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| author | pgww <pgww@lists.pglaf.org> | 2025-09-23 02:22:01 -0700 |
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| committer | pgww <pgww@lists.pglaf.org> | 2025-09-23 02:22:01 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/76916-0.txt b/76916-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9288ba5 --- /dev/null +++ b/76916-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,14469 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76916 *** + + + + + + _EM’S HUSBAND_ + _A Sequel to “Em”_ + + + By MRS. E. D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH + + Author of + “Ishmael,” “Self-Raised,” “Lilith,” “The Unloved Wife,” “Why Did He Wed + Her?” Etc. + +[Illustration: [Logo]] + + A. L. BURT COMPANY + PUBLISHERS :: :: NEW YORK + + + + + EM’S HUSBAND + + + + + CHAPTER I + TO THE ISLAND + + On the cliff-bounded stream! + When it is summer noon, + And all the land is still, + But on the water’s face + The merry breeze is playing, + Whitening a ripple here and there. + H. ALFORD. + + +The pretty _White Dove_ lay rocking at its moorings. It was gray on the +outside and white within, and as clean and nice as any little boat need +be. + +Old ’Sias handed his young passenger into it, and made her very +comfortable on a seat in the stern. + +Then he loosened the chain of the boat, spread the snowy sail to the +breeze, took the tiller in his hand and steered for the island. + +They had a beautiful run down the river. + +The clear bosom of the water, reflecting the brilliant morning sky with +its sunlit clouds, displayed all the blending rainbow hues of rose, +violet, azure, gold and green. + +The shore on the right hand was a wide range of high, undulating, wooded +hills, rising one behind the other until their outlines were melted amid +the vapors of the distant western horizon. + +The shore on the left hand was a wall of lofty, rugged, moss-studded +cliffs, whose tops were lost among the clouds. + +Before them, down the river, lay the lovely isle, with its girdle of +green trees, from the midst of which arose its velvety green hill, +crowned with its airy palace, whose high, white walls and many crystal +windows flashed and sparkled in the sunshine. + +“Oh, how heavenly the country is!” exclaimed Em. “I always thought it +was beautiful, but I never dreamed it was so divine!” + +“You come from the city, honey?” inquired the old man. + +“Yes, but I never want to go back to it,” answered Em. + +“Ay, ay! I never was in a city in my life. Dey say how ‘De Lord made de +country and man made de town.’ Do yer think dat is true, honey?” asked +’Sias. + +“Yes, I _do_,” said Em., decidedly. “And if you could see a town you’d +think so, too.” + +“Well, honey, I has libbed in dis yer sublunatic speer a hundred and +fifty years, more or _less_, and nebber sot eyes on a city, nor likewise +a town. But I libs in hopes to see one, or both, ’fore ebber I ’parts +for de glory land,” said old ’Sias. + +Em. did not reply; indeed she scarcely heard his words, as her whole +attention was fixed upon the lovely isle, to whose shore they were now +approaching so near that the velvety green hill, crowned with its +glittering white mansion, was slowly sinking out of sight behind the +beautiful girdle of silver maple trees that encircled it like a halo of +soft light. + +“Here we is, honey,” said old ’Sias, as he drew down the little sail, +and, taking an oar, pushed the boat up among a shoal of white +water-lilies that surrounded the shores. + +Then ’Sias moved the _White Dove_ to a water-post, and got out and +offered his hand to his passenger, saying: + +“Jump for it, honey, so as to clear de wet sand and light wid dry feet +on de rock here.” + +Em. followed his direction and landed dry-shod. + +Then they picked their way over a bank of violets and pansies, +snow-drops and other wild flowers, and then through a thicket of +eglantines, sweet-briers, and wild roses, and honeysuckles, and next +through a grove of acacias or flowering locusts, and finally through the +belt of silver maples and then up the verdant hill, that was beautifully +laid off in groves of fragrant, flowering trees, adorned with statues, +arbors and fountains; in parterres of the most brilliant and odoriferous +shrubs and flowers; and in green terraces, rising one above another, and +reached by white stone steps and leading quite up to the colonnaded +porch of the glistening white mansion, with its many sparkling, crystal +windows and its balconies, verandas and porches. Around the white +columns that supported the piazzas were twined the most beautiful and +fragrant rose-vines and climbing plants. + +It was a place of more than ideal beauty; it was a home of paradisiacal +loveliness. + +It was no dreamy solitude now, however. On the highest terrace in front +of the house were seated about seventy persons, of both sexes and all +ages, colors and conditions—a very small congregation, but making up in +devout attention for what they lacked in numbers, as they listened +silently, with upturned, intent faces, to the preacher, who was +concealed from the newcomers by an intervening, rose-wreathed column. + +“I am afraid we are late,” whispered Em. + +“Yes, honey, we is. The sermon is begun. We sha’n’t hear de tex’ ’less +he repeats it, which he may; but what we will hear will be wort’ comin’ +for, I tell yer. Hush, honey; come ’long here. Here’s a good seat, and +right good view ob de preacher, too.” + +Em. took the seat indicated on the broad pedestal of a group of +statuary, representing Faith, Hope and Charity, that stood on the second +terrace. Her position was a little below the crowd, but gave her a +plenty of space and a good view of the preacher. + +And that preacher! How shall I be able to present him vividly before my +readers—that blind orator of the wilderness, who labored among the +few—the poor and the ignorant—but who ought to have had a world-wide +field and fame. + +He stood on the highest step of the stairs leading up to the colonnaded +piazza in front of the house, so facing his audience. He was a man of +colossal stature, with the shoulders of Hercules and the beauty of +Apollo. His face was of the pure Grecian type, and his countenance was +full of intellect, majesty and tenderness. The top of his head was high, +spherical and perfectly bald, but a fringe of golden hair at the back of +his neck came around and almost touched the flow of golden beard that +fell from chin to bosom. His eyes were blue, large, full, clear and +wonderfully brilliant and mobile! He was dressed in a white linen coat +and white duck trousers, and wore white morocco slippers on his feet. He +stood by a great white marble vase, from which an almond tree grew, and +he rested his left hand upon the vase. That was the only support he had. + +With parted lips, suspended breath and rapt attention Em. gazed on the +stranger. She had never seen so god-like a man. That the magnificent +form should have been struck with paralysis seemed incredible; that +those splendid, radiant, soaring eyes, with their flying glances and +rapt gaze, should be blind seemed impossible. + +Em. could scarcely believe it. + +“I should think they had light enough _within_ them to see in the dark; +that they would never need the sun as we do,” she whispered in +awe-struck tones. + +“That’s what we all say, honey. He has the light _inside_ of his eyes. +But he is stone blind for all that, honey.” + +“Hush! hush! Let me hear _him_,” said Em., as she bent her whole +attention upon the preacher. + +He had evidently got well on in his sermon before the late arrival of +these last comers. They had not heard his text, but they soon +comprehended his subject. It was threefold— + +Faith, Love, Works. + +I shall not risk spoiling the blind preacher’s sermon by attempting any +report of it here. I will only say that in simple, eloquent words, which +went directly to every heart, he explained to them— + +How Faith without Love was cold, and either, or both, without Works, +dead. How Faith and Love must go forth in good uses; must go forth, +through brain, heart and hand in good thoughts, good feelings and good +deeds to all. + +He told them it was not enough we should cease to _do_ ill to our +neighbor, but we should cease to _speak_ ill, or even to _think_ ill of +him. We should do good to him or do nothing; speak well of him or be +silent; think the best of him or not at all; that thus, by the Lord’s +help, we should come into the life of Faith, Hope and Charity—the life +of love to the Lord and the neighbor, in which all men should live in +this world, and in which all should wish to enter the world beyond. + +He told them the vast significance of this word “neighbor”; how it had +reached from the highest created being to the lowest; how he who +“needlessly set foot upon a worm,” sinned in the same manner, if not in +the same degree, as he who tortured or sacrificed a hero or a martyr. + +He begged them to take this truth home with them that all might be the +better and the happier for it. + +The sermon was followed by a fervent prayer, an inspiring hymn, in which +nearly all the congregation joined, and lastly, by the benediction. + +Em. saw the blind preacher raise his radiant face toward heaven to +invoke the blessing, and she reverently bowed her head until he had +ceased to speak. + +When she lifted it to look at him again he had disappeared and his +hearers were dispersing. + +Em. turned inquiring eyes upon old Josias. + +“He’s only dropped down in his chair, behind the rose-vines, honey. +Dat’s allers de way. ’Pears like arter de benediction he gibs right +out,” the old man explained. + +“And you tell me that man is blind? ’Sias, I cannot realize it! Blind! +Why, ’Sias, how _could_ he be blind when, at several places in his +sermon that suited my case, he looked me right straight in the eyes as +if he pointed his words directly to me? How could he know I sat there +unless he could see me? How could he see me unless he had sight, and +very excellent sight, too?” + +“Honey, I don’t know. Dat’s what ’stonishes us all; for dat’s de way he +looks at us all, right in our eyes, right into our hearts, too. I dunno +how it is. He is stone blind, dat is sartain sure, and yet he talks to +yer wid his eyes as plain as anybody can speak. Maybe, honey, _his +soul’s eyes sees your soul_; for he told us in one of his sermons how we +was all souls that had bodies to live in; and not bodies that had souls; +and how our souls were ourselves, and our bodies only our houses of +flesh, our clothing, our instrument, that we were always using up and +wearing out and having to repair by eating and drinking and breathing; +but how we ourselves never did wear out.” + +“I should like to have heard that,” said Em., with a hungry look in her +eyes. + +“’Nother time, honey, what do yer think he said? It was a hard sayin’ +for us poor sinners, now I tell yer! He said the hardest resurrection +was the resurrection of our souls out of de death of selfishness.” + +While the two had sat talking all the rest of the rural congregation had +separated and gone down by the various paths leading from the hill to +the shores of the island, all around which, at various landings, their +boats were moored. + +At length the old man arose and put on his hat, saying: + +“Come, honey.” + +“Oh, Uncle ’Sias, don’t you think we might walk up these steps and walk +around the beautiful rose-wreathed piazza and see the lovely oriel +windows and balconies?” inquired Em. in a coaxing voice. + +“Sartin sure, honey! Come along!” replied the good-natured old fellow, +leading the way. + +Up they went to the elegant porch with its rows of white stone pillars, +wreathed around with climbing red and white roses, all in full bloom, on +the outer side, and adorned with rows of crystal windows on the inner +side. These windows had white shutters that closed within the house. + +Em. looked at these closed shutters with the curiosity and longing of +Blue Beard’s wife when the latter contemplated the closed chamber. + +“Would you like to see inside de house, honey?” demanded the old man. + +“Oh! would I not?” exclaimed Em. + +“Well, den you can, honey. De lady as owns it is the most free-hearted +lady as ebber you seed. She lets anybody walk ober and ober de island, +and t’rough and t’rough de house—less she dere herse’f, honey—den, to be +sure, she ’serves her private rooms. You sit down here, honey, at de +front door and wait for me, and I’ll go round to de housekeeper’s room, +which I knows her, and she’ll let you see de house if she can at my +recommend.” + +“Oh, thank you, dear Uncle ’Sias. I will wait here joyfully until you +come back,” eagerly exclaimed Emolyn, as she seated herself on the +threshold of the front door. + +The old man went down the front and around to the rear of the premises, +while Em., sitting on the threshold of this fairy palace, let her +delighted eyes rove around over rose-wreathed pillars, vine-clad +balconies, oriel windows, trellised terraces, flowery lawns, fountains, +statues, lakelets, groves and sparkling rivulets running down to the +river. + +After a short absence the old man returned with a single key in his +hand, saying, as he twirled it in his fingers: + +“I can show you de hall and de grand saloon, honey, and de drawing-rooms +and library, which are all on dis floor at dis front ob de house; but +all de oder rooms are closed and can’t be shown.” + +“Is the lady at home, then?” inquired Em. + +“No, honey.” + +“Then why may we not see the whole of the house?” + +“I dunno, chile; I didn’t ax her,” replied ’Sias, who was not so much +interested in the mystery as was the young questioner. + +By this time he had slowly unlocked and opened the front door, admitting +them into the hall. + +This hall was circular in shape, spacious in size and lofty in height, +reaching from the inlaid white marble floor to the crystal dome that +formed the roof and lighted the whole scene. Around the polished white +walls of this fair circle were doorways, hung with curtains of blue silk +and white lace, leading into many lovely rooms. + +The old guide beckoned Em. to follow him, and pulling aside the blue and +white curtains of a doorway on his left, led the way into an oval-shaped +saloon, with an oval window in front and a semi-circular mirror exactly +opposite in the rear. This mirror was so artistically contrived that it +reflected all the varied island scenery from the oriel window, and gave +the saloon the appearance of being open and illimitable in length. This +beautiful room was furnished entirely in white and blue—the walls being +of polished white panels that shone like porcelain and having cornices +of blue; the side windows and doorways draped with blue silk and white +lace; the carpet white velvet bordered with blue; the chairs and sofas +covered with white velvet trimmed with blue; the stands and tables of +pure white marble tops, supported on blue-veined marble pedestals; the +statues and statuettes, both in groups and single pieces, all of Parian +marble; the jars and vases of blue Sèvres china. And what was still more +unique in its harmony, the pictures that filled up all the spaces +between the side doors and windows were framed in frosted silver plate, +and the subjects were all of a bright, aerial, happy type—“Spring,” +“Morning,” “Hope,” “Youth.” + +Em., “embarrassed with the riches” of these beauties, gazed in delight +upon the whole room, and then began to examine the pictures, pausing in +a rapture of admiration before each. + +But suddenly in her progress she started, uttered a slight cry and stood +perfectly still before a picture that hung between two lofty windows on +the side of the saloon opposite to the door leading into the hall. + +It was the full-length portrait of a lady, tall, elegantly formed, +gracefully posed and clothed in white from head to foot; a white satin +robe that fell from her rounded bust to her feet and drifted about them +in soft white clouds; white satin hanging sleeves, open from the +shoulders and half revealing the shapely arms; and over all, head, bust +and waist, a large, flowing silver gauze veil that fell to her feet, +half concealing, half revealing the resplendant beauty of the head and +face with the bright, sun-gilded, auburn hair; with the perfect, +chiseled Grecian features, the snowwhite complexion and large, mournful +blue eyes half hidden under their snowy, drooping lids. The background +of this form was a deep, cloudless, twilight sky. There was nothing +else, nothing to divert attention from the beautiful, spiritual, +mysterious form of the lady. + +Em. gazed upon it with breathless attention. It was not the spiritual +beauty and mystery of this veiled figure alone that fixed her gaze—it +was the “counterfeit presentment” of the moonlight apparition she had +seen in the old hall. + +“Whose portrait is this?” she demanded in low, breathless tones of the +old man, who had come to her side. + +“I dunno, honey, ’less it’s de White Spirit’s. Seems like it might be, +from all accounts of her,” replied ’Sias. + +Em. said no more, but remained gazing fixedly at the picture, as she +would not have dared to gaze at the apparition. + +Yes, it was the very same form! the very same features! the same sunlit, +auburn tresses! the same pure, clear-cut, alabaster profile! the same +large, drooping blue eyes—even the same flowing silver gauze veil and +white satin robe! + +Em. shivered, half in terror, half in admiration, and felt for the +moment as if she should lose her reason. + +Old ’Sias waited with exemplary patience, but as minute after minute +passed and the young girl stood there as motionless as if she had “taken +root,” the old man thought proper at last to break the spell by saying: + +“Come, honey, it’s getting on to two o’clock. If yer want to see de +drawing-rooms and de library and de boody we’d better be a-movin’.” + +“No, I will not look at anything else this morning,” said Em., with her +eyes still fixed upon the picture. + +In his surprise old ’Sias stared at the spellbound girl, and then +suddenly uttered a loud exclamation that startled even her. + +“Why, what is the matter, Uncle ’Sias?” she inquired, turning sharply +around. + +“Oh, my law, honey!” cried the old man, staring first at her and then at +the picture. + +“What is it, then?” she repeated. + +“Oh, honey, de _likeness_! _de ’strornary likeness!_” exclaimed the +amazed old man. + +“What likeness, Uncle ’Sias?” inquired Em. + +“’Twixt you and de picter, honey!—’twixt you and de picter! Let alone de +diffunce in de clo’s, de picter is de image ob yer, honey! de same face, +de same eyes, de same hair! Well, law, I nebber did see such a likeness +’twixt two in all de days ob my life!” + +“_Is_ the picture so much like me? How strange,” said Em. in perplexity +as she gazed at the portrait and tried to remember how her own face +looked in the glass; but could not do so. + +“_Like_ yer, honey? Well, chile, I has libbed in dis yer sublunatic +speer for a hund’ed and fifty year, more or less, honey, more or less, +an’ I nebber see no sech a likeness before, dere!” solemnly replied the +old negro. + +“It is very wonderful! but everything about the picture and—the lady, +too—is wonderful,” said Em., as her mind reverted to the apparition of +the night previous. + +“Come, honey, I d’want to hurry yer; but de time is gettin’ on, an’ +Sereny—I promised of her to get back to dinner at two o’clock, honey, +an’ Sereny do have sich a wiolent temper!” said old ’Sias uneasily. + +“Sereny?” questioned Em. + +“Yes, honey, Sereny; that’s my wife, my second one, chile, not my fust +one, as has passed away to de gloryland long ago, dough she wasn’t +nuffin nigh as old as I was; no, honey, Sereny is my young wife as I +took las’ year to keep me warm in my ole age—accordin’ to King David and +Abishey, honey, and true nuff, she _do_ keep me warm—wid her temper and +her tongue, let alone de broomstick and de hoe-helve, honey! An’ ef I +don’t get home by two o’clock, chile, I shall get hoe-helve ’stead of +hoe-cake for dinner, mine I tell you!” said the old man, sighing. + +“Oh, let us hurry, then, and get back. I would not bring you into +trouble for anything in this world! But why do you let a young woman +treat a man of your venerable age so disrespectfully and cruelly?” +exclaimed Em., as she turned to follow her conductor from the saloon. + +“Well, dare’s jes’ where it is! It’s _’cause_ ob my wenerable ole age! +I’m de weakest—in de body, honey! in de body! not in de mine! And she’s +de strongest—in de body, honey! in de body! not in de mine! and so she +gets de better ob me! And serb me right, too, come to think ob it! I had +no business to take Sereny! I wa’n’t no King David! And she had no +business to take me, which she did ’sake ob libbin’ in de purty +gate-lodge, so much purtier dan de log cabins de odder colored folks lib +in. But she keeps me warm—dat’s so—wid de broomstick and de hoe-helve! +But, patience! it can’t las’ forebber, and some ob dese days I shall go +to sleep down here an’ wake up in de glory land, where my _own_ ole +’oman is waitin’ for me,” concluded ’Sias as he carefully locked the +outside door; and then he went slowly down the steps and around to the +rear of the premises to restore the key to the housekeeper. + +Em. remained standing where he had left her, with her eyes fixed upon +the ground, in a deep reverie, which continued unbroken until the return +of the old man, saying as he came up: “Now, den, honey, for de boat.” + +Em. followed him down through the terraced grounds, with their arbors, +statues, fountains, parterres of flowers, groves and ponds, and then +through the wood of silver maples, and the fragrant, blooming wood of +acacias, to the sandy shore, where sat the little _White Dove_ brooding +on the waters. + +Em. entered the boat and seated herself in the stern. + +The old man followed her, hoisted the sail, and took the tiller in his +hand. + +Leaving the lovely island behind he headed up stream and steered for the +Valley of the Wilderness. Now their course lay half way between the +river shores, having the lofty, rugged, gray, rocky precipices on their +right hand, and the beautiful, undulating green and wooded hills on +their left. + +Their progress was a little slower up stream than it had been down, and +so it was near three o’clock when at length they landed at the foot of +the little dilapidated pier belonging to the old boat-house of the +Wilderness. + +Old ’Sias secured his boat and followed Em., who was hurrying along the +woodland walk that led from the landing through the forest to the park +gate. + +“Yes, honey, it is late. Sereny’ll be wiolent, I tell yer!” said ’Sias +as he came up quite breathlessly. + +Em. heard him, and wondered how she might save the poor old man from +suffering at the hands of his Xantippe. + +At length, without stopping in her hurried walk, she unpinned a pretty +new neck-tie that she wore on her white dress, smoothed out the folds +and rolled it up, saying to herself: + +“Bright blue ribbons must be rare luxuries of dress in this Wilderness, +and if it does not mollify the temper of Madame Sereny, I do not know +what will!” + +They reached the park gate at last and passed through. + +And there, sure enough, at the door of the lodge stood the tall, +handsome mulatto woman called, or rather miscalled, Serena. + +A heavy thunder-cloud was on her brow. + +Her little, old, black dwarf of a husband shrank behind Em., who walked +smilingly up to the woman, saying frankly: + +“See what I have brought you, as a testimonial of my gratitude to your +husband for taking me to the island to hear the blind preacher.” + +And with these words she placed the bright blue scarf in the woman’s +hand. + +Serena smiled, showing all her large, white, regular ivories, and said: + +“Thanky, Miss. How purty! Dere ain’t sich a scaff in de whole county as +dis! ’Deed, I’m ebber so much obleeged to yer! Won’t yer come in an’ +res’?” + +“No, I thank you. I have to hurry home to my father and mother,” said +Em. + +“Yes, honey, dat’s right, too! Be dutiful to yer parients. Thanky agin, +Miss! And if ebber, so be, yer want my ’Sias to take yer a rowin’ or a +sailin’, he’ll _do_ it, or I’ll know the reason why he _don’t_. Come in, +’Sias, honey, yer dinner’s all ready for yer,” concluded Sereny in a +tone of such good will that the old man smilingly followed her into the +lodge, while Em. hurried home feeling that all was well. + + + + + CHAPTER II + THE AGENT + + A man in middle age. + Busy, and hard to please. TAYLOR. + + +“Well, runaway! Where have you been all the morning?” briskly inquired +John Palmer as he ran down the front steps to meet his favorite daughter +as she came up the heavily-shaded avenue. + +“To a lovely island down the river, father, to hear a—heavenly +minister!” exclaimed Em. with a burst of enthusiasm. + +And then, as they strolled leisurely on to the house, she gave him, +after the manner of young girls, a rapid, impetuous, and graphic +description of her morning’s adventures and discoveries. + +“An Edengarden and a White Spirit! Wery fantastical names, Em. And, I +reckon, just some of old ’Si’s yarns,” quietly observed John as they +entered the hall, where Susan and old Monica were busy setting the table +and preparing the frugal dinner. + +“Gracious, Em., you’ve been away all day, and if it had not been for +that little black boy—Si’, he said his name was—a coming and telling me +you had gone to a preaching with his grandfather, I shouldn’t a known +what had become o’ you,” said Susan. + +“But I wouldn’t have gone without sending you word, mother. And, oh! as +soon as ever we get quiet I have got _so_ much to tell you,” answered +Em., as she took the loaf of bread out of the good woman’s hand and +began to cut it in slices for the table. + +The hall at this hour presented a very pleasant scene, both the front +and the back doors being open and admitting a free current of the fresh +summer air, laden with the fragrance of the wild woods which grew +closely all around the house. + +From the midst of the hall arose that grand staircase with its lofty +window at the top, forevermore mysterious and memorable to Em. from the +ghostly vision of the night before. + +Now, however, it looked a homely and familiar household object enough, +with the three little girls, Molly, Nelly and Venny running up and down +its richly-carpeted steps or sliding on the balustrades. + +Em. looked up at the high window and at such doors in the upper hall as +came within the range of her sight, and with a natural curiosity, +wondered into what manner of places they led. + +“Mother,” she at length inquired, “have you looked into any of the rooms +above there?” + +“No, child, nor the rooms below, either. There hasn’t been a door opened +anywhere except into this hall. It is Sunday, you know, and neither me +nor your father believe in doing any more work than we can help on this +day, even if we have just arrived at a strange place,” replied Susan +Palmer. + +Em. fell into silent and self-reproachful thought, wondering whether she +had not committed a sin and broken the Sabbath by going to look at the +lovely white palace on the island. + +“Don’t you like to live here, Em.? Ain’t it jolly? Ain’t this a splendid +old hall? I would like to stay here always, even if they didn’t give us +any more of the house to live in than just this. Wouldn’t you?” inquired +her youngest brother, Tom, who had just come in with a pail of fresh +water from the well. + +“Oh, it’s bully! It’s like a picnic or camp-meeting what Aunt Monica +used to tell us about,” chimed in Ned, who was piling up a little heap +of brush in a corner. + +“I hope they’ll let us stay just here, where we can slide on the +banisters all day long,” sung out little Nelly from her perch on the +stairs. + +“Them children will break their necks! John, can’t you make them come +down and behave themselves? They don’t mind me one bit!” cried out Mrs. +Palmer, pausing in the midst of slicing cold ham. + +“Lor’, Susan, woman, young uns is like kittens and monkeys. It is their +natur’ to climb. ‘Sich is life;’ and it’s cruel to perwent ’em; besides, +these poor things never had a chance to climb in all their lives +before.” + +“And now they’ll go it, you may depend! They’ll be swarming up all these +trees like bees before the week is out if you encourage them so.” + +“Well, I hope they will. It will do ’em good. ‘Sich is life,’” concluded +aggravating John. + +All this time Em. had made no remark, but was silently putting the +dinner on the table. It was a cold dinner of bread, butter, ham, pies +and well water; for neither Susan nor John would have any cooking done +on Sunday. + +“I think I like this gypsy sort of life myself,” said John as he began +to drag the heavy, high-backed oaken chair from the wall up to the +table. + +They were all about to sit down to dinner when they were interrupted by +the sudden entrance of a little, elderly, dark-skinned man with snapping +black eyes, a brisk manner, a quick step and a short tone. + +All the family started up. + +“‘Sich is life,’” said John. + +“Well-well-well!” the intruder exclaimed, running his words together in +swift repetition. “Well-well-well! So here you are at last! So here you +are at last!” + +“Yes, sir,” said John Palmer, rising and saluting the stranger who had +taken him so much by surprise. “Yes, sir, we reached here all right. You +are the agent of the property, I presume, sir—Mr. Comical?” + +“_Car_-michael, man! _Car_-michael! But what the deuce are you doing +here in the grand hall? Grand hall—grand hall—grand hall! Eh-eh-eh?” +quickly demanded the brisk little man. + +“Excuse me, sir. ‘Sich is life.’ We are doing no harm. We reached here +last night too late to do anything more than to throw ourselves down +here. This being the Sabbath day, we could not make a change without +breaking the commandment; but to-morrow we will go into the quarters +provided for us, if you will kindly direct us where they are,” said +John. + +“I see! I see! I see! And meantime you are cooking your dinners on the +very hearths where the old cavalier lords of the manor used only to +roast their own shins! Well-well-well! I suppose it can’t be helped for +to-day—to-day—to-day!” replied the nervous little old man with rapid +reiteration. + +“You have likely had a long ride this morning, sir. Won’t you sit up and +take some dinner?” inquired John politely. + +“I thank you! Yes-yes-yes! I believe I will! I believe I will!” said the +agent frankly, taking the chair that one of the boys vacated for him. + +“That is my wife, sir,” said John, indicating the good woman at the head +of the table. + +“Yes-yes-yes! So I should have supposed! I hope you are very well, +ma’am!” exclaimed the quick visitor, and then, without waiting for an +answer, he turned to his host, and pointing with his fork to Mrs. +Whitlock, said: “And the other respectable old party, your +mother-in-law? mother-in-law? mother-in-law?” + +“No, though she do lectur’ me to that extent, she might as well be,” +laughed John as he resumed his place at the foot of the table and helped +his guest to ham. + +“Well-well-well!” said the agent after he had taken the edge off his +appetite with several slices of bread and ham. “Well-well! as your +conscience will not permit you to move on Sunday, and as I can’t stay +here till Monday, I’ll just indicate where you are to lodge yourself and +family. It is in the rear of the manor-house. We call it The Red Wing.” + +“Yes, sir, I know exactly the place you mean. It is just under the +shadow of the mountain and is built of a different colored stone from +the rest of the house—a red stone.” + +“Yes-yes-yes! Very fine specimen of old red sandstone, while the main +building is of blue limestone. You’ll do, you’ll do, you’ll do! And now +I will give you this paper, which contains full instructions as to your +duties here, and I will leave it with you for reference,” said the +agent, handing over to John a very formidable looking document in a +long, yellow envelope, tied with red tape. + +“I will study this to-morrow morning,” said Palmer, stowing it away in +the breast pocket of his coat. + +“I will rest here until the heat of the day is over, and then leave my +horse here and take a fresh one and return-return-return,” said the +agent as they all arose from the table when the frugal meal was ended. + +Leaving the women to clear away the table, John Palmer and his guest +walked down on the front lawn, if lawn that could be called which was so +thickly covered with trees as to be only the skirt of the deep forest +that lay between the house and the river. + +“You spoke about your horse. I hope he is taken care of, sir. If so it +had a been that I had knowed when you first came I’d a taken care of him +myself,” said Palmer apologetically. + +“Oh, don’t bother, don’t bother!” exclaimed the visitor as he threw +himself down at full length under one of the large shade trees, took a +pipe and pouch of tobacco from his pocket, filled and lighted the pipe +from a match, and began to smoke, continuing to talk between his whiffs. + +“Bless you, man, I’m more at home here, more at home, more at home than +you are. I just rode around to the stable, gave my horse to Seth, the +head groom, and then walked on to the house. The horse belongs here. I +have none of my own, none of my own; but I have the privilege of using +these, using these. I shall take a fresh one, a fresh one, a fresh one, +when I go back. But, sit down, man, sit down, sit down. I want to talk +to you about something else, and it tires me to see you standing.” + +John seated himself under the tree at some little distance from the +agent, who then, lowering his tone, inquired: + +“Slept in the house last night, didn’t you? Slept in the house, slept in +the house?” + +“Yes,” replied John. “I told you so, you know.” + +“Yes-yes-yes-yes! So you did! Hem! See anything unusual?” + +“Sir?” inquired John in a bewilderment. + +“See anything unsual—unusual—unusual?” rapidly reiterated the little +man, fixing his keen black eyes on Palmer’s face. + +“I beg pardon. I—I don’t understand,” said John. + +“Any disturbance in the night—any fright-fright-fright?” + +“Not in the least. But now that reminds me that the same question was +asked by old ’Si, the gate-porter, this morning! But I answered him as I +answer you: nothing disturbed us. As far as I know we all slept like +tops—we always do. What _should_ have disturbed us?” + +“Nothing-nothing-nothing! Bats, mice, wind! Nothing more, _I_ verily +believe! But there are a lot of idiots who have got a story up about the +old manor-house being haunted-haunted-haunted!” + +“Rubbish!” said John with all the strong contempt of a practical man for +the supernatural. + +“So I say, so I say.” + +“But I wish, for all that, no one would hint any sich a thing to the +women and girls. It might trouble them. ‘Sich is life.’” + +“No-no-no-no! But even if such a rumor should reach their ears it need +not alarm them. It is only the old manor-house that the fools say is +full of ghosts, ghosts, ghosts! Not the wing, not the wing!” + +While the two men talked together they perceived the slow approach of +some figure through the trees, which soon revealed itself to be old +’Sias, the gatekeeper. + +“Well, well, old man, what do you want? What do you want?” demanded the +agent, ill-pleased at the intrusion. + +“Nothing werry particular, marster; only to pay my dispects to yer, sar, +and I no more knowin’ as you was here till dat boy Seth told me! I +nebber was more s’prised in my life, no, not since I was a boy, and dat +wa’n’t yes’day, marster! Dat must a been a hundred and fifty year ago, +more or less!” + +“Humph-humph-humph! To hear _you_ talk, old man, one would think you +might remember Noah’s flood,” said the agent. + +“Well, no, marster, not quite: but _I_ s’pects my grand-daddy did; ’caze +I has heerd him ’scribe it, when he was a little boy,” gravely replied +the old man. + +“Yes-yes-yes. I see! Mendacity comes to you quite legitimately, handed +down from father to son,” said the agent. + +“Yes, sar, so it do indeed, marster, sar, and few colored fam’lies is as +much favored in dat ’spect as ours,” said old ’Sias so innocently that +the agent looked half ashamed of himself. + +To change the subjects, as well as to utilize the old man, Mr. +Carmichael said: + +“Well, now that you are here, ’Sias, do me the favor to walk down to the +stable and tell Seth to saddle Saladin for me, and bring him around +here.” + +“Yes, marster, wid de greatest pleasure in life,” said ’Sias, moving +off. + +“And here-here-here! Come back here! Here’s a dollar for a present to +buy tobacco pipes with,” added Carmichael, thrusting the broad silver +coin in his hand. + +“Thanky, marster, a thousand times, and I hab the hoss round here for +yer in no time. T’anks be to goodness, Sereny don’t know nuffin’ ’tall +’bout my habbin’ ob _dis_ money! Ain’t me and her been in de way ob +getting presents to-day? She a sky-blue scarf, and me dis here dollar! +But, dere! I ain’t a gwine to let Sereny know nuffin’ ’tall ’bout dis +here dollar. ’Cause if I did—hush, honey!—she’d dance a war-dance ’round +me, and scalp de top o’ my head off but what she’d hab every blessed +cent ob it,” muttered the old man to himself as he carefully stowed away +his prize in the lowest recesses of his trowsers’ pocket and hurried +away down a little foot-path leading through the thicket in the +direction of the stables. + +While waiting for his horse the agent occupied the time in giving the +new overseer some general information about the situation. He told +Palmer that the Wilderness Manor had always been in the possession of +the Elphine family; but that the last male descendant of the race had +suddenly left the house on the marriage of his cousin, many, many years +before, and had lived abroad; that very lately he had died in Paris, +unmarried and intestate, and the manor had fallen to the only daughter +of that cousin whose marriage he had taken in such high dudgeon. + +He went on to say that this lady—whose confidential agent he, Peter +Carmichael, was—had come in person to visit her new inheritance, and +finding the old manor-house going to ruin from neglect, she had directed +him to find a suitable family to take charge of it; and that he had +advertised and found the present family, with whom, he added, he was +very well “pleased-pleased-pleased.” + +He concluded by saying that he was a lawyer by profession and a bachelor +by choice, and that he lived at the Red Deer Hotel in the town of +Greyrock, about thirty miles down the river, and that he rode up weekly +to look after the estate, always changing horses when he went back. + +Then, as he saw the stable boy, Seth, coming up the narrow path and +leading Saladin, he arose to take leave, requesting John Palmer to bid +good-by to the family for him, and promising to ride over again on the +ensuing Saturday. + +“It’ll be ten o’clock before Mr. Comical gets home, and he’ll have to +ride fast to do that,” said John as he stepped into the large hall, +which he found put in order for the night, with all the pallets spread. + +“Has that funny old fellow gone?” inquired Susan as she arose from +putting the last smoothing touches on the children’s bed. + +“Yes, and he asked me to bid you all good-by for him.” + +“Well, now all is done here, we’ll go out and sit under the trees, and I +hope this is the very last night we shall have to sleep in the hall. It +is a perfectly savage way of living!” + +“Oh! I think it’s just _nice_!” + +“It’s real jolly!” + +“It’s first-rate fun!” + +“I’d rather live this way than any way!” + +Such was the chorus of exclamations from the children that answered +their mother’s remarks. + +“Difference of opinion; but ‘sich is life,’” said John. + +“_Do_ hush your noise, Palmer! You distract me with your clatter!” +scolded Susan as she hurried the children out of the house. + +“I wasn’t making the least bit. She and the young uns was making it all, +and I get the blame: ‘sich is life,’” said John as he followed them out. + +But there was no malice in Susan Palmer’s hasty speeches, and her +husband knew it well. + +All was harmony in the family circle as they sat under the trees, John +smoking his white clay pipe, and the children amusing themselves with +picking the grass-flowers that grew thickly around them. + +“Is _this_ country enough for you, Em.?” inquired John Palmer for the +second time, as he looked at his daughter, who was sitting on the ground +with her hands clasped around her knees, and with her eyes fixed upon +the forest, through whose waving branches, glimmering here and there, +could be caught glimpses of the distant river. + +“Oh, father, it is almost divine! I sometimes wonder if we are not all +dead and in Paradise together. Maybe we were all suffocated in our +burning house that night, you know, and have come to life in Paradise!” +dreamily replied the girl. + +“Em., hush! you’re crazy!” broke in Susan Palmer. + +“Well, mother, anyway we _are_ dead to the old life in Laundry Lane, and +are risen to this,” said Em., smiling. + +“_That’s_ what she means, Susan. Law, _I_ understood the girl!” said +Palmer heartily. + +“Oh, yes! I dessay you do, John, and you encourage her in her flights +just as you do the little ones in their climbing. The end of which will +be you will have a crazy girl and three or four crippled children!” +chimed in Ann Whitlock. + +“No wonder Mr. Comical took her for my mother-in-law!” muttered John to +himself. “And now I come to think of it, it is all providential—having +no mother-in-law of my own, Mrs. Whitlock fell right into the place to +fill up the wacancy! ‘Sich is life!’” laughed John to himself. + +They sat out under the trees until their early bedtime, and then they +all returned to the house. The women and children entered first and +retired, and then the man and the boys. + +Em., not wishing a repetition of her last night’s experience, had made +her pallet in the rear of the grand staircase, and close by the back +door, which was left wide open for air. + +As usual with this hard-working and healthy family, as soon as their +heads dropped upon their pillows they fell fast asleep. + +Even Em.—who would have kept her eyes open if she could, for the +pleasure of looking out from her pallet through the open door upon the +waving trees, the gray rocks beyond and the starlit sky above, soon +succumbed to fatigue and slept soundly. + +The vigils of the last night and the exertions of the past day had +completely exhausted the girl, and produced a prolonged sleep of many +hours. + +It must have been very near day when at last she calmly opened her eyes. + +The moon was shining over the top of the mountain and down through the +waving trees and making their shadows dance upon the floor of the hall +and on the white quilt of Em.’s pallet. + +All else was still in the place. + +“This is beautiful, beautiful,” said the girl, watching the graceful +shadows of the leaves dance and fly over her outspread hands. She knew +the moon was also shining through the lofty window at the head of the +stairs and flooding the stairway and front hall with light where she had +seen the radiant vision of the night. She felt glad that she had moved +her pallet, for she thought that visions would not be likely to appear +anywhere else except in that splendor of light. + +Hush! What was that? + +Her ears had caught the sound of a soft foot-fall approaching, +accompanied by the slight _swish_ of a trailing garment along the floor. +The sound drew nearer. + +Horror of horrors! What is this? + +No radiant form of light now! but a demon of darkness from the pit! a +tall figure shrouded in black from head to foot, with a muffled face of +which nothing could be seen but a pair of fierce, dark eyes that seemed +to shine and gleam by their own fires! + +Em.’s blood curdled in her heart; she tried to cry out! to spring up! to +fly for her life! but she could neither move, speak, nor breathe! + +The terrible form drew nearer, stood beside her pallet, stooped over +her. + +That was too much, and the girl swooned with horror. + + + + + CHAPTER III + THE RED WING + + Face to face with the true mountains, + Standing silently and still, + Drawing strength from fancy’s dauntings, + From the air about the hill, + And from nature’s open mercies, + And most debonair good will. + E. B. BROWNING. + + +When Em. recovered her consciousness it was broad daylight, and the old +hall and the woods around it were full of the jubilant sounds of +awakening life. + +John and his two boys had slipped out to wash and dress themselves in +the back premises, leaving the hall to the sole possession of the women +and girls. + +Em. instantly recollected her frightful vision of the night; but, true +to her resolution of silence on the subject of the haunted house, she +refrained from speaking of it, while she inwardly thanked Heaven that +she had passed her very last night in the ghostly hall. + +She arose with alacrity, rolled up her pallet, and put it out of the +way, dressed herself and began to assist her mother in clearing up the +hall for breakfast. It was a lively scene, like the general getting up +in the morning from the cabin of a steamboat. + +“Why, my girl, you overdid yourself yesterday, you did! You look as pale +as a ghost this morning! Just go and sit down in that arm-chair, and +don’t attempt to do a hand’s turn to-day,” said Susan Palmer on seeing +her daughter’s pallid countenance and languid air. + +But Em. declared that she was able to work, and begged to be allowed to +do her share. + +The hall was quickly set in order. John and the boys brought in wood and +water; old Monica kindled the fire; Mrs. Whitlock filled the kettle; +Susan Palmer set the table; and Em. cut the bread and meat. + +As “many hands make labor light,” the breakfast was soon prepared, and, +with the keen appetite bestowed by the pure mountain air, it was soon +consumed. + +As they were about to rise from the table a shadow crossed the front +door and the odd little figure of the old gatekeeper entered the hall, +and in such a plight that his appearance was greeted with a general +exclamation from the company present; but before any one could ask a +question the old man walked up to the new overseer and said meekly: + +“If yer please, Marster John, Mr. Comical, as he passed out de gate +yes’day, tole me to come up here dis mornin’ and help yer to get +righted, and show you t’rough de Red Wing, case you couldn’t find your +own way.” + +“Thank you, ’Si; your help will be very acceptable. But, man alive, +what’s happened to you?” inquired John, gazing with surprise and pity on +the battered veteran who stood there with his clothes torn to ribbons, +his eye black, his nose swelled, and his scalp bleeding from where a +lock of hair had been pulled out by the roots. + +“He looks as if he had been blowed up by a steam-boiler!” said Tom. + +“Or run over by a locomotive,” added Ned. + +“He looks to me more as if he had had an interview with a wild cat,” +suggested Em., half in pity, half in humor. + +“But what on earth _is_ the matter with you, man?” repeated John. + +“Well, ver see, marster, Sereny has been performin’ on me,” quietly +replied ’Sias. + +“_What?_” demanded John. + +“Sereny has been performin’ on me, sar. Dancin’ of a war-dance over me, +marster; it is Sereny’s little way she has, Marster John. Only, dis time +’pears like she has scalp’ me worse ’an I ebber was scalp’ since I was a +boy, and dat was a hundred and fifty years ago, marster, more or less, +more or less, sar.” + +“But who the mischief is Sereny?” + +“My young wife, marster; dat young yaller gal yer might see at de +gate-house any time passing,” meekly replied old ’Sias. + +“But what on earth did she abuse you for?” demanded John. + +“Marster, yer know dat dollar yer see Mr. Comical gib me?” + +“Yes.” + +“Well, marster, dat Sereny hab got a nose like a rat-terrier for +smellin’ out things. Jes’ ’cause Mr. Comical come on a visit to de +place, and I went up to pay my dispects to him; Sereny suspicioned him +gibbin’ me money, an’ soon’s ever he was gone she up an’ ’cuse me ob it +to my face, an’ tell me to ’liber dat money up to my lawful wife. I +didn’t want to gib all dat money, ’cause I knowed she’d heabe it all +away on finery, an’ sich trash, first chance she got, so I wouldn’t +’fess as I had any. An’ den she tried to sarch me, an’ I ’sisted her, +an’ den she began to perform on me an’ dance a war-dance round me, an’ +tomahawk an’ scalp me, an’ bein’ so much youngern stronger’n I am, she +got the better o’ me an’ took all my money——” + +“And left you in this condition?” + +“Yes, sar; which it’s a little way Sereny’s had ebber since I married of +her.” + +“But what in the world tempted an old man like you to take a young +wife?” + +“Yes, sar; dat’s jis’ where it is. In de old ages of my pilgrimage I did +take a young gal for a wife, according to King David and Abishey, to +keep me warm in my old days—which warm she _do_ keep me, sar, as yer may +see for yerself, my head is all of an inf’amation now wid de warmin’ up +she gib me yes’day. An’ I offen do wonder to myself, thinking of my own +thoughts inside of myself, how was dat de way young Abishey kept ole +King David warm—wid de broomstick an’ de hoe handle, let alone sometimes +de shovel and de tongs also,” said the old man in reflective tone. + +“Well, I never heard that preached on, as ever I can remember; but now +you put it to me, I should not wonder if it was so; for ‘sich is life,’ +you see,” gravely replied John. And then, after a few moments of quiet +thought, he added: + +“But, ’Si, this catamount of yours shall not be let to clapper-claw your +body off your soul! I’ll see to it ’Sias! I’ll see to it!” + +“Now, Marse John, don’t yer do no sich a thing. Don’t yer go interferin’ +’tween man an’ wife, ’tain’t no good! I don’t want no white man to +interfere ’tween me an’ Sereny, an’ any colored ge’man try to do it—well +dere! Sereny’d settle _him_! Now, Marse John, I is ready for any sarvice +as yer would like to have me to do, an’ _able_ for it, too! Dese here +woun’s and bruzes is all on the outside, an’ looks worse dan dey feels. +To be sure de head is de worse, for it do feel mighty hot: but den it is +also mighty hard. I was born wid a hard head, marster, so dey used to +tell me, an’ it’s been gettin’ harder an’ harder ebery year all my life, +for a hund’ed and fifty year, more or less, marster; till now it’s done +got dat hard as it can stan’ even Sereny’s broomstick and hoe handle. So +now I is ready for yer, marster,” cheerfully concluded this war-worn +veteran. + +John Palmer had taken out his paper of instructions and was reading +them. + +“Here we are,” he exclaimed, folding up and replacing the document in +his pocket. “Here is our first duty, in the first line, to open and air +the house from garret to cellar, to build small wood fires in every +chimney, to burn out the cobwebs and dry the dampness; afterwards to +take time and thoroughly clean the house. Well! the opening and airing +and fire-kindling will be enough to begin with to-day. It will take us +until noon, and then we must move into our own quarters in the Red Wing. +Now, then, suppose we begin with the rooms on this floor? What do you +say, Susan?” + +“Certainly, John—unlock the doors! We are every one of us _aching_ to +see the closed parlors,” answered the woman. + +John gave the big bunch of keys to old ’Sias, saying: + +“As you know the locks better than I do, you must unlock the doors for +us.” + +The old man selected a key, fitted it, and opened a door on the right +hand and admitted the whole party to a long, dark, sombre drawing-room, +whose close air and musty smell immediately drove the women and children +back into the hall, leaving only John and old ’Sias to enter together. + +“We’ll soon alter this, ’Si,” said Palmer as he went to one of the front +windows, threw up the sash, and with some effort withdrew the rusty +bolts and opened the heavy shutters. + +Old ’Sias had meanwhile pushed back the sliding doors across the middle +of the room and was now performing the same service at the back windows. + +And soon floods of light and currents of air poured into the +long-disused apartment. + +“This must have been the ball-room, from its size,” said John, staring +down the long saloon that reached the whole length from front to back of +the house. + +“Well, sar, it were mostly used for company and parties.” + +“You can come in now, Susan; the air is good enough.” + +The whole troop poured into the room and began to walk about and stare +with wide open eyes. + +The waxed oaken floor had no carpet, or a carpet of thick dust only. The +dark, oak-paneled walls were decorated with a few fine pictures, one of +which immediately attracted the attention of Em. It hung in a very rich +and very dusty gilt frame, between the two front windows, and it reached +from the floor to the ceiling. + +It was the full length, life size portrait of a lady in the costume of +the time of Queen Elizabeth—a bright blue satin dress, richly +embroidered with silver thread and lavishly trimmed with lace and decked +with gems. It was made with the long, tight waist, full, short, puffed +sleeves, and high, standing ruff of the period. + +The hair was dressed in large masses of ringlets on each temple, and +surmounted by a close cap of bright blue velvet, embroidered with +silver, edged with a row of large pearls, and brought down to a peak on +the top of the forehead, and widened out in loops over each mass of +curls upon the temples. A mantle of ermine drooped from the graceful +shoulders, leaving bare the beautiful neck, framed in with its high +standing ruff, and adorned with a necklace of many rows of pearls. Long +ear-drops and broad bracelets of pearls completed the set. The +background of the picture was the cushioned steps and canopied chair of +a throne, and gleaming and glowing with crimson velvet and gold. + +It was a very gorgeous and brilliant picture, full of light and color. +But it was not the rich dress, splendid jewels or royal surroundings of +the court lady that held the eyes of the spellbound girl—it was the +lovely face! the same in its delicate outlines, fair, spirituelle +beauty, clear blue eyes and sunny hair—the very same with that of the +white-veiled picture she had seen in the palace on the island. + +But how different the costume and surroundings! One, adorned with the +most superb robes and splendid jewels in the magnificent court of +Elizabeth. + +The other, arrayed from veiled head to hidden feet in spotless white, +with nothing but clouds for a background, might have been a spirit or a +woman of any time or country. + +Yet the faces were the same. + +“Uncle ’Sias,” whispered Em., “can you tell me whose portrait this is?” + +“Yes, honey, dat’s one ob de aunt-sistresses ob de ole family,” answered +the gatekeeper. + +“The _what_? The aunt-sis—Oh! do you mean ancestress?” inquired the +puzzled girl. + +“Yes, honey, aunt-sistress. She were a great lady in her time, but it +was a long, long time ago, more ’an a hund’ed and fifty years ago, I +reckon.” + +“Oh, yes! the costume of the lady shows the picture must be three +hundred years old, and must have been brought from England in the +earliest settlement of this country.” + +“Very likely, honey! Anyway, she were a great lady. Lady—less see +now—what’s dat dey did call dat pictur’? Lady Em-Emmer-Emmerlint!” + +“‘Emolyn!’” exclaimed our girl, turning and looking full upon the +speaker. + +“Yes, honey! dat was it! Emmerlint! _Lady_ Emmerlint, dey called her! +And now I looks at dat pictur’ right good, oh, my gracious me alibe, +honey!” cried the old man, staring at the picture and then staring at +Em. + +“Why, what’s the matter _now_?” + +“De likeness, honey! De mos’ ’strorna’ry likeness!” + +“Oh!” exclaimed Em. suddenly, “I remember that you said that the +portrait that you saw in the island palace was like me, too.” + +“So I did, honey. Bofe is like you and like each oder, dough I nebber +would o’ noticed it if you hadn’t been by. Well, it is de mos’ +’strorna’ry fing as ebber I seed since I was a boy, and dat was a +hund’ed and fifty years ago, more or less, honey.” + +At this moment John Palmer called old ’Sias to attend him through the +other rooms. + +The whole party then left the long drawing-room, crossed the hall and +went into the south wing, which was made up on this floor of family +parlor, library, sitting-room, dining-room, and conservatory—all except +the latter having paneled oak walls and polished oak floors, and being +furnished with the heavy, highly ornate tables, chairs, escritoires, +screens, and sofas of a past century. + +Having thrown open all the windows in this wing the party proceeded up +the great staircase, followed by old ’Sias, who, on the landing, passed +the others and unlocked the chamber doors and opened the windows. Here +were long suites of bed-rooms and dressing-rooms, all with the darkly +polished oak floors and the oak-paneled walls, and heavy, black walnut, +four-post bedsteads, with lofty canopies; and broad walnut presses with +innumerable drawers and cupboards; deep, high-backed, softly-cushioned, +easy chairs; high, semi-circular, curtained toilet tables, curious, +old-fashioned china ewers and basins, and many other things, interesting +from their oddity or antiquity. But everything was covered with dust, +veiled with cobwebs, and redolent of must and mice. + +Indeed, often, on opening a door, the intruder would be startled by the +rapid scuttling away of rats or mice, and sometimes, near a chimney, by +the flitting out of a bat. + +“_They_ are the ghosts that haunt the house, I reckon, ’Sias,” said John +Palmer in a low voice to the old guide. + +’Sias shook his solemn old head and said nothing. + +Em. overheard the remark and shuddered. She remembered the radiant +apparition of the first night and the horrible spectre of the last, and +to her the whole of these vast, dark, dreary rooms wore a ghostly +aspect. + +They visited the attic and the back buildings. + +And then, while the women and girls returned to the hall to prepare +dinner, John, old ’Sias, and the boys brought light wood and kindled +little fires in all the chimneys to dry the rooms and destroy the must. + +“And, now,” said Palmer, “we’ll get a bite of dinner and then go into +our new home.” + +“Yes, marster,” replied old ’Sias; “which I hope, sar, you’ll find to +yer satisfaction.” + + + + + CHAPTER IV + RED WING + + A rude dwelling, built by whom or when, + None of the ancient mountain people knew. + SCOTT. + + +Red Wing was a misnomer, since it was not really a wing, but a separate +building, on the northeast corner of the manor-house and much older than +the old hall. + +Tradition said that it had been erected by the Elphines immediately +after their arrival at the Wilderness, and had been their dwelling for +some years before the more imposing edifice had been raised. + +Subsequently it had been used as kitchen, scullery, laundry, and +servants’ hall and lodging. + +But since the self-expatriation of the last of the Elphines the Red +Wing, like the Old Hall, had been shut up and deserted. + +Now it was to be opened to accommodate the new overseer and his family. + +All this was explained to John Palmer by old ’Sias, as he led the way to +the house, followed by the whole party. + +They left the hall by the back door, and passing through the back yard +turned to the left, where, nearly hidden by high trees, and immediately +under the shadow of the rocky precipice, stood the old Red Wing. + +’Sias, going before, opened the door, entered and threw open all the +windows to the light and air, and great need there was to do this, for +the old Red Wing was pervaded by a heavier fixed air and a deeper +dampness and a stronger smell of mould than had hung about the closed +manor-house. + +This building was of two stories, with cellar and attic. There were four +rooms on each floor, with a passage running from front to back between +them. + +The rooms were large, with low ceilings, broad, low windows and very +wide fireplaces. They were filled up with the oldest fashioned +furniture, much of it rickety and worm-eaten—all of it covered with dust +and mould. + +John, old ’Sias and the boys bestirred themselves briskly, brought pine +cones, dried brush and other combustibles and quickly built fires in all +the chimneys. + +“Now, Marse John,” said old ’Sias, “as I’ve ’stalled you inter yer new +house I’ll be going. It’s mos’ Sereny’s tea time, and I couldn’t stand +another scalping.” + +“Very well, old man, go. You have done quite work enough to-day for one +of your age,” said John kindly. + +“_We’ve_ got work enough for a week to come, cleaning up the old place,” +exclaimed Susan Palmer when ’Sias had disappeared. + +“Never mind, mother. There are ten of us to do it, and we shall soon get +through; and oh, think what a lovely, roomy old house this is; and how +beautiful outside. The trees overshadow the roof, and from the back +windows you can almost stretch out your hand and touch the rocky +precipice,” said Em., brightly. + +“Let’s see, now,” said John, looking around himself. “There are four +rooms on this floor. This one we are in is the kitchen, in course; and +well supplied it is with cupboards and dressers. The room next to this +must be your bedroom, Susan, my dear, because it will be convenient to +the kitchen, and, besides, it will save your back, running up and down +stairs. Across the passage is two rooms—the front one, opposite your +bedroom, must be for the parlor, and the back one, opposite this +kitchen, for our family room. How rich we are in space, Susan. Plenty of +space and air for all the family. What a blessing! Well, and now the +four rooms upstairs. Em., you shall take your choice there, and have a +room all to yourself.” + +“Oh, father, if I might choose, and mother pleases, I would like to have +the attic. It is all one great room, running from front to back, you +know, and I don’t mind climbing.” + +“Very well, then your mother must sort the four chambers upstairs among +the children and the two old women as she sees fit. Now, who in the +world is this?” exclaimed John, as a little, old colored woman, who +looked like ’Sias in petticoats, entered the kitchen. + +“Ebenin’, mist’ess; ebenin’, marster; ebenin’, young uns. Hopes you’ll +’scuse me. I jus’ come to look in on y’ all, to see how you’re gettin’ +’long.” + +“You are quite welcome. Take a seat,” said John. + +“Who are you, and what is your name?” inquired Susan. + +“I’m yer Uncle ’Sias’ onliest sister, Aunt Sally, yer know, honey. Yes, +honey, Aunt Sally; that’s my name. I only come to see yer all outen good +will, honey. I don’t mean no harm, honey; I never does mean no harm. I +never does nothin’ to nobody,” meekly explained the little old woman as +she sank into an old-fashioned stuffed easy-chair that Em. placed for +her. + +“You are ’Sias’ sister?” inquired Susan. + +“Yes, honey, Uncle ’Sias’ sister, honey; Aunt Sally. But you needn’t be +feared of me, honey. I never does nothin’ to nobody.” + +“You don’t look so old as ’Sias,” said John, scrutinizing the little, +old woman. + +“Yes, marster, you’re right, honey. ’Sias do look old since he married +that young gal, Sereny. But he don’t mean no harm, honey. He never does +nothin’ to nobody.” + +“’Sias says he’s a hundred and fifty years old, ‘more or less,’” laughed +Em. + +“I know ’Sias do say that. I don’t know what make him say that. ’Sias +ain’t no more’n eighty-five. That’s my age, and we is twins.” + +“You and ’Sias twins?” exclaimed Susan. + +“Yes, honey; that’s what makes us bofe so little, I reckon; but we don’t +mean no harm by it. We nebber does nothin’ to nobody; me and ’Sias +don’t.” + +“I’m sure you don’t. Be satisfied. We are not disposed to think evil of +you,” said John. + +“I do thank you for that ’pinion, marster; an’ it a true one; ’cause we +nebber does nothin’ to nobody. An’ now I’ll go. Ebenin’, sar; ebenin’, +ma’am; ebenin’, young people. I’s gwine now.” + +And with these last words the queer little old woman took leave and went +away. + +The strong, industrious and hard-working Palmers, toiling together, soon +got their pleasant house in perfect order. And then they began to +realize how, without actually possessing wealth, they had come into all +the practical enjoyment of it. + +John’s duty was very light—it was only to look after the plantation; but +not to take any part in the hard labor. Susan’s office was still +lighter—to look after the women servants and see that the manor-house +was kept clean and well aired, and that all the work in their department +was well done. + +In compensation the Palmers had the free use of the comfortable house, +six hundred dollars a year, and all the family provisions from the +plantation that the household might require; and lastly, the privilege +of “exercising” the horses in the stable, either under the saddle or +before one of the rather dilapidated old carriages. + +The granaries supplied them with abundance of bread-stuffs; the dairies +with milk, cream and butter; the barnyard with poultry; the droves of +cattle and flocks of sheep with meat; the river below them with fish; +the garden with vegetables; the orchard with fruit, and the bee-hives +with honey; for, although the manor-house had been utterly neglected, +the farms and stock had been tolerably well kept up by the negroes, +under the occasional supervision of the agent. + +Besides all this, John and Susan had the privilege of selecting two +servants, a man and a woman, from the plantation for their own family +service—a privilege which they had not as yet availed themselves of, +having help enough within their own household. + +There were so many hands, indeed, that all their work was quietly and +easily done, leaving them much leisure for rest and recreation. + +John Palmer took the women and children in the capacious old carry-all +for long drives along the banks of the river or through the forest. + +Em. and the two boys learned to ride so well that they could always +attend the carry-all on horseback. + +Em. usually rode a little, silver-gray horse, which was her favorite +because it united the rare qualities of swiftness, gentleness, and +spirit, and which she named Pearl. She liked, on a fine summer +afternoon, to ride beside the carriage in going through the forest or +along the river banks and to listen or reply to the happy chatter of the +delighted children; but she liked even more than that to mount her +little horse and go for a solitary ride on the mountain, to explore +narrow, hidden, and forgotten paths, to startle the deer from its leafy +couch, or the eagle, screaming, from its dizzy perch; to find new Edens +of light and beauty, and even new Hades of gloom and grandeur. + +Em. enjoyed this life in the Wilderness more than any other member of +the family did, though they were all happier than they had ever been +before. + +There was, indeed, but one cloud on the sunshine of their lives—they +missed the pleasure of attending divine service on Sundays. + +There was no church within thirty miles of the manor-house. + +Certainly, by getting up at four o’clock on Sunday mornings and +harnessing two of the strongest draught horses to the largest carry-all, +John might have taken his family to Greyrock Chapel in time for the +morning service, at eleven o’clock, but that he had conscientious +scruples on the subject. He was a simple and literal interpreter of the +commandment, and he held that beasts of burden had as much right to +their Sabbath rest as mankind, and that to make them work by dragging +Christians to church was the inconsistency of worshiping the Lord by +disobeying him, and keeping the Sabbath holy by breaking it. We think +John was level-headed on that subject, as well as on some others. + +Em. begged him to go to the island and hear the blind preacher. But John +was strongly attached to the church in which he had been brought up, and +the forms with which he had been familiar from childhood. Besides, he +did not like worshiping in the open air—“the temple not made with +hands.” So John assembled his household in his own parlor every Sabbath +day and read the services. And he made himself contented until communion +Sunday drew near. + +Then, on the Saturday immediately preceding it, he said: + +“Susan, my dear, we are famishing for the bread of life. We must go to +church to-morrow, whether or no. Not that I intend to travel on that +day! No; but I tell you what we’ll do, my dear. We’ll go this afternoon, +and we’ll take vittals and horse feed enough to last us until Monday +morning, and we’ll camp out, like we did when we were on our journey. +It’s lovely weather for out-doors, Susan. What do you think of it +yourself?” + +“I think that will be very enjoyable, John.” + +“The young uns would like it.” + +“’Mazingly, John.” + +“Very well; you get the eating and sleeping conveniences all ready and +I’ll harness up the old wagon we traveled in, and I reckon we’ll leave +here about five o’clock and we’ll get to Greyrock by eleven to-night.” + +This plan was carried out then and continued, once a month, all the +summer and all the autumn, as long as the weather permitted. + +Em. always went with the family when they traveled so far to church; but +on other Sundays she went to the gate-house, propitiated Sereny by the +gift of a little bit of bright ribbon, or a string of glass beads, and +so borrowed old ’Sias from his lawful proprietor to take her down the +river to hear the blind preacher of the island. + +One day as they floated down the stream before a gentle breeze, old +’Sias said to her: + +“Miss Em., why don’t yer larn to manage de boat yourse’f? It is one ob +de easiest things to larn and one ob de ’lightfullest things to know. It +would be a great divarsion to yerse’f in the weeky days, when yer can’t +hab me to wait on yer.” + +“Oh, I should like that so much! Would it be a great deal of trouble to +you to teach me?” exclaimed the girl. + +“Why, laws, no, honey! none.” + +So, then and there, ’Sias gave Em. her first lesson in handling the +tiller and steering the boat. + +When they landed he showed her how to lower the sail. + +After the preaching, when they were about to return home, he showed her +how to hoist the sail, and as they ran up the river he taught her how to +trim it. + +“And sometimes, Miss Em., when dere’s too much wind, or no wind at all, +yer can ship de little mast and furl de sail and take de oars. I mus’ +teach you some day how to row.” + +“Oh, do!” said Em. “I should like that ever so much!” + +The old man kept his word, and soon Em. became quite an expert in the +use of the oars as well as in the management of the sail-boat. + +Every Sunday, attended by old ’Sias, she went to the island preaching, +and sometimes during the week, when she could get away, she went alone +down to the boat, hoisted the little sail and steered for the island or +for some point on the shore. + +It gave her a new and delightful sense of freedom to feel that she had +the power to move over the surface of the water and go from place to +place at her pleasure. + +“I am a bird when I fly through the forest or over the mountains on +horseback, and I am a fish when I speed through the waters in my boat!” +she gleefully exclaimed to herself one morning in August as she steered +for the island. + +She had never yet landed at the island on any week day or on any other +occasion than to attend the preaching of the blind minister. She had at +such times kept a bright lookout for the mysterious beauty known to +popular superstition as the White Spirit; but she had seen no sign of +such a being. She had heard it rumored, indeed, that the lady would not +come to the island this season. + +Now, therefore, on this cool August morning an impulse suddenly moved +Em. to steer directly for the island, to land there, go up to the palace +and try to get permission from the housekeeper to view the interior once +more, and especially to look upon the portrait of the White Spirit. + +The wind was in her favor; the little sail filled and the boat was +wafted swiftly down stream to the landing-place at the island. + +Em. furled her sail, moored her boat, and stepped out upon the pretty +path that led first through the girdle of acacias and then through the +ring of silver maples, and thence up the ornamented terraces among +groves, fountains, arbors, statues, and parterres of flowers to the +beautiful high knoll on which the white mansion stood. + +She remembered the way taken by old ’Sias when he borrowed the key from +the housekeeper, and so she followed the path around to the rear of the +premises, where she was so fortunate as to find the woman—a very +handsome mulatto, sitting on an arbor, engaged in needlework. + +“Good-morning,” said Em., who had approached so softly that her presence +was not perceived until she spoke. + +“Lord bless my soul alive! Who _is_ you, anyhow, young lady?” exclaimed +the woman, but there was more of surprise, even of amazement, than of +offence in her manner. + +“I startled you, I fear,” said Em. with a smile. + +“Well, I should think you did. Who _is_ you, honey, to be sure, then?” + +“Only Em. Palmer, one of the new overseer’s daughters from the +Wilderness.” + +“Oh, yes! To be sure!” exclaimed the woman, but without ceasing to stare +at the visitor. + +“I came upon you too suddenly. You seemed to be in a reverie. But I came +to ask you, if it is not asking too much, to permit me to see the inside +of the house,” said Em. with some bashful hesitation. + +“Oh, yes, chile, you can see the house. Any one can see it without +reserve at any time, ’cept when my mistress is at home, and even then +they can see every part of it except her chamber. Yes, chile, here is +the key of the front door. Go in and look for yourself.” + +“Thank you very much. I only want to see the drawing-room, with the +portrait of your mistress. It _is_ the portrait of your mistress, is it +not?” + +“It’s like her, honey, if you mean the white veiled figure in the +drawing-room.” + +“Thank you,” said Em. again, as she received the key and turned to go +around to the front. + +She unlocked the door and entered the hall, and then passed immediately +to the elegant drawing-room, upholstered in white, blue and silver. + +She scarcely glanced at the splendors of this saloon, but went +immediately up to the figure and stood gazing at it with uplifted eyes +and clasped hands and eager mind, anxious to read the mystery of this +veiled face, whose wonderful, fair beauty could be traced even behind +the mist of the flowing white gauze. She stood thus until startled by a +voice at her elbow: + +“That is a most wonderful picture, is it not?” + +Em. turned suddenly and stood face to face with Ronald Bruce. + + + + + CHAPTER V + RONALD BRUCE + + Handsome as Hercules, ere his first labor. + ANON. + + +Ronald Bruce! Yes, it was he. There he stood, taller, browner, and +stouter, and, withal, handsomer than he had ever been before. + +They recognized each other in one mutual, instantaneous, astonished +gaze. + +“Miss Palmer! You here! What a surprise! I did not know it was you until +you turned your face. I am _very_ glad to see you!” exclaimed the young +man heartily, offering his hand. + +But he looked full of curiosity and interest, as if he would have liked +to ask her how on earth she ever came there, if the question had been +admissible. + +Em.’s expressive face flushed and paled as she received his hand. + +“I hope I did not frighten you,” continued the young lieutenant, seeing +that she did not speak. + +“Oh, no, not much—that is, not at all,” faltered the girl in blushing +confusion. + +“You did not in the least expect to meet me here, however,” said Ronald +Bruce, fixing his honest, dark eyes smilingly upon her roseate face. + +“Oh, no; but I am very much pleased to meet you here,” said Em., +beginning to recover her self-possession and speaking with all the more +formal politeness because of her conscious embarrassment. + +“Are you really? Then this is a mutual pleasure as well as a mutual +surprise. Being in the neighborhood, and hearing of this beautiful +place, I came this morning to see it. I met the housekeeper, who told me +that the doors were open, as there was another person inside viewing the +rooms. I came in and found you.” + +“I have been here once before. I like to come.” + +“It is a very attractive place—but do not stand!” suddenly exclaimed the +young man as he went off and wheeled up a short sofa before the picture. + +“Now sit down, Miss Palmer, and I will explain how I happen to be in +this neighborhood.” + +She seated herself with a bow of thanks, and he, leaning over the arm of +the sofa, continued: + +“I am on a three months’ leave, and I have come to spend it with my +uncle, Commodore Bruce, who has been placed on the retired list, and is +living at a fine old place called The Breezes, on the west bank of the +river, about half way between this and a queer old manor called the +Wilderness. Perhaps you may know both, if you have been here long.” + +“Yes, I have seen The Breezes from the river. It is a long, gray stone +house on a plateau half way up the mountain side, half hidden, also, by +trees, and with a fountain gushing from the rocks at the right and +tumbling all the way down from ledge to ledge until it falls into the +river.” + +“That is the place. The house, as you say, stands upon a natural plateau +about half way up the mountain. The commodore calls the plateau a shelf, +and says that it is all right that a worn-out old veteran like himself +should be laid upon the shelf. But I am sorry that he is retired from +the navy. He needed that active life more than any man I ever knew.” + +“Why?” inquired Em. + +“To occupy his mind and make him forget his troubles. He has had so much +trouble. He lost all his children in their childhood, with the exception +of one, who lived to be about eighteen years old, and was then lost on +the _Eagle_, when that fine ship was wrecked on the coast of Morocco.” + +“Oh, what a terrible misfortune!” sighed Em. + +“That catastrophe broke his wife’s heart. She died within a few weeks +after the news of the wreck came. And now for years past the brave old +man has been a childless widower. Still I think he bore up much better +when in active service than he does now, for since his retirement he has +been subject to fits of deepest melancholy. I spend all the time I can +with him; but I am only his nephew. I cannot take the place of his son.” + +“I know you must be a great comfort to him, for all that,” said Em., in +earnest sympathy. + +“I don’t know. He wants me to resign my commission in the navy and live +with him altogether.” + +“Oh, I wish you would! I wish you would!” impulsively exclaimed the +girl. And then she suddenly recollected herself and blushed deeply at +her own impetuous words. + +“Most certainly I will do so, since you wish it!” replied the young man +with so much comic solemnity that Em. broke into a peal of silvery +laughter. Then growing grave in her turn she said: + +“I do not think you ought to make fun of what I said, Mr. Bruce.” + +“‘Fun!’ You think I am jesting?” + +“Of course I do. You certainly do not mean to say that you are in +earnest.” + +“Indeed I do—that is, if—do you know that I have never ceased to think +of you since that day I first met you?” he whispered earnestly. + +Em. flushed and paled and began to tremble. + +“Never ceased to think of you, and longed to see you again. And now I do +see you, I wish never to lose sight of you more. Do you understand me, +little Em.?” he breathed, trying to take her hand; but she withdrew it +gently and folded her arms. + +“There, I will not touch your hand if you do not wish me to do so. But +do you understand me, dear little Em.?” + +“I—think—I—Oh! but——” muttered the girl, incoherently, and every moment +growing more and more confused and—distressed or delighted, she could +hardly know which, so mixed were her emotions. + +“This is what I mean, dear girl—that your presence in the neighborhood +makes the place so much more attractive to me that, if you are to be a +permanent resident of the county, I shall indeed be strongly tempted to +forego all my cherished hopes of a career in the navy and be delighted +to settle down with my uncle at his retreat.” + +“Just to see me once in a while?” inquired Em. in low, tremulous, +incredulous tones. + +“Just to see you as often as I may be permitted to do so. You are to +live here, then, I am to understand?” + +“Yes; at the Wilderness. My father is the new overseer.” + +“In-deed!” slowly responded Ronald Bruce. + +“Yes,” replied Em., recovering some self-possession now that the +conversation was turned from her personally. “We are all there—father, +mother, all my brothers and sisters, the little Italian girl, Valencia, +and Mrs. Whitlock and Aunt Monica.” + +“Heaven and earth! Your father is a practical communist, with the +unprecedented peculiarity of keeping up the commune at his own expense. +So the little orphan is still with you?” + +“Oh, yes; but she does not feel that she is an orphan. She is one of +ourselves. We all love her dearly, and do all we can to make her forget +she was ever anything else. Why, do you know, she has a high little +spirit of her own, and the first time she showed it by slapping Molly in +the face for combin her hair roughly we were all delighted, for we said +to ourselves: + +“‘Now we _know_ she feels quite at home.’” + +“Hum,” gravely commented Ronald Bruce. “Was Molly delighted, too?” + +Em. laughed. + +“No,” she answered. “It took all the house to mollify Molly; and for a +long time it was in vain that we explained what a good sign that was! +oh, of course, we know that it was naughty, and that very night, at +prayer-time, father gave out the children’s hymn, ‘Let dogs delight to +bark and bite,’ for them all to learn by heart against the next +Sabbath.” + +“How do you like living at the Wilderness?” + +“Oh, so much! So very much! We have such a good time! Plenty of clean +space and fresh, sweet air. Plenty of well water and cool shade. +Abundance of fruit and milk and everything we need. And the forest all +around the house and the mountains behind and the river before. We +children have learned to ride and drive, for the many horses standing in +the stables have to be exercised. And I have learned to row and to +manage a sail-boat. Oh, it is so delightful! After Laundry Lane, to be +here is like having died to the earth and come to heaven!” exclaimed +Em., with such enthusiasm that the young man smiled ruefully and said: + +“And, in fact, you are so perfectly happy that you do not need even the +presence of an old friend like me to add to your happiness—no, not even +though he is willing to resign a glorious career and stay here for your +sake. You do not want him.” + +“Oh, yes, indeed, indeed I do!” exclaimed Em. impulsively, and then she +clapped her hands over her own lips that no more hasty words might escape +them, as she turned pale at the thought of their earnestness. + +“That settles my destiny,” said the young lieutenant. + +“Oh, I must go now,” murmured the girl, rising to her feet and throwing +over her head a light gossamer shawl that had been knit by her own +hands. + +“Ah, not yet! Stay a little longer,” pleaded the young man. + +“Oh, _indeed_ I must go now. I have duties to do at home,” persisted Em. +as she shook the white gossamer shawl down over her shoulders until it +flowed around her form like a mist. + +“Stop! One moment! Good Heaven, what a resemblance!” exclaimed Ronald +Bruce, gazing at Em. and then at the picture of the veiled lady. + +“What? Oh! between me and the portrait? Yes, it has been remarked +before,” said Em. + +“I did not notice it until that flowing mantle of yours called my +attention to it; but the resemblance is perfect in every feature of the +face; Is it accidental, or are you perhaps a distant relation of the +original?” + +“It is accidental. I never even saw the original of that portrait, who I +understand to be the lady of this island manor.” + +“A strange coincidence of form and feature. You are not going?” he +inquired, seeing Em. moving toward the door. + +“Oh, yes, I must. Good-by.” + +“No, I will see you to your boat.” + +“But you have not been through the house you came to look at.” + +“I can go through the house another time. I will see you to your boat, +unless you forbid me to do so.” + +She did not forbid him, and so he followed her out, and when he had +returned the key to the keeper he attended her down through the +beautiful groves of the isle to the landing where she had moored her +boat. + +“Do you mean to say that you sailed from the Wilderness alone in that +boat?” + +“Yes, why should I not?” + +“Suppose an accident had happened?” + +“They tell me that no accident ever was known to have happened on the +Placid. Even if there had been an accident, at the very worst I could +only have been drowned. And is it worth while to refrain from any +harmless and healthful enjoyment for the fear of a possible accident?” + +“Well, no, you are right. But it is rare to find a young girl so +skillful and fearless in managing a sail-boat. Who taught you?” + +“An old philosopher who is called ’Sias, and keeps the gates at the +Wilderness,” said Em. as she began to unmoor her boat. + +“No, no, let me do that. I should have done it before, but that I did +not wish to hasten the time of your departure—like dropping the +handkerchief for my own execution, you know,” said the young man as he +took the task out of her hands and performed it himself. + +Then he handed her into the boat, hoisted the sail and took the tiller +and said: + +“I hope you will let me go with you as far as our course separates—that +is, to the landing below our place—though, if you feel the very least +objection to my doing so, say it frankly and I will leave,” he added. + +“I have no objection at all. I thank you very much; but what will become +of your own boat that brought you here?” inquired Em., half pleased, +half frightened at his proposal. + +“Oh, I came in a little row-boat. I can send a servant down here in +another boat to tow this back. Come, be charitable, and take me in. I am +tired of rowing, and to row up stream will be much harder work than it +was to row down.” + +Em. hesitated for a moment and communed with herself to this effect. + +“I would not refuse _any other_ person a seat in my boat, and why, now, +should I refuse this gentleman, who has been kinder to me than most +people? I will _not_ refuse him. It would be unkind, ungrateful and +impolite.” + +“Shall I go?” inquired Ronald Bruce. + +“Oh, no, pray do not. Keep your seat, sir,” said Em., all the more +graciously because she had hesitated. + +“Ay, ay, sir,” said the young officer, laughingly touching his hat. + +He took the tiller again and steered for the Wilderness, while Em. sat +opposite to him with her idle hands before her. + +“Now you know that you are captain of this boat, and I am only the man +at the helm, under your command. I will steer where you order me and +stop when you tell me,” said Ronald Bruce. + +“No,” replied Em., “when I resigned the helm I resigned the command. I +decline the responsibility you would force upon me. I am only a +passenger.” + +“Very well,” said the man at the helm, “then here we go!” and, unknown +to Em., he shot past the landing below The Breezes and steered for the +Wilderness. + +“Why, where are you going?” inquired Em. when at last she perceived his +course. + +“To take you home to your landing at the foot of the Wilderness and then +walk with you up to the house to see your father and mother.” + +“I declare you are like the fox in the fable of the fox and the hare,” +said Em. to herself, but to him she only put a question: + +“How will you get back?” + +“Oh, walk it—The Breezes being on the same side of the river with the +Wilderness, you know.” + +“Oh, yes, to be sure!” replied the girl, and upon every account she was +very glad that Ronald Bruce was going straight home with her, for thus +she would have his company for an hour or two longer, and then he would +see the family, and they would all know how he came home with her, and +all would be frank, open, and straightforward. + +“You are very kind to me, Mr. Bruce, and you always were. I know my +mother and father will be very glad to welcome you,” she said. + +They soon reached the island landing, where Ronald Bruce lowered the +sail, moored the boat, and would have given his hand to help his +companion out, but she, unaccustomed to any such assistance, without +waiting for it, sprang lightly to the shore. + +He joined her immediately, and they entered the forest road and walked +toward the house. It was now so near sunset that the sun had sunk out of +sight behind the mountain range, casting the wooded valley into a +premature twilight. + +The young pair did not hurry themselves, but walked in a leisurely way +through the deepening shades of the forest until they reached the +manor-house. + +Em. then led her companion around to the rear, where they found John and +all the family sitting before the door of the Red Wing enjoying the +coolness of the August evening. + +“Well, little truant, where have you been all the afternoon, and who is +that you have got with you?” inquired John Palmer as Em. and her escort +approached. + +“I have been all this time on the river, and at the island, father, and +I have brought an old friend home whom you and mother will be glad to +see—Lieutenant Ronald Bruce,” said Em. + +Young Bruce lifted his cap and advanced. + +But almost before he could take a step the little Italian girl, +Valencia, with a great cry of joy rushed forward and clasped him with +both little arms, calling him, in her enthusiastic language, her +illustrious, her beneficent, her beloved, her caressed, and so forth, +and so forth. + +Ronald Bruce responded heartily, lifted her in his arms and kissed and +blessed her, and then put her gently down and went forward to greet John +and Susan Palmer, who both received him very cordially and pressed him +to be seated and to stay to tea. + +Ronald Bruce in look and manner showed his willingness to do so at the +same time that he explained his inability by saying that he was obliged +to start immediately, as he had to walk back through the forest and half +way up the mountain to The Breezes, where he was then staying with his +uncle, Commodore Bruce. + +“Well, there,” said John Palmer; “we did hear that a retired naval +officer had taken that old place, but we never heard his name. So it was +the commodore. Well, sir, his place, I should say, was a good ten miles +from here by the road; it is a great deal nearer by the river. Now, sir, +there’s no need for you to walk it at all. If so be you must go back, +why, there’s a dozen horses in the stable needing exercise, the best of +’em heartily at your service. But—would the old gentleman be anxious if +you was to stay out all night?” + +“Oh, no!” laughed the young man. “He retires to his study so early that +he would not know it.” + +“Well, then, sir, here’s my offer to you—the best horse in the stable if +you _must_ go; or a hearty welcome to the best room in the house if you +can stay,” said John cordially. + +“Do stay, Mr. Bruce. We should all be happy to have you,” added Susan +Palmer, glad of the chance to offer hospitality. + +The little Italian girl caught his hand and held it tightly while she +lifted her dark, bright, eager eyes pleadingly to his. + +But Ronald Bruce sought the eyes of Em., which said nothing, their +glance being fixed upon the ground. + +Nevertheless, the young man thanked the hospitable couple and accepted +their invitation as frankly as it was given. + + + + + CHAPTER VI + THE GUEST + + Welcome he is in hut and hall, + To maids and matrons, men and all. + PRAED. + + +To the isolated family in the Wilderness Manor the sight of a stranger +was a rare event, and the entertainment of a guest an unprecedented one. +So Ronald Bruce’s frank acceptance of their cordial invitation to stay +to supper and spend the night threw every member of the household into a +flutter of excitement. + +Susan Palmer, signing to Em. to keep her seat and entertain her visitor, +arose and withdrew into the house. + +Ann Whitlock and old Monica got up and followed her. + +And the three women stood together in the kitchen and held a council of +cookery as to what should be provided for so “distinguished” a guest. + +“Now you jest leab it all to _me_, chillun, and ’range yourselbes +underneaf my orders for de night, and I jest tell yer all what, I’ll +jest ’vide sich a supper as will make dat young man thank his blessed +stars as he missed his dinner at home—which he must a-missed, yer know, +’cause all dem dere big bugs allers eats deir dinner ’bout de time we +all thinkin’ ’bout gwine to bed,” said Monica confidently. + +“And you really think you can cook a supper that he will enjoy?” +anxiously inquired Susan. + +“Hush, honey, what’s yer talkin’ ’bout? He mus’ be a dreat deal harder +to please dan his ole uncle was if I can’t. Wasn’t I cook to ole Marse +Capt’n Wyndeworth, at Green Point? And didn’t ole Marse Capt’n Bruce +come to dinner and supper dere two or t’ree times a week? And where +would you find two greater epitaphs dan dey was? G’way from here, +chillun, and let me get de supper,” exclaimed the old woman. + +And truly, with the resources of the rich Wilderness Manor, with the aid +of the well filled smoke houses, poultryyards, dairies, gardens and +orchards, old Monica found materials worthy even of her culinary +science. + +Then leaving the cook to get supper Susan Palmer and Ann Whitlock went +upstairs and prepared the largest and best bedchamber (usually reserved +for the use of the agent) for the accommodation of their guest. + +Meanwhile the party gathered under the trees in front of the house, +conversing gayly together, enjoying the cool evening air. + +John Palmer, who was as innocent and unconventional as a child in the +matter of asking questions, drew out the frank young officer to speak +freely of his own circumstances. + +When Susan Palmer had finished her task in the house and rejoined the +circle under the trees, John was saying: + +“And so the old gentleman wants you to resign your commission in the +navy and to spend your life with him, does he?” + +“Yes. You see it is not from selfishness on his part, but from +affection. The terrible disaster through which he lost his only son at +sea has so wrought upon his mind that he dreads to trust any one he +loves to the career of a sailor,” the young man explained. + +“Ay, ay,” said John, “‘sich is life.’ And you say that he promises, if +you will resign your commission in the navy and stay with him for the +short remainder of his life, he will leave you The Breezes and all his +other property at his death?” + +“Yes.” + +“Have you a loving for the sea?” + +“Yes.” + +“Well, then, if I was you I wouldn’t give it up. Not for filthy lucre, I +wouldn’t! It is an honorable career, the navy, and some _must_ follow it +and risk their lives, and, if need be, lose their lives; for ‘sich _is_ +life.’ Put it to the old gentleman that way. Tell him _he_ wouldn’t +a-done it when _he_ was a young man, and why then should he want you to? +Tell him you will spend all your leaves with him, and that you don’t +want his money; you want an honorable naval career. There, young +gentleman, tell him that.” + +Ronald Bruce smiled at the simplicity and freedom with which honest John +Palmer gave advice involving the loss or gain of a large estate, but was +saved the trouble of replying by his wife Susan, who struck into the +conversation with: + +“But law, John, the old gentleman’s _feelings_ ought to be considered +_some_. It ain’t _all_ a question of money, nor it ain’t all a question +of honor; but of kindness and of feelings.” + +“We be talking of principles, my dear, not feelings. But there, what’s +the use of arguing? Men will be guided by principles and women by +feelings while the world stands, for ‘sich is life.’ And youth will be +guided by its own wayward will. This young gentleman will do as he +pleases, after all.” + +Ronald Bruce laughed, but did not commit himself. + +Em. was perfectly silent. And the deepening twilight threw her beautiful +face into such dark shadow that her lover could not see its expression. + +John Palmer started another topic by speaking of the island and the +mysterious stranger who owned it. + +“They say as she is as fair as an angel of light; but how can they tell +that, since nobody has ever seen her face unveiled?” said John. + +“I know nothing about her,” replied the guest, “except what the gossip +of the country people tell me, which may not be true.” + +They discoursed concerning the White Spirit until one of the boys came +out of the house and whispered to his mother that supper was on the +table. + +Susan Palmer arose in good, old-fashioned, rustic style and invited her +guest to walk in and partake, adding, with polite hypocrisy, that she +hoped he would excuse the plainness of fare they had to set before him. + +Young Bruce laughed as he replied that there was no doubt the viands +were excellent in themselves and much better than he deserved—and so, +with the custom of _his_ class, he offered his arm to Mrs. Palmer to +take her to supper. + +Susan accepted it and marched in. + +John looked on with an amused smile, and then gravely took Em.’s hand +and tucked it under his arm and followed into the spacious dining-room +of the old house, where his first words were an exclamation of honest +astonishment: + +“OH, MY!” + +It cannot be denied that the table and the supper were a triumph of +decorative art and culinary science—adorned with the choicest flowers of +the conservatory, and laden with the daintiest luxuries of the season. +But covers were laid for four only—for John, Susan, Em. and their guest. + +“For,” said Aunt Monica, in consultation with Mrs. Whitlock, “you an’ de +chillun will ’joy yourselves a dreat deal more eatin’ of your fill ’long +of yourselves dan siftin’ down dere, ’shamed to eat as much as you want +’fore de quality.” + +Ann Whitlock and the young people fully agreed with Aunt Monica’s view +of the case, for with them feeding was always the most serious business +of life, at which they wanted no disturbing or restraining influence; +and here indeed was a feast not to be slighted on account of any company +in the world, but to be discussed at liberty and enjoyed at leisure. + +So the party of four sat down to an epicure’s supper and did it full +justice. + +Young Bruce complimented Mrs. Palmer upon the excellence of her dishes, +whereupon poor Susan, with much pride, answered: + +“Well, sir, it is not much to say to _you_; but our old Aunt Monica was +chief cook to old Captain Wyndeworth, who was one of the greatest +epitaphs in the country.” + +Ronald’s dark mustache quivered for a moment with the humorous smile +that was hovering around his lips; but that smile vanished when he saw +the distressed face of poor Em., who sat directly opposite him. + +John saw all and understood half, saying to himself: + +“Now the old ’oman has put her foot in it somehow or other; but what +odds? ‘Sich is life.’” + +Young Bruce had tact enough to change the subject and lead the +conversation into such channels of entertainment and amusement that the +face of Em. soon lost its look of care and pain, lighted up with +interest and beamed with pleasure. + +And the little, half perceived cloud having vanished, the dainty supper +passed off very pleasantly. + +When they rose from the table, John led the way to the front piazza, +saying: + +“I couldn’t advise you to sit under the trees at this hour, sir. The +dews are heavy at this season.” + +The young man took the offered seat from his host and sat down in the +summer night’s sweet gloom, holding the hand of Em., who, unseen, sat +near him and good-naturedly answering the child-like questions of honest +John, who wanted to know if he had ever been to Africa. If he could tell +anything about the slave trade on the coast of Guinea. If he had ever +been to the Mediterranean. If he knew much about the pirates of the +coast of Barbary. And were there really wreckers there who rescued +shipwrecked passengers from the deep only to carry them off inland and +sell them into slavery? Had he ever doubled the Cape of Good Hope, and +were there really chunks of solid gold to be found there as big as pigs +of lead? And diamonds large as lumps of coal? Had he ever doubled Cape +Horn? And was there truly a land of fire there, corresponding to the +land of ice in Iceland, say? + +Young Ronald Bruce had been to sea in some capacity or other ever since +he was ten years old. So he had seen all these places, and was able to +answer all these questions, and many more, that were put to him during +the evening. + +His patience was inexhaustible while he held the slender, delicate +little hand of Em. within his own. + +But these honest people were early birds, and very soon Susan Palmer +suggested that their guest must be weary by this time and would perhaps +like to be shown to his room. + +Upon this hint John arose, lighted a tallow candle and offered to +conduct Mr. Bruce to his chamber. + +Young Ronald pressed the little hand that he held in the darkness and +arose, bade the two women good-night and followed his host into the +house. + +John, flaring tallow candle in hand, led the way up a plain, wide +staircase to the second floor and to a large, old-fashioned back room, +with paneled walls and polished plank floor, with tall windows looking +full upon the precipice, and so near it that one leaning out might peel +a piece of moss from the rock. + +The room was lighted by two “mould” candles in tall, silver-plated +candlesticks that stood upon the top of a high, antique chest of drawers +and on each side of a tall, oval mirror. + +The woodwork of all the furniture in the room, of the high post, +canopied bedsteads, the antique chest of drawers, the ancient press, or +wardrobe, the old escritoire, or bookcase and writing desk combined, the +claw-footed sofa, the high-backed, hard “easy-chair,” and the +spider-legged chairs and tables were all of the oldest and darkest +mahogany. + +The draperies of the room, the curtains at the windows and the bedstead, +the covers of the chairs and the sofa were all of English chintz, of +large pattern, and once of “loud” colors, but now toned down to a +general hue of faded flowers. + +“I see you looking around on the room with curiosity, sir. Yes, it _is_ +old-timey! I reckon if these here old sticks of furniture had a tongue +they could tell a tale—don’t you?” inquired John, as he placed his +candlestick upon the high mantel-shelf. + +“Yes, doubtless,” mused Ronald Bruce. + +“But this is nothing to the manor-house, sir, though they do say this is +older than that. But if you want to see a rale, gorgeous, old, ancient +palace you come some day and see the manor-house, sir. Why, for one +thing, there is a picture, large as life, of a court lady of the time of +King David or Queen Mary, or some king or queen, I don’t remember which; +but anyhow, it is hundreds of years ago, and the splendid colors are as +bright and fresh as if it was painted only yesterday. But I am keeping +you from sleep, sir; good-night,” said John, with a smile, as he took up +his light to retire. + +“Good-night, and many thanks for all your kind attentions,” returned the +young man. + +When John Palmer reached the family sitting-room he found all the +household gathered around the table as a common center, discussing the +merits of their guest. + +“He is really one of the most gentlemanly young men I ever saw in my +life,” said Susan. + +“Hi, honey, what yer talkin’ ’bout! Ain’t he one ob de Bruces? An’ dey +do tell me as the Bruces are ’cended from some r’yal fam’ly or other. +Not dat I know, but so I hab heerd,” said Aunt Monica. + +“There was a great hero named Robert Bruce, who became king of Scotland +in the old, old times, but there were also a large tribe of Bruces. So +how can any one tell? But as for this young gentleman, it does not +matter in the least whether he is descended from a king or a carter, _he +is himself_; that is the best he could possibly be,” said Em. earnestly. + +“He is an honest, straightforward young fellow enough; and you are +right, my girl; it don’t matter two straws _who_ he is descended from,” +added John. + +“Well, chillun, as de heat and burden ob entertainin’ ob dis young +ge’man falls onto my ole shoulders, and I hab to get up in de mornin’ to +cook a fust-chop, out-an’-out breakfast for him, _I’m_ a-gwine to bed. +Tell yer all what, it’s desaustin’ to de system cookin’ for dese here +epitaphs!” said old Aunt Monica. + +“Oh, Aunty!” exclaimed Em., as if she had received a stab, so keen was +the recollection of the error of the supper table—“Oh, Aunty, not +epi_taph_, you mean epi_cure_! Epitaphs are put on tombstones, and +epicures——” + +“Are put _under_ them! So what odds? ‘Sich is life,’” said John. + +“Yes, but I want her to remember this, father, dear. Aunt Monica, _will_ +you remember that people who love delicate and dainty food are +epi_cures_ and not epi_taphs_?” pleaded Em. + +“Yes, honey, I’ll try,” said old Monica, and she remembered the +emphasized syllables so well that thenceforth she put them together, and +when she had occasion to speak of a gourmand she called him a curataph. + +John called the children around him for their evening prayers; and after +these had been offered up the simple, kindly people bade each other +good-night and retired to rest. + + + + + CHAPTER VII + A PROPOSAL + + I see a small, old-fashioned room, + With paneled wainscot high; + Old portraits round in order set, + Carved, heavy tables, chairs, buffets, + Of dark mahogany. + And there a high-backed, hard settee + On six brown legs and paws, + Flowered o’er with silk embroidery; + And there, all rough with filigree, + Tall screens on gilded claws. + CAROLINE SOUTHEY. + + +When young Ronald Bruce awoke in the morning he found all things +prepared for his toilet by the care of the two boys, who had brought +fresh water and towels for their guest while he slept. + +He arose and dressed himself before the tall mirror on the chest of +drawers that stood between the two back windows looking out upon the +precipice. + +Just before leaving his room he leaned from the window and plucked a +wild mountain rose that grew in the cleft of the rock and placed it in +his buttonhole. + +Then he went downstairs to find his way to the parlor. + +He found the little Italian girl, Vennie, in the hall below. With the +impetuosity of her age and nation she rushed to him, threw herself into +his arms, calling him by the most extravagant pet names that her +hyperbolical language afforded. + +He responded to all her enthusiastic caresses, and then allowed her to +lead him into an old-fashioned, oak-paneled front parlor that looked out +upon the garden of the old manor-house, and beyond that upon the section +of the wooded vale with its wall of mountains and its far down glimpse +of the river. + +Here he found the breakfast table neatly set and Em. herself flitting +from cupboard to kitchen, back and forth, putting finishing touches to +its arrangement. + +She paused suddenly in her work to greet him as he entered. + +He noticed the lovely flush and the timid smile that lighted up her face +as she offered her hand and her low-toned “good-morning.” + +He took the delicate hand and raised it to his lips, while her eyes +dropped and her color deepened under the eloquent gaze he fixed on her +face. + +But before he could speak a word John entered with boisterous cordiality +and greeted his guest. Since coming to the country and entering upon a +happier and more prosperous manner of life, John’s nature had risen out +of its subdued sadness into something very like hilariousness. + +Susan soon followed him; breakfast was brought in, and the four sat down +to the table. + +Old Monica waited on them. + +“I hope the old commodore won’t be up early enough this morning to +inquire after you and grow anxious before you get home,” said blunt +John. + +“Oh, no, my uncle rises very late. It is a habit he has grown into since +his retirement from the navy,” smilingly replied the young man. + +“You didn’t tell me whether there was any one else at The Breezes to +keep the old gentleman company,” said Palmer. + +“Oh, a house full. My mother is there, and his sister, and her daughter, +and two lady friends,” said Ronald Bruce. + +“A nice party for a country house, I should say. But, dear me, five +ladies and only one young gentleman to take care of them! You must have +your hands quite full, sir,” exclaimed John in comic dismay. + +“Oh. not at all! My uncle relieves me—plays whist, reads, drives and +tells stories. I assure you, he is the more popular of the two of us,” +laughed Ronald, as they rose from the table. + +“Well, Lieutenant, whenever you are disposed, by way of a little change, +to leave high life and ladies’ society for a plain man’s company and +table, we shall all be very glad and grateful to have you here,” +heartily declared John. + +“Thanks, very much. Now, however, I shall have to bid you a happy +good-morning,” replied Ronald. + +“Stay. I will order your horse,” exclaimed Palmer, hurrying from the +room. + +Susan had already left it temporarily to see to some household affairs. + +The young lovers were alone. + +“Oh, my little fairy of the forest, when shall I see you again?” he +breathed in a low sigh, as he took her hand and looked into her face. + +She dropped her eyes, but did not reply. + +“When shall I see you again, Em.?” he pleaded. + +“When you come again. Father said he would be glad to have you,” she +murmured without raising her eyes. + +“And _you_, will you be glad to see me?” + +Susan Palmer bustled into the room before the girl could reply. + +Ronald dropped Em.’s hand and turned away. + +John came in and announced the horses, for there were two. + +“I have ordered a groom to attend you, sir, that he may bring back the +beasts without giving you any trouble,” Palmer explained. + +“You give yourself a great deal of trouble, my friend,” said Ronald. + +“No, the animals need exercise. I am glad of the chance of giving it to +them. Between you and me, sir, two-thirds of their number ought to be +sold, and so I have told the agent time and again. What good do they do +standing in their stalls? Well, sir, Lord bless you!” said John, +heartily shaking the offered hand of his departing guest. + +Ronald Bruce then took leave of Susan and of Em., holding the girl’s +hand a little while in hope that she would raise her blue eyes once to +his own. + +But she did not, so he pressed the little hand and left her. + +Then Em. slipped out of the room and flew up to her attic chamber and +placed herself at the window which commanded a view of the mountain path +by which Ronald Bruce left the house. + +She saw him ride away slowly up the mountain until he reached the +entrance of an evergreen thicket, which would soon conceal him from +view. + +There he paused and turned to look back at the house which contained his +idol. To Em.’s dismay his eyes caught her as she watched him from the +window. He raised his hat, bowed very low and rode slowly and +reluctantly into the thicket, where he disappeared. + +Em. remained at the window, gazing up the now deserted mountain path, +lost in thought. + +“To think that he should have remembered me so long! To think he, a +cultured and refined man of good family, should care for me so much—for +me, the child of a workman; a poor, half educated girl! Yet he _does_ +care for me. But, oh! I wish he had not held my hand so long or dropped +it so suddenly when poor mother came in. If there was any harm in his +holding my hand, why _did_ he hold it? Or if there was _no_ harm, why +did he drop it so quickly? I don’t understand! I wonder what will come +of it all! Oh, how I do wish I could look into the future!” + +“EM.!” + +She started from her dreamy reverie. It was her mother’s voice calling +loudly from the foot of the stairs. + +“Yes, ma’am; I’m coming directly,” she answered, as she hurried down +from the attic. + +Susan was at the foot of the stairs. + +“Where have you been all this time, girl?” + +“Only upstairs, mother.” + +“There’s a whole basket full of stockings to darn, and you ought to have +been at it an hour ago; only this having a visitor puts everything back; +not but what he was a very agreeable young man, too,” said Susan Palmer, +as she led the way, followed by her daughter, to the family +sitting-room, where just then a patch-work quilt was stretched out in +the frame, and all the women and girls of the house, except Em. and her +mother, were seated at it, industriously quilting. + +Susan joined the quilters and Em. sat down to her basket of stockings. + +So the family routine was taken up again. + +Days passed, and the visit of young Ronald Bruce was nearly forgotten by +all the busy family except Em., who, more was the pity, thought of him +all day and dreamed of him all night. + +“I can’t think what has come over the child!” said John. “She is so +silent.” + +“She wants amusement. She wants some change. Some companions of her own +age. She is not a child any longer, but a young woman,” said Susan. + +“Well, I know; but she can drive, and she can ride, and she can row,” +said John; “and she used to be very fond of doing that when she first +came down here.” + +“Oh, yes, it was all new to her then; but it is all played out now. Em. +wants the company of young people of her own age. Here she has only old +folks and children.” + +“Well, poor gal, I wish I could give her all she wants,” sighed John. + +“Where is she now?” + +“Sitting out in the back porch making a dress for Mrs. Whitlock.” + +No more was said at the time. + +Weeks passed and nothing more was heard of Ronald Bruce. + +“I wonder why he does not come,” sighed Em. to herself. “He seemed so +delighted to see me, so anxious to know whether I was going to stay in +the neighborhood, and so overjoyed when I told him that I was living +here permanently. He even told me that would decide him to remain with +his uncle. And yet he has never called here since, though father invited +him so cordially to do so. Perhaps he stays away because father has not +returned his visit; but surely a young gentleman like himself would not +stand on ceremony with a plain, elderly overseer like poor father. Oh, +dear, I don’t understand it at all, and I wish I could stop thinking +about it.” + +But she did not stop thinking about it, although she busied herself more +actively and constantly than ever with her household duties. + +Two months passed, and the very memory of the young lieutenant’s visit, +which had broken the monotony of their life in the Wilderness, seemed to +have faded away into dreamland. + +The golden days of October were at hand, and still no news was heard of +their neighbor, Ronald Bruce. + +One glorious autumn morning about this time the family had finished +breakfast and John and the boys had gone out to work. + +Susan and the other women and children were gathered in the family +sitting-room, where a cheerful wood fire burned on the hearth. + +They were busily engaged in their various employments. Susan was making +up flannel shirts for the winter, assisted by the three little girls, +who were hemming for her. Ann Whitlock was knitting yarn socks for +coming cold weather, old Monica was sewing carpet rags, and Em. seated +at the window which commanded the mountain pass leading to The Breezes, +was carefully working the buttonholes in the otherwise finished shirts. + +Suddenly she called out: + +“Oh, mother, what do you think? There is a carriage coming down the +mountain road toward the house! Such a handsome carriage, with such fine +horses and liveried servants! Whose can it be, do you think?” + +“Lord knows!” exclaimed Susan, as she started, dropping her work, and +rushed to the window, followed by all the family, to see the +unprecedented sight of a carriage coming to the solitary manor-house. + +They crowded before the two windows of that end of the room and gazed +with wonder upon the phenomenon. + +It was certainly a very handsome, close carriage, drawn by a splendid +pair of silver-gray horses, and driven by a stout, gray-haired negro +coachman in livery. + +It wound down the mountain road, turned into the house drive, and +finally drew up before the main entrance of the old hall. A footman got +down from behind and knocked at the door. + +“The idea of anybody knocking at that empty old house! It’s awful, it’s +ghostly, and one wouldn’t be astonished if a ghost was to open the door +at last!” exclaimed Susan Palmer, as she left the sitting-room and went +out of her own house door to meet the visitors, whoever they might +chance to be. + +The women and children stared through one of the windows to see what was +coming of this arrival. + +Em. gazed through the other, hoping some news of—well, of one Ronald +Bruce, in whom she took some interest. + +She saw her mother go up the front steps of the old manor-house to the +still persistently knocking footman and seem to explain to him the utter +futility of his exertions and the total impossibility of receiving any +response from a closed-up and deserted house. + +She then saw her, followed by the footman, walk up to the door of the +carriage and speak to some one within. + +Finally she saw the carriage door open and a lady alight and join her +mother. + +As they walked towards the old house Em. had a good view of the lady’s +face and form. + +She was a tall, slender, dark-haired, dark-eyed woman, still beautiful, +though passed the prime of life, for she seemed from forty to forty-five +years of age. She was richly dressed in black, but not in mourning, and +a handsome cashmere shawl fell gracefully from her shoulders. + +But what took Em.’s breath as the stranger drew nearer was her wondrous +likeness to Ronald Bruce. + +“She is his mother! I know that beautiful and queenly woman is his +mother,” said Em. to herself in breathless interest, as the lady and her +conductress approached. + +“If you will excuse our plainness, madam, and come into the sitting-room +you will find a fire. There is none in the parlor, and as it is damp +there, you might take cold,” said Susan, as she entered the house. + +“Pray make no apologies, Mrs. Palmer; I am sure this room is +delightfully home-like and attractive,” answered the lady, with just a +tinge of condescension in her manner that escaped the notice of Susan, +but slightly chilled Em.’s more sensitive spirit. + +“Pray take a seat, Mrs. Bruce,” said Susan, pushing forward the best +arm-chair. “This is my oldest daughter that I have at home,” added +Susan, introducing Em., but not thinking it necessary to present the +other members of her numerous family. + +“How do you do, my dear?” said the lady, kindly holding out her +kid-gloved hand to the girl as if to encourage a poor child of the lower +orders, but looking on her with the beautiful dark eyes of Ronald Bruce. + +Em. bent her head respectfully, but in silence; for indeed there was no +need for her to speak, as the lady turned away almost instantly and +addressed Susan: + +“Yes, Mrs. Palmer, as I was saying to you, I have come here in search of +a seamstress and in some hope of getting one from your family. My son, +Lieutenant Bruce, of the navy, who knows your husband, I think——” + +“Yes, madam, he does. I hope the lieutenant is well?” + +Em.’s eyes, ears and heart were all on the _qui vive_ now. She almost +feared her companions of the moment might read her thoughts, her hopes +and her fears in her face, so she bent lowlier over her task and worked +more diligently at her buttonholes. + +“Thanks, he is quite well. He has just returned from a two months’ +sojourn at the Naval Academy of Annapolis, where he was suddenly called +upon some business connected with the school—some investigation of—I +know not what.” + +“Oh, indeed,” said Susan. + +Em.’s troubled heart leaped for joy and then settled into a delicious +calm. He had not forgotten her. He had been away. That was all. + +“My son, hearing me inquire in vain of my friends for a seamstress, +casually informed me that the new overseer of the Wilderness Manor had +several daughters, and it would be quite worth while to try whether one +of them would not be able to enter my service. I really _must_ have help +in getting ready for the winter, Mrs. Palmer. So if one of your girls +would come to me at once she should have a comfortable home and liberal +remuneration,” continued the lady. + +“Well, really, ma’am, it is true I have several daughters—six of ’em, in +fact; but the two eldest are married and away. And the three youngest +are little things, from six to ten. So it comes to this, that there is +no one but Em. here who is fit for the place.” + +“As Ronald Bruce knew well enough,” smiled Em. to herself. + +“Ah, is it so? But of course Lieutenant Bruce could not know all these +little details of your family. He only knew that you had several girls +who might possibly be good seamstresses.” + +“Just so, ma’am; but there’s only Em.,” said Susan. + +“As he knew—as he knew,” silently sang the girl’s heart. + +“Is she a neat and skillful seamstress?” + +“None better in the world, ma’am, I think.” + +“Then if you will part with her to me, I would like to engage her for a +few weeks.” + +“It is just as Em. pleases, madam. There is no necessity in us why our +girls should go out to work, but I am willing to oblige you; and +besides, I think the change would do the girl good. She has been moping +lately. What do you say, Em.?” inquired Susan, turning to her quiet +daughter. + +“I will go, mother, if this lady wishes me to do so; and I will do my +best to give satisfaction,” answered the girl demurely. + +“Very well. Can you be ready to come to-morrow if I send the carriage +for you?” inquired Mrs. Bruce. + +“I will come to you to-morrow, madam; but do not take the trouble to +send for me. One of my brothers can take me to you,” said Em. + +“Just as you please, my dear. Three dollars a week, with board and +washing, is what I have been in the habit of giving my seamstresses,” +concluded the lady, as she arose to take her leave. + +“What will father say to this, mother?” inquired Em. when Mrs. Bruce had +gone. + +“Your father won’t say nothing against it, child. We have had many a +talk about you. He’ll be glad you’ll have a change. And mind, he’ll take +you over there himself to-morrow morning,” answered Susan. + +Em. spent the remainder of the day in packing her little box for her +removal to Commodore Bruce’s. + +When John Palmer came home to dinner he was told what had happened and +gave his hearty approval. + +“I’m glad for the girl’s sake,” he said. “I know it will do her a great +deal of good. We’ll miss her very much, I feel. But our loss will be her +gain, and we must put up with it; for ‘sich is life.’” + +Later in the day old ’Sias and Aunt Sally, who had heard the news from +the boys, strayed into the house to pay Em. a parting visit. + +“Well,” said old ’Sias, “I ain’t had sich a surprise, no, not since I +was a boy, and dat were about a hund’ed and fifty years ago, more or +less, honey, more or less!” + +“Law! What a story! But he don’t mean no harm by it, Miss Em. ’Deed he +don’t! He nebber does nuffin’ to nobody,” said Aunt Sally. “But I’m +mighty pleased long o’ dem dere B’uces what yer gwine to, honey. I +nebber seed de ole man, nor yet de madam, but I see de young man, what +time he come and took supper and stayed all night here. He’s a good +soul, honey. I took a good look at him, and I know it. He’s a good soul. +He’ll nebber do nuffin’ to nobody.” + +With these consoling assurances Aunt Sally took leave and departed, +carrying Uncle ’Sias away with her. + +That night after Em. went to bed her mother came up unexpectedly and sat +by her side. + +“After this busy day I wish to take this only chance I shall have of +speaking to you in private, my child,” she said. + +Em. took her mother’s hand and kissed it with silent affection. + +“Listen to me, child. I want to give you a little advice before you +leave us for your safe guidance while you are away.” + +“Dear mother, indeed I will listen; indeed I will follow your counsel,” +said the girl simply and earnestly. + +“I need not tell you to read the Word of God, with prayer, morning and +evening. That I am sure you will do.” + +“Yes, dear, I will.” + +“Nor need I give you any hints as to your conduct toward your employers. +Your own good sense will teach you how to behave toward them. But, oh, +my dear child, there are dangers that beset youth which I cannot even +hint at without hurting you.” + +“Speak what is on your mind, dear mother; never mind hurting me,” said +Em. tenderly. + +“No, I cannot. But I will give you one little simple rule, easy to +remember and easy to follow for your safe guidance among your new +companions: _Never do or say anything that you would not like your +mother to see or hear._” + +“I never will! Indeed, dear mother, I never, never will!” earnestly +replied Em. + +“That is right. Be guided by that rule, my child. It is the path of +safety.” + + + + + CHAPTER VIII + Em. AT THE COMMODORE’S + + That lonely mansion stood upon a cliff, + By a great mountain spring—just elevate’ + Above the winter torrents did it stand, + Upon a craggy brink; and now it wore + One sober hue; the narrow cleft which wound + Among the hills was gray with rocks, that peered + Above its shallow soil; the mountainside + Was loose with stones bestrewn, which oftentimes + Clattered adown the steep, beneath the foot + Of struggling goat dislodged. + SOUTHEY. + + +It was a glorious morning in October when Em., amid the kisses, tears +and blessings of the whole family, left the valley of the Wilderness for +her new home on the mountain. + +Seated by her father in the little, old-fashioned chaise, drawn by one +steady, old, draught horse, and with her little trunk containing all her +worldly goods strapped on behind, she commenced her journey. + +They could not go by the way up which Em. had watched her lover ride +until man and horse disappeared in the thicket above because that was +but a narrow though nearer bridle-path which led up the mountain from +the rear of the manor-house and was used only by horsemen and foot +passengers. + +They drove down the old avenue leading through the thick woods that lay +between the house and the park wall to the lodge gate, where they found +both ’Sias and Sereny on duty to bid a final good-by to “Miss Em.” + +She felt for a moment distressed that she had no parting token of regard +to bestow on these attentive friends; then she quickly took the clean +linen collar and cuffs from her neck and wrists and gave them to Sereney +and the neatly-folded handkerchief from her pocket and bestowed it upon +’Sias. + +Both received these little presents with grateful smiles and promised to +use them for her sake. + +And both threw old shoes after the chaise as it passed through the gate +and turned to the left. + +“Why, my girl, you have half stripped your neck and hands for them +darkies. You’ll look a perfect dowdy when you get to the commodore’s,” +said John when they were out of hearing of the gate-keepers. + +“Oh, no, father dear. See, my shawl will cover all deficiencies until I +reach my journey’s end, and then I can get new cuffs and collar from my +trunk,” smilingly replied Em., as she drew her shepherd’s plaid wrap +closer around her shoulders. + +Their road ran southward between the mossy gray stone wall of the park +on the left and the richly-colored autumn woods on the right. Overhead +was the most glorious October sky; underneath a road so thickly strewn +with fallen leaves that the horse’s hoofs and the carriage wheels went +softly and silently on. + +Passing the southeast angle of the park wall the road continued through +the forest, but began gradually to ascend the wooded mountain range, +half way up which, on a natural plateau, was situated the old house. + +The way was very lonely. Sometimes indeed a fox squatted on the road +before them, startled by their approach, would spring up, scamper off +and disappear in the forest. Sometimes a hawk, perched on some bending +bough above them, frightened by their appearance, would take wing with a +scream and be lost in the clouds afar. + +But such were the only signs of life that met them. No human being +appeared on this almost totally abandoned road. + +It wound up and up the wooded precipice until all of a sudden it came +out of the woods and on to the back of the old house—a long, low +building of gray stone, without any pretensions to architectural beauty, +but with a look of spacious, homely comfort that was very attractive. + +Entering by a side gate and driving over a stony road, they came around +to the front of the building, which stood within a yard bounded by a +stone wall upon the very edge of the precipice. + +A short flight of broad, low stone steps led up to the flagged piazza +and thence to the front door of solid oak, adorned with a huge iron +knocker. + +As there was no one in sight, John Palmer got off his seat, fastened his +horse and helped Em. to alight. + +Then both went up the steps, and John knocked loudly at the door. + +It was opened by an old negro man, who stood silently waiting the +pleasure of the visitors. + +“Is your mistress in?” inquired John. + +“Yes, sar.” + +“Then tell her that the young person she expected this morning has +arrived.” + +“Yes, sar,” said the old negro, and then bethinking himself of proper +civility, he added: “You may walk in here and take a seat in de hall, if +you please.” + +John Palmer, followed by Em., entered the hall, which was of the type of +nearly all the halls in all the large old houses in the country, running +through the house, with a front door and back, a great staircase in the +midst and room doors on either side. + +John and Em. sat down on a heavy oaken settee, while the man went off to +announce their arrival to his mistress. + +“Em, this is a cold, hard, sterile place, and my heart sinks like lead, +my girl!” sighed honest John, looking about him. + +“Why should it, father dear? Mine doesn’t. Don’t get blue, dear father. +Remember, Sunday is the Lord’s day, and every Saturday night you are to +send Tom for me or come yourself, and I will go home and stay till +Monday morning—two nights and a day with you, dear father,” said Em. +cheerfully. + +“Yes, there is some comfort in that, and if it wasn’t for that I should +not have let you leave home to come here at all,” replied John, just as +the old servant reappeared and said: + +“You is to come inter de back parlor and wait until de madam is ready to +see you. She will come down presently.” + +Once more John and his daughter arose and followed their guide. + +He conducted them down the hall, opened a door on the right hand and +showed them into a moderate-sized and plainly-furnished room with +oak-paneled walls and polished oak floor, and with a broad fireplace, on +which burned a fire of huge hickory logs. This fireplace was flanked by +two deep recesses, in one of which stood a carved oaken beaufet, full of +old china, and in the other stood a cabinet with glass doors, behind +which might be seen a collection of small curiosities from all quarters +of the world, brought by Commodore Bruce from his various voyages. + +Two large easy chairs, covered with flowered chintz, were drawn up to +the fireplace, before which lay a rich Turkey rug. + +John placed himself in one of these and Em. in the other. + +She was busily employed in gazing at the old, old china in the beaufet +on her right and curiosities in the cabinet on her left when the door +opened and Mrs. Bruce sailed in. + +“Sailed” is the only term to use in regard to the carriage of this lady, +so smooth and majestic was her motion. + +“Ah, my dear, you are very punctual. I am glad to see you,” she said, +taking the hand of Em. and then nodding graciously to John, who arose +and bowed and remained standing while he said: + +“Well, madam, I have brought my girl to you according to her promise. If +she should not happen to suit, just drop me a word by one of your grooms +and I’ll come and fetch her home with more pleasure than I have brought +her here.” + +“Oh, I have no doubt in the world that she will suit me excellently +well,” said the lady, smiling at the bluntness of John and looking +kindly upon Em. + +“I will try my best to please you, madam,” said the girl. + +“I am not very hard to please, little one,” replied the lady. + +“But in any case, I shall be here Saturday night at six o’clock to take +my girl home to spend the Sabbath,” said John, who could not help +feeling in a very unchristian and aggressive humor; for why should this +proud lady have the light of his eyes, the core of his heart, his +darling little Em., merely because she wanted her services and was rich +enough to pay for them? + +John felt himself rapidly growing into an agrarian, a communist, a +revolutionist or any other sort of incendiary Satan should desire to +make of him. + +“There can be no objection at all to that. Indeed, if you like, you can +come at an earlier hour,” replied Mrs. Bruce. + +“I thank you, ma’am; but I will come at six o’clock, the regular hour +for knocking off work all over the world, I believe,” answered John, who +did not wish to receive any favors. + +Then he went up to his daughter, took her in his arms and kissed her +heartily, put her down, caught up his hat from the floor, bowed to the +lady and abruptly departed. + +“Your father does not like to part with you,” said Mrs. Bruce. + +“No, madam; and this is the first time I have ever left home,” +respectfully replied Em. + +“Why does he consent for you to leave home when he is so reluctant to +lose sight of you?” + +“He yields to my wish and to what he considers my mother’s better +judgment in all matters that relate to her daughters.” + +“Ah, then _you_ wished to come to me.” + +“Yes, indeed, madam,” said Em. with an ardor that almost touched +familiarity. + +But the lady took no offence. She seemed rather pleased than otherwise +as she added: + +“And so your mother sided with yourself?” + +“Yes, madam.” + +“I hope that neither of you will regret your choice. Your duties here +will not be heavy. We breakfast at eight. After breakfast you will sew +until luncheon time—one o’clock—then take an hour for rest or recreation +and then sew until the dinner—six o’clock—after which you have the +remainder of the day and the night to yourself. When we have no company +besides the friends staying in the house, you will take your meals with +us. And now I will ring for a servant to show you your room,” said the +lady, suiting the action to the word. + +A good-looking young colored girl answered the call. + +“Liza, show Miss Palmer here to the southwest room in the attic, and +have her trunk carried up there, and wait until she is ready to come +down and then bring her to my room. Do you understand?” inquired Mrs. +Bruce. + +“Oh, yes’m,” replied the servant. + +“I will see you soon then,” said the lady, as she passed out of the +parlor. + +“Come long o’ me, miss, and I’ll take you to Cuba,” said the colored +girl, showing all her teeth at she smiled. + +“Cuba?” echoed Em. in bewilderment. + +“Yes, miss, which I means de sou’wes’ room in de attic, as de madam tell +me to take—which de ole marse he do call Cuba ’cause de sun do shine +dere mos’ all day an’ make it warm,” the girl explained as she left the +parlor. + +“That is quite fanciful,” observed Em., as she followed her guide. + +“Yes, miss, I s’pose it mus’ be somefin like dat—which de ole marster do +call ebery room in de house after some furrin country as he had to sail +to when he used to go down to de high seas in de big ships,” continued +Liza, as they went on. + +They climbed two flights of stairs and reached the attic floor, which, +like all the lower ones, had a broad hall running through it from front +to back, with two large rooms on each side. + +“Are all these rooms named after foreign countries?” inquired Em., as +she stood in the spacious hall, which was lighted by a large window at +each end. + +“Yes, miss; and this here sow’wes’ one, which is to be yourn, is Cuba, +’cause it’s de warmest.” + +“And the one back of mine—the southeast room—what is that called?” + +“Oh! Loosy anny, ’cause it’s warm an’ damp. An’ de rooms on de norf side +ob de hall is—well, less se—de sow-ees’ room is called Greenlan’, and de +now’wes’ is ’Laska.” + +“I declare that is quite interesting, Liza. When we have time I will get +you to tell me the names of all the rooms in the house, but now +introduce me into Cuba and then please have my trunk sent up right +away.” + +“Yes, miss, I will. Here is your room,” answered the little maid, +opening the door of the southwest room. + +Em. entered it and made a little exclamation of surprise and pleasure. +It was a very attractive bower, if it _was_ in the attic—a spacious +chamber, with whitewashed walls, a sloping roof, a clean, bare floor, +with rugs lying here and there; a broad fireplace, with a good fire of +logs; four deep dormer windows, two looking to the west out upon the +cedar-wooded ascent of the mountain, and two looking south, down the +river, with a view of the opposite wooded, hilly shore, and a distant +sight of the beautiful island. + +The old-fashioned four-post bedstead, the tall chest of drawers, the +“press” and the three-cornered washstand, the tables and the chairs were +all of maple. The window curtains and the chair-covers were of yellow, +flowered calico. + +Altogether, the attic room had a spacious, cheerful, homely look that +perfectly contented its new occupant. + +She took off her shawl, folded it and put it away in one of the press +shelves and placed her bonnet beside it. + +And by the time Em. had bathed her face and hands and brushed her hair +the colored girl reappeared, accompanied by a strong man bringing the +trunk. + +Em. only detained Liza long enough to open her trunk and take from it a +clean, white linen collar and pair of cuffs, which she added to her +simple dress of brown merino. + +Then she followed the colored girl downstairs to a spacious, handsomely +furnished chamber on the second floor, where she found Mrs. Bruce alone +and busily engaged in cutting out work for her new seamstress. + +She spoke very kindly to Em., told her where she could sit down, and +then she filled her hands with needlework and placed a pile on a +standing workbasket at her side and said: + +“I am now going downstairs to my guests. It is ten o’clock. The lunch +bell will ring at one. You can then come down and join us. You can +easily find your way to the dining-room—it is the back room on the north +side of the house. + +“Thank you, madam. Yes, I can easily find it,” said Em. + +Mrs. Bruce went down to the drawing-room and Em. stitched for three +hours, her fingers busy with her needlework, her thoughts with Ronald +Bruce. She felt sure that he had instigated his mother to engage her +only for the sake of having her near him, and she rejoiced in the +thought. + +She never seriously reflected now how this love might end. It was +happiness enough for the present to know that she was under the same +roof with her lover, and that she would be sure to see him several times +a day for weeks to come. + +So she sat and stitched diligently, smiling dreamily over her work until +the luncheon bell rang. + +Then she sprang up, smoothed her dress and her hair and tripped +downstairs to the dining-room where the luncheon-table was spread. + + + + + CHAPTER IX + “THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE” + + The course of true love never yet ran smooth; + For either ’twould be different in blood, + Or else misgrafted in respect of years. + Or else it stood upon the choice of friends; + Or, if there is a unity in all, + War, death or sickness will lay siege to it. + SHAKESPEARE. + + +But the family had not yet assembled. There was but One person in the +room, and he sprang to meet her, caught both of her hands, and would +have saluted her with a kiss but that the quick, forbidding look in the +young girl’s eyes arrested him. + +“Well, well, I won’t, then!” he said; “but, oh, Em., I am so enraptured +to see you! And did I not manage beautifully? As soon as I had got home +from Annapolis, where that interminable investigation detained me so +long, I was postively determined to have you here! So, my dear, having +purposely left the bulk of my wardrobe behind, I told my mother that I +had scarcely the thread of a garment left and must have several made up +immediately. My poor mother, who is as new to this neighborhood as you +or I, was immediately driven to her wit’s end for the wants of a +seamstress. I knew she would be! So I recommended John Palmer’s +daughters, knowing full well that there was but one among them who could +suit my mother. So here you are, my love; and if I succeed in my plans, +from here you will never go again without me! But hush! here is somebody +else,” said Ronald, as old Commodore Bruce came into the room. + +He was very much bowed and broken—his head was bald on the top, with a +light fringe of silver-gray hair around his temples and the nape of his +neck. He wore a dressing-gown of flowered India silk, wadded and lined +and confined around the waist with a crimson silk cord and tassel. He +stooped over his large, gold-headed cane as he walked. + +Some men soon recover from severe bereavements, others never do. +Commodore Bruce belonged to the latter class. He had never rallied from +the overwhelming grief of Lonny’s loss. + +Every year, on his son’s birthday, he had said: + +“If my Lonny were now alive he would be this old.” + +And only in the beginning of _that_ year he had said: + +“Ah, if my poor Lonny were alive now he would be thirty-five years old. +In the very prime and pride of life, in the vigor and glory of his +manhood!” + +Commodore Bruce came in slowly, leaning on his cane, as I said, and +looking keenly from side to side as if to see who was in the room, for +his sight was always dim. + +“Ah, nobody here scarcely. These women are always unpunctual. They need +a little navy discipline to train them. But who is this? Who is this, +Ronald?” he exclaimed as his eyes fell upon Em. + +“This is Miss Palmer, a young lady my mother has staying with her,” said +young Bruce not quite frankly. + +“Oh, how do you do, my dear. I am very glad to see you. I hope you will +enjoy yourself among us,” said the old man with formal politeness, +taking her hand, yet scarcely looking in her face. + +“I thank you, sir, but I am only Mrs. Bruce’s seamstress,” said Em., +amending Ronald’s little error. + +“Eh?” exclaimed the commodore, looking more attentively in her face. + +Em. repeated her assertion. + +But Commodore Bruce was not listening to her words or caring for them. +He was gazing in her face as if he were transfixed. + +At length he recovered himself, found his voice and said: + +“I beg your pardon, my dear, but I seem to have seen you somewhere else +long before this.” + +“Yes, sir, you did—in the city, more than a year ago, when you were at +the Indian Queen Hotel, and I carried home some shirts to you,” said Em. + +“Ay—ay—ay—ay! I remember that! But this was long, long before! Yet no, +you could not be so told! It must be some one whom you closely resemble +that I remember and am thinking of! Yes—yes! I know now! Ah, that poor, +unhappy one! What has ever become of her? Where lies her broken heart? +And she was my Lonny’s last charge to me before he left me for the last +time. ‘Father,’ he said, ‘for my sake be kind to poor Emolyn!’ Ah! she +was my poor boy’s sweetheart, I doubt! But she is gone! gone! This girl +looks like her! Looks as she did before that blasting calamity fell upon +her! An accidental likeness! The world is full of such! Yet I wish I had +not seen it!” murmured the old man in a musing tone. + +Ronald Bruce led him to a chair, placed him in it, took the cane from +his hand and set it up and then gave him a glass of wine. + +When the old man had drank this he seemed to be revived, for he turned +to Em. and said: + +“Do not let my lucubrations disturb you, child!” + +At that moment Mrs. Bruce and two other ladies entered the room. + +Em. looked up, and to her intense amazement caught the eye of her former +teacher, Mrs. Templeton. + +“Why, Emolyn Palmer!” she exclaimed in astonishment equal to Em.’s own. +“Is it possible that this is _you_, my dear? Why, how came you to be +here?” + +“I am Mrs. Bruce’s new seamstress,” answered Em. simply. + +“You are! Well, I knew that she had taken a young girl in the house to +sew, and I believe I heard she was the daughter of one Palmer, who was +overseer at the Wilderness Manor; but I had no idea that it was _you_, +my dear! I am _very_ glad to see you again! And here is Hermia, who will +be equally well pleased to meet her old schoolmate,” concluded Mrs. +Templeton, as her daughter joined them. + +“Yes, indeed, I am very happy to see you so unexpectedly, Em.,” +cordially exclaimed Miss Templeton, who had developed into a tall, +queenly brunette of about nineteen years of age. + +“And oh! I am _so_ glad and so _very_ much surprised to see you, Miss +Hermia,” heartily exclaimed Em., squeezing the offered hand of the young +lady. + +“Why, did you not know that my mother was Commodore Bruce’s only sister? +And that when he retired from the navy and settled down here he took her +from her school and brought her here to keep house for him?” inquired +Hermia, still holding the hand of her little schoolmate. + +“Oh, I knew, at least I had heard, that Mrs. Templeton had a brother in +the navy who had sent her son to the Naval Academy, and afterwards I +heard that she had resigned her situation as teacher of the public +school, and had gone to live with her brother; but I had not the least +suspicion that it was Commodore Bruce!” said Em., still gazing with +surprised eyes. + +“Oh, yes!” said Hermia, laughing. “And here we found my aunt, Mrs. David +Bruce, his brother’s widow and her son Ronald. They are not rival +queens, although this is but one kingdom and cannot be divided. No; +though they are both here, there is no rivalry, and you will soon know +the reason,” concluded Hermia as she gave her friend’s hand a hearty +squeeze. + +Mrs. Templeton, who had crossed the room to speak to Mrs. Bruce, now +came back to Em., and again expressed her joy in meeting the girl. + +As for Em., she was bewildered with happiness. + +Every one spoke gently to her; every one smiled on her. She was received +into the family circle more like a dear young relative than as a +dependent. + +But then the girl was so fair and lovely in person and manner that no +one could have treated her with coldness or indifference. + +And as for Ronald Bruce, who looked on all this from the opposite side +of the room with the air of a careless spectator, he was really filled +with delight at the success of his experiment. + +“She will win all hearts,” he said to himself; “and being quick-witted +as well as gentle and refined, she will soon catch the ‘shibboleth’ of +our set—the thousand and one almost inscrutable and quite indescribable +absurdities— + + “‘That mark the caste of Vere de Vere.’ + +“Dear girl! For myself I should only be too glad to introduce her into +any society. And as to the old folks putting their heads together and +setting their hearts on making a match between me and my Cousin +Hermia—that is perfect nonsense! We like each other well enough; but we +won’t marry each other. We’d die first!” + +While Ronald Bruce was ruminating the old commodore was growing +impatient for his lunch. + +“Well, well, Catherine! Well, well, Margaret! what are we waiting for +now?” he testily inquired. + +“Only for Mrs. and Miss Warde,” replied Mrs. Bruce. “These women! These +women! They have no idea of the duty of punctuality! Ah! a little +training on board a man-o’-war would improve their habits.” + +As the old man spoke Belinda Warde entered the room, apologizing, and +saying: + +“Mamma is not very well; but she will be down in a few moments, and begs +that you will not wait.” + +“I am sorry to hear that. But take your seats. She will join us +presently,” said the commodore. + +Belinda was now about thirty-five years old, a superb brunette, like her +mother, and being well-preserved and well-dressed, she still passed +among those who did not know her age as a young lady. + +She stared for an instant at the little stranger in their midst, until +Hermia said: + +“This is a schoolmate of mine—Miss Palmer—who has come to assist Aunt +Bruce.” + +“Oh!” said the young lady, and took her seat at the table, which was now +full but for the vacant chair waiting for Mrs. Warde. + +The meal progressed, but the absent lady did not make her appearance. + +A servant was sent up to ask her if she would have refreshments served +in her room. + +An answer was returned declining the offer with thanks, and desiring +that the company would excuse her. + +“Whimsical,” whispered the old commodore confidentially to his own white +beard as he finished his “mayonnaise.” + +The luncheon was an informal meal, and one by one the party around the +table dropped off, until no one was left but the commodore, his +sister-in-law and Em., who, though she had finished eating, sat there +because she was too timid to get up and leave while Mrs. Bruce remained. + +Finally the three arose together, and Em. was about to hurry up to her +needlework when the old commodore arrested her steps by saying: + +“Stop, my dear; with my sister’s leave here, I want you to read the +newspapers for me; the boy brought them from the post-office just before +we sat down to lunch and they are not opened yet. Follow me to my +study.” + +Em. stood still in perplexity and looked from the commodore to the lady. + +“My dear brother, I, Ronald, or, indeed, any of us, will be most happy +to be your reader, as we always have been,” said Mrs. Bruce +hesitatingly. + +“Oh, yes, I know! I know! But this child has a sweet, fresh voice very +pleasant to hear. So I am sure she can read most agreeably. I prefer to +try her at any rate—that is, if you have no objection, madam,” added the +old man in a tone that warned his sister-in-law she must make no more +opposition to his wishes. + +“Oh, _of course_, I have no objection, sir. I am only too happy if any +one in my employment can be of the least service to you, to whom I owe +so much. Miss Palmer,” she said, turning to Em., “attend Commodore Bruce +to his study.” + +“Come here on my left, child,” said the old man. + +Em. obeyed. + +Then, leaning with his right hand upon his stick and with his left upon +Em.’s shoulder, he walked slowly from the dining-room, crossed the hall +and passed into his study, which was in fact a handsome library in the +southwest corner of the first floor. + +Supported by Em. and his stick he walked to a long table in the middle +of the room and dropped into a large chair beside it. + +On the table before him lay several newspapers still in their envelopes. +He opened them one by one and spread them out. + +“Now, my child, draw up a chair and seat yourself on my right side—I am +as deaf as a post on my left—and begin to read me the news.” + +“Where shall I begin?” softly inquired Em. when she had seated hemself +and unfolded the paper. “Shall I read the speech of——” + +“Oh, bother, no; don’t; read the news—the murders, suicides, arsons, +burglaries, robberies, and so forth; and if you can find any, the +opposite sorts of things—the rescues, the reconciliations, the +benefactions, and so on! Only don’t read speeches!” replied the +commodore. + +Em. looked all over the paper and found a long sensational account of a +great fire and the rescue of a family of children by a brave fireman, +who saved them at the imminent hazard of his own life. + +Next she read of the discovery of a silver mine in the mountains of +Virginia, which the old man instantly pronounced to be a hoax. + +Then of the laying of the corner-stone of a poor children’s hospital. + +But before she got through with this Em.’s flute-like voice had lulled +the old man to rest. + +Missing his comments at last, she looked up, and found him fast asleep +in his chair, and Ronald Bruce standing before her with his eyes full of +laughter. + +“You have been reading to closed ears for about ten minutes, Em.,” said +the young man. + +“Oh! is he asleep? Must I go?” inquired the girl, dropping her paper and +preparing to rise. + +“He is asleep; but you must not upon any account go until he wakes up +and dismisses you! Don’t be afraid, however! _I’ll_ stay and keep your +company.” + +Em. looked perplexed, confused and utterly uncertain what to say. + +“Dear Em., keep your seat; I have got something that I must tell you in +a plain, honest, straightforward way, even although you may know it well +enough already. May I tell you now, this moment?” inquired the young +man, as he drew a foot-stool and seated himself at the feet of the +sleeping veteran, and very near to her also, it must be confessed. + +“Dear Em., dearest Em., may I tell you now?” he repeated. + +“Ronald, is it anything you would tell me in the presence of my mother?” +timidly questioned the girl. + +“Yes! in the presence of the whole world, if necessary.” + +“Well, then—say on,” whispered Em. + +“Em. Palmer, I haven’t been like other young fellows, falling in and out +of love with almost every pretty girl I ever saw since I was five years +old! No! I have been to sea ever since I was a child, and I never, +never, _never_ knew what it was to love a girl, the least in the world, +until I met you.” + +“Oh! _do_ please don’t talk so! I _know_ you wouldn’t talk so to me if +my mother was sitting there right before us!” murmured Em., beginning to +tremble. + +“May I never be saved if I would not! I would tell you I love you if all +the mothers, fathers, aunts, and uncles, and guardians in Christendom +were sitting on stiff, high-backed chairs in a circle around us! There! +For it is the blessed truth! I _do_ love you, Em., with all my heart and +soul and life! I began to love you from the first moment I ever saw you! +Yes, and I perceived that you also began to love me about the same +time!” he added triumphantly. + +“Oh, Ronald,” breathed Em., her face dyed with blushes, “was I so +forward?” + +“‘Forward!’ No. You little, sensitive plant. The opposite of all that—so +shrinking you were! But, oh, Em., I began to love you from the first +moment I ever saw you, and I have loved you more and more ever since; +and the more I have loved you the more my spirit has gone forth in +good-will to all the world. My heart was as pure and fresh as your own, +Em., and no heart could be purer and fresher when I gave it to you; and +that heart has remained as true and constant as your own, Em., through +these years of absence and silence, when no word of love or of plighted +faith had passed between us!” + +“Oh, Ronald, Ronald, I am so frightened,” she murmured. + +“Why should you be even uneasy? Listen, love! Listen, loveliest! By all +the signs I have told you do I know that ours is the real, true, holy, +heavenly love, and not one of its plausible counterfeits.” + +“Oh, Ronald, is it right for you to talk to me in this way?” she +breathed. + +“Right? It is righteous!” + +“Ah, how can it end? You are a young gentleman of rank and wealth; I, a +poor, half educated girl, the child of a man of the laboring classes.” + +“I do not care! I will tell you how it will end, Em. It will end in our +happy marriage. In the first place, let me tell you that I am of age, +and NO ONE, however near and dear, however rich and influential, shall +control my choice in that which would be the most important act of my +life and the nearest to my heart. I will not lead _you_ into any +disobedience, Em. If the old folks do object to our union I will wait +until you are of age, and then I will marry you, love—I will Em., I +will, ‘Though mammy and daddy and a’ gang mad!’ Yes! though my crotchety +old kinsman here should disinherit and turn me out of the house, get me +discharged from the navy, and leave me to earn our living by breaking +stones on the highway. If you will only be constant, Em., as I know you +will be, I will marry you in spite of them all. I will marry you in +spite of fate and fortune; and I don’t care a button who hears me say +so! OH!” + +This last exclamation was called forth by the sight of old Commodore +Bruce sitting straight up in his chair, very wide awake, and staring at +them. + + + + + CHAPTER X + SURPRISE + + The spell, + The mightiest upon earth—the spell of love, + Familiar, mutual, requited love— + Shall be upon thee; and its charmed power + Shall at each moment, at a wish, call up + More wealth than ever crossed the desert sands, + Gems, purer, costlier far than Araby’s; + Unsunned treasures from that richest mine, + The human heart. POCAHONTAS. + + +“OH!” echoed the old man, while the young people looked at him aghast. +“Eh? What? It seems I’ve been nodding and you’ve caught me! Very rude of +me to fall asleep while you were reading, my dear! You might have won a +pair of gloves, eh?” + +It was evident from the commodore’s words that he had not heard a word +of Donald Bruce’s reckless talk, but had indeed but just at that instant +waked up. + +“I hope you had a refreshing nap, sir,” said Em., who was the first to +recover her self-possession. + +“Yes—yes—yes—yes! I had a very refreshing nap! Brief, but very +refreshing. ‘Forty winks,’ as the saying is, you know, my dear; just +lost myself, that is all!” said the old man, apparently unconscious that +he had been sound asleep for two hours. + +“I hope you feel revived, sir,” said Ronald, now plucking up heart. + +“Yes—yes, quite so! But how the deuce did you come here, Ronald? What do +you want?” demanded the commodore, bethinking himself now of the +unexpected presence of his nephew. + +“I want to go to Greyrock this afternoon. Will you let me have Warlock?” +inquired the young man with quick invention. + +“Now, Ronald!” testily exclaimed the elder, “why will you reiterate a +request that you know, for your own sake, I must deny? No! You cannot +have that four-legged fiend! No! I will not have your neck broken during +_my_ lifetime by any concession of mine. No! Once for all, you can not, +and you never _can_ have Warlock! You may ride any other horse in the +stable—in fact, you may ride any other four-footed creature on the +estate, and you know it. But you sha’n’t risk your life on Warlock,” +emphatically declared the commodore, bringing down his doubled fist with +force upon the table as a finality. + +“Very well, sir; of course you must be obeyed,” said Ronald with a +slight shrug of his handsome shoulders. “I shall not, however, take any +of the other horses. If I cannot have Warlock I do not care to take a +ride to-day.” + +“No! I thought you only wished to go to Greyrock for the sake of risking +your precious neck on Warlock’s vicious back. But you shall not do it. I +shall sell that horse the first chance I get. Now, then, go about your +business, Ronald, and send my man here. It is time to dress for dinner. +You may go, also, my dear; but don’t go back to my sister-in-law and sit +down to sewing, I command you. And, mind, my commands are paramount on +this ship! You have been sitting enough to-day for a young one. Go now +and take a turn in the fresh air of the grounds. There! Be off with you +both. ’SCAT!!” + +The conscience-stricken young pair hurried from the library by different +doors—Ronald going out into the hall, and Em. descending the steps +through a French window that opened upon the front yard. + +That yard so widely different from all the other houseyards she had ever +seen in her life; that yard so savage in rocky desolation, so sublime in +magnificent prospect. + +The house, as I said, stood upon a natural plateau about half way up the +front of the precipice, directly overhanging the river. The yard +extended some thirty feet to the extreme edge of the precipice, which +was defended by a stone wall about breast high. There was no gate or +outlet from this front wall. The approach to the house, as I told you, +was from behind, and the entrance to the yard was at the side. + +Em. walked to the wall, leaned over it, and looked down the sheer +descent of a wooded steep a thousand feet to the river that flowed at +its foot. What abysms of darkness and mystery were in the depths of the +shadowy foliage so far below! There, in those deep caverns, doubtless, +the wildcat made her lair and reared her young; there, among those gray +crags, the eagle built her nest and brooded over her eggs. No gentler +creatures of the earth or air could surely find their homes among such +savage desolation, though Em. as she stood there leaning over the wall +and gazing down the dreadful descent. + +At length she raised her eyes and looked around, and beheld a prospect +magnificent beyond all words to portray. Spread out before her was the +beautiful valley, with the river flowing in the midst, and the +undulating, wooded hills rising beyond, all now royally arrayed in the +gorgeous hues of autumn, and refulgently lighted up by the glorious rays +of the setting sun. + +Ah! how brief are the moments of such splendid effects! + +Even as Em. gazed the sun sank down behind the mountains at her back, +and all the valley faded into twilight. + +Em. turned away and walked around the side of the house and passed to +the rear. + +There the precipice presented a different aspect. Instead of descending +to the river it ascended to the clouds, and from a fissure in the rock, +to the left of the stables, sprang a fountain that grew in volume as it +fell from rock to rock, and rushed roaring into the river below. + +Em. knew—because she had heard, in the conversation between Ronald Bruce +and her father on that evening when the former had stayed all night in +the old manor-house—that the cultivated farms belonging to The Breezes +estate were all in the valley below, and that these mountain ranges were +only valuable for their quarries of blue limestone; but she wondered +exceedingly at the eccentricity of the first proprietor, who had built +his dwelling-house on this mere shelf of rock half way up the mountain +side, with an ascending precipice behind it, and a descending precipice +before it. + +She remained out until the twilight faded into darkness, and then she +went into the house and ran up to her attic chamber, where the care of +the little colored girl Liza had already lighted two wax candles and set +them on the toilet-table, and had mended the wood fire which burned +brightly on the hearth. + +Em. brushed her hair and ran a narrow blue ribbon through its brown +ringlets, then put a blue bow to the meeting of her linen collar; and +so, having made the best toilet she could for dinner with well-dressed +ladies she put out her candles and left the room to go downstairs. + +The upper halls were dimly lighted, each by a little lamp at the back +end. + +Em. had just reached the landing on the second story and was hurrying +down the hall when a door on the left opened and a tall, dark, handsome +woman, richly dressed, but looking older than either Mrs. Bruce or Mrs. +Templeton, came out and carelessly approached Em. + +They stood face to face. The lady lifted her eyes haughtily to those of +the girl that for the moment stood in her way. But when their gaze met +the lady’s great black eyes dilated wide with terror, with horror! Her +face blanched to the pallor of death, her frame shook as with an ague. + +“BEGONE!” she shrieked. “Why do you come to haunt me?” + +And with these words she fell to the floor. + +Em., paralyzed by amazement, stood speechless and motionless over the +woman whom she had so involuntarily appalled and overwhelmed. + +But the shriek and the fall had startled others. Four opposite doors +flew open and four women rushed out of their rooms to see what was the +matter and to behold Em. standing like a statue of Fear over the +prostrate form of Malvina Warde. + +“In the name of Heaven, what does all this mean, Miss Palmer!” demanded +Mrs. Bruce, stooping to examine the condition of her guest, while Mrs. +Templeton, Hermia, and Belinda gathered around them. + +“She has fainted,” said Mrs. Templeton. + +The four women raised the unconscious form and laid it on the hall +lounge. + +“How did this happen, Miss Palmer?” inquired Mrs. Bruce while they all +began to use the common methods of reviving a swooning woman—bathing her +head, beating her hands, and applying sal volatile to her nose. + +“Why don’t you answer, Miss Palmer?” demanded Mrs. Bruce without pausing +in her efforts. + +“I—I don’t know,” stammered the frightened girl. “I had just run +downstairs and turned around when I met this lady coming out of that +door. We came on each other suddenly, and she stared and screamed and +fell. I think she took me for a ghost.” + +“It is very strange,” said Mrs. Templeton; “but, then, Malvina has had +heart disease for some years, and a little thing startles her.” + +“Do not be alarmed. Mamma is subject to these fainting fits,” said +Belinda Warde; “lay her head quite low and she will soon recover.” + +They followed the daughter’s advice, and the mother gave signs of +returning consciousness. + +“You had better go down, my dear. Since it was the sight of you that +first startled her you had better not be one of the first objects that +her eyes meet on opening,” said Mrs. Templeton. + +Gladly enough Em. left the circle and went downstairs. A feeling of +repulsion had come over her at the sight of that woman for which she +could in no way account. + +“It is strange, and unjust, and sinful,” said the girl to herself as she +tripped downstairs. “That woman never did me any harm in all the days of +my life! She never even knew me any more than I did her, and yet it is +true that I feel such a loathing of her as I never felt for any living +creature before. I must pray it away! It will not do! I will not have +hatred in my heart—particularly such a wicked, unnatural, and +unreasonable hatred as this. I will do that lady every kind service I +possibly can, and I will try to overcome this sudden hatred of an +inoffensive stranger.” + +In the lower hall she found Ronald Bruce, standing and staring upward. + +“What is the row upstairs? Was it a mouse, or a spider, or a candle moth +that caused all that screaming and running?” he inquired. + +“Oh! Ronald, it was I,” said Em. compunctiously. + +“You! What did you do?” + +“Oh! I suppose I came running down the attic stairs too swiftly and too +silently——” + +“Were you expected to creep down noisily, like an old cripple on +crutches?” laughingly demanded the young man. + +“Nonsense, Ronald! You must know I glided down and met Mrs. Warde in the +gloom, and she screamed and fainted.” + +“Was that it? Ha, ha, ha!” + +“Don’t laugh, Ronald. She took me for a ghost.” + +“Then she must have a bad conscience, that is all I can say about it! +Em., I hate that woman!” + +“Don’t, Ronald. That is wicked, even supposing she ever injured you, +which perhaps she never did.” + +“No, she never did. Nor did ever snakes or scorpions injure me, yet I +hate them; and I hate that woman as I hate them, with an instinctive +hatred.” + +“We should not hate anything; we should not permit the feeling of hate +to take any root in our hearts,” began Em., but before she could preach +her bit of a sermon she was interrupted by the appearance of Commodore +Bruce, who came out of his study to cross the hall on his way to the +drawing-room. + +“What was the matter just now? Which of the women was in hysterics?” he +carelessly inquired. + +“Mrs. Warde met Miss Palmer in the twilight, and taking her for a ghost, +screamed and fainted,” replied Ronald. + +“Humph! I don’t wonder, seeing that she persecuted to death one who was +as much like Miss Palmer as though they had been twin sisters. Ah, +well!” said the old man to himself as he passed on his way, “I am only a +little less culpable than herself, seeing that I should have looked +after the orphan girl whom my poor lad loved and committed to my charge +with his parting words. I have often wondered what he meant when he said +that he would have something to tell me which would surprise and please +me, but that his lips were sealed by honor until he should return from +his three years’ voyage—that voyage, ah, Heaven! from which he never +came back! I often suspected that that unfortunate child was——But what +is the use of speculating? The poor boy is gone, the girl is lost, and +the child is dead. The past is beyond recall, and therefore beyond +regret,” concluded the commodore as he passed to his arm-chair in the +drawing-room. + +Em. had followed him, and naturally Ronald had followed Em., and while +she busied her nimble fingers by arranging the books and bijouterie on +the center-table Ronald stood by her side. + +The dinner-bell rang. + +“Now, where are all these women? Unpunctual as usual. I wish I had them +all on board a man-o’-war in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean! I’d train +’em into punctuality! Where are they, I wonder?” + +“They are attending to Mrs. Warde, I think, sir,” said Em. soothingly. + +“Attending to Mrs. Warde? Does it take four able-bodied women to attend +to a single hysterical one? Let ’em throw a pitcher of cold water over +her head—that will fetch her to,” growled the old man as he arose from +his seat and took his cane and crept towards the dining-room, followed +by Em., who was pursued by Ronald. + +“You always run after uncle! You never stay behind a moment to let me +have a word alone with you,” complained the young man. + +“No, because it is not right far me to do so,” replied Em. + +“What! Not when we are engaged to be married?” he whispered. + +“We are not engaged. We cannot be engaged without the consent of parents +and friends,” said Em. + +“Eh! Why, did I not swear to marry you, whether or no?” he hurriedly +whispered, for the ladies of the household were hastening downstairs, +and before Em. could reply they were close behind the lovers. + +They all entered the lighted dining-room together and seated themselves +at the table. + +“Well! How is Malvina? Got over her fainting fit?” inquired the +commodore as he seated himself at the foot of the table. + +“No, not entirely; but she is lying down in her room carefully watched +over by Liza. She will not be able to join us this evening,” replied +Mrs. Bruce. + +“Humph!” exclaimed the commodore, neither very sympathetically nor +credulously. + +When dinner was over the family adjourned to the drawing-room. The old +man settled himself in his arm-chair and went to sleep. Belinda Warde +placed herself beside Ronald Bruce, and with something like her mother’s +powers of fascination held him bound for hours. The three other ladies +drew around the center-table with their fancy work of embroidery or +crochet. And Em. spent the very dullest evening she had ever passed in +all her life. + +At ten o’clock precisely Commodore Bruce rang up all the servants, sent +for the old family Bible and conducted the evening prayers. + +Then he peremptorily sent every one off to bed. + +Em. was glad to reach her attic, which had already begun to seem like +home in its privacy. + +It remained just as she had left it four hours before, except that the +fire was burning so low that it scarcely half lighted the large room +with its lurid glow. + +There was a box of wood in one corner near the fireplace, and Em. took a +few sticks and laid them on the smoldering logs, and soon had a cheerful +blaze. + +Then she took down one of the candles from the mantelpiece, and was +about to light it when she started to hear a voice behind her +exclaiming: + +“Dere now! I jes’ dis minute got ’lieved offen duty to Miss Melwiny +Warde, which I had to set by her and watch her until Miss Belindy came +up to bed and let me go, and den I ran right up here fas’ ever I could +to fix your fire and light your candles, and you gone and done it all +yourself ’dout de slightest ’sideration for my feelings.” + +“I didn’t know that you were coming, Liza,” said Em. in a gentle tone. + +“Now, see dere, now! Didn’t know I was coming; didn’t have no conf’ence +in me. Course I was coming, on’y I was ’tained so long dere tending to +Miss Malwiny Warde. Takes all de house to ’tend to she?” grumbled Liza +as she went about her duties, mending the fire, lighting the candles on +the dressing-table, turning down the bed and so on. + +When she had completed her work she stopped and said: + +“Now, Miss Em., ef you’s afeard to sleep by yourself I’ll fetch a little +mattriss from t’other room and sleep down here ’fore the fire to keep +you company.” + +“Oh, no, thank you. You are very kind to think of it, Liza, but I am not +at all afraid.” + +“You know dere ain’t nobody sleeps up here in dis garret ’sides you.” + +“Is there not? But it is of no consequence.” + +“Now, you better let me stay up here long o’ you, Miss Em. ’Deed you +had.” + +“Oh, thank you, but it is not necessary that you should. Besides, what +would Mrs. Bruce say to your changing your sleeping place?” + +“Oh, she! Lor’ bless you, Miss Em., ole Marse Commodo’ _he’s_ marster +and mist’ess, too, in dis house, and he ax me to-day, he say, ‘Lizer, +where dey put dat young girl to sleep?’ I say, ‘Up in the garret.’ He +say, ‘I thought so. Now you sleep on a pallet in her room if she is +afraid to stay by herself, you hear?’ I say, ‘Yas, marster.’ And so, +Miss Em., I come up faithful to offer my services.” + +“You are very kind. And so is your dear old master. He shows very great +consideration for me. But, as I said before, I do not need you, Liza. By +the way, where do you generally sleep?” + +“Oh! out’n de house in a room ober de stables, which dere are six rooms +dere, where de servants sleep, ’cept de cook and de two kitchen-maids. +Dey sleep in a room ober de kitchen.” + +“Very well, then, Liza, perhaps as it is late, you had better go now. +Shall I come downstairs and lock the door after you?” + +“Oh, lor’, no, Miss! I locks de door and takes de key ebery night +myself, so as to let myself in in de morning to wait on de ladies! But +it ain’t so awful late, after all, Miss Em. It ain’t no more an’ a +quarter arter ten o’clock, so wouldn’t you like to go through de other +rooms in this garret and look at ’em? ’Sides which, it would be good to +’xamine, and be sure as dere ain’t no robbers nor nuffin’ hid away in +dese rooms, and you up here by yourself,” persisted Liza. + +“Why, what a wise little woman you are! I’m not afraid of ‘robbers nor +nuffin’,’” said Em., smiling; “but I have ‘a cat-like love of garrets,’ +and so we will look at these other rooms, Liza. You take one candle ond +I will take another, so we will have light enough.” + + + + + CHAPTER XI + HIDDEN LOVE + + They seem to those who see them meet, + The worldly friends of every day; + Her smile is still serene and sweet, + His courtesy is free and gay; + Yet if by one the other’s name + Should in some careless hour be heard, + The heart we thought so calm and tame + Would struggle like a captive bird. + MONCTON MILES. + + +The colored girl did as she was directed, and led the way to the hall. + +“We calls de hall Canady, ’cause it’s so big and cold,” said Liza, +holding up her candle that Em. might view it. + +There was nothing at all to be seen in it, except bare floor and bare +walls, the head of the stairs, at one end, a large front window at the +other, and two doors on each side leading into the four rooms. These +rooms were not connected with each other, but opened only on the hall. + +“Yur room is de sou’west room, Miss Em., and called Cuba, ’cause it’s +warm and dry. Now less us go in de sou’east room, next to your’n, which +we call Louisiany, ’cause it’s warm and damp.” + +They entered that room, which had a musty and mouldy atmosphere of age +and decay, and was furnished with a miscellaneous assortment of old +furniture that seemed to have served its time out in the state chambers +below, and had been retired to the rest and seclusion of the attic. + +“I would like to look out of the window,” said Em., going to the front +one and throwing open the shutters. + +But she only looked down on the same scene by starlight as she had +beheld by sunset—the descent of the precipice, the river, and the +undulating, wooded hills beyond. + +“Now, less look in de rooms on de north side,” said Liza, going across +the hall. “Now this nor’east room we calls Newfoun’lan’, ’cause it’s so +cold and damp,” she added as she led the way in. + +It was filled up, as the other two were, with furniture that had once +been very handsome and costly, but was now worn out and dilapidated. + +A glance into the room sufficed. + +“Now, Miss Em., I sorter to think as you’ll like dis last room better’n +all de rest—dis nor’west room which we do call Alasky, because it is +bofe cold and dry. It’s de lumber-room for de whole ’stablishment, and +dere’s ebber so many funny and cur’us objects in it,” said the little +maid as she admitted Em. into the fourth room. + +“It is ‘a curiosity shop!’” exclaimed Em., looking around upon a +heterogeneous multitude of articles that seemed to be the collection of +a century—as most likely it was. + +There were costly fragments of furniture, curiously carved chair-backs +without seats; elaborately embroidered cushions without chairs; richly +gilded frames without pictures; old, disfigured pictures without frames; +busts without heads; statuettes without hands or feet; vases without +pedestals; or pedestals without vases, and an innumerable quantity of +other things too bewildering to contemplate. + +Em. took up one object after another with curious interest, until at +length her eyes fell upon a frameless, dusty, dark-looking picture, half +hidden among broken vases and crippled statuettes. + +It was the portrait of a youth in a midshipman’s uniform. + +Em. took her handkerchief and wiped the dusty face and looked at it. + +A bright, frank, boyish face; a pair of merry black eyes; a smiling lip, +shadowed by a slight mustache; a brown complexion and short, curling +black hair, met her gaze. + +The eyes seemed to meet hers with a mischievious, conscious twinkle, so +that she herself smiled into the smiling face. + +Her heart warmed and melted before it. + +“Oh, Liza,” she said, “is this a portrait, or is it a fancy sketch? Oh, +how life-like it is. And to be pushed away with all this rubbish! Is it +a portrait, Liza?” she eagerly inquired. + +“Which, Miss Em.? That? Oh, yes! That’s poor, dear Marse Lonny’s +pictur’,” replied the girl, approaching and holding the candle to it. + +“Who is Marse Lonny, Liza?” + +“Marse Lonny Bruce, miss, which was ole Marse Commodo’s onliest son, and +was lost at sea on his fust v’yage, in de Benighted States man-o’-war +_Eagle_, which it broke his mother’s heart to that degree as she pined +away and died in less than a year afterwards.” + +“I do not wonder, indeed,” said Em., gazing almost fondly on the bright +frank face before her. + +“And dey do say de commodo’ have never been de same man since. I don’t +memorize poor Marse Lonny as well as I ought to, he being ole marster’s +onliest son, and lost at sea; but, den, Miss Em., it ain’t my fault, +’cause I wasn’t born den; hows’ever, mammy memorizes all about him, and +de very day he got his middy’s new uniform, and de fust time he ever put +it on, which it is de self-same his portrait is painted in.” + +“And this is his portrait,” murmured Em. in a low voice as she knelt +down before the picture to get a nearer and a better view. + +“Yes, miss, de onliest portrait as he ebber had took, and it was took +that spring, jes’ ’fore he sailed on dat misfortnit v’yage whar he was +lost.” + +“And why is it poked away in the lumber-room? It seems a cruel slight.” + +“Oh, my dear Miss Em., ’cause de ole marster he nebber could endure de +sight ob it arter poor Marse Lonny was drowned. If ebber he come across +it by accident it would knock him ober for all day. His onliest son, you +know, Miss Em. So Mrs. Bruce, which hab kept house for ole marse ebber +since his wife died, Mrs. Bruce she put de picture—hung it up on de +wall, you know, miss, first in one room and den in t’other, but ole +marster was sure to come upon it in his rambles about the house some +time or other, and be upset for a whole day; so den de madam put it in +dis here garret lumber-room, whar nobody nebber comes, not eben ole +marster.” + +“Oh, Liza,” eagerly exclaimed Em., “since it is pushed away in this +rubbish room, do you think I might not have it in my room? If I were to +ask Mrs. Bruce do you think she would let me have it while I stay here?” + +“No call to bother de madam ’bout it. De madam gib me my orders to fix +up your room comfortable and ’tractive, and to take anything out ob de +lumber-room dat might be useful. And didn’t I take de fender and de +handy irons out ob de lumber-room and mightn’t I take de picture? Yes, +miss! I’ll take de picture and de ’sponsibility bofe!” said Liza; and +suiting the action to the word she gave Em. her candle, pulled away the +_impedimenti_ from before the portrait, lifted it from its place and +carried it away to the southwest room, followed by Em., bearing the two +lights. + +Em.’s looking-glass stood upon the dressing-table. There was no glass on +top of the old chest of drawers, but a good, vacant place for the +portrait, and there they set it. + +“Now, to-morrow, Miss Em., I’ll hunt over de lumber-room to try and find +a frame dat will fit it. It _used_ to have a frame of its own, but de +old madam took it to put another pictur’ in. Hows’ever, I know I can +find one to fit it there, ’cause you see, Miss Em., whenever I wants +anything as I haven’t got, and can’t get anywhere else, I takes a +broomstick and I goes up into the lumber-room, and I tosses up +everything till I finds what I want. So now, Miss Em., I bids you +good-night, and to-morrow we’ll frame de pictur’ and hang it up anywhere +you like,” said the kind-hearted colored girl as she left the room. + +Em. went to the door and watched until she heard Liza go all the way +downstairs and leave the house, locking the back door behind her. + +Then she returned to her own room, fastened herself in, and fell to the +contemplation of the portrait. + +The bright, frank, joyous face that seemed to smile in hers fascinated +her to such a degree that she could scarcely withdraw her gaze for a +moment from it. + +“I have read, or heard, that every one fated to die by any sudden or +violent catastrophe carries the shadow of the coming ill on brow or +cheek; but surely no prevision of early death darkens this glad young +face!” she murmured to herself as she gazed with infinite sympathy, +tenderness and compassion on this counterfeit presentment of the +unfortunate young midshipman. + +The sonorous hall clock began to strike eleven. Like hammer on anvil its +strokes rang through the house. Em., with a long, lingering gaze, left +the portrait and prepared for bed. + +So ended her first day at the mountain house. + +Em., wearied with the various fatigues and excitements of the time, +slept soundly until morning. + +She was finally awakened by a rap at her door and the voice of her +little maid calling: + +“It’s half-past seven, Miss Em., and de ladies has breakfas’ at eight.” + +“Quite right! I will be ready in time,” said Em. as soon as she had +collected her scattered senses and remembered where she was; for, +indeed, on being first aroused from her sleep she could scarcely “place +herself.” + +“Please to open de door and let me in to make your fire, Miss Em.,” said +Liza. + +Em. jumped out of the bed and complied with the request. + +Then her eyes fell upon the pictured face of Lonny Bruce—brighter, +gladder, more joyous looking by the morning light than it had seemed the +evening before. + +Em. greeted it with such a smile as she would have given to a living and +beloved face, and then while her little maid kindled her fire she made +her simple morning toilet. + +She made such good haste that when she reached the breakfast-room she +found none of the family except Ronald Bruce. + +“Good-morning, Em. I was in hopes you would be down first, so I came +here on purpose to wait for you, Em. I want you to promise to marry me.” + +“Oh, Ronald, you know I cannot do that without the knowledge and consent +of all your family and all mine,” replied Em. + +“Well, but _with_ their knowledge and consent,” urged the young man. + +“They will never, _never_ give it, Ronald! Your family are too proud to +consent to receive the daughter of a poor overseer as a relative. And +_my_ family are much too proud to permit their daughter to enter any +household where she would not be most welcome.” + +“But, Em., what in the Blue Dees do you mean? Is the wicked, diabolical +pride of your old folks and mine to interfere with our lives, so as to +make us both miserable all our days?” + +“I don’t know, Ronald; but we must do what is right.” + +Ronald’s impatient reply was checked by the entrance of Commodore Bruce, +who greeted his nephew and the young girl kindly, and then growled as +usual at the _punctual unpunctuality_ of the ladies of his household. + +“You can never rely on them but for one thing, and that is for always +being behind time. Ah! here they are at last!” + +The ladies entered, interchanged the morning salutations, and then they +all went to breakfast. + +It was not until they were all seated at the table that Commodore Bruce +missed Mrs. Warde, and said: + +“Well, how is Malvina? Is she not sufficiently recovered from her +hysterics yet to come down?” + +“Mamma does not feel strong enough to rise this morning, but she will +try to join us at dinner in the evening,” Belinda explained. + +The breakfast was then discussed, and when it was over and the family +party arose from the table, Em. was about to leave the room when again +the old commodore stopped her, saying: + +“My dear, don’t run away! I want you to finish reading the papers for +me, and I will promise not to go to sleep. I never go to sleep in the +forenoon, however.” + +Em. looked at Mrs. Bruce for directions. + +“Go with the commodore, child,” said that lady condescendingly. + +Em. followed the old man to the library, where he seated himself in his +easy-chair, lay back at rest, and pointed to another chair, telling Em. +to draw it up, seat herself and commence reading. + +Em. obeyed him and spent the whole forenoon in perusing the papers. + +It was nearly two o’clock when she got through. + +“Well, now, my dear, you have given me a great deal of pleasure, and I +thank you; but I will not trouble you again until Friday. The mails come +in but twice a week to Greyrock—on Tuesdays and Fridays. Then I get my +papers, and you shall read them to me. Go now and take a run in the +fresh air until luncheon. Young blood requires a great deal of oxygen. +Go.” + +Em. wished to say something, but could not think what. She turned to go; +then looked over her shoulder, and seeing the pale, gray, feeble old +man, with his chin bowed upon his breast in an attitude of depression, +weakness and sorrow, her heart was filled with compassionate tenderness +for him, and she lingered, looking lovingly on him. + +One thin, white, withered hand hung down by his side. With a sudden +impulse of strange affection she stepped forward, raised the hand to her +lips, dropped it, and would have hurried away; but the hand she had +kissed was laid in benediction on her bright young head as the old man +murmured: + +“God bless you, my child! How kindly that was meant. Go now and take +your walk.” + +Em. left the room, ran up to her attic chamber for hat and shawl, and +then ran downstairs out of the house to the stony front yard overlooking +the descent of the precipice. + +Here she was quickly joined by Ronald Bruce, who had seen her from the +front drawing-room windows and ran out into the place. + +“Em.,” he whispered as he joined her, “you have not answered my question +yet. Are we both to be made miserable all our lives by the sinful pride +of our relatives?” + +“Yes, I did answer you, Ronald; but I will answer you again. We cannot +tell how this will end; but whatever other people do, _we_ must do what +is right. And, Ronald, if you _do_ care for me, as I believe, please do +not follow me about or try to meet me anywhere. It is not discreet. Now +do but look! There is Miss Belinda Warde watching us from the front +parlor windows!” + +Ronald turned to catch a glimpse of the lady’s face, which was withdrawn +the instant it was detected. + +“I am going in,” said Em. + +“So am I,” said Ronald. “I only came out here to speak to you, and I +don’t care if all the fine ladies in Christendom watch me. I will let +them see that I love you, Em.; for I _do_ love you, and I _will_ marry +you in spite of them all.” + +They returned to the house and Em. ran upstairs to get ready for lunch. + +Ronald went into the drawing-room, sulkily threw himself into a chair, +took up a book and pretended to be absorbed in reading, in order to +escape any interchange of words with Miss Warde. + +But still he did not feel any more at ease when Belinda, with an +offended air, arose and left the room. + +The family met at luncheon. + +Commodore Bruce treated Em. with more than previous kindness; but the +sensitive girl perceived a shadow of coldness in the manner of the +ladies towards her, and she wondered whether Miss Warde had not been +making mischief by certain misrepresentations. + +After luncheon, just as the ladies were about to leave the room, Mrs. +Bruce called to Em.: + +“Miss Palmer, I wish to speak with you alone. Follow me to my room.” + +“I was going there, madam, to resume my needlework,” replied Em. as she +obeyed the directions of the lady. + +When they had reached Mrs. Bruce’s chamber the latter inquired: + +“When is your father coming for you, Miss Palmer?” + +“On Saturday evening, madam, when he will take me home to stay over +Sunday, if you please,” modestly and respectfully replied the girl. + +“Very well. It pleases me quite well. And you need not take the trouble +to return on Monday. I shall have no further occasion for your services +after this week,” said the lady with cold hauteur. + +Em. turned deadly sick at heart and ghastly pale with mortification and +disappointment. + +But before her faltering lips could form a reply another voice came from +the open door, saying defiantly: + +“I am very glad to hear that, madam; for after this week I shall require +all the young lady’s society all to myself. Yes, and with her consent I +mean to retain it just so long as we both shall live.” + + + + + CHAPTER XII + LOVE IN THE TOILS + + You may as well go stand upon the beach + And bid the main flood bate his usual height; + You may as well use question with the wolf + Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb; + You may as well go bid the mountain pines + Still their high tops and make no further noise, + When they are fretted with the gusts of heaven; + You may as well do anything most hard, + As seek to alter that (than which, what’s firmer?)— + His stubborn heart. + SHAKESPEARE. + + +The speaker was Commodore Bruce, who stood in the doorway, with one hand +leaning on his ivory-headed cane and the other against the frame of the +door. + +“Oh, it is you, uncle! You quite startled me. Please come in,” said Mrs. +Bruce, recovering from her momentary panic. + +“Thank you. I intended to,” said the old man, advancing and sinking into +the great cushioned arm-chair which Em., rallying from her shock, had +wheeled for his accommodation. + +“Sit down, child; it is not good for young spines to stand up too much,” +he added as he settled himself comfortably. + +Em. took a chair at a little distance and picked up the needlework on +which she had been engaged the day before. + +“You say you will not require the services of this young lady after next +Saturday?” inquired the commodore. + +“Yes, I have told her so; the work we have on hand will be finished by +that time, and I shall have no more for her,” answered Mrs. Bruce, +considerably modifying the tones of haughtiness and contempt with which +she had spoken to the poor girl. + +“I am very glad to hear you say so, for I would like to have her +services all to myself, to read or write for me.” + +“But, my dear uncle, Ronald would be most happy to do all this for you.” + +“Yes, and look confoundedly bored all the time. No; I want this girl.” + +“If you must have a young girl, I am sure our niece, Hermia, would be +delighted to——” + +“Well, I shouldn’t, then; there!” + +“Or I, myself, if you would accept my services, would be——” + +“Thanks, very much, my dear, I will not trouble you.” + +“Well, then, there is Mrs. Warde, who really is a very fine +elocutionist——” + +“But I don’t want to be elocutionized; particularly by Mrs. Warde. +Malvina is a fine woman for her age, but she has a voice between a +trumpet and a hand-saw. I want Miss Palmer and no one else,” persisted +the veteran. + +“One would really think the poor fool was in love with the girl and +meant to marry her! But, still, that is not very likely,” said Mrs. +Bruce to herself with a shrug of her handsome shoulders. + +She did not, however, proffer the services of the only remaining lady of +the household—Miss Belinda Warde; for she could not tell what other +matrimonial whim might enter into the old man’s mind or be put into it +by the constant presence of the handsome brunette. + +“I am sure, uncle, if you will permit me, I could find a much more +suitable companion than this young girl,” rather sulkily persisted Mrs. +Bruce. + +“Thanks, very much, my dear; but _I_ think the companion that _suits_ me +best is the most _suitable_. I say I will have Miss Palmer. Let the +question rest. Come here, my child.” (This was to Em.) + +The young girl laid down her work and came to the side of the old man, +who took her hand and looked benignly in her face. + +Em. smiled, though her tears were ready to start. + +“Where did you get my Lonny’s smiling eyes, my dear? You are like a boy +I lost long years ago, Miss Palmer—a brave boy, and a handsome one, or +you could not be like him. You are very like him, my dear—with one of +those accidental likenesses that are sometimes found to exist between +those of no kin. It is not in your complexion or features, for you are +fair and fragile, while my poor lost Lonny was dark and strong—but it is +so in your smile—so in your whole expression of countenance, that I +could almost fancy my Lonny’s purified soul looked from out of your blue +eyes. It is very strange; but I cannot endure the sight of his portrait, +though I love to see his likeness in you. I think I partly understand +the reason, however,” continued the veteran, dropping his head in +meditation, while his white beard flowed to his waist. “Yes, I think I +see it, ‘as in a glass, darkly’—that portrait was the perfect image of +his material body, as I used to see it—the material body which has +perished; and which, because it has perished, I cannot bear to see in +its ‘counterfeit.’ But that which looks at me from your fair face is the +likeness of my son’s living soul; therefore I love to contemplate it.” + +“How the old dotard drivels!” thought Mrs. Bruce. “He’ll soon be a +subject for the lunatic asylum.” + +“But that is not the point now, my dear,” continued the old man, still +holding the hand of Em. “The question at issue is whether, when you have +completed your term of service with my sister-in-law, you will enter +mine, as my reader and writer?” + +Em. paused for a moment and then, raising her blue eyes full of the +reverential, filial tenderness she felt for the childless old man, +answered earnestly: + +“Indeed, I should be so very happy to do so, if only Mrs. Bruce and my +mother will consent.” + +“Ha! ha! ha! _Mrs. Bruce_ will consent! I’ll swear to that! And if you +have half the influence with your mother that I have with Mrs. Bruce, +_she’ll_ consent. If she does not I’ll try my ‘’prentice hand’ at +persuasion, and it will go hard but she shall give you up to me,” +chuckled the old man. + +“As for _myself_, uncle, you know that your will has always been my +law,” said the lady. + +“Oh, I know it; I know it, my dear,” said the commodore. “And now, +little one,” he continued, turning to Em., “go and take a run in the +grounds. Too much house is not good for little girls. I want to talk +with my sister-in-law.” + +Em. turned to her employer for direction. + +“Come! Run away! run away!” exclaimed the veteran. + +“Do as you are bidden,” loftily commanded Mrs. Bruce. + +“SCAT!” stamped the commodore. + +Em. laughed and ran out. + +“Now, then, madam, what the demon does all this mean?” demanded the +commodore. + +“All what mean? I don’t understand,” replied Mrs. Bruce. + +“Oh, yes, you do. Yesterday you could not, any of you, be too kind to +that poor girl. To-day you, all of you, so overwhelmed the child with +your studied coldness and contempt that she looked as if she were going +to expire at the lunch-table. I could scarcely stand it myself, and so, +to counteract the effect of your combined rudeness, I was obliged to be +obtrusively attentive to Miss Palmer. I knew perfectly well when I saw +you leave the lunch-table and order that girl to follow you to your room +you were sharpening your claws and whetting your teeth and licking your +chops in anticipation of a meal off her!” + +“Commodore Bruce! What MONSTROUS ideas you have!” exclaimed the +horrified lady. “Am I a vampire, or a cannibal?” + +“Well, yes; in some sense you are. I do not mean to say that, having +lunched on chicken-pie, cold ham and custard, you are going to dine on +Em. immediately. No, but you were going to glut your pride and surfeit +your anger and satisfy your selfishness on her, all the same, which is a +wickeder sort of cannibalism than the other, since it devours the +spirit. That child has most innocently offended you all. Now I want to +know in what manner. And I _will_ know; for while I am captain of this +ship—master of this house, I mean—no woman shall be treated with +coldness and cruelty while under my roof, and especially when at my +table. Come.” + +“Well, uncle, since you _will_ have it, I acknowledge that Miss Palmer +_has_ offended me—has offended us all; therefore I really do not think +that you should keep her here as you propose to do, or that you will +keep her when you have heard all about her.” + +“I’ll be shot to death if I don’t,” said the commodore. “But how has +that harmless girl offended you? By her beauty, grace and sweetness? I +know of no other cause. In what way has she offended you, I ask?” + +“In a way that would have offended any woman with a proper sense of +modesty and decorum.” + +“But by what _means_? By what _means_?” impatiently demanded the +veteran. + +“By the general indiscretion of her conduct,” coldly replied the lady. + +“By Jove! I will not take such an answer!” roared the old commodore, +bringing his fist down upon the table like a hammer upon an anvil, and +making every article on it dance. “You would ruin an innocent girl’s +reputation with a few generalities like that! I—will—know,” he continued +slowly and emphatically, telling off every word with a thump of his +stick. “I—will—know—every detail of—time, place, and company—word, act, +and look of the indiscretion with which you charge this child! Yes, and +I will have them established by more than one competent witness! None of +your unsupported generalities for me! I have made myself the advocate of +this innocent girl, and will see that she suffers no wrong. No, by Jove! +While I’m commander of this ship—captain of this house, I mean—no woman +in it shall suffer injury unavenged! No, in a few words tell me +distinctly what the girl has said or done!” + +“Well, I do not think that you will be any better satisfied when you +have heard,” said Mrs. Bruce maliciously. “This is her offense, then: +She has been here but two days, and has been detected several times in +private conversation with my son, your nephew, Ronald Bruce, who follows +her about wherever she goes! There! now you have it!” + +“He—he—he! Ha—ha—ha! Ho—ho—ho!” laughed the commodore. “That’s a great +offence, now, isn’t it? As if it wasn’t perfectly natural and right for +a young man to follow a young girl around when they are both shut up in +a lonely country house with a lot of old ladies!” + +“Hermia Templeton is not old, at least, and I think she is more +interested in this matter than any one else,” gravely replied Mrs. +Bruce. + +“That is true,” mused the commodore—“I beg Hermia’s pardon. She is not +old. She is young and pretty and attractive enough for any man, and a +great deal too good for my young rascal of a nephew: but as she is to +marry him, whether or no, of course she has more at stake in this +running than any one else! But now tell me the particulars—the +particulars! Time, place, and circumstance! You know I told you that I +would have the details and have them proved!” + +Mrs. Bruce told the whole story of Ronald’s and Em.’s meetings and +talks, in the drawing-room, in the dining-room, in the library, and in +the grounds. She told it, not as it is known to you and me, reader, but +with many an exaggeration and much false coloring, as she had heard it +from Mrs. Warde and Miss Belinda—for, ill as Malvina was, or affected to +be, she was not too ill to play the part of an eavesdropper and a +detractor. And since Em. had been in the house there was no harmless +interview she had had with her honest suitor to which either the +designing mother or daughter had not been an unseen listener. + +“This must be looked into,” said Commodore Bruce, very much more gravely +than he had yet spoken. “Yes, this must be seen to. I must give that +young scamp a sound lecture! for, mind you, it is _he_ who is in fault, +though, woman-like, you put the whole blame upon her! It is he who is to +blame, and very much to blame, for he is pursuing her and trifling with +her when he knows very well, the rascal! that he must marry my niece, +Hermia Templeton, or go to the deuce! While I am commander of this +ship—I mean master of this house—I won’t have it! Still, let me tell +you, madam, that I despise the means by which these women have detected +these interviews. They could have done so only by eavesdropping! And, +oh, Lord! how I do loathe and detest eavesdroppers!” exclaimed the +veteran with every expression of disgust and abhorrence disfiguring his +fine old face as he arose from his seat and, leaning on his stick, +turned to depart. + +Before leaving the room he paused and said: + +“I shall say nothing to Ronald to-day. I have had quite enough of +excitement for one day—more of it would spoil my dinner and my night’s +rest—perhaps ruin my digestion and my nervous system! So no more of this +subject for the present. I want to relish my turkey and enjoy a good +night’s sleep. To-morrow morning after breakfast I will take my young +gentleman in hand, and we will go over the chart of his life voyage +together, and I will show him his course. To make things surer, I will +also speak to my young lady. But, in the meantime, I desire you and your +friends in the house to treat this young girl with consideration and +kindness. Let them know, if you please, that such is my will. I shall +see in a moment, by the look of that child’s face, whether she has been +treated with contempt while out of my sight.” + +With these words the veteran left the room. + +Mrs. Bruce cared very little for the _brusquerie_ of the old sailor, so +that he had given his promise to break up the intimacy between her son +and her seamstress. + +Indeed, her reason for the severe course she took towards Em. was rather +the desire to put a prompt and final stop to the acquaintance between +the young people than any dislike to the girl herself. + +Meantime Em. had gone out to the grounds for a walk, but seeing Ronald +Bruce approaching from the house she quickly passed around to a side +door, entered it, and ran up to her room, where she arranged her simple +toilet for dinner. + +Em. dreaded meeting the family again at the table; but when the bell +rang and she went down and found them all assembled in the dining-room, +and Commodore Bruce advanced, took her hand and led her to her seat, and +all looked kindly or with perfect indifference on her, she felt more at +her ease. + +“Mrs. Warde, permit me to name to you my young friend, Miss Palmer here, +who has not had the privilege of being presented to you before,” said +the commodore with somewhat stilted politeness to a tall, dark, +haggard-looking woman, with great black eyes, who sat opposite to Em., +and who was richly dressed in black velvet, lace and bugles, and whom +Em. immediately recognized as the lady who had fainted at the sight of +herself in the upper hall. + +Em. arose from her chair and bent her head. + +Mrs. Warde stared and returned the salutation with a slight and haughty +nod. + +That was all. They were as much strangers as before the introduction. +The dinner went on; other people spoke to Em. from time to time, but +Mrs. Warde scarcely noticed her at all, or only by a furtive, nervous +glance. + +As soon as the dinner was over the family party adjourned to the +drawing-room—with one exception, that of Ronald Bruce—who sulkily +absented himself from the domestic circle that night. + +The old commodore, seated in his soft-cushioned, big arm-chair, made a +point of talking to Em. until he fell fast asleep. + +The ladies of the house gathered around a large center-table that stood +under a lighted chandelier, and before the ruddy open fire of hickory +logs, where, having few intellectual resources, they busied themselves +with crochet and gossip. + +Em., having no taste for either of these pursuits, sat apart, near the +sleeping old man, and wondered what they were all doing at home, and +whether Ronald Bruce would make his appearance at all in the +drawing-room that evening. + +He did not; and, therefore, upon the whole, Em. spent another one of the +dullest evenings she had ever passed in her life. + +When the hour of ten, their sober bedtime, struck, and the circle broke, +Em. was glad. + +But as she was about to leave the room the old commodore, awakened by +the general movement, aroused himself, got up from his chair and took +her hand, saying kindly: + +“Good-night, and may the Lord bless you, my dear child!” + +“And you, too, sir,” replied Em. in a low, timid, but earnest tone as +she bowed over his wrinkled hand and then left the room. + +She glanced up and down the hall in the hope of seeing Ronald Bruce, to +give him good-night. She could scarcely help doing this; indeed, she was +scarcely conscious of doing it; for if she had met him, waylaying her, +to speak a word, she would certainly and very properly have rebuked him +for doing so. + +Yet she heaved a deep sigh of disappointment when she had passed all the +way upstairs without seeing him. + +When Em. entered her cheerful room in the attic she found the candles on +the dressing-table lighted, the fire burning brightly, and the little +maid, Liza, waiting. + +“Cold night, Miss Em., ain’t it? ’Spect dere’ll be a mighty heavy frost, +if not snow, ’fore mornin’. We had snow airlier’n dis last year,” said +Liza as she pushed up a chair nearer the fire. + +“Then I suppose you must have winter much earlier on these mountains +than we ever have on the plains where I was brought up,” answered Em. + +“Well, you see, miss, I dunno nuffin’ ’tall ’bout de wedder ’way down +dere. I nebber libbed on de plains, _my_se’f. Dunno how anybody can lib +so far, far down below de sky! You was right to come up here, Miss Em. +Well, I only just waited till you come, Miss Em., to see if you has +everything you ’quire. _Has_ you?” + +“Oh, yes, indeed, Liza; thank you.” + +“Well, den, I must go. I got to go to Miss Melwiny Warde’s room and rub +her feet till she goes to sleep, the Lord help her; She’s an awful bad +sleeper, she is, and sometimes I has to set at de foot of her bed and +rub her feet half de night ’fore she gets quiet. Wonder to me is how she +can’t read her chapter in de Bible, and say her prayers, and go to sleep +like a Christian. Well, good-night, Miss Em., I reckon _you_ can go to +sleep ’dout having of your feet rubbed, can’t you?” + +“Oh, yes,” smiled Em. as the girl left the room. + +The bright fire shone on the portrait of Lonny Bruce, so that the merry, +mischievous young face beamed out in full light. + +“Ah, you beautiful and happy boy, what a dreadful fate was yours!” +murmured Em., standing before the picture. “And your poor, bereaved old +father fancies that I look like you; and so he loves me for your sake! I +wonder if I do look like you—I, who am so fair, while you are so dark—I, +who am so steady, while you look so wild! But, perhaps, you had your +grave seasons as I sometimes have my gay spells! Oh, dear me, I wonder +why Ronald Bruce did not come in the drawing-room all the evening! And +did not even try to bid me good-night! I know it is on his account that +Mrs. Bruce gave me warning to leave her service so suddenly. But the +dear old commodore, whom I love so much, likes me, and is kind to me. I +wonder, oh, I wonder, if he will ever consent that his nephew may marry +me! What is the use of thinking about that? I will say my prayers and go +to sleep.” + +And so she did. + + + + + CHAPTER XIII + “OLD HEADS AND YOUNG HEARTS” + + I must be cruel only to be kind. + SHAKESPEARE. + + +The next morning Em. awoke to the memory of the preceding day’s +events—her unkind dismissal by Mrs. Bruce; her immediate engagement by +Commodore Bruce; Ronald’s unaccountable absence from his mother’s +drawing-room circle, and his strange omission to appear somewhere about +the halls of the staircases to bid Em. good-night on her way to her +room. + +She felt a strong impulse to arise and dress quickly and hurry down to +the breakfast-room, in the probability of seeing Ronald before any one +else should be there. + +She acted on this impulse; but by the time she had finished her simple +toilet, reason had come to check impulse, and prudence to warn her that +she must not seek an interview with her lover, and, furthermore, that +she must not even risk an accidental meeting with Ronald Bruce if she +would avoid giving new cause of offence. + +So, instead of hastening down to the breakfast-room, Em. seated herself +at her chamber window with a piece of needlework in her hand and sewed +until the breakfast bell rang, and then, to make sure of not meeting +Ronald alone, she waited five minutes after the bell had stopped +ringing, for she concluded that it would be better that she should be a +little late at the table than that she should give umbrage by a +_tête-à-tête_ with Ronald. + +She went leisurely downstairs and entered the breakfast-room, expecting +to find all the family at the table. + +She found no one present except Ronald Bruce, who stood on the rug with +his back to the fire impatiently waiting for her. + +“Em.!” he exclaimed, stepping forward and taking her hand, “I have been +here half an hour, hoping you would be down early, perhaps earlier than +usual, because we could not see each other last night. Why are you so +late?” he inquired reproachfully. + +“I am not late, Ronald. None of the family except yourself have yet come +down. But, oh, Ronald! please do not plan to see me alone. Your having +done so has already caused trouble. That was the reason why at lunch +yesterday the ladies treated me so coldly——” + +“Impertinently, insolently, _I_ call it! I saw it all, Em., and my blood +boiled! But what can a man do with such women, except to avoid them?” + +“But they were kinder to me at dinner,” said Em. apologetically. + +“‘Kinder!’ They behaved towards you with proper politeness, that was +all, and I know to whose power that must be attributed! The old +commodore had ‘put his foot down’ to that effect, I feel sure. But, Em., +I could not join those women in the drawing-room last night, when I felt +that I should not be able to play the hypocrite and treat Miss Warde or +her mother with the respect I could not feel for them, with the respect +a man should always, and under all circumstances, show women. So to +avoid them I absented myself from the drawing-room. I went up to my +chamber, locked myself in, hated all my fellow-creatures except you, +Em., and read satires in the original Greek all the evening.” + +“And so that was the reason why you did not come to bid—any of +us—good-night,” said Em. + +“That, yes, that was one reason why I did not come to bide—_any of +you_—good-night. But that was not the only reason. I was making up my +mind and coming to a conclusion that I shall act upon to-day.” + +“Oh, Ronald!” exclaimed Em., startled by his expression, “I hope you +will never do or say anything to distress your good old uncle! His past +life has been so full of trouble. His remaining days are few. Let them +at least be filled with peace.” + +“I must speak to him to-day, however, for your sake, Em.” + +“Oh, no, no, no! It were must better that you should give me up +altogether than bring discord to the last days of one to whom you owe so +much!” exclaimed Em. + +“To give you up, Em., would be to give up my freedom of choice in a +matter where the whole happiness of my life and that of my chosen one is +concerned! That would be too heavy a price to pay, even for the great +benefits I have received at my uncle’s hands. No, Em., I will never, +never give you up!” said the young man earnestly. + +“WHAT!” exclaimed the voice of the commodore. + +Both the young people started as at a thunder-clap and looked around to +see the old man, leaning on his stick, as he advanced slowly into the +room. + +“No one down but two? But, then, you are always down first, and ought to +have a medal for punctuality!” he continued as he paused and leaned more +heavily upon his stick. + +Ronald stepped quickly to his side and gave him the support of an arm, +while Em. wheeled the big arm-chair to the fire. + +Both the young people were filled with painful doubts as to whether or +not the old commodore had heard the concluding words of Ronald’s +impetuous speech. Their countenances were full of confusion, nor were +their minds set at rest by the next words of the old man, who, as soon +as he had sunk into his seat, turned a rather severe eye upon his nephew +and said: + +“‘My handsome young man,’ I have something very serious to say to you. +Come to my room immediately after breakfast; I will meet you there.” + +“Very well, sir. I will be punctual, the more so because I have an +important communication to make to you,” replied Ronald. + +“Oh, indeed!” exclaimed the old commodore. + +The entrance of the ladies here put an end to the topic. + +They greeted the party in the breakfast-room, received the commodore’s +rebukes for their tardiness very good-humoredly, and gathered around the +table. + +As the meal progressed Ronald was taken to task for his desertion of the +preceding evening. + +He coldly excused himself by saying that he had been engaged in reading +Greek and trying to solve a problem. + +Miss Belinda hoped that he had succeeded in doing so. + +Ronald said dryly that he hoped he had. + +When breakfast was over Em. followed Mrs. Bruce to her sitting-room, +where that lady filled her hands with needlework enough to last her all +day long and left her alone. + +Meanwhile Ronald Bruce repaired to his uncle’s study, fully resolved to +avow his love for Em. and ask his uncle’s consent to marry her; but he +thought that, as in duty bound, he would defer his communication until +he should have heard what his uncle had to say to him. + +When he entered the study he found the old man seated in his big +leathern chair by the long study table. + +There was an empty chair placed exactly opposite to him. + +“Take this seat before me, that we may look each other in the face as we +speak,” said the commodore with an emphatic rap upon the one indicated. + +Ronald sat down, folded his hands before him, and waited with the air of +a rebellious child about to be catechized or reprimanded. + +The old commodore on his part dropped his head on his chest and +reflected for a few moments before opening the discussion. + +At length, however, he looked up, drew a long breath, and began: + +“Ronald, I asked you to come here that I might talk to you on a very +painful and very delicate subject, and I scarcely know how to open it.” + +He paused and looked at his nephew; but that young gentleman said +nothing to help him out. + +“Perhaps you yourself may have some suspicion of the subject?” suggested +the commodore. + +“Is it Miss Palmer?” sulkily inquired the young man. + +“Yes, it is Em. Palmer. Ronald, I do not wish to be hard on you. You are +but a young man, shut up in a very dull country house with a very +beautiful and attractive young girl. You could scarcely help falling a +little in love with her, so I cannot blame you for that; but, Ronald, if +you have let her perceive your love you have done wrong; and if you have +won her love in return you have done very wrong.” + +Ronald started, flushed, and was about to speak, when his uncle raised +his hand and said: + +“Hear me out, your turn will come presently.” + +“But I _must_ speak now. I never intended any wrong to Em.—never, so +help me Heaven!” burst forth Ronald. + +“I quite believe it,” the commodore promptly admitted. “Yet you have +already wronged her more than you know.” + +“How? how?” impetuously demanded the young man. + +“By your thoughtless pursuit of her since she has been in this house. By +following her, lying in wait for her, meeting her in the breakfast-room, +in the study, in the grounds, anywhere, in short, where you could find +her alone. And this you have done without her connivance, I firmly +believe!” + +“Heaven knows that is true! Em. herself has rebuked me for pursuing her; +and yet I meant her no wrong, as I soon hope to prove to you.” + +“I need no proof. I know you, Ronald, and, therefore, I am sure you +meant no harm; and yet, as I said before, you have by this conduct done +her grievous wrong. You have drawn upon her the invidious notice of +evil-thinking women. Do you know what happened yesterday?” suddenly +inquired the commodore, breaking off in his discourse. + +“I know that our lady guests presumed to treat Miss Palmer with +insolence! But they will find——” + +“Never mind what they will find. There was something worse than that +happened! these women’s tongues obliged my sister-in-law to dismiss the +girl from her service.” + +Ronald sprang to his feet. + +“Did my mother have the cruelty to do that?” he exclaimed. + +“She could not help herself, with those two women nagging her on! But I +was determined the child should not be sent back to her mother in that +discreditable manner, and so I immediately engaged her as my reader and +writer, and conveyed a hint to those ladies that they would oblige me by +treating her with proper consideration. Since that, I must say, they +have behaved better.” + +“I thought the improvement in their manner to Miss Palmer was brought +about through your interference; but I had no idea that she had passed +from my mother’s service into yours,” said Ronald. + +“She has not yet done so. She was warned to leave Mrs. Bruce’s +employment on next Saturday, when her father will come for her. She is +to come back and enter mine on Monday—unless her parents should raise +some objection, which I do not think likely—_or_, unless you should +persist in your dangerous pursuit of her.” + +“‘Dangerous!’ sir?” echoed the young man. + +“Yes, dangerous! Dangerous to her peace, honor and reputation!” + +“But, sir, you misunderstand me, quite. I love Em.!” + +“Then you are very foolish.” + +“I have told her that I love her!” + +“You were very rash to do so.” + +“And, moreover, I know that I have won her love!” + +“Then, Ronald Brace, you have been very much to blame. How will you ever +answer to her, or to your own conscience, for that child’s disappointed +heart and lost happiness?” sternly demanded the old commodore. + +“My good uncle, I told you that you totally misapprehended me, and I +repeat it. I do not intend to disappoint Em. Her happiness shall be the +first object and fondest care of my life,” earnestly exclaimed Ronald. + +“What—in the deuce—do you mean?” slowly demanded Commodore Bruce, +staring at his nephew with distended eyes. + +“What do I mean, do you ask, sir? What does any honorable man mean when +he says that he loves a good young girl, that he has told her so, and +that he intends to marry her?” exclaimed Ronald Bruce somewhat +impatiently, as at his hearer’s want of comprehension. + +“Eh? What? What the foul fiend are you saying to me, Ronald?” demanded +the provoked and puzzled old man. + +“I say that with your consent, sir, I will marry Em. Palmer,” firmly +replied the young man. + +“Marry—Em.—Palmer?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“You are raving mad! You are fit for nothing but a strait jacket and a +lunatic asylum! Marry Em. Palmer! Why, even if she were your equal in +birth, position, and education you could not do so; for you are to marry +Hermia Templeton, you know.” + +“Indeed, I did not know it! No word or look of love has ever passed +between me and Hermia. We like each other well enough as cousins, but +_not_ enough to marry—especially as she loves another man and I another +woman!” recklessly replied Ronald. + +“Then you are a very disobedient, rebellious, and unmanageable young +couple! That is all I have to say. But I shall talk to Hermia and bring +her to reason. And as for you, Ronald, I shall expect you to give up +this insane whim and make up your mind to marry Hermia Templeton. You +two are my heirs, and you should marry and keep the property together.” + +“I should be very sorry to disappoint you, uncle; but honor as well as +love is engaged in this, and I cannot and will not give up the girl I +love. I must and will marry Emolyn Palmer,” firmly responded Ronald +Bruce. + +“Come, come, now, nephew!” said the old man as soothingly as he would +have talked to a sick and delirious patient. “Come, come, listen to +reason! I can understand and appreciate your feelings! yes, better than +you can yourself. This love of yours is a delusion of the senses, a mere +hallucination that is sure to pass away whether you marry the object of +it or not! If you were to marry that young girl under your present +illusions they would pass away in a few months. You would cease to love +her; but you would never cease to regret that you had so hastily married +her. Unfitted for each other in birth, culture, position, and +everything, your wedded life would be a life of misery to both! Think of +this while there is yet time, and withdraw from this contemplated and +most insane idea of marriage! I will say no more to you at present. Go +and think of what I have said to you, and said with the most unselfish +desire to promote your happiness,” said Commodore Bruce, rising as a +signal that the interview was ended. + +“I thank you, sir, for your great kindness to me in this as in all other +matters. But I must not leave you under any false impressions. I love +Em., and have won her love. I am of age and can do as I please. My pay +as a lieutenant in the navy will support my wife in moderate comfort. +Therefore, I shall certainly marry Emolyn Palmer just as soon as I can +induce her to fix a day. I say this not in defiance of your wishes, sir, +but that there may be no misapprehension of my intentions,” concluded +the young man as he bowed and retired. + +“Stubborn as a mule,” said the commodore as he sank back in his seat. “I +must see the girl. With her I shall have more success.” + + + + + CHAPTER XIV + CRUEL TO BE KIND + + When I had seen this hot love on the wing, + As I perceived it first, I tell you that, + If I had played the desk, or table book, + Or given my heart a winking mute and dumb, + Or looked upon this love with idle sight— + What might you think? No, I went round to work, + And my young mistress thus did I bespeak: + “This must not be”; and then I precepts gave her, + That she should keep herself from his resort, + Admit no messengers, receive no tokens, + Which done, she took the fruits of my advice, + And him repulsed. + SHAKESPEARE. + + +Em. was sitting alone in Mrs. Bruce’s room, her hands busily engaged +with needlework and her thought with something else, when the little +maid, Liza, entered and said: “Miss Em., ole Marse Commodore sent me to +ax yer how he want to see yer in the study.” + +The young girl, who thought that Commodore Bruce only wanted her to read +to him, promptly laid aside her work and arose, saying: + +“Very well. I will go at once; and, Liza, will you please to tell Mrs. +Bruce that the commodore has sent for me, so that she may know why I am +absent?” + +“Yes, miss, I’ll tell her; but, la! marse is marse and missus bofe here! +Nobody ain’t no call to make no ’scuses to any missus when ole marse +wants ’em, I tell you that,” replied Liza as she followed the seamstress +from the room. + +Em. went down to the study. + +She found the old man still in his dressing-gown and skull-cap, seated +in his leathern arm-chair beside the table. + +The chair just vacated by Ronald Bruce still stood before him. + +As Em. entered he leaned back wearily and sighed. + +“You sent for me, sir,” said the girl as she drew near. + +“Yes, child. Take this seat in front of me. I wish to talk to you,” he +answered gently. + +Em. sat down, feeling somewhat embarrassed to be so near and so directly +under the eyes of Commodore Bruce. + +But the old man gazed kindly down on her drooping face and thought how +much it looked like that of his poor lost boy, Lonny, when the latter +was a lad and was under rebuke for some childish fault. + +“Do not be afraid of me, my dear,” he said gently, as he observed her +confusion. + +“I am not afraid, only——” Em. began and stopped. + +“You are not afraid, only you are _afraid_. You think I am going to talk +to you of Ronald. Is it not so?” + +Em. could not speak; she bowed and caught her breath. + +“You are right, my child,” answered the commodore, and then he dropped +his head upon his chest until his long gray beard swept to his waist, +and he fell into silent thought. + +It had been hard to open the subject with the young man; it was very +much harder to do so with the young girl. + +At length he raised his head, and looking at her very kindly, said: + +“Little Em., I do not know that I can give you a wiser lesson or do you +a greater service than by telling you two little incidents in my life’s +experience as examples. Will you listen?” + +“Yes, sir,” breathed the girl in tones so low that the words scarcely +reached his ears. + +“When I was a young man I fell desperately in love. You smile, Em.; but +fifty years ago I _was_ a young man of twenty years, and, as I said, +desperately in love with a pretty, amiable but illiterate and +humbly-born girl. I wished to marry her, but my father and mother were +bitterly opposed to the match. The controversy ran high. It almost +estranged me from my parents. At length there was a compromise. I agreed +to wait a year until I should be of age before proposing to my love. And +they agreed, in the event of my continuing to desire the marriage at the +end of that time, to withdraw their opposition. I was soon after ordered +to sea for a three years’ voyage. The end of that time found me at the +antipodes—at the port of Canton—more interested in the manners and +customs of the Chinese than in the image of ‘the girl I left behind me.’ +Even if it had been practical for me to do so, I know that I should not +then have claimed my parents’ promise of their consent to my proposal of +marriage to her. I had got over my ‘puppy’ love, as they probably +anticipated that I would when they enticed me into that compromise which +was our salvation.” + +As the old man uttered these words he looked wistfully at Em. + +She had been rosy red under his scrutiny before, but now she was marble +white; her eyes were fixed upon the floor, and her fingers were clasped +tightly together on her lap. + +He gazed at her pityingly for a moment, then sighed and took up the +thread of discourse. + +“I say ‘ours’ child, for when I returned from my three years’ voyage I +found my fair one the happy wife of a handsome young workman and the +proud mother of a bouncing boy. It was a shock to my vanity, but it was +a relief to my heart. I was all right; but I felt a little anxious to +know whether she was. I called to see her as an old friend. She received +me with frank cordiality, and showed me her baby and made me stay to tea +to see her husband. When he came home she met him and hurried him +upstairs ‘to clean himself,’ as she told me. And when at length he +joined us at the tea-table, she took my breath away by introducing me as +‘an old beau’ of hers, who had been ‘awful spoony’ on her at one time, +adding, with more frankness than delicacy: + +“‘And, you know, I’d married you _then_ if the old man and old woman +hadn’t raised such an awful row and kept you from asking me! But, Lord! +ain’t I glad they did! For soon after that I met my Charley here at a +picnic, and we were married three weeks afterwards. And every day, when +I think of it, I feel so awful glad, for I wouldn’t give my Charley for +a Secretary of the Navy, let alone a little middy, who would be rushing +off to sea every whipstitch and leaving me alone nearly all the time. +One better be a widow at once than sich a wife!’ she concluded with a +loud laugh. + +“Well, Em., I was, at the same time, and by the same means, humbled and +relieved. Two years after that I met the woman who became my wife. Our +marriage was so happy that one of my brightest anticipations of the next +life is that of meeting her, with whom I hope to spend eternity. As for +the well united young couple who are the subjects of my story, they +lived and prospered. In the course of years the young workman rose to be +a partner in the firm in whose service he had commenced as porter. They +are still living, though both over seventy, and—a curious coincidence, +Em.—their son, the Honorable —— ——, is now Secretary of the Navy and my +superior officer. Now, what do you think of my first love, Em.?” +cheerfully inquired the commodore. + +“I think—I hope—I _pray_,” faltered the girl, keeping her eyes fixed +upon the floor and twisting and untwisting her clasped fingers, “that +_all_ first love is not so fickle as yours and hers.” + +“Ah, humph! humph! I might have expected that answer, of course. But +now, my dear, as I began by saying that I had _two_ incidents in my +experience to relate to you for your instruction, and as I have told you +the first story, which does not seem to have edified you much, I will +now tell you the second. Will you listen?” + +“Oh, yes, sir,” sighed Em. + +“Well! At the very time that I was so insane on the subject of my first +and most ill-placed love, I had a schoolmate, a young medical student, +who was madder than I was. He loved to frenzy the beautiful daughter of +a poor, ignorant workingman. She _was_ beautiful, but beauty was her +only attraction. Her intelligence was very low and her temper unhappy. +But notwithstanding this, my young friend, ensnared by her beauty and +his own eyes, and in defiance of all his family and friends, married +her. I do not know how much or how little of happiness they enjoyed in +the first years of their marriage, for I was at sea, and our paths lay +apart. But in after time, when they had a growing family around them, +they had gone so far apart that they were completely estranged. They +hated each other with a deep and grievous hatred. They often reproached +each other with great bitterness and venom. She was a ‘millstone around +his neck,’ pulling him down and keeping him down in the social scale. +She could not, perhaps, help being so. But he blamed and despised her +for this, and she hated and upbraided him because he blamed and despised +her. The children of that wretched household were both in temperament +and in position very unhappy. They left home as soon as through marriage +or employment they could escape from it. Not one of them has succeeded +in life. Much of this family misery might have been hidden from the +world, for the man, in _this_ respect, was wise and reticent, but the +woman was silly and blatant, and flaunted her domestic troubles in the +face of every friend who came near her. The worst was——” + +“Oh, please, _please_ tell me no more!” exclaimed Em., instinctively +putting her hands to her ears. + +The commodore looked at her and smiled. + +“Oh, I beg pardon, sir; but it was so dreadful,” said the girl +apologetically, as she took down her hands. + +“My child, if this state of things is so dreadful to _hear_, what must +it be to _bear_? inquired the old man with incisive earnestness. + +“Oh, why do you tell me these sad stories?” said Em., almost on the +verge of tears. + +“For an example and a warning, my child. Listen, little girl. My nephew, +Ronald, loves you, or fancies that he does.” + +Em.’s complexion, that had been marble white before, now suddenly +flushed scarlet all over face, neck and bosom. The old man noticed it, +but continued ruthlessly: + +“Ronald is of age, is his own master, and has a profession that will +enable him to support a wife in decent competency. He can therefore +marry whom he will, and in open defiance of his family and friends, if +he pleases. He will probably ask you to marry him, Em. If so, what will +be your reply?” + +“I will wait until he does ask me, sir, and then I will give _him_ my +reply,” said Em. with gentle dignity. + +“Humph! humph! humph! I hope it will be a proper one, Miss Palmer. If +you consent to marry Ronald Bruce, I will tell you what then will be +your fate. It will be that of the woman I have just described to you. +Ronald loves you _now_, or thinks he does. He will marry you if he can; +but his love, such as it is, will not last—cannot last. He will tire of +you in a few weeks or months at longest; he will then dislike +you—perhaps hate you—because, by having accepted his first offer of +marriage, you will come between him and his inheritance, as indeed you +will have done; for I will never leave this place to my nephew except on +the condition that he marries my niece; for those two are my only heirs, +and I will not have the property divided. Should Ronald marry any other +than Hermia I shall leave the estate to her. So you see, my dear girl, +into what depths of ruin you will cast both Ronald and yourself by +accepting him. He will be an impoverished, disappointed and regretful +husband. You will be that most miserable of all women—a despised wife.” + +Em. uttered a little impulsive, half-suppressed cry and hid her face in +her hands. + +But after a few moments she recovered herself, and with something of +gentle dignity arose and stood before the old man. + +Resting one hand on the table, she raised her eyes to his, looked him +steadily but modestly in the face and said: + +“I do not think that this would be the result of our marriage should Mr. +Bruce renew his offer and I accept it. If I should ever marry, my +husband should never despise me. Be sure of that. But, Commodore Bruce, +have no fears of me. Set your heart at rest. I would never enter any +family who were opposed to receiving me; nor, were I inclined to do so, +would my father and mother consent; nor, finally, could I take any +course against their will. To-morrow my father will come for me to go +home and spend Sunday. I shall take leave of you and then depart, not to +return.” + +She ceased to speak, and was about to go away when the words of the +commodore arrested her steps. + +“Now I have hurt you, my child. I did not mean to do so. I beg your +pardon, Em. Ah! it was very cruel to wound you.” + +“No—yes—no,” said the girl in some distress. Then raising her eyes to +his, and seeing the pale, old, anxious face, her heart melted towards +him. She lifted his withered hand and pressed it to her lips, turned and +left the room. + +“She has the spring of a fine spirit under all her downy softness. I +don’t wonder at poor Ronald. Upon my sacred word and honor I don’t! +_What a pity!_” sighed the old commodore to himself. + +Meanwhile Em. fled to her attic chamber. And not until she had locked +herself in did she give way to the storm of emotion that overwhelmed +her. + +She threw herself, weeping, on the bed and wept long and bitterly. + +The summer gust of tears refreshed her, as a thunder gust refreshes +nature. With a healthful reaction she felt better after it had passed. + +She arose and rearranged her disordered dress, and went downstairs to +Mrs. Bruce’s room and resumed her needlework and sewed diligently until +luncheon time. + +There were two vigilant eavesdroppers in that house, and all the walls +had ears. So it had already become known in the family that Em. was +going away the next day, not to return, and so throughout the hour of +lunch they all, with two exceptions, treated her with distinguished +kindness. The exceptions were Commodore Bruce, who always had used her +well, and now made no change, and Ronald Bruce, who spoke to no one if +he could help it, but sat and sulked through the whole meal. + +After lunch Em. hurried up to Mrs. Bruce’s room and took her work, being +desirous of doing her whole duty by her employer. + +And for the short remainder of her stay the girl worked very diligently, +confining herself all day long to Mrs. Bruce’s room, and even taking her +work to the attic and stitching half the night. + +She never saw Ronald Bruce except at meal times, and then never spoke +with him beyond the conventional greeting. + +Before Saturday evening at six o’clock she had completed her last piece +of work and handed it over to Mrs. Bruce. + +Then she packed her trunk and her handbag, dressed herself for her +journey home, and sat down before the portrait of Lonny Bruce to gaze at +it and enjoy it while waiting for the arrival of her father. + +At a few minutes after six o’clock Liza entered the attic chamber and +said: + +“If you please, Miss Em., your father has come for you. And my missus +sent you dis, and ax you will you send her a deceit for it. And Mose is +outside de door, waitin’ to carry down your trunk to de wagon.” + +“Very well, Liza, tell Mose to come in,” said Em. + +Then, while the man was carrying down her trunk, she opened the blank +envelope that had been handed to her by Liza and found in it three +dollars—her week’s wages. + +Now Em. could never have told why, at the sight of that money, the blood +rushed to her head and flooded all her face and neck with fiery flushes. +But certainly she quickly replaced the notes in the envelope, dampened +the gummed edges with her lips and sealed it, and then took a pencil +from her pocket, turned the envelope face up on the mantel-shelf, and +standing there, directed it to Mrs. Bruce. + +“Here, Liza, take this to your mistress,” she said, handing it to the +girl. + +“Is this the deceit?” inquired Liza. + +“It is the best sort of receipt,” replied Em. + +Then she gave Liza a belt and buckle for a keepsake and sent by her a +woolen neck-scarf to Mose. + +“Now I’ll go down,” she said to herself, and take leave of the dear old +man, for somehow I love him, though he breaks my heart. + +She ran nimbly down the stairs and into the study, but, instead of the +commodore, there sat Ronald Bruce in the big leathern chair. + +“Oh, Ronald! I expected to find your uncle to bid him good-by!” +exclaimed Em., glad but frightened at this unexpected meeting with her +lover at the last moment. + +“Oh, Em.! Do you grudge me these few minutes? My uncle went out to speak +to your father to try to prevail on him to come in. I knew you would +come here to take leave of him, and so I just slipped in to receive you. +Ah, Em., are you indeed going for good?” + +“Yes, Ronald, in every sense of the word, I am going for _good_. It is +_not_ good for either of us that I should remain here. Good-by, Ronald! +I know my father is waiting for me.” + +“Good-afternoon, but not good-by! I will see you to-morrow, Em., and see +your father also! What! not one parting kiss?” he complained, as she +firmly repulsed his offered salute. “Then I will see you to your +carriage, ‘whether or no,’” he added with a rueful smile, as he followed +her out of the house. + + + + + CHAPTER XV + HOME AGAIN + + Now soon your home will greet you + And ready kindness meet you, + And love that will not flee. + PERCIVAL. + + +They found John Palmer standing at the head of a powerful white mare, +before a large, old-fashioned gig. + +Em. had not seen her father for a week, and during that separation from +him she had, for some incomprehensible reason, thought of him only from +first impressions—as she had known him in Laundry Lane—gaunt, sallow, +dark, stooping. She was now, for the first time, struck with the change +that had come over him since he had lived the more wholesome life of the +mountaineer, as he stood there, erect, tall, strong, handsome, and, in +spite of his hair turning “sable silvered,” younger looking than she had +ever known him. + +He stood, listening to the discourse of Commodore Bruce, hat in hand, in +deference to age, not rank. + +A thrill of fear shook the girl’s nerves as she saw them. What were they +discussing so earnestly? Ronald and herself? Oh, why would old folks +interfere so much with poor, young lovers? It was like picking the +hearts out of flowers, she thought to herself, as she shrank for a +moment before approaching them. + +But no! what a relief! They were not talking of Ronald or herself. They +were talking of crops, stocks, finances—or at least Commodore Bruce was +talking and John was listening. + +As Em. came up the commodore ceased to speak, and John turned toward +her, saying: + +“Well, my dear, are you all ready? I am glad to get you back again, +lass, I tell you. I never knew how lonesome a house full of people could +be, Em., until you were gone. But ‘sich is life,’” he added, as he +kissed her and gave his hand to lift her into the gig. + +“And, oh, I am glad to see you again, father, dear, good father! There +is Lieutenant Bruce,” she whispered, as he settled her comfortably in +her seat. + +“Ah, how do you do, Lieutenant? Happy to see you, sir. Very happy! You +have been away since I saw you last?” heartily exclaimed John, as he +seized and shook the young man’s hand, adding: “Sorry I cannot stop to +have a good talk with you now; but it is getting late. It will be dark +before we get home, and the roads are dreadful.” + +“Yes, yes!” exclaimed the old commodore, who did not approve of this +friendliness under all the circumstances. “Yes, the roads are very +dangerous to be traveled after dark. Don’t stand talking to Mr. Palmer +and keeping him here all night, Ronald.” + +Ronald had not said a word up to this moment. John had done all the +talking. Now, however, the young man warmly shook the hand of the +overseer, saying: + +“I will not detain you now, much as I should like to do so, but I will +drop in on you very soon.” + +“_Do, do, do_, now; and the _sooner_ you do the better! You’ll always +find a plate at the table and a bed in the house heartily at your +service,” earnestly exclaimed the unsuspicious John, as he stepped into +the gig, seated himself beside his daughter and took the reins in his +hands. + +“Good-by, Commodore Bruce,” said Em., bending from her seat and holding +out her hand. “Please make my excuses and adieux to the ladies. I did +not see any of them as I came out. They were all in their rooms.” + +“Dressing for dinner—a fearfully long task for them, my dear. I will +give them your message, though they don’t deserve it. Good-by, and God +bless you, my dear,” said the old man, pressing a kiss upon her bent +forehead and withdrawing. + +“Good-by, Lieutenant,” said Em. in a lower and less assured tone, as she +doubtfully held out her hand. + +“Good-night; but not good-by. I shall see you very, very soon. +_To-morrow afternoon_,” he added in a lower tone, as he raised her hand +and pressed it to his lips and in his turn withdrew. + +“They seem main fond of you at that house, Em.,” said John Palmer, as +they drove through the end gate and took the roundabout road leading +down the mountainside. “But, Lord! who wouldn’t be fond of her,” he +mentally added in a meditative mood. + +“They were very kind to me, father,” answered the girl, who found it a +hard task to speak steadily and without tears. + +“Why, yes; the old man and the young one took leave of you as lovingly +as if you’d a-been the sister of one and the daughter o’ t’other.” + +“Are they all well at home, father?” inquired Em. + +“Every one as well as con be,” heartily responded John. “And now, little +daughter, I know how hard it is for a girl to hold her tongue under any +circumstances, especially when she has been away a week from home; but +just try to keep quiet, my dear, until we get to the foot of this +mountain, for it will take all my attention to look after Queen Bess,” +said John, as he tightened the reins of the mare to hold her up in going +down hill. + +“Very well, father; but remember, I am loving you all the time, although +I am not telling you so,” said Em., with an attempt at a smile, which, +even if she had succeeded, could not have been seen by him for whom it +was intended, for the short though brilliant twilight of the autumn had +faded away, and it was growing dark in the wooded mountain road. + +They drove on slowly and in silence, winding down the mountainside. + +An hour’s careful driving brought them down to the foot of the precipice +and to the banks of the river. + +Then John paused for a few moments to rest his horse. + +“The old commodore was main fond of you, Em.” + +“Yes, father, and I of him, too.” + +“Indeed! Were you now? That’s odd! He said he wanted you to stay with +him as his reader and writer after you had got through with Mrs. Bruce’s +sewing, but you declined.” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“I am glad of it! Why, Em., what on earth should an edicated old +gentleman like him, with a good pair of spectacles, want of a reader and +writer, especially a young girl like you? It is all in my eye, Em.! The +old man wanted to marry you! A thing as your mother and I never would +have consented to, no, not if he had been as rich as _Creases_!” + +“Oh, oh, oh, father!” cried Em. in a perfect ecstacy of horror. “It was +nothing like that! Nothing, nothing like that! He never would have +dreamed of such a dreadful thing! Oh, no, no, no! Oh, father, how could +you dream of such—oh, father!” + +“I don’t know, Em. These aged old gentlemen, when they are widowers, are +perfect wampires after young wives, and think they can buy a pretty one +for money, just as easy as a heathen could go buy a girl in one o’ them +slave markets in London or Paris, or some o’ them Pagan nations where +they sell young women for wives. Wish one on ’em would come after _you_, +Em.! I would send him home with a wasp in his ear that would make him +dance livelier ’n he did in his boyhood’s days! Would be almost as good +for him as a young wife! Are you cold, child? Wrap your shawl closer +around you; you are shivering.” + +“No, father, dear, but this talk is horrible,” said the girl, +shuddering. + +“Glad to hear it! It was so intended! And now I hope you won’t think any +more of marrying a rich old dotard and being made a lady of _that way_! +said John sturdily. + +“Oh, father, I never _did_ think of it; nor no one else that I know of +except you!” + +“Glad to hear _that_, too! Hope you never will! No, Em., no rich old +husbands for you! I want you to have a happy life, my girl. By and by, +when the proper time shall come, I hope you will wed some good and +good-looking young fellow of your own rank, with whom you will be as +happy as your mother and I have been all our lives. Yes, the Lord knows, +and I thank him,” said John, reverently raising his hat, “that we have +been very happy in spite of poverty, sickness, death and the common ills +that come to us all. For what is this life but a climbing-place to the +higher? And what are these troubles but the stones that must sometimes +bruise our feet, and the thorns that may pierce our flesh? When a +faithful, loving pair travel this upward road together, Em., they do not +mind these troubles by the way. So I hope, my girl, that some day you +may be the wife of some honest young fellow of your own class, and not +the toy and slave of a rich old husband. But there, I won’t preach any +longer. Queen Bess is tossing her head and shaking her ears in impatient +scorn of my discourse. She wants to get home to her stall and her oats,” +said John, laughing, as he started the white mare. + +“And she is no better tempered than her namesake,” said Em., as they +went along. + +The rest of the road home was short and easy, leading along the banks of +the river, with the woods on one side and the water on the other, and +then by a short angle leading through the thicket up to the park gate, +which was wide open to receive them, with old ’Sias on the watch to +welcome them. + +Little old ’Sias grinned literally “from ear to ear” as he bowed and +continued to bow while the gig rolled through the gate. + +“I am so glad to see you again, Uncle ’Sias! Come up to the house and +talk with us this evening,” said Em. + +“So I will, miss! ’Deed I feel as you’d been gone a year, more or less!” +returned the old man. + +But they were soon out of hearing, for Queen Bess, finding herself so +near home, mended her pace, nor thought of slacking it until drawn up in +front of the old red wing. + +It was soon quite dark, but a cheerful firelight gleamed through the +open doors and unshaded windows of the house. + +All the family came forth to meet Em. with joyful welcomes, as though +she had been absent on a six years’ tour in a foreign country instead of +a six days’ sojourn in the immediate neighborhood. + +Mother, sisters and brothers took her in their arms in turn and warmly +embraced and kissed her, while the little Italian girl danced +frantically around, among them all, waiting for a chance to get at her +“Caressima,” as she continually called Em. + +“Now, Tom, run and put up the horse and gig. You can do the rest of your +welcoming after you come back,” said John. + +The youth ran off to obey his father, and the family party entered the +house and passed on into the sitting-room, where a fire of pine logs and +cones was blazing up the chimney, lighting up the whole house. + +Here Ann Whitlock and Aunt Monica were both engaged in putting finishing +touches on the neatly-set tea-table, where extra dainties had been +placed in honor of the daughter’s return. + +But both the old women left off work and ran to welcome their favorite. + +“No, let Em. go upstairs and take off her things—_do_!” said Molly, +carrying her sister off in triumph. + +“See now what a nice fire Ned kindled for you, Em. Isn’t it just +splendid to have such a grand plenty of wood that we can make a roaring +fire to warm a great room like this?” said Nelly, who had followed her +sister to the attic. + +“_I_ brought all the cones to kindle with, _my_self,” added little +Vennie, who came creeping up behind all the rest. + +Em. turned and kissed the little creature, and then unpacked her trunk, +which her father and Ned had already brought up to her room. + +Assisted by busy and affectionate little helpers, Em. soon got through +her task, and leaving her chamber in perfect order, and followed by a +bevy of little sisters, she hurried downstairs to the sitting-room, +where all the rest of the family were waiting for her. + +As soon as she entered tea was placed on the table, and they all sat +down to it. + +The father of the family asked a blessing, and then they all fell to +with good appetites and fine spirits. + +Ah, how different was the atmosphere of this lowly, loving, merry party +to that proud, cold, gloomy circle she had left behind! Coming from one +to the other was like passing from purgatory into Paradise. It was +almost worth parting with Ronald to experience such a change. + +Almost! not quite, as the aching from the depths of her heart seemed to +assure her. + +She had loved Ronald Bruce from the first hour she had met him—when he +had saved her life by laying her brutal assailant stunned at her feet. +She had loved him involuntarily, secretly, silently—never dreaming that +her love was but the response of his own unspoken passion. + +Now she knew he loved her, and had loved her from their first meeting. +Ronald Bruce, who had traveled all over the world, and had mixed with +the best society in many countries, and who from his position and +prospects might have chosen his wife from almost any class—had +overlooked all others to choose _her_, Em., above all other women—to +choose her, who had neither wealth, position or accomplishments—nothing +but herself. And if she had loved him at first she adored him now! Oh, +how she longed for all the advantages that might make her as acceptable +to Ronald’s family, as, without any of them, she was to him! + +Even seated in the sweet circle of this pure, unselfish family affection +these thoughts troubled her peace. + +No wonder then that in the solitude of her own attic chamber, when she +had retired to rest that night, that they should destroy her repose. + +Em. lay wide awake all night thinking, dreaming. + +Now tempting thoughts came to the troubled, wakeful dreamer, “in the +waste and middle of the night.” + +Em. remembered Ronald’s last words whispered in her ear just as he left +her seated in the gig by her father’s side. + +_To-morrow afternoon_, he had said. + +To-morrow afternoon, then, Ronald would be sure to make his appearance. +He would be sure to ask her father for her, as he had declared he would. + +Her father liked Ronald very much, she knew; but he would never listen +to his suit for her hand unless that suit came authorized by Ronald’s +uncle. And so it would never come. And so her father would refuse her to +Ronald, and would probably request him to refrain from visiting the +house. + +Then Ronald would be sure to seek an interview with her, and he would +press her to end all their trouble by marrying him at once. + +Now why—the tempter asked her—should she not take him at his word? These +old people—the evil-one whispered—whose pride and stubbornness were +separating Ronald and herself, were interfering with their loves beyond +all reason and justice. They had no right to make two young people +wretched all their lives. They could not do so, if Ronald should have +his own way. And nothing obstructed _that_ but Em.’s own scruples. +Ronald’s and her happiness now depended upon herself alone. Why should +she not make sure of it by accepting him as her husband? A few hours’ +travel would take them into Maryland, where they could be legally +married, although she was not of age. Then they would instantly return +to the manor-house and ask forgiveness. + +Her gentle father, her tender mother, would be _sure_ to forgive them on +the asking. Then they would be happy. + +Yes; but that father and mother! Should she wound those gentle and +tender hearts by an act of disobedience that would be nothing less than +a cruel insult to them, receive it however charitably they might? + +And then her promise to Commodore Bruce, whom she loved, though he _did_ +almost break her heart! + +Em. could come to no decision on her future course of action. + +Act as she might, she could not escape suffering in herself and causing +suffering to others. + +Thus thinking and dreaming, she lay wide awake all night, and was glad +when she saw the dawn of morning through the uncurtained eastern windows +of her room. + +She arose and mended her fire, replenishing it from the box of fuel in +the corner. Then she bathed and dressed, offered up her morning prayers +and went downstairs. + +It was now sunrise, and the sunshine was filling the sitting-room, where +all the family were assembled for morning worship. + +They greeted Em. affectionately and then seated her among them. + +The father opened the family Bible and read a chapter and then +reverently closed it and led their devotions. + +After this breakfast was placed upon the table. + +It was while handing her daughter a cup of coffee that Susan Palmer +looked in Em.’s face and exclaimed: + +“I do declare, child, that your week’s stay at the old commodore’s +hasn’t improved you much! I didn’t notice it last night by candle-light, +but now I see you by daylight, you are as pale as a ghost.” + +“Yes, _that_ she is,” chimed in several of the others. + +“It is sitting so much over her needle! She sha’n’t do it again, that is +certain,” said John positively. + +“No, she sha’n’t, and I am glad this is Sunday, so she may have a +complete rest,” added Susan. + +The nearest church was thirty miles off; so John Palmer’s family could +only attend it once a month, on communion days, when they had to take a +Saturday afternoon’s journey and stay over until Monday morning. + +But whether they were privileged to go to church, or compelled to stay +at home, the Sabbath was always conscientiously observed by them. + +After breakfast, when order was restored, John Palmer assembled his +family and read the morning service, every member of the household +taking part in it. + +They had always a nice, appetizing Sunday dinner, though no cooking was +ever done beyond boiling water to make tea or coffee and warming over +the soup and meat that had been prepared the day before. + +After dinner each individual pleased himself or herself by reading, +walking, talking or sleeping. + +This particular Sunday afternoon, however, all the family were assembled +around the fire in the sitting-room, questioning Em. concerning her +week’s sojourn on the mountain, and she was telling them all she could +communicate without unveiling the mystery of her own heart. + +While they were all thus engaged the old gatekeeper, ’Sias, put his head +in at the door and said: + +“Young Marse Lieutenant Ronald Bruce have come to see you, sar, and +would like to pay his dispects, if conwenient.” + +“Mr. Bruce! Well, I declare!” exclaimed Susan Palmer in surprise. + +“Humph! I thought as much!” said Ann Whitlock significantly. + +“Am I to denounce de young ge’man into de house?” inquired old ’Sias. + +“Yes, certainly,” cordially responded John Palmer, while Em.’s heart +bounded with delight. + + + + + CHAPTER XVI + PROPOSALS + + Heaven, forming each on other to depend, + As master, or as servant, or as friend, + Bids each on other for assistance call, + Till one man’s weakness makes the strength of all. + Wants, frailties, passions closer still ally + The common interest, or endear the tie. + To those we owe true friendship, love sincere, + Each home-felt joy that life inherits here. + POPE. + + +Ronald Bruce came in smiling. All the family arose to receive him. + +“Don’t let me disturb you, pray. How do you do, Mr. Palmer! And you, +madam!” said the young man, shaking hands with John, bowing to Susan, +and then pressing the hand of Em. before he finally subsided into the +chair set for him by Tom. + +“Hope you left the commodore and all the family well, sir?” hospitably +inquired John. + +“Quite well, thank you, Mr. Palmer. And I have no doubt, if they had +known I was coming here, they would have sent kindest remembrances to +you and your daughter,” replied Ronald Bruce. + +“Oh! They didn’t know you were coming, then?” + +“No. They were all taking their Sunday afternoon naps in their chambers +when I left home.” + +“Ah! Well, I am very glad to see you, Lieutenant, I am sure! Always take +such pleasure in your sea stories! It’s almost like going to sea myself +to hear you! And—well, I was thinking only to-day that the first time I +should see you I would ask you how you spend Sundays on board ship. How +_do_ you, anyhow?” + +“Well,” laughed the young man, “as variously as you do on land. It +depends on the character of the captain of the ship at sea, as it does +on the master of the house ashore. Of course, much of the routine of +ship duty must go on, just as some housework must be done. If the +captain of the ship is a religious man we have divine service in the +forenoon. In the afternoon every one spends his leisure as he pleases. I +remember one Sunday afternoon——” + +And here, to please his desired father-in-law, Ronald Bruce launched +into a sea story that soon absorbed all the attention of the family +party. + +Even old ’Sias and Aunt Monica stepped in and sat down in an obscure +corner to listen. And not until it was finished could Mrs. Whitlock make +up her mind to steal away and prepare an extra supper for the guest. + +Then old Monica and Uncle ’Sias followed to lend their aid. + +“I never see such idiwuts as John Palmer and Susan is! Do they think as +that young hossifer comes here for the pleasure of seeing them, I +wonder? Why don’t they all make some excuse and leave the young folks +together and give ’em a chance!” burst forth Mrs. Whitlock as soon as +she found herself in the kitchen. + +“If he comes here after Miss Em., dey is right not to give him a chance +to court her, ’cause no good can’t come out’n that; he being of a rich +young gentleman, an’ she——” + +“A _lady_, every inch of her,” broke in Mrs. Whitlock, cutting Aunt +Monica’s speech short. + +“And so she may be in her ways an’ manners, an’ I don’t deny so she is. +But, la! dat ain’t what _his_ people would look at. Ole Marse Commodore +Bruce is particular. Why, chillun, I used to know dat ole man good, an’ +hear him talk, when he came to our old Marse Captain Wyndeworth’s oyster +suppers. Bless patience, honeys, _blood_ was his first ’sideration an’ +_money_ was his second, an’ dat was all he would look at. An’ ’less our +young gal had blood an’ money, he’d never ’sent to ’ceiving _her_ inter +de Bruce famberly.” + +“I’d risk it,” said Ann Whitlock, as she addressed herself to the task +of preparing a dainty supper for the guest to tempt him to repeat his +visits, if other inducements besides Em. should be necessary. + +Meanwhile, in the parlor, John Palmer engaged the visitor’s attention +exclusively, keeping him so busy in telling sea stories that the young +man was in peril of having to draw upon his imagination, as well as upon +his memory. + +Ronald got no opportunity of speaking a single word in confidence to Em. + +Even when supper was announced and he drew the girl’s arm within his own +to take her to the table, the family massed so closely that he could not +even get a chance to breathe a syllable in her ear on the way to the +dining-room. + +While the family were at supper Ann Whitlock busily prepared the spare +room upstairs for the accommodation of their guest, saying to herself as +she laid hickory logs across the andirons to build a cheerful fire: + +“_I_ will make everything as pleasant as possible for him, anyhow, so as +to ’tice him to come often. And I’ll ’courage ’em to get married, too, +no matter what nobody says. Once they’re safe married nobody can’t +unmarry ’em. That’s so!” + +After supper, when the family were regathered around the parlor fire, +the sea stories were resumed, and never had a story-teller a more +attentive and appreciative audience than had Ronald Bruce in John Palmer +and his household. + +When the usual bedtime came, however, Susan Palmer began to grow +restless, and as soon as Mr. Bruce came to the end of the tale he was +then telling she got up and lighted a candle and put it in the hand of +her husband, saying: + +“I reckon, John, as Mr. Bruce is about tired, and you’d better show him +to his room.” + +“Now I do reckon he can find it for himself!” said John, laughing, as he +passed the candle over to Ronald, and added: “It’s the same room you +occupied before, sir, and you know the way to it.” + +“Certainly,” replied the young man smilingly; and then more gravely he +added: “I came here, Mr. Palmer, especially to seek a private interview +with you on a matter of very great importance to me, at least. Can you +give me a few moments alone before I leave here to-morrow morning?” + +“Why, of course I can,” said John, staring with surprise and curiosity. + +Mr. Bruce then bowed good-night to the circle, raised the hand of Em. to +his lips and left the room. + +“Now I wonder what in the name o’ sense he’s got to say to you, John? Do +you know?” eagerly inquired Susan Palmer as soon as their visitor had +disappeared. + +“Oh, something about crops, or stocks, or something! You know his uncle +wants him to give up the sea and attend to agriculture, and he knows no +more o’ that than I do of navigation,” said John. + +“Yes, I s’pose that’s it,” concluded Susan. + +“I never did see two such old goneys in my life!” muttered Ann Whitlock +to herself. “Between them both, they’ll ruin that gal’s fortin, I know +they will!” + +But nothing more was said, as the family were even then separating to +retire. + +As Em. went up to bid her father good-night she whispered these +enigmatical words into his ear: + +“Oh, father, please, _please_ don’t deny him!” And she was gone before +the startled and perplexed John could gather his scattered senses and +ask what she meant. + +Early the next morning Ronald Bruce arose, dressed in haste and hurried +downstairs to seek the promised interview with his host. + +He found John in the parlor waiting for him. + +“Good-morning, Mr. Bruce! Fine, bright morning, sir, though we had heavy +frost last night. Hope you slept well, sir,” said Palmer. + +“Thanks, yes, very well,” replied the young man, telling an involuntary +fib, for he had not slept a wink and had not meant to say so. + +“I’ll just turn the key of this door, and we’ll be safe from +interruption,” said John, suiting the action to the word. + +Then placing a chair for his guest and taking another for himself, he +sat down and said: + +“Now I am ready to hear all that you have got to say, Lieutenant; but I +warn you that I don’t know much more about crops and stocks than you do +yourself.” + +“‘Crops and stocks!’” echoed the young man in surprise. + +“Yes! Wasn’t that what you wished to consult me upon?” + +“Bless me, no!” + +“What was it, then?” inquired Palmer in surprise. + +Young Bruce hesitated in some confusion. The fact that the +father-in-law-elect seemed so utterly unprepared to hear the honor that +was intended him, had the natural effect of making the proposal doubly +embarrassing to the suitor. + +He paused for a few moments longer and then broke the ice suddenly by +saying: + +“Mr. Palmer, I love your daughter Emolyn, and I have reason to know that +she likes me. I came here to pray you to make us both happy by +consenting to our marriage.” + +If I were to tell you that John’s hair stood on end, I should not much +exaggerate. His eyes fairly started from his head as he stared at the +speaker, and faltered forth: + +“Now look a here, young gentleman, look a here! Quiet yourself like and +think a bit. You _can’t_ know what you’re a-talking about!” + +“Yes, I do!” impatiently replied the young man, giving his dark head an +irritable shake. + +“Well, then, maybe I didn’t understand you right,” said John helplessly. + +“Then I will repeat what I said. I asked you if you would do me the +honor of giving me your daughter for a wife,” repeated Ronald. + +“Dear me! Dear me! What a pity! I never thought of such a thing! I am +very sorry,” muttered John in a meditative way. + +Ronald Bruce sat watching and waiting until he lost the last remnant of +patience and broke forth with: + +“Mr. Palmer, do you understand my question _now_?” + +“Yes—yes! Don’t get excited! I know what you said! And I know, too, what +my girl meant when she asked me last night not to deny you! Lord help +me! I feel awful cut up about it!” sighed John, running his fingers +through his shock of “pepper and salt” hair. + +The young officer looked somewhat fallen in his selfesteem as he gazed +upon the overseer, who evidently did not feel the honor conferred upon +him as he should have done, and he inquired somewhat sulkily: + +“Why should you feel ‘cut up,’ as you call it, by my proposal?” + +“Oh, because it is like you have been making love to my child, and maybe +getting her to be fond of you!” replied John with a profound sigh that +seemed to come from the depth of his heart. + +“Well, that is just exactly what I have been doing—in the hope of +winning her for my wife, with your consent. I come now to ask that +consent; I only wait for that!” said Ronald earnestly. “And I don’t see +why you should take the matter so very deeply to heart,” he added rather +sullenly. + +John groaned and sighed, but answered nothing. + +“May I hope for your consent to my proposal, Mr. Palmer?” at length +inquired the suitor. + +“No, Mr. Bruce! It can’t be, and it oughtn’t to be! I am hurt to the +very bottom of my heart to have to say it, but I must say it. No, Mr. +Bruce, you can’t have Em. for your wife!” said John Palmer firmly. + +The young man turned pale with astonishment, mortification and anger. + +“May I ask you _why_ you reject me? Have you any objection to me +personally?” he hotly demanded, as he arose and stood before John. + +“To you personally as you stand there, sir, I could have no possible +objection. You are a very well made young man, sound in wind and limb, +of steady habits and good temper, though a little spirited. No, to you +personally I would have no objection. And if you were only a young +journeyman mechanic, or a young workman, I do not know any man in the +world to whom I would sooner give my girl as a wife, or whom I would +sooner welcome as a son-in-law; because I like you, Lieutenant Bruce! +And if it would not sound queer from a man’s lips, I might almost say, I +love you! _That_ is what makes it so awfully cutting to have to refuse +you! Oh, I wish you were a workman!” + +“So do I, since you seem to consider it an indispensable condition; but +if you approve of me as I am, why not accept me as I am?” inquired the +young man, now half inclined to laugh and half to weep. + +John shook his gray-black head in sorrowful silence. + +“I can’t help being an officer in the navy; but I can help continuing to +be so, and I will resign my commission and take up farming if you will +give me Em.! I’ll do it at once, next week, to-day!” + +“Yes, and repent week after week, or even to-morrow! No, it will not do, +Mr. Bruce! You are a gentleman born and not fit for Em. You can’t unmake +yourself and make yourself over again, and therefore you can never be +fit for Em. You must give up all thoughts of her at once and forever! I +say it, and by all my soul’s hopes I mean it, young sir.” + +“But, good Heaven! I can not and will not give her up! To do so would be +the ruin of our lives’ happiness!” exclaimed Ronald. + +“Nonsense, young gentleman. To _marry_ would be the ruin of your lives! +Listen to me, sir. You and Em. are both too young to know yourselves, or +to know life. Of course, you think now that if you could marry you would +be perfectly happy. And so you might be for a few short weeks, while the +novelty lasted. But you are a gentleman—she a poor man’s child. You have +been differently brought up; these differences would crop out in course +of time. You might repent of your marriage, think you could have done so +much better if you could have married a lady of your own class, and so +on——” + +“Believe me, sir——” began the suitor. + +“Stop! hear me out,” said the father. “You might even come to despise my +child, and to make her feel that she was despised. That would break her +heart, and then—why, I might break your head!” + +Ronald Bruce sprang to his feet and began to stride up and down the room +in a sort of frenzy. + +“What in the deuce do you take me for, Mr. Palmer,” he indignantly +exclaimed, “that you should think me capable of such baseness! Or what +do you take your daughter for, that you should deem it even possible +that any man should ever ‘despise’ her! If you were not her father, I +would not stand quietly to hear her maiden dignity so affronted!” + +“You’re not standing so very quietly just at the present speaking, young +gentleman, unless tearing up and down the room like a madman means your +idea of standing quietly! Come, Mr. Bruce! Come, Mr. Bruce! You have no +better friend on earth than I am. And the very friendliest thing I could +do for you would be to put my foot down on the notion of you marrying my +daughter. And what’s more, no girl ever had a lovinger father than Em. +has in me, and the kindest thing I can do for her is to prevent her from +becoming your wife.” + +“I swear by all my hopes of salvation that I will make Emolyn Palmer my +wife in the face of all the world and in defiance of all opposition!” +exclaimed the young man, so transported with fury that he lost all +self-command and sense of propriety. + +“Now I wonder why I don’t lift him by the scruff of his neck and the +slack of his pants and pitch him out of the window?” thought John Palmer +to himself. “Why? Because, with all his impudence, he loves my Em., poor +fellow, almost as hard as I did her mother, and I am sorry for him. So +I’ll be gentle with him.” + +“You have no right,” broke forth the young man once more, as he strode +up and down the floor—“you have no right—no one has any right to +separate two young people who love each other as I and Emolyn do! No +right to ruin both our lives for the sake of gratifying your own +particular whims of pride or prudence! I told my uncle and my mother so +yesterday, and I tell you so to-day.” + +“Whe-ew!” exclaimed John. “So you mean to marry my daughter whether I +will or not?” + +“I will marry my Emolyn in defiance of all insane opposition!” + +“Very well. We’ll see. Please sit down here. I am going to send for +Emolyn,” said John Palmer. + +Ronald Bruce threw himself into the chair and waited. + +John Palmer went to the window, tapped upon it and called one of the +boys who was chopping wood in the yard and who immediately approached. + +“Ned, tell your sister Em. to come in here. I want to speak to her,” +said the father. + +The boy ran off to do his errand. + +John Palmer unlocked the door and set it open. + +In a few moments Em. entered the room. + +She looked very much flushed and embarrassed, and her color came and +went as she glanced from her lover to her father. She seemed to feel +that her fate was being weighed in the balance of the moment, and that a +second might decide it for weal or woe. + +“Good-morning, father. Good-morning, Mr. Bruce,” she faltered in low +tones, compelling herself to this act of politeness, although her very +heart seemed fainting within her for fear. + +Ronald Bruce bowed low to her salutation, while John Palmer held out his +hand and said: + +“Come here, my girl, I have something to say to you.” + +Em. went to him. + +He encircled her with one arm and drew her close to his side while he +said: + +“Em., my child, this good young gentleman here has done us the honor to +ask me for you as his wife—as most likely you know.” + +Em. gave a quick, short nod and caught her breath. + +“You did know, of course. Well, my daughter, there is no young man in +the world that I like better than him—just as there is no young woman in +the world that I love better than you. So, having the lasting happiness +of both in view, I must decline this marriage for you, my Em.” + +“_Oh, father!