty ran in
+with his countenance and manner highly excited
+as by a strange joy, exclaiming, screaming, as he
+waved the letter in circles above his head—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hip! hip! hur-ra-a-a-a-a-a, mother! three
+times three now, mother! and special thanksgiving
+next Sunday, for this good, this great, this
+glorious news! Hurrah!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Good News!</em> oh, my God, he is mad!” exclaimed
+Emily in extreme terror; “hold him,
+Buncombe!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, hold him, Buncombe! hold him, Buncombe!
+lest in his joy he bound like a cannon
+ball through the roof of the house! Hold him,
+Buncombe!” yelled Gusty, jumping into the
+arms of the reverend gentleman, seizing him
+about the waist, and whirling him round and
+round the room in a brisk gallopading waltz!
+Shriek after shriek burst from Emily’s terrified
+bosom, and brought all the household (being
+Kitty and a horse-boy) running into the room,
+just as Gusty had dropped the startled parson,
+and was standing panting with exertion, weeping
+for joy, and laughing for fun at the same time.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Take him into custody! secure him! before
+he hurts himself or somebody else!” exclaimed
+Emily, palpitating.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Take <em>who</em> into custody?” exclaimed Gusty,
+looking round, “what’s done?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, heaven! will nobody bind him?”
+sobbed Emily, edging towards her son, cautiously.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty caught her to his bosom, and kissed her
+heartily, as he stooped and whispered breathlessly,
+his brain sobered a little by the alarm he
+had caused, but his heart still wildly throbbing
+with ecstatic joy—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Mother!</em> pshaw—<em>you</em> know me! I’ll—I’ll—perhaps
+I’ll tell you why I’m overjoyed just
+presently; send all these gapers and starers
+away, and go and reassure his reverence, who,
+not being a fighting man, is bolstering himself
+up against the wall, not knowing what I am
+going to do next; there, <em>do</em>, mother! my blood
+is so unmanageable, it is getting up again! yes,
+here it comes! it’s going to boil over! I declare
+it is! I can’t help it! get out of my way!
+I won’t hurt anybody! hip! hip! hurrah!” and
+with that he bounded forward into the air, cut
+four or five capers more extravagant than the
+others, and ran from the room, leaving the assembled
+family dumb with astonishment.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Having reached his own room, Gusty began to
+empty his drawers, wardrobe, &#38;c., and to pack
+his clothing into a sea chest with great haste and
+zeal. While he was employed in this manner
+his mother came in, and tearfully sat down by
+him; seeing his occupation, a deeper shade of
+perplexity and anxiety came over her countenance,
+as she inquired:—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And what are you trying to do now, my
+poor, deluded boy?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty took his hand out of his chest, and
+still resting upon one knee, assumed a look of
+profound composure, thinking doubtless that by
+this time his character for sanity was in serious
+danger, and replied,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_156'>156</span>“Ahem! hem! Mother, as it is now near
+the opening of the session of Congress, and
+many of my own and my uncle’s professional
+and political friends are in Washington City, I
+think of going thither, and while they are on
+the spot, getting them to use their influence with
+the President to procure my reinstatement. You
+know, mother, this is the first good chance, because
+personal solicitation is so much more
+powerful than epistolary application.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Struck with the rationality of this reply, Emily
+was a little staggered in her opinion of his madness:
+however, she would try him further.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But this is a very sudden resolution, Gusty!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! I had been thinking of it for some days
+past, and the arrival of uncle’s letter, and the
+reminiscences of our naval life that it awakened,
+you know, suddenly inspired me with a strong
+desire to return to it—wasn’t that natural?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, yes! and I am glad! I had feared
+that you would have held to your resolution,
+never to apply for reinstatement.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Ah! that resolution was one of my hasty
+impulses, mother! times and <em>motives</em> have changed
+since then!” exclaimed Gusty, and he resumed
+his packing with renewed zeal.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But why pack your sea chest, Gusty?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why, mother, if I am reinstated, as I shall
+be, for my case is very strong, and the Hon.
+Chevy Chase, of New York, who lives near
+the Rialto, the scenes of my labors and sorrows,
+knows all about it, and is a friend of the
+President—if I am reinstated, of course, as usual,
+I shall immediately be ordered on active service,
+and shall need to be all ready.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Nonsense, Gusty! take a change of linen in
+your valise, and go to Washington. I will
+prepare and pack your wardrobe and send it to
+you in a day or two, or as soon as you want it.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes! that will be better! thank you, mother!”
+said Gusty, rising and seating himself on
+his trunk.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And Rosalia!” sighed Emily, looking in his
+face, “what can have become of her, and how
+do you feel about her, Gusty?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty mused. He felt glad that he had never
+breathed to his mother a word of the elopement
+he had suspected; and now that its object had
+been defeated by Rosalia’s flight, he could not
+bring himself to mention it. He felt very little
+fear of Rosalia’s fate <em>now</em>. Her unexpected deliverance
+from evil at the last moment greatly
+strengthened his faith in her guardian angel, and
+Gusty had a great deal of faith, as we have seen.
+That Rosalia was somewhere in safety, and
+that she would make her retreat known as soon
+as she should hear of the arrival of any of her
+friends at Genoa, he fully believed; and it was
+his determination, in case of his being reinstated,
+to solicit orders on the Mediterranean service,
+and in any other case, to go out privateering in
+a search for the lost girl.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, Gusty, what are you thinking of?”
+asked Emily at last.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I am thinking, mother, that Rosalia is <em>safe</em>,
+and that we shall soon <em>hear</em> that she is so!”
+said he.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The next morning Gusty May set out for
+Washington City, where he arrived within the
+week. After a few weeks’ petitioning, struggling,
+and delaying—during which Gusty’s hopes
+fell and anger rose a dozen times at least—and
+during which his friends persevered while his
+own patience gave out—at “long last,” Gusty
+May was duly authorized to mount the anchor
+and eagle buttons and epaulette, and empowered
+to write himself down, Lieut. Aug. W. May, U.
+S. N. He ran down to Churchill’s Point to
+hug and kiss his mother upon this good news,
+and to get his chest, for he was ordered to join
+his old ship, the Rainbow, about to sail from
+Boston for the Mediterranean.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Within the month, Gusty was “Once more
+upon the waters.”</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XLI.<br> <span class='c009'>CONSTANTINOPLE.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“Once more upon the waters! yet once more,</div>
+      <div class='line'>And the waves bound beneath me as a steed</div>
+      <div class='line'>That knows its rider.”</div>
+      <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>Childe Harold.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>The good ship Rainbow weighed anchor on
+the 1st of January, and bore away from Boston
+harbor before a fair wind. The voyage across
+the Atlantic ocean was rather tempestuous, but
+in due time the vessel passed through the Straits
+of Gibraltar, and entered the Mediterranean,
+where she continued to cruise for some months,
+stopping at almost every other port but that
+Gusty May was so anxious to enter, namely,
+Genoa. Gusty had deluded himself with the
+fond idea that once in the Mediterranean he
+must come upon Rosalia Aguilar <em>somewhere</em>.
+He had written to Captain Wilde, and had also
+swallowed his rage and compelled himself to
+write to Raymond Withers. He had not received
+a line in reply from either of them up to
+the 1st of April, at which time his ship was
+ordered to Constantinople. On the 15th of
+April they entered the Archipelago, on the 25th
+passed through the straits of the Dardanelles,
+and on the 1st of May entered the straits of
+Constantinople, and anchored among a thousand
+other ships of all nations before the City of
+Mosques and of the Sultan.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He inquired and found that Captain Wilde’s
+ship, the Cornucopia, was still there, though expected
+to sail in a few weeks.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>As soon as he could obtain leave of absence,
+he hastened in search of it. The ship lay opposite
+the lower part of the city. He found it and
+hurried on board. Captain Wilde was on deck,
+and hastened to receive his nephew—they met—clasped
+each other in a warm, fraternal embrace,
+and <em>both</em> exclaimed, in <em>one voice</em>,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Rosalia! have you heard from Rosalia?”
+and each looked blankly and sadly at the other,
+as he murmured,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No—I was in hopes that <em>you</em> could have
+given me news of her,” and then the final answer
+was simultaneously spoken by both,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Ah, <em>no</em>! all inquiries have been fruitless.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“How is my sister Emily?” asked Captain
+Wilde.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well in health; but dreadfully anxious
+about Rosalia, of course, as we all are,” replied
+Gusty, with a deep sigh, “and Sophie—how is
+Sophie?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Not well—indeed very far from it; the
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_157'>157</span>sudden news of Rosalia’s flight, or abduction,
+for we do not know which to suppose it, threw
+her into a fit of illness, from which she has
+never fully recovered?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Poor, dear Sophie—where is she now?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Here on board the ship with me.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<span class='sc'>Here!</span> has she lived here all the time?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Certainly.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And through her long illness?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes—do you not know that the Turkish
+Government will not permit a foreigner to reside
+in the city?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And is there no exception to this rigid exclusion?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“None, even in favor of ministers of friendly
+nations; <em>they</em> are not permitted to reside within
+the walls of the city.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And Sophie is here—introduce me to her.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Wait, my dear Gusty, a few minutes; I
+must prepare her for your visit,” and so saying,
+Captain Wilde went down into the cabin, whence
+he returned in a few minutes, saying,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Come, Gusty! Sophie expects you, and she
+has a strange story for your ear also.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty followed his uncle down the gangway
+into a large cabin, fitted up in the most luxurious
+style. The berth or sleeping apartment, at
+the upper end, opposite the entrance or gangway,
+was concealed by curtains of purple velvet,
+fringed with gold, and festooned with golden
+cord. The side walls were wainscoted with
+mahogany, and the floor covered with a Turkey
+carpet, of colors so brilliant and life-like, and
+texture so yielding, that you seemed to be stepping
+upon flowers. In the centre of the cabin
+stood a rose-wood table made fast to its place,
+and above it hung a splendid chandelier of cut
+glass and gold. Ottomans covered with purple
+velvet and fringed with gold, like the curtains,
+were ranged around the walls upon the carpet.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>A beautiful spring-bottomed sofa, whose upper
+cushions were of down, covered also with purple
+velvet to match the other hangings, was placed
+against the walls on the left hand as you entered,
+and facing it upon the opposite side, hung a large
+cheval mirror. About upon the walls hung
+several rare oil paintings in rich frames, and the
+rose-wood table was littered with books.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“This is Sophie’s own particular retreat,” said
+Captain Wilde, as he introduced Gusty, and
+pointed him to a seat on the sofa. In a few
+seconds the purple velvet curtains opened, and
+Sophie entered. The very same Sophie, whom
+time seemed to forget to mar. The same little
+round looking figure, in its sober dress of brown
+satin, the same little sedate head with its simply
+braided, glossy brown hair, the same soft, pale
+face with its large, tender brown eyes, the same
+pensive countenance, and gentle manners, the
+same low sweet voice, the same every way
+except—yes! there <em>is</em> a tone of deep, deep
+sorrow in her whole bearing as she approaches to
+greet Gusty, who rises and meets her more than
+half way. She offers her cheek to Gusty, who
+kisses it as he embraces her, and they look in
+each other’s face with a heart-broken expression
+of countenance, and sit down without a word
+spoken on either side! At last, trying to utter
+the name of Rosalia, Sophie chokes and bursts
+into tears, and weeps convulsively.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Ah! well—yes—this is it!” exclaimed Captain
+Wilde, sitting down and taking her in his
+arms, forgetting or disregarding the presence of
+Gusty, and muttering <i><span lang="it">sotto voce</span></i> as he soothed her,
+“I sometimes wish we could hear that this poor
+girl was dead, for then Sophie would know that
+she was in Heaven, and cease to break her heart
+about it.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie wept abundantly, and, as a fit of free
+weeping always acts, it subsided and left her
+heart clear, her mind refreshed, and her nerves
+calm—<em>temporarily</em>—just as an April shower
+leaves, <em>for the time</em>, the sky bright, and the
+earth refreshed. Then as she recovered, she
+recounted all the little she knew from Raymond
+Withers of Rosalia’s flight, and ended by reiterating
+that no news had been heard of her; nor
+the slightest clue had been found to her fate or
+her retreat.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty saw that neither Captain Wilde nor
+Sophie had the slightest suspicion of the elopement,
+well veiled as it had been; and he, on his
+part, determined not to enlighten them. On his
+inquiring when they had last heard from Raymond,
+he was informed that they had received
+but one letter from him, namely, the letter
+announcing Rosalia’s flight, but that they had
+lately heard, by a vessel direct from Genoa, that
+the American Consul was lying extremely ill of
+a brain fever, and that his life was despaired of.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Of course that is the reason he has not written
+to us,” said Sophie.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And I suppose that is why he has not replied
+to my letter, either,” observed Gusty.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Then Sophie asked her thousand and one
+questions about Emily and her family, about
+Heath Hall and its inmates, and about Hagar
+and her children. To all these questions Gusty
+gave satisfactory replies. When she inquired
+about Hagar he merely told her that she was in
+high health and beauty, and the mother of a fine
+boy, thus revealing only what was agreeable in
+the truth, without afflicting Sophie by saying one
+word of the sorrow of which it was evident that
+she had not the slightest idea. If this partial concealment
+was not in<em>genu</em>ous, it was at least
+in<em>geni</em>ous; but I am not defending Gusty.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I have something strange to tell you about
+our poor dear Rosalia, but I am not able to tell
+you to-day, Gusty,” said Sophie.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Is it about anything that has occurred since
+you parted with her?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes—and—no,” said Sophie,” but I am not
+strong enough for the task now. Come to-morrow,
+Gusty, and I will tell you—I must lie
+down now.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>And indeed she looked so languid, so much as
+if about to faint, that Gusty, mentally reproaching
+himself for having stayed so long, arose to take
+leave.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Come and dine with us to-morrow at five,
+if you can leave the ship,” said Captain Wilde.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, do Gusty,” added Sophie.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I will, certainly, with great pleasure, if I can
+get off,” replied Gusty; and raising Sophie’s pale
+and languid hand to his lips he turned and left
+the cabin, accompanied by Captain Wilde.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Come in the morning for the story, however,
+Gusty, for Sophie is too feeble to be worried
+later in the day.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The next morning as soon as he was off duty,
+Gusty hastened on board the Cornucopia. Captain
+Wilde met him as before, and telling him
+that Sophie was ready to receive him, conducted
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_158'>158</span>him into the cabin. Sophie reclined upon the
+sofa, but arose, and greeting Gusty, pointed him
+to the seat by her side. He took it, and after
+making several kind inquiries about her health,
+he awaited the revelation she had to make him—his
+interest and his curiosity whetted up to the
+keenest edge. At length she said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I suppose, Gusty, you are waiting for this
+story?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, dear Sophie, with as much <em>im</em>patience
+as I dare to feel, seeing you so feeble.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I am much stronger in the morning—well—dear
+knows, I hardly know where to commence,
+for I am no narrator. I suppose, Gusty, you
+always thought that Rosalia—poor Rose!—was
+my niece, did you not?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Of course—<em>yes</em>!</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“My sister, Rosalia Churchill’s child?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Certainly!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, she is not either the one or the other!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“How?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“She is no kin to me.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<span class='sc'>Sophie!</span>”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“It is true.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You astound me!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“So was I astounded when the fact was
+revealed to me.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Are you sure of this?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Certain of it.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Beyond a doubt?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘There is not a peg to hang a doubt upon.’”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Who is she then, in the name of Heaven?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“The daughter of my late husband, Mr.
+Withers, by his first wife—Fanny Raymond, and
+the sister of Raymond Withers!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty turned all colors, and lost his voice for
+a time; at last seeing that Sophie remained
+silent, he exclaimed—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Great God! this cannot be true!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I <em>know</em> it to be true. I have incontestable
+proof that it is true.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And does <em>he</em>—Raymond Withers, know
+this?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, I presume so.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And how long has he known it?” asked
+Gusty, with a strange joy breaking over his face.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Only since her flight.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty’s countenance fell suddenly.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Does <em>she</em> know or suspect it?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I presume not—poor child!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“How long have <em>you</em> known it?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“About eight months.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And how did you discover it?—who told
+you?—and why has the fact been kept concealed
+so long?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Stay, Gusty, it was to tell you the whole
+story that I requested your visit this morning. I
+am about to do so.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I am all attention—begin.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“In the first place, I do not wish to enter
+further upon the details of the early life of Mr.
+Withers than is absolutely necessary to make
+this story clear.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Of course not,” winced Gusty, with a countenance
+expressive of having bitten an unripe
+persimmon.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You have sometimes heard the name of
+Fanny Raymond?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes—though long</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c004'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“‘Banished from each lip and ear,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Like words of wantonness or fear;’</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c016'>—I <em>have</em> heard it—and I remember her sad
+fate.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You will understand, then, why it is unpleasant
+to me to allude to her dark story.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, of course.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Further than is positively unavoidable?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I know! I know!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Then these are the facts lately revealed to
+me by my deceased brother-in-law’s attorney—and
+this was the manner of it. We had been
+out here something like four or five months,
+when I received a packet of letters and papers
+from Mr. Linton, my late brother-in-law’s
+attorney, and my colleague in the guardianship
+of Rosalia and her little property. With
+this packet of letters came <em>one</em> letter, sealed
+and superscribed in a hand-writing, the sight
+of which made my heart leap to my throat—the
+hand-writing, in fine, of my only sister—my
+dead sister, Rosalia. In truth, it seemed
+like a missive from the grave. It was directed
+‘To Sophie Withers—care of T. Linton, attorney
+at law—to be delivered according to its address,
+on the 1st June, 182-.’ <em>That was Rosalia’s
+eighteenth birthday.</em>”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie paused. Gusty waited in breathless
+impatience. She seemed strongly disinclined
+to recommence the recital that she had abandoned
+at the very outset.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well?” at last ventured Gusty—“Well,
+Sophie?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Alas! why have I to tell this story—I do
+so revolt from it, Gusty! I walk around and
+around it, fearing to approach it!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Don’t then, Sophie,” said Gusty, with an
+effort at magnanimity, but looking very anxious.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, I shall have to tell it—and may as well
+brace myself to the task now as at any other
+time. Listen then, Gusty, and I will endeavor
+to condense the story that was revealed to me
+through some half-a-dozen long letters, and
+proved by some half a score of tedious documents.
+You remember my sister Rosalia,
+Gusty?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Like one of the glorious visions of my morning
+of life—<em>yes</em>.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, she <em>was</em> gloriously beautiful—of your
+Rosalia’s complexion and style of beauty, but
+with a sparkling vivacity, flashing like sunlight
+through every look, and tone, and gesture—Rosalia
+Churchill’s first effect upon a stranger
+was electrical. Well! soon after we were left
+alone by the death of our brother, Mr. Aguilar,
+a young merchant of Baltimore, came down to
+make or finish a large contract for tobacco, from
+Mr. Gardiner Green—he saw Rosalia at church
+on Sunday; on Monday got himself presented
+to her by Mr. Green, who brought him to the
+Hall. He came every day to see us. At the
+end of a week he returned to Baltimore, but
+came back in a few days. At last he proposed
+for Rosalia, married her, and carried her off to
+his city home. Rosalia was very young and
+very thoughtless, and perhaps her husband was a
+little selfish, and did not wish to be troubled
+by the poor country relations of his beautiful
+but penniless young wife—at least that is the
+only way in which I can account for the
+estrangement between us that followed her
+marriage. I wrote to my sister frequently, and
+at first her replies were copious, her letters filled
+with vivacious descriptions of gay city life—of
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_159'>159</span>dress, visiting and receiving company—of balls,
+plays, and concerts, &#38;c., &#38;c., &#38;c. This continued
+a few months, and then our correspondence
+began to die out. Her letters were short
+and few, and filled with apologies. I never
+remonstrated against this, because, you know,
+that is not my disposition. At last—and this
+was near the close of the second year—a longer
+interval of silence than usual followed my letter
+to her. I felt a <em>diffidence</em> in troubling her with
+two letters at a time, for I felt that she was a
+fine, fashionable lady, and just then I was almost
+a pauper.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I guess it was your quiet <em>pride</em>, Sophie.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I am no moral philosopher, and I do not
+know whether it was pride or humility that prevented
+me for some time from writing a second
+letter to her; but at last I grew so restless about
+her—I felt so interested in her domestic affairs—she
+had been married more than a year, and I
+was anxious to know whether she had a baby.
+Sometimes I thought she <em>had</em>, and that the care
+of it prevented her writing to me, so I wrote and
+asked her in so many words. Her reply came,
+after a long time. She told me she had a little
+snowy-skinned, golden-haired, sapphire-eyed girl,
+who was said to be the picture of herself. Of
+course I thought, naturally enough, that the
+child was her own. I could think nothing else.
+She had not <em>said</em> so, but could I infer anything
+else, Gusty?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Certainly not.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You see she entered into no details except
+very minute ones about the baby’s beauty, dresses,
+habits, and christening. This revived our correspondence
+for a little while—only for a little
+while—it died out, and finally ceased altogether.
+It was a year from this that I was married to
+Mr. Withers; and it was in the second year of
+my marriage that I was so unfortunate as to lose
+my only sister and her husband by the then prevailing
+epidemic. I was appointed by will,
+guardian, in conjunction with Mr. Linton, of the
+infant orphan, Rosalia, and was summoned to
+Baltimore, to receive her into my care. I went,
+and brought home the baby, Rosalia, without a
+single suspicion of who she really was. I was
+attracted to the child; I loved her, but not for
+anything of my sister that I saw in her, for there
+was really nothing. Superficial observers might
+fancy a likeness, because they both had the same
+snowy skin, tinged with a faint rose-color on
+the cheeks; the same glittering gold hair, and
+the same azure eyes; but to my searching eyes
+there was not a single look of my sister about
+her. There was a startling likeness to another—an
+unfortunate, whose strange sad fate was
+as incomprehensible to me as this child’s alarming
+resemblance of her. Still—so far was I
+from suspicion—so little given, as you know,
+Gusty, to marvellousness or romancery, that I
+considered this extraordinary likeness as mere
+fancy in me, until Mr. Withers also remarked it,
+in great agitation, and even <em>then</em>, I set it down
+as accidental. Mr. Withers grew very fond of
+her, and she of him. She was the only one
+who could subdue the tiger in his heart during
+his fits of phrensy. You know we brought her
+up as our niece, and loved her so much that had
+we heard that she was the child of the bitterest
+enemy in the world, we could not have loved her
+less. The panic caused by the extraordinary
+likeness passed away with years, because, in
+fact, as she grew up this resemblance declined,
+and her air and manner became assimilated to
+mine, so much so that people saw, even through
+the marked difference of complexion—what they
+called ‘a family likeness’ between two of no kin.
+Children <em>do</em> thus grow to resemble those who
+bring them up—in case they love them. I believed
+her to be my niece, and only regretted that
+she had not been my daughter. You may judge,
+then, with what surprise I received this packet
+of papers from my coadjutor, Mr. Linton, accompanied
+by his own letter—shall I read it to
+you, or tell you of its contents?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Is it long?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, tell me.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well then, listen; it appears that a few
+days before the death of Mr. Aguilar, he sent
+for his lawyer, T. Linton, and requested him to
+draw up a will, in which he left the remnant of
+his wrecked property to his wife Rosalia. Within
+a fortnight after the funeral of her husband,
+my sister was struck down by the epidemic to
+which he had fallen a victim. On the day previous
+to her decease she requested an interview
+with Mr. Linton. He obeyed her summons, and
+at her desire, drew up a second will, by which
+she bequeathed to <em>her daughter, Rosalia Aguilar</em>,
+all the property so lately devised to herself.
+She signed this will, and returning it to him,
+requested him to keep it <em>for exhibition to her relatives</em>,
+and to draw her up a copy, substituting
+the name of <em>Rosalia Aguilar Withers</em>, and to
+keep this in reserve, for, said she,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘The <em>first</em> will, will not give her any
+right to the bequest, because she is not my
+daughter.’</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘Then why say so in the first will?’ inquired
+the lawyer.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘Because I do not wish to send the orphan,
+<em>orphaned</em> into the world. As my own child,
+my relatives will naturally receive Rosalia with
+affection—the <em>prestige</em> of family will be about
+her. As my adopted daughter, they may possibly
+look upon her with aversion as an interloper,
+who has deprived them of an inheritance. I do
+not say that it <em>will</em> be so, but I <em>do</em> say that this
+is so natural, so human a possibility, that I do
+not wish to risk it. I wish to cover my baby,
+my child; she <em>is</em> my child in affection, if not in
+love—I wish, I say, to shelter her with <em>love</em>
+during the years of her infancy and childhood,
+and during these years you must only produce
+the <em>first</em> will, unless the discovery of her real
+parentage makes it necessary to produce the
+second, which will secure to her the property
+under <em>all</em> circumstances. I have prepared a
+letter, in which I have given the history of my
+adoption of Rosalia Withers, and which I shall
+confide to you, to be delivered to my sister on
+Rosalia’s eighteenth birth day, or before, if unexpected
+circumstances should make it proper to
+do so.’ Well, she intrusted him with both wills,
+the real and ostensible one, and with the letter
+explanatory of the whole matter. Gusty, I am
+exhausted; shall I give you the letter to read,
+while I take a little repose?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty looked at Sophie—she was pale and
+trembling with nervous exhaustion.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! I am a brute! a brute! not to have
+noticed your fatigue; but I was so interested in
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_160'>160</span>Rosalia—give me the letter, Sophie, and lie
+down.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“It will tell you all that you wish to know,
+Gusty,” said she, rising, and handing him the
+letter.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He received it, and left the cabin, saying to
+himself, “Sophie is not so strong to endure as
+she was—her heart is breaking under reiterated
+blows.” Passing Captain Wilde, and promising
+to be back to dinner, Gusty hastened to his own
+ship, and retired to read his letter, which, with
+its revelations, reader, shall be reserved for the
+next chapter.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XLII.<br> <span class='c009'>THE LETTER.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“Oh, what a tangled web we weave</div>
+      <div class='line'>When first we practise to deceive.”</div>
+      <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>Scott.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>Gusty found himself in his own “caboose,”
+and opened the letter. Its contents were as
+follows:</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>From Rosalia Aguilar to Sophie Withers.</p>
+
+<p class='c014'>“<span class='sc'>My Dear and Only Sister</span>:—Long before your
+eye follows these lines, the hand that now traces them
+will have moulded into dust. I write now propped up
+in bed, and my pen drops from my hand, and my hand
+falls from the paper every instant—ah! how difficult to
+write with the life in my bosom palpitating, sinking, fluttering
+into death! yet I must write. There is a secret that
+I must leave revealed for you, although for awhile it will
+yet be kept from you. Hear my confession. There is
+a little child whom never having seen, you yet love
+from my description, and from her supposed relationship
+to you. And you must, for years to come, still believe
+in her kindred claim. That little girl is no child of
+mine—no relative of yours. Listen! this is her history.</p>
+
+<p class='c017'>“From the first year of my married life, I wished
+above all things for a child—but when, in the passage
+of time, I knew that Heaven had written me childless, I
+wished to <em>adopt</em> an infant—one without parents, friends,
+or relatives—an orphan from its very birth, whom I
+would make all my own—whom I could pass, not only
+upon the world, but upon my relatives, as my own; for
+I was morbidly sensitive upon the subject of my childlessness,
+and felt my misfortune to be a mortification of
+which I wish to keep even you ignorant. (Now, if I
+continue to keep even you in ignorance, it is from a less
+selfish motive, namely, the welfare of my adopted
+daughter.)</p>
+
+<p class='c017'>“Well, Sophie! such a child as I wished to find was
+not so easily to be discovered; but the more difficult
+the attainment, the more desirable was the object. I
+brooded over the plan continually. I used to drive in
+my carriage to alms-houses, orphan asylums, &#38;c., and
+became a sort of amateur baby-fancier; only I never
+saw a baby that struck my fancy. I never betrayed
+even to the matrons of these institutions my secret purpose
+in visiting them so frequently. I thought it was
+quite time enough to make known my wishes when
+their object, namely an eligible child for adoption, should
+be found. I was in the habit of visiting these asylums
+at least once a fortnight, and I got the name of being
+very charitable, for I had to give alms to account for
+my visits. I grew quite into the confidence of the
+matrons and directors, although, living as I did, quite at
+the opposite end of the city, they knew nothing of me
+beyond my ‘charities,’ as they called them. One day,
+however, the matron of the almshouse met me at the
+door, and conducting me into the parlor, told me that
+she had a singular circumstance to reveal, and then
+gave me the following particulars. ‘That late on the
+preceding night, a woman had been seen wandering
+bare-footed, and with wild eyes, streaming hair,
+tattered dress, and frantic manners, through the streets
+of the city. When accosted by passengers she would
+answer wildly, or turn and flee. At last, that morning,
+she was brought before a magistrate, who, seeing her
+lunacy, had her sent to this asylum.’</p>
+
+<p class='c017'>“‘She was brought here about eleven o’clock,’ continued
+the matron; ‘she is a very remarkable looking
+young person, and I should think within a very
+few days of her confinement. Will you see her?’ I
+assented, and followed the matron to the ward in which
+the stranger was placed. We entered a small room
+apart, and there I saw such a wreck of a human being!
+an extremely emaciated figure sitting doubled up on the
+foot of the low bed—from her thin limbs hung tattered
+raiment, bearing the marks and stains of much travel
+and exposure. Her elbows rested on her knees, and her
+talon-like hands supported her wan, white face, which
+formed a death-like contrast to the brilliant hair of
+mingled gold and silver threads that streamed down
+each side. Her eyes were strained out straight before
+her, but fell as she saw us. She was now enjoying—no,
+not enjoying, suffering a lucid interval. I saw it in
+the set despair—the too rational despair of those terrible
+eyes. I felt strongly and most painfully interested in
+her—I fully believed her to be one of the too numerous
+victims of trust and perfidy. I wished to talk to her—to
+learn, if possible, something of her history—to do, if
+possible, something to alleviate her sufferings. I could
+not, somehow, bring myself to speak to her confidentially
+in the presence of the matron. I fancied that if I
+were left alone with the poor stranger, I might win
+some information from her, and learn if I could in any
+manner ameliorate her condition. I requested the
+matron aside, to withdraw for a few minutes, to give me
+this opportunity. She did so, and I went after her,
+closed the door behind her and returned, drew the only
+chair in the room to the side of the bed, and sat down
+in it very near her. She was sitting in the same attitude—her
+side face was towards me—she did not notice
+me.</p>
+
+<p class='c017'>“‘I am very sorry to see you looking so unhappy,’
+said I, softly as I could speak, and watching her face
+steadily.</p>
+
+<p class='c017'>“She did not reply, but I saw the blue lips spring
+quivering apart, and the white teeth glisten between
+them.</p>
+
+<p class='c017'>“‘Are you married?’ inquired I, after a long, painful
+pause.</p>
+
+<p class='c017'>“I immediately regretted my indiscreet question
+when I saw her turn her gaze haughtily upon me,
+while something like scorn kindled on her cheeks,
+writhed on her lips, flashed from her eyes, as she answered,
+in a low and measured tone,</p>
+
+<p class='c017'>“‘Do you not <em>perceive</em> that I am married?’</p>
+
+<p class='c017'>“I felt humbled—like a repulsed intruder—still I did
+wish so much to benefit her that I ventured again.</p>
+
+<p class='c017'>“‘Can I do anything for you?’</p>
+
+<p class='c017'>“‘Yes!’</p>
+
+<p class='c017'>“‘Tell me what?’</p>
+
+<p class='c017'>“‘You can leave the room!’</p>
+
+<p class='c017'>“‘I will do so,’ said I, ‘certainly, as I do not wish,
+upon any account to add to your discomfort,’ and rising,
+I left the chamber.</p>
+
+<p class='c017'>“The matron met me in the gallery, and in commenting
+upon my account of my interview, she informed
+me that no one had been able to gain the
+slightest intelligence of her past life, her friends, or her
+condition, from her.</p>
+
+<p class='c017'>“I felt distressingly concerned for this woman. I
+drove over every day to see her. She became accustomed
+to my visits—somewhat reconciled to me—though
+her moods were variable; sometimes bitter and sullen,
+as I had found her in my first interview; sometimes
+so wild and frantic as to make restraint necessary;
+sometimes she was calm and rational. For several
+days I made no further effort to elicit from her the
+story of her sins, wrongs, or misfortunes. It was evident
+from every lineament of her classic face and form,
+beautiful even in their extreme emaciation, and from
+every tone and gesture in her voice and manner—free
+from coarseness even in her sullenest or fiercest mood—that
+she was a woman of high breeding—that she had
+fallen from a lofty place.</p>
+
+<p class='c017'>“But it was not until my pity for the poor creature
+was changing into love, and she saw it, that I could get
+her to take anything from me, or accept any, even the
+most delicate, personal service.</p>
+
+<p class='c017'>“‘No,’ she would say, with a sardonic smile, ‘I will
+accept nothing; I have a right to my place in this almshouse,
+because I have helped to build and support these
+institutions.’</p>
+
+<p class='c017'>“Pity is allied to love on the one hand, and to contempt
+on the other; and in proportion as it approaches
+love, it recedes from contempt. When she saw that
+the arrogant and offensive element in my pity was
+gone, she began to grow a little more grateful for the
+care I was bestowing upon her. Once she said to me,
+in one of her few lucid intervals—</p>
+
+<p class='c017'><span class='pageno' id='Page_161'>161</span>“‘For months I have been a wanderer on the face of
+the earth; for months I have never slept under a roof,
+or eaten anything cooked—the forest has been my home—its
+bed of grass or under-growth my couch, its foliage
+my curtains, the overhanging sky has been my roof, and
+its millions of stars my lights: nuts and wild berries
+my food, water my drink, and the side of some brook
+my dining-room. I had fled from the cold pity and the
+colder alms of society to wild nature, the rough but
+honest mother. And it was the coming on of winter,
+severe winter, and the approach of the period of my
+accouchement, that drove me again into the haunts of
+civilization for assistance.’</p>
+
+<p class='c017'>“The ‘mind and heart diseased’ might be detected
+in her most lucid conversation. She was not one to
+reason with—I could only love her into calmness and
+sanity. I brought over some of my own clothing, and
+after soothing, coaxing, and caressing, administered with
+the most delicate tact of which I was capable (for it
+was dangerous to let her think that I considered her a
+child, or a fool who was to be wheedled), I prevailed on
+her to take a bath, have her hair combed, and put on
+comfortable clothing. It was a light blue, soft, warm,
+French merino that I had brought her, and she looked
+so beautiful after I had dressed her, that then I first
+conceived the idea of bringing her home to my house.