_” she breathed almost under her breath. + +“His friends would never consent to receive my child as a relative, Em. +I would never consent for you to enter any family who would not be as +_proud_ to receive you as I should be to give you. Besides this, unequal +marriages never end well. Where a gentleman marries a poor girl, however +much he may seem to have loved her at first, he grows tired of her, +perhaps ashamed of her, and ceases to love her, maybe begins to hate +her——” + +“Oh, father! father!” moaned the girl in a low tone of anguish. + +“Mr. Palmer, you must not say these things to your daughter! They are +cruel, unmanly, and what is more, untrue, as far as I am concerned,” +hotly interposed Ronald Bruce. + +“They are hard and bitter words, I know, young people,” said John +Palmer, keeping his temper. “But bitters are tonics to cure weakness. +Now, my Em., to _you_ I speak. You are my child. This young gentleman +here declares that he will marry you in defiance of his relations and +yours, and all the world and the rest of mankind, as the late General +Taylor used to say. The question, then, is this, my child: whether you +will marry him without my consent and against my wishes? Answer, Em.!” + +“Emolyn, pause! Do not commit yourself hastily by a promise that will +drive me mad and make yourself miserable!” impetuously exclaimed the +lover. “Take time to consider, Emolyn! Tell your father that you must +have time!” he earnestly pleaded. + +Em. raised her head. Her face was pale, and her eyes were full of tears; +but she answered firmly: + +“Ronald, you know my heart; I must not take time to consider whether I +shall obey my dear father or not. I must not marry without his consent—I +will not, dear father! Ronald, listen and be sure of this—if it should +ever be right that we should marry, my dear father will consent; for he +has nothing except our welfare in view. But do not mistake me, be sure +of this also, that I will never marry without his consent,” Em. added, +and covered her face with her hands to conceal the tears that were ready +to stream from her eyes. + +“There, young gentleman, you have your answer from her as well as from +me. She will not marry without my consent. If it should ever happen to +be proper for you to marry I will give my consent. As that is not at all +likely to occur, why, you had better not hope for it. And let me repeat, +in this I have nothing but your happiness and hers at heart,” said John +in earnest kindliness. + +Ronald Bruce stamped viciously, exclaiming: + +“If there is anything in the world I detest, it is to suffer a grievous +wrong and to be told that it is intended as a benefit.” + +“Yes, I know,” said John. “Children always rebel ag’in the physic that +is to cure ’em, or the whipping that is to reform ’em, although we +always tell ’em it’s for their good. But ‘sich is life.’” + + + + + CHAPTER XVII + THE RESCUE + + She took the fruits of my advice;— + And he, repulsed—a short tale to make— + Fell into a sadness, thence into a fast, + Thence to a watch, thence into a weakness. + SHAKESPEARE. + + +“Mammy says, how if you don’t come in to breakfast it will all be +sp’ilt,” were the prosaic words that cut short this trying interview, as +little Molly put her smoothly-brushed black head into the door. + +“Run and tell mammy we will be there immediately,” said John. + +The little lass sped away on her errand. + +“Come, sir! Come!” exclaimed John cheerfully. “Our boys were out among +the partridges on Saturday afternoon and bagged a rare lot of fat ones. +The mother has dressed them for breakfast, and we mustn’t let them spoil +by waiting! Come, Em., little woman, cheer up! Nobody’s dead and +nobody’s dying!” + +Now it was the first impulse of Ronald Bruce to decline John Palmer’s +further entertainment, and to hurry away without waiting for breakfast, +but a glance from Em.’s imploring eyes restrained him, and he sulkily +followed John and herself to the dining-room, where Susan, with the +brightest smiles, bade him good-morning. + +As they seated themselves at the table Em. purposely took a chair with +her back to the window so that her troubled face might be thrown into +shadow and escape the notice of her mother. + +But if Susan Palmer failed to observe the tearful eyes of her daughter, +she did not neglect to watch her guest and to see how he slighted her +delicious broiled partridges and cream rolls. + +“I am afraid you are not as hearty as usual this morning, Mr. Bruce!” +she said at length. + +“Oh, quite so, thanks! But this is rather earlier than I am accustomed +to take breakfast,” said the young man ingeniously. + +Susan had the good sense to seem satisfied with the explanation; but she +remembered all the while that the early breakfast hour had not prevented +Mr. Bruce from making a valiant onslaught upon the edibles on the +occasion of his last visit. + +As soon as breakfast was over Ronald prepared to take leave of the +family. + +His horse was brought around to the door by ’Sias. + +“Now I hope you will come to see us just as often as you can +conveniently, Mr. Bruce! Why, a visit from you, with your sea stories, +is as good as a voyage round the world to John and the boys, penned up +as they are in this here wally with a wall of mountains round them! Come +often, sir! And la! why, if breakfast at seven o’clock in the morning is +too airly for you, we might have it at eight or nine, or any time,” said +Susan Palmer cordially, as Ronald Bruce took leave of her. + +“Thanks, very much; I shall remember your kindness,” returned the young +man, without committing himself by a promise. + +He took a light and cheerful leave of the younger members of the family, +and then went to the window where Em. stood looking out. + +She turned as he joined her. + +He took her hand and said: + +“I do not know when I shall be permitted to see you again, my dear and +only love; but be sure of this—I will never give you up, Em.! Never, as +I hope for heaven! God bless you, my darling!” + +And so saying, he pressed her hand and turned away. + +John Palmer went out with him. + +“I am sorry, sir, that I cannot join in my wife’s invitation to you. But +under the circumstances I think you and Em. had better not see each +other again. I am grieved to the soul, I am, about all this. And—see +here! I cannot let you go in this way! I’ll tell you what, now, listen! +If you will agree not to see, or to speak to, or write to Em., or to +hold any sort of communication with her, for the space of one year from +to-day, and if at the end of that time you and Em. retain your +partiality for one another, and you come to me with the written consent +of your lady mother and your gentleman uncle, why, then I will take back +all my objections to the match! There, now! I can say no more than that. +What do _you_ say?” demanded John in a frank, hearty, almost joyous +manner. + +The countenance of the young man was not, however, gratefully +responsive. + +“I ask no concessions of you, Mr. Palmer, because I can make no +promises. I _must_ have Em. for my wife if I can, and as _soon_ as I +can. Her happiness, as well as my own, depends upon it!” he answered, as +he placed his foot in the stirrup and threw himself into the saddle. + +“Very well! Then my hope is in Em. She is a dutiful daughter, and she +will obey me,” concluded John Palmer, as he waved his departing guest +adieu and returned into the house. + +He looked around for Em.; but the girl was nowhere to be seen. He +inquired for her and was told that she had gone upstairs to make the +beds. + +“And I would just like to know,” said his wife, who had been his +informant, “what they have been doing to Em. up there at the commodore’s +to make her look so ill. I take my oath she does not look like the same +child. I just think I’ll march myself up to the grand house and ask them +what is the meaning of it all!” + +“Come here, my good woman. I’ll tell you all about it, and then we must +drop the subject forever and a day and try to employ and amuse Em. and +make her forget it,” said John, as he beckoned Susan to follow him into +the parlor, where they would be more secure from interruption. + +There John shut the door, put his wife into the big arm-chair, and +taking another for himself, sat down before her and told her the whole +story of Ronald Bruce and Emolyn Palmer’s love. + +Susan listened in breathless astonishment. + +“To think of such a thing! It never once entered my head!” she +exclaimed. “And Em. nothing but a child, hardly out of her short frocks +and pantalettes! And he, you might say, almost a middle-aged man by +comparison! And quite belonging to another world! But, oh, my poor +girl!” + +“Well, my dear, I considered the best thing to do in such a case was to +put my foot right down on it, and that I did. Though if I had thought as +he’d a-made her happy in the long run I’d a-given my consent; but I knew +he’d soon repent sich an unequal marriage, and that would break my +girl’s heart, and so down I put my foot upon the whole thing! And now, +Susan, we must never allude to what’s past, but try to comfort and cheer +the child up.” + +Mrs. Palmer agreed to that, and then they left the parlor and set about +their several duties. + +As for Em., she went hard to work—her panacea for all mental troubles. +They all heard her singing as she shook up beds and swept floors. + +But when all the work was done, then came the reaction of artificial +excitement—the life weariness, the heavy-heartedness, that she could not +shake off. + +So many industrious hands about that house left so little to do! + +_Her_ hands could now find nothing. + +She thought she would walk down to the pier and take the little boat and +make a visit to the island. She had not been to Edengarden for some +weeks past; and this golden October day tempted her to the excursion. + +She went to find Susan and said: + +“Mother, I am going out for an hour or two, if you would not mind.” + +“No, of course not, child. But where are you going, Em.?” + +“To Edengarden, mother. I have not been there for so long a time.” + +“Very well, Em.; but, oh, my dear, don’t attempt to row the boat +yourself! I know you _can_ do it; but still for this once take old ’Sias +with you! Will you?” + +“Yes, mother, if you wish me to do so; but you know, dear, there is no +danger. I can use an oar as well as I can a broom. And for the rest, you +know what the country people about here say—that it requires a great +deal of perseverance and presence of mind to drown one’s self in the +‘Placide.’” + +“Oh, I know, Em.! But still, for this once, take old ’Sias with you.” + +“I will do so, mother,” replied the girl as she turned away. + +Em. quickly wrapped herself in her black and white-checkered shawl, and +put on her gray felt hat and left the house. + +She walked briskly down the leaf-strewn road that led through the +thicket to the gate-house. + +Here she found old ’Sias sitting on the step before the closed front +door, smoking a stumpy clay pipe and basking in the golden sunshine of +the autumn morning. + +“Oh, Uncle ’Sias, I am so glad to see you at leisure. Will you row me to +Edengarden this morning?” she inquired, pausing before the old man. + +“Miss Em.! Well, I ’clare to my goodness! De sight ob you down here +axing me to go wid you a-rowing is good for to cure blindness!” +exclaimed old ’Sias, taking the pipe from his mouth and rising to his +feet. “Why, you hasn’t been here—less see—not since las’ Augus’, I do +believe. Yes, honey, to be sure I’ll take you a-rowing, and glad to do +it, too,” he continued, as he emptied his pipe and put it into his +pocket, and walked on beside Em. out of the gate and through the forest +road leading to the river. + +“You are quite at leisure to go with me, Uncle ’Sias, I hope?” said the +girl considerately. + +“Oh, la! yes, honey! I hadn’t nuffin ’t all to do, and what’s more, I +hadn’t no place to go to. You see dat dere shet-up door, didn’t you, +honey?” + +“Yes, of course,” said Em., wondering to what that led. + +“Well, chile, dat shet-up door was bolted on the inside,” said ’Sias +mysteriously. + +“Why, how was that?” inquired Em. + +“Sereny been performing, honey! Sereny been performing, chile! Thanks be +to goodness, Miss Em., dere ain’t much ha’r left on my head for her to +twist her fingers in now! Lord, if Miss Abishey performed on King David +like Sereny do on me, no wonder he wrote so many sollum sams! She’s been +performing, honey, and arter she’d done performing she kicked me out and +clapped the door to and bolted it! Dere, dat’s what Sereny did, and I +feel as if I could write a sollum sam myself!” + +“It is really too bad!” cried Em. + +“Now ain’t it, dough, honey? And de most aggravokingest part if it is to +think as I’m her lawful lord and marster, as she swore beore de holy +altar to lub, honor and obey! But law! what’s de use o’ talking? De +wimmen don’t ’member dem wows no longer’n dey get out’n de church! +Leastways, I know Sereny didn’t! Purty way she lub me to pull all de +ha’r out’n my head! Purty way she honor me to kick me out’n de house and +slam de door and bolt it on me. And I her lord and marster! But you see, +chile, dough I is her s’preme ruler, she’s de strongest ob de two, and +dat’s de way she gets de better ob me! Now, I tell you what, Miss Em., +if it should please de Lord to take Sereny, I think as I should be +’signed to His holy will, and I never would get another young wife to +keep me warm in my ole age, ’cording to King David nor no other king! So +dere, now! ’Cause de way dey hab o’ keepin’ you warm is by pummeling and +scalpin’ of you, and I don’t like it! So no young cullered gal needn’t +be coming arter me if ebber I’m a widderer ag’n! ’Deed and ’deed needn’t +dey!” + +They had by this time reached the water’s edge, where the little boat +lay moored and rocking. + +“Shall I put up de sail, Miss Em.? But dere ain’t a breaf ob breeze, +neider!” said ’Sias as he began to unmoor. + +“Oh, no! We will row. You take the oars, I the tiller, and we shall skim +the water like a bird,” said Em. + +“So we will, Miss Em., and won’t that be sociable?” cried old ’Sias +gleefully as he threw the chain ashore and took up the oars and placed +them in their rests. + +Em. nodded, entered the boat, seated herself, took the tiller and +steered for the island. + +Old ’Sias laid himself sturdily to the oars, and the little boat sped on +its way down the river. + +“Oh, how glorious this is in autumn!” exclaimed the girl, as, forgetting +all her troubles in the moment, she gazed with enthusiastic delight on +the magnificent scene before her. + +The mighty river, rolling on in calm strength to the sea; the lofty +precipices on the left, with their gray rocks dappled with clumps of +evergreen trees and parterres of variegated moss, and brightened by +springs and fountains of sparkling water dancing down their sides and +losing themselves in the river; the undulating, wooded hills on the +right, now changing into all the most brilliant colors of the autumn +foliage—crimson, orange, purple, golden, scarlet—all blended and +contrasted on the shore, and reflected in the shining river; the distant +island, midway between the banks, resting on the bosom of the river and +looking in the autumn dress of its groves like an immense bouquet of +gorgeous exotics. + +Em. sat and absorbed the beauty and glory of the scene into her soul, +and never spoke again until they had reached the landing at Edengarden. + +“Now, Miss Em., my honey, if you don’t mind walking up to de house by +yourself, I think I’ll jes’ set here in de boat and smoke my pipe and +think o’ King David and Abishey till you come back,” said old ’Sias as +he steadied the boat to let his passenger step out. + +“Very well, Uncle ’Sias, I will not keep you long.” + +“Never mind ’bout de ‘long,’ honey. I could stay here all day, willin’! +It’s so quiet like here, and clean out’n de reach o’ Sereny,” replied +the old man as he settled himself in his seat and took out his pipe and +began to fill it. + +Em. walked on through the belt of silver maples that had now turned in +their autumn tints so that they formed a golden girdle around the shores +of the beautiful island. + +Passing through and out of them she walked up the ornate terraces where +the clumps of trees in their fall dress of crimson, orange, and purple, +looked like gigantic posies, and the parterres of flowers were rich in +late roses, dahlias, chrysanthemums, and other autumn blooms. + +Up, past arbors, statues, and fountains, to the white, colonnaded piazza +that surrounded the white palace. + +“This might be the ‘Island of Calm Delights,’ and the fairy palace of +the Princess Blandina, for its beauty and its solitude,” said Em. to +herself as she went up the marble steps that led to the main entrance. + +She had intended to walk around the piazza to the rear of the house to +get the key from the solitary housekeeper; but as soon as she stepped +upon the porch she saw that the front door was open. + +It was not an unusual circumstance—Em. had twice, on former visits, +found the door open when other sightseers happened to be present. + +Therefore, without the least surprise or hesitation, she entered the +beautiful hall and passed directly to the saloon, where that wondrous +portrait of the “White Spirit” hung, which had, for her, so powerful a +fascination. + +To her slight surprise now she saw no one present. The room was vacant. +She went and opened one of the windows to throw a better light upon the +lovely portrait, and then she turned and stood before it. + +How perfectly proportioned was the slender, elegant form! How stately +and graceful the attitude! How soft and flowing the drapery! How fair +and delicate, how refined and spirituelle the lovely face, seen through +the misty tissue of the falling veil, which seemed so real that Em. felt +tempted to lift her hand and draw it aside that she might get a clearer +view of the beautiful vision. + +As she gazed a new light broke upon her. + +“Why, this is a bridal dress!” she said to herself. “Strange it never +struck me so before, but I suppose it was because I had heard the lady +always appeared veiled. But here she must have been painted in her +bridal dress, for that is certainly a bridal veil.” + +“Yes, she was painted in her bridal dress,” murmured a voice, soft, +sweet and low as the notes of an eolian harp. + +Em. started and turned around, to be transfixed by a pair of soft, deep, +dark-blue eyes, whose gaze held hers spellbound. + +The “White Spirit” stood before her. + + + + + CHAPTER XVIII + THE LADY OF EDENGARDEN + + And scenes long past of joy and pain + Come wildering through her wondering brain. + SCOTT. + + +Yes! There, holding the girl’s eyes spellbound by her mesmeric gaze, +stood the Wonder of the Wilderness, the mysterious being known as the +“White Spirit,” yet not in the traditional white robe and veil. + +No! The Lady of Edengarden was attired as any other conventional +gentlewoman of the period with artistic tastes might have been. + +She wore a long flowing soft gray silk dress, with fine white lace about +the throat and wrists, and with a knot of light-blue ribbon mixed with +lace on her bosom, and another of the same materials among the braids of +her sunny golden-brown hair. + +But the face, with its delicate patrician features, its fair transparent +complexion, and its soft, dreamy, dark-blue eyes, was the very same. + +“I—I beg your pardon, madam,” stammered Em. with an effort to recover +herself. + +“My child!—_Who are you?_” interrupted the lady, taking her hand and +turning her around to face the full light of the window. + +“I am the daughter of John Palmer, the overseer at the Wilderness Manor, +madam, Emolyn Palmer, and I thought——” + +“Em—olyn—Palm—er,” slowly repeated the lady, again interrupting the girl +and gazing steadily on her face. + +To escape this searching gaze into her soul Em. first lowered her eyes +and then raised them. + +Between the two front windows near which they stood hung a long pier +glass. Em. caught a full view of the lady and herself as they stood +together, reflected in the mirror, and started at the marvelous likeness +revealed—in all except dress the two seemed almost duplicates. In the +two faces there was scarcely even the perceptible difference that age +should have made. + +“Emolyn Palmer!” slowly repeated the lady. “Yes, yes, to be sure, I +know! Emolyn Palmer. Come here, my dear, and sit down.” + +And the lady led Em. to a _tête-à-tête_ sofa, placed her in one corner, +and took the other herself. + +“I wish to beg your pardon, madam. I am very sorry—I did not know you +were here—or I should not have presumed to intrude,” faltered Em. in +painful embarrassment. + +The lady did not answer, only continued to look at her thoughtfully, +kindly. + +“I—I had understood that you were so good as to let the neighbors come +in and look at your beautiful pictures and statues when you were away +from home, and so I used to come very often last summer, though I was +always in a dread for fear I should happen to come while you were here.” + +The lady smiled on the young speaker, but made no answer. + +“And now I have done what I had feared to do, and intruded on your +privacy, madam. I am sorry, and I hope you will forgive me,” continued +Em., half ashamed of having to say so much before receiving an answer, +yet reassured by the lady’s sweet, silent smile. + +“You have done nothing that requires excuse, my child. You could have +had no reason to suspect that I was present. I have never been here in +the autumn before. I always came the first of May and went the last of +September. Only this summer I went to Canada instead, and then came here +on the first of October to spend the autumn. So you see you are +blameless. Besides, Edengarden, with its house and grounds, is open to +the neighbors at all seasons. Even when I am here only my private suite +of rooms is reserved. They are at the top of the building; so you might +have roamed all over the house if you had wished to do so without the +fear of intrusion. And now let us talk of yourself, little one. Your +name is Emolyn Palmer,” said the lady, taking the girl’s slender white +hand in her own. + +“Yes, madam; but everybody calls me Em.,” shyly answered the girl. + +“Do not be afraid of me, my child! This is not the first time we have +met.” + +Em. started and gazed at the speaker in surprise. + +“No, my child, not the first time we have met. I held you in my arms and +blessed you when you were a babe of only a few weeks old,” continued the +Lady of Edengarden. + +Em.’s startled gaze of surprise softened as she lowered her eyes and +reflected that this might easily have been the case, as her mother had +many customers among fine ladies, whose little girls used to notice her +babies. + +“Do you know for whom you were named, Emolyn?” gently inquired the lady. + +“Oh, yes, madam. I was named for Miss Emolyn Wyndeworth, a saint, an +angel; but she has been in heaven these many years.” + +“How do you know that?” + +“My mother has told me so all my life.” + +“Your mother cherishes her memory, then?” + +“Oh, yes, yes, and speaks of her as pious Catholics speak of their +patron saints.” + +“Tell me of your mother, my child. I used to know her very long ago, +when I lived in the world. Does she enjoy good health, and is she much +more prosperous and much happier now at the Wilderness manor-house than +she used to be in Laundry Lane?” + +“To think you should know anything about Laundry Lane, dear lady! Why, +even to me it seems like a place in a past existence, that I had died in +and risen out of,” murmured Em. + +“And yet it is scarcely six months since you left it, while it has been +over sixteen years since I saw it. But about your mother, Emolyn.” + +“Oh, mother, too, is just as if she had died in Laundry Lane and risen +to Paradise! She is just as healthy and hearty and happy as any human +being can be. And she looks younger now than I ever saw her look. And so +does father. Did you ever know father, madam?” cheerfully inquired Em., +who was growing more and more at ease in the presence of the lady. + +“Yes, I knew your father, too, my child,” breathed the latter in a low +tone. + +“Well, father looks younger, too. He is not sallow now, and he doesn’t +stoop. He’s ruddy as a red apple and straight as an arrow. And they are +all as well and as happy as they can be at the Wilderness Manor. They +have everything that heart can wish. Without being wealthy, they have +all the enjoyments of wealth. And it is like Paradise after the +purgatory of Laundry Lane.” + +“I thank the Lord that one family, at least, is made happy,” breathed +the lady in low and earnest tones. + +“And we owe all that happiness to you, dear madam; for although they +have never seen you, yet of course we know that you are our Lady of the +Manor, Mrs. Lindsay,” said Em. + +“‘Lindsay?’ ‘Mrs. Lindsay!’” repeated the lady in a tone of surprise. + +“Yes, Lindsay—is not that your name?” + +“No; but it does not matter. Tell me more of your mother. Has she any +other children, younger than yourself, I mean?” + +“Oh, yes, ma’am, as many younger as there are older. The four elder ones +are all married and settled in the city where we came from, and we hear +from them about once a month. They are all doing well. And the four +younger ones are—in Paradise with us. And now, dear lady, may I ask you +a question?” + +“Yes, certainly. Have I not asked you many?” + +“Well, then, was it because you knew my dear father and mother that you +caused your agent to engage them to take charge of the old manor?” + +The lady hesitated for a moment, and then replied: + +“Yes, though at the time I did not care to be known in the transaction, +and so acted only through my agent, Carmichael, and my friend Mrs. +Willet.” + +“Oh! you knew Mrs. Willet, too! How many people and places you knew that +we knew!” exclaimed Em. in glad surprise, losing all the shyness she had +first felt in the presence of the strange lady. + +“Yes, a good many. And in this very transaction I found a coadjutor in a +friend of yours, whom, however, I did not know.” + +“A friend of ours?” said Em. thoughtfully. + +“Yes; Lieutenant Ronald—Bruce,” said the lady, hesitating and then +pronouncing the last word in a low tone and with a falling inflection. + +“Oh!” breathed Em. + +“It appears that he had some time before appealed to the Willets to +throw anything they could find to suit him in the way of John Palmer and +his family. So, when the proposal came from my agent, John Palmer and +his wife would have got the first offer upon Mr. Bruce’s standing +recommendation, even if his name had not been mentioned in my private +instructions.” + +“Then it is to you that we owe all our happiness! Oh! how grateful we +should be, and _are_, madam, for we know that we enjoy many privileges +not usually accorded to overseers and their families,” said Em., raising +the lady’s hand to her lips. + +“It was my happiness to make you happy,” replied the latter in a low +tone. + +“Oh! how glad my mother will be to know that it is to a former friend +she owes her present prosperity. But, dear lady, you say your name is +not that which the country people have given you. Will you tell me what +it is, so that I may rejoice my mother’s heart with the knowledge, that +we may know whom to name when we invoke blessings on our benefactress?” + +“Perhaps, my child. My name has never transpired in this neighborhood. +None know it but the people of the legal profession who are my agents. +The country folks here have given me more than one name—Lynn, Lindsay, +and so forth—all being somewhat akin to my own name, to which they may +have got some slight clew. But never mind about my name for the present; +I wish to speak of yours. Have you any middle name?” + +“Oh, yes, madam. I am Emolyn Wyndeworth Palmer. That is a very fine name +for a poor girl; but mother wished to give me the whole of her _angel’s_ +name, she said, and so she had me baptized Emolyn Wyndeworth.” + +“And you say that she for whom you were named died many years ago?” + +“Yes, madam, so many years ago that it was before my recollection. Oh, I +often wish that I could have seen her once, only once, to have her image +in my mind.” + +“How came she to die so young, my child?” inquired the lady in a low +tone. + +“I do not know, madam; but mother says she was a martyr; that she had +suffered a grevious wrong that broke her heart; but who had wronged her, +or how she was wronged, mother never would tell—only she said there were +some wrongs too great, and some sorrows too deep to be spoken of in this +world.” + +“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” murmured the Lady of Edengarden in a low voice. + +And then silence fell upon the two and lasted some minutes. + +Finally Em. rose to take leave. + +“You are going?” said the lady. + +“Yes, madam. I have only time to get home before dark. If I should be +out later my mother would fear something ill would happen to me. I am +very grateful, dear lady, for your kindness to me to-day, as well as for +your great goodness to our whole family. I wish you good-evening,” said +Em., lifting the lady’s hand to her lips and then turning to depart. + +“Stop,” said the Lady of Edengarden. + +Em. obeyed, and stood waiting. + +“You wish to tell your mother the name of her unknown friend?” + +“Oh, yes, madam—if you please,” eagerly exclaimed Em. + +“Tell her, then, that I am one whom she used to know and love as Emolyn +Wyndeworth.” + +Em. uttered a half-suppressed cry, reeled, and might have fallen, but +that the lady sprang and caught her, supported her to the sofa, and sat +her down in the corner, where she leaned back deathly pale and faint. + +“My child, I am very sorry for this; but I could not have supposed that +my announcement would have startled you so much,” said the lady as she +applied a small vinaigrette to the nose of the girl. + +“Oh, is it possible—can it be possible?” murmured Em. to herself. Then +with an effort she sat up and said: “Forgive me, madam; but it is indeed +as if one had returned from heaven to earth. It is not a dream? You +are——” + +“I am Emolyn Wyndeworth, my dear, and more convinced than ever of the +fond and faithful remembrance in which I have been held since the mere +announcement of my name and presence has produced such a effect upon +you, who had no personal recollection of me,” said the lady in a +soothing tone as she passed her hand caressingly over the girl’s bright +ringlets. + +“Ah, how happy I shall be when—when I can realize all this; but now—now +I am afraid of waking! Oh, I am, indeed, madam!” added Em. with a +nervous little laugh. + +The lady dropped her hand and left the room for a few moments, and then +returned, bringing a glass of wine which she made Em. drink. + +“You are almost hysterical over this surprise, my dear,” she said as she +placed the empty glass on the table. + +“I was never so before. I should not have been so under any other +surprise—but—to see one whom I had always been taught to reverence as a +patron saint, or a guardian angel, standing bodily before me—oh! you +know, madam, it seemed as if—_almost_ as if a seraph had descended from +heaven! Oh, how delighted, how past all delight my dear mother will be! +And father, too! And Mrs. Whitlock! And Aunt Monica! Poor old Aunt +Monica! Oh, I know, you used to know her! And, oh! _how_ dearly she +loved you! How fondly she talks of you to this day! Oh! what a jubilee +there’ll be when I go home with my news—if I don’t wake up first and +find it all a wild dream!” exclaimed Em., much revived by the wine she +had tasted. + +“My impetuous child, how you run on! Uttering names that seemed to have +been once as familiar as ‘household words’ to me, in that long past +existence out of which I have died and risen! ‘Whitlock!’ ‘Monica!’ One +was my dear old guardian’s housekeeper, and the other his nurse in his +last fatal illness! But what can you know of them?” + +“Why, they _live_ with us—Mrs. Whitlock ever since I can remember, and +old Aunt Monica ever since we moved out here. Father takes care of them +both. And they both love you and mourn you, dear lady! And, _oh!_ how +enraptured they will be, past all expression, when they find out +that—that—you still live in this world and they may look on your face +again!” + +“Is it possible they are so near me? Old Aunt Monica, I shall be happy +to see again. But for Mrs. Whitlock, I scarcely remember her, except as +my guardian’s attendant. It seems strange that she should remember me at +all. She saw so little of me.” + +“Oh, dear lady, you were so good, believe me, many, many poor people +remember you whom you most likely have forgotten.” + +“Now may Heaven forbid!” breathed the Lady of Edengarden in a low, +earnest tone. Then, speaking to Em., she said: “My child, you must not +flatter _any_ one, and least of all _me_.” + +“But, dearest madam, I do not know _how_ to flatter! I speak only the +very truth,” said Em. with a certain childish dignity. + +“Truth sometimes flatters. Do not praise me, little girl. I do not +deserve it, and—I cannot bear it. I wish to be _forgiven_, not praised. +To be _forgotten_, not remembered—except by the very few who love me. I +have talked to _you_, young namesake, longer than I have talked with any +one these fifteen years past. My heart seems strangely and tenderly +drawn towards you, little girl. Perhaps it is because you are the child +of one who was my most steadfast friend in a time of terrible trial. +Perhaps, also, it is because you were named for me, and I held you in my +arms and blessed you, when I myself had ‘most need of blessing.’ But all +that would hardly explain the yearning of my soul towards you, my child! +my child!” said the lady as she took the hand of the young girl and drew +her to her bosom. + +“Oh! May I tell you something? May I tell you something?” muttered Em. +in tones half smothered with emotion as she leaned on the bosom of the +lady, held there in a close embrace. + +“Tell me anything you please, my child.” + + + + + CHAPTER XIX + THE GOOD FAIRY + + Better to hope, though the clouds hang low, + And to keep the eyes still lifted, + For the sweet blue sky will soon peep through, + When the ominous clouds are drifted. + There never was a night without a day, + Nor an evening without a morning; + And the darkest hour, the proverbs say, + Is just before the dawning. + BALDWIN’S MONTHLY. + + +“Well, the first time I ever saw your portrait—that one hanging there in +the bridal dress and veil—I loved it. Oh! I loved it so I could have sat +all day and gazed upon it! And every time I have come back to the island +it was not to see any of the beautiful objects, it was to spend all the +time I had to spare in sitting before your portrait and gazing on it. +And now I have _you_!” concluded the girl with a convulsive clasp of the +lady’s form. + +“Yes, now you have me,” replied the latter, once more reseating Em. on +the sofa and sitting down beside her. “Now you have me. Therefore I feel +the less hesitation about disabusing your mind about that picture. It is +not my portrait, though very like me. It is my mother’s portrait, taken +in her bridal costume.” + +“What! that picture the image of you, dear madam, and yet not you! But +it is beautiful! Beautiful, for all that,” exclaimed Em., gazing from +the face of the lady to that of the picture. + +“My mother was a most beautiful woman,” murmured the lady. + +“And the portrait which hangs in the long drawing-room of the old +Wilderness manor-house—the portrait of a lady in the costume of the time +of Queen Elizabeth—whose face so much resembles yours and your +mother’s?” said Em. interrogatively. + +“Oh, the portrait of a remote ancestress, _so_ remote that even +tradition has little to say about her, except that Sir Walter Raleigh +wrote sonnets in praise of her beauty.” + +“That beauty has been faithfully handed down,” said Em. + +“The resemblance has, at any rate. But, my child, who told you that the +picture there was my portrait?” + +“Oh! Several persons, I think; but the first person who said so was old +’Sias, the gate-porter at the Wilderness Manor.” + +“Ah! I know—a little shriveled old man who refers everything back to the +time when he was a boy, several hundred years ago, ‘more or less?’” + +“Yes,” laughed Em., “the very same.” + +“What other marvels did he tell you about me? I would like to know. I +have never seen the old creature, nor any one else belonging to the old +Wilderness estate, although I am their lady; but I have heard about them +through my agent, and I am aware that many strange reports are afloat +respecting myself, merely because I appear here only a few months in the +year, and then live a strictly secluded life. Come! What have you heard +respecting your namesake, Emolyn?” + +“Oh, dear lady, many absurd rumors, that I now perceive must have been +false. That you were a semi-supernatural being—a ‘White Spirit’; that +your form was seldom visible, but when seen it was clothed from head to +foot in long, white robes; that your face was never seen by any one, for +it was always hidden beneath a white veil that flowed over your whole +figure.” + +“I could laugh, Emolyn, were not my laughing days past. White, indeed, +is my usual dress when here in summer. It is the most convenient and +comfortable wearing apparel. Often, too, when walking about the grounds +of my isolated island home I have thrown over my head, instead of hat or +bonnet, a white gauze scarf. From their boats on the river, or even when +sightseeing on the island, or in the house, the marvel-mongers have seen +me so, and so reported me. You know how a story grows by repetition +where there is nothing to contradict it? I was never seen in any way but +this, for I never left my island home except to leave the country, and I +never received any visitors. Behold the mystery of the White Spirit!” + +Em. sighed. It is not always and to all persons an unmixed pleasure to +have a beautiful supernatural illusion dispelled. She would have liked +to tell the lady her vision of the radiant woman, on the first and +second night of her stay in the old Wilderness manor-house; but she felt +that the time had not come for such confidences; and, furthermore, that +the time had come half an hour ago for her to take leave of her new +friend and start for home. + +“And what more do they say of me, child?” continued the lady. + +“That you are the benefactress of the neighborhood and—White Spirit, or +what not—you are an angel of benevolence.” + +“It shames me to be over-praised, little girl. Tell me something they +say which is not praise.” + +“Well, some scout the White Spirit; they say you are a childless widow, +and that your name is Mrs. Lynn.” + +“They do know quite a great deal about me, it seems. Well, my dear +child, as to this last rumor, it is not for _you_ to set them right by +making any explanations. You could not even do it properly, because you +do not know the circumstances. Let people continue to speak of me as +widow, and to call me Mrs. Lynn! They will not be so far wrong. Lynn is +only an abbreviation of my rightful name—however they came by such a +fractional part of the truth! So, my dear, let me still be Mrs. Lynn to +those who like to call me so. And mark me—to no one except your father, +your mother, and old Monica, must you reveal the secret that the Lady of +Edengarden is no other than the poor Emolyn Wyndeworth. They will +respect my wishes and keep my secret. The world thinks that I am dead, +and it thinks truly, for I am dead to the world. I come out of my grave +only for the sake of the few who love me.” + +“You dream beautiful dreams in your grave, dear lady! you who dreamed +this Edengarden into existence!” murmured Em. + +“Do you love this beauty so much, fair child? Then perhaps you will come +and share it with me. You are my little namesake. I shall beg you of +your mother some of these days. She has so many daughters she might +spare you to me!” + +“Oh, she would! she would! My dear mother would give you anything in her +possession that you might ask of her! And as for me—oh, how I should +love to live with you!” exclaimed Em. with a burst of enthusiasm. + +“What! and leave your _own_ mother?” wistfully inquired the lady, as if +to test the girl. + +“Oh, my dear mother has father and so many other boys and girls, as you +said, she can spare me; and _you have no one to love you_,” answered Em. +in a voice of ineffable tenderness and pathos. + +The lady stooped and kissed her for all reply. + +“Oh, how hard it is to get away! How I dislike to go. Yet I must. I have +overstayed my time. Dear lady, good-evening,” said Em. as she arose and +lifted the lady’s hand to her lips. + +“Stay! Who is going to take you home?” + +“Old ’Sias, the gatekeeper, madam.” + +“He of the ‘hundred and fifty years, more or less?’ Where is he?” + +“Waiting below, madam, in his boat—_The White Dove_.” + +“Then come, my dear, and I will walk with you as far as the Silver +Circle, for so we call the grove of maple trees that surrounds the +shores of the island—though it is a golden circle now, for the leaves +have put on their autumn livery,” said Mrs. Lynn, as she lifted a light +shawl of shining silky white gauze from a table near, threw it over her +head and shoulders and led the way from the house. + +“That is a beautiful girdle of maples around the island—silvery in the +summer and golden in the autumn,” said Em. as she walked beside her +conductress down the marble steps that led from terrace to terrace from +the summit to the plain. + +“Some day you shall see that golden circle from the top of the +observatory, for from there you can see the whole of it and the effect +is very fine,” answered the Lady of Edengarden as they crossed the +beautiful grounds and entered the circular grove. + +“Now I shall wish to come so often, for now it will not be the likeness +but the living lady that I shall long to see,” said Em. + +“You shall come as often as you like, and stay as long as you like. And +tell your mother, dear, that I never leave the confines of the island, +except when I leave the country. So I cannot go to see her; but I would +be very happy to see her here—and your father and old Aunt Monica. They +could come, as others come to see the island, and then they should see +me.” + +“And Ann Whitlock? _Poor_ Ann Whitlock?” pleaded Em. as the lady paused +to take leave. + +“No, my child, I do not know much about her; and my secret must not be +confided to any one but the three faithful friends in whom I can utterly +confide. Not that there is anything at stake, either; only, you see, +poor Emolyn Wyndeworth was stoned to death many years ago, and she is +dead and in her grave, and she will rise only for the two or three who +love her.” + +“Oh, but you dream such beautiful dreams in death. You have dreamed this +once barren rock into a blooming paradise, you have dreamed blessings +all around you! Oh! how I wish I could dream such beautiful dreams as +you do! Especially that I could dream such blessings on all the poor!” + +“Stay, my child! I have just thought how I may employ you. You shall +realize the dreams of blessings. My almoner is somewhat indolent with +declining years, and not quite equal to her duties. You shall be a +ministering angel to the needy, and find out all who are poor, sick, or +suffering in mind or body, and bring them to my knowledge, and +afterwards take them relief according to their requirements. I am sure +such occupation would suit you.” + +“It would make me happier than I ever hoped to be in this world!” +exclaimed Em. with enthusiastic delight. + +“Come to me, then, to-morrow. And let the others that I have named come +then, or at any other time. See! the sun is on the verge of the horizon. +You must hasten home. Oh! my darling, I am so thankful you wandered over +my grave and raised me from it. Good-night! God bless you!” And the lady +drew the maiden to her bosom and kissed her and turned away. + +Em. watched the receding figure until it was lost in the grove, and then +she hurried down to the shore, where she found the boat tied to its post +and rocking on the water, and old ’Sias sitting in the stern fast +asleep. + +She woke him up, and then said: + +“I have kept you waiting too long, haven’t I, Uncle ’Sias? I have been +gone more than three hours.” + +“Oh, no, honey; I has had a lubly quiet time here by myself! And I had +such a hebbenly dream! I dreamed how de Lord had tuk Sereny—or de debbil +had got her, I didn’t know which; ennyhow she had ’parted dis life, and +I was libbin’ alone at de gate-house and smokin’ my pipe in peace ’dout +de fear o’ being scalped or performed on enny more, and how you and +Marse Lieutenant Ronald Bruce, Esquire, was de lord and lady ob de manor +libbin’ up at de hall, and you was a-gwine out for a drive in a +cherryrout and four, and you called me to open de gate, and I jumped to +do it and woke up and found it was all a dream! How dese dere ’cevin’ +dreams do cheat us, Miss Em.,” said the old man as he busied himself +untying the boat. + +“They do so, Uncle ’Sias! But don’t let this dream cheat us into being +out after dark. Make haste, please,” said Em. as she stepped into the +boat and seated herself and took the tiller. + +The old man laid himself heartily to the oars, and the little boat shot +from the shore and soon left the island far behind it. + +The sun had sunk behind the mountains that formed the west bank of the +river, and cast their deep shadow far across the water; but Em., for the +first time, took little notice of the changes in the face of nature—she +was absorbed in thoughts of the strange discovery she had made that +day—the White Spirit, the Wonder of the Wilderness, the Lady of +Edengarden, no other than Emolyn Wyndeworth, who had disappeared from +the world so long ago, that she was supposed to have been many years in +Heaven. + +How amazed, how incredulous, and at length how delighted her mother +would be to hear the news! + +But the strangest truth in the girl’s experience now was the sudden and +perfect love and trust she already reposed in Emolyn Wyndeworth, the +Lady of Edengarden! She felt that near that lady was _rest_—rest for her +own troubled heart; that on her bosom, as on some angel mother’s, she +could lay her weary head and tell all the secret thoughts and +affections, faults and temptations that troubled her. + +She even resolved as she sat silently meditating in her seat, while she +mechanically steered the boat, that some day she would tell this lady +all about her ill-starred love affair with Ronald Bruce, for surely the +sympathetic Emolyn Wyndeworth would be a disinterested umpire between +the old and young. And who knew? she was so wonderfully powerful she +might even find a way to make them—the poor young lovers—happy. + +“Here, Miss Em.! Whar yer gwine? Here we is op’sit’ de landin’, honey! +Turn in!” were the words of old ’Sias that woke Em. from her deep +reverie. + +She steered for the landing and in a few minutes reached it. + +Old ’Sias drew in his oars and secured the boat. + +Em. jumped out and stood waiting until the old man joined her. + +Then they walked through the woods together. It was growing dark and +there was no moon. + +When they reached the park wall and the gate-house Em. took a silver +half dollar from her pocket and said: + +“Here, Uncle ’Sias, give this to Sereny from me.” + +“Yes, Miss Em. Thanky, honey! I understands! You give me this for Sereny +’cause yer think maybe it’ll save me from a performance. Which you may +be sure it will, honey. But I ain’t a-gwine to leabe you here, Miss Em. +I gwine to see yer safe t’rough dese woods and in sight ob de house +ennyhow,” said old ’Sias as he persistently trotted by the young girl’s +side, guarding her with the fidelity of a Newfoundland dog. + +It was surprising, too, to see how fast the little old man could get on +with the aid of his short, thick stick, which, at every step, he put +down with the vim of a third foot. + +They soon came out of the thickest woods to where the trees grew farther +apart, under the walls of the manor-house. They diverged to the right, +where the broad gate leading to the rear of the premises stood open, and +through which they could see the firelight gleaming from the windows of +the Red Wing. + +Here the old man stopped and said: + +“I’ll bid yer good-night here, Miss Em., and hurry back home. No use to +try Sereny’s temper more’n necessary, if I has got a silver half dollar +to satisfy her. So I’ll bid you good-night, and de Lord bless you, +honey.” + +“And you, too, Uncle ’Sias, good-night, and thanks,” answered Em. as she +entered the gate and walked rapidly towards the lighted windows of her +cheerful home. + + + + + CHAPTER XX + REVIVAL + + ’Twas many and many a year ago, + In days when we were young, + And o’er all life’s coming morning, lo! + Hope’s magic glory hung. + PERSEVER. + + +“Well, Em. Palmer, and where have you been? I had been expecting you +home for more’n an hour, and was just thinking of sending Tom to look +for you, for fear something had happened to you!” exclaimed Susan Palmer +on seeing her daughter enter the house. + +“I have been nowhere but to Edengarden, mother,” answered the girl as +she threw off her shawl and bonnet and prepared to help the busy +housewife, who was actively engaged in preparing the supper, while the +three little girls were all employed in setting the table. + +“But what kept you so long? It’s dangerous for a young girl to stay out +so late in these woods!” + +“Oh, dear mother, I was safe enough! Old ’Sias came with me up to the +gate; and as for what kept me,” said the girl, coming up close to the +side of the woman, “I will tell you that as soon as we are alone.” + +“I—I hope it was no harm!” whispered Susan anxiously. + +“None in the world, dear mother, but something that you will be glad to +hear, and, _hush_, I can’t tell you here! But where is Aunt Monica that +you should be getting supper?” inquired Em. aloud. + +“Oh, Aunt Monica is a fixture at the bedside of Ann Whitlock!” answered +Susan. + +“Ann Whitlock! What, is she sick? She was well enough when I left home!” + +“She’s sick enough now, then. She fell down in a fit this afternoon as +sudden as if she’d been shot or struck with lightning! She was sitting +at this very fire, knitting, when it happened. If I hadn’t been on the +spot and picked her up in a minute she might ’a’ been burnt to death!” + +“Oh, how shocking! Oh, how sorry I am! What was it, mother? What sort of +a fit?” + +“Monica says it is a paralytic stroke, just like that what laid her own +old marster low. You see, Monica was in the room when it happened, and +she helped me to tote the old woman to the settee and lay her on it. And +then, while we ’plied hartshorn to her nose and beat her hands and that, +I sent all the children in different directions to hunt for their +father, for I didn’t exactly know whether he was in the barn or the +stables, or where. But, law; we might as well ’a’ beat a dead corpse! +She didn’t give no more signs of life, nor nothing!” + +“Oh, how _dreadful_!” cried Em., sitting down and clasping her hands. + +“Well, so it is; but you know Ann Whitlock was quite aged.” + +“She never had a spell of sickness in her life before, though!” + +“No, if she had had she might have died. As it is, she has lived to this +old age until all her body is worn out at once, and down she draps!” + +“Has a doctor seen her? But, oh, of course not! There has been no time +to get one here! But has a doctor been sent for, mother?” + +“I was just a-going to tell you, Em. The boys found their father in the +stables and told him what had happened, and he told them to saddle one +of the fastest horses and bring it round to the door for him, and he, +you see, hurried on to the house as hard as ever he could to see exactly +what was the matter. When he see Ann Whitlock lying in that state on the +wooden settee he said how we must get her up to her own bed as soon as +possible, and so he helped me and Monica to tote her upstairs, and, law, +Em., it almost broke the three backs of us, she is such a heavy old +woman, poor soul!” + +“Poor soul!” echoed the girl with a sigh. + +“Well, child, John left us to undress her and get her between the sheets +as well as she could, and he mounted Queen Bess, and off he went for +Greyrock to fetch a doctor, and as that is thirty miles off, he said he +didn’t expect to be back much before to-morrow morning.” + +“And, oh, will she have to wait all that time for attendance?” exclaimed +Em., clasping her hands in dismay. + +“She might have had to do so; but, thank fortune, she didn’t; for what +do you think—as your father was tearing along for life and death on the +river turnpike he met Dr. Willet full tilt in the road!” + +“DR. WILLET!” exclaimed Em. in astonishment. + +“_Dr. Willet!_” repeated Susan. “Yes, Dr. Willet, who, it seems, and +reached Greyrock in the stagecoach this morning, and after resting +himself had hired a horse and started to ride to The Breezes, where he +was going to pay a long promised visit to his friend and neighbor, +Commodore Bruce! There! what do you think of that? If your father, or if +the doctor had been five minutes earlier or later they must have missed +each other, for the doctor had just reached that part of the road where +it turns from the river ’pike to enter the mountain pass leading to The +Breezes! There! and if your father had missed him he would have to have +ridden thirty miles to Greyrock, and thirty miles back, making sixty +altogether, before he would have got a doctor to poor old Ann Whitlock. +But there he met Dr. Willet right in the very nick of time. Now, what do +you think of _that_, Em?” + +“It was astonishing and most fortunate,” said the girl; but her thoughts +reverted to the more astonishing news she had in store for her mother. + +“Well, you know as both was a-going of it as hard as they ever could go, +they all but rid over each other before they knew it; and then they were +so glad to see each other, and John thanked Dr. Willet for the hand he +had in getting of him such a good situation as he’s got now; and Dr. +Willet asked John how all the family was, and then when John told him +all was well and hearty save Ann Whitlock, which had just fell down in a +fit, why, Dr. Willet just turned his horse’s head immediate, and said he +would come and look after the poor woman, whom he had known in old times +as a skilful sick-nurse. So about an hour after I had seen John ride +away, to be gone all night, after the Greyrock doctor, you may just +fancy my astonishment to see him come riding in with Dr. Willet. Why, I +rubbed my eyes—as much expecting to see the President as he!” + +“But what did he say about poor Auntie Whitlock? Did he say her attack +was dangerous—fatal?” anxiously inquired Em. + +“He said it was a paralytic stroke. She might get over it or she might +not; and he gave most particular directions how to treat her, and said +as how he would see her every day during his stay at The Breezes. We +will all do the best we can for her, Em., the same as if she was my +mother and your grandmother; but, Lord! child, when a woman gets to be +seventy-five what can you expect but her removal to a better life?” + +“Yes, mother,” sighed Em; for she was as yet too young, too much in love +with this present life to think very seriously of that which is to come. + +“Here’s father and the boys. Now put supper on the table, Em.!” said +Susan Palmer as John and his two lads entered the kitchen, which, since +the weather had turned cold, was used as a dining-room as well. + +“Now, Miss Runaway! And where have you been all day?” inquired John +Palmer good-humoredly as soon as he saw Em. + +“Only to the island, father, dear,” she answered. + +“She says she’ll tell me what kept her by and by. Some poor folks, I +s’pose, that she stopped to do something for. Come, John, sit down and +begin, or your supper’ll be cold,” said the practical housewife. + +John was an obedient husband besides being a hungry man, and so he sat +down, asked a blessing, and then made a vigorous attack on the viands +before him. + +They were still at the table when there came a rap at the kitchen door. + +Em., being the nearest, left her seat and opened it. + +Then, to the surprise of every one, Lieutenant Ronald Bruce walked into +the kitchen. Yes, walked in with the innocent and delighted air of a +child who was doing a voluntary good deed for which he expected to be +praised and rewarded. And then—just as if he had not been forbidden the +house that very morning, and had not departed both in sorrow and in +anger—he shook hands with Em., saying: + +“Good-evening, Miss Palmer. I hope you are quite well;” and then +impudently walked up to John and Susan, shook hands with them both, +nodded to the young ones, and said: + +“Mr. Palmer, I come to you from The Breezes on an errand. Dr. Willet was +remarking that your sick woman, Mrs. Whitlock, needed brandy, and that +none good was to be found in the neighborhood. So my uncle sent down to +his own cellar at once and had up two bottles of this rare old +cognac—vintage 1781—and he sends it to you with his good wishes. Here it +is!” concluded the young man, taking from each side pocket a long brown +paper parcel, unrolling them and displaying two dusty, mouldy, cobwebbed +bottles, which he stood upon the supper table. + +Now what could John or Susan do or say? + +I will tell you what Em. did. She set a chair before a vacant place at +the table and said: + +“Will you join us and take a cup of tea, Mr. Bruce?” + +“Thanks; I will gladly do so if Mrs. Palmer will permit me,” smilingly +answered the young man, as, taking this permission for granted, he +seated himself in the offered chair. + +“I’m a thousand times obliged to Commodore Bruce, and so would Mrs. +Whitlock be if she was conscious enough to know anything about it. But I +must say I am sorry, sir, that you should have taken the unusual trouble +to bring it over yourself,” said John, divided as to his emotions +between gratitude and indignation. + +“Now who _was_ to bring it but me? The commodore is too old, and the +doctor too tired to turn out after dinner. And as to trusting one of the +men servants—why, see here! I’d trust any of them with any amount of +money or of jewels, and they would carry either safe as a bank. But when +it comes to old cognac brandy, why all the saints and angels in heaven +couldn’t prevent one of them from drinking half the contents of the +bottles and filling them up with spring water! And then you know the +brandy would never get here at all. The messenger would have been dead +drunk before night, and dead, _dead_ before morning, and _honest_ from +that time forth, having made a meal for many crows! Now do you see? The +affair is in a nutshell. I had to bring the brandy myself.” + +“And I am sure it was very kind of you, sir, and we are all very +grateful,” said Susan Palmer politely as she handed the unbidden guest a +cup of tea. + +John sighed. + +“I tried to put a damper on this here; but it’s no use. ‘Sich is life,’” +he muttered in confidence to his own grizzled black beard. + +“And you’ll not turn me out to-night, I feel sure, my kind hostess?” +said the young man as he bowed in accepting the cup and the compliment. + +“Indeed, no! Your room is ready just as you left it this morning! Turn +you out, indeed! What! to ride up that breakneck mountain-pass in the +dead of night? Not likely. Even if you wanted to go ever so much I +wouldn’t let you do it, no, not if I had to keep you by force and +violence!” said Susan. + +“Quite right. I shall give you no trouble, my gentle jailer,” laughed +Ronald Bruce. + +As soon as supper was over Em. slipped away and went upstairs to inquire +how her poor old friend, Mrs. Whitlock, was. + +Ann Whitlock’s chamber was over the dining-room. As Em. entered it she +saw that it was at once warmed and lighted by a blazing wood fire in the +fireplace, near which sat old Monica in a big arm-chair. + +The sick woman lay on her comfortable bed, apparently asleep. + +Em. closed the door noiselessly and crossed the room on tiptoe. When she +had reached the side of old Monica she whispered: + +“Will my whispering disturb her?” + +“Oh, no, honey; nothing ’sturbs her. She don’t take no notice ob +nothing,” answered the old nurse, not in a whisper exactly, but in that +low tone that well-trained people use in a sick-room. + +“Is she very ill, Aunt Monica? _You_ know as well as anybody.” + +“Oh, no, honey. Not near so bad as what old marster was. Why, _she_ can +swallow and look at you; dough she can’t move or speak.” + +“Do you think she will get over it?” + +“Yes, honey, dough I doubt she will ebber be as well as she was before. +And whenebber she hab another ’tack like dis it will be sure to finish +her, honey! But she’s gettin’ de best of ’tention now, you may be sure, +honey.” + +“I know she is. Now, Aunt Monica, I will take your place and watch here +until you go down and get your supper.” + +“No such thing, Miss Em.! I heard young Captain Bruce come in just now, +and I ain’t a-gwine to take you away from his company for de sake o’ my +supper. So you go right straight downstairs and entertain de young +gentleman as you ought for to do!” + +“No, Aunt Monica; you know that I will not. Mrs. Whitlock has always +been a kind friend to me, and I must help to wait on her. Go now and get +your supper.” + +“Well, Miss Em., when you have once said a thing I know you’ll stick to +it; so I’ll go down,” replied the old woman, getting up and leaving the +room. + +Em. went to the bedside and looked at the paralytic. + +Ann Whitlock lay there like one placidly sleeping; there was no sign of +suffering about her. + +Em. knelt beside her and offered up an earnest prayer for her recovery, +and then she returned to her arm-chair before the fire, sat down and +lapsed into thought. She had so much to think of! Her meeting with the +Lady of Edengarden; her discovery of the identity of this lady with that +of the long mourned Emolyn Wyndeworth; the strong, mutual attraction +that seemed to draw and bind her to that lady and that lady to her; the +fatal attack of Ann Whitlock; the unexpected arrival of Dr. Willet; the +sudden reappearance of Ronald Bruce;—all these unexpected events that +seemed to have in them something of the nature of destiny took hold on +her imagination, filled her mind and occupied all her thoughts. + +Time passed unheeded until the re-entrance of old Monica, who +unceremoniously said: + +“Now, honey, if you please, I’ll jes’ take my old rocking-chair, and +you’ll go downstairs to your young man! Young man for young gal, and ole +rocking-chair for ole ’omen. Behold de beauty ob de ’daptations!” +concluded Aunt Monica as she settled herself in the depths of the +softly-cushioned arm-chair and put out her feet to the fire. + +Em. stepped on tiptoe from the room, noiselessly closed the door behind +her and went downstairs, where she found the family circle gathered +around the kitchen fire listening to one of Ronald’s sea yarns. + +The young man arose and gave her his chair and went and got another, +which he took good care to place beside her as he seated himself. + +How Ronald taxed his brain that night to invent marvelous stories of +voyages, storms, battles, fires, shipwrecks, rescues, pirates, barbarous +shores, desert islands, deliverances, and treasure-trove! + +And how John listened with eyes wide open and mouth often agape to +swallow such huge prodigies. + +In a short pause, while John mended the fire, Ronald found time to +whisper to Em.: + +“If everything else goes by the board, my dear, and you and I have to go +to housekeeping together in a cottage I can keep the pot boiling by +writing stories for the papers, can’t I?” + +“Oh, Ronald! Then it is not all true?” whispered Em. + +“I suppose it is—of some other people on some other seas and shores, on +some other planets in this boundless universe, or it never would have +come into my head; but it is not true of _this_ world, as far as I +know!” + +When the last wonderful tale was told the family separated and retired +to bed, leaving only Em. and her mother to settle up the kitchen. + + + + + CHAPTER XXI + THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE + + Heaven has to all allotted, soon or late, + Some happy revolution of their fate; + Whose motions, if we watch and guide with skill, + (For human good depends on human will,) + Our fortune rolls as from a smooth descent, + And from the first direction takes its bent. + DRYDEN. + + +“Do you think they are all in bed and asleep?” whispered Em. as, having +covered up the kitchen fire, the mother and daughter stood for a moment +on the hearth, each with a short candle in a brass candlestick in her +hand. + +“They are all abed, I’ll warrant you. I can’t say about their being +asleep, though. Why do you ask?” inquired Susan. + +“Because one or another of the boys, or father, is sometimes going +around after some door or window they have forgotten to look to, or +something else, long after we have supposed them to be abed and asleep, +mother.” + +“Well, what of it, Em.?” + +“Why, mother, I have something to tell you that I do not wish to have +overheard by anybody.” + +“Is it the reason why you have stayed out so long?” + +“Yes, mother.” + +“Well, now, Em., that can keep till to-morrow morning. I know it’s about +some poor family you have been visiting and want me to help, without +your telling me, and I can attend to it to-morrow. I am too tired +to-night for anything but my bed. There!” + +“But, dear mother, it is not about any family that needs help, or +anything of the sort! Oh, mother, it is something I cannot speak to you +of in the morning, when there is so much going to and fro, and we have +no privacy.” + +“Well, then, I do suppose it is about Ronald Bruce you want to talk to +me. But it is of no use, Em.! I agree with your father. You must give +that young man up and forget him. And after to-morrow he _must not_ be +allowed to come here again! He got his walking papers this morning, and +he ought to have been guided by them and not returned. Though, of +course, as he did so, and brought that rare old brandy for the sick +woman, I had to attend to him and treat him with politeness. And, +besides, to tell the truth, he has a way with him that nobody can +resist. That’s the reason I say he must _never_ come here again! I told +your father that he must put him _on his honor_ not to come again unless +he came with Commodore Bruce’s authority to marry you. As that’s +impossible, he’s sure not to return.” + +“It was not of Mr. Bruce I wished to speak, mother,” said Em. in a low +tone. + +“Well, then, what in the name o’ sense was it?” demanded Susan Palmer +somewhat impatiently, for she was tired and sleepy, and wearying for +bed. + +Em. drew nearer, put her lips to her mother’s ear, and whispered: + +“Of Emolyn Wyndeworth! I have heard something of her fate!” + +“EH!” cried Susan Palmer, starting and dropping her candlestick. She was +wide awake now, with every vestige of weariness departed, and the +longing for bed turned into the longing for news. + +“Come up with me to my attic room, dear mother; there is a good fire +burning there, and we shall be safe from interruption; and, oh, I have +so much to tell you!” said Em. as she stooped and picked up the fallen +candlestick and replaced the candle in it. + +“Em.! are you sure of what you are saying?” exclaimed Susan Palmer as +soon as she could speak. + +“Quite sure, mother. Come,” said the girl, leading the way from the +kitchen. + +“But how on the face of the earth could _you_ have heard anything about +it?” breathlessly inquired the mother as she followed her daughter +upstairs. + +“Dear mother, just wait till we get out of hearing of any of these +rooms, and then I will tell you everything,” replied Em. in a whisper. + +“Where did she die? How long has she been dead? What was the matter with +her besides a broken heart? Tell me that if you can,” persisted Susan +Palmer as she tugged breathlessly up the attic stairs after her +daughter. + +“Mother, she is not dead!” whispered Em. + +“EH!” cried the woman. + +“Hush-sh-sh—here we are at my room. Come in, mother, and when I have +shut the door I will tell you all about it,” said Em. as she entered, +followed by her eager listener. + +Em. secured the door, rolled the easy-chair up before the cheerful fire, +made her mother sit down comfortably in it, drew a low stool to her +side, seated herself, and prepared to commence her narration; but was +vehemently interrupted by Susan’s breathless inquiries: + +“You say she’s not dead? Are you sure? How do you know? If she is not +dead, where has she been all this time that no one has ever heard of +her?” + +“Mother, dear, I do not quite know, except that she has been at +Edengarden, and traveling. But, though living, she has been dead to the +world, she says.” + +“‘_She says!_’ Why, for Heaven’s sake, girl, have you _seen_ her and +heard her talk, _yourself_?” exclaimed Susan in a transport of wonder +almost as great as if she had heard Em. tell of seeing and hearing a +spirit from Paradise. + +“Yes, mother, dear, how else could I have known anything about the +lady?” said Em., who would then have delivered a “plain unvarnished +tale” of her day’s adventures had not Susan’s impetuous +cross-examination precluded all possibility of a consecutive narrative. + +Em. was put upon the witness-stand and compelled to answer as she was +questioned. + +“When did you see her? Where was she? How came you to meet her? How did +she look? What did she say?” + +“I met her by accident this afternoon on the island, while I was looking +at one of the pictures in the house. She looked thin and white, but +young and beautiful as any angel for all that. She asked me my name, and +when I told her she seemed to know all about me, and was very kind to +me, and sent her love to you and wishes you and old Aunt Monica and +father to come with me to see her to-morrow, if possible, or, if not, as +soon as you can,” answered Em., pouring out her news as rapidly as she +could to satisfy the ravenous demands of the inquirer. + +“Well—well—well! Wonders will never cease in this world. Why, this beats +Mr. Ronald’s sea yarns, Em. Emolyn Wyndeworth alive! Emolyn Wyndeworth +the Lady of Edengarden! So near us, and not to let me know—_me_, who +loved her so dearly, and had good cause, for the child sold her very +clothes to buy my children bread!” + +And here Susan Palmer began to cry, though she could not for her life +have told whether it was for present joy or remembered sorrow. It was +probably from both causes. + +“Not to let _me_ know she was living, and so near—me, who named my +prettiest child after her!” sobbed Susan. + +“But, mother, she _has_ let you know. She has sent you word by me. +Remember, she has only been here for a few days—since the first of +October.” + +“Oh! You didn’t tell me _that_, Em. I thought she had been here all the +summer, as the people say she generally is. I wish you would tell _a +straight story_, Em., and then I could understand things better,” said +Susan Palmer as she wiped her eyes on her clean apron. + +“That is just what I have been trying to do, mother; so, if you will let +me, I will begin at the beginning and tell you every particular so +plainly that it will be as good as if you had gone there with me +yourself and seen and heard everything.” + +“Well, then, so do, Em., and I’ll not interrupt you,” said Susan, +settling herself comfortably back in the old easy-chair and stretching +out her feet to the fire. + +And, having had her first ravenous and devouring cravings of curiosity +satisfied, the good woman kept her word, and sat and listened with +patient attention while Em. gave her a careful and detailed account of +her visit to the island and interview with the Lady of Edengarden. + +Even when Em. had finished her narrative her mother showed no +disposition to retire. All sense of weariness and drowsiness seemed to +have vanished. Susan Palmer appeared to be disposed to sit up all night +before the fire in her daughter’s chamber, talking of Emolyn Wyndeworth. + +“I wonder what she has been doing all these years when she has not been +at Edengarden? Traveling all over the world, I do suppose, scattering +blessings wherever she passed, I _know_; for the good of others was her +only object, thought of self was never in her heart. I hardly think she +ever felt she had any self until that sharp trouble of hers pierced her +through and through, and drove her out into the desert places of the +world.” + +“What trouble was that of hers, dear mother, can you tell me?” inquired +Em. + +“No, I can’t tell you. I think _she_ will some day, as she has taken +such a wonderful fancy to you. You say she wants you, Em.?” + +“Yes, mother, dear, she wants me to live with her as companion, I +suppose. She must be very lonely, you know.” + +“Would you like to go, Em.?” + +“Oh, dear mother, yes, indeed, if you and father are willing to part +with me.” + +“It would hardly be like parting with you to lend you to her, so near +us, too! And it would help you to forget that young man, whom you _must_ +forget, Em. Well, child, if she wants you and you want to go to her _you +shall go_; so that is settled. Your father would never dream of making +any objection when anything as much for your good as that is in _every_ +respect turns up.” + +“I was sure you would like me to go, mother.” + +“Why, of course. Now I tell you what we will do. To-morrow morning, if +no change for the worse takes place in poor Ann Whitlock, we will borrow +old ’Sias’s boat, and me and your father, just us three and no more, +will start for Edengarden. And when we get safe in the middle of the +river, out of hearing of every one but the water-fowl, we will tell +father all about it! And, oh, won’t he be astonished? But we won’t drop +a word of it to him, or any one else, until _then_. As to old Monica, +although we have the lady’s leave to do it, we will not say anything to +her yet awhile either. It would only distract her mind from the sick +woman, who needs all her attention. What do you think, Em.?” + +“Dear mother, I think you are quite right. Oh, let us be very cautious; +for though I cannot imagine why that lovely Lady of Edengarden should +wish to keep her identity as Emolyn Wyndeworth concealed beyond that it +is from the memory of some great sorrow suffered in her youth—still, I +know she made such a strong point of our keeping her secret when she +gave me her confidence that I would not for all this world could offer +me even seem to betray the trust!” + +“Don’t be afraid o’ me, Em.! I can be as secret as the grave,” said +Susan Palmer. + +The clock in the hall clanged out twelve. + +“I declare, it is midnight! Good-night, Em.! I must go to bed, though I +don’t believe I shall sleep a wink this night with thinking of Emolyn +Wyndeworth!” said the good woman as she lighted her candle and left the +room. + +Em. did not go to bed, however. She drew the brands together to make +them safe, laid a log upon them to keep the fire, and then blew out her +candle and tripped downstairs to Ann Whitlock’s room, which she entered. + +She found the sick woman either sleeping or unconscious, and old Monica +sitting in the arm-chair before the fire, wakeful and watchful. + +“I have come to tell you that you must lie down and sleep. I will take +your place until daylight,” said Em., leaning over the chair. + +Old Monica resisted this mandate; but Em. insisted, and finally the +nurse compromised matters by simply lying down on the outside of the bed +behind Ann Whitlock, where she soon fell fast asleep. + +Em. herself felt very drowsy, so, for fear of following old Monica’s +example if she should sit in the old rocker over the fire, she drew a +very _un_easy, hard, and high-backed chair to the side of the bed and +sat down to watch her patient. + +When feeling herself almost overcome by sleep she would rise and walk +noiselessly up and down the room. + +If her patient stirred she would give her a teaspoonful or more of beef +tea and brandy, which the sick woman would swallow mechanically. + +If the fire burned low she mended it by putting on fresh logs. + +And so she passed the night in the sick-room. + +When morning dawned she did not wake old Monica; but the aged are never +long or heavy sleepers; so, as the first rays of the rising sun streamed +through the open slats of the window shutters, the old nurse opened her +eyes, sat bolt upright on the bed, took an instant to collect her +faculties, and then got down and said: + +“Lord bless you, honey, for dis ’freshing nap as I have had! Now, tell +me how you bofe got along ’dout me.” + +“You bofe” being supposed to signify the young nurse and her patient, +Em. gave Monica a full and satisfactory report of the night’s watch. + +Then the girl went up to her own room, took a refreshing wash in +ice-cold water, and after brushing her hair and changing her dress she +felt as wide awake as if she had slept instead of watching all night +long. + +She went down into the parlor, expecting to find some part of the family +there in honor of their guest. + +She found no one but Ronald Bruce, standing with his back to the wood +fire. + +He sprang to meet her. + +“Dear Em., I have been here since daybreak, hoping some good spirit +favorable to poor, unfortunate lovers might whisper in your ear and send +you down to see me,” he exclaimed as he took both her hands and drew her +towards him. + +But she slipped away and evaded the kiss he meant, as she said to him: + +“Ronald, I _am_ glad to speak to you alone for a moment, and for the +last time, dear Ronald, until our meeting shall be sanctioned by my +parents and your uncle.” + +“Little prude! Little prig!” muttered the young man, half sulkily, half +lovingly. + +“I wanted to tell you, Ronald, that my mother and father both love you +very dearly. Indeed, you ought to know that.” + +“Perhaps I do know it and presume on it a little.” + +“But for all that, Ronald, for reasons that you know of my father +intends this morning to put you upon your honor never to come to this +house or seek my presence again until you can come with your uncle’s +sanction.” + +“As if my uncle had a parent’s authority over a man twenty-three years +old!” impatiently burst forth the youth. + +“However that may be, my father insists that you seek my hand _only_ +with your uncle’s sanction. And now, Ronald, I must be brief in what I +have to say to you, for some one may come in at any moment. It is this, +dear Ronald: Submit to my father’s terms patiently. He loves you as well +as me, and he would not do anything that he did not believe would be for +your good as well as for mine.” + +“I wish to the Lord in heaven that people would mind their own business +and leave us and our good alone!” vehemently exclaimed the vexed lover. + +“Ronald! Ronald! How can you say such things in reference to father? He +has a right to be obeyed by his own daughter and in his own house! But +listen, dear Ronald, for this is what I wished to say to you: _Be +patient_. I am convinced that all will soon be well.” + +“Em., my dearest, what do you mean by that? Have you——” + +But before the young man could utter another word John Palmer entered +the room, bid his guest a cordial good-morning, and invited him to walk +in to breakfast, which was waiting for them. + +Ronald returned the greeting, and then openly gave Em. his arm and took +her in to breakfast. + +They no longer treated the young lieutenant as a stranger, so all the +family were assembled around the table, only waiting for his entrance to +take their seats. + +After greetings had been exchanged they sat down. + +Susan dispensed the tea and coffee; John the broiled venison steaks; and +Em. the buckwheat cakes. + +Love had not taken away the young man’s appetite, for he did full +justice to the food set before him. + +When breakfast was over he took leave of his kind hostess and her +family, gave Em.’s hand a prolonged squeeze, and, attended to the yard +by John Palmer, went out and mounted his horse and started for The +Breezes, wondering as he rode slowly away what Em. could have meant by +her cheerful prophecy that all would soon be well. + + + + + CHAPTER XXII + HOPE + + Hope bids me hope! In that consoling word + Is peace and comfort to my soul restored. + None without hope has loved the brightest fair. + For love can hope where reason would despair. + LORD LYTTLETON. + + +“Did you ask that young gentleman not to visit here again? Did you put +him on his honor not to come?” anxiously inquired Susan Palmer of her +husband as he re-entered the kitchen after seeing his guest off. + +“Well,” said honest John, hesitating and looking down, “to tell you the +plain truth, Susan, I didn’t.” + +“You didn’t!” + +“No: I have been trying to tell him all yesterday and this morning, but +he was so very kind and pleasant all the while that I hadn’t a chance to +break in anywhere, even edgeways, to say he must never come back again. +Well, I hadn’t the heart to do it—there! Why, I coud as soon have struck +a friend in the face while he was smiling up into mine.” + +Em. went up to her father, put her arms around his neck and kissed him +quietly. + +“Yes, but you know I ought to have forbidden him the house, though, all +the same, Em.,” whispered John Palmer, shaking his head. + +“Oh, no, no, no, dearest father, no! Your kind heart led you right,” +exclaimed Em. + +“I know I can trust you, Em. You will not disobey me, my girl?” + +“Oh, never, never, father! I will never do anything you disapprove.” + +“I know it, my darling. You are safe enough.” + +“That’s not the question,” snapped Susan. “It’s the girl’s peace and +quietness I’m thinking of, and if that young man is to be allowed to +come here whenever he pleases, how is she ever to forget him, I’d like +to know? Being as things are, the sooner Em. leaves home the better.” + +“Well,” sighed John, “’twas _you_, Susan, as gave him the heartiest +welcome last night, and now you blame me—but ‘sich is life.’” + +Having finished with his favorite bit of philosophy, John took his pipe +from the mantelpiece and walked out to the orchard, where the negroes +were gathering winter apples for storing. + +He had scarcely left the house when Dr. Willet arrived on his morning +visit. + +He tied his horse and walked into the open door of the passage without +ceremony. + +Em. met him as she came out of the kitchen. + +“Well, my dear, how do you do? How do you like living in the country? It +is only a few months since you left town, yet I dare say now it seems to +you quite a long while,” said the good doctor cheerfully as he shook +hands with the girl. + +“It seems a lifetime, sir, since we lived in Laundry Lane! Longer even +than that. It seems—that period, I mean—to belong to some remote state +of pre-existence!” answered Em. + +“I thought so! I thought so!” said the doctor with evident satisfaction. +“So you don’t pine to return?” + +“Oh, no, sir, no! And yet the old lane and the poor, dear children who +still live there!” said Em. compassionately. + +“Yes, yes. Ah, here comes your mother! Well, Mrs. Palmer, how is our +patient to-day?” + +“Oh, doctor, good-morning to you! She is better, I think. I have just +come down from her bedside. She can move her hands and feet, but can’t +turn over yet. She can also chew and swallow, but she can’t speak. And +she seems to understand every word we say to her, but she can’t answer +except by signs.” + +“Just so, but all that is a very great improvement since yesterday. I +will go up and see her.” + +“Oh, doctor, wasn’t it a Providence you being in the neighborhood just +at this time?” + +“It was fortunate,” said Dr. Willet as he followed Mrs. Palmer upstairs. + +Em. took her workbasket and sat down to sew until the return of her +mother and the physician. + +After an absence of about twenty minutes they came down the steps, +talking cheerfully, the doctor more than confirming the hopeful report +of the nurse as to the old patient’s amendment. + +When Dr. Willet had taken a kindly leave of all the family and had +ridden away Em. said to her mother: + +“Don’t you think now that we might trust Mrs. Whitlock with Aunt Monica +and Aunt Sally, and get father to take us to Edengarden, mother?” + +“Yes, child, yes, I was planning the very same thing myself! I’ll send +one of the boys to fetch Sally, and you can throw your shawl over your +head and run down and meet your father in the orchard and speak to him +about taking us. And, mind, girl, be cautious! Not one word about the +Lady of Edengarden until we three are on the boat alone together in the +middle of the river, out of earshot of every human being except +ourselves.” + +“Oh, mother, never fear me!” said Em. as she took her shepherd’s plaid +shawl from its peg, wrapped it around her head and shoulders, wearing it +as gracefully as ever Andalusian beauty wore her fascinating “rabousa,” +and tripped out of the house on her way to the orchard. + +“Father, you are not very busy to-day?” she said interrogatively as she +came up to John Palmer, standing amid a group of busy apple-pickers. + +“Well, no, Em., not particularly. Why did you ask, my lass?” + +“Because, if you can spare the time, mother and I wish you to take us in +the row-boat down to Edengarden Island.” + +“Well, there! If I have asked your mother once to go to Edengarden I +have asked her fifty times this summer, and never could get her to go. +No, she wouldn’t trust herself on the water! But now she will go! Well, +‘sich is life.’ Of course I’ll spare the time, my dear! When do you want +to go?” + +“Now.” + +“That’s short and sweet. Now, then, run home and get ready, and I will +send word down to old ’Sias to have the boat out.” + +Em. went home as fast as she had come out, and told her mother to +prepare for the trip. + +As for Em. herself, _her_ preparations were soon made; they consisted +only in lowering her shawl to her shoulders, putting a little brown felt +hat on her head, and drawing a pair of gloves on her hands. + +Susan only waited to receive Aunt Sally and place her in charge of the +house, and then went with Em. out to join John, who, in his Sunday +clothes, was waiting for them out of doors. + +The three walked briskly down the leaf-strewn road that led to the park +gate. + +“Long time since you and I have had an outing together, Susan! And this +came so unexpectedly it has all the pleasure of a surprise as well as of +a holiday,” said John gayly, for he seemed honestly to enjoy his +“outing,” as he called it, in company with his wife and his favorite +child. + +“I’m sure, John, this time yesterday I had as much idea of going to +Europe as going to Edengarden.” + +“Well, and what put it into your head to-day, my dear?” + +“I—I changed my mind,” replied Susan evasively. + +“You did? Surely. Well, ‘sich is life.’” + +“Here we are at the gate, and it is propped open. Old ’Sias is down on +the shore with a boat, I suppose, and as for Sereny, she’d see us stand +here forever before she would take the trouble to open the gate. The +only way in which _she_ ever exerts herself is in whacking old ’Sias,” +said Susan as they passed through the gate, which John carefully locked +behind them. Then he put the key in his pocket, with the intention to +give it to old ’Sias down on the shore. + +A rapid walk through the thick woods brought them down to the banks of +the river. + +Old ’Sias was there, standing in the boat and looking out for the +expected party. + +John Palmer greeted him kindly, delivered the keys of the gate, and +cautioned him against ever leaving it open again. + +Old ’Sias remarked that “Jordan was a hard road to travel for any poor +pilgrim who had duties to perform on the one hand, and a Sereny to +perform on him on t’other.” + +But he resigned the command of the boat to John Palmer and made the best +of his way to his special post of duty. + +John helped Susan into the boat and seated her comfortably. + +Em. entered, unassisted, seated herself in her accustomed place and took +the tiller. + +John laid himself to the oars and rowed swiftly from the shore, while +Em. steered for the island. + +“What in the name o’ sense makes you hold on to that stick, Em.?” +inquired Susan, impatient of every motion she did not understand. + +“This stick, as you call it, mother, is the rein that guides our +water-horse down the river.” + +“I wish you would talk straight sometimes, Em.!” exclaimed her mother. + +The girl laughed and then explained the simple action of the tiller. + +When they had reached the middle of the river Em. said: + +“Dear father, rest on your oars for a little and let us drift slowly +down stream. We did not bring you out to-day for pleasure only, but to +tell you a secret that we feared the very leaves might hear, and the +birds repeat, if we told it on land.” + +“Eh! What! A secret! A dangerous secret!” exclaimed John, pausing in his +work and staring at his daughter. “None o’ the boys ain’t been up to +doing nothing wrong, have they?” he continued in growing anxiety. + +“No, dear father, nor the girls, neither,” said Em. + +“Whatever trouble you may have to bear in this world, John Palmer, you +may be sure of one thing—that your children will never bring it on you,” +added Susan. + +“But—what’s the matter?” inquired puzzled John. + +“Tell him, mother,” said Em. + +“Well, then, listen and never breathe it to a human being—Emolyn +Wyndeworth is found!” + +John instinctively opened his mouth to speak, but found no word to +express his astonishment. + +“But I thought she was dead and gone long, long ago,” he said at length. + +“No, she was only dead to the world, and gone far out of the ken of all +who ever knew her before,” replied Susan. + +“She is the Lady of Edengarden,” added Em. + +“Eh! What! The Lady of Edengarden! Then she must be our Lady of the +Manor as well!” exclaimed John in growing amazement. + +“She _is_, and just as soon as this Manor of the Wilderness came into +her possession through the death of her relative, old Mr. Elphine, don’t +you see, she thought of us at once? Yes, and through Dr. and Mrs. Willet +she managed to get us all out here without appearing to have anything to +do with it.” + +“Well,” said John meditatively, “I often wondered how such a thundering +great piece of good fortune ever did come to us, who wa’n’t much blessed +with rich friends! And now I know. But why should the lady wish to keep +her existence a secret?” + +“Oh, John! you are a man, or you never could have asked that question! +Do you think she could ever get over the cruel wrong that was done her, +innocent as she was? Why, even the poor wounded dove goes away and hides +itself from all eyes to die. She was wounded to the very death, and yet +she could not die, and she would not kill herself; but she went away and +hid herself—innocent as an angel though she was!” answered Susan with +emotion. + +“I’d faced it out if I’d been her!” + +“Of course you would; but you wa’n’t her! And now, John Palmer, do you +listen to me,” said Susan solemnly. “Nobody but you and me, in this +neighborhood, knows anything about the awful affliction that drove this +innocent lady into the wilderness. And we must be cautious! We must +never speak of her even to each other, unless we find ourselves in a +boat in the middle of the river, as the only place where we can be quite +sure of not being overheard.” + +“But—how on earth did you find all this out?” inquired John, scratching +his head. + +“I will tell you all about it,” said Susan. + +And she forthwith gave him a detailed account of Em.’s visit to the +isle, her unexpected meeting with the Lady of Edengarden and the ensuing +interview between them, during which the lady had revealed herself to +the girl and sent messages to the parents requesting the latter to visit +her at Edengarden. + +While Susan eagerly narrated and John earnestly listened Em. steered the +boat as it floated slowly down stream. + +“Now what do you think of that?” said Susan when she had finished her +story. + +John did not know what he thought, and so he could not tell her. + +“Why don’t you speak?” demanded Susan. + +John had nothing new to say, so he said: + +“‘Sich is life!’” + +And he took up both oars and laid himself to them with such vigor that +the boat soon cleared the intervening water and grounded on the sands at +the landing of Edengarden Island. + +“Now you two just walk up to the house. I’ll stay here with the boat +until you come back,” said John Palmer as he helped his wife and +daughter to land. + +“Now, John, I do think that is too queer of you! Why can’t you walk up +with us when the lady sent you an invitation to come, too?” exclaimed +Susan, with an injured air. + +“Now look here, dear woman, s’pose the lady did invite me along of you +and Em. It was just out of kindness and politeness to your husband and +Em.’s father, not that she cared about seeing me. And don’t you see, if +she was _ever_ so friendly to me, as she _is_, and has shown herself to +be bringing us all to the Wilderness manor-house, _still_, in this first +meeting, don’t you think she’d prefer to see you _without_ me? You’ll +have such a deal of woman’s affairs to talk about, you know!” + +“Father is right, mother,” said Em. + +“Well, then, come along,” exclaimed Susan. “And John, you had better +fasten the boat and walk up and down in the sunshine on the beach. If +you sit there you will take cold.” + +With this parting advice Susan followed her daughter, who led the way up +the narrow path leading from the landing through the belt of silver +maples, and through the ornamented grounds, and up terrace upon terrace, +until they reached the middle and highest part of the island upon which +the mansion of white stone stood. + +Susan was loud in her expressions of admiration at the beauty of the +place. + +When they reached the marble steps that led to the main entrance, Em. +passed up quickly before her mother and rang the bell. + +A colored boy about sixteen years old opened the door. + +“Is Mrs. Lynn at home?” inquired Em., after she had recovered from her +momentary surprise at the unexpected sight of a stranger. + +The page took a deliberate view of the mother, and then inquired in his +turn: + +“Name o’ Palmer?” + +“Yes, Mrs. Palmer and her daughter,” answered Em. + +“My mist’ess is at home. Walk in,” said the boy, opening wide the door. + + + + + CHAPTER XXIII + EMOLYN’S WEIRD + + +We maun a’dree our weird.—MEG MERRILES. + +They entered the beautiful white hall, with its rainbow windows, around +on which Susan Palmer stared with open-eyed admiration and wonder. + +“Mrs. Palmer!” exclaimed the page, throwing wide open a door leading +into an elegant little parlor on the right-hand side of the hall, +opposite the grand saloon. + +A lady dressed in gray rose from a sofa and advanced to meet the +visitors. + +“Oh, Miss Emolyn!” exclaimed Mrs. Palmer, so overcome with emotion at +the very sight of the lady that she sank down at once into the arm-chair +which Em. quick as thought wheeled to her side. + +Meantime Mrs. Lynn took the girl by the hand and kissed her before +turning attention to Susan. + +“Oh, Miss Emolyn! That I should live to see you again! Thank Heaven! Oh, +thank Heaven! And you are not changed so much! Oh, no, indeed!” +exclaimed Susan Palmer in almost hysterical excitement. + +“Nor are you changed much in all these years, dear old friend, or, +indeed, changed at all, except for the better! You are plumper and +rosier than you used to be, Mrs. Palmer,” said Emolyn, as she stood by +her chair, took her hand and kissed her gently. + +“It is the good living, my dear young lady. It is the pure air and fresh +water and abundant food. It is the good living that has given us all new +life, which we owe to your sweet, kind heart, Miss Emolyn!” said Susan +Palmer, weeping for joy while she covered the hands of her benefactress +with kisses. + +“It makes me so happy to see you so well and prosperous,” said the lady, +as she gently withdrew her hands from Susan’s clasps and kisses, and +seated herself in the nearest chair. + +“Em. has told me all you told her, but, oh, my dear young lady——” + +“I am not a young lady any longer, Susan,” said Emolyn, smiling sadly. +“I am thirty-two and a half years old.” + +“That don’t seem possible, to look at you, Miss Emolyn, yet it must be +so. You must be thirty-two, for you were sixteen when I saw you last, +and that was nearly seventeen years ago! La! Em. was a baby then, and +now she’s a young woman. And, Miss Emolyn, do you know we all think Em. +the very print of you, as why wouldn’t she be when for months and months +before she was born I did nothing but think of you and your troubles in +your tyrant’s house, my poor, dear young lady, and your image was never +out of my mind. But, oh, my dear child, where have you been all these +years when we thought you in heaven?” + +“Oh, Susan Palmer, it is a long story! When I left the city after +passing through that ordeal of fire and water, my guardian, dear Uncle +Lewis Berners, took me to Dranesville for a few days. Then, when Pony +came out to me, he wished to take us home with him to Virginia; but I +could not bear to go. So he took me to Europe. But lay off your bonnet +and shawl, dear old friend, for if I tell you all you wish to know, it +will be some time before I get through.” + +“I am very much obleeged to you, Miss Emolyn, but I left my old man down +in the boat, so it ain’t worth while to take off my things.” + +“Oh, why did he not come up?” + +“Well, honey, he thought we’d like to have a little talk by ourselves +first.” + +“And he was right, ma’am, wasn’t he? And, mother, don’t be troubled. +Father’ll fasten the boat and take a walk around the island, where he +will see enough to interest him for hours yet,” said Em., as she took +off her own hat and shawl and went up to Mrs. Palmer to take hers. + +“Now do you see the cool manner in which that girl takes her own way?” +said Susan, as she gave Em. her bonnet and wraps. + +“Give them to the boy in the hall, my dear; he will put them away for +you. And now, Susan Palmer, be easy until lunch time, which is not far +off, and then I will send your daughter to fetch her father, and by the +time he comes we will have got through all our confidential talk.” + +“Well, my dear young lady—for I shall call you my young lady until I see +some signs of middle age come over you—my dear young lady, have your own +way! You can do just as you please with me! And why not, seeing how +heavenly good you have been to me! I’ll stay, ma’am, and very glad to +stay, I don’t deny it,” said Susan with a sigh of satisfaction as she +sank back comfortably in the most luxurious arm-chair she had ever sat +in during her life. + +“Draw your chair near me, little namesake, so that I can hold your hand +in mine while I talk,” said Emolyn, as she turned a glance full of +tenderness on Em.’s sympathetic face. + +The young girl did as she was requested, and then, with Em.’s hand +clasped closely in hers upon her lap, Emolyn began the story of her +exile. + +“I say, after I had passed through that fiery trial my guardian took me +out of the city secretly and hid me at Dranesville, an obscure hamlet, +where I remained in my room at the quiet little hotel, unknown, until +the arrival of Pony with my trunk. Then my guardian wished to take me +home with him to Blackville. But I could not bear the thought of +remaining in my native country, or seeing any one whom I had ever known +before.” + +“I don’t wonder, my dear! I don’t wonder, indeed!” sighed Susan Palmer, +half weeping. + +“My guardian was very tolerant of my weakness—very tender of my +suffering. He had retired from the practice of law, and having no family +but his aged sisters, he found it easy to go abroad. So after a little +delay necessary to the arrangement of his affairs he took me to New York +and thence to Liverpool. We were attended only by my nurse, Pony, and +his man-servant, Prince, who, coming from Blackville, knew nothing of +the ordeal through which I had just passed.” + +Here Emolyn’s glance falling on the upturned face of Em., she said: + +“You are looking at me with eyes full of wonder and pity, my child! +Well, let it be so for awhile. You are too young even to _hear_ the +horrors through which I _had to pass_ when I was younger than you are +now. Yet I feel sure, Em., that some day I shall tell you all.” + +A convulsive clasp of her hand by the girl’s fingers was her only +answer. + +The lady resumed her story. + +“It was near the last of July when we landed in Liverpool. It was +perhaps the very best season in which to see England. Better even than +the spring, for midsummer is never intolerably hot and dry there as it +is here. Well, we spent two months in traveling through England, Wales, +Scotland and Ireland. In the latter part of September we went to France, +where we also spent two months in traveling. We did not stop in the +cities nor enter any society. Early in December we went to Italy, spent +six weeks in traveling through that loveliest of lands, and then we +settled down in Rome for the winter.” + +“Oh! Oh! And did you see the Pope? And does he really wear three crowns +on his head, one upon top of the other?” eagerly interrupted Susan +Palmer. + +“I did not see the Pope. We never tried to see anybody. But I saw the +Vatican—the palace where he lives, and I also saw many grand cathedrals +and palaces.” + +Here again Susan Palmer interrupted the narrator with a number of +questions that compelled Emolyn to describe the Vatican, the other +palaces, cathedrals and churches at some length. + +“In the spring, just before Lent, we saw the carnival in Rome.” + +“Yes! I have heard mention made about that. It is something like a +circus and a panorama and a procession, isn’t it?” inquired Susan. + +“Like all of them together, with a great many other spectacles, all on a +tremendous scale.” + +“Oh, please tell me all about it,” exclaimed Susan. + +So Mrs. Lynn had to recall and describe all the grotesque and gorgeous +phantasmagoria of the carnival at Rome before her hearer could be +satisfied. + +“Dear, dear me, what it is to be a traveler!” said Susan. + +“As the month of May approached I became very nervous and filled with a +horrible despair that threatened my reason. You know it was the +anniversary of my great agony, Mrs. Palmer. Why, even after all these +years I cannot pass it calmly. And _that_ was the first anniversary.” + +“I know, and I do not wonder at anything, my dear child, except that you +were ever able to live over it at all.” + +“My guardian was very good to me; may Heaven bless him! He took me to +Venice, the most beautiful and wonderful city in the world, where there +are canals instead of streets and gondolas instead of carriages.” + +“Lord bless my soul, Miss Emolyn, how was that?” cried Susan. + +Emolyn explained as briefly as she could the building of Venice upon its +cluster of small islands, and then continued: + +“We left Italy about the first of June. We spent the summer in traveling +through Russia, Germany, Sweden, Norway and the Shetland and Orkney +Islands. On the first of September we took a steamer from Glasgow to +Constantinople——” + +“Constantinople!” eagerly interrupted Susan. “Constantinople! Oh, my +goodness gracious me alive! That’s better than the city of the Pope, or +the city built on the sea, either! It is the city of the Grand Turk! Did +you see the Grand Turk? And does he always sit cross-legged on a +gold-fringed rug, with a long shawl rolled around his head for a turban, +and smoking a long pipe, with a golden bowl and a room full of beautiful +girls dancing before him? And has he really a thousand wives?” + +“I don’t know. I did not see him, but I think it quite likely,” said +Emolyn, with a slight smile. + +“Think of _that_ now! The pagan Turk to have a thousand wives, more or +less, and the Pope—the poor Pope—to have not one. The laws ought to be +changed! But tell me what you did see in the city of the Grand Turk. +Though it do seem to me, my dear, that in all your travels you saw +nothing but places and things, not people.” + +“I did not want to see people,” sighed Emolyn. + +“Ah, I know. How thoughtless I am. Go on, my dear young lady.” + +Emolyn described Constantinople, with its splendid seraglio, its +magnificent mosques, its squalid streets and mean dwellings. + +“Seems to me there’s as much dif’rence between the rich and the poor in +pagan cities as there be in Christian towns.” + +“Just as much,” said Emolyn with a sigh; and then she continued—“From +Turkey we went to Greece and to the Ionian Islands, where we spent the +second winter of our travels. In the spring we returned to the United +States because I had come of age and it was necessary for certain legal +forms to be observed by my guardian in turning over my estates to me. We +reached New York about the middle of May, and went down to Wynde Slopes +in Maryland. But, oh, my dear friend, I was scarcely put in possession +of my property before I lost my beloved guardian and last remaining +friend. He passed away at Wynde Slopes after a short and painless +illness, and it is my comfort to think he entered at once into his +eternal rest. You know, by the terms of my father’s will, I was to be +considered of age at eighteen. I was but a few weeks over that age when +my dear guardian left me.” + +“Oh, Miss Emolyn! He was a good man. I heard from Pony of all his +devotion to you while you were in your trouble. Do go on, Miss Emolyn, +and excuse my interrupting of you.” + +“Well, my dear Susan, what I have to tell you now cannot be dwelt upon +in detail. I sold Wynde Slopes, for I could not bear that my name, all +blurred as it was with falsehood and wrong, should remain connected with +my father’s old ancestral home.” + +“But however came you to find out about this beautiful island, honey?” + +Emolyn smiled. + +“It was not a beautiful island when I found it, Susan; but the way was +this: In my restlessness I was a rambler. I had besides a feeling of +affectionate curiosity to see the old Wilderness manor-house, in which +my mother had been born and been brought up. I came to Greyrock, +accompanied by Pony, and rode over to the Wilderness. I saw the house. +It had long been vacant, the master being then in Europe. I did not +divulge my name to the old servants, nor my relationship to their +master; yet, with the courtesy they always show to strangers, they took +me all over the premises, showed me all I wished to see, told me all I +wished to hear. I returned to Greyrock that night. I had intended to +leave the place early the next morning; but both in going to and coming +from the Wilderness I had taken the river road, and seen from its banks +the desolate, rocky island. It took my fancy and haunted me even after I +had gone home to Greyrock and gone to bed.” + +“And so you thought you would like to make that desert bloom and blossom +as the rose, Miss Emolyn?” + +“Yes, Susan; and I thought I would like to make a home there, where I +and Pony could come and rest sometimes, ‘the world forgetting, by the +world forgot.’ In a word, before I left the neighborhood I had purchased +the barren island for a mere trifle, but all that it was worth at the +time. It would never have paid as a plantation, Susan; but it was well +adapted to the metamorphosis I made of it, by the three potent +genii—Labor, Time and Money. Fifteen years ago it was a barren rock. You +see what it is now.” + +“It is a paradise now,” said Susan with enthusiasm. + +“Yet a paradise that could not hold my restless spirit long. After +spending one year here I left it in careful hands and resumed my +travels, this second time accompanied only by Pony and such stranger +guides and couriers as I could pick up _en route_.” + +Emolyn here paused so long that Susan Palmer inquired: + +“And where did you go, Miss Emolyn? Seems to me as you had seen all the +world before.” + +“Not a hundredth part of it, Susan. But I did not go over the same +ground. I sailed for Glasgow and then, without even landing, took ship +for Christiana, Norway, and traveled over the extreme northern part of +Europe, dwelling in the huts of the Lapps and Finns and making reindeer +journeys from place to place. I saw the midnight sun.” + +“THE MIDNIGHT SUN, MISS EMOLYN!” exclaimed Susan in open-mouthed +amazement. + +“Yes, Susan—it is a sublime and wonderful sight in those regions of +eternal snow.” + +“Oome, I feared the poor lady was just a little demented, and now I know +it,” thought Susan mournfully. + +“I passed through Russia and into Siberia, a voluntary exile. I spent a +long summer on those savage steppes——” + +“Steps!” muttered Susan to herself with a sigh. + +“And then I moved southward without stopping until we reached +Alexandria, in Egypt.” + +“‘Alexandria, in Egypt!’ Ah, dear, dear, how her mind wanders. Everybody +knows Alexandria is in old Virginy,” moaned Susan to herself. + +“I am fatiguing you,” said Mrs. Lynn, perceiving her companion’s +uneasiness. “I must be brief, Susan, and tell you in a few words that +since that time, with the exception of an occasional summer of rest on +the island here, I have spent all my days in travel. I have been all +over the civilized and uncivilized world. I have been where few men and +no women have ever gone before me—from Greenland to Terra del Fuego; +from Behring Straits to Bermuda Isles on this hemisphere; from Cape +North to Cape Colony, and from the coast of Guinea to the Sea of +Kamtschatka on the other.” + +“What a life!” exclaimed Susan with a great sigh. “But of all the +countries and the people that you saw, which did you like the best, Miss +Emolyn?” + +“You will be surprised when you hear—I liked best to dwell among the +Lapps and Finns!” + +Susan was not surprised, for she had got so “mixed in her mind,” as she +said, that she really did not know but that the Lapps and Finns were the +most enlightened of European people instead of being northern +barbarians. + +“I have been to this island more regularly to spend the summers for the +last few years until this year, when business connected with my +inheritance of the Wilderness Manor detained me elsewhere until the +first of October.” + +“And to think, Miss Emolyn, that the very first thing you did after +entering upon that inheritance was to think of us in our poverty, that +poor, squalid Laundry Lane, and to bring us to this beautiful, wholesome +country,” said Susan Palmer gratefully. + +“It is true that my very first thought _was_ of you,” admitted Emolyn. + +At that moment a distant clock chimed out musically the hour of noon. + +“Now, my little namesake, go find your father and bring him to the house +to lunch with us,” said the lady. + +Em. immediately arose and left the room to do this errand. She went into +the hall, where she found her hat and shawl hung on an artistic tree +carved out of malachite. She put them on hastily, and ran out to seek +her father, whom she expected to find near the boat-landing. + +Meantime the two women, left alone together, looked into each other’s +faces as if each expected a confidence from the other. + +Susan was the first to speak. + +“Now, Miss Emolyn, that she is gone and we are by ourselves, tell me why +you have never been able to get over your trouble during all these long +years?” + +Emolyn shuddered and covered her eyes with her hands. + +“Oh, I have hurt you, Miss Emolyn. I am so sorry. I beg you to forgive +me. I ought not to have asked you a question. But, dear Miss Emolyn, +still you ought not to take that old sorrow so much to heart, innocent +as I know you to be.” + +“Oh, Susan, Susan! No one could ever entirely recover from such a +blasting affliction as mine was!” cried the unhappy lady. + +“Not even when you know you was innocent, Miss Emolyn?” + +“No—not even then! But, Susan, there is the horror of it. I do not know +that I am innocent!” exclaimed Emolyn, with a low moan of anguish. + +“Oh, my dear young lady, what_ever_ do you mean?” + +“Oh, Susan, Susan! After all I may have—_hurt my child_!” + +“Oh, Miss Emolyn, you never, never did! I would stake _my soul_ that you +never did. (This is an awful symptom of derangement.) You never did, +Miss Emolyn. You have thought about it so much that you have got +heartsick and brainsick, and ready to accuse yourself. Don’t think about +it any more, Miss Emolyn. You were right to travel, after all. Oh, pray +don’t let your thoughts dwell upon it any longer, Miss Emolyn. Put it +out of your mind!” + +“But, Susan, I cannot. It is a haunting horror. I could—I think I could +get over even the diabolical memory of my trial if only I were quite +sure I never harmed my child. But oh, Susan—on that awful night when she +was born there were hours of agony, followed by hours of +unconsciousness! There may have been between the agony and the +unconsciousness moments of delirium in which I might have harmed my +innocent, helpless child! I do not remember. But then, you know, Susan, +that people recovering from delirium never know or recollect what passed +during the fit. _I might have killed my own child!_ Oh, Heaven! Oh, +Heaven! What a haunting horror that thought is to all my days and +nights!” moaned the miserable woman, swaying herself back and forth and +covering her face with her hands. + +“Miss Emolyn, my child, be comforted! You are clear of that sin! As sure +as I am a living woman you have only brooded and brooded over this until +you have got almost insane! Now think of this, Miss Emolyn! When you +were first accused your mind was clear enough on the subject. You knew +then that you had never hurt your child, and you affirmed it most +positive and distinct to every one; and everybody believed you, too! Now +this crazy notion of yours has only come of brooding over it.” + +“Oh, Susan, is that possible?” + +“Why, yes, ma’am! I have heard of such cases often and often! You aught +to speak to a physician, Miss Emolyn. Here’s Dr. Willet quite +convenient. Did you know he was in the neighborhood, Miss Emolyn?” + +“Yes, I knew he was there. He has been to see me on this island.” + +“Well, then, honey, speak to him.” + +“Perhaps. But, oh, Susan, who can ‘minister to a mind diseased?’ And, +Susan,” she continued, sinking her voice to a whisper, “if _I_ did not +harm my child, _who did_? The child was strangled, Susan! _Who did it?_” + +“Ah, dear knows, Miss Emolyn, honey!” sighed the woman. “You must pray!” + +“I ‘must pray.’ Perhaps some late remorse—some deathbed confession—may +bring out the truth and give me peace!” + + + + + CHAPTER XXIV + A GOOD FAIRY + + A smile of hers is like an act of grace; + For when she smiles, a light is on her face, + A clear, cool kindliness, a lunar beam + Of peaceful radiance, silvering o’er the stream + Of human thought with an abiding glory, + Not quite a waking truth, nor quite a dream— + A visitation bright and transitory. + H. COLERIDGE. + + +The conversation between the Lady of Edengarden and her visitor +continued until the return of Em., conducting her father. + +“This is my husband, madam. John, this is our Lady of the Manor,” said +Susan Palmer, presenting the new arrival to her hostess. + +“I am very glad to see you, Mr. Palmer. I remember you quite well. You +are not at all changed, except for the better. You are stouter +and—taller, I almost think,” said Emolyn, holding out her hand. + +“I am stronger, madam, and more erect, thanks to the mountain air and +your bounty,” said John, as he respectfully received and bowed over the +little hand held out to him. + +Em. placed a chair for her father, and as he sat down upon it she took +his hat from his hands and carried it out to the tree in the hall. + +At the same moment Emolyn touched a bell that brought her page to her +presence. + +“Order luncheon to be served at once,” she said. + +The young Mercury flew on his errand. + +Emolyn filled up the short interval by talking to her visitor about the +old Wilderness manor-house and its historical associations. + +And then the boy returned and announced the repast in readiness. + +“Come, friends,” said Emolyn, drawing the arm of her young namesake +within her own and leading the way, followed by John and Susan. + +The lady conducted her guests through a suite of sumptuous rooms, each +succeeding one seeming more splendid than the other, until at length +they reached a small but elegant dining-room, in the midst of which +stood the lunch-table, laid for four, covered with the finest white +damask, furnished with Sèvres china, Bohemian glass and silver, and +provided with substantial fare, as well as with delicate viands. + +The lady of the house made Em. sit on her right hand, on one side of the +oval table, while John and Susan sat opposite on the other side. + +The young page waited on the party. + +The unaffected kindness and simplicity of Emolyn’s manner put her +visitors quite at their ease, so that perhaps never was a repast more +enjoyed than was this lunch by John and Susan. + +As for Em., girl-like, she keenly appreciated dainty items in the +feast—the potted meats and fish, the West India preserves and fruits and +the French confections and chocolate. + +When the collation was over Emolyn led her friends back to the parlor, +and calling her little page to her, said: + +“I want you to tell Pony to come here and see an old acquaintance.” + +The boy left the room, and the party in the parlor had scarcely settled +into their seats when the door opened and a tall, stout, handsome +mulatto woman, becomingly dressed in a scarlet French calico, with a +black silk apron, white collar and cuffs, white turban and large gold +hoop earrings, entered. + +“Why, Pony! Oh, Pony, I am _so_ delighted to see you!” gushed Susan, +starting up and holding out her hand to the newcomer. + +“So is I, you, Mrs. Palmer! ’Pon my word, how well you does look, to be +sure!” exclaimed the woman, heartily shaking the offered hand. + +“Is that young gal your darter?” she then inquired, turning her bright +black eyes on the girl. + +“Yes—that’s Em.! named after your mistress, Pony. Come here, Em. and get +acquainted with the best friend I ever had in the world except Miss +Wyndeworth,” continued Susan, beckoning to her daughter. + +Em. came up and offered her hand, saying: + +“I have heard about you all my life, Aunt Melpomene, and you look just +as I supposed you would. I never did hope to have the pleasure of seeing +you face to face; but, oh, I am so glad to meet you now!” + +“So am I you, miss. But, law—did anybody _ever_ see such a likeness in +this world?” exclaimed, the woman, almost staring the girl out of +countenance. + +“As between this lady and myself?” she replied, with a blush and smile +of embarrassment. “Oh, yes, I have heard it commented upon by so many +people—all, I think, whoever chanced to see us both.” + +“Yes,” added Susan, laughing, “and I have expounded and explained how it +was until I am tired. Why, Pony, woman, why shouldn’t my child be the +very image of your young mistress when I had her face in my mind for +months before this child arrived.” + +“Well, it’s made her mighty pretty, and that’s the solemn truth,” said +the woman gravely. “But I’ll tell you what, Miss Em., beauty is a great +snare to the young, and unless it is supported by Christian grace, my +honey, it is likely to fetch more misery than happiness.” + +“‘Sich is life,’” said John sententiously. + +“Oh, I declare I forgot—Pony, you remember my husband, don’t you?” + +“Who—Mr. Palmer? Why, to be sure I do! I hope I find you well, sir! But +my, how stout and portable you have got to be, sir!” exclaimed Pony, +turning her attention now to the overseer. + +“I am sure I can return the compliment,” said John, laughing. + +“Well, you see, sir, we colored female women folks, when we keeps in +good health, and is in peace with the Lord and the neighbor, is most in +general ’clined to wax fat as we grow old,” replied Pony, showing all +her teeth. + +“‘Sich is life,’” said John solemnly. + +“Indeed, and that is very true, sir, if we could only live up to it,” +remarked Pony. + +“_You_ have seen a great deal of the world since _I_ saw _you_, Pony,” +put in Susan. + +“I b’lieve you, ma’am! Me and my mist’ess ’mind me more of ole Satan in +Job than anything else in de world—a ‘walking up and down in the earth +and going to and fro in it.’ Yes, ma’am, me and mist’ess has been all +over the universe, from Dansheba to de Debbil’s Icy Peek!” + +“She means that I have been the tormenting Satan and she has been the +patient Job,” explained Mrs. Lynn with a smile, adding: “Now, Pony, we +will detain you no longer from your lunch.” + +The woman took a laughing leave of her old friends and left the room. + +Then Emolyn turned to Mr. and Mrs. Palmer, and addressing both, said: + +“Now, my dear old friends, I wish to make a proposal to you that I +earnestly hope may meet your views. I have a pleasant home here—very +pleasant and healthy at all seasons of the year—but I am very lonely. I +want a young and agreeable companion to share my solitude, and for such +a one I should try to provide a happy home and instructive and +profitable occupation and amusement. Your sweet girl here suits me +precisely. If only I can make myself and home as attractive to her as +she is to me, and if I can gain your approval, I wish to receive my +young namesake in my house, on the footing of a daughter, a younger +sister, pupil, companion—anything you wish, and on any terms you may +please to suggest.” + +“You know, my dear Miss Emolyn, as far as I am concerned, you are +heartily welcome to Em.’s company on your own terms. It is not for us to +dictate to you,” said Susan Palmer cordially. + +Emolyn, smiling, replied: + +“You shall never have cause to regret the confidence you repose in me, +Mrs. Palmer.” + +“Oh, I know that, Miss Emolyn. I know that.” + +John Palmer as yet had said nothing. + +Em., watching her father, felt a growing uneasiness. + +Emolyn came to the rescue by turning and inquiring of the silent man: + +“What do _you_ think, Mr. Palmer?” + +“I think, my dear lady, that we are all of us under very deep +obligations to you; more, indeed, than we can ever hope to repay. As to +our girl, I feel that you wish to take her quite as much for her own +sake as for yours. But, madam, this is sudden, and under your favor, I +think we all of us—your honored self as well as the rest—had better take +a day or two to reflect before deciding,” replied John. + +“Very well. How long will you want to reflect on this, Mr. Palmer?” +inquired Emolyn. + +(“Oh, the old aggravating, cud-chewing cow! He’ll diddle Em. out of her +good fortune yet with his reflection,” thought Susan Palmer to herself, +feeling more impatience at her patient husband than she had ever felt +before.) + +John thought a moment before answering the lady’s question, and then +lifting his head, he inquired: + +“Will to-morrow evening suit you, madam, to receive our decision?” + +“Thanks, yes, quite well, and I trust it will be a favorable one.” + +“I hope, my dear lady, that you know we are all very sensible of your +great kindness to us,” said John, rising from his seat. + +“Oh, say no more about that, my good friend,” replied Emolyn. + +“I thank you, madam. We will think the more then if we speak the less. +And now, my dear lady, we must say good-by, and be getting back to the +manor-house,” said John respectfully. + +“Must you, indeed? I had hoped to detain you all day. I do not like to +part with this dear child, who, I feel sure, reciprocates my affection,” +said Emolyn warmly. + +Em., who was sitting by her side, impulsively raised the lady’s hand and +pressed it warmly to her lips as in confirmation of the words. + +“Oh, why can you not stay till evening? There is no moon, to be sure, +but then the clear starlight nights are very brilliant, and the river is +as smooth as a mirror,” pleaded Emolyn, with more earnestness than the +occasion seemed to warrant, as she clasped and held Em.’s hand. + +“Well, you see, ma’am, we left a very sick woman in our house, Ann +Whitlock, who has been with us so long that she seems like a relation,” +Susan explained. + +“Ann Whitlock?” inquired Emolyn musingly. + +“Why, my dear young lady, she was the sick-nurse that was with your +uncle in his latter days, you know.” + +“Yes, to be sure!” said Emolyn thoughtfully. + +“And after that she was nurse in the same hospital where I was a +patient. And she saved little Em.’s life, as I explained to you once, +ma’am.” + +“Oh, yes, I remember,” sighed Emolyn. + +“And since then me and John have felt she had a claim on us, and we have +taken care of her in her old days.” + +“That was very sweet of you, Susan Palmer! And she is sick now, you +say?” + +“Yes, ma’am, very much so. She had a paralytic stroke yesterday while +Em. was here. To be sure, she has rallied a little, and the doctor +thinks there’s no present danger of death. Still, nobody can tell. So +you see, ma’am, we must not leave her all day.” + +“I see,” said the lady thoughtfully. And she touched the bell that +brought her young page to her presence. + +She gave him an order in a low voice, and he left the room. + +“Em., get our things,” said Susan Palmer. + +The girl went and brought them. + +While Em. and her mother were putting on their shawls and hats the page +returned, bringing a hamper of wine, which he set down on the carpet +before his mistress. + +“Susan Palmer,” said the lady, “when my uncle was paralyzed the doctor +ordered him to drink champagne as freely as water. You know it kept him +alive for many months, if it could not cure him. Take this to your +invalid and give it to her freely. When it is nearly gone let me know +and I will send another hamper.” + +“Oh, Miss Emolyn, how thankful I am! And how grateful poor Ann Whitlock +will be! Heaven bless you, my dear! How like you this is!” exclaimed +Susan fervently. + +“The boy will take it down to the boat for you.” + +“Much obliged, my dear lady, but I am a deal better able to carry it +than the boy, and with your good leave I will do it,” said John. + +“As you please, Mr. Palmer.” + +“Good-by, my dear Miss Emolyn. May you be very happy for all the rest of +your life! Oh, for years and years after we lost sight of you my prayers +went up day and night that I might see you once more before I died until +at last we all gave you up for dead; then I stopped praying for you. But +now, Miss Emolyn, that I have the joy of seeing you again, I shall pray +day and night to the Lord to bless you and to make you happy!” + +“Yes. Pray for me, dear good woman. Oh, how I need your prayers!” + +“Good-by, dear lady. I feel that you will be happy some of these days. +Unhappiness cannot last forever in any one experience. There must be +change. ‘Sich is life,’” said John, as he shook hands with his gracious +hostess. + +Em. approached also to take leave; but the lady drew the girl to her +bosom and kissed her fondly, saying: + +“You must persuade your parents to let you come to me, my darling. +Strange how near you feel to me; but perhaps that is my own egotism +because you bear my name and some striking resemblance to me.” + +“I shall be sure to come back to you, dear lady. I never broke a promise +in my life, and I promise to come back to you,” whispered Em. + +“I shall rest on that promise. Now go; your parents are waiting for +you,” said Emolyn, as she pressed a kiss upon the girl’s brow and so +dismissed her. + +Em. followed her father and mother as they left the house, John carrying +the hamper of wine. + +“I don’t see why you could not have given Miss Emolyn her answer about +Em. at once. You needn’t have put on airs with that lady, John, talking +about taking time for reflection and all that—when you know very well +that you intend to let her go,” said Susan, as the three walked rapidly +toward the boat. + +“Indeed, then, Susan, I am not sure that I shall let her go at all!” +said John very gravely. + +“_Oh, father!_” exclaimed Em. in a voice of despair. + +“I think is most likely I shall do so, though, my dear. So don’t be +troubled. I think I shall let you go; but there is nothing certain in +this world; and I must have some conversation with your mother first.” + +They walked so rapidly that they soon reached the landing. + +John Palmer hastened to place his wife and daughter in their seats and +then to unmoor the boat and push it from the shore. + +Em. took the tiller and steered for the Wilderness landing. + +John laid himself vigorously to both oars, and they sped swiftly on +their way home. + +Susan talked incessantly on the way up the river, and the burden of her +conversation was “Miss Emolyn Wyndeworth” and her strange and tragic +story. + +“The people about here call her Mrs. Lynn! That’s _their_ mistake, not +Miss Emolyn’s doings. But I always _did_ call her Miss Emolyn, and I +suppose I shall to the end of my days,” she said, among countless other +observations. + +John said but little in response and Em. nothing. She was absorbed in +her own reflections. + +The sun was low when they reached the Wilderness landing. + +“It has taken us the whole day, after all; but Lord knows, we needn’t +regret it, after what we have seen,” said John Palmer, as he drew in his +oars, laid one down in the bottom of the boat, and using the other as a +pole, pushed it up on the sands. + +“No, indeed, we needn’t regret our visit if only we find our poor, old, +sick woman hasn’t suffered through our going,” added Susan, as she +climbed upon the shore, followed by Em. + +Leaving the father to secure the boat, the mother and daughter walked +rapidly up the weed-grown, leaf-strewn path that led through the autumn +woods to the park gate. + +Here they were met by old ’Sias, whom they found standing, leaning over +the bars, talking to his sister Sally. + +“Dr. Willy waitin’ for you up to de house, honey, and I jes’ run down +here to de gate to see if you was coming,” said Sally, while ’Sias +opened the gate to admit them. + +“Dr. Willet here again! Is Ann Whitlock worse?” inquired Susan in alarm, +as she entered the park. + +“Laws, no, honey; it is only his goodness to come ag’in. He’s a nice, +quiet ge’man, honey, as ever I see in my life. I warrant you now he +never does nuffin to nobody,” said Sally. + +“And jes’ as ’tentive to ole Miss Whitlock’s if she was a p’incess in +her own palace, ’stead o’ being of a poor ’pendent hanging on to you. I +’clare I never see nuffin like it in all de days of my life, and dat’s a +hundred and fifty years, more or less, honey, more or less,” solemnly +exclaimed the old gatekeeper. + +“Now go away from here, Jose_phi_as Elphine! Hundred and fifty years, +indeed! We is twin sisters, you and me; and I know I ain’t no hundred +and fifty year old, neither more _nor_ less, I tell you all good,” +indignantly protested Sally. + +“Come, mother, let us go on to the house,” said Em., anxious to see her +patient. + +“Don’t run away, honey,” exclaimed Sally, mistaking the young girl’s +motives. “Don’t be feared of me. I don’t mean no harm. I never does +nuffin to nobody, honey, only I _must_ chas_tise_ ’Sias for his braggin’ +lies.” + +“Come along with us, Aunt Sally, I want you,” said Susan, as she +followed Em., who was walking rapidly up the grass-grown drive toward +the house. + +The three were soon overtaken by the long strides of John Palmer, who +came up with the hamper of champagne on his shoulder. + +At the house-door they were met by Dr. Willet, who cordially shook hands +with John and Susan and patted Em. on the head in a fatherly fashion. + +“I think the old woman is doing very well under the circumstances,” he +said in answer to Susan’s inquiry. + +Then Mrs. Palmer spoke of the timely present of wine, made by the Lady +of Edengarden, and asked the doctor if it might be freely given to the +patient. + +“Indeed, yes, it is what I should have ordered if I had dreamed of its +being attainable here,” he replied. + +And then, resisting all kind invitations to re-enter the house, he +mounted his horse, that stood waiting, bowed adieux and rode away. + +John carried his hamper of wine into the kitchen, followed by Susan and +Em. + +He put it down on the floor, opened it and drew out a bottle. + +“Here, Susan,” he said, “take this right up to the old woman and give +her a drink at once.” + +“Come, Em.,” said the good mother, hurrying from the room. + +They found Mrs. Whitlock conscious, though unable to speak. + +They gave her a large goblet full of the sparkling wine, Em. holding her +up while Susan placed the glass at her lips. + +Then they proceeded to arrange her bed and room and to mend the fire, +and make all comfortable. + +It was not until all the family had retired to bed, with the exception +of the parents, that John and Susan discussed the subject of Em.’s +removal to Edengarden. + +“Now you have a chance, John, I want you to tell me why you stood +shilly-shallying and hem-hawing about letting Em. go to that lady?” said +Susan, as they drew their chairs in to the fire. + +“Well, you see, Susan, I like that lady, and pity her, and thank her, +all in one; and I would do a great deal for her—anything for her, but +send our daughter to live with her unless—unless—Susan—well, unless you +can insure me that she was as innocent as our girl herself of all the +wrong-doing——” + +Poor John had meant to put his question as delicately, as mildly and as +gently as he could possibly do; yet Susan flew at him before he could +complete his sentence. + +“John Palmer, what _do_ you mean? Have you clean taken leave of your +senses? But men are _such_ fools! Innocent? Miss Emolyn innocent? Oh, +there is not a single speck on her soul’s white garments, man!” + +“Now don’t get excited, Susan, my dear. If you feel sure she was +innocent, then we will let her have our girl. That was all I wanted to +know,” said John deprecatingly. + +“I know that she is as pure as an angel! I would stake my salvation on +her purity! And besides, John Palmer, didn’t you hear me yourself say, +over and over again, how anxious I was to have Em. go? _Yes, you did._ +And now do you dare to suppose that I, her mother, would be less careful +of my daughter than you, who are nothing but just her father? I _am_ +astonished at you, John Palmer! But, as I said before, men _are_ such +fools we can hardly hold ’em to ’count for what they say and do, so +women must be patient with ’em,” said Susan, rising to cover up the +fire. + +“Nobody but my wife never called me a fool; but ‘sich is life,’” sighed +John Palmer, as he relieved Susan of the shovel and covered up the fire +himself. + + + + + CHAPTER XXV + EM.’S NEW HOME + + Oh, brightly is bedeck’d your bower, and gorgeously your halls; + Here treads the foot on springing buds, and there on velvet falls: + The massive curtains’ graceful flow, the vase, the painting warm; + Those household echoes, mirrors bright, revealing the fair form; + Exotics that perfume the air with odors sweet and strange, + And shells that far in foreign climes mid ocean wonders range, + With countless gifts of taste and art, in classic beauty rife, + Are laid upon your household shrine, and grace your daily life. + GILMAN. + + +Tired as she was with her unusual exertions, before she slept that night +Susan Palmer ran up the attic stairs to her daughter’s chamber to +communicate the good news that was to make Em. so happy. + +The door was closed, but not locked, so she opened it and walked in. + +She found that Em. had gone to bed but not to sleep. She immediately sat +down beside the bed, and in answer to the girl’s eager, questioning +eyes, she said: + +“Yes, my dear, your father has given his consent for you to go.” + +Em. started and threw her arms around her mother’s neck, exclaiming: + +“Oh, how glad I am! It was you, dear, I know it was, who got him to +consent at last. But oh, dear mother, you will not think I love you any +the less because I want to go to that desolate Lady of Edengarden, +_will_ you, mother dear?” + +“Nonsense, girl, of course not! You’ll love us as much, and even more, +when you get away from us than you do now. Why, law! when I was younger +than you are now I was crazy to go out to service; and when I did, I +found that I loved my home and my mother better than I had ever done +before. I sha’n’t be jealous, Em.,” laughed Susan. + +“I don’t know why I should want to go, either; but that dear lady is so +lonely, so desolate, my heart goes out to her, mother. Think of it, she +has no family circle, no visitors, no society, no one but her colored +servants!” + +“It is her own choice, Em.; yet I do wonder at the shyness that makes +her keep herself unknown even to old Commodore Bruce, who used to know +her when she was a child, and who was just as fond of her as if she had +been his own. I do wonder at that!” + +“Mother dear,” exclaimed Em. suddenly, “don’t you remember she said Dr. +Willet had been to see her?” + +“Oh, yes. Dr. Willet was one of her oldest and best friends, and stood +by her manfully in her worst troubles. But for a long time after she +disappeared not even _he_ knew what had become of her; however, I dare +say she notified him afterward, although he never said anything about +it, being bound over to secrecy, most likely.” + +“Well, but, mother dear, Dr. Willet is staying at Commodore Bruce’s, and +don’t you think he will tell the old commodore, who has so long mourned +Emolyn as dead, that she is really alive and within his reach?” + +“Oh, no, no, Dr. Willet will never do so without the lady’s +consent—never!” + +“Oh, what a pity it is that she so secludes herself from all who would +love her!” + +“Yes, it is, Em., a crying pity. If you should get any influence over +her, Em., you must try to coax her out of all that.” + +“Oh, I will, I will, dear mother. I will do all in my little power for +that lady. It is so strange, but she feels inexpressibly near and dear +to me,” said the girl tenderly. + +“I am glad to hear you say so, Em. And now, my dear, as you sat up all +last night with Mrs. Whitlock, you must really go to sleep. Good-night, +and God bless you, my dear,” said Susan Palmer, as she kissed her +daughter and left the room. + +The next morning, true to his promise, John Palmer authorized Em. to +write a note of acceptance to the Lady of Edengarden, and to send it by +the old gatekeeper in his boat. + +Em. joyfully obeyed, and penned the grateful missive, inquiring at its +close when the lady would like that she should come. + +Old ’Sias took charge of the note and started to deliver it. + +But the old man was feeble and slow at the oars, so that he took nearly +the whole day to do his errand, and the family had finished supper, +cleared up the kitchen and gathered around the blazing wood fire, +occupied with their evening work—the women and girls knitting and +sewing, the men and boys mending harness and carving out wooden +bolts—when ’Sias walked in, bringing a letter, which he handed to Em. + +“Did you see the lady?” she eagerly inquired as she opened the note. + +“No, honey, I didn’t see nobody but a mons’ous handsome, bright ’latto +’oman. Handsome as a queen, honey—de Queen o’ Sheba in all her +glory—which she tell me, honey, as her name was Mellow Ponies. ’Deed, if +I had cotch my eye on _her_ ’fore I ebber seed Sereny——But ’tain’t no +use talking ’bout dat now. On’y if the ’Vine Marster _was_ to ’flict me +wid de loss ob Sereny——But all dat’s wanity and wexation of de +sperrits,” concluded the old man with a sigh. + +Meanwhile Em. read her note, which she presently passed to her mother, +saying: + +“She wants me to come on Thursday, mother, and this is Tuesday evening, +you know.” + +“Well, my girl, that will give you a day to get ready, and I will help +you,” answered Susan. Then quickly turning to the old gatekeeper, said: + +“’Sias, stop! I want to send a message by you. Tell your wife Sereny +that if she will come and sit up with our sick woman to-night she shall +be paid well for it.” + +“Berry well, ma’am, sartin. And dat will be a great deliverance for me +of one night, anyhow!” exclaimed the old man as he retreated. + +The following day was spent by the mother and all her daughters in +looking over, doing up and packing Em.’s simple wardrobe, ready for use +in her new home. + +That night, being the last one previous to her departure, Em. sat up +with Ann Whitlock until near day, when she was relieved by Monica. + +It was a glorious autumn day, near the last of October, when Em. took +leave of her mother and sisters to set out for her new home. + +“Now you know, dear mother, the lady said in her note that she hoped you +would come and spend a day with us just as often as you could, the +oftener the better,” said the girl, lovingly lingering over her +leavetaking. + +“Yes, Em.,” replied Susan. + +“Also she said that whenever I should feel the least homesick, I should +come to you for a few days.” + +“Yes, Em.” + +“And whenever you might feel like wanting me at home you were to send +for me and I should come.” + +“Yes, Em.” + +“Then you won’t feel lonesome for me, mother dear?” + +“No, you goose! There, don’t worry about me! You didn’t make half so +much fuss about leaving home when you went to The Breezes, though that +was the very first time you ever left us! There! God bless you, my good +child, good-by. I shall come to hear the blind preacher of the island +Sunday, and then I shall see you and your sweet lady, too,” said Susan, +pressing her daughter to her heart in a final embrace. + +Em. turned away, and, escorted by her father, walked quickly down the +leaf-strewn road leading through the park. + +It was true! Em. felt more disturbed at leaving home now on this second +time than she had done on the first—even though now she was going to +live with one to whom her affections were strangely and strongly +attracted. It may have been that in the depths of her spirit she had +unacknowledged previsions that this was a final departure from her home, +that never again would she re-enter her father’s house except as a +visitor. + +John walked on silently for a while, but just before they got to the +park gate, where old ’Sias stood in attendance, he said: + +“Em., my child, don’t forget us in your fine new home.” + +“Oh, dear, dear, good, best father, never, never, never! How could you +think I would? No, I will write to you twice a week, at least, and send +the letter by a special messenger, for I feel that my lady will indulge +me in that!” + +“No, Em., don’t you do it! Don’t give so much extra trouble in a strange +house. I am satisfied with what you say, my girl. I know you will not +forget us!” + +By this time they had reached the gate, which ’Sias had set wide open +for their egress. + +“Good-by, Uncle ’Sias. You must sometimes get in your boat and come to +see me in my new home,” said Em., holding out her hand. + +“Good-by, Miss Em. Surely I’ll come to see you. Give my despectful +compliments to Miss Mellow Ponies! If ever de ’Vine Marster was to +’flict me wid de ’reavement ob Sereny—but dere! I won’t say nuffin more +’bout dat. It’s permature!” added the old man, as he flourished his hat +in a final adieu. + +The father and daughter walked down to the shore, where they found the +two boys mounting guard over Em.’s trunk, which they had carefully +brought down from the house and deposited in the boat ready for +transportation. + +Em. took leave of her brothers and seated herself in the boat. + +“Get in, dad, and make yourself comfortable; we’ll unchain her,” +exclaimed Tom. + +Mr. Palmer followed this advice and took up the oars, and as soon as the +boat was free he pushed off. + +Em. steered. + +There was a strong current down the river, and they made very rapid +progress, and soon touched the island strand. + +“The lady will send two of her men servants down for my trunk, father. +We can safely leave it here in the meantime,” said Em., as she stepped +upon the land. + +John nodded and joined her, and they walked together through the silver +girdle, as the belt of maple trees was called, and thence through the +acacia groves and up the beautiful terraces to the summit of the island, +crowned with its white palace. + +The Lady of Edengarden stood at the portal to receive her new inmate. +She came down the steps, greeted John Palmer courteously, and then took +Em. in her arms in a warm embrace and kissed her on the forehead and +lips. + +“Don’t spoil my girl by petting and indulgence, ma’am,” said John +Palmer, smiling. + +“She cannot be spoiled. Nothing can spoil her,” said the lady earnestly. +“But now come in and rest and refresh yourself before returning, Mr. +Palmer.” + +“Thank you, ma’am, but I haven’t time,” replied John, with a how; and +resisting all the lady’s entreaties, he took leave of her and of his +daughter, and retraced his steps to the boat, followed by two boys whom +Emolyn had sent to bring up her young companion’s trunk. + +“Come on, my lads, you will have to step into the boat. There, each of +you take hold of the handles at each end and lift it out. There! All +right. Now go on!” said John Palmer cheerfully. + +And having seen the boys start with the trunk, he re-entered his boat +and rowed rapidly for home, feeling content because Em. was happy. + + + + + CHAPTER XXVI + A FAIRY BOWER + + Marble walled and crystal windowed, + Vailed with silken drapery, + Dressed with ornaments of silver, + Interlaid with gems and gold; + Filled with carvings from cathedrals, + Rescued in the times of old; + Eloquent with books and pictures, + All that luxury can afford; + Warm with statues that Pygmalion + Might have fashioned and adored, + In the island’s groves and grottoes, + Lovely are the light and gloom, + Fountains sparkle in the grotto, + And exotics breathe perfume. + MACKAY. + + +“Come, my darling, I wish to show you something,” said the Lady of +Edengarden, as she took the hand of Emolyn Palmer and led her out of the +front door and down the marble steps to the first terrace, which was +still green and fresh, though all around was touched with frost. Then +she turned her around, and they stood facing the beautiful windows +glistening in the morning sun like alabaster and rainbows. + +“Look,” said the lady, pointing to one high, airy white tower with many +windows, whose summit seemed to be almost up among the clouds. + +“Oh, I have often gazed at that tower, dear lady! How elegant it is!” +exclaimed Em. + +“Look at the top,” said the lady. + +“Oh, how lovely, with its crystal windows shaded with rose-colored silk +and opening upon marble balconies. It is like a chamber in Paradise +surely. I have often gazed at it while on my solitary visits to the +island, and thought it was too beautiful, aerial and ideal ever to be +used, and often wondered if any one ever lived in it! The white tower is +the most elegant part of the palace, and that aerial chamber in the +clouds the most beautiful part of the tower.” + +“It has never been occupied. It is a virgin bower. But come in and I +will take you at once to your apartment,” murmured Emolyn, as she drew +her young companion’s arm within her own and conducted her into the hall +and up the fairy flight of stairs leading to the upper floors. + +“I think I know your taste in lodgings. You have a cat-like love of +garrets,” said the lady, smiling. + +“Oh, yes, indeed I have; but I wonder how you know it, madam?” exclaimed +the girl in open-eyed astonishment. + +“I think I should have known it by intuition even if your mother had not +told me, as she did,” said the lady, as she passed the second landing +and led her companion still higher. + +They went up to the attic hall, with a floor inlaid of maple and black +walnut; with broad, stained glass windows at each end, which threw a +cathedral light over all, and doors on each side leading into closed +rooms; and, lastly, with one tall and narrow door in the corner, toward +which the lady led her guest. + +They passed through it and up a narrow but very pretty flight of stairs +that led them to an upper door, which the lady opened. + +Em. made an exclamation of surprise and delight. + +“This is your apartment, my little love,” said Emolyn. + +The simple maiden gazed around her in a perfect ecstasy of admiration. + +The sudden transit from the staircase to this radiant scene was almost +like the work of enchantment. + +Now I wish my readers to see this beautiful room in their mind’s eye as +clearly as I saw it. + +It was at the top of the highest tower of the Edengarden Villa. It was a +large, lofty, octagon-shaped room, whose eight sides were filled with +high, broad mirrors and windows, alternating with each other, and all +alike draped with rose-colored silk and white lace curtains to give +uniformity. The floor was covered with a carpet which, from its hue and +softness, seemed formed of blush roses and water lilies. Elegant +cabinets, stands and tables of white satinwood, inlaid with flowers +formed of malachite, mother-of-pearl, coral and turquoise, stood near +the silver-gilded pillars between the windows and the mirrors. + +Sofas, divans and luxurious chairs of white satinwood, upholstered in +rose-colored velvet and white chenille fringe, sat about in convenient +places, inviting repose. Statuettes of Parian marble—miniature copies of +the great masterpieces of sculpture, and vases of rare Sèvres china, +Bohemian glass, or alabaster, loaded with choice exotics, adorned the +brackets which were attached around the walls. + +The ceiling was a cupola, painted in fresco, of opal-tinted clouds on a +pale blue morning sky. But the central summit of this cupola was a +skylight composed of one solid sheet of thick, clear plate-glass, +through which the heavens could be seen by day or night. + +Em. gazed around on this fairy chamber, too much lost in admiration even +to ask herself whether it were not too rare and costly, too dainty and +delicate for daily use. + +“This is your boudoir, my bird. It is the topmost room in the high +tower. But this tower, as you may have observed from seeing it on the +outside, is flanked by four turrets, each with its row of long, narrow +windows.” + +“Oh, yes, madam, I have seen them all, and this chamber lifted up among +the clouds, as it seemed to be.” + +“Well, my dear, now look here. First, these four windows give you a wide +view of the country toward the four points of the compass. Then these +four mirrors between the windows are on hinges, and behind their silken +curtains open into turret chambers belonging to your suite of +apartments. See here!” she said, gently pushing one of the mirrors +outward and revealing an alcove of pure white silk and lace in which +stood a fairy bed of soft white draperies. + +“Oh, how lovely!” exclaimed the delighted girl. + +“Now look here,” the lady said, opening a second mirror and revealing a +dressing-room fitted with marble bath, basins, ewers, bureaus, presses +and all conveniences for the toilet. + +“Here is everything that even a princess might desire!” exclaimed Em. + +“And here!” continued the lady, turning in a third mirror, showing a +little room fitted up as an oratory, library or study. + +The floor was covered with a carpet of shaded green, like forest leaves; +the walls were lined with white satinwood shelves, filled with choice +books; in the middle of the room stood an elegant rosewood +writing-table, covered with a richly-embroidered green cloth. Near the +table stood an ebony-backed reading chair, cushioned with green and +gold; under the window, which was draped with green and gold fringe +velvet, stood a lounge in the same colors. + +“Oh, this is like the inside of an elegant casket!” exclaimed Em. with +enthusiasm. + +“Yes, it is a casket, and there are the jewels,” said the lady, pointing +to the books. “And now let me show you the fourth turret room,” she +continued, leading Em. to the only remaining mirror. Turning it inward, +she revealed the fairy-like, spiral staircase by which they had ascended +to this floor, and by which she now proposed that they should mount +still higher to the observatory. + +Em. followed her conductress up an aerial flight of steps and through a +stained glass window, which the lady slid aside, and thence out upon the +top of the tower. + +It was round. The center was formed of the clear glass crystal that gave +light to the chamber below. Around this crystal was a slender ring of +white marble balustrades; around that a marble walk; outside the walk a +row of white benches, and around the edge of the tower a circular +colonnade so massive as to insure the safety even of a sleepwalker, if +such should venture upon the giddy height. + +But the grand view, north, east, south, west, from that high and central +point! There was the island immediately beneath, with its lovely +grounds; the river all around; the wooded banks; the distant mountains! + +“Em.,” exclaimed Mrs. Lynn, “you can see The Breezes, Commodore Bruce’s +place, and the Wilderness Manor-house, and even the spire of Gray Rock +church from this point.” + +“Oh, it is grand! It is glorious!” exclaimed Em. in delight. + +“When you wish to leave the world far below you, you can come up here to +meditate, read, sew, sketch, dream, do as you please.” + +“It is like a place in a vision!” murmured Em. + +“And now, dear, we will go down,” said Mrs. Lynn, leading the way. + +When they had reached the beautiful octagon chamber, Em. said: + +“The season is late autumn, and the weather seems cold outside, yet the +temperature in here is that of summer, although I see no means of +heating this charming place.” + +“Do you not?” inquired the lady, smiling. + +“No, indeed.” + +“What do you take this to be?” she asked, pointing to a piece of +furniture that looked like a large pedestal and vase of alabaster and +Bohemian glass and stood near the center of the room. + +“That? Why, an elegant flower stand, to be sure!” said Em., wondering. + +“Why, so it is in summer; but in autumn and winter we put it to a +different use. Lay your hand on it—lightly, Em.” + +The girl placed her hand on the pedestal and quickly withdrew it, +exclaiming: + +“It is hot!” + +“Yes, and it heats the room. It is one of those porcelain stoves, such +as those with which the Russian palaces are partly heated. And see, +dear, the vase on top is kept full of rose-water, which diffuses both +moisture and perfume throughout the atmosphere.” + +“Oh, how perfect! I could not have conceived of a place so perfect, if +indeed it is not all a dream!” breathed Em. + +“And now, love, I will leave you to make your toilet for dinner. There, +in those drawers and wardrobes of your dressing-room, you will find an +outfit, such as I wish you to wear. Youth should always dress in white +while in the house, Em. At least I think so, even at this time of the +year. And you may do so with impunity, for, as you say, although the +season is autumn, the atmosphere is summer. It is _always_ summer at +Edengarden,” the lady added with a smile as she pressed a kiss upon the +lips of Em. and left the room. + +Em. stood for a moment looking about herself, still dazzled and +bewildered by the novelty and beauty of her surroundings, and then, +child like, she went to each rosesilk and lace-draped window and in turn +opened it and stepped out upon the marble balcony. There were four of +these, be it remembered, each affording strict privacy and commanding a +magnificent view. While she was still standing on the balcony outside of +the east window she was startled by a voice in the room calling out: + +“Miss Em.! Where is yer, honey? Come out here, honey.” + +“I _am_ ‘out here,’ Pony,” laughed the girl, “but I will step _in_, if +you want me.” + +“Oh, I t’ought you was in your bedroom, maybe. My mist’ess has sent me +up here to help yer to dress, chile.” + +“Thank you, aunty,” said Em. as she came into the room. + +Pony herself went into the dressing-closet and began to overhaul the +fresh wardrobe, saying: + +“There’s your nice gauze flannels in this bottom drawer, honey, and yer +cambric skirts in this, and yer dresses in the wardrobe, and yer——” + +“Pony,” interrupted Em., “I have not known your dear and lovely mistress +for a week, and here she has a complete outfit for me. How on earth +could she have got it?” + +“Oh, chile, maybe she may tell you herself some o’ dese days. _I_ ain’t +at liberty to explain, Miss Em. Only this I’ll say, dat dis wardrobe +wasn’t got for _you_, nor was dese rooms prepared for _you_, nor was——” + +“For whom, then, were the rooms fitted up and the wardrobe selected?” +inquired the wondering girl. + +“I can’t tell you, Miss Em. It ain’t my secret, but de madam’s. ’Haps, +as she has taken sich a fancy to you, she may tell you herself.” + +Em. looked so puzzled, and even distressed, that Pony hastened to say: + +“But you have got the beautiful rooms and the beautiful dresses all to +yourself now, honey, with no one to dispute them with you.” + +“I am afraid, though, that my gain is somebody else’s——” + +“No, indeed, Miss Em.! There you are very much mistaken, for I can tell +you this much——” eagerly interrupted the woman; and then she suddenly +paused. + +Em. waited for her to go on, grew impatient, and then demanded: + +“What, Pony?” + +“_These beautiful rooms and most beautiful raiment was never designed +for no mortal girl!