+It was almost a selfish feeling in me—she would occupy
+and interest me—nay, she had done so to the extent of
+exorcising my familiar demon, ennui. Mr. Aguilar had
+sailed for Liverpool, on mercantile business, a few weeks
+previous—it was too late to consult him—I thought I
+would take this poor forlornity home, and ask his permission
+when he returned. Fearful of alarming her
+morbid pride, and her hatred of dependence, I did not
+name my project to her then, but returned home full of
+it. I went busily to work and prepared a chamber next
+to my own—I was so happy and interested in fitting it
+up—I said to myself, as I superintended the arrangement
+of the furniture, ‘Her emaciated and wearied
+limbs will repose so nicely on this white, clean, downy
+bed; she will sit so nicely in this deep, soft chair,’ and
+my own heart filled with a sort of delicious emotion,
+that flowed through every vein, breathing through
+every pore, dilating as a sponge filling with water, or a
+child growing as it sleeps. I became deeply interested
+in preparing baby-linen, just as if it were for myself.
+‘Come,’ said I to myself, ‘I will be Pharaoh’s daughter,
+and she shall be the mother of Moses.’ In the midst
+of these occupations an evil thought came to me, and
+said, ‘You are doing all this for—<em>whom?</em>—a fallen and
+guilty woman—a degraded outcast!’ And I stopped in
+the middle of the floor aghast at the sudden recollection,
+and terrified at the question of what Mr. Aguilar might
+say to this contemplated act when he should hear of it.
+And as I stood, these lines, read in my school days, came
+into my head—</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c004'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“‘Vice is a monster of such hideous mien,</div>
+      <div class='line'>That to be hated needs but to be seen;</div>
+      <div class='line'>But seen too oft, familiar with its face—</div>
+      <div class='line'>We first endure, then <em>pity</em>, then embrace.’</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c019'>“Yes, I had got to the pitying stage! I was in danger!
+in the whirl of the maelstrom! I turned giddy, and
+dropped into the very easy chair I was preparing for
+her. You used to say, Sophie, that I never prayed to
+God until I got into trouble—which was as true then as
+it is now. I was now in trouble—I did not wish to be
+disappointed of my benevolence—my amusement, then,
+if you will call it so; and I did not wish to see that
+poor creature suffer in the bleak chamber of the
+wretchedly <em>un</em>provided almshouse. I was broken upon
+a wheel of conflicting opinions and emotions. And I
+prayed to God, that if a baleful, moral miasma was
+evolved from the presence of this poor fellow-creature,
+His grace might be the purifying antidote to save
+me, and I got up from this prayer loathing myself for a
+self-righteous pharisee, standing afar off from the poor
+publican, and I saw how far above the authority of the
+poets, philosophers and moralists, whom I consulted
+and worshipped, was the perfect law of love—the law
+of Christ that I had forgotten. Later in the day when
+this fervor had subsided, as all fervor must, and when
+I looked at the <em>rationale</em> of the affair, it was suggested
+to me that if the poor creature were guilty, she appeared
+impenitent—but I replied, ‘She is outcast,
+beggared, and crazed—that is all I know—if she is
+guilty, it is known to God; if she is also impenitent,
+she is mad; and has most likely been driven so by
+cruelty and despair, and I will try to love her back to
+sanity and to penitence. And in this case I have no
+right to judge her—to pronounce her guilty. Still, Sophie,
+I must say, that between old prejudices and new
+sympathy, between ill-regulated feelings and unsettled
+opinions, I was very much in doubt as to the propriety
+of what I was about to do in my husband’s absence.
+Inclination, as is but too usually the case with me,
+weighed down the scale, and I went to bring my
+protegé. I had some difficulty with her. I found her
+in a very lucid state of mind. I congratulated her upon
+her calmness, and she smiled a sad, strange smile, and
+said,</p>
+
+<p class='c017'>“‘Ah! you think me sane, rational <em>now</em>! But when
+I rave, rant and scream! when I tear my hair and
+clothes! throw myself with violence on the ground!
+call on God to strike me dead! and blaspheme because
+He does not do it! <em>then</em> you call me mad! phrensied!
+Alas! <em>then only</em> am I sane, <em>then only</em> conscious of my
+situation, of all I <em>have</em> been, <em>am</em>, and <em>shall</em> be; of my
+past, present, and future, in their horrid reality; and my
+raving is but too reasonable! No, madam!’ she said,
+with sorrowful bitterness, ‘it is <em>now</em>, <em>now</em> that I am
+dull, stupid, collapsed, <em>calm</em> as you call it, that I am
+<em>really</em> insane, for I am now insensible to my condition
+in all its woe.’</p>
+
+<p class='c017'>“I asked for no explanation. I had given up that
+habit long ago. But after a while I proposed my plan
+to her. She hesitated even when I urged her with
+tears of sympathy.</p>
+
+<p class='c017'>“‘If I become an inmate of your house, it is right that
+you should know my whole story, yet that I will never
+divulge.’</p>
+
+<p class='c017'>“‘No! no!’ said I, impatiently, alarmed, ‘I wish to
+hear nothing, will hear nothing—I have nothing to do
+with your past—your future only concerns me,’ for I
+was now beginning to fear her story as a revelation of
+horrors that I should not have the courage to face.</p>
+
+<p class='c017'>“In short, Sophie, I took her home with me that
+very evening to the chamber where I had had a fire
+already made for her reception, and I spent the evening
+there with her.</p>
+
+<p class='c017'>“I kept her there two months. She grew calmer
+every day under my nursing. At the end of two
+months her child was born, and from that time it
+seemed to me that she sank every day. It is true that
+she recovered from her accouchement, and was able to
+leave her room, but I could see that a hectic fever had
+taken a deep hold of her system. I was expecting Mr.
+Aguilar home every day literally with fear and
+trembling. I devised a thousand excuses to make for
+what I had done, and in the end hoped that the joy of
+meeting me again would lead him to pardon the indiscretion
+of which I felt that he would accuse me. Fanny
+Raymond (that was the name of my protegé), sometimes
+with her quick, unusually quick perceptions,
+noticed my anxiety, and questioned me about it. But
+I would smile and tell her that my sources of uneasiness
+were like hers, incommunicable. In the midst of
+this, Mr. Aguilar arrived. It was night when he came
+home. He did not see Fanny that night. Early the
+next morning before we arose, I told him all about it.
+He was deeply displeased; nothing but the circumstance
+of our having just met, after an absence, could have
+saved me from a very severe rebuke. He said that she
+must leave the house immediately. I pleaded with
+him that it was the depth of winter—that she was dying
+of consumption, or a broken heart, for they are often
+synonyms. He was inexorable. I arose and dressed
+myself and wept very much, and then I went to Fanny’s
+room and took up her child in its soft, white night
+dress, and returning to my own chamber, went up to
+the bed and laid the babe upon his bosom.</p>
+
+<p class='c017'>“‘What am I to do with the brat? Do you expect
+me to nurse it?’ said he, as he rose up on his elbow.</p>
+
+<p class='c017'>“I was not afraid of his throwing it out of the window.
+He was passionately fond of children. It was
+his weakness. He could not pass a babe in its nurse’s
+arms in the street. That was one reason why I was so
+anxious for children.</p>
+
+<p class='c017'>“‘It is a beautiful baby,’ said he, smoothing out its
+hair, that looked like bright, pale yellow floss silk.
+‘But here, take it! Why do you bother <em>me</em> with it?’</p>
+
+<p class='c017'>“The struggle in his mind was so evident.</p>
+
+<p class='c017'>“‘Because,’ said I, ‘its mother is dying—it has no
+relatives, I suspect, and no one will claim it—you will
+adopt it I think—and I hope, I pray, I do implore that
+you will let its poor heart-broken mother pass the few
+days of life that remain to her under this roof with her
+baby.’</p>
+
+<p class='c017'>“Useless all my prayers and tears. He was sternly
+determined to send her off with the child back to the
+almshouse, he said. He admitted that were the mother
+out of the question he would cheerfully keep the child.
+At last I raised the infant and carried it into the next
+room. Fanny was standing before the dressing-glass
+writing on the table. She looked up as I came in. I
+never shall forget the expression of her face in this
+world or the next, it was whiter than chalk, sterner
+than marble. She came to me, took the child from my
+arms and laid it on the bed without a word said, then
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_162'>162</span>turning to me she embraced me, kissed my hands,
+pressed me to her bosom, and opening the door pushed
+me gently out of her own, into my own room. <em>That
+was the last time I ever saw Fanny Raymond.</em> An hour
+after that Mr. Aguilar and myself sat down to the
+breakfast-table. I sent up word for Fanny to come
+down. The servant returned with the news that she
+was out. I breakfasted without any presentiment of
+what had occurred. After breakfast Mr. Aguilar went
+to his counting-room and I ran up stairs to see Fanny
+and her child. Fanny was not to be seen. The child
+lay in her cradle. Going up to look at her I saw a
+folded note pinned to her bosom and directed to me. I
+took it off, opened and read it, as well as I <em>could</em> read
+the scrawl. It was as follows:</p>
+
+<p class='c014'>“‘Mrs. Aguilar, your partitions are thin, or my senses
+very acute—at all events, lying in my bed this morning,
+I have heard without intending it, every word of your
+conversation with your husband. I heard his stern but
+well meant decision, your generous defence and benevolent
+pleading, and I blessed and bless you, kind angel,
+from my breaking heart. “If the mother were dead
+‘he’ would take the child,” very well, so be it, the mother
+will die to secure a home for her child—no weak
+hesitation or weaker regrets <em>now</em>. I go and leave you
+my child. Take her, Mrs. Aguilar, and give her to your
+husband as his daughter. Like the Jewish matron
+whom the Lord had written childless, take the child of
+your handmaiden and rear it as your own. She was
+born under your roof, she is yours. I will never return
+to see or reclaim her. Do you know how much it has
+cost me to write that? But I will not think! bear on,
+heart, a few days or hours more. This child—you have
+been fearing all this time that she was the offspring of
+guilt and shame, <em>she is not</em>. I said that I would not tell
+you my story, and I will not, because it would involve
+others. If I were guilty would I be likely to reveal my
+own shame? If I were to say that I am innocent,
+should I be likely to obtain credence? But this baby,
+I must tell the truth of her, she is my husband’s child,
+for I have a husband, though I do not know how long
+I may have one, nor is he in a condition to claim or
+take care of his daughter or even of himself; nor does
+he suspect the existence of this child, for I have been
+a fugitive from his house five months before she was
+born. Therefore keep her yourself, she will be a loss
+to no one but me who resign her. Give her your name,
+it will make her more your own. Call her Rosalia
+Aguilar <em>Withers</em>. Why Withers, do you ask? Well,
+no matter why, perhaps, because she is the bud of a
+<em>wither</em>-ed tree.’”</p>
+
+<p class='c011'>“That was all! The mother had given up her child
+and fled, apparently without a single regret, at least you
+would judge so from the <em>words</em> of her letter; but that
+letter was nearly illegible with wild and scrawling characters,
+and almost blotted out with tears. A lock of her
+babe’s hair was cut off from its forehead, and one of its
+little socks taken away, nothing else was missing. The
+poor mother had left bareheaded and without outside
+covering, for her bonnet and shawl were left behind. I
+was nearly wild with distress, and the poor forsaken babe
+was wailing dismally for its mother, and I could not comfort
+it. You know, Sophie, that though I am rather gentle,
+yet when other people’s cruelties to their fellow creatures
+have very much distressed and grieved me, that I
+end in getting very <em>angry</em>. Well, I sent a footman to
+the counting-house for Mr. Aguilar, who answered my
+summons immediately. It was the first time in all our
+married life that I had ever had occasion to send for him,
+and he was alarmed. He came running up stairs. I
+thrust the note into his hands, and it was <em>my</em> turn to look
+daggers at him while he read it, and it was <em>his</em> turn to
+cower before me.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘We must have her pursued, looked up, and taken
+care of,’ said he, in a trembling voice.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘Oh, yes!’ said I, ‘now that she is drowned—you
+could find no room in the house for her dying form, perhaps
+you will be able to find some spot on God’s earth
+for her grave.’</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“In short, Sophie, I went on in the insolent way in
+which, when I became excited and reckless of consequences,
+I sometimes indulged myself towards him,
+and which he always met with a dignified forbearance
+that at last quite disarmed me.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘Do you take care of the child, my dear,’ said he,
+‘while I take measures to recover the unhappy mother,’
+and he left the room.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“All search proved unavailing—we heard nothing of
+her for several days, and then we heard that a person answering
+to her description had been seen walking wildly
+on the bridge across the river, and the next morning a
+handkerchief and a shoe were found floating, that when
+brought to me I recognised as having belonged to her.
+These created a suspicion that she perished by her own
+act. Well, Sophie, Mr. Aguilar fell into very low spirits
+about it, and we redoubled our care of the infant. We
+procured a wet-nurse, and spared no pains or expense
+in her nurture and education. She is now four years
+old; she has been reared in the very lap of love and
+luxury; but, Sophie, death is near me, at least I fear so,
+and I must leave my poor dove, my delicate little hothouse
+rose, to the rough ground and rude blast that make
+the life of the orphan so hard. And, Sophie, I dare not
+yet let you know that she is not my child in the flesh,
+as she is my child by adoption and by an affection that
+could not be deeper than it is, had I brought her into
+the world. She was born in my bed, reared in my lap,
+from the time she was weaned she has slept with me
+every night. She is the delight of my eyes, the rapture
+of my heart, she is so beautiful, so angelic! But, Sophie,
+you will, perhaps, see <em>none</em> of this unless you
+think she is your <em>niece</em>, you will see only a little interloper
+who has feloniously entered your sister’s home
+and heart and carried away her affections and your
+inheritance, and so, Sophie, I will not for some years
+permit you to know who she is. Not until her loveliness
+has won a home in your love, of which prejudice
+and injustice cannot deprive her. Oh, may God forgive
+me if this is sin.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“It occurs to me now, Sophie, that as your husband
+is named Withers, there may be some connexion between
+the circumstance and the wild fancy name of
+Withers bestowed by Fanny Raymond on her child.
+Still it is not likely that there is, at least circumstances
+forbid me now to investigate it.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Sophie, this letter has been the work of a week, it
+has been written in pain of body and pain of mind.
+To-morrow I must make my will. I shall at the same
+time place this letter in the hands of Mr. Linton, to be
+forwarded to you upon the date of the superscription,
+which will be the eighteenth anniversary of Rosalia’s
+birthday, and before that if necessary.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Sophie, all is done—and the sands of life run very
+low. How much I would give to die on your bosom,
+my only sister! but it may not be. Stranger faces are
+around me—menial hands wipe the death dew from my
+brow.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well! to-night perhaps my spirit may be freed and,
+cleaving the distance between us, hover over your head
+as you sit chatting merrily by your fireside, thinking of
+your gay city sister, dancing in some brilliant ball-room.
+Then I will whisper to your spirit, a dream of our loving
+infant years, and you shall fall into a sweet pensive
+trance that shall last until your husband asks,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘What makes you so silent, Sophie?’</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And you will reply, ‘I was thinking of my sister
+Rose.’ And I shall disappear in the thick facts around
+you. Shall it be so? Yes, Sophie! if my freed spirit
+shall be <em>indeed</em> free, it will seek you before it seeks
+Heaven.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I stopped, because weak tears blinded me—but a
+little child is sitting on my bed, close to my pillow, and
+she is wiping with her little dimpled hands, the damp
+dew from my brow, and her soft lips kiss away the fast
+falling tears from my eyes—let <em>these</em> tears be the only
+draughts of sorrow that she drinks! Love my child,
+Sophie! Oh, God, Sophie! if you want a guardian
+angel in heaven, love my child!</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-r'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“<span class='sc'>Rosalia Aguilar.</span>”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>Gusty had finished the perusal of this letter.
+Gusty was no moralist—he was given to emotion
+rather than to reflection. Yet Gusty fell into
+deep thought, and the fruit of his reverie dropped
+in these words,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Behold the great tangled thicket of sin and
+misery springing from one small seedling of error.
+Behold the terrible consequences of one small
+deception—consequences so nearly fatal! <span class='fss'>FATAL!</span>
+Oh, Heaven, is there a word in earth’s, or in
+hell’s vocabulary, strong enough to express the
+horror of the fate into which this deception had
+nearly plunged its victim!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>And in deep thought, and with a brow of
+gloomy gravity, Gusty went over to the Cornucopia,
+to keep his appointment to dine. He did
+not get an opportunity of speaking to Sophie before
+dinner, for the officers were already assembled
+and waiting. As he entered one door,
+Sophie came in at another, and they sat down
+to the table. Sophie was the only lady at the
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_163'>163</span>board, and she was looking very pale and languid.
+Captain Wilde mentioned that this was
+her first appearance at the table since her long
+illness. Immediately after the dessert was placed
+upon the table, she arose and withdrew to her
+cabin. Lieutenant May made an apology, and
+followed her.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You have read the letter, Gusty?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And what do you think of it? Strange
+story, is it not?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Very.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I regret that Rosalia made any concealment
+from me. I do not know myself very well, but
+I do not think the knowledge of the facts would
+have affected my feelings towards Rosalia. The
+child that my sister loved as her own, would
+have been very dear to me for my sister’s sake
+as well as for her own, being as lovely as Rosalia.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, I am very sure of that, Sophie; and I
+also exceedingly regret this concealment; it
+might have led to the most horrible end.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I do not see that.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, perhaps not; still it strikes me as having
+been very wrong, and wrong doing is <em>always</em>
+dangerous, and sooner or later it brings its retribution.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“It <em>was</em> wrong. I do not defend it. Still her
+motive was affection; her intention good. She
+judged me by the known characters of our neighbors,
+who are proverbially clannish—who intermarry,
+who have strong family prejudices, who
+would be likely to hate an alien by blood, where
+property is concerned, and that alien has been
+the means of disinheriting the family; it was the
+fear that I would look upon the child with dislike,
+which induced my sister to conceal her
+origin until now.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Still, I say people ought not to be so concerned
+for the results of things—people ought to
+do <em>right</em>, and leave the event to God. I am
+learning and proving the good of that every day.
+Why, Sophie! that’s what <em>I</em> did when I got
+into a scrape for doing good. I said ‘God is
+above all,’ and I grabbed right hold of the promises!
+with a good <em>will</em>, and held on to them!
+and <a id='t163'></a>you see the upshot! <em>Why, I’m reinstated.</em>”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You are <em>what</em>, Gusty?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, nothing! nothing! only the devil got
+me into a cursed scrape, and the Lord got me
+out of it, that’s all!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“It strikes me, Gusty, that you are irreverent
+in your faith and gratitude.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Lord! just hear you! do you suppose now
+the Lord wants to be worshipped <em>all</em> the time
+with tears, and groans, and prayers, with long
+faces, drawling voices, and melancholy psalms?
+<em>No!</em> I believe He likes variety, or we should
+not see so much of it in His works. Besides, I
+think the cheerful incense of a jolly good fellow’s
+faith and worship must refresh the angels sometimes!
+See, Sophie! remember how David
+danced before the Ark. Listen! the Jewish historian
+says, ‘he danced with all <em>his</em> might.’
+And one can still better imagine the antics he
+cut, when they read that Michal, Saul’s daughter,
+‘saw King David leaping and dancing before the
+Lord, and she <em>despised</em> him in her heart!’ met
+him with scorn and biting sarcasm—exclaiming
+with provoking irony, ‘how <em>glorious</em> was the
+King of Israel to-day!’ &#38;c., &#38;c.; you know
+the rest. Nonsense, Sophie, the Lord don’t
+want to be always worshipped with a solemn
+physiognomy; at least it is not my ‘<em>gift</em>’ so to
+worship Him. Listen, Sophie! this is my theory
+and practice:—If any fellow-creature wrongs
+or outrages me, I walk right on board of him!
+thrash him like a man! and then forgive him
+like an angel! If any inevitable misfortune falls
+upon me without human agency, I blame the
+devil liberally! And if any good befalls me,
+I praise the Lord with all my soul! There,
+that’s <em>my</em> orthodoxy—and if any heretic don’t
+like it, he needn’t subscribe to it. Dear me,
+Sophie, when I <em>am</em> thankful, I am thankful sure
+enough; my bosom is a jolly big ball-room,
+and my heart dances a tarantula all over it.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I do not know how you can be so thoughtlessly
+gay while the fate of Rosalia remains
+shrouded in mystery!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“God love your gentle sober bosom, Sophie;
+I have been in the deliriums, in the agonies, in
+the blues, the horrors, and the dumps, about
+Rosalia, for six months past, until—I got your—never
+mind—well, anyway, now it is <em>all
+changed</em>, and I feel such a faith, such a profound
+and joyful conviction of her safety, that I cannot
+be anxious from <em>doubt</em>, but only from <em>impatience</em>!
+Cheer up, Sophie! I wish I could infuse some
+of my own confidence into you! Go or send to
+Genoa. I wish <em>I</em> could get leave of absence!
+Rosalia will turn up soon! She is not dead:
+if she <em>had</em> been—much inquiry as has been made
+for her, large rewards as have been offered for
+information about her, it would have been known.
+She has found friends somewhere! and they
+help to conceal her, that is all! God is above
+all!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Conceal</em> her! of what are you dreaming.
+Gusty?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“There it is again! I shall let the cat out of
+the bag, if I stay here another minute. Good-bye,
+Sophie.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But what <em>did</em> you mean?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Dear Sophie, nothing! my hour is up! I
+<em>must</em> go—good-bye!”</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XLIII.<br> <span class='c009'>ROSALIA’S WANDERINGS.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“There’s a divinity that shapes our ends,</div>
+      <div class='line'>Rough hew them as we will.”</div>
+      <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>Shakspeare.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>I do not know how <em>you</em> feel, but I am fatigued
+with chasing up and down the world, from Maryland
+to the Mediterranean, and from the Balize
+to the Bosphorus, my eccentric set of people, who
+have exploded in their passion and blown themselves
+to the four winds of Heaven! I feel like
+an admiral at sea with a squadron, in which
+<em>each</em> ship is in a mutiny, and <em>all</em> in a storm—or
+like a shepherdess with a very short crook, a
+very wild watch-dog, and a very unruly flock.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>And now I must leave the ninety-and-nine in
+the wilderness, and go after the one that is lost—our
+pet-lamb, Rosalia—who, if she has escaped
+the wolf, has withal wandered too far from the
+fold in going out of sight.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_164'>164</span>Upon the evening of her arrival at Genoa,
+Rosalia had been shown into her chamber, had
+been assisted off with her travelling dress by the
+chambermaid, had been supplied with some warm
+water for bathing; and then, at her own request,
+had been left alone. Finding herself in solitude,
+she had taken a pencil and paper, and traced the
+lines of her farewell letter to Raymond Withers.
+Then like one in a dream, driven by one force,
+the instinct of flight from Raymond, led by one
+attraction, the wish for distance and sleep, she
+began her hasty preparations for escape. Selecting
+from her wardrobe a dress that Raymond
+had never seen her wear, and therefore would
+be unable to describe, one also that would attract
+the least possible attention, and in which
+she would be able to glide, spirit-like and unobserved,
+through the gloaming—namely, a
+black velvet pelisse, black beaver bonnet, and
+black lace veil—she arrayed herself, and taking her
+guitar, with a vague idea of its being serviceable
+to her, she opened her door and looked cautiously
+out. It was the hour of dinner throughout
+the house, and the servants were all away from
+this division of the establishment. She hurried
+cautiously down the stairs, watching her opportunity,
+and eluding observation now by passing
+vacant galleries, now by gliding through a crowd
+of busy and hurrying waiters, she escaped from
+the house and stepped out into the street—into
+a broad, grand, spacious street, built up on either
+side with princely palaces, so magnificent that
+any one of them might have been considered
+the chief ornament of any other city. Terrified,
+almost crushed by the stupendous magnificence
+around her, the timid girl hurried through the
+stately streets of the gorgeous city, “Genoa the
+Proud,” as it has been styled for its grandeur.
+Hurrying along under the shadows of the palaces,
+gliding through the crowds of lazzaroni, the poor,
+frightened girl approached the north-western
+rampart. She met many country people coming
+through the gates, with tall baskets of fruit upon
+their heads, and in the crowd that was passing
+<em>into</em> the city, she passed <em>out</em> unchallenged and
+unnoticed. She found herself upon the high
+road leading through the plains, through the
+forest, and lastly through a defile of the Appenines
+to the city of Parma. She went on.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The sun had set before she had emerged from
+the city, and now as she went up the pleasant
+road, bordered by beautiful herbage and fragrant
+flowers, by citron and orange groves, the soft
+and purple evening of Italy, with its clear sky
+and brilliant stars, was around her. The delicious
+coolness of the atmosphere stole all the
+heat from her veins as she wandered on. There
+seemed something in the air, or the ground, that
+strengthened her, for as she walked, her faintness
+and languor left her, and peace fell into her heart
+and all around her. Oh, yes! it must have been
+the pure air,—the fresh earth,—the hum of insects,—the
+hushed flutterings of birds’ wings,
+as they settled on their nests,—the distant murmur
+of the bay, and the nearer whisper of the
+breeze—in other words, the influence of nature,
+the mercy of God that was quieting her excited
+nerves, cooling her burning fever and composing
+her stormy bosom. True that she <em>knew</em> she was
+a delicate, a houseless, friendless, penniless, and
+helpless wanderer in a strange country—she
+<em>knew</em> this, but somehow she could not <em>feel</em> it!
+She only felt the delicious influence of the evening
+air. A great deal of the anguish she had
+experienced at parting with Raymond had been
+expended in the passionate letter she had written,
+in the passionate tears she had shed. The gathered
+force of the storm had burst and was
+over! She was now refreshed. Instead of
+fainting on the road at every step she took,
+coolness and strength seemed to strike up from
+the living earth through her feet, passing into
+all her limbs. And it seemed to her childish
+fancy that in the low music of the insects, of
+the waters and the winds, she heard the angels
+whisper, “Come along! come along! be a good
+girl! we are with you!” and she toiled on, <em>led</em>
+on, not knowing where, until the road declined
+and narrowed into a deep, cool, green forest
+dell, when, overpowered by a delicious drowsiness,
+she lay down to sleep. She did not feel
+alone or wretched—it was strange, but she did
+<em>not</em>. Nature seemed to embrace her in a loving,
+maternal, <em>conscious</em> embrace; God seemed
+bending over her in blessing. She lay down in
+the green and growing leaves that seemed to
+close over her like kindred arms. She fancied
+in her dreamy, sleepy half-consciousness, that
+the leaves which kissed her cheek <em>knew</em> what
+they were doing—that the large, bright, solitary
+star that gazed at her through the overhanging
+foliage, <em>loved</em> as it watched her; only half
+awake, she stretched her hand up towards it,
+gratefully smiled, dropped her arms, and fell
+asleep!—into a sweet, healthful sleep, and
+dreamed a heavenly dream. She saw the Heath,
+the bay, and the river. The heath no longer a
+desert, but covered with fields of waving grain
+and pastures, that fed flocks of sheep and
+droves of kine. She saw the forest glittering
+green in morning dew, and the river flowing
+brightly on to the bay that flashed in the morning
+sun. She saw the Hall, no more a ruin, but
+rebuilt upon the old model—an imposing, yet
+beautiful villa of white freestone, with verandas
+running all around it; with vines twined
+about its pillars; with birds singing in their
+leaves, and children sporting under their shade.
+She saw Hagar in the high, bright bloom of
+health and happiness. She saw Raymond seated
+at his wife’s side, with one arm enfolding her
+form; she saw or <em>felt</em> herself seated at their feet,
+her head reposing upon Hagar’s lap, and Raymond’s
+sedative, white fingers running through
+her ringlets; and she knew that she loved them
+<em>both</em> well enough to give her life for them, nor
+could she distinguish any difference in the affection
+she bore to either. Her heart was filling
+and rising with a strange joy; she awoke. What
+was before her? The sky of Italy still bent
+above her—the bright star still looked down
+through the foliage upon her,—the flowers and
+herbs of Italy still bloomed around her—the
+high road to Parma lay before her,—but what
+was on that road? A group of men with torches,
+bending over her. She gazed in startled wonder
+for a moment,—she was awake and conscious
+again!—an unpardoned sinner—a fugitive and a
+wanderer far from her native country. Were
+these grim-looking men with torches come in
+pursuit of her, and would they carry her back
+to Genoa? or were they a band of the dreadful
+banditti that, inhabiting the fastnesses of the Appenines,
+sometimes poured down in hordes,
+scourging the country with fire and sword, even
+to the city gates? Quick as lightning all this
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_165'>165</span>flashed through her brain, and she fainted from
+terror before the tones of a very sweet voice
+from a carriage on the high road could reassure
+her, in the following question, apparently addressed
+to the men around her—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What is it, Signor Guillio?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“A woman, a young lady, I should judge,
+your Highness.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>A young lady?</em>”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, your Highness.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Is she hurt?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I’m afraid so, madam! I am nearly sure
+that the carriage wheels passed over her limb,
+and that she has fainted from the pain.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, I am <em>very</em> sorry!—but how could she
+have come there? and how very careless to
+drive over her. Signora Morchero, will you
+have the kindness to alight and examine into the
+extent of the mischief done?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>A lady now descended from the carriage, and
+stepping up to the recumbent form of the fainting
+girl, stooped and examined her—noticing the
+richness of her dress, the rareness of her beauty,
+the delicacy of her hands and feet, and the highbred
+expression of every lineament while trying
+to discover where she might have received injury.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Will you not examine her limbs, to see if they
+have been fractured, Signora?” again inquired
+or rather commanded the voice from the carriage.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The lady bent down, and feeling her ankles,
+arose again and said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Her limbs are not fractured, madam, I think,
+and the obstruction that the wheels passed over
+may have been only her guitar; still she is in a
+swoon.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“This is very extraordinary—what does she
+look like?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“She has the appearance of a young person
+of rank.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Signor Guillio, give me your hand—I wish
+to alight,” said the lady in the carriage.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The gentleman, who held a torch, passed it
+to a page, and went up to the vehicle, reverently
+assisting the lady to descend from her carriage.
+Leaning on his arm, she approached the prostrate
+girl; bidding the page hold the torch lower
+and nearer her face, the lady examined her features
+attentively. She seemed struck,—deeply
+interested. Indeed, it was a strange, beautiful
+picture, upon which no one could look with
+indifference; the lovely, snowy face, with its
+delicate Grecian profile, half-shaded by the luxuriant
+tresses of bright golden hair, and both
+thrown out into strong relief by the black velvet
+dress and the dark green pillow of leaves.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Lift her up, Signor Guillio, and place her in
+the hindmost carriage, with our page and tirewoman;
+lift her gently,” said the lady, “we
+cannot leave her here.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The gentleman obeyed; but just as he raised
+her in his arms, Rosalia opened her eyes; she
+shuddered and closed them again in fear; but
+the lady addressed her in a soothing tone, and
+she looked up once more.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You have lost your way, probably, young
+lady?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Rosalia looked up into the lady’s gentle face—she
+understood Italian imperfectly, so she answered
+in the affirmative, not knowing what
+else to say.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Are you hurt?” inquired the lady.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Rosalia replied that she was not.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Were you going on to Parma?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Again, in her surprise and uncertainty, Rosalia
+replied affirmatively.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Then we can take you there,” said the lady,
+and turning again to the gentleman whom she
+had addressed as Signor Guillio, she said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Put her into the carriage with the Signora
+Bianca, and let us proceed on our journey; it is
+late, and the air is chill.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Signor Guillio assisted the girl to arise, and,
+lifting her guitar, led her on to a plain, dark carriage,
+that, standing some yards behind the foremost
+one, was out of sight from the spot on
+which she had been lying. Lifting and placing
+her in it, he merely said to the occupant already
+there—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“A traveller, Signora, whom the Grand Duchess
+has picked up, and intends carrying on with
+her to Parma,” and handing in the guitar, he
+closed the door, and returned to the carriage of
+the lady, who had already resumed her seat.
+The party moved on.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The carriages rolled on. Rosalia seemed to
+herself to be still sleeping, still dreaming. Nay,
+<em>this</em> position seemed more unreal than the dream
+from which she had been awakened. At length
+she said to her silent, and sulky, or weary companion—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Will you have the goodness to inform me,
+Signora, to whom I am indebted for this kindness?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Do you not know, then?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Indeed, I do not. I seem to myself to be
+dreaming, and have only a dim notion of how I
+came here; who was the benevolent lady who
+spoke so kindly to me?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You are a very new comer into this neighborhood,
+as well as a foreigner, if you do not
+recognise Her Royal Highness, Maria Louisa,
+Grand Duchess of Parma, who has been spending
+some weeks at the sea side, and is now
+returning to her own capital.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The simple girl was struck into silence by
+astonishment and awe.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>It was near midnight when the carriages
+entered the gates of a fortified city, and rolling
+through the streets, at length paused before a
+magnificent palace. The party entered its portals.
+Rosalia was provided with a lodging within
+its precincts, by the woman who had been her
+fellow-passenger.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>It was about eleven o’clock the next day
+when she was summoned to the presence of the
+Grand Duchess. Maria Louisa was in her
+dressing-room under the hands of her ladies,
+who were arranging her morning toilet. Rosalia
+entered the sumptuous apartment and the
+august presence with downcast eyes and hands
+simply folded upon her bosom; her golden ringlets,
+parted above her high, pure brow, fell glittering
+down upon the black velvet boddice of
+her dress. Everything in her looks and motions
+repelled suspicion and disarmed prejudice as she
+floated gracefully on and paused meekly before
+the Grand Duchess.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Who and what are you—whence come you,
+and whither are you going, young girl?” inquired
+Maria Louisa.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Rosalia raised her gentle lids to meet the noble
+but haughty eyes of the Grand Duchess, and,
+inspired by a sudden impulse, in meek accents
+begged permission to tell her little tale.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Maria Louisa, seeing her languid appearance,
+pointed to a low ottoman at her feet, bade her
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_166'>166</span>seat herself and proceed. But <em>how</em> to proceed
+without deeply inculpating Raymond, she did
+not know; at last she thought—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“This great lady is so far above us, and so
+far away from us, that the full knowledge of the
+facts put in her possession cannot hurt Raymond—and
+at least, if I speak at all, I <em>must</em> tell
+the truth,” and then Rosalia, in her imperfect
+Italian, “broken music,” told her story, told it
+truly, weeping and blushing, but not concealing
+her own errors, or sparing her own feelings.
+Maria Louisa listened with close attention and
+deep interest. Now, whether it was that, by
+reason of the narrator’s broken language, the
+Grand Duchess did not understand her errors,
+or whether because of her ingenuous confession,
+Maria Louisa was inclined to overlook or forgive
+them, is not known; but it is certain, that
+having fully ascertained the perfect destitution
+of the friendless young stranger, and her entire
+willingness to enter her service, the Grand Duchess,
+in rising to leave her dressing-room, said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I appoint the Signora Rozzallia second assistant
+to my lady of the wardrobe,” and dismissed
+her. Later in the day, Her Royal Highness
+was heard to say,—“That young maiden
+has a perfect cherub’s face. Truth and goodness
+radiate from it.” Later in the <em>week</em>, Rosalia
+was called to sing and play before Maria
+Louisa; and later in the month, she became the
+favorite attendant of the Grand Duchess.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>A strange, vague fear and doubt kept Rosalia
+from writing to any of her friends at present.
+After the lapse of some weeks, she began writing
+to Sophie; but a strong dislike to expose
+the vice of Raymond to any of his own friends,
+caused her to destroy the letter on finding it to
+be impossible to give any true account of herself
+without compromising him with his family.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Thus months elapsed, while she remained in
+the service of Maria Louisa, Grand Duchess of
+Parma, where we will leave her for the present.</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XLIV.<br> <span class='c009'>THE QUEEN OF SONG.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“Radiant daughter of the sun!</div>
+      <div class='line'>Now thy living wreath is won.</div>
+      <div class='line'>Crowned of Fame!—oh!—art thou not</div>
+      <div class='line'>Happy in that glorious lot?—</div>
+      <div class='line'>Happier, happier far than thou,</div>
+      <div class='line'>With the laurel on thy brow,</div>
+      <div class='line'>She that makes the humblest hearth</div>
+      <div class='line'>Lovely but to one on earth!”</div>
+      <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>Hemans.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>Two months have passed since the arrival of
+Gusty May at the “City of the Sultan,” and
+Captain Wilde is ordered to take command of
+the Rainbow, and carry her home—Gusty May
+remaining attached to the ship as third Lieutenant;
+and they sail from Constantinople, intending
+to touch at Genoa, to bring away the
+American Consul, who is recalled to Washington.
+It was on the first of June that the Rainbow
+cast anchor in the Gulf of Genoa, before
+“the City of Palaces.” Gusty’s heart was throbbing
+with anxiety to prosecute in that city and
+neighborhood his search for Rosalia, of whom
+they had not as yet received one word of intelligence.
+The first man that came on board to
+greet him on his arrival, was—who but Lieutenant
+Murphy, who was attached to the Phœnix,
+then at that port.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, my finest fellow in the service, how
+does the world treat you nowadays? Got
+struck from the navy list, for running away with
+a pretty widow, hey? You miserable sinner for
+getting found out! Well, where is this new
+Cleopatra, for whom this modern Marc Antony
+lost the world? And beyond all the rest, where
+is the ‘golden girl?‘—aye, where is <em>she?</em> D—l
+burn me if I don’t court her myself if you have
+failed. I’ll see if I can’t wake her up just a little
+bit—for—</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c004'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“‘Oh, she is a golden girl,</div>
+      <div class='line'>But a man—a <em>man</em> should woo her;</div>
+      <div class='line'>They who seek her shrink aback,</div>
+      <div class='line'>When they should like storms pursue her!’”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c016'>“May I be court-martialed, keel-hauled, and
+dismissed the service, if I don’t make her Mrs.
+Patrick Murphy O’Murphy, and place her at the
+head of one of the handsomest establishments in
+fair Louisiana, if you don’t prevent me quickly,
+my boy!—for—</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c004'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>”‘Oh, she is a golden girl!’—</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c016'>“By the way, talking about beauties, have you
+seen the St. Cecilia yet?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Saint who?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“‘Saint who,’ just hear him! where have you
+been all these months that all Europe has been
+sung into ecstasies, trances, hallucinations, heavens,
+by a new Orpheus—by St. Cecilia—by
+Hagar, the Egyptian!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What?—who—which?—where?—when?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Whither?—why?—wherefore?—come, go
+on, give us the whole list of interrogatories, and
+when you get through, I’ll begin to answer. I
+said, Hagar, the Egyptian—the Spirit of Music—the
+Queen of Song—Hagar of the Lightning,
+as her admirers call her—Hagar, the Gipsy—Hagar,
+the Indian—the Miser—the Prude, as her
+mortified lovers call her. If you have not seen
+her you must go to see her to-day; she has been
+in the city only twenty-four hours. I who saw
+her at Venice and at Paris, and was introduced
+to her as a countryman, I have the entrée, and
+will present you—but where the devil have you
+been all this time, never to have heard of
+Mrs. ——, for that is her name?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty was divided between his joy and surprise
+at finding his old friend Hagar so near him, and
+hearing of her success, and his perplexity in untangling
+the wisp of illusions with which Mr.
+Murphy’s perceptions were fettered. They were
+now standing on the deck—Gusty being on duty
+could not leave the ship; Gusty looked around—sailors
+were passing about—this was no spot
+for a confidential communication, so he remained
+silent.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“When I told you that I had the entrée to this
+lady’s apartments, Gusty—I mean to say, that
+I called on her once in Paris, once in Venice,
+and that I have left my card at her door to-day;
+she was out. She sings this evening, and the
+Grand Duchess of Parma, now on a visit to this
+city, is expected to honor her concert to-night
+with her presence. I will take you to her house
+this afternoon, if you wish it.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Can you do so without her permission?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Surely—yes. One does not need to ask
+permission of a lady in a foreign land to present
+a respectable countryman of her own to her.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“A countrywoman of ours,” said Gusty, willing
+to draw him out without divulging any truth
+there; “how is that?—have I ever heard of her?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, I suppose not—this is something like her
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_167'>167</span>career though:—last fall she suddenly appeared
+in New Orleans, gave a concert which succeeded
+brilliantly, and which was followed by a succession
+of splendid musical entertainments, each
+more astonishing than the last; and just as
+people began to inquire and ferret out her history,
+she withdrew herself from the city, suddenly
+and quietly, as though she had sunk through
+the ground—which she probably did. She arose
+to the surface again in the midst of the city of
+Paris—threw the musical world there into ecstasies,
+and passed on to Vienna, Venice, Naples,
+Genoa, tracking her way with music, light, and
+glory. She has avoided England, as she is
+said to have avoided the Northern states of her
+native country. She has tended southward,
+towards the sun.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You seem to be strongly interested in this
+lady,” suggested Gusty, with a view of setting
+him off again, for he had paused, and fallen into
+a reverie.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well! yes, and no—that is, I admire her—wonder
+at her—get absorbed in her—but it is an
+emotion of terror, awe, and admiration—such as
+one may feel in a grand storm, in the midst of
+sublime scenery, or, at best, under the canopy
+of a splendid starry night—but—as for what <em>I</em>
+call being interested in a woman—that is to say,
+in love with her—I, or, in fact, anybody else, I
+suppose, should as soon get in love with Vesuvius
+burning.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yet you spoke of the malice of her disappointed
+lovers.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Calling her ‘the miser,’ ‘the prude,’ ‘the
+Indian,’ &#38;c., &#38;c.,—yes, but man! they were
+not lovers of anything else but themselves. The
+truth is, this lady’s private life is one of utter
+<em>se</em>clusion and <em>ex</em>clusion, and all the <i><span lang="fr">petits maitres</span></i>
+in the world are piqued at the <i><span lang="fr">caprice bizarre</span></i>
+that shuts up this divine cantatrice with her
+children, when she should be giving <i><span lang="fr">petits-soupers</span></i>
+to their elegancies—and the vanity of
+each is interested in constituting himself an
+exception to this rule, and he is proportionately
+wounded and indignant when his overtures of
+acquaintanceship are rejected.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Then the life of this singular woman is
+divided between her professional labors and her
+children?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No—not her whole life—she is, among other
+extraordinary things, ‘a mighty hunter before the
+Lord’—and when she was in Germany last
+spring, is said to have achieved wonders in that
+line. But I am tired of this—where in thunder
+is the Captain? and are you to be pinned to the
+main-mast all day?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Gone on shore to have a conference with
+Raymond Withers, the American Consul, who
+you know, or perhaps you do not know, is a
+family connexion, worse luck!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, I did not know that, but I do know
+that the new administration has recalled him.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, and we are to take him home—d—l
+fetch me if I think it is safe—doubt if the ship
+can reasonably be expected to go safe into port
+with such a load of sin and misery aboard!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Why, what is the matter!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, nothing, only I hate the fellow, and
+cannot be expected to speak well of him.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, about this American nightingale; will
+you be off duty, and shall I come to fetch you
+this afternoon?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“N-n-o, Murphy, not this afternoon,” said Gusty.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“When, then?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I’ll let you know to-morrow.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>And the friends separated—the rattle-pated
+Murphy returning to his own ship, the Phœnix,
+then preparing to sail from the Gulf of Genoa—and
+Gusty, remaining where he was left, pacing
+the deck, chafing and fuming, and cursing the
+delay that kept him chained to the spot, when he
+was dying to go on shore and seek Hagar. It
+was late in the afternoon before the return of
+Captain Wilde released him from duty, and
+merely pausing long enough to hear that Raymond
+Withers was still suffering from the effects
+of his long illness, as well as from severe anxiety
+to hear tidings of his lost sister, to whose strange
+fate no clue had as yet been obtained—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Did he mention Hagar?” inquired Gusty.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes—that is, he said that it had been some
+time since he had heard from her, and wished
+particularly to know whether we had received a
+letter from her lately; of course I told him
+that we had not—that in fact we never heard from
+her at all—that she seemed to have dropped us—”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Did he say when he had heard from Hagar
+last?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No—I inquired, but he said, vaguely, that
+he could not be precise to a day—that it had
+been—something over a month.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes! I should think it had been—<em>something
+over a month</em>!” said Gusty.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What do you mean by <em>that</em>, Gusty?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, nothing! only it has been something
+over a month since mother wrote to me, and
+women seem to be lazier with their pens than
+with their tongues, that is all.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The truth is that now Gusty was in the Mediterranean,
+Emily Buncombe wrote to him only,
+making him the medium of her affectionate messages
+to the rest of her absent relatives, and
+Gusty, in “giving her love,” always suppressed
+any allusion to Hagar, or merely said “Hagar
+is well,” leaving it to be inferred that she was
+still at the Rialto. Raymond Withers had, as
+has been seen, so artfully avoided the subject of
+his domestic affairs as to leave Captain Wilde
+still ignorant of the estrangement between himself
+and his family. The streets were bathed in
+moonlight, as Gusty May passed through them
+on his way to that quarter of the city in which
+he had ascertained the residence of Hagar to be
+situated. She occupied a suite of apartments in
+an old palazza inhabited by a venerable Genoese
+couple. Gusty knocked loudly at the porter’s
+lodge before he could make himself heard. At
+last a grey-haired man opened the door.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Can I see Mrs. ——?” inquired he, giving
+the <i><span lang="fr">nom de guerre</span></i> by which she was professionally
+known.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The old man shook his head, and was about
+to close the door in Gusty’s face, when he took
+out his card and placing it in the hands of the
+aged servitor, requested him to take it up to the
+lady. He did so; and in a few minutes returned
+and bidding Gusty follow him, led the way up
+the paved walk to the main entrance into the
+hall of the palazza, and throwing open a door
+on the right showed him in, and retired. The
+room was empty, and Gusty had ample time to
+notice its lofty ceiling, spacious extent, and the
+decayed splendor of its old-fashioned hangings
+and furniture before a door at the upper end
+opened, and a regal looking woman, that he
+scarcely recognised for Hagar, entered. She
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_168'>168</span>was evidently arrayed for the evening’s exhibition.
+Her dress of black velvet was thickly
+embroidered with gold; her tresses, grown out
+rich and beautiful again, were held back from
+her brow by a serpent whose scales were formed
+of overlapping emeralds, and whose eyes were
+rubies, and fell in long, glittering, blue-black
+ringlets far below her waist; her arms were bare,
+but serpent bracelets twined around them. Over
+her whole figure and costume, except that it
+was thrown back from her face, depended a
+large, black lace veil wrought with gold. She
+advanced towards the middle of the floor, and
+Gusty, starting up to meet her, held out his hand.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I am so happy to see you, Gusty, my dear
+friend, it is such a joyful surprise. How long
+have you been at this port?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Only came in this morning.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Sit down, Gusty,” said she, taking a seat
+herself.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty followed her example, and turned to
+note the change that had passed over her pale
+but noble features.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Gusty, I have been highly successful in my
+art since I left home, as, perhaps, you have
+heard. I have made a professional tour of Europe,
+and have only been twenty-four hours in
+this city. To-night I sing, and the Grand
+Duchess of Parma will honor the concert with
+her presence. I tell you all this, my dear friend,
+because I know you will care as much as I do
+for my little victories. I was about completing
+my toilet when you sent up your card, Gusty,
+and I had given orders that all persons should
+be denied. I would have admitted no soul but
+yourself, Gusty, and in very truth I am not
+pleased that you should see me tricked out in
+this way, but to-night I bring out Athenais, a
+composition of my own, and have to sustain the
+principal part, that is it! Come to me to-morrow,
+Gusty, and you shall see me, <em>myself</em>, you
+shall see my children, they are both with me;
+my little girls,—they are three years old, you
+know,—can sing better than they can talk, they
+are in bed now, and I am obliged to leave the
+house in half an hour to go to the music-rooms.
+I am usually attended by a matron who is my
+children’s nurse, and my own maid, but on this
+occasion will you make one of the party, Gusty?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“With great pleasure, dearest Hagar! but it
+is so strange to meet you thus; and if one may
+ask, why do you come to Genoa of all cities in
+the world?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“For the reason for which you would suppose
+that I would keep away, Gusty, namely,
+because—”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Mr. Withers is here.</em>”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty sighed deeply, and Hagar unconsciously
+echoed the sigh.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Does he know that you are here, Hagar?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I presume not.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Will you advise him of your presence?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Certainly not.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Then what was your object in coming
+here—but—pardon me, Hagar; the interest that
+I feel in you makes me impertinent, I fear.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, dear Gusty, not impertinent. Well! I
+will tell you,” she said, turning, and looking away
+from him, as a shadow overswept her forehead
+and her voice choked. “It was—unseen by him—to
+look upon his face and form once more, unheard
+by him, to hear his voice once more, there!
+that is it—condemn, despise me if you please—but
+that was my motive in coming to Genoa.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty looked upon her high, pale brow, and
+remained in silent thought for the space of several
+minutes, and then he said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I suppose you have heard very little from
+your friends during your travels, Hagar?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Friends!</em>”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well! family connexions, then.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I have heard <em>nothing</em> from them.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Captain Wilde and Sophie are in port here.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Ah!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes—I am attached to Captain Wilde’s ship.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And we are to take the American Consul
+home.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Indeed!</em>”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Certainly—did you not know of his recall?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Not one word,” replied Hagar, and she fell
+into profound thought.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Now I dare be sworn that you have heard
+nothing from Ros—”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! for God’s sake, hush! exclaimed Hagar,
+as a spasm contracted her whitening features.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I must finish if it knocks you down, Hagar!
+so brace yourself! I say that you have not
+heard that Rosalia is the own sister of Raymond
+Withers!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! my God, <em>no</em>!” exclaimed Hagar, growing
+dreadfully sick.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Hush! stop!</em> be easy, listen. Rosalia is
+<em>innocent</em>—<em>do</em> keep still, Hagar! <em>innocent</em>. I address
+myself to your <em>thought</em>, not to your word!
+Rosalia is pure! she fled the day of her arrival
+at Genoa, and has hidden herself ever since!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“What do you tell me, Gusty? Am I dreaming?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I am telling you the truth, and you are not
+dreaming.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And where is she? And what has put it
+into your head that she is Raymond’s sister, for
+<em>that</em> part of the story I cannot believe?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty looking at his watch and finding that
+there were at least twenty minutes to spare, began
+and told her the whole story, promising to
+bring her the documents that would prove it
+true the next day.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Say nothing, however, to Captain Wilde or
+Sophie of my presence in the city.</em>”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty promised that he would not, and they
+soon left the house for the concert-rooms, which
+they reached in ten minutes’ drive.</p>
+
+<hr class='c013'>
+
+<p class='c008'>The concert hall was crowded—crammed.
+It is with only a few of the large and elegant
+audience that we have to do. The Grand Duchess
+of Parma and her suite occupied a box near
+the stage, and at her feet sat her favorite attendant,
+Rosalia, fanning her with a fan of ostrich
+feathers. The blue silk curtains of her box
+were closely drawn, concealing her party from
+the eyes of the audience, while they left a good
+view of the stage. Gusty May had a motive of
+his own for what he did upon arriving at the
+Hall, namely: he accompanied Hagar in at the
+side door, to the rooms in communication with
+the stage, and concealing himself behind the
+curtain, took a sheltered view of the audience.
+He wished to see if the American Consul was in
+the house. His eye fell upon Raymond Withers,
+seated in the most distant part of the house.
+He was the sole occupant of the box. With a
+quick nod of his head, Gusty retired, and meeting
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_169'>169</span>Hagar, who was seating herself before the harp,
+preparatory to the rising of the curtain, he said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Mr. Withers is in the house, Hagar, but
+perhaps you anticipated this contingency?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar turned very pale, and said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I thought of it—where does he sit? for <em>I
+must not turn my eyes towards that quarter of
+the house</em>.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty told her, adding—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I took pains to ascertain, Hagar, so that I
+might inform and prepare you, for I know that
+with all your strength and self-possession, the
+sudden and unexpected sight of Raymond Withers—if
+it did not overwhelm you, would at
+least endanger your success this evening.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar thanked and dismissed him. He turned
+at the wing to note Hagar. The pallor of death
+was on her brow, and the arm that half embraced
+the harp trembled visibly.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, this will <em>never</em> do,” he said, “Hagar!
+let me bring you a glass of wine, or that curtain,
+now about to rise, will fall upon your <em>failure</em>.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, no, not wine, my heart and lungs are on
+fire now!—bring me ice-water—a large glass of
+ice-water; it is the only sedative for my feverish
+temperament.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty departed, and returned with the desired
+restorative, and stood by her while she quaffed
+it,—stood by her until she was calm.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I must not fail before him, Gusty. Now
+leave me, and—<em>pray</em> for me!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Now,” thought Gusty, as he left her presence,
+and took his way around to the boxes,
+“I will go and take the vacant place by Mr.
+Raymond Withers’s side. It will be interesting
+to notice how he will look when that curtain
+rises, and gives to his view one whom he as little
+expects to see—as <em>I</em> expect to see my poor hidden
+dove, Rosalia.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>As Gusty said this, he passed behind a curtained
+box, between the fluttering silken drapery
+of which, he caught a glimpse of golden ringlets,
+flashing down the sweet, low forehead of a
+quickly averted Grecian profile, that shocked
+his heart into stillness an instant, then muttering
+to himself—“Why what a fool I am! That is
+the box of Her Royal Highness Maria Louisa,”
+passed on, and entered the box occupied by Raymond
+Withers. Gusty had not told Hagar so,
+but he had observed that the Consul was fearfully
+changed—his beautifully fair complexion
+was now sallow; his elegantly carved profile
+was now angular; from weakness or depression
+of spirits he had contracted a stoop. His dress
+was still elegant—for it was habitually so—of
+black throughout, relieved only by wristbands
+and collar of the most delicate linen, by a very
+minute but pure diamond pin, and by a glimpse
+of a watch chain that crossed his bosom. He
+was looking straight before him, towards the
+curtain, as though a strange attraction drew his
+eyes and thoughts there. Gusty entered without
+arresting his attention, until he said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“How do you do, Mr. Withers?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The Consul turned and greeted him with his
+habitually elegant self-possession, as though
+they had but parted an hour before, and nothing
+had occurred in the interval, and then gave his
+attention again to the curtain.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Very well, my prince of self-possession, sustain
+the character, but if the rising of that curtain
+don’t ruffle the down of your serene highness,
+I shall be in despair.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty thought he would try him a little, and,
+as by way of opening a conversation with his
+quiet neighbor, he observed, carelessly—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You have seen this <em>chanteuse célèbre</em> before?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Never,” replied the Consul.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>No!</em>—I really thought you had, frequently.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Raymond Withers did not reply to this observation,
+and the attention of both was arrested
+by the rising of the curtain.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty looked first quickly, anxiously, upon the
+stage. Hagar was commencing her song with
+perfect self-possession; he next covertly glanced
+at Raymond Withers. He, with face pale as
+white ashes, set teeth, knitted brow, and fiery
+eye, was gazing at the songstress, who never
+turned her eyes towards him. The vast room
+was filling with music. The song was rising,
+swelling into a fierce tempest of grand harmony,
+like the rushing of many waters; then receding
+like the memory of a murmuring rivulet heard
+in infancy; now thundering on like the storm of
+battle “hurtling on the plains;” then dying away
+and away, distant, but yet distinct, like the retiring
+steps of spirits gliding down the steeps of
+space. The song was ended; a dead stillness,
+a long pause followed. The audience had forgotten
+the artist in her art—had forgotten to
+applaud until some one, perhaps really the least
+affected of all, recollected to break the tranced
+silence, and an avalanche of applause falling,
+shook the house to its foundation. But Gusty
+May looked at the Consul. He was sitting still
+and pale as an image carved in marble. Silence
+again fell upon the scene.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The cantatrice had retired. Now a gentleman
+presenting himself before the audience bowed
+and waited to be heard. He announced that the
+sudden indisposition of Mrs. —— had for the
+moment, arrested the progress of the oratorio,
+but that she hoped to have the honor of appearing
+before them on the next evening—that
+in the meantime the entertainment would proceed
+without her. The gentleman bowed and retired.
+Many of the audience arose to leave the house,
+among the rest the American Consul, accompanied
+by Gusty May—whose proximity, whose
+very existence he seemed to have forgotten in
+the absorption of his thoughts. Raymond Withers,
+still followed by Gusty May, took his way
+round towards the stage door. Passing the box
+of the Grand Duchess Maria Louisa, he found
+it empty—and heard one lounger tell another,
+that the party had retired <em>because one of the
+ladies of her Royal Highness’ suite</em> had fainted.
+They reached the saloon at the back of the stage.
+Raymond Withers, going up to the gentleman
+who had announced the illness of the <em>chanteuse</em>,
+inquired for Mrs. —— (giving her professional
+name).</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“She has just this moment left the house,
+signore,” replied the gentleman, courteously.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Will you furnish me with her address?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I regret to say, signore, that it is not in my
+possession.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Does any one here know where the lady lives?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I fear not, signore.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Strongly suspecting some deception, Raymond
+Withers prosecuted his inquiries further without
+success. Beginning to feel ashamed of his position
+as a self-constituted spy, Gusty May now
+withdrew, leaving the Consul to pursue his investigations
+alone.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_170'>170</span>Gusty hurried at once to the Palazzo Marinelli,
+the temporary abode of Hagar.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Where is Mrs. ——?” inquired he of the
+porter.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“I do not know, signore, but she gave orders
+that you should be admitted when you called;
+will il signore follow me?” said the old man in
+Italian, as he preceded him to the palazzo, into
+the hall, and throwing open a door that led into
+a private room, retired.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Where is Mrs. ——?” again inquired
+Gusty, of the matron that came to meet him.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“She was summoned from the concert, in
+haste, to the hotel of the Grand Duchess, and
+has gone thither. She merely stopped here an
+instant to say that if you called, I was to ask
+you to have the goodness to come again to-morrow
+morning.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The room was littered all over with trunks
+and boxes and disordered wearing apparel, that
+seemed to have been hastily thrown out of
+presses, bureaus, wardrobes, etc. Gusty thought,
+“This looks like a sudden journey, a flight,”
+but he said nothing, deferring his curiosity until
+the next day.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“She told me that you would like to see her
+children, and that I was to show them to you,”
+said the woman.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty assented, and at her request followed
+her to the upper end of the room, where, withdrawing
+a white lace curtain that draped a large
+crib, she revealed the three sleeping cherubs.
+Gusty looked at them with a tender and growing
+interest, and then drawing back the curtain with
+his own hands, he breathed a sigh and a silent
+prayer for their welfare, and left the room and
+the house.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>It was late, very late, when Gusty returned to
+his ship, so that he found a difficulty in hiring a
+boat to take him thither. On his way, while
+gliding among the numerous shipping, he saw
+one small craft so remarkable for its elegance,
+that he could not fail to notice it; he saw the
+sailors very busy on the deck.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“That is a beautiful little bark,” he said to
+the boatman.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Si, signore; she is the Compensation, bound
+for Baltimore, with the first tide to-morrow;
+they say a lady had her built; and that she
+carries away a band of German emigrants.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>They were now by the side of the Rainbow,
+and Gusty, who in his relapse of abstraction had
+perhaps missed the latter clause of the boatman’s
+speech, paid his fare, and hastily sprang on board.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Very early the next morning Gusty May arose
+and dressed. He came on deck, resolved to ask
+leave to go on shore immediately. The first
+object he saw was the Compensation getting under
+weigh. He stopped and watched her until,
+flowing before a fair wind, she was out of sight.
+Then, meeting Captain Wilde, he named his wish
+to go on shore, obtained leave, and hurried away.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>An hour’s hasty walk brought him to the Palazzo
+Marinelli.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Will you inform Mrs. —— that I have called,
+and let me know if she can receive so early?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Mrs. —— has left the city with all her family,
+signore, and desired me to hand you this,” replied
+the porter, placing a thick letter in his hand.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Gone?—left the city—when?—where?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“At the dawn of day, signore.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty looked at his letter, hastily opened it,
+and caught two smaller letters that fell from out
+of the large one, as he devoured its contents
+with his eyes and brain:</p>
+
+<p class='c014'>“<span class='sc'>Dear Gusty</span>:—Meet me this day two months, at
+eight o’clock in the evening, at Heath Hall. Bring with
+you Captain Wilde and Sophie, and come prepared to
+receive from <em>my</em> hand, the hand of Rosalia Withers,
+whose best praise is, that she is worthy of <em>you</em>—whose
+best testimonial of that fact is, that <em>I</em> offer her to you.
+You bring out the late Consul: I charge you, Gusty, as
+you value my friendship, to make peace with him; nay,
+Gusty, as you value the blessing of God, giving a long
+future of halcyon days, extend to your brother the right
+hand of fellowship. I inclose two letters that I request
+you to deliver to their respective addresses. <em>Au revoir</em>,
+dearest Gusty. I shall precede you to Heath Hall only
+by a very few days.</p>
+
+<div class='lg-container-r c015'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Hagar.</span>”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>The two inclosed letters were directed, one
+to F. Raymond Withers, Esq., American Consul
+for the city and port of Genoa—the other simply
+to Sophie Wilde.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Divided between astonishment, joy, and regret,
+Gusty stood rooted to the spot for the space of
+five minutes after reading this letter. Then it
+flashed upon him like lightning that he had seen
+the ship that carried Hagar and her family from
+the shores of Italy, and such indeed was the fact,
+as upon a further investigation he proved. He
+hurried away to deliver the letter at the hotel of
+the American Consul, murmuring to himself,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Rosalia safe, found; well, I said so!—I positively
+<em>did</em>, the Lord knows it, although no one
+else would believe what a prophet I am!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Gusty gave the first letter to the porter at the
+hotel of the Consul, and carried the other on
+board the Rainbow.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“F. Raymond Withers, Esq., American Consul
+for the port and city of Genoa,” had upon the
+previous evening returned, disappointed, fevered,
+and weary, to his sumptuous lodgings. Hastily
+divesting himself of his raiment, he fell exhausted
+upon his bed, and sank to sleep with a determination
+to find Hagar, and take possession of her
+early in the morning—a resolution which he carried
+out—in his dreams. At dawn the next day
+Raymond Withers arose, and only paused to
+arrange his toilet and to breakfast, because it was
+impossible to find anybody or any place one
+had to look for at such an early hour of the
+morning. Immediately after breakfast he hastened
+to the music-rooms to renew his inquiries;
+there he met the same gentleman who had answered
+his questions in such an unsatisfactory
+manner on the previous evening, but who now
+hastened to say that he had been so fortunate as
+to ascertain the address of the signora—she lived
+in the Palazzo Marinelli, in the north-western
+quarter of the city. The Consul, bowing his
+thanks, hastened thither. He was met by the
+old porter, who, in reply to his inquiries, informed
+him that the lady, with her whole family, had that
+morning sailed for the United States. Stunned
+with disappointment, nearly overwhelmed by
+despair, Raymond Withers returned to his hotel,
+there to find a present consolation and a future
+hope in the note addressed in the hand of Hagar,
+that had been left during his absence by an officer
+in uniform, as his page said. He tore the
+note open; it ran thus:</p>
+
+<p class='c014'>“<span class='sc'>Dearest Raymond</span>:—Meet me this day two
+months, at eight o’clock in the evening, at Heath Hall.
+Come prepared to meet a new found relative—your own
+and only sister, Rosalia,—and to unite with me in
+bestowing her hand on one who loves her and is worthy
+of her. Measure my wish to be reconciled with you,
+by your own anxiety to meet me. If you ask why I
+have now fled your presence, and appoint a meeting of
+some weeks’ distance—I reply, that under all the circumstances,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_171'>171</span>it is best. We must all be prepared by anticipation
+for our general re-union, and I prefer to receive
+you in our own home, and under the happiest
+auspices.</p>
+
+<p class='c017'>“<span class='sc'>Hagar.</span>”</p>
+
+<div class='chapter'>
+  <h2 class='c006'>CHAPTER XLV.<br> <span class='c009'>AN EVENING AT HEATH HALL.</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c010'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>Forgive and forget! why the world would be lonely,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>The garden a wilderness left to deform,</div>
+      <div class='line'>If the flowers but remembered the chilling winds only,</div>
+      <div class='line in2'>And the fields gave no verdure for fear of the storm.</div>
+      <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>Charles Swain.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class='lg-container-b c004'>
+  <div class='linegroup'>
+    <div class='group'>
+      <div class='line'>“I cannot think of sorrow now; and doubt</div>
+      <div class='line'>If e’er I felt it—’tis so dazzled from</div>
+      <div class='line'>My memory by this oblivious transport.”</div>
+      <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>Byron.</span></div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p class='c011'>For three months previous to the events recorded
+in our last chapter, the gossips of Churchill’s
+Point and its environs were thrown into a
+state of feverish conjecture as to the meaning of
+the new doings at Heath Hall.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>At first those who passed in sight of the old
+ruin, observed that a part of it had been pulled
+down, or had at last, as long predicted, <em>fallen</em>
+down, and went on their way without giving the
+circumstance a second thought. Then, as the
+season advanced, those who were in the habit
+of shooting water fowl on the moor belonging
+to the estate, or drawing a net for fish upon its
+beach, passing very near the Hall, noticed
+workmen engaged in pulling down the building.
+Upon being questioned, these men replied in a
+foreign language unintelligible to the inquirers.
+This news being carried straight to the village
+post-office, the country store, the tavern, and
+other resorts of male gossips, arrested the discussion
+of agricultural, commercial, and political
+subjects for the space of an hour. Conveyed
+thence to the tea-tables at home, it did not tend
+to quiet the nerves or incline to sleep the ladies
+of Churchill’s Point. There could be no intercommunication
+among neighbors that evening;
+but early the next morning every one went
+“a-visiting.” The disappointment was, that
+everybody having gone abroad in search of
+everybody <em>else</em>, nobody was at home to receive
+anybody. They missed each other. There
+could be no comparing of notes that day. In
+their rising excitement, they tried it next day
+without much better success, and dodged about
+the remainder of the week like two persons
+getting out of each other’s way on the pavement,
+and missing their object. At church, on Sunday,
+however, the neighbors assembled. Mrs. Buncombe
+was beset with questions that she could
+not answer. Mrs. Buncombe had a nervous
+dread of being supposed to be implicated in anything
+that might be going on at Heath Hall;
+and begged her friends to recollect that the
+family of that estate were not her blood relations,
+though every one seemed to be under the illusion
+that such was the case. In very truth the
+character of Emily had sadly degenerated since
+the death of the good and wise old parson, and
+since her marriage with a weaker, if not a worse
+man. But Mrs. Gardiner Green gave an improvised
+verbal invitation to “the ladies” to meet
+at tea at her house on the next evening. Sewing
+circles and other useful and agreeable Yankee
+inventions, had not then, and have not yet,
+travelled down to Maryland and Virginia. The
+Southern States are far behind the “Far West”
+in this respect. But to Mrs. Gardiner Green’s
+tea-drinking! par parenthèse, Mrs. Gardiner
+Green <em>now</em> calls her evening assemblies “re-unions,”
+“at homes.” The ladies began to drop
+in at an hour that would be considered too early
+for <em>dinner</em> now a days. Emily Buncombe went,
+in mood as nearly approaching the irascible as
+her indifferent nature would permit. I am not
+about to tell you of a Maryland tea-party with
+the tea-equipage of chased silver, upon which
+the crest and initials of the English ancestry
+have been religiously or pretendingly engraved,
+or of the inconceivable amount of <em>substantial</em>
+confectionery (none of your vaporish cakes and
+spiritual ices), all prepared under the eye of the
+mistress—no, nor of the baked canvas-back
+ducks, devilled crabs, fried oysters as large as
+the palm of your hand, or anything else, that made
+the ladies’ tea-drinking look like a public dinner
+given to a board of aldermen. I will not, because
+the bill of fare would run to the end of
+the chapter, and besides, it would make me
+hungry and I should have to stop to eat, and
+then I could not write. But I will <em>proceed</em> to
+the <em>proceedings</em> of the party. The “mysteries
+of Udolpho,” and Heath Hall were talked over,
+and it was decided that the one was as deep as
+the other. Emily Buncombe’s voice grew loud
+and sharp in disclaiming the least knowledge of
+the subject. Finally, as the weather was genial,
+it was agreed that the neighbors should get up a
+fishing festival upon the beach, and that being
+on the spot, they could take notes. Fish feasts,
+picnics, etc., at Heath Hall, were liberties that
+the neighborhood took without the slightest
+hesitation or compunction in the absence of the
+proprietor.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The last of the week was fixed for the projected
+festival, and upon the day appointed the
+company assembled. They passed, in going to
+the beach, immediately through the grounds inclosed
+around the Hall. So rapid had been the
+progress of the work, that they looked upon the
+once damp cellars, now no longer damp, but
+excavated, cleaned, paved, and built up—and
+the foundations of the house relaid anew. Some
+half-dozen foreign looking men were at work
+under the direction of one in authority, who
+seemed to be an experienced architect. To all
+inquiries these workmen replied in a torrent of
+civil but unintelligible jargon. Tarquinius Superbus
+issued from the building covered with
+plaster and sawdust, and seeing the company,
+hastened away, donned his Sunday clothes, and
+went down to the beach to render assistance to
+the visitors that had honored Heath Hall with
+their presence. He had always been accustomed
+to do this at the command of the ever-hospitable
+and courteous proprietors of the Hall. When
+Tarquinius appeared, bowing and smirking his
+“obedience” to the company assembled upon
+the beach, he presented a fine opportunity to those
+in “pursuit of knowledge under difficulties.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He was inundated with inquiries. Tarquinius
+stood perplexed, bewildered. Tarquinius knew
+as little as any one on the ground; but it did not
+suit the self-conceit of Superbus to seem ignorant.
+Tarquinius mused—he thought of several
+lies to tell, but discarded one after the other as
+inadmissible. He seriously thought of telling
+the gaping listeners that “Mrs. Withers was
+drowned in the irruption of a whirlwind, and
+that Mr. Withers had married the daughter of
+the Pope of Rome, who had a gold mine for a
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_172'>172</span>dowager, and that they were coming to keep
+house at Heath Hall.” But he was afraid <em>this</em>
+tale might be soon disproved, and substituted a
+more credible story—namely, that a large fortune
+had been left to Mr. Withers, and that Mr.
+and Mrs. Withers were about to return to Heath
+Hall, and had sent a staff of workmen under a
+German architect to rebuild the house. This,
+divested of its absurdly pompous mistakes of
+language, was about the amount of information
+gleaned by the picnickers. And this story in
+fine obtained credence, implicit credence. Everything
+confirmed it. Were not the workmen
+there? and was not the Hall being rebuilt in
+more than its pristine magnificence? With
+every circumstance that marked the progress of
+the redemption of the Heath and the rebuilding
+of the Hall, the esteem and respect of the
+neighbors for its proprietor increased. Every
+one began now to say what a sin it was to have
+slandered Hagar so—Hagar, too, who in her
+whole life had never been known to retail an
+item of scandal. This was not unnatural;
+calumny is more frequently the result of
+thoughtlessness than of malice. It was singular
+that each one now forgot that himself or herself
+had been most ingenious in his or her
+suspicions and explanations, and loudest in condemnation.
+There was a little “leaven of unrighteousness”
+in the “envy, hatred, and malice”
+of the few whose nature made them jealous of
+their friends’ prosperity; but upon the whole, the
+tide of popular feeling was setting in strongly in
+favor of the expected family at Heath Hall.
+The work progressed rapidly. At the end of
+three months you would not have recognised
+the place. From the foundation stones to the
+chimney summits, the Hall was entirely rebuilt
+of fine <em>red sandstone</em>, a beautiful dark, purplish
+red stone found in Maryland and Virginia. The
+walls around it were rebuilt, and the walks
+paved of the same material. The yards and
+gardens were cleared up, the trees trimmed, and
+the grass shaved down until it looked like velvet.
+The Heath was metamorphosed into a beautiful,
+clean, green sward, upon which children
+might roll and play with delight; the tangled
+thickets crowding here and there among the
+rolling hills were converted into beautiful groves;
+the muddy brooklets at their roots were changed
+into clear fountains or limpid springs, and seats
+were fixed there for the convenience of the
+weary or the contemplative passenger. At the
+Hall, the out-buildings were of the neatest and
+most convenient form, and every minutia of use
+or elegance received its due meed of attention.
+In a word, the ruin, the desolation, was redeemed,
+the wilderness reclaimed and “bloomed
+and blossomed like the rose.” People came
+from “far and near” to see the delightful change,
+and “Alto Rio,” the new name of the estate,
+cut in old English characters and half concealed
+in the oak foliage carved under the eaves of the
+house, became the synonyme for elegance and
+comfort through the whole neighborhood.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>It was three months from the first appearance
+of the workmen to the morning upon which a
+beautiful little bark was discovered moored under
+the shadow of the promontory. Her snowy
+sails were reefed, and a few neatly dressed sailors
+were engaged in removing a portion of the cargo
+from her polished deck to the boat that was to
+carry it to the beach, where a cart and horse
+waited to transport it by a circuitous path to the
+Hall. The sailors seemed to be foreigners. A great
+part of the cargo appeared to consist of elegant
+furniture, statuary, pictures, and articles of virtue, for
+many of the boxes, for convenience, were opened
+upon the beach. All day the little crew and
+the assistants from the Hall were engaged in
+unloading the vessel and conveying its freight
+on shore, and in conveying and arranging furniture
+in the Hall. From the moment that the
+first sight of these proceedings had been caught,
+a crowd of all the idlers and gossips of Churchill’s
+Point began to gather on the brow of the
+cliff to watch the operations of those upon the
+beach below, and many “Oh’s” and “Lords!”
+were ejaculated with gaping wonder as one
+splendid article after another was revealed to
+their view by the knockings up of the boxes upon
+the beach. But they were watching, if perchance
+Mr. and Mrs. Withers, with their family, were
+to be seen, or if they had come, or when they
+were coming. They watched and waited in
+vain. There <em>was</em> a lady down in the luxurious
+cabin of that little craft, in which she was as
+much at home as in her native halls, but this
+lady waited patiently an opportunity of landing
+quietly after the crowd of gapers and starers
+should have dispersed. Day declined. The
+cargo was all disembarked, and even carried
+away. The beach was clear—the clean looking
+sailors resting on their nice deck. All was
+silent, still. There was nothing more to be
+seen, and the loungers began to think of their
+suppers and the marvels they had to relate
+thereat, and to disperse.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The next morning at dawn, a little boat was
+brought around to the side of the vessel, and a
+lady assisted to descend into it. Then a maiden
+and three children were lowered one after the
+other into the skiff. Two sailors entered it, and
+taking the oars, rowed swiftly to the beach.
+The lady stepped upon the sand, the children
+dancing around her for joy to be released.
+Sending the youngest child, the little golden
+haired boy, before her to insure his safety, and
+leading the little dark-browed girls, the lady,
+followed by the maiden, began to ascend the
+side of the promontory by a flight of stone steps
+recently cut for the convenience of passengers.
+As the lady, with her children, reached the top
+of the flight of stairs, and stepped upon the
+highest point of the promontory, the first rays
+of the rising sun fell upon the head of Hagar
+like a blessing! a salutation! that her countenance
+flashed back in gratitude, in joy, as she
+bowed her head and knee, and reverently returned
+thanks.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Let no one sneer. It was the overflowing
+love and worship of a profound soul deeply
+grateful for <em>past sufferings</em> as for present happiness.
+She arose and led the children on to
+the Hall.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>What a different return was this to her landing
+in the stormy winter’s night more than two years
+before!</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>All that day was occupied in a delightful
+review of the house and the grounds. The
+arrangements seemed to give Hagar the utmost
+pleasure. All the next day was spent in her
+elegant library, and devoted to business, looking
+into the accounts of her workmen, paying their
+wages, and so on. She gave up the third day
+of her arrival to pleasure, or rather to the preparation
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_173'>173</span>and anticipation of it; and while the
+children were left in the care of the maiden who
+loved them, Hagar employed herself in writing
+some hundred cards of invitation to all her old
+neighbors of the three nearest counties, to a
+festival to be given at Heath Hall on the evening
+of that day week.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>All these invitations were written in pale, blue
+ink, upon silver edged paper, and sealed with
+white wax by a seal of two doves. This is the
+Maryland fashion of announcing a marriage.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Now, tell me, dear Rosalia; are you quite
+satisfied—happy?” inquired Hagar of the gentle
+girl, who had looked in upon her occupation a
+moment.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Dearest Hagar! my saviour! I will call
+you my <em>sister</em>, when I dare! dearest Hagar! I
+have given myself to you, do with me as you
+please—make me your waiting maid—anything!
+I am in your hands—I am <em>yours</em>. I accept any
+destiny from you.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar looked steadily with her calm eyes at
+the child, then said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But, Rose—<em>Gusty</em>—do you not love him as
+he loves, and as he deserves to be loved?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Dearest Hagar, I love <em>you</em>, wish to love you
+<em>only</em>, to worship, to serve you: dearest Hagar,
+what can I do for you?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Be happy, Rose, and tell me about Gusty—do
+you not love him?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh, yes! yes! I always <em>did</em>, you know—Hagar—”
+the child paused, trembled, grew pale;
+then lowering her voice, whispered, “Hagar,
+stoop down; there is something I have been dying
+to say to you, and never found courage to
+say it—” she paused again; Hagar’s brow grew
+crimson, and,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Do not say it then, Rose,” she murmured low.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But I must, I must; it is a rankling thorn
+that must be plucked out,” said the girl, in a
+suffocating voice, paling and fainting.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar laid down her pen, and drawing the
+child upon her lap, laid her head upon her bosom,
+and whispered, soothingly,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“There! now say what you wish, Rosalia;
+as though you spoke to your mother, or—”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“My guardian angel! You give me courage,
+dear Hagar! Well, listen! I loved—<em>everybody
+and everything</em>—indeed I did! the poor
+old negroes coming from their work, the blind
+old horses, and the crippled chickens, just as
+warmly as I loved you, beautiful Hagar! and
+Gusty, and Sophie—and—and—”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Your brother Raymond.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Yes, I loved everybody and everything, because—because—I
+don’t know why.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You loved the poor, ugly, and wretched, because
+you <em>pitied</em> them; and the beautiful and
+happy because you <em>admired</em> them, my child!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“May be so—I do not know—I only <em>love</em>.
+Well, I loved Gusty and Raymond <em>both</em>, and
+both <em>alike</em>—God knows I did! until—oh! Hagar,
+now listen—everybody seemed to forsake,
+or to hate me, and then I loved <em>him</em> only—until—oh,
+now it comes—<em>now</em> listen!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The girl buried her burning face in Hagar’s
+bosom, and lost her voice. Hagar stooped and
+caressed her. Rosalia resumed, whispering very
+low,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Until one day on the boat, very beautiful and
+bright he looked, and I threw myself in his arms,
+thinking no evil, only loving him dearly, and—<em>he
+kissed me</em>—it was not a <em>good</em> kiss, like Captain
+Wilde’s and Sophie’s; it was a <em>dreadful</em>
+kiss—it burned down through my cheek to the
+very centre of my spirit—it hurt me to the very
+heart—to the very quick of my soul! I got
+away and felt sick and guilty; felt changed and
+fallen. I was dizzy, reeling, and kept feeling at
+my cheek with my fingers, as if there was a scar
+there. I seemed to feel it. I was ill, and possessed
+with a mysterious fear and aversion of
+Raymond; yet when I saw my distance wounded
+him, I felt remorseful, and conquering my aversion,
+forced myself to keep near him. Wretched
+as I was, I could not bear to give him pain;
+and so, Hagar, I remained with him, and he
+kissed me so, again and again! and each kiss
+seemed to sink me lower and lower in a pit of
+infamy, until I could not bear the thought of
+ever facing any of my friends again. I was already
+fallen—lost in my own eyes. Oh! Hagar,
+listen! listen, my sister Hagar! I might
+have been insane, but I do not urge that in extenuation
+of my weakness. I was drawn in,
+and drawn in, like one in the whirl of a maelstrom—feeling
+the danger, the fatality—yet unable
+to stop myself—yet, Hagar, it was <em>all</em> suffering—<em>all</em>,
+Hagar! <em>all</em>. I felt already fallen
+below redemption. I was in the power of a
+will stronger than my own—and, oh! worse
+than all, I was afraid to pray; afraid to touch
+the bible, for fear something dreadful would happen
+to me as a judgment. I felt so sinful, <em>so
+sinful</em>. I felt ill on the voyage out. And <em>then</em>
+I thought of Mary Magdalen, and I said, ‘If
+God, the Father, is of too pure eyes to behold
+iniquity, Christ will surely pity and deliver me.’”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But you should not have lost faith in God,
+dear Rosalia. You are the work of His hands,
+and you could not have fallen so low that the
+Father’s arm was not long enough to reach you,
+the Father’s hand strong enough to lift you, the
+Father’s love great enough to redeem you!
+Never, <em>never</em> doubt it! The <span class='sc'>Father’s love</span> is
+the greatest reality of my experience. Oh,
+Rosalia! to doubt the love of God is to grieve
+the heart of God—believe it!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, I prayed—<em>I prayed!</em>—and then it
+came into my head to run away when I should
+get to Genoa—and even if I perished from want
+indeed, Hagar, I was <em>willing</em> to perish! But
+then—now here is a strange thing. After taking
+this resolution to leave him secretly, I felt a remorse
+at the idea of deceiving him, and giving
+him pain, and I could not bear to look on his
+confiding face. I <em>knew</em> I was doing right in
+leaving him, yet <em>felt</em> as if I were doing wrong!—explain
+this to me, Hagar—was I crazy?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“No, dear Rosalia; you were sane—<em>your</em>
+love for him was pure and holy—<em>his</em> passion for
+you was an illusion, an insanity. <em>Your</em> love
+for him would have blessed and elevated him to
+heaven; his passion for you would have drawn
+you down to hell. Yours was divine love—his
+was fiendish passion. All powers of good and
+evil were striving in your bosom, poor Rosalia;
+but your angel saved you! But, Rose; do you
+still love your brother?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh yes! yes! how can I help it?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“That is well, Rose—he is your only brother—he
+does not love you in any sort just now, I
+know; because sinful thoughts killed his love—but,
+Rose, <em>you</em> must love him back to purity, to
+health and life, and <em>then</em> he will love you rightly.
+This will be difficult at first, but it will grow
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_174'>174</span>more easy every day. And Gusty, Rose! that
+noble man. Just give your whole heart, soul, and
+life, up to him, and think the gift—not enough!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Ah, Hagar! Do I not esteem, reverence
+him for all you have told me of his goodness and
+greatness—only I am not worthy of him.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“He thinks you are, Rose, and you must try
+not to disappoint him.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Well, now, dear Hagar, I have told you all—and
+you do not reproach me; alas! if you
+were to drive me away I could not complain.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar caressed her fondly but gravely, and
+remained silent, continuing to write, fold, and
+seal her cards. At length they were all finished,
+and she requested Rosalia to ring the bell. Tarquinius
+answered it. Hagar collected her cards
+into a packet, and giving them to Tarquinius,
+gave orders that he should saddle a horse and
+ride to deliver to their address as many as could
+be forwarded that day—and to resume his circuit
+with the morning, until all should be disposed
+of. Then rising and calling Rosalia to follow
+her, she went into her chamber and sat down
+with the maiden to work on a beautiful white
+satin dress.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Tarquinius Superbus mounted the most superb
+horse in the stable, and sat forth upon his mission.
+Never did a highland runner with the crois-taradh
+kindle a greater excitement among the rocks
+and glens of Scotland, than did Tarquinius with
+his missives. The first card was delivered at
+Mrs. Gardiner Green’s plantation. Mrs. Buncombe
+was taking tea with her (Emily had not
+called on Hagar since her arrival; but then, be
+it known, Hagar had given her no intimation of
+her return). The card was sent in and the messenger
+called in. He obeyed the summons, and
+stood, hat in hand, bowing and smiling, at the
+parlor door, where Mrs. Green and her guests
+sat at table.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“A wedding at Heath Hall—and who is to
+be married?” was the question addressed to him
+by three or four ladies in a breath.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Tarquinius did not know. He said he believed
+“that Mr. Withers had been killed in a
+duel with the King of Camshatka, and that Mrs.
+Withers was going to be married to the Prince
+of Patagonia;” and seeing several of the ladies
+for whom he had cards, present, Tarquinius, in
+a very unconventional manner, proceeded to deliver
+them, to save himself some miles of travel.
+Seriously doubting Tarquinius’ report and explanation
+of the mystery, the ladies all determined
+to accept the invitations to <i><span lang="fr">le mariage inconnu</span></i>
+to come off at Alto Rio.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The day of the festival arrived.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Rosalia was awakened from her morning’s
+dream by a soft kiss dropped on her forehead,
+and she raised her lids to see Hagar standing by
+her bedside, with brilliant eyes, arched brows,
+and smiling lips.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Good morning, dear Rosalia! <em>Good</em> morning!
+Rise! it is a glorious day—see! the sun
+is smiling a salutation through your windows.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Rosalia, putting her two white arms up from
+the bed, lovingly drew down Hagar’s head and
+embraced her.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Come,” said Hagar, assisting her to rise and
+leading her to a window. “Look forth! It is
+an auspicious morning! All nature smiles upon
+your bridal day.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>It was indeed a glad, jubilant morning! The
+sun had risen in cloudless splendor, tinting with
+a golden radiance the gauze-like vapor that rested
+as a veil over forest, heath, and Hall, river, cliff,
+and bay! The scene was full of freshness, light,
+and music!</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! look and listen, Rosalia, woods and
+waters sing and the birds pause to hear! listen!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“But, dearest Hagar,” said Rose, gazing forth
+upon the bay—“after all, suppose our friends do
+not come; a meeting appointed two months beforehand
+in a foreign country! So many things
+may have happened!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Look, Rosalia!” replied Hagar, holding a
+letter, “they were in Baltimore a week ago;
+this letter is from Gusty, it came late last night.
+I did not get it until this morning; it is an
+<em>avant-coureur</em> of our party. They will be with
+us by this evening’s boat.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Rosalia did not reply in words, but still happiness
+was beaming on her face.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Listen again, Rosalia, my darling—Emily
+will be over this morning to breakfast with us.
+Shame kept <em>her</em> and pride kept <em>me</em> from making
+any advances towards a renewal of friendly intercourse—but
+this morning I arose in a better
+mood. I could not feel resentment (that, however,
+I <em>never</em> felt), but I could not feel indifference
+towards the mother of my dear, noble
+Gusty, and the future mother-in-law of my
+Rosalia. So, love, I wrote her a kind letter,
+explaining the whole affair. I told her that
+Gusty would be here this evening to fulfil an appointment,
+and begged her to come over this
+morning. Could we cherish a cold feeling towards
+any one to-day, love! She wrote me a
+line back to say that she would come with pleasure,
+and to say—what do you think, Rosalia?—that
+she would have been to see us before—wished
+to come, but doubted if her visit would
+be welcome? Come! I sent Tarquin immediately
+back with the carriage to bring her over to
+breakfast, for you know, love, that Emily has
+no conveyance but her horse—I expect her every
+minute—so dress yourself quickly, Rose, for
+breakfast.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Rosalia threw her arms around Hagar’s neck
+and thanked her. She was soon ready, and left
+her chamber accompanied by Hagar, and descended
+the stairs in time to see through the front
+door, Emily Buncombe alight from the carriage.
+Rosalia went timidly to meet her. Emily folded
+her to her bosom in a warm embrace, and then
+turned to receive Hagar’s offered hand. They
+went in to breakfast; but when Emily would
+have pushed a thousand questions as to Rosalia’s
+flight or abduction, and Hagar’s absence, the
+latter gravely replied that Rosalia had passed
+the whole of her time, from her landing at Genoa,
+first in the service of the Grand Duchess Maria
+Louisa, and afterwards with herself, and ended
+with the announcement that Rosalia was the
+sister of Raymond. In the stupor of astonishment
+into which this news threw Emily, she
+forgot to push her investigations about the flight
+any further; but made many inquiries concerning
+Rosalia’s newly discovered relationship. Hagar
+gave her all the information in her possession,
+and ended with announcing the fact, that Rosalia’s
+fortune, left to accumulate at compound interest
+as it had been, now amounted to the snug little
+sum of twenty-five thousand dollars; no plum,
+certainly, but still enough, taken with his income,
+to give Gusty a fair start in the world, at least
+to purchase that small estate, and build, ornament,
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_175'>175</span>and furnish that beautiful little home Emily was
+so anxious to secure for her son. These matters
+Hagar freely discussed with her, because she admitted
+that Emily had a personal interest in them.
+But when Mrs. Buncombe would have pried into
+her own private matters, Hagar gravely waived
+all interrogation, and Emily, in default of better
+information, was forced to take Tarquin’s account
+of matters and things—namely, the great fortune
+left to Mr. Withers in England. Notwithstanding
+this, the day was spent pleasantly, very
+pleasantly, in preparing for the evening; and
+Hagar, our Hagar! how can I describe her
+waiting for the evening! and how, as the hours
+passed, her brow became more and more arched
+and expanded, until it was open as the brow of
+hope! and how her steps became lighter and
+more light, until the spring of her little foot
+seemed to impel the earth upon its orbit!</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Day declined. Twilight was falling cool and
+purple over the forest, heath, and bay, as a packet
+boat wended its way down the Chesapeake,
+drawing near to Churchill’s Point. A party of
+passengers were collected on the deck—a party
+consisting of Captain and Mrs. Wilde, Lieutenant
+May and Raymond Withers. They were
+conversing gaily. The boat neared Churchill’s
+Point. The village was nearly dark and deserted;
+doubling Churchill’s Point they came in sight of
+Alto Rio, the new Heath Hall. It was brilliantly
+illuminated from attic to cellar. The
+lights streamed from its many windows—streamed
+across its lawn, revealing scores of carriages
+filling up the space between it and the water’s
+edge,—and streamed across the bay, throwing a
+flood of light upon the spot where the boat at
+last anchored, close by the side of another
+beautiful little craft, the Compensation, moored
+under the promontory. The travellers landed,
+and taking their way up the new stone steps that
+led up the ascent of the promontory, proceeded
+on their way towards the house, struck with
+admiration and astonishment at the marvellous
+changes they everywhere witnessed. It is true
+that Raymond Withers and Gusty May knew
+perfectly well the source of this sudden wealth,
+and even Captain Wilde and Sophie, since
+Hagar’s letter to the latter, divined it. The
+emotions of Raymond Withers were soon all
+merged in one strong feeling—a heart-burning
+impatience to clasp Hagar to his bosom. He
+thought that were he about to meet her in poverty,
+ill health, and humiliation, he should embrace
+her with as <em>much</em> affection and with <em>more</em> self-respect—upon
+the whole, however, he was not
+anxious to have his disinterestedness submitted to
+this test. He had, before leaving the boat, bestowed
+the utmost attention upon his toilet, and
+his dress was now the very ideal of taste and
+elegance, as his person was of manly beauty.
+In the grand diapason of the reconciliation was
+trilling this one little absurd note.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>We will precede the party to the Hall.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The lights from the Hall streamed from every
+window over the scene; the grounds in front of
+the Hall were blocked up with carriages. The
+verandas running around the Hall were crowded
+with coachmen and footmen, the attendants of
+the guests; the lower rooms of the Hall superbly
+furnished, beautifully ornamented, and brilliantly
+lighted, were filled with splendidly dressed company.
+An upper chamber of the house was
+occupied by three ladies; one, a young maiden,
+sat upon a dressing stool in front of a full length
+mirror, and two stood, one on each side, adorning
+her for the altar. Emily Buncombe looked very
+fine—in a straw-colored satin, with a pretty lace
+cap, trimmed with white snowdrops; our Hagar
+looked the princess that she was, in her delicate
+white lace, over a rich white satin, with her
+brilliant black ringlets collected at the back of
+her head by a diamond-set comb, and dropping
+gracefully upon her crimson cheeks, undulating
+neck and bosom. Diamond bracelets flashed
+upon her rounded arms, and a diamond necklace
+encircled her throat. It was Hagar who looked
+like a royal bride. But she was decking a bride.
+Not a jewel would Hagar permit to desecrate
+the maiden’s beauty. A chaste and simple dress
+of white silk, trimmed with narrow lace, leaving
+the full, rounded, and snowy neck and arms
+bare, and a very slight wreath of young orange
+blossom buds crowning her golden ringlets, completed
+her beautifully simple toilet.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Two young girls from the neighborhood—young
+girls of twelve years old, selected that
+evening from the company below, were waiting
+to attend her. Her toilet was only just completed
+when a rap was heard at the chamber-door, and
+Hagar’s housekeeper entering said—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Mrs. Withers—Captain Wilde, Lieutenant
+May, Mr. Withers, and their party, have arrived.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar had supposed that she would be prepared
+for this meeting, anticipated for two
+months past, and momentarily expected now.
+She had thought to have received him there, in
+her beauty, glory, and pride, with her regal self-possession,—but
+when the words “Mr. Withers
+has arrived” fell on her ear, her heart <em>sank down—stopped—the
+hand of death seemed on her</em>!
+Intense frost burns like fire in contact—extreme
+joy is so like pain as to be undistinguishable.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Ask him to come up,” said Hagar in a
+dying voice, as she stood leaning upon the
+shoulder of Rosalia for support—Rosalia still
+sitting on her dressing stool.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Hagar felt that life and death were striving in
+her bosom—nay, she thought that death had come—and
+only prayed that her last breath might
+flow past Raymond’s cheek and hair, with her
+head upon his breast—as she leaned more heavily
+upon Rosalia, until her long black ringlets overswept
+and half concealed her form. Now she
+thought to receive him there! dying there! But
+lo! a light, quick footstep is on the stairs!—each
+footfall strikes a chord that vibrates to the
+centre of her heart! shocking all her nerves into
+electric life!—she started—sprang—color flowed
+richly back to her cheeks—light radiantly to her
+eyes! Like lightning she flashed from the room
+out into the dark passage.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>He was coming up the stairs, wondering how
+he should present himself before her, when, as he
+reached the landing, he saw a brilliant white-clad
+spirit gleam out across the darkness, and the next
+instant the angel was in his arms—<em>her</em> arms
+about his neck—pressed to his bosom—her heart
+throbbing warmly, humanly against his own.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>No word was spoken yet. They had met
+unpremeditatedly—in silence and darkness—in
+that <em>pure</em>, though passionate embrace!</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>What to them was all the wrong and woe of
+the last two dreadful years? Forgotten! as it
+had ever been. A dark background, only throwing
+out into stronger light the rapture of the
+present meeting—<em>for an instant</em>—but ah! when
+<span class='pageno' id='Page_176'>176</span>recollection came to one! He stooped over her
+and whispered—</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Hagar! I have not one word to say for myself!
+not one excuse to offer for my weakness!
+not one syllable to breathe in palliation of my
+fault! Hagar, I am bankrupt!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>But she drew him to a seat, for emotion was
+overpowering her, dropped upon his lap, her
+arms around his neck, her head upon his shoulder,
+her ringlets sweeping over him, and wept!
+wept!—she, from whose proud eyes of fiery light,
+bitterest <em>grief</em> had never wrung one tear—<em>wept!</em>—as
+though the fountains of her life were broken
+up and gushing through her eyes! For <em>joy</em>,
+reader?—Not altogether; was not her king—<em>her</em>
+king, discrowned before her? and though she
+loved him! loved him! as only high hearts like
+hers <em>can</em> love—no <em>worship</em> mingled with that love!</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>But a bride was waiting to be led before the
+bishop. Rising, Hagar took his hand, and conducted
+him silently into the room, led him
+silently to Rosalia’s side, and laying her hand
+upon her shoulder, said softly,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Turn and greet your brother, Rosalia!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>She arose, blushing, trembling, and Raymond
+Withers opening his arms, folded in one embrace
+his wife and sister to his bosom.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Ten minutes after this a bridal party stood up
+in the middle of the gorgeous drawing-rooms
+below. Bishop Otterback performed the ceremony.
+Raymond Withers gave away the
+bride. Sophie Wilde removed the veil from the
+maiden’s head at the conclusion of the rites.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The wedding was the most splendid festival
+ever given in —— county. Many of the
+guests from a distance remained all night. It
+was near the dawn of day before the visitors,
+those who left the house at all, dispersed, and
+those who remained had retired to rest.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The sun was rising when Hagar, followed by
+her husband, entered the nursery. She led him
+to one little bed where the twin girls were still
+sleeping in loveliness. He stooped and kissed
+each brow without waking either. And then she
+drew him off to a crib, where slumbered the boy
+he had never seen. She stepped ahead of him,
+and lifting this child up from his morning sleep,
+stood him upon the floor in the sunlight to
+waken up in his beauty! And how sparklingly
+beautiful he looked with his pink feet on the rich
+carpet, and his golden curls falling in rippling,
+glittering disorder about his temples and throat,
+and flashing in the sunlight, as he stood there
+waking up, with his graceful head stooped sideways
+like a bird’s looking archly, shily, and half
+loving, half afraid at the handsome stranger
+standing near his mother. Raymond stooped and
+lifted him in his arms, and then the child, with
+a shout of clear, sweet laughter, recognised the
+father he had never seen before, expressing his
+delight in these words,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“Oh! <em>you</em> are beauty—like mamma!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>With infants <em>love</em> and <em>beauty</em> are synonyms—everything
+they love is beautiful, and everything
+that is beautiful they love.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“And what is his name, mine own Hagar?”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“<em>Raymond!</em> but for distinction sake, as well
+as that because he is a sunbeam, we will call him
+Ray!”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The little girls now waking, and hearing
+their mother’s voice, arose and ran to greet her,
+and they too shared the caresses bestowed upon
+their infant brother.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>The beautiful family were all now united in
+love and joy.</p>
+
+<hr class='c013'>
+
+<p class='c008'>Later in the day, Hagar gave her husband an
+explanation that the reader must also have—she
+said,</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“You have not asked me, Raymond, about
+the foreigners around us; yet you must have
+wondered why I employed a dozen foreigners
+rather than my own country people—I will tell
+you in a very few words. All the money we
+possess was made in <em>Europe</em>, from ministering
+to the luxury of the wealthy aristocrats. But
+I saw numerous wretchedly poor and suffering
+peasants—many of them I found upon inquiry to
+be excellent artisans and agriculturists, who
+would work if they could obtain employment,
+and I said to myself, I am about to spend the
+money I have made here in rebuilding a ruin,
+and in reclaiming a wilderness. It will be a
+great labor, and it will only be justice to give
+this work to a few of the people among whom
+I made this money. I thought that if I could
+bring a dozen workmen over to this country, and
+give them employment for a while as a start, it
+would be but right. I had a little vessel built out
+there—I called it the ‘Compensation.’ I got a
+skipper and one or two experienced seamen—the
+rest of the crew consisted of the artisan emigrants
+I was to bring out. I paid them some
+money in advance to leave with their families,
+until they got settled in this country, and rich
+enough to send for them. I had previously sent
+out half-a-dozen mechanics under an architect,
+to rebuild the Hall; and in three months from
+the day of their sailing, and only one week ago,
+I arrived with my emigrant agriculturists. They
+are at work. I know this was right, Raymond,
+and I hope you think so.”</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>“My noble Hagar!”</p>
+
+<hr class='c013'>
+
+<p class='c008'>Alto Rio is now the most fertile and productive
+plantation in Maryland. The Hall is the
+seat of elegant hospitality. Hagar is now in the
+meridian of her life, and of her well preserved
+beauty. Her daughters, Agnes and Agatha, are
+grown up; they are called the twin beauties;
+her son is a noble boy, he is a cadet at ——;
+they have no other children.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Not very far from Alto Rio is another handsome
+villa, it is the residence of Captain Augustus
+W. May, U. S. N., and is presided over by
+a lady who would be thought surpassingly beautiful
+and elegant in any neighborhood not
+adorned by the presence of Hagar Withers.
+They have a numerous family of girls and boys.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Sophie is again in the Mediterranean, with
+Captain Wilde. They have no family, and
+assert that they are contented that such is their
+lot, and I thoroughly believe them, for they love
+each other devotedly, and are never separated,
+Sophie going with him on all his voyages.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Our old friend, Blanche Rogers—have you
+forgotten her?—is now at last the Right Rev.
+Mrs. Otterback; she got the bishop at last. It
+was at Gusty and Rosalia May’s wedding that
+the final blow that brought him to her feet was
+struck.</p>
+
+<p class='c008'>Emily Buncombe is still mistress of Grove
+Cottage, and Mr. Buncombe is still pastor of
+the Church of the Ascension.</p>
+
+<div class='pbb'>
+ <hr class='pb c003'>
+</div>
+<div class='tnotes x-ebookmaker'>
+
+<div class='chapter ph2'>
+
+<div class='nf-center-c0'>
+<div class='nf-center c005'>
+    <div>TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+</div>
+
+<table class='table0'>
+  <tr>
+    <th class='c020'>Page</th>
+    <th class='c020'>Changed from</th>
+    <th class='c021'>Changed to</th>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c022'><a href='#t6'>6</a></td>
+    <td class='c023'>Tidarsi è bene, e non fidarse e meglio</td>
+    <td class='c024'>Fidarsi è bene, e non fidarse e meglio</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c022'><a href='#t19'>19</a></td>
+    <td class='c023'>But Sophie only gazed at him with a started</td>
+    <td class='c024'>But Sophie only gazed at him with a startled</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c022'><a href='#t45'>45</a></td>
+    <td class='c023'>found the gentle and timorous child still shrink</td>
+    <td class='c024'>found the gentle and timorous child still shrank</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c022'><a href='#t55'>55</a></td>
+    <td class='c023'>or rather became of her reluctance, and</td>
+    <td class='c024'>or rather because of her reluctance, and</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c022'><a href='#t73'>73</a></td>
+    <td class='c023'>Raymond,  standing at the window that overlooked</td>
+    <td class='c024'>Raymond, were standing at the window that overlooked</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c022'><a href='#t79'>79</a></td>
+    <td class='c023'>their slovenly habits of cultivatic.—do you not</td>
+    <td class='c024'>their slovenly habits of cultivation—do you not</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c022'><a href='#t84'>84</a></td>
+    <td class='c023'>brother; yet never did only child returning to</td>
+    <td class='c024'>brother; yet never did any child returning to</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c022'><a href='#t97'>97</a></td>
+    <td class='c023'>on her sheek, leaving her contracted brow and</td>
+    <td class='c024'>on her cheek, leaving her contracted brow and</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c022'><a href='#t139'>139</a></td>
+    <td class='c023'>Nessum maggior dolore,</td>
+    <td class='c024'>Nessun maggior dolore,</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c022'><a href='#t151'>151</a></td>
+    <td class='c023'>idea repulsed, revolted him—he would nothing</td>
+    <td class='c024'>idea repulsed, revolted him—he would do nothing</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c022'><a href='#t152'>152</a></td>
+    <td class='c023'>does find the means? I know that she travels</td>
+    <td class='c024'>does she find the means? I know that she travels</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c022'><a href='#t163'>163</a></td>
+    <td class='c023'>and yon see the upshot! Why, I’m reinstated</td>
+    <td class='c024'>and you see the upshot! Why, I’m reinstated</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class='c022'>unchanged</td>
+    <td class='c023'>protegé</td>
+    <td class='c024'>protegé</td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+  <ul  class='ul_1'>
+    <li>Typos fixed; non-standard spelling and dialect retained.
+
+    </li>
+    <li>Used numbers for footnotes.
+    </li>
+  </ul>
+
+</div>
+
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76591 ***</div>
+  </body>
+  <!-- created with ppgen.py 3.57e (with regex) on 2025-07-29 21:36:41 GMT -->
+</html>
+
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for eBook #76591
+(https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/76591)