_” + +“Pony! WHAT do you mean?” breathlessly exclaimed Em. as a mental vision +of the radiant White Lady of the Wilderness Manor-hall sent an electric +thrill through her veins. + +“I daren’t tell you, honey, what I mean. ’Haps _she’ll_ tell you some ob +dese days, since she’s took sich a liking to you, which I hopes, honey, +you’ll be a blessing to her and win her away from de solitary life as I +think has all but turned her brain. I has hopes of you, honey, ’cause +you’s de berry first person she has ever bided to make a companion of +for dese seventeen years or more. Your folks is de berry first people in +all dese many days as she has ever ’vited to her house.” + +“Oh, how lonely must such a life have been!” sighed the girl. + +“Yes, honey, but it was her own choosing. Why, dere was even Dr. Willet, +her ’ticklerest old friend! When he came here t’other day she _seed_ +him, to be sure, but she didn’t ax him to stay to dinner!” + +“Oh, I am _so_ glad she let me come!” said Em. + +“Yes, so am I. My hopes is all in you, Miss Em. My hopes for my dear +mist’ess is all in you! Why, honey, she is so _young_ to shet herself up +from deciety! She ain’t more’n thirty-two years old, and she don’t look +nigh _that_ even. She don’t look so much older’n you, Miss Em. And if +she would go out she might marry happy! She might, indeed, for dere’s +many and many an unmarried single young lady of her age what passed +theirselves off _well_ for a miss in her ’teens! And nobody know to de +contrary!” + +“Oh, if I could only do anything to make her happy! To make her forget +the past, whatever it is! To win her back to her fellow-beings!” sighed +Em., clasping her hands prayerfully. + +“I ’pends on you for to do dat, Miss Em. And now, my honey-bee, come +dress yerself as pretty as ever you can, for my lady loves to look at +pretty things. So dress yerself pretty, Miss Em.” + +“In the ghost’s clothes?” inquired Em., half jestingly, half +shudderingly. + +“No, honey, not de ghost’s! Don’t be afeard—dere’s no ghost. In de +_angel’s_ clothes, more like.” + +“What_ever_ do you mean, Pony?” + +“I daren’t say no more’n dis, honey—what I said afore—as dese things, +dese lovely rooms and lovely raiments, was never prepared for _you_, +_nor for no mortal lady_, dough you has got dem now! So, my honey, don’t +ax me no more questions, ’cause you wouldn’t have me ’tray my mist’ess’ +trust, would you?” seriously inquired Pony. + +“Oh, no, no, no!” earnestly exclaimed Em., who had not considered the +subject in that light before. + +“Well, den, honey, don’t ax me no more questions on dat subject, ’cause +talking is my weakness, anyhow; but, come, now and dress yerself pretty +as a fairy, to go down and sit wid my mist’ess.” + +Em. looked over her simple and elegant wardrobe and selected a costume +of embroidered white India muslin, lightly trimmed with pale blue +ribbons. + +When she was ready she followed Pony down to the presence of her +mistress, whom she found in a little boudoir connected with the long +saloon on one end and a small, elegant dining-room on the other. + +The lady had changed her own dress, and wore a silver-gray silk with +point lace falls, and no jewelry. + +“We dine early here, my dear girl,” said Mrs. Lynn as she touched the +bell. + +No one answered it, for the signal at that hour was understood, and in +about five minutes dinner was announced. + +No more need be said of this than that it was a dainty little dinner for +two, elegantly served in the small but sumptuous dining-room. + +After dinner Mrs. Lynn took Emolyn into the library, where they spent a +few pleasant hours seated in luxurious chairs at a table covered with +books of engravings after the old masters. + +When tired of this amusement at the lady’s suggestion they drew their +chairs to the fire and fell into a confidential chat. + +The lady drew Em. out to speak of her childhood, of Laundry Lane, of her +journey to the mountains, and of her first impressions of the new home. + +In the course of her narrative Em. spoke of the radiant vision she had +seen in the moonlit hall on the first night of her stay at the old +manor-house. + +“Life is full of mysteries,” muttered the lady thoughtfully—then, seeing +Em. watching breathlessly, she added—“But your vision was probably a +dream, inspired by the stories you had heard about the so-called +‘haunted hall.’” + +“But I never heard any stories, dear lady. To be sure, old ’Sias, the +gatekeeper, startled mother by hinting that no one who knew the house +could be induced to go into it. But he absolutely refused to explain his +words, so we heard no story,” said Em. + +“What? Why should you have dreamed of the bride’s ghost if you never had +heard the story?” + +“Dear lady, I did not dream. I _saw_ the radiant spirit.” + +“You think you did, my dear, at all events, and it is very strange that +your dream should have corresponded so well with the legend you never +heard.” + +“No, but please tell it to me, dear lady,” said Em., who had all a +child’s eagerness to hear a story. + +“It is very old; but one of my remote ancestors was a terrible domestic +tyrant, and had, among many sons, only one beautiful daughter. She loved +a poor young man, but was ordered by her father to marry an old one. +Parents did not trifle in those days. Ethelinde was to be forced to +obey. She was locked in her room and guarded till the wedding night. + +“The time came. The guests were assembled, the feast was spread. The +bridegroom and his attendants waited in the hall, the bishop and the +rector were ready in the drawing-room. The bride was dressed in splendid +bridal array; but every once noticed how pale she looked, even to her +lips. + +“At length the summons came and she went down, followed by her +bridesmaids. + +“From the lower end of the hall her aged bridegroom came to meet her. He +was bowing and smiling and holding out his hand. + +“But as he touched her she fell at his feet—DEAD! + +“The overtaxed heart had broken. There, those are the facts, Em.! The +fiction is that on every anniversary of that fatal day the bride goes +through her death march again, sometimes followed by a faithful +attendant, sometimes alone. You _must_ have heard the story and +forgotten it, else why should you have dreamed the dream?” + +“It was no dream, dear lady. Yours is a veritable ghost story, and I +have seen a veritable ghost,” said Em. in a voice of awe. + +“Come, let us go to bed and sleep off such morbid fancies,” said Mrs. +Lynn as she arose and rang for bedroom lights. + + + + + CHAPTER XXVII + EM.’S DAYS AT EDENGARDEN + + Within the island’s calm retreat + She leads a sort of fairy life, + Careless of victory or defeat, + In the word’s ceaseless toil and strife. + ANON. + + +Our little heroine’s life in Edengarden seemed to her something like +that of a princess in fairyland. + +She lived in ease and luxury, surrounded by beauty and splendor. + +No services were required from her. + +The Lady of Edengarden made out for her the programme of a course of +reading which she recommended the girl to pursue, and Em. gratefully and +gladly devoted a few hours of every morning to these studies. Mrs. Lynn +also instructed her chosen pupil in the French and German languages, and +in vocal and instrumental music, and in sketching and embroidery. + +Em. was very happy, or she would have been but for one tormenting +thought which presented itself again and again—the thought that she +herself was making no sort of return for all these benefits—no, nor +doing any useful thing, as far as she could see, for any human being. + +This thought sometimes made Em. so unhappy that at length she felt +forced to speak of it to her benefactress. She watched for an +opportunity to do so, and it came at length. + +She was sitting with Mrs. Lynn in the boudoir of the latter and engaged +on a beautiful piece of satin embroidery, mere useless “fancy” work, +such as Em. in her practical life had never “fancied.” + +“You look very thoughtful, my child. Are you homesick, Em.?” inquired +the lady. + +“Oh, no, dear madam, no!” earnestly replied the girl. + +“What is the matter then, my love! Do you not enjoy yourself here?” + +“Yes, dear lady, but——” + +“But what?” + +“I am not doing any service for you in return for all the great benefits +you lavish on me. I am not doing anything for anybody in the world, +and——” + +“Well, Em.?” + +“Well, dear lady, I feel as if I were doing wrong. I have been taught +that life was not given us for mere selfish enjoyment, and I have been +trained to a busy and active life.” + +“And you think that you are doing no good here?” + +“I am living a life of self-indulgence, dear lady.” + +“Instead of the life of self-devotion that you have been used to, I +suppose. Now listen to me, dear girl, and I will show you how mistaken +you are. When I first saw you, child, I was drawn to you as you admit +that you were to me. In my seventeen years of utter isolation from all +society I have never met any one to whom my heart went out as it did to +you. In the short time I have known you, my child, I have learned to +love you more and more. I keep you near me. I direct your education. It +is a happiness to me to do this.” + +“But I do nothing for you, dear lady.” + +“Yes, you heal me, child. _You heal me of a long, long heart-sickness._” + +“Oh, madam, if I could think myself so privileged, so honored and +_blessed_ as to be able to do that, I should indeed feel that my life +were well spent!” exclaimed the girl with enthusiasm. + +“Then content yourself, my child, for I have told you the truth. It can +be summed up in two words—I teach you. You heal me.” + +And indeed it was so. The lady was educating the girl and the girl was +drawing the recluse out of herself, out of her morbid thoughts, out of +her solitary life. + +A proof of this soon occurred. + +Dr. Willet came to the island. The recluse Lady of Edengarden not only +received him, as indeed she did on his first visit, but also pressed him +to stay and dine. + +The good doctor did not need much persuasion. He readily consented to +remain. He brought Em. news of her father’s family, who were all well +with the exception of Ann Whitlock, whom he reported to be very much in +the same condition in which Em. had left her. + +It was in the afternoon of that day when Em., having left the room for a +few moments, and Dr. Willet, finding himself alone with his hostess, +said: + +“That little girl is doing you good.” + +“Yes, she is a healing angel to me,” answered the lady. + +“Well, now, let me tell you one thing. It is from no peculiar merit in +the girl, although she is a good child. It is only because she is not +yourself. She is somebody outside of yourself. She is company, in fact. +That is the reason why she has done you good. Now, dear friend, let me +assure you that the more company you see, within certain limits, the +more good you will receive,” said the doctor. + +The lady did not reply. The doctor, encouraged by her silent toleration +of his argument, continued: + +“There is your old friend and neighbor, Commodore Bruce, with whom you +know I am staying. How rejoiced he would be to hear news of you. He has +never ceased to mourn you as dead, Emolyn Wyndeworth! Let me tell _him_, +at least, that you live and are well and near him.” + +“Oh, no, no, no!” exclaimed the Lady of Edengarden suddenly and +vehemently—“if you wish to break up my home here and send me forth again +a wanderer and a vagabond on the face of the earth, you will betray my +secret to _him_ of all men!” + +“My dear lady, say no more! say no more! Your secret is as safe with me +as with the dead!” hastily answered the doctor. + +The return of Em. put an end to the conversation, and Dr. Willet soon +after took his leave. + +In the course of the same week Susan Palmer came to see her daughter, +and at Mrs. Lynn’s cordial invitation spent the day. + +On bidding good-by to the lady she said: + +“I fear, dear madam, as you are a-sp’iling that girl for a poor man’s +wife, with all the luxuries and elegancies as you are a-pampering her up +with.” + +“Do not fear. If nature has not, from the beginning, spoiled her for a +poor man’s helpmate, education, at this late day, cannot do it. Besides, +Susan Palmer, why should she ever be a poor man’s wife?” inquired the +lady. + +This question arrested Susan’s attention at once. Though in the act of +departure she paused, turned around and exclaimed: + +“Oh! now I suppose Em. has been telling you about her wealthy lover!” + +“Her ‘wealthy lover?’ Indeed not,” replied the lady with an anxious +glance towards Em., who blushed to the edges of her hair. + +“Well, then, she _will_ tell you, ma’am, for I haven’t got time! Em., +tell the lady all about it, and she will be able to advise you just as +well as anybody in this world! Tell her all, Em., and don’t blush up so, +my girl! You behaved well in that business, child, and haven’t got +nothing to blush for!” said Susan Palmer proudly. And then, having +kissed her daughter and shaken hands with her benefactress, Susan went +down to the beach to be rowed home by old ’Sias. + +The Lady of Edengarden made it a matter of conscience to speak to her +young protégée on the subject suggested by Mrs. Palmer. She understood +well, also, how to prepare for such a confidential conversation. + +There was one room, the most plainly furnished in the Villa of +Edengarden, which was the favorite evening resort of Mrs. Lynn and her +young companion, because it was warmed by an old-fashioned open wood +fire. + +In this room Em. and her patroness sat in the evening after the +departure of Susan Palmer. + +Pony came in to light the lamps. + +“No, don’t do that yet awhile. We will sit in the firelight,” said Mrs. +Lynn. + +“It _is_ cozy like, too,” Pony admitted as she retired. + +“Draw your chair up to the fire, Em., put your feet on the fender; and +now, love, tell me who is this wealthy lover of yours of whom your +mother spoke?” softly inquired Mrs. Lynn when they were left alone in +the ruddy glow of the smoldering red hickory fire. + +“He is Lieutenant Ronald Bruce, the nephew and heir of Commodore Bruce, +of The Breezes,” answered Em. in a low and tremulous tone, feeling well +pleased that her face was but dimly visible in the glowing gloom of the +firelight. + +“‘Bruce!’ That name again,” murmured the lady thoughtfully. Then, after +a meditative pause, she said: “My dear girl, if you feel that you can +confide in me, tell me all about it.” + +Thus appealed to, Em. would have told her little love story to her +friend, cost what it might to her own feelings. + +It was not hard for her to tell it there. She drew her low chair closer +to the lady’s side, and with her head on the lady’s lap she related the +circumstances of her first meeting with Ronald Bruce, when he had saved +her from falling under the uplifted club of an intoxicated and +infuriated ruffian. How their acquaintance progressed. How he had been +her disinterested friend, and had tried to improve her condition even +before he had declared himself to be her lover. How he had procured her +first the offer of a situation of nursery governess in his sister’s +family, which she had refused for her father’s sake. How afterwards, +when her family had come to Virginia, he had managed so that his mother +had offered her a situation as seamstress at The Breezes. How Commodore +Bruce had taken a fancy to her himself, and when she was capriciously +discharged from his sister-in-law’s service had engaged her as his +reader, which post she had filled to his satisfaction until his nephew, +Lieutenant Ronald Bruce, had confessed his attachment to her and +announced his intention of marriage. + +“That was noble and upright in the young man. What followed?” inquired +Mrs. Lynn as Em. faltered and paused in her narrative. + +“Commodore Bruce summoned his nephew to his presence and threatened to +disinherit him unless he gave me up.” + +“What next, my dear? Speak on. Speak low if you like, but do not be +afraid. What did the young man say or do?” + +“Ronald declined to give me up, and accepted disinheritance as a +consequence.” + +“That was right. And then? What then? Compose yourself, my child, and +speak on.” + +“Then,” continued Em. in a low and faltering voice that seemed as if it +would break down at every syllable—“then Commodore Bruce sent for me and +told me all that he had told _him_—Ronald—and threw himself on what he +was so polite as to call _my_ honor, and asked me to reject Ronald for +Ronald’s own sake.” + +“And you, darling, _you_, what did you do?” + +“I—rejected—him—and went home—with my father,” said Em., utterly +breaking down. + +“Do not weep so bitterly, my love. This lover—he _never_ acted on your +forced rejection, Em.?” tenderly inquired the lady. + +“No—no! He would not listen to it. He said he was of age, and no one had +the right to control him in a matter so near his heart,” continued Em., +recovering something of her self-possession. + +“Go on, dear.” + +“He appealed to my father; but my dear father was prouder in his way +than Commodore Bruce himself. He refused me to Ronald. He said that no +daughter of his should ever enter any family who would not be as glad to +receive her as ever he could be to give her. And that Lieutenant Bruce +must never come again until he came authorized by Commodore Bruce to ask +my hand.” + +“And so,” said the lady, “between these two stiff-necked old men—the +haughty old commodore and the arrogant overseer—you are to be +sacrificed! For, I suppose, as a dutiful child, you will abide by your +father’s decision.” + +“Oh, yes, madam, for I promised my dear father never to marry without +his consent, and I know he will never consent to my marriage with +Ronald,” said Em., almost on the verge of breaking down again, but she +succeeded in controlling herself. + +“So, finally, all depends upon the will of Commodore Bruce?” + +“Yes, madam.” + +“But, again, the young man—has he accepted this decision of your +father?” + +“No, indeed, madam, no more than he accepted that of his uncle or mine! +He says he will never give me up!” + +“He is right. Commodore Bruce must be brought to terms. Do not +misunderstand me, however, my dear. I strongly disapprove of young +people taking the law into their own hands in this respect, and marrying +against the wishes of their parents. But Ronald’s case is an exceptional +one. Commodore Bruce is not his father, nor his guardian, and has no +right to dictate to him, a man of twenty-five, on the subject of his +marriage, nor has he the moral right to bribe him by a rich inheritance +to give up his true and honest love. With your father’s feeling on the +subject I can better sympathize. I, too, if I were so blessed as to have +a daughter, would object to her entering even a royal family by +marriage, if they were not as proud to receive her as I to bestow her. +Yes, I understand and appreciate your father’s motives. It is the old +commodore who must be set right. Now, cheer up, my darling. I will be +the fairy godmother who shall bring the prince back to your feet,” said +the lady, pressing a kiss upon her brow. + +Em. looked up—gratefully, doubtfully; for how, she asked herself, could +this lady, with all her great power and good will, influence Commodore +Bruce to put away those strong prejudices of caste which formed a part +of his very being? + +The Lady of Edengarden, watching her expressive face, read her thoughts +and answered them as if they had been spoken. + +“Commodore Bruce knew me and loved me from my childhood up to the time I +was about sixteen years of age. I have not seen him since. The trial +that blighted my life has prevented me——But I cannot speak of that! He +believes me dead! But for your sake, my darling, I will burst the bonds +that hold me. I will break the silence of years. I will go to Commodore +Bruce in person, and I know I have the talisman which shall bring him to +favorable terms. Cheer up, Em.! All will be well.” + + + + + CHAPTER XXVIII + A VISIT TO THE BREEZES + + Sunrise will come next! + The shadow of the night is passed away! + BROWNING. + + +“Yes,” said the Lady of Edengarden to herself on the morning after her +eventful conversation with Em., and while she and her young companion +sat together in the blue parlor, engaged with their embroidery—“yes, +though I have never left this island except to leave the country, I will +try to break the strong spell that has bound me, and to cast off the +dark nightmare that has oppressed me for years, and, for the sake of +this gentle child, and of one who bears the name and likeness of him I +loved and lost, I will seek the presence of the man whom I most dreaded +to meet in this world.” + +All who ever knew Emolyn Wyndeworth knew that she was sensitive, timid, +and retiring in the extreme. To these weaknesses she owed all her +misfortunes. To these she had so succumbed as to have died a moral and +social death daily for the last seventeen years. + +It required, therefore, a heroic effort in her to form this resolution. +It would require an almost superhuman one to carry it into effect. + +While she was still trying to + + “Screw ‘her’ courage to the sticking place” + +for an interview with Commodore Bruce, two cards were brought in by her +page and placed in her hands. + +“‘Dr. Willet,’ ‘Lieutenant Bruce,’” she read aloud. + +Em. looked up suddenly, too much frightened to blush. She expected to +see a frown of anger at this intrusion on the face of her who had worn +nothing but smiles for her protégée. + +But, no! that very grave face had not the slightest trace of displeasure +on it. + +“Where have you left these gentlemen?” she inquired of her page. + +“In the small white saloon, madam.” + +“I will see them there. Go and say so.” + +The page left the room and the lady turned to Emolyn, whose color was +rolling over her face like rose-leaves before a breeze. + +“You are afraid I am not going to let you see your lover? Do not fear +that, my child ; I shall send him in to you. I have something to say to +Dr. Willet,” said the lady as she stooped and left a kiss on the brow of +the girl and passed from the room. + +In the small white saloon—which was a sort of anteroom to the large +white saloon—the hostess found Dr. Willet and Lieutenant Bruce. + +The former arose and advanced toward her with outstretched hands and +deprecating smile, saying: + +“I have to beg your pardon for what I fear you will consider an +unpardonable liberty; but my young friend here——Allow me to present +Lieutenant Bruce——” + +Here the young officer approached and bowed reverentially, and the lady +smiled on him and offered her hand, saying: + +“I have heard of Lieutenant Bruce from a young lady who is staying with +me, and I am very happy to make him welcome to Edengarden.” + +The young officer bowed again and lifted the hand of the lady to his +lips. + +“So! the great gun is fired, and nobody killed or desperately wounded,” +muttered the doctor to himself; then, aloud: “My young friend here, as I +was about to say, asked me to introduce him to you, madam, and, in fact, +would take no denial.” + +“I am very glad to see him,” repeated the lady. + +“He had, in fact, a small parcel belonging to your young protégée, which +he did not care to trust to an ordinary messenger, and which I, for +reasons, did not volunteer to bring myself,” added the doctor with a +merry look. + +“And perhaps, for the same cause, you would prefer to deliver your +parcel in person, Mr. Bruce,” suggested the lady with a smile. + +“If you please, madam,” replied the young gentleman with a bow, +expecting that his hostess would then send for her little companion. + +In fact, the lady touched the bell and brought her young page to her +presence. + +“Show this gentleman to the blue parlor,” she said to the boy. “You will +find Miss Palmer there,” she added to the man. + +Ronald Bruce arose, turned a grateful look upon the lady, and followed +the page. + +“I perceive that you have divined this pretty little love idyl, and do +not disapprove it,” said Dr. Willet as soon as he was left alone with +the Lady of Edengarden. + +“I was about to make the very same observation to you. No, indeed, I do +not disapprove of it. On the contrary, I wish to do everything I can to +forward it. Dr. Willet!” + +“Well, my dear?” + +“I am going to match-making.” + +“You, my child?” + +“Yes. From what I have understood, her want of fortune is the only +objection the lover’s friends have to his chosen bride—the only +objection they _can_ have—for the girl is beautiful, intellectual, +graceful, amiable, fairly educated, ladylike, and young enough to +improve in all these things.” + +“But her want of fortune, my dear lady——” + +“I can supply. I have ample means and no children, no, nor even near +relations in this world. I have fallen in love with this little girl! +You smile, but, indeed, that is the only way in which I can express my +sudden and increasing affection for little Emolyn Palmer. I will endow +her richly on her marriage, and make her my heiress at my death. You +smile again.” + +“I am thinking, dear lady, that you and your protégée seem to be so +nearly of an age, that, to use a homely proverb, ‘When one dies of old +age, the other may quake for fear!’” + +“There is sixteen years’ difference between our ages, doctor.” + +“Indeed! But, yes, of course, when I come to remember, I know there must +be. And you will really endow this child?” + +“Yes, Dr. Willet, and——” + +“Well, my dear?” + +“I wish to see Commodore Bruce myself on this subject.” + +“You do! Oh, I am delighted to hear you say that you will see him on +_any_ subject! He will be so rejoiced to know that you live that I +believe it will add years to his own lease of life.” + +“That is very pleasant to hear. Yet I do not see why the aged commodore +should take such a great interest in me! Why, indeed, he should take +_any_ interest now,” said the lady thoughtfully. + +“I think it is from a morbid compunction—almost remorse.” + +“‘Remorse?’” + +“Yes, Emolyn! For on the last night before his son Leonidas embarked on +that fatal voyage from which he never returned the boy, moved by some +prophetic spirit, implored his father to watch over YOU—his own lifelong +playmate and companion. The father gave less heed to this parting prayer +than he afterwards had reason to suppose he should have done; and he has +fostered a morbid remorse of which he has only very lately made me the +confidant. He will be so glad to know that you still live, dear Emolyn, +that he will be likely to yield to any wish of yours, even to the +consenting that his nephew and heir shall marry the overseer’s +daughter.” + +“Heaven grant it,” she breathed in tones so low, so full of controlled +emotion, that the doctor turned and regarded her with surprise. He could +not know the depths of bitter memory in her bosom that had been stirred +by the name of Leonidas Bruce. + +“You take this girl’s interests very deeply to heart. No doubt you will +be able to influence the old commodore in their favor. Shall I bring him +here to see you to-morrow?” he inquired. + +“No, no, for he is aged, and, as I have heard from Emolyn Palmer, +unwilling ever to stir from his home. No; but I will ask you, Dr. +Willet, to take me to see him. Will you do so?” + +“Most willingly, my dear young friend. When shall I have the pleasure? +To-morrow? Next day? When?” + +“Can I not go to-day? Accompany you when you return?” inquired the lady. + +“Assuredly you can if you wish! I shall be very happy to have you. Young +Bruce and I rowed ourselves here, and we shall be very glad to row you +back with us.” + +“How soon do you return? Do not think me inhospitable; for I know, of +course, by your bringing Lieutenant Bruce, that you did not intend to +give _us_ the pleasure of your company all day, and I only wished to +know if you were going directly to The Breezes, or intending to keep on +to Gray Rock?” said the lady with a deprecating smile. + +“Oh, I understand perfectly, and so I am not sensitive! We are going +directly back to The Breezes, my dear lady, and will be happy to take +you with us,” said the doctor. + +“Then, if you will kindly excuse me, I will go and put on my hat and +shawl and be ready, so that when our young friends have got through +their _tête-à-tête_ I may not keep you waiting,” replied the lady as she +left the room. + +In the meantime Ronald Bruce passed into the blue parlor, where he found +Em. awaiting him. + +The girl’s countenance prompted her to rebuke her lover for his second +audacious attempt to break through her father’s prohibition. But at the +sight of his loving, happy, radiant face her heart condoned the offense. + +“Dear Em., dear, dearest Em.! don’t reproach me! I have not seen you for +a month. I could not stand it any longer. I had to make a friend of old +Dr. Willet, I mean a confidant, for he was always my friend—one of my +oldest and best friends—and I got him to bring me here and introduce me +to the lady of the house. Oh! Em., my treasure, I am so glad to see you! +Don’t reproach me!” + +Indeed, she could not do so. His beaming countenance continued to shine +on her, while he held her hands, rapturously kissing them from time to +time as he poured forth his impetuous stream of words. + +“I am _very_ glad to see you, Ronald, but, oh! I know I ought not to be +glad. Did my dear lady send you in to see me?” she inquired while he +placed himself at her side on the sofa. + +“Oh, yes, to be sure she did! Some good spirit must have whispered to +her how much I wished to see you alone,” he said, still tightly holding +her hand and pressing it to his lips. + +“Don’t, Ronald, please don’t do that,” she said, withdrawing her hand, +but adding, “I told the lady all about us, Ronald.” + +“You! There, I said some angel had enlightened her, and you are the +one!” he murmured, as he recaptured her hand and deftly slipped a ring +upon her finger. + +“Oh! what is this?” she exclaimed, raising the hand that he had then +released and gazing upon the sparkling solitaire diamond set in the +golden circle around her finger. + +“It is something belonging to you,” he gravely replied. + +“Belonging to me!” she exclaimed. + +“Yes, it is your betrothal ring, ordered for you some weeks ago, but +never received until yesterday.” + +She began to withdraw the ring from her finger, but he caught her hand +and prevented her from doing so as he said: + +“No, Em., you must not remove it. You must wear it until it is replaced +by a wedding ring. Listen, Em.! Don’t make me out a story-teller! I said +I had a parcel to deliver which _belonged to you_, as it did belong to +you, since it was ordered and made for you—and that was my excuse for +wanting to intrude on the seclusion of this hermit lady! Don’t make me +out a mendacious villain by refusing to take _what belongs to you_!” + +“I don’t understand your logic, dear Ronald; but I _know_ I must not +take a betrothal ring from you in the face of my father’s prohibition of +our engagement,” replied the girl as she steadily withdrew the ring from +her finger and returned it to him. + +“Little wooden post! Little marble pillar! Little iceberg!” exclaimed +the young man half angrily. “Are we _not_ engaged, then? Do you withdraw +from your promise?” + +“No, dear Ronald, not one iota! I promised never to marry any other +person but you, and, of course, I never shall. It was hardly worth while +to have made such a promise, though! It was altogether a word of +supererogation, for in _no_ case could I ever think of any other +marriage. But notwithstanding that, Ronald, I can never marry you until +my father withdraws his opposition, and so, dear, I must not take your +ring.” + +“It is _you_ who are as relentless as a griffin! I do not find it so +difficult to manage the old man. He did not forbid me the house the last +time I went to see you there! No, although I went there on that occasion +against his order!” + +“I suppose he thought it was no use to prohibit the visits of a man who +paid no attention to his prohibition,” said Em. gravely. + +“No, that was not the reason! My father-in-law who is to be would have +been more likely to have kicked out any other man but me, under the like +circumstances. But I am really very much attached to the old man, and he +knows it, and he _could_ not snub me while I smiled in his face! That +was the reason why he did not repeat his prohibition or even forbid me +to visit you here!” + +“Oh, my father would never have done the last! He had no right to say +that you should not come to Edengarden. But, Ronald, he confides in your +honor and in mine. And we must not abuse his confidence. He shall not be +disappointed in us, Ronald. Oh, I have something so delightful to tell +you, dear Ronald! I have already told you how I made known our case to +my dear friend and benefactress, and I suppose that was the reason why +she staid with Dr. Willet and sent you in to see me. Well, Ronald, this +dear lady feels so interested in us that she is going to interfere, and +she says she has a _talisman_—that is only her way of saying that she +has power and influence with the commodore sufficient to win his consent +to our marriage.” + +“The Lady of Edengarden said that?” exclaimed young Bruce in surprise. + +“Indeed she did, dear, and she promised faithfully to use her power in +our favor.” + +“I do not know what power or influence this beautiful, mysterious and +most interesting lady can have with my old uncle. I am very sure that he +is not even acquainted with her; for on one occasion, when I first came +to The Breezes, I asked him if he knew his neighbor on the island, whose +name was on everybody’s lips; he said no, he didn’t know her, and had +never even heard of her until very recently; and he added in his rough +way that he didn’t want to know her—that he disapproved of women whose +eccentricities placed their names in everybody’s mouth! That is a dark +prospect for her success with my uncle, Em., my darling!” + +“Ah! but I suspect that the Lady of Edengarden knows what she is talking +about. Besides, how should Commodore Bruce be able to tell whether he +has ever known her before? Hardly any one knows who she was, or where +she came from. For my part, I believe she _has_ the power and influence +which she claims,” said Em., speaking with confidence, although she did +not feel at liberty to speak with explicitness. + +“Very well, my dearest, I pin my faith on Mrs. Lynn and on your superior +knowledge of that lady, only devoutly praying that my faith, as well as +yours, may be justified,” said Ronald Bruce. + +What more he might have said on the same subject does not appear, +because the abrupt entrance of the little page stopped the conversation. + +“If you please, sir, Dr. Willet bid me say to you, with his compliments, +that he is ready to go,” said the boy. + +“Very well! Tell Dr. Willet I will join him in a minute,” replied the +young man. + +The boy withdrew to carry his message. + +When they were once more alone Em. said: + +“Dear Ronald, do not keep the good doctor waiting.” + +“I will not, darling, especially as I owe to him the introduction +that enables me to visit you here; for now that an _entrée_ has +been effected, I shall come often, Em., unless my excellent +father-in-law-elect should take it into his conscientious head to +forbid me! Well, good-by, my precious!” he said, stooping to kiss +her. + +“Stop,” she said, deftly evading the caress. “I am going out with you to +see Dr. Willet. I want to ask him how my dear old Aunty Whitlock is!” + +“Oh, Em., was ever a girl so blessed or burdened with relations as you +are?” + +“Blessed—not burdened,” said Em. as they left the parlor and walked on +together to the little white saloon. + +“Oh, Dr. Willet, I am so glad to see you to-day. Have you been to the +Wilderness this morning?” inquired Em. as she shook hands with the good +physician. + +“Yes, my child; and I left them all well, with the exception of Mrs. +Whitlock, who is no better,” replied the doctor as he arose to take +leave. + +“You are going out, dear madam?” inquired Em. as she saw Mrs. Lynn +standing beside the door, dressed for her visit. + +“Yes, my love. The doctor’s call this morning is very opportune, since +it affords me the privilege of his escort to The Breezes,” said Mrs. +Lynn with a bow to the physician. + +Em. exchanged an intelligent glance with her lover; but that was all +they could do, for the doctor advanced and shook hands with her again, +this time bidding her good-by. + +“But who is to bring you home again, madam?” anxiously inquired Em. of +her benefactress. + +“_I_ shall have that honor, so I will not say good-by, but _au revoir_,” +Ronald Bruce hastened to add as he seized and pressed her hand. + +The lady and her escort then left the house and walked down to the boat. + +“It is only about half way to the Wilderness Manor Landing that we have +to go to reach The Breezes, I believe,” said Mrs. Lynn, as she permitted +herself to be assisted into the boat and accommodated with a cushioned +seat in the stern. + +“Scarcely so far. We shall reach The Breezes in half an hour with _our_ +rowing,” answered Ronald Bruce, as he pushed off the boat. + +Then both gentlemen laid themselves to the oars and the boat sped on. + + + + + CHAPTER XXIX + BEARDING THE LION IN HIS DEN + + By hope I see the landscape bathed in light; + And where the golden vapor vails the gaze, + Guess out the spot and mark the site of happy days. + BULWER. + + +It was a glorious autumn day. The sky, of a deep and brilliant hue, was +without a single cloud. The moss-covered mountain rocks on the right +hand and the wooded hills on the left glowed and burned in all the most +gorgeous hues—scarlet, golden, purple, green, crimson and orange—all +reflected as by a clear mirror in the calm deep waters of the river. + +“Oh, surely this glowing day is a happy augury!” said the Lady of +Edengarden, as the boat skimmed the water. + +“Let us believe that it is so. Faith works miracles,” replied the +doctor. + +The young officer turned a grateful glance on his good fairy, but said +nothing. + +In a few more minutes they caught sight of the low, broad, gray front of +the old mountain manor-house, roosted on its natural plateau of rock, +half way up the precipice, and known to the country round by the name +given it by its nautical proprietor—The Breezes. + +In a few more minutes the boat touched the sands on the lower landing, +and Lieutenant Bruce sprang out and assisted his lady passenger to do +the same. + +The ascent of the steep was difficult and wearisome, but not dangerous. + +Dr. Willet and Lieutenant Bruce each proffered strong arms to assist the +lady in climbing, but she, who in the course of her travels had ascended +more than one celebrated mountain, smilingly declined their aid, and +with the help of her long-handled parasol, folded and used as a +walking-stick, she went up the precipitous path as safely as a kid could +have done. + +When they reached the plateau on which the house was built, they entered +a gate in the stone wall upon the very brink of the precipice, and +passing through the enclosed space went up to the front entrance. + +Lieutenant Bruce being at home, did not wait to knock, but opened the +door and admitted the party. + +Dr. Willet led Mrs. Lynn at once into a little study, which had been +placed at his disposal by the commodore on his first arrival at The +Breezes. + +He placed a chair for his companion, and said: + +“Remain here, dear Emolyn, where you will be entirely free from +interruption, while I go and find my old friend and break to him the +news of your visit—indeed of your existence, which will seem to him like +a resurrection from the dead,” added the doctor, as he pressed her hand +and left the room. + +The lady sat back in her chair, trying to gain courage for the dreaded +interview. And with the strange double consciousness which we have all +at times experienced, while bending all her powers of mind to prepare +for the approaching ordeal, she also observed the smallest detail in the +dingy little corner nook in which she waited—the faded green carpet and +curtains, the old walnut table and chairs, the quaint old-fashioned +escritoire, half bureau as to its lower division, and half bookcase as +to its upper, whose shelves, seen through the glass doors, displayed a +queer collection of old, moldy folios. + +Meanwhile Dr. Willet went on to the handsome and well-appointed library +where Commodore Bruce usually passed his days in reading, writing, +smoking and dozing. + +He found the old sailor, wrapped in his wadded silk dressing-gown and +reclining back in his luxurious easy-chair, engaged in looking over a +newspaper that had just been brought to him by his mail messenger. + +“Ah, doctor! Back so soon? I am glad of it! There is nothing at all +worth reading in the papers nowadays, and I feel as dull as a ship +becalmed at sea! Well, how is your patient, sir?” demanded the old +sailor. Then without waiting for reply, he burst out with: “It is +disgusting to think you left your practice in the city and came here for +a good rest——” + +“I came here for the pleasure of your company, my dear friend, and for +nothing else under the sun!” interrupted the doctor. + +“Well, then, you came here for the pleasure of my company, which, by the +by, is a very great and undeserved compliment to my powers of +entertaining. But let that pass. You came for my company, and the rest, +you know, is thrown in. But instead of a rest, you have found a free +patient, whose condition requires you to ride about twelve miles a +day—counting both ways!” + +“No more exercise than is required for my own health. Besides, I take an +interest in the old woman. She is a very old acquaintance of mine, and +in former days was often my co-laborer, being a professional +sick-nurse,” said the doctor. + +“Well, well, as you please, but I think it would be pleasanter now for +you to take an occasional ride behind the hounds with my nephew instead +of that dreary daily sick call! However, be it as you will; only I hope +the old crone will get well or go to heaven before long. Is she likely +to do either?” + +“Can’t say. She is in the very same condition as we have seen an old +patient of hers and mine, and an old friend of yours. I refer to the +late Captain Wyndeworth. This woman was his sick-nurse at the time that +I attended him in his last illness, during that dreadful winter +preceding the trial of Emolyn Wyndeworth. Ah, I have often thought what +a mercy it was that the old gentleman was taken away before that +disaster fell upon his house,” murmured the doctor, purposely dragging +in the subject. + +“Ah, so have I! That fatal year was full of disaster! First came the +death of my good old friend, the—the loss of my dear boy at sea,” +muttered the old commodore in a breaking voice—“then, worse than all, +the terrible calamities that befell Emolyn! Ah, that poor girl!” + +“Did you ever ascertain her fate?” pointedly inquired the doctor. + +“Oh, no; but of course she is dead; of course she has been dead for many +years. Emolyn Wyndeworth never could have survived the shame of a public +trial—and such a trial!” + +“But when it ended in her triumphant acquittal!” + +“It was not triumphant for her. It was dishonor heaped upon dishonor +from beginning to end. Her defense was based upon the theory of +paroxysmal insanity. Bah! the verdict of acquittal was rendered upon the +same ground. Bah! bah! It killed her, sir!” + +“Perhaps not; she certainly had the consciousness of innocence to +support her.” + +“A very much overrated support, sir.” + +“You believe her to have been innocent?” + +“‘_Believe_,’ Dr. Willet! I know it, sir! I knew that child from her +babyhood up. So did you. And I know her to have been as innocent as an +infant angel. She said that she had been married. I don’t _believe_ she +had ever been married! but I KNOW she was married because she said so! +she who never dreamed it possible to lie! She said her young husband was +dead, and therefore, of course, I knew he was dead because she said so, +she whose soul was truth! She would not give up the name of her husband +even to help her own defense. She would not drag down the name of an +honorable family into the mire into which her pure name had been hurled +by wicked hands! How well I understood her motive! She was a Wyndeworth! +She came of a race whose men were all honest, whose women were all pure! +She could not be otherwise. Divine lips have told us that ‘men do not +gather grapes of thorns or figs of thistles.’ Emolyn Wyndeworth was a +true daughter of her noble line! When put to the test, that gentle, +sensitive, shrinking girl became heroic! Yes, I repeat it, Emolyn +Wyndeworth was innocent, and not only innocent, but heroic! I would to +Heaven that _I_ were as guiltless of offense toward her as she was +toward all the world!” concluded Commodore Bruce, with a deep sigh. + +“I am sure that you can have nothing to reproach yourself with in regard +to that most unhappy lady,” said Dr. Willet. + +“You don’t know anything about it, sir! You don’t know anything about +it! Why, the very last night before my poor boy, Lonny, sailed on that +fatal voyage, from which he was destined never to return—on that very +last night, I say, in the most earnest, tender, manly way, perfectly +wonderful in a mere boy like Lonny, he commended Emolyn Wyndeworth to my +care. There were tears in the lad’s eyes, sir, as he spoke of her +orphaned and desolate condition, and told me how he had loved her all +his life long and hoped some time or other to claim her as his wife. At +that time, although he was about to leave me for a long voyage, I could +scarcely forbear smiling at the earnestness of the lad in speaking of a +prospective wife, and commending the waiting bride-elect to my fatherly +care. Of course, I promised to look after the girl, but equally, of +course, I forgot my promise—forgot it—ah, yes! until the catastrophe +brought it to my mind too late! too late!” + +All this the old commodore had told the doctor several times before, yet +with the fatuity of approaching dotage he told it again. + +“Forgive me for saying that I think you exaggerate your responsibility +in this matter and torture yourself needlessly.” + +“No, I don’t! No, I don’t! I will prove to you that I don’t by +mentioning—that which I never breathed to any human being before—that +Emolyn Wyndeworth had been privately married to my son—that her child +was his legitimate daughter! There, it is out! Now you know the secret +of what you call my morbid self-reproach! It was my poor, shipwrecked +and drowned boy who was the lost husband of whom she spoke. It was _our_ +name she refused to bring down to dishonor when the false accusation of +child-murder had branded her pure name!” + +“Father in heaven, can this be true?” exclaimed the doctor in much +agitation. + +“I firmly believe it to be as I have said. She was the wife of my son by +a private marriage. But when unmerited dishonor fell upon her name she +resolved, by her silence, to shield us from any share in it. She died +and made no sign.” + +“Commodore Bruce, for Heaven’s sake, declare to me what reason you have +for believing this!” + +“Every reason that ought to have opened my eyes before the catastrophe +came! My son’s solemn charge. Her deep dejection after his departure. +The fact that they had been the most intimate friends and playmates from +their infancy to youth, so that he had no other girl playmate, she no +other boy acquaintance. This should have enlightened us all if we had +not been as blind as bats! Then again her declaration that her young +husband had belonged to a good family and that he was dead. All this +pointed to Leonidas Bruce. + +“Again, in those last, sad months, when her uncle lay slowly dying and I +was accustomed to visit him every morning, I recall her wistful looks +into my face—the looks of a poor, hunted fawn—the pleading gaze of a +poor, helpless, frightened creature that mutely prays for mercy!—the +looks she would raise to my face as she stood in the front hall waiting +for me to pass! Why, sir, I tell you, hundreds of times I was on the +point of speaking to the poor child and asking her what her trouble was, +but that Malvina Warde—may the foul fiend fire her!—was always in the +way, rattling with her tongue and hurrying me along, so that beyond a +nod or a word I could get no conversation with the girl. And shortly +after I went to sea, and did not return until the trial of Emolyn +Wyndeworth was on. It was very short, you know, and after she was +acquitted she suddenly vanished from sight, nor could all my effort to +trace her be successful. So many years have passed since then that I +have quite given her up for dead,” sadly concluded the old man. + +“And yet, for aught you know to the contrary, she may be living,” +murmured the doctor. + +“Bah!” exclaimed the commodore. “Julius Cæsar may be also living, but it +must be in another sphere of existence. No, the opportunity of saving or +helping Emolyn Wyndeworth passed out of my hands because I was, in her +case, too dull of perception, too slow of action. But understand this: +Even at the time of the trial I did not suspect that Emolyn Wyndeworth +had been the wife of my son. I suspected it afterward, upon reflection, +and then, as I recalled all the circumstances of the case, I saw them in +a new light, and my suspicion became conviction and filled me with +regret, that grew into remorse, for my previous dulness and blindness, +which had resulted so fatally for that poor, forlorn child. Thus, you +see, sir, I mourn the early and tragic fate of Emolyn Wyndeworth in a +sorrow that is without hope,” said the old man, dropping his gray head +upon his chest. + +“But, as we have never had any proof of her death, she may be still +living!” the doctor ventured again to suggest. + +The commodore made a movement of disgust and impatience, demanding: + +“If she is _not_ dead, why has no one ever heard anything of her in all +these years?” + +“Perhaps some one has heard of her,” quietly suggested the doctor. + +“Bah!” exclaimed the old sailor. + +“I think—I am sure that some one has heard of her.” + +“I should like to know who it is, then!” exclaimed the commodore +incredulously. + +“It is I!” + +“EH?” + +“I!” + +“You!” + +“Yes!” + +“Heard of Emolyn Wyndeworth!” + +“I have!” + +“Good Heaven! You don’t say so!” + +“Yes, I do!” + +“When? Where? How? Speak, sir! Where is she? Living? Well?” demanded the +excited old man, pouring question upon question with impetuous rapidity. + +“She is living, and well, and not very far off,” quietly answered the +doctor, as he arose, poured out a glass of water and made the commodore +drink it. + +“It seems incredible!” exclaimed the old man, as he returned the empty +goblet to his friend. + +“I knew you would be agitated by such news, and I tried to prepare you +for it,” said the doctor. + +“It fills me with joy, and joy does not hurt any one. It moves me with +gratitude, and that blesses every one. Thank Heaven! Oh, thank Heaven! +But where is this lady now? If she should be within five hundred miles +of me, I will seek her within a week,” said Commodore Bruce, more firmly +and calmly than he had yet spoken. + +“She is much nearer than that. She is quite within your reach,” calmly +replied Dr. Willet. + +“Where? Where? Speak, friend! There is no need of farther preparation. +If you were to tell me she was in the next room, it could not startle me +_now_!” exclaimed the commodore, unconsciously touching the very truth. + +Still the doctor deemed it best to be cautious. + +“Have you never suspected her possible identity with that of the recluse +Lady of Edengarden?” significantly inquired the doctor. + +“Never! What? The Lady of Edengarden? You don’t mean to tell me——” The +old man paused and gazed with amazement on the doctor. + +“Yes, I do. I mean to tell you that Emolyn Wyndeworth and the Lady of +Edengarden are one and the same,” the latter assured him. + +The commodore dropped his head upon his chest and stroked his full gray +beard. + +“Is she living there at present?” he at length inquired. + +“Yes; though usually she does not live there in the winter.” + +“Then I will go to see her before twenty-four hours are over my head.” + +“There will be no need. Emolyn Wyndeworth has come to see you!” + +“EH!” + +“Emolyn Wyndeworth has come to see Commodore Bruce, her father’s old +friend. She only waits your pleasure to receive her.” + +“Where? Where? Where does she wait?” + +“In the little green study at the end of the hall,” replied the doctor +composedly. + +The veteran of seventy-six sprang up with the agility of a youth of +sixteen and dashed out of the library, exclaiming: + +“Emolyn Wyndeworth here! In this house! Oh, how I thank Heaven to have +lived for this happiness!” + + + + + CHAPTER XXX + THE MEETING + + A hundred thousand welcomes! I could weep + And I could laugh—I’m light and heavy! Welcome! + A blight begin at the very root of his heart + Who is not glad to see thee! Welcome! + SHAKESPEARE. + + +“Emolyn Wyndeworth! Emolyn, my child, can it be possible that I find you +again after all these years?” exclaimed Commodore Bruce, seizing the +hands of the lady as she arose and offered them on his entrance into the +little study. + +“You _are_ glad to see me, then?” she murmured in low and tremulous +tones. + +“‘Glad?’ Oh, my Lord!” aspirated the old man with all his soul. + +“Let me sit down,” she breathed in almost inaudible tones, as she sank +back trembling into her seat. + +“You are not much changed; not so much as might have been expected. No, +indeed, you are not,” he resumed, as he stood before her, holding her +hands and gazing wistfully, tenderly into her face. + +“Years of life without smiles, or tears, or frowns, or any emotion that +could trace a line on cheek or brow, a life in marble, a life in death, +leaves no vestige of its passage on the face or form,” mournfully +replied Emolyn. + +“But, my child, why have you led this life? Why have you expatriated and +hidden yourself from your friends all these years?” + +“You ask me why? Oh, Commodore Bruce!” + +“Well, I suppose I know or can surmise your motive for doing so; but, +Emolyn, that motive arose from a very morbid mind. Oh, child, if you +knew how I have ‘sought you, sorrowing,’ all these years!” + +“Ah, why should you have taken any interest in one so lost?” she sighed, +covering her eyes with one hand. + +“Why? You ask me why?” he inquired, unconsciously repeating her own +words. “I will tell you, Emolyn. My poor boy, my poor Lonny, with his +last words, before sailing on that fatal voyage—committed you to my +charge—telling me that when he should return from his voyage he meant to +claim you for his wife.” + +A low moan of pain escaped the lips of the lady, but she made no +comment. + +“Ah, Emolyn, would to Heaven I had paid that heed to his words which I +afterward, but too late, found they deserved! But how could I have +known?” + +“How, indeed? You knew nothing. Do not reproach yourself,” breathed the +lady in low, almost inaudible tones. + +“But I ought to have known, or inquired, or discovered! Emolyn, child! +what was the meaning of the pleading eyes you used to raise to mine when +I would pass you in leaving Green Point, after a visit to your +bed-ridden uncle? Tell me, dear! Tell me!” + +“It were bootless to tell you now what I had not the courage to tell +then,” she replied. + +“And I—hard, cold and blind that I was, I never encouraged you to open +your heart to me, although I had promised my poor boy to watch over +you,” groaned the commodore. + +“Do not reproach yourself,” she repeated. “I might never have been able +to confide in any man.” + +“Yet I should have drawn your secret from you, Emolyn! Tell me now, I +conjure! In the name of the dead, I conjure you, tell me, were you the +wife of my son?” solemnly demanded the veteran. + +She paused a moment and then answered in a low, distinct voice: + +“I was.” + +The commodore dropped his gray head upon his open hands and groaned +aloud. + +“I thought so! I thought so! But not until it was too late! Not until +you had passed out of my reach and knowledge entirely. Oh, child! If +only you had confided in me, what sorrow would have been saved!” + +“He wished to do so as soon as we were married, for boy as he was, he +had a man’s intelligent and delicate sense of honor. He wished to do so, +but I was afraid to consent. We were married nearly a month before he +sailed; and every day he pleaded with me to let him confess his +marriage; but the very idea of doing so frightened and distressed me so +much that he would yield the point.” + +“Fatal timidity on your side—fatal compliance on his!” sighed the +commodore. + +“I told you just now not to reproach yourself. I beg you now not to +reproach me, for I have already suffered the bitter fruits of my +cowardice, nor _him_, for he has passed beyond our judgment,” solemnly +replied Emolyn. + +“My child, I am not reproaching—I am only lamenting!” + +“That, too, is vain.” + +“I know it; yet, oh, how differently all this might have ended had he +but confessed your marriage even at the last moment!” + +“He was in honor bound to me _not_ to do so. At the very last moment he +implored me to release him from his promise and allow him to tell you +and his mother and leave me under your protection. But I was afraid to +consent and sent him away sorrowing.” + +“Poor boy! Poor boy! Yet he did what he could. He _did_ invoke my +protection for you, Emolyn, although he was not permitted to use the +argument that would have bound you to us by owning you as his wife. Ah, +what a misfortune!” + +“But I must tell you what more he did, that you may know how thoughtful, +how loving, how earnest he was. On the last night he stayed in his own +home he spent the hours which should have been given to sleep in writing +a long letter of confession to you, telling you all the circumstances +attending our marriage, and invoking your pardon of him and protection +of me. This letter he inclosed in one to me, in which he besought me to +seek your presence at once; or, if I could not summon courage to do so, +at least to keep the inclosed letter carefully, so that I might be able +to present it to you in case I should ever stand in need of your +friendship——” + +“Where is that letter? Where? Why, oh, why, my child, did you never +deliver it to me?” impetuously demanded the commodore. + +“At first I was afraid. Afterward, when the greater terror overcame the +less, I looked for my precious parcel and could not find it. My cabinet +had been rifled of that and of all my correspondence—of everything, +indeed, that could have afforded the slightest circumstantial evidence +to the truth of my marriage.” + +“Who was the thief? Who?” indignantly demanded the veteran. + +“I have no positive knowledge, and I have no right to speak of my +suspicions,” replied Emolyn. + +“Oh, my child! If, even without those proofs, you could have summoned +resolution to have come to me and told the whole story!” sighed +Commodore Bruce. + +“Are you sure that you would have believed me? Yet at one time I had +resolved to make a full disclosure of my relations to you.” + +“I wish to Heaven you had; but when was that? Was it when you used to +watch for me in the hall and look at me with large, wistful eyes as I +passed out?” + +“Oh, no; it was after you had gone away. I had been plunged in despair +by the news of my husband’s sudden death; but it was not until I +knew—what, in my ignorance, I was long in knowing—that I should become a +mother, and the fate of an innocent being would depend upon mine, I was +inspired with the courage to desperation and resolved to go away with my +faithful nurse to her relatives and stay with them until my child’s +arrival and your return, and then, if the babe lived, to take it to you +and tell it was your son’s child, and that I, its mother, was your son’s +widow.” + +“I wish to Heaven you had done so.” + +“I should have carried out my resolution if the fatal catastrophe had +not fallen so suddenly upon me. Then after the death of my child and the +shameful accusation——Oh, I cannot speak of this!” exclaimed Emolyn, +breaking off and dropping her head upon her hands. + +“I know—I know,” murmured the commodore in deep emotion—“you acted with +the heroism and self-devotion of your race and nature. You refused, even +for your own preservation and vindication, to tell your real story and +bring our name into the trial.” + +“Yet without it I was acquitted and vindicated by all but by myself.” + +“How, Emolyn, how? What do you mean, my child?” inquired the old man in +distress. + +“I know not—oh, I know not what happened that horrible night!” she +gasped with a shudder. + +“You were irresponsible. You are free from reproach.” + +“Oh, let us not talk of it! The thought—the doubt—has made me a vagabond +and wanderer on the face of the earth, trying to hide from the world, to +fly from myself. Oh, let us not talk of it! Let us talk of something +else!” She shivered and buried her face in her hands. + +They were both painfully silent for a few moments. + +At length Emolyn raised her head and spoke: + +“Commodore Bruce——” + +“My dear,” said the old man. + +“I did not come here with any intention of telling you my secret, nor +should I ever have told you if you had not asked me the direct +question.” + +“I only asked you, Emolyn, that I might receive confirmation of my own +convictions. I am glad and grateful that you came to see me and gave me +the opportunity of making inquiries that have brought out the truth.” + +“Yet I should never have had the hardihood to leave my seclusion after +all these years if it had not been for one in whom I take a deep +interest. I mean my little namesake, Emolyn Palmer, whose acquaintance I +have recently made.” + +“Ah!” exclaimed the commodore. + +“I am aware that you know her quite well.” + +“Oh, yes; she passed a week here—a very interesting young person. She +might have had a permanent home with us if it hadn’t been for the folly +of my nephew Ronald in fancying he had fallen in love with her.” + +“It is of that ‘folly’ I have come to speak to you. It does not seem to +me to be folly, but an honest, manly, faithful love, likely to last his +lifetime,” said Emolyn earnestly. + +“I am very sorry to hear you say that. I trust in Heaven, for his sake, +that it is not true,” gravely replied the old man. + +“What is your objection to Emolyn Palmer as the wife of your nephew?” + +“Objection? My dear lady, how can you ask? My objection is not a +particular but a general one.” + +“She is beautiful.” + +“Yes.” + +“She is graceful.” + +“Certainly.” + +“Amiable and irreproachable in character.” + +“Quite so.” + +“Intelligent and fairly educated.” + +“She is all that.” + +“And is she not sincerely attached to your nephew and yourself, and +beloved by both?” + +“Yes, it is true.” + +“And are not all these qualities that you would desire to find in the +chosen bride of Ronald Bruce?” + +“Yes, my dear lady—all these qualities are to be desired, but they are +not all that are to be expected in my nephew’s wife.” + +“What else would you have, you exacting man?” + +“Wealth and a good social position,” curtly replied the commodore. + +“Emolyn Palmer shall have both,” said the lady quietly. + +“Eh! Emolyn Palmer have wealth and social position? How is that +possible? You dream, my child!” + +“Yes, I do dream, and I mean to realize my dream. The child, Emolyn +Palmer, has interested me more than any person or anything that I have +met with for the last seventeen years. I feel my heart so drawn out +toward her that I begin to believe in the possibility of happiness in +this life even for me, through her! For her sake I have come to see you. +I told you that in addition to all her personal attractions, she should +have the necessary ones of wealth and social position. Wealth I will +give her. I have no children nor near relatives to share my fortune. I +will, therefore, give my little namesake a marriage portion that shall +make her the equal in fortune to any young lady in this State. Her +marriage will give her the social position that is required, for the +wife takes rank from her husband. Thus Emolyn Palmer shall have wealth +and position added to all her personal attractions. Will you now consent +to the engagement of these lovers?” earnestly inquired the lady. + +The commodore waved his thin white hand to and fro, as if gently putting +away her arguments, as he replied: + +“My dearest young friend, that is all benevolent sophistry. I do not +wish my nephew’s wife to owe her rank to her husband’s family alone. A +beggar girl might do that. No, _good birth_, even before wealth or +personal attractions, is what I desire and insist upon in the wife of +Ronald. And let me tell you, my dear and gentle Emolyn, that this and +all other desirable attributes are to be found in the lady I long ago +selected for him—Hermia, my niece. They are indeed my co-heirs, and they +must marry. There, my dear, there is my decision. And now, my Emolyn, +you have known me of old. You know that when my judgment has decided any +course of action to be the right one no power on earth can move me to +alter.” + +“I know! I know! That is the reason why I feared you so, and shrank from +confessing my marriage to you until it was too late. Do not fear. I +shall not continue to importune you, Commodore Bruce,” said the lady in +a tone of pain. + +“Do not be vexed with me, Emolyn, my child. It is inexpressibly +distressing to me to be obliged to place myself in opposition to you on +any subject at this our first reunion after so long and hopeless a +separation. Believe me, dear, I appreciate the benevolence of your +actions, which is in perfect keeping with the tenor of your whole life. +I approve your kind intentions toward this young girl with only one +exception——” + +“The only vital one,” murmured Emolyn. + +“Be as kind to her as your good heart dictates in all things. Give her +the advantages of wealth and a higher culture. She deserves them, and +will put them to good use. Do all you please for her, my dear; but do +not torment yourself or me by trying to bring about a marriage between +Ronald Bruce and the overseer’s daughter.” + +“Fear no importunity from me, sir. I shall not recur to the subject +again in your presence,” said the lady in the same tone of pain. + +“Now I fear that I have angered you, Emolyn.” + +“Oh, no, not angered, only disappointed me,” she replied. + +Then rising and gathering her India shawl about her, she held out her +hand and said: + +“I wish you good-morning, sir.” + +“What? Going? You are not going so early?” + +“Thanks; but I must.” + +“At least stay to lunch?” + +“Much obliged; but it is impossible.” + +“Let me then introduce you to the ladies of my family. My niece and her +daughter will be happy to see you.” + +“Not for the world. I came not out of my grave to make a fashionable +call. I came to fulfil a mission, which has failed. Let me go in peace.” + +“But, my dear, your cousins—Mrs. and Miss Ward—are here, my guests. Let +me send for them and make known your presence,” said the commodore, +reaching his hand for the bell. + +But the lady’s hand quickly arrested his. + +“No, on your salvation!” she cried in great excitement. “Not for a +thousand worlds! Oh, stop! _Nothing_ should ever induce me to meet +Malvina Warde! _Never_ could I bear to look upon her—her, the cause of +all my sorrows—my enemy—my destroyer!” + +“Well, well, my dear, you shall not see her! She is no great favorite of +mine, although she is unhappily my guest. Calm yourself, Emolyn. Sit +down and let me offer you a glass of wine. Do.” + +“Thanks, no—nothing. I shall only trouble your boatmen to take me back +to the island.” + +“They are at your orders, Emolyn,” said the old man, once more +approaching his hand to the bell. + +Again she arrested his motion as she said: + +“One moment. I had nearly forgotten an important point. But the mere +mention of that woman so maddens me that I forget everything else for +the time being! Commodore Bruce, what I must say and to impress upon you +is this—that I do not wish my name mentioned, or my existence revealed +to any human being, either in this house or out of it. Like Noah’s weary +dove, I have folded my wings to rest in peace in the ark of my island. +But the same day that reveals my name and identity to this neighborhood +sees me go forth again a homeless wanderer over the face of the earth!” + +“I will keep your secret, my poor, morbid Emolyn; but—Ronald and Willet, +who know who you are?” + +“I can trust them as I trust myself.” + +“Then you are safe.” + +“Now please ring the bell and order the boat for me.” + +“Certainly. I may come to see you at your ‘Island of Calm Delights?’” + +“Yes, I shall always welcome you.” + +Again the old man approached his hand to the bell; but he was again +prevented from ringing it. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXI + A STARTLING VISITOR + + Much in the stranger’s mien appears + To justify suspicious fears. + On his dark face a scorching clime, + And toil, hath done the work of time— + Roughened his brow, his temples bared. + And sable hairs with silver shared; + Yet left—what age alone could tame— + The lip of pride, the eye of flame. + The lip that terror never blenched, + The eye where teardrop never quenched + The flash severe of swarthy glow + That scorned pain and mocked at woe. + WALTER SCOTT. + + +The interruption proceeded from the voice of the hall footman, saying in +a rather insolent tone: + +“Well, then, you can step in here, my man! There is no one in here, and +you can go in here and wait till I go and tell my master that you want +to see him,” adding in a lower tone: “There’s nothing in there he can +steal, I reckon, ’cept ’tis some moldy old books.” + +The door was thrown open, and while the steps of the footman were heard +retreating a most disreputable-looking tramp entered the study and stood +boldly up before the party therein. + +Now while the commodore and the lady are gazing in stupefied +astonishment at this impudent intruder, I will endeavor to describe him. + +He was a tall, dark, gaunt man, whose long, thin, swarthy face was +hedged in by a wild, neglected thicket of grizzled black hair and beard, +and whose fierce, burning black eyes were overhung by thick, shaggy +black brows. He wore an old suit of clothes that might have once been of +any color, but was now of none; around his neck a dingy woolen scarf; on +his feet a pair of broken shoes; in his hand a torn hat. He was +altogether a wayworn, travel-strained, dilapidated and dangerous-looking +customer, such as one would not like to meet on a dark night or on a +deserted road. + +The commodore regarded him wrathfully, frowningly—the lady, curiously, +wistfully. + +“Who in the demon are you? What jail have you broken out of? And what in +the fiend’s name do you want here?” sternly demanded the veteran; while +the lady leaned forward, gazing on the man with a strange, intense and +breathless interest. + +“Good heavens! Do you not know me, then?” demanded the poor tramp in a +voice full of anguish. + +“No! Never saw you in all the days of my life before, and never wish to +see you again! Begone!” exclaimed the veteran; while the lady half arose +from her seat, stared at the stranger with eyes that widened and widened +in amazement, with lips breathlessly apart and color coming and going +rapidly. + +“Did you not get my letter, written from Marseilles, then?” inquired the +stranger. + +“What in the demon’s name are you talking about? You are drunk, man, or +mad! Leave the house instantly!” exclaimed the irate old gentleman, +starting up as if he would have ejected the intruder by main force, had +he been strong enough. + +“Oh, my soul! my soul! Do _you_ not know me—Lynny?” pleaded the +wanderer, turning his wild, sad, prayerful eyes on the intense, +listening, breathless, eager face of the lady. + +The question broke the spell that bound her. + +“SAVED!” she cried, and her piercing shriek rang through and through the +house as she started up, threw herself into the arms of the tramp and +fainted dead away. + +The sight and sound, but not the meaning, of this action met the dulled +senses of the aged veteran. + +Starting to his feet in a fury, he thundered forth: + +“What in the demon do you mean, you cursed villain, by breaking into +this room and frightening a lady into fits? Lay her down on that sofa +this instant, and don’t presume to touch her again! Leave the house! +Begone! If you stop another second, Satan burn you! I’ll send you to the +county jail for six months! I’m in the commission of the peace, and I’ll +do it!” + +“Yes. I had best go for the present. She has fainted. Call her women to +her,” said the tramp in a gentle tone, as he laid his burden down with +tender care upon the sofa. + +“If you don’t take yourself out of this room in double-quick time, you +tramping thief, you’ll find yourself in a pair of handcuffs on the road +to prison before you know it!” roared the commodore, as he seized and +jerked the bell rope violently. + +But the sad wanderer had already left the study. + +The commodore continued to ring the bell furiously, peal upon peal, +until the hall footman rushed in with alarm. + +“Go after that tramping vagabond and kick him out of the house! Then +call all the dogs and set them on him and hunt him off the premises! Do +you hear?” + +“Yes, sir,” replied the man as he went out, dismayed, to give place to +Wren, the little page, whom the violent ringing of the bell had also +brought to the scene. + +“WATER!” cried the commodore, who was now engaged in trying to recover +the fainting woman. + +The boy vanished and soon reappeared with a silver pitcher and goblet. + +The commodore poured some on his hand and threw it in the face of the +lady and waited for the effect, but she showed no sign of consciousness. + +“Brandy! From the beaufet! In the library!” he cried in growing alarm. + +The page ran away and soon re-entered with a decanter and glass. + +The commodore poured out a little of the brandy, and, holding up the +head of the helpless woman, tried to force a few drops between her lips, +but the liquid only tippled over the surface. + +“I don’t know what on earth to do for her! She forbid me to call the +ladies to see her before she fainted, and it seems hardly fair to do so +now that she cannot defend herself! And I don’t know how to recover her, +not I!” cried the commodore in despair. Then turning furiously on the +footman, who had re-entered the study, he demanded: + +“Did you do as I ordered? Did you kick that vagrant out and set the dogs +on him?” + +“Yes, sir,” replied the man, unhesitatingly telling a fib, for he had +not sought for the poor tramp with any such cruel intention, as was +afterward proved. + +“Served him right! Glad to hear it!” grunted the old man, as he +recommenced his efforts to recover his patient, but in vain. Suddenly he +remembered the presence of the physician in the house, and wondered he +had not thought of him before. + +“Go and ask Dr. Willet to be kind enough to step here immediately,” he +said. + +“If you please, sir, Dr. Willet has gone out,” said the footman. + +“Gone out! the deuce! How unlucky! Where has he gone?” + +“If you please, sir, to the Wilderness Manor-house. Mr. John Palmer he +came all in a hurry for de doctor, sir, to go to the ageable old woman +what is dying dere and wants to see the doctor afore she goes, which dey +don’t think she can last another day, sir.” + +“How very unfortunate!” exclaimed the old man, who never ceased from his +ineffectual efforts to recover his patient. “I do not know where to +turn! She will die, and all on account of that cursed tramp!” Then +bursting forth like a storm upon the head of the footman, he violently +demanded: + +“And what did _you_ mean, you rascal, by sending that ruffian in here to +frighten this poor lady to death? Yes, to _death_, you villain! And when +she dies I’ll have you hanged for murder! I will, by my life! Why don’t +you answer me, you scoundrel? What did you mean by showing that burglar, +that robber, that cut-throat, into this room to kill this lady?” + +“’Deed, ’deed, I ’elare to my Judge, marster, I never knowed nobody was +in here, which dere almost never is nobody in here; and I didn’t know +nothing about the lady wisiter, as she must a-come on along of Dr. +Willet or Lieutenant Bruce, ’cause I didn’t let her in myself and didn’t +know nothing about it, sir; and likewise thought as you was in the +libery. And as for the tramp, sir, he did say as he wanted to speak to +you werry particular, to bring you news of a long-absent friend——” + +“An excuse to beg! An excuse to beg! Or to swindle! Or to extort money! +What did the ruffian call himself?” + +“He ’clined to give no name, sir, but said how you’d know him when you +seed him.” + +“An impudent liar! I never set eyes on him before. I wish I had +committed him!” exclaimed the old man, who was all this time diligently +chafing the temples of the unconscious woman with hartshorn. + +“So I just put him in here to wait, sir, where I thought there wa’n’t +nobody sitting, nor likewise nothing to steal, ’cept ’twas them old, +worm-eaten books in the old screwter.” + +“Worm-eaten books, you villain! My precious blackletter copies of the +early Christian fathers? If the thief had gone off with any of them, +your hide should have paid for it! Oh, Heaven! No change in her yet! I +_must_ have woman’s help here,” said the commodore, breaking off in his +abuse of the servant and attentively regarding the marble face below +him. “See here, sir! Go and ask my sister to come here immediately! +Don’t alarm her, you rascal! Don’t say a word about the fainting lady! +Just deliver my message.” + +The footman, glad to escape, hurried out of the room to obey this order. + +While he was gone the old man continued to chafe the temples or beat the +hands of his patient and groan over her and curse the tramp. + +In a few minutes the widowed sister came in, saying pleasantly: + +“Did you want me, brother?” Then seeing the motionless form of a woman +extended on the sofa, she started and exclaimed: “Who is that?” + +“Come here, Margaret. Don’t scream nor cry, nor above all, don’t faint. +One fainting woman is as much as I can get along with at one time,” said +the commodore, taking his sister by the arm and leading her to the sofa. + +“But who is this lady? What ails her? How came she here?” inquired the +puzzled woman, bending over the unconscious form. + +“Don’t you recognize her? Look again,” said the old man uneasily. + +“No, I do not,” replied the lady, after a careful scrutiny. + +“I believe you are right; for now I come to think of it, you never met +her.” + +“But who is she?” + +The old man hesitated for one weak moment, and then loyally answered: + +“This lady is Emolyn Bruce, the widow of my poor, dear Lonny.” + +The widow’s brown eyes opened wide in amazement as she answered in a +low, frightened voice: + +“I never knew that Leonidas had been married!” + +“_I_ did! I knew it long ago; but I had good reason to suppose that his +poor young wife had not long survived his loss. She has reappeared, +however, I thank Heaven! And here she lies, fainting, dying, for aught I +know. Margaret, dear woman, don’t stop to ask another question, but help +me to save her!” anxiously exclaimed the old man. + +Controlling the extreme curiosity awakened by the situation, the lady +knelt by the side of the sofa and began to loosen the sufferer’s clothes +to facilitate breathing. + +“She must be got to bed at once. The parlor chamber happens to be in +order. We will convey her there. Ring for two women to come and help to +lift her,” were the first words with which the widow broke the silence. + +The commodore complied with this direction, and then came back to the +side of his sister, saying: + +“For Heaven’s sake, Margaret, let all be done tenderly and very quietly. +There must not be a nine days’ wonder created in the house.” + +“Of course not. I should deprecate such a state of things as much as you +could.” + +“And, Margaret, you have a heart. I need not, therefore, beg you to be +very gentle with this suffering girl when she recovers her +consciousness.” + +“Be sure that I will treat her as I would treat my own child,” said the +widow, and her sympathetic face confirmed the truth of her words. + +“Go and send Dorcas and Lydia here,” said the commodore to the little +page who appeared in answer to the bell. + +The child ran on his errand, and two strong colored women made their +appearance. + +Under the lady’s instructions Emolyn Bruce was tenderly lifted and +conveyed to the parlor chamber, where she was undressed, clothed in a +white wrapper and put to bed. + +The old commodore, who had followed the party to the chamber door +without daring to enter, hovered on the outside, waiting for news. + +In a few minutes, however, his sister opened the door and beckoned him +to come in. + +She led him to the side of the bed, where Emolyn lay as white and +motionless as a marble effigy on a marble tomb. + +“I wish to consult you, brother,” whispered the widow, as they stood +together looking down on the beautiful pale face before them. + +“Do you think there is any danger, Margaret?” anxiously inquired the +veteran. + +“No, for I have known women to lay in fainting fits much longer than +this and recover without injury; but her breath scarcely dims the glass +held to her lips, and her pulse is scarcely perceptible; and I think you +had better call Dr. Willet.” + +“The deuce of it all is that Willet has gone to the Wilderness +Manor-house to see that old paralytic. He could not be brought back +before night, when he will come back of his own accord. Meanwhile what +_shall_ we do, Margaret?” + +“Use the means within our reach and wait the issue. It must have been +some terrible shock that threw her into this state. May I _now_ inquire +what it was, brother? You need not tell me if you do not wish to,” said +the widow. + +“It was a cursed tramp!—a black-visaged, red-eyed, elflocked cut-throat, +who looked like a fiend from the Inferno, with all the sulphurous smoke +and fire hanging around him! I wish I had a hand on him now! I’d break +his diabolical neck and send him back to Tartarus, where he belongs!” +wrathfully exclaimed the commodore. + +“Hush! She moves, I think,” said the lady; and both watchers bent +eagerly over the entranced form. + +But they were mistaken. She did not move, nor, though her attendants +continued their efforts to recover her, did she show any sign of +consciousness until nearly an hour had passed away. + +When at length she sighed and stirred, Dorcas raised her head while the +lady placed a glass of wine to her lips so that she mechanically +swallowed the stimulant. + +Revived by the wine, she opened her eyes, sat up in bed and gazed around +in confusion for a moment. + +Then a paroxysm of sadness seemed to sweep over her. She pressed her +hands upon her eyes, upon her brows, upon her temples, pushed back her +hair and stared around with starting orbs and open mouth, and then +suddenly shrieked forth: + +“Where is he? Oh, where is he? Where? Where?” + +“He is gone, my dear. Don’t be afraid. Calm yourself. It is all right,” +answered the commodore soothingly; for he thought her excitement was +caused by revived terror of the tramp. + +At the words of the old man she turned her wildly roving eyes on him +with an intense stare of astonishment. + +“Gone! Gone! Did you say gone? Oh, _where_, has he gone? _Why_ did you +let him go?” she cried with frantic eagerness. + +“I wish I hadn’t. I wish I had committed him to prison, only there +wasn’t sufficient grounds. But don’t be frightened. Compose yourself, my +dear. You are just as safe from him as if he was in prison. He will +never come back to bother us, after being kicked out the house by the +servant and hunted off the land by the dogs!” said the commodore, laying +his hand tenderly on the head of the excited woman, who had not for one +instant ceased to rave. + +But she dashed it off, fiercely exclaiming: + +“Oh, you cruel, ruthless, remorseless man! I feared you would do so! I +feared you would! _That’s why I never told you!_ Why he could never +persuade me to tell you, you wicked, vindictive man——” + +“She is hysterical, she does not know what she says,” said the widow, +while Emolyn continued to rave in growing excitement. + +“She is delirious, quite so! I wish Willet would return,” sighed the +commodore. + +“I am _not_ delirious! It is _you_ who are mad with hatred and +revenge—unnatural, monstrous hatred and revenge, after all these years! +Go bring him back! If he had been the prodigal son, you should have +received him! But he was no prodigal! Not even a prodigal! And you +turned him out! You hunted him off! Go bring him back! Go bring him back +if you wish to escape perdition!” she continued to cry in what seemed to +her attendants a frenzy of insanity. + +“You see she had been talking about her husband when this cut-throat +ruffian came in and frightened her into fits, and now she has got all +mixed up in her impressions,” whispered the commodore, while the excited +woman continued to rave in the same strain without a moment’s cessation. + +“This _must_ be stopped. I shall give her a dose of morphia,” whispered +his sister; and she rose and left the room for the expressed purpose. + +And Emolyn raved on, bitterly reproaching the commodore. + +“Mad people always fly in the faces of their best friends,” said the old +man, as he continued his efforts to calm the frantic woman. + +The widow returned, bringing a small glass of port wine, with which she +had mixed a dose of morphia. + +“Here, my poor girl, drink this and compose yourself,” she said in her +gentlest and most persuasive tones, as she held the glass to Emolyn’s +lips. + +“If I do, will you send at once and bring him back?” demanded Emolyn, +fixing her wild, excited, pleading eyes on the face of the lady. + +“_Indeed I will_,” she answered. + +“Because he can go with me to the island, where we will live like Adam +and Eve in Eden—_without the serpent_.” + +“So you shall, my dear, _if you wish_,” said the lady. + +Emolyn took the glass, drank the contents and threw herself back on the +pillow. + +In a few moments she was quiet, in a few more she was asleep. + +“Now,” said the lady, “you must send and seek that tramp and have him +brought back to the house.” + +“In the name of Heaven, _why_?” demanded the commodore. + +“First, because I promised, and I will not break a promise, even when it +is given to humor a delirious patient; and, secondly, because I do think +_there is more in this than appears_,” replied the lady. + +“What should there be in it?” + +“I don’t know. But find the man and bring him here.” + +The commodore expostulated and swore. + +The lady persisted and gained her point. + +The order was given and the servants started on their quest. + +Emolyn slept on, hour after hour watched by the widow. + +The servants returned from their long and careful search with the news +that the tramp could not be found. + +“Why are you so anxious to have that ruffian brought back?” demanded the +provoked commodore of his sister, as they stood together beside the +sleeper. + +“I have told you the reason,” said the lady—“that Emolyn shall be +satisfied.” + + + + + CHAPTER XXXII + THE TRAMP’S STORY + + Of most disastrous chances, + Of moving accidents by flood and field, + Of being taken by the insolent foe + And sold to slavery. + SHAKESPEARE. + + +“Better so,” sighed the poor tramp to himself, as, when ejected from the +study, he paused in the front hall, which happened for the moment to be +deserted. “Yes, better so. I came too suddenly upon them, and they had +not got my letter. I did not mean to shock them so; but what did that +blundering negro mean by springing me upon them in that startling +manner? He told me there was no one in the study. Well, possibly he +thought so. It can’t be helped now. I must be patient, though it seems +harder to wait minutes now than it was to wait years in the hopeless +past.” + +Then instead of leaving the house, as the commodore had peremptorily +commanded him to do, the “cut-throat” threw himself down into a chair, +dropped his hat by his side, and stretched out his limbs with the air of +a man who meant to remain and make himself at home, while he continued +his mental soliloquy: + +“The man I met on the road and questioned about the family told me there +was an old Dr. Willet on a visit here—our old family physician, of +course. If I could only catch sight of him now and make myself known, I +could procure a decent suit of clothes before presenting myself to any +one else. But would he recognize me? ‘Ay, there’s the rub.’ The old man +did not; but then his sight is dimmed by age. Ah, he has grown very aged +since I saw him last—more aged even than his years would warrant—not in +temper, though! Whew! what a fury he was in when he turned me out! He +would have hurled a chair at me and broken my head if I had hesitated +another moment! It was hard to go and leave her fainting there, but I +know to have stayed would have made matters so much worse, even for her. +How lovely she looked! Yet colorless as marble, with the traces of +sorrow on her beautiful face! _She_ recognized me, my love! my +own——Hallo, who comes here? Some one who will make me welcome or show me +the door?” asked the tramp to himself as he saw a white-haired old +gentleman slowly descending the stairs. + +“It is Dr. Willet! He has grown gray since I saw him last, but I should +know that eagle’s beak of a nose of his anywhere under the sun. I’ll +stop him.” + +The good physician was about to pass the stranger with a kindly nod when +the latter accosted him: + +“Dr. Willet.” + +“Well, my friend, what can I do for you?” inquired the kind-hearted +physician, very naturally supposing that his professional services were +required by some poor patient. And he stopped. + +“Sir,” said the tramp very gravely, “I wish you, if you please, to look +at me well and tell me if you remember me.” + +The doctor, surprised and puzzled by this address, looked long and +wistfully into the face of the stranger, first to see if he could +recognize him, secondly to see if he was mad or drunk. + +“Well?” queried the tramp in an anxious tone. + +“As far as I can recollect, I never met you in my life before; though I +may have done so in some hospital, where in many years I have treated +many transient patients. Was it there I made your acquaintance?” +inquired the doctor. + +“No, I was never in a hospital since I was born, and I was never a +patient of yours, doctor—though, indeed, I believe you were the very +first to introduce me to my nearest relations and friends on the +occasion of my first appearance in this world, some thirty-five years +ago,” said the tramp, with a gleam of that native, irrepressible humor +which years of servitude and sorrow had not been able to extinguish. + +The doctor looked at him long and seriously, and then said: + +“I am responsible for many such introductions, my friend; though I +cannot be expected to remember the faces of all to whom I officiated as +gentleman usher. But you appear to be in need. Tell me how I can best +help you and I will do so willingly.” + +“I am no invalid and no beggar, Dr. Willet! I ask only for recognition. +I can command everything else,” said the tatterdemalion, drawing himself +up with dignity. + +“Lord bless my soul alive!” exclaimed the astonished and bewildered +doctor, as he put on his spectacles and looked again at this _strange_ +stranger, who looked like a gypsy and talked like a king. + +The tramp bore the scrutiny well. + +“Come nearer the light, sir,” he said, moving toward the open, sunny +back door. + +“Can’t you tell me who you are at once, man? Only mention your name, and +if I ever heard if before it will bring you to my memory,” said Dr. +Willet, as he followed him. + +“No, sir; I must not name myself to you. I wish _you_ to do that first. +I wish to test your memory and prove my own identity. Come, sir, I will +stand facing the open door. You will please place yourself in the most +favorable position and examine my features under the full light of the +sun.” + +“Lord bless my soul alive, what does it all mean?” again exclaimed Dr. +Willet, as he planted himself within two feet of the stranger, adjusted +his glasses and stared at him. + +“Now, sir, be kind enough to look in my eyes, for they change least of +all. And while you do so, I may prompt your memory a little——” + +“I am perplexed, but not in despair,” murmured the doctor to himself. + +“You knew me from infancy to manhood. Then you lost sight of me,” +continued the tramp. + +“Lord—have——” slowly began the doctor, but the words died on his lips as +he stared with reviving recollection of the speaker. + +“I am the son of one of the oldest and dearest of your friends——” + +“Mercy on——” + +“Missing for many years——” + +“Our souls!” + +“Falsely supposed to have been lost at sea——” + +“YOU ARE LONNY BRUCE!” cried the doctor, reeling back as if he had been +shot. + +“Yes, I am Lonny Bruce! Now don’t _you_ go and faint—that’s a good +fellow! Brace up!” exclaimed the tramp, with half a laugh. + +“Lon—ny Bruce!” reiterated the doctor, as he leaned against the wall +which had stopped him in his backward reel—“Lon—ny Bruce! And you are +really alive?” + +“I rather think I am; but are _you really_ sure you recognize me? +Because, you see, if you want any of the proofs usually required on such +occasions—the ripe strawberry on my breast, or the tattooed anchor on my +back, or any other birthmark or branded scar, why, it will be very +awkward, for I haven’t such a thing about me—no, not even so much as a +mole. Nature and Fortune left all that out. So it is extremely important +that you should be able to identify me without their help. Are you sure +you know me now?” + +“Yes; I should know you among a thousand,” replied the doctor, who, +still leaning for support against the wall, continued to stare at the +returned exile. + +“Could you swear to me if called upon to do so?” + +“On a stack of Bibles as high as the Pyramids of Egypt.” + +“One will do,” said Lonny. + +“But how did you escape? Where have you been these seventeen years? Why +didn’t you come home long ago or write? Have you seen your father?” + +“Whist! Whist! for Heaven’s sake! To answer a tithe of your questions, +doctor, would keep me here all day long. Now that you see and know me, +you must perceive that I am in want of everything and everything else. +First and most of all a bath, a barber and a clean shirt. I must be +metamorphosed into a Christian before I present myself again to my old +father, when, it is to be hoped, he will acknowledge his son. And then +in good time, dear friend, I will satisfy your curiosity. Oh! you shall +hear a story as long and as full of adventure as the Arabian Nights +Entertainments! Oh, what a fireside treat you will have this winter if +you stay with us! But come. Are you going to help me?” + +The doctor, who had been thinking profoundly while the returned man +spoke, now looked up and asked: + +“Why not go to your father just as you are?” + +“Like the prodigal son! Lord bless you, so I did! But the old gentleman +didn’t fall on my neck and kiss me worth a cent! He didn’t know me from +the king of the Cannibal Islands! He stormed and threatened me with the +constable and a prison if I did not march double-quick! I obeyed him and +an instinct of self-preservation and left the room. To have remained +another minute would have been unwholesome.” + +“Ah! if I were blind, I should know you now for Lonny Bruce! Should know +you from that buoyancy of spirit that no misfortune could repress,” said +the doctor. + +“Thanks, but I want my father to know me,” said the tramp. + +“Very well, I will try to help you. Come with me,” said the doctor; and +he led the way to the long drawing-room, which was now closed and vacant +and never opened or tenanted except on “high days and holidays.” + +“Come in here, where no one will think of intruding on you, and remain +while I go in search of your Cousin Ronald,” said the doctor, as he +opened the door and preceded the stranger into the apartment. + +“My Cousin Ronald! What! The little lad I left in the schoolroom when I +went to sea? Is he in the house?” inquired Lonny, with a gleam of +delight in his dark eyes, as he entered the room and dropped into the +nearest easy-chair. + +“Yes; but he is not a little lad now, by any manner of means! He is even +a bigger lad than you, if anything. I will send him to you at once. He +will take you to his room and attend to all your wants. Unluckily, +Lonny, I must leave you.” + +“Must you? I am sorry. I would like the circle of friends to be complete +to-day,” said Leonidas with a look of disturbance. + +“Why, so should I; but I am called to an old patient of mine who is +lying dangerously ill at the Wilderness Manor-house. At the moment you +stopped me I was even then on my way to join the messenger who was +waiting in his wagon to take me away.” + +“Oh, indeed, I see that you have no time to spare; so don’t let me +detain you,” said the young man with visible reluctance. + +“No, not a moment more even to bestow on such a joyful arrival as yours. +Lord bless my soul! how strange all this is! I never was so unwilling to +obey a professional call in my life. However, I will dispatch Ronald to +you immediately.” + +So saying the good doctor hurried out of the drawing-room and upstairs +to the private apartment of Lieutenant Bruce. + +Time being too precious to permit much ceremony, he entered without +knocking, and found the young gentleman sitting at his table absorbed in +writing a letter—to Em., most likely, as he was so deeply engaged as not +to be disturbed even by the bustling entrance of the old physician. + +“LIEUTENANT!” exclaimed the latter. + +“Well, doctor,” cried the young man, starting to his feet. “What news? +Has the lady succeeded in bringing my uncle to reason?” + +“The lady is still with your uncle, I believe, though I don’t know. But +I haven’t come about your sweetheart, Ronald, but about something of +more pressing importance; and I haven’t time to break the news, so you +must brace yourself at once for a severe shock. Are you braced?” + +“Yes,” answered the young man, turning white as death and setting his +teeth firmly; for he knew not what disastrous stroke he was to be called +upon to bear. “Yes, I am ready.” + +“Now, then, think of Alexander Selkirk, Robinson Crusoe, La Parouse, +Captain John Riley, the Swiss Family Robinson, the four Russian Sailors, +the——” + +“In the name of Heaven, man, speak!” exclaimed the lieutenant. + +“—And Lonny Bruce! there, it’s out!” said the doctor. + +“What in the world do you mean?” demanded the young officer, wondering +if the staid old physician, for the first time in his life, had taken a +glass too much. + +“Haven’t I told you? Lonny Bruce has come home.” + +“WHAT!” cried Ronald, starting to his feet. + +“Lonny Bruce, so long supposed to have been lost at sea, has come home, +safe and sound, as many a missing man has done before him!” repeated the +doctor. + +Ronald stared as if his eyes would have started from their sockets. + +“Do you hear me? Can’t you take it in yet? I tell you Lonny Bruce has +come home! He is in this house at this present time; I have seen him and +spoken with him.” + +“Do I——” + +“Yes, you do. You hear exactly right!” exclaimed the doctor, impatiently +interrupting the bewildered speaker. “You are not dreaming nor are you +mad; neither am I! You are wide awake and in your right mind, and so am +I who tell you all this strange news. Now listen, Ronald Bruce, for I +have got to hurry off to old Nancy Whitlock, who is in extremity. John +Palmer has been waiting to take me to the Wilderness in his wagon for +half an hour or more, so I have no time for further explanation. Lonny +Bruce is below. No one except you and myself dreams of his presence in +the house. You will find him in the long drawing-room needing all sorts +of attention. Rouse yourself! Go to him! Rise to the occasion, man!” + +So saying the doctor hurried off, leaving the young lieutenant standing +there in a state of stupefaction from which indeed he found it difficult +to rise. + +The rumbling of the wagon wheels that carried the doctor off was the +first sound that broke the spell that bound him. + +Then he started like one awakened from a dream, walked downstairs and +opened the door leading into the long drawing-room. + +The place was half dark, for all the window shutters were closed; so the +young lieutenant walked in slowly, peering curiously to the right and +left. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXIII + WELCOME + + “Oh, it fills my soul with joy + To greet my friends once more.” + + +“Here I am! Here is your disreputable-looking cousin! I had better +proclaim my name and rank, lest the good doctor has not prepared you to +meet a ragamuffin!” said a voice from a remote corner as tall and +shadowy figure arose and emerged from the darkness. + +The lieutenant threw open a window-shutter, let in a flood of light, and +turned at once to meet his kinsman. + +“You are Leonidas Bruce! Welcome! It seems incredible—impossible! but +you _are_ Leonidas Bruce! I know you at once by your eyes and smile. +Welcome! Welcome! Thank Heaven, you have lived to come back to us, +though at so late a day, and like one from the grave. Welcome! Welcome! +Welcome!” exclaimed Ronald Bruce as he heartily shook both his cousin’s +hands. If he had been of any other Christian nation than English or +American he would have embraced and kissed his restored kinsman. But his +greeting was felt to be sufficiently heartful. + +Tears sprang to Lonny’s eyes. For a few moments he could not speak at +all. Then he said, with much emotion: + +“You are the very first who has welcomed me home, warmly and without +doubt. My father drove me from his presence. One nearer and dearer +fainted at the sight of me. Good Dr. Willet mistook me for a beggar and +offered me alms. Only _you_ knew me and welcome me at once. But are you +quite _sure_ you know me?” inquired Lonny with morbid and touching +anxiety. + +“Quite sure. I never forget a face. Besides, your portrait, taken just +before you went away, has been familiar to me from boyhood up; and you +have not changed so much from that.” + +“But my father did not know me at all.” + +“His sight is very dim; besides, he was not prepared to expect you, as I +was.” + +“Dr. Willet did not know me at first, though he recognized me +afterwards.” + +“His vision is also somewhat impaired by age, though not so much as your +father’s, and, besides, _he_ did not expect to see you, either, as I +did.” + +“I wrote from Marseilles; but it seems my letter never came to hand.” + +“The foreign mails are notoriously irregular; so are the country mails; +between them both your letter has been delayed or miscarried. But come, +Lonny! Though I am devoured with curiosity, I will not ask you a single +question, for you seem to be in urgent need of rest and refreshment,” +said Ronald Bruce, turning toward the door. + +“Stay! Stay! If by refreshment you mean food, I do not require any. I +got a substantial meal from a hospitable farmer on the Grey Rock Road. +What I do need, as I explained to Dr. Willet, is a bath, a barber, and a +fresh suit of clothes.” + +“You shall have them all as expeditiously as possible.” + +“Take me to your own room. You are at home here, I suppose.” + +“Yes; so are you; though the folks don’t know it as yet. But come with +me, so that I can attend to your wants.” + +Lonny turned to follow his cousin. + +Just as they were about to pass into the hall Ronald saw his Aunt +Margaret descend the stairs and pass into the little green study. He +held Lonny back until she had disappeared. + +“That was our aunt. I did not want her to see you. No one must see you +till you are dressed. Come now,” said Ronald as he led the way upstairs. + +Just as they passed into the lieutenant’s room a door on the opposite +side opened and Mrs. Bruce came out and crossed the hall. + +“That was my mother. Now we are safe from observation at last,” said +Ronald as he closed the door. + +These were the only risks they ran of discovery. + +As soon as they found themselves alone, Ronald turned to his cousin and +said: + +“I know you do not wish to be seen by any one, not even by a servant, +until you are transfigured and renewed.” + +“No, indeed,” replied Lonny earnestly. + +“All right; then I will lock the door and be your valet myself!” said +Ronald as he went and turned the key in the door. + +“Now look in here, Lonny,” he continued, opening an inner door. “Here is +a bathroom, with every possible convenience for the toilet. Go in there +and make ready, while I lay out your clothes. I am a little larger than +you, but I guess mine will do for the present. Stay, however, I have a +thought!” + +“What is it?” inquired Lonny. + +“An inspiration, my dear fellow!” + +“Of what description?” + +“You shall hear anon.” + +And with these words Ronald unlocked the door and passed out, carefully +closing it behind him. + +Lonny threw himself into a chair and waited, wondering whether he or his +friends were more eccentric than the rest of the world. + +His wonder was not lessened when Ronald reappeared, lugging in that +life-sized portrait of Lonny that had been taken in his midshipman’s +uniform, just before he went to sea. + +Ronald locked the door carefully and then stood the picture on the +floor, leaning against it, and said: + +“Do you know that boy?” + +“I _used_ to know him some seventeen years ago, and a sad dog he was, to +be sure! He came to no good, I dare say,” replied Lonny with a rueful +smile. + +“Well, _that_,” said the lieutenant, rapping on the canvas, “was the +last his friends saw of him, was it not?” + +“Yes.” + +“Well, _this_,” said Ronald, again rapping the canvas—“or something very +_like_ this, must be the first his friends see of him again! In other +words, Lonny Bruce, you must dress to match your portrait of seventeen +years ago, so that your friends may know you at a glance. Do you +understand?” + +“Yes, but it will be difficult.” + +“Not at all! Listen now. I have the recipe, the pattern, the programme, +all cut, dried, and laid out! After you have had your bath and put on +fresh underclothing, we must take the plantation barber so far into our +confidence as to let him cut and shave that bandit-like black beard of +yours, and trim those unkempt elf locks into civilized proportions. Then +you must put on my last midshipman’s uniform, which is quite new and +fresh, and which, having been discarded by me two years ago, when I was +promoted, will probably fit you perfectly.” + +“And so, when that toilet is completed, I shall come forth a new, +revised, and improved edition of the Midshipman Lonny Bruce of seventeen +years ago?” + +“Exactly.” + +“An excellent idea! Thanks, Ronald! I am impatient to act upon it. My +father will be sure to recognize me now,” said Lonny. + +“All right,” laughed Ronald. + +He then proceeded to open his wardrobe and bureau and to lay out from +them all necessary articles of apparel required by the wanderer. Lastly, +he unlocked a lumber closet and took from its peg the midshipman’s +uniform. + +All these things he lifted in his arms and conveyed into the +communicating bathroom, saying as he came out: “Now all is ready for you +in there, Lonny. Go in and get ready. I will go down and send the barber +up here to you, with directions to wait in this room until you want him. +Then I will go and find your father and break the news of your return to +him. But, for Heaven’s sake, Lonny, do not leave this apartment until I +come back for you.” + +“Of course I will not,” replied the latter. + +Lieutenant Bruce then left the room and went slowly down the stairs, +asking himself how on earth he should ever be able to tell the commodore +without killing him. + +In the hall below he met his own servant, and to him he said: + +“Timothy, go and find the barber, and take him to my room, and tell him +to wait there until he is called. There is a gentleman there who will +require his services.” + +“Yes, sir. Did you hear, sir, about the robber what broke inter de house +dis morning and drawed a pistol on Marse Commodore in de little green +study, and scared one of de ladies into fainty fits, and jumped clear +through de glass windy, and made off before any one could catch him?” + +“Oh! yes, I heard all about him,” replied the young gentleman, smiling +to himself to see how the poor tramp’s adventure had grown in the +telling. + +“We libs in awful times, marster,” added the man, who seemed inclined to +linger. + +“We do, indeed. But now run and find the barber. Yet, stay a moment. +Where is the commodore?” + +“He been tending to de fainty lady ’til jes’ dis minute, when he went to +de liberary to ’ceive de mail-bag, which de mail-boy have jes’ fotched +in.” + +“Very well. I shall find him there. Now run on your errand.” + +The boy obeyed, but the lieutenant stood still, ruminating how he could +ever with safety break to the long bereaved old father the news of his +son’s return, and praying that it might be given him in that hour what +to speak. + +“I have it!” he said to himself at length. “I have it! The mail has just +come in with the Washington and Richmond papers! I will go in and take +up one and offer to read it to him. I will then pretend to read the +heading of an article: ‘Remarkable Return to Life.’ ‘Reappearance of a +young man long supposed to have been lost at sea.’ + +“And then I’ll read a rigmarole about somebody, or rather nobody, that +shall resemble Lonny’s arrival, and so prepare the old man’s mind to +hear the fact, by presenting the possibility of such a thing. Bah! I +know it will throw him in a fit, all the same,” concluded the poor +lieutenant as he opened the library door and went in. + +He found the old commodore seated in his big arm-chair at the table, +holding an open letter in his shaking hand and staring at it with +starting eyes. + +The young man saw, as by a flash of lightning, what had occurred. The +commodore held in his hand the long-delayed letter from Marseilles, +referred to by poor Lonny, announcing his existence and intended return. + +No need of breaking news here. + +“Ronald! For Heaven’s sake, look at this!” exclaimed Commodore Bruce as +soon as he saw his nephew. The lieutenant, instead of immediately +complying with his uncle’s request, went to the buffet, poured out a +glass of cognac, and took it to the old man, who received it with a +trembling hand and drank it at a draught. + +“Ronald! Ronald! You are shocked to see me in this state; but if you +knew the contents of this letter you would wonder you had not found me +stone dead in my chair, struck by a lightning flash of joy! Ronald! You +may marry the girl you love now! You may do anything in the world you +like to make yourself happy! I would all the world were as happy as I am +now! There! Read the letter. I—read it!” + +He stopped, for he was tremendously agitated. + +The lieutenant took the letter. It was short and crudely written, as by +a hand long unaccustomed to the use of the pen. It was dated Marseilles, +September 1st, and it told, in a few brief words, of the wreck of the U. +S. frigate _Eagle_ on the coast of Africa seventeen years before; of the +loss of all the officers and crew, with the exception of the writer, who +was rescued by the natives and carried captive into the interior, where +he had long remained; of his flight to the seacoast after many +ineffectual efforts; of his escape on board of a French ship, and his +voyage to Marseilles; of his failure to find friends who would listen to +or believe a story that he could not prove; and finally of his being +obliged to work his passage home on board of a Baltimore clipper, which +would sail in a few days. + +While Ronald Bruce read this letter the commodore, recovering his voice, +was pouring forth his emotions in a torrent of exclamations. + +“He was to follow the letter by the next ship, you see! In a few days! +The date of that letter is old! It has been delayed! It was sent first +to the Navy Department at Washington, then forwarded here! Good Heaven, +to think of it! Even the consul at Marseilles discredited his story! A +half-naked vagabond, picked up by a French ship on the coast of Africa +and clothed by the humanity of the crew. Obliged to work his passage +home! It is my son, Lonny, that I am talk of, Ronald—do you understand? +My son, Lonny Bruce, who was falsely supposed to have been lost at sea +seventeen years ago!” + +“Yes, yes, dear sir, I quite understand. I am reading his letter,” said +the young man, trying to comprehend through the confusion what he was +reading. + +“He will be here soon—very soon! Those Baltimore clippers are fast +sailers. He will go to Washington first—to the Navy Department—to find +out where I am. Then he will post here!” + +The impetuous torrent of language poured forth by the old man in his +excessive excitement made it almost impossible for the young lieutenant +to get in his word “edgeways;” but at length he had an opportunity of +saying: + +“If Lonny has neither money nor friends he may have to _tramp_ all the +way from Baltimore to Washington, and from Washington here.” + +“So he may, poor dear fellow,” said the commodore musingly. + +“By the way, did not that strange _tramp_ who came here this morning say +something about a letter from Marseilles which should have preceded +him?” inquired Ronald meaningly. + +The old man started, looked keenly at the younger one for a moment, then +doubling his fist and bringing it down upon the table, he smote it +smartly, exclaiming: + +“What an idiot! What a monster I have been! He was my Lonny! And _she_ +knew him! Oh! it is all clear enough now! What a jolter-headed beast I +have been! No wonder strangers discredited his story when his own father +disowned him!” + +“Do not reproach yourself, sir! Not dreaming of seeing your son, how +should you have known him after so many years and in that strange +dress?” + +“By nature, sir! By nature, if I had not been an unnatural monster!” +cried the commodore, springing up and striking out for the bell rope. + +“What are you about to do?” inquired Ronald, intercepting him. + +“Ring up the whole house and start them in pursuit of him.” + +“I thought that had been already tried without success.” + +“True, true,” said the commodore, sinking back in his seat. “He could +not be found. He has taken a temporary shelter in some farmer’s house, +doubtless. But he will come back before night. He could never imagine +that I would deny _him_!” + +“No, never; and I dare say he never even left the house at all, but is +waiting in some vacant room for a good chance to make himself known.” + +“Nothing more likely!” exclaimed the commodore, standing up again. “They +have looked for him too far away. They have _over_looked him. They +should have sought him nearer at hand.” And so saying he went for the +bell. + +“Stay! do not call a servant! Let me go and institute a search,” said +the lieutenant. + +“Yes, thanks, that is better,” agreed the old man. + +Ronald Bruce left the library and flew, bound beyond bound, up the +stairs to the chamber where he had left Lonny. + +He found the “tramp” washed, combed, shaved, trimmed, dressed, and +looking not like the original of his portrait, but like the elder +brother of the original. + +The plantation barber, having finished his work, had left the room. + +“Come,” said Ronald, “he is waiting to see you. No preparation was +needed; I found him reading your letter, which had just arrived. Come.” + +Lonny joined his cousin at once, and both, with beating hearts, went +below. + +“Go in alone. I cannot intrude on such a meeting,” whispered Ronald +Bruce as they reached the door. + +Lonny passed into the library. + +The commodore stood in the middle of the room, with a look of expectancy +on his aged face. + +“Father!” exclaimed Lonny, hastening towards him. + +The old man started forward and caught his son to his heart, exclaiming: + +“Lonny! Lonny! My son! My son! Oh, joy!” + + + + + CHAPTER XXXIV + FATHER AND SON + + And doth not a meeting like this make amends + For all the long years I’ve been wandering away? + To see thus around me my youth’s early friends, + As smiling and kind as in that happy day? + Tho’ surely, o’er some of your brows, as o’er mine, + The snow-fall of life may be stealing—what then? + Like Alps in the sunset, new lighted, in fine, + We’ll wear the warm hue of youth’s roses again. + ANON. + + +The silence of unutterable emotion fell upon the father and son for a +few moments, and then the old man held the younger one off at arm’s +length and gazed wistfully into his face, saying, as he slowly shook his +white head: + +“You are not so much changed since I saw you last on the day you sailed +on that disastrous voyage, my boy; not so much changed, after all. +Somewhat taller and gaunter in form, darker in complexion, and older in +aspect than formerly, but not so much as might have been expected after +seventeen years of captivity among barbarians. I am more changed than +you are, my son. Ah! I have grown very aged in the long years of your +absence and supposed death, Lonny.” + +“Yes, father, you and I are both traveling towards—eternal youth.” + +“And your mother, Lonny—your mother——” + +Here the old man’s voice became choked with emotion. + +“Don’t, father, don’t. I heard all that in the city. Strangers to me, +who would not credit my story, yet remembered—could tell me—how——” + +Here Lonny’s voice broke down. + +“She could not survive the news of that fatal week,” said the commodore, +struggling for self-command. “She could not live to see this day, +Lonny.” + +“Don’t, father, don’t! Don’t say that! We know, when we _think_ about +it, that she _has_ lived to see this day, though from a higher sphere. +She has lived in heaven these many years! Father, we _must_ believe +that, because she was so good. And we shall find her there in good time +if we, too, lead good lives! And now, dear sir, tell me of—of Emolyn.” + +“Your wife?” + +“Yes, my wife! You know it, then? She has told you? I thought so when I +saw her with you, but I was not sure, so I spoke very cautiously of her +to my Cousin Ronald.” + +“Yes, she told me,” admitted the commodore, but he did not add how very +recently Emolyn had made her appearance and taken him into her +confidence. To have done so would have involved too much explanation for +the moment. + +“How is she and where is she now? I left her fainting. It was hard to do +so——” + +“But you could not help yourself, as I was in such a blind fury that I +took you for a ruffian who had frightened her half to death, and so I +ordered you off, and of course to have persisted in staying would have +made matters much worse for the fainting woman.” + +“Yes, but how is she and where is she at this moment? I am most anxious +to see her. She recognized me, you know.” + +“Yes, and when she recovered from her swoon she became so wild, and +excitable, and reproached us so bitterly for letting you go, and urged +us so strenuously to fetch you back, calling you always ‘him,’ and never +using your name, that we thought her hysterical or delirious, and so +your good aunt gave her a dose of morphia in a glass of port wine to +compose her nerves. I left her sleeping under the influence of the +opiate. You can come to her room, Lonny, and sit by her bed and wait for +her awakening; it cannot be far off now.” + +“Thank you, father, I will do so. Naturally, I wish to see and speak +with _her_ before I do with anybody else,” said the younger man, rising. + +The commodore got up and led the way towards Emolyn’s chamber. + +In crossing the hall he encountered his nephew, Ronald Bruce, and +immediately stopped and hailed him in a loud voice, saying: + +“Come here, you young scapegrace! I have got an errand for you! One +suited to your vagrant mind!” + +Ronald came, smiling, and stood before his uncle, cap in hand. + +“The Lady of Edengarden cannot leave her room to-day; nor must her young +companion, Miss Palmer, be left alone or with only colored servants on +the island. Take the boat, therefore, and go to Edengarden, see the +young lady, give my respects to her and ask her, in my name, if she will +do us the favor to return with you and join her friend here, who is too +much indisposed at present to leave The Breezes. And—tell her anything +else you like, for I will not go back on my promise, do you hear, you +mutinous young dog?” + +“I hear. ‘And to hear is to obey,’” said the lieutenant, laughing, as he +bowed and bounded away to order his boat. + +“And pray who is the Lady of Edengarden?” inquired Lonny as they walked +on. + +“Your Emolyn. The country people gave her this fantastic title because +she has the most beautiful island home ever seen out of Paradise. It is +near this place.” + +“And has Ronald a little love affair on the premises, as I should judge +from your manner to him?” + +“Oh, yes! An innocent little love idyl with this lady’s adopted child, +protégée, or pet, whichever she may be called—a love idyl against which +I set my face for a whole summer, and for no other reason than the girl +is Ronald’s inferior in birth and fortune, for in almost everything else +she is his superior—I can tell you that.” + +“She must be an excellent girl to have won such favor from Emolyn,” said +Leonidas Bruce thoughtfully. + +“Yes; but notwithstanding all that, I had set my face against the +affair, both for the reasons I have explained—her want of rank and +fortune—and also because I wished to bring about a marriage between +Ronald Bruce and his Cousin Hermia, who, failing you, would have been my +co-heirs. But, bless you, the mutinous young dog would have defied me, +and disinherited himself, by marrying the girl long ago, if it had not +happened that her father was too proud to permit his daughter to marry +into a family where she was not wanted, and the girl herself was too +pious to disobey her father. So, you see, the whole affair turned upon +the pivot of my will, and the rebellious young rascal was forced to obey +me, whether he would or no. However, in my joy and gratitude at the news +of your arrival, my son, I told the young rebel that he might marry his +love if he wanted to, that I had withdrawn my opposition to his +marriage, and now I have sent him to bring the pretty child here to her +benefactress—your Emolyn. Not much magnanimity in that, however, for now +that your joyful return has changed the face of affairs, so that Ronald +is no longer my heir, of course I have no longer any right to pretend to +control his freedom of action, or even any farther interest in trying to +promote a marriage between him and his cousin. So I withdraw my +opposition to his union with this child, and as her father has now no +excuse for withholding his consent, I suppose he will give it. But +whatever they will have to live on except his pay I don’t know, unless +indeed your Emolyn should choose to endow her adopted child. She could +do so. She is fabulously rich. But here we are at her door. There is no +one but the old colored housekeeper watching her now, so we may enter.” + +They went into the room together. + +It was in semi-darkness, for the better repose of the sleeper. But the +afternoon sun, shining against the heavy crimson curtains of the front +windows facing the west, threw a deep, somber, ruddy glow over the +richly furnished chamber, and even lent a little color to the marble +face of her who lay in deep repose upon the white bed. + +The old commodore went up to the bedside, followed by Lonny. + +The colored nurse respectfully arose from her seat, and with a courtesy +yielded her place to her master. + +“You may go now, Liddy. I will ring when we want you,” said the latter. + +With another courtesy the woman turned and left the room. + +“Sit you here yourself, Lonny,” said the commodore, pointing to the +chair by the side of the bed, which had just been vacated by the nurse. + +Lonny, who was at that moment standing at the head of the bed gazing +anxiously down on the still, pale face of the sleeper, now almost +breathlessly inquired: + +“Is she well, do you think?” + +“Perfectly well, and when she wakes she will be prepared to see you; +for, mind you, she had already recognized you, and before we could +induce her to drink that glass of port wine into which your aunt had put +the dose of morphia I had to promise her that you should be sought for +and brought back, though little did we dream who you would turn out to +be when found. So she will really expect to see you when she wakes. +Therefore, all we have to do, Lonny, is to sit here and watch for that +awakening, which cannot be far off. Meantime you can while away the hour +by telling me some of the strange adventures that you must have had out +in the wilds of Africa, or by asking me of anything you wish to know +concerning what has transpired here in your absence.” + +“But will our talking disturb Emolyn?” + +“No, not at all. We need not talk loud.” + +“Will she sleep long?” + +“I think not. If she should, we may safely awaken her and give her a cup +of strong coffee,” said the commodore. + +Then they settled themselves down for a long talk. + +But in all their conversation Commodore Bruce adroitly avoided all +mention of Emolyn’s long and fatal reticence and her terrible trial; for +not in that first day of happy reunion could the father darken the son’s +spirit with the shadow of that long past tragedy. + +No. He spoke of Emolyn’s goodness and popularity; of her benefactions to +the poor; of her extensive foreign travels; of her lovely home in +Edengarden; and of her affection for her pretty namesake and lately +adopted daughter, Emolyn Palmer, whose cause she had been pleading, he +said, at the very moment Lonny had surprised them in the study. + +“Then my Emolyn will be made as happy by your consent to their marriage +as the young lovers themselves,” said Lonny. + +“Quite,” replied the commodore. + +But at the end of that interview the long absent, lately returned +husband was left in complete ignorance that a child had been born to +him, and that his wife had kept the secret of their private marriage +during all the long years of his absence and up to within a few hours of +his return. + +It was late in the afternoon when Emolyn gave signs of awakening. + +The commodore whispered to his son to withdraw for a moment out of her +range of vision. + +When Lonny had done so the commodore stooped over Emolyn. + +She had awakened calmly, as all sound persons do after an opiate. + +“Have you kept your promise to me?” she quietly questioned, fixing her +eyes upon those bent on her. + +“Yes, of course. I always keep my promises. Every officer and gentleman +is bound to do so.” + +“You have brought Lonny back? Oh, where is he? Why doesn’t he come? Let +me see him at once!” she vehemently exclaimed. “It was cruel! cruel!—it +was _mad_ in you to send him away at all! Why on earth——” + +“Because I didn’t know him, child! My eyes are old, and I took him for +a——” + +The good commodore had got in so many words “edgeways” while she +continued to speak; but now she vehemently interrupted him with— + +“Not know Lonny! Not know your own son! I beg you to forgive me, though, +for all my rudeness. I was so excited—I was almost crazy; but, oh, +please, _please_, bring him to me at once!” + +“I will, my dear, I will!” said the old man as he arose from his seat, +beckoned his son to approach and then glided silently out of the room. + +Leonidas Bruce went towards his wife. + +She had risen on her elbow, and was eagerly watching the door out of +which the commodore had passed. She evidently expected Lonny’s entrance +through that way. + +But he came to her from the opposite direction, and said softly: + +“Emolyn!” + +With a slight cry she started, turned and threw her arms about his neck +as he bent over her. + +“Oh, Emolyn, my beloved! This meeting pays us for all—does it not?” he +said as he clasped and pressed her to his heart. + +Instead of replying she burst into a storm of tears and sobs, crying +between her gasps: + +“Oh, Lonny! Lonny! Oh, Lonny! Lonny!” + +She was thinking at this hour of the child she had borne and lost under +such heart-rending, soul-harrowing disasters. + +Her husband tried to soothe her. He thought she was crying in memory of +their long separation, which was like the parting by death, as it was +long supposed to be. + +“Do not weep so! You will make yourself ill. It _has_ been a long, +dreary, hopeless absence—yes, and silent as the grave; but it is over +now, forever, dearest, and surely you are glad I have come back at ‘long +last?’ This meeting, I repeat it, repays us for all the past.” + +“Yes,” she said with a profound sigh. + +“And it is over now, dear Emolyn. That first parting and long separation +shall be our last also.” + +“Yes,” she sighed. + +“We meet now to part no more in this world, until the Lord’s summons +comes for one or the other, or both—I hope it may be for both, Emolyn—to +go ‘up higher.’” + +“Yes, I hope it will be ‘for both,’” she added, wiping her eyes and +striving to command herself. She perceived that he had not heard of the +terrible ordeal through which she had passed, and not for the world +would she, any sooner than his father, darken the first day of his +return with the knowledge of the blight that had fallen on her young +life. Later, Lonny should know all—_all!_ but not to-day, no, nor +to-morrow. They must have a little rest before such a revelation. + +“But that day of summons and departure is probably far enough off for +both of us, dear Emolyn. We are both young yet. Remember, we married +when we were children. You a little over fifteen, I eighteen. Just +seventeen years and a half have passed. You are not yet quite +thirty-three. I no more than thirty-five. Why, unmarried people at that +age pass for young ladies and gentlemen! We have a long time yet to live +and love, even in this world, dear Lynny.” + +“Yes,” she said, smiling. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXV + A SUDDEN SUMMONS + + Prythee, say on; + The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim + A matter of moment. + I go, I go; look how I go; + Swifter than arrow from the Tartar’s bow. + SHAKESPEARE. + + +While the happy reunited pair spoke of future hopes and plans, Commodore +Bruce passed off to the long drawing-room, rang for his servant and sent +the man first, to go in turn to every member of the family and request +each one to come thither, and then to call every domestic in the house +to the presence of the master. + +While waiting for his orders to be obeyed the old commodore walked +slowly up and down the floor, muttering to himself: + +“I dare say one-half of them already know the whole truth, and the other +half shrewdly suspect it! However, I must make the announcement all the +same, I suppose.” + +In a few moments the ladies of the family began to drop in. First came +Mrs. Catherine Bruce and Hermia; next Mrs. Warde and Belinda. + +The commodore requested them to sit down and wait for a few minutes +longer. + +At length the household servants came, with faces full of interest and +curiosity. + +The old gentleman’s conjecture as to their knowledge and their +suspicions was about half right. The crowd before him knew that +something extraordinary, connected with a tramp, had occurred; but they +were far from knowing what it really was. + +They stood now, eagerly waiting for the master of the house to enlighten +them. + +Commodore Bruce did this in a very few words: + +“I have to announce to you joyful intelligence. My son, Mr. Leonidas +Bruce, long supposed to have been lost in the wreck of the United States +ship _Eagle_, has returned unexpectedly to-day. He is now in this house, +as is also his wife, Emolyn, whom you have all heard of as the Lady of +Edengarden. They are to remain here, I hope. Those among you who +remember Mr. Bruce in his boyhood shall have an opportunity of shaking +hands with him after dinner. Later you shall hear more. This is all I +have to tell you. No! no demonstrations—not even congratulations yet! I +will have none—I——” + +But before the commodore could utter another word every arm went waving +aloft over every head, and a unanimous— + +“Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!” burst from the crowd of servants. + +“As if it were reasonable, or even possible, to prevent that!” whispered +his sister Margaret, laying her hand soothingly on the arm of the +exasperated commodore. + +The old man swallowed his rising wrath and merely said to the offenders: + +“Now, every man among you go quietly away to your duties! Next +Thursday—a week from to-day—being Hallow Eve, you shall all have a +thundering blow-out in honor of this joyful occasion! No! No more +hurrahing, you villains! If there should be——” + +“Hurrah! Hurrah!! Hurrah!!!” + +“Begone!” said the commodore with a stamp. + +And they hurried away, making the welkin ring as they went with: + +“Hurrah! Hurrah!! Hurrah!!!” + +“You really cannot expect anything else, and you should not blame them,” +said Mrs. Templeton, the peacemaker. + +The commodore relieved his feelings by striking his thick cane down +heavily upon the floor. + +“But, now that the servants are gone, uncle, for Heaven’s sake tell _us_ +all about this wonderful return,” exclaimed Hermia. + +“Yes, pray do!” chorused all the other ladies. + +The old man looked at them mockingly for a space, and then said bluntly: + +“I WON’T! I have had excitement enough for one day, and now I am going +to my room to smoke. You’ll all see Lonny and his wife at dinner. Yet +stay—in this connection I would add that the young girl, Emolyn Palmer, +who was our inmate a few weeks ago, is now the cherished pet of the Lady +of Edengarden, in consideration of which I have sent for her to come and +join us at dinner, and she will probably remain our guest as long as her +benefactress is pleased to stay. Now pray ask no more questions, my +dear, for I have no more explanations to make at present. Mrs. Warde, +you look pale. I hope you are not indisposed.” + +“Thanks, no; I am as well as usual,” answered the widow in a constrained +voice. + +“I am glad to hear it. I want every one to feel well on this happy day. +Ladies, in good time you _shall_ hear ‘all about it;’ but for the +present I must leave you and seek needful repose.” + +And so saying, with his ceremonious old bow, the commodore left the +room. + +Mrs. Warde stepped away to hide her agitation that the news of Lonny’s +return and the mention of his wife’s name had raised in her conscious +soul. + +The other ladies remained for a few minutes, talking over the +extraordinary event of the day, and then separated to go to their rooms +and prepare a special toilet for the occasion. + +Meanwhile Commodore Bruce had sought the refuge of his library, dropped +with a sigh of relief into his easy-chair, and delivered himself to +repose. + +But his rest was of short duration. He had set too many wires in motion +that day to be left long in quietness. He was soon interrupted by the +entrance of Ronald with Em., just arrived from Edengarden. + +They both entered the room looking so innocently and frankly happy that +the old man could not but receive them very cordially. + +“Well, Ronald, I never knew you to do an errand so quickly in all the +days of my life before. I commend you, my lad,” he said in good-humored +raillery of the young lover. + +Then, holding out his hand to Em., he smiled on her, saying: + +“Come hither, my child, and kiss me. Now, am I not a good-natured old +muff to let that young coxcomb have you, when I am so fond of you +myself?” he continued, as he put his arm around her waist and drew her +to his side in a fatherly embrace. “Say, am I not very, _very_ good to +the young puppy?” + +“You are ‘very, very good’ to _me_, sir,” said Em., raising his withered +hand to her lips. + +“To _him_, miss, to _him_. As for you, I do not know but that I am doing +you a mischief in consenting to this marriage. But, there, I have +consented and shall not retract. I suppose that fellow has told you so, +and also everything else that has happened here to-day?” + +“Oh, yes, sir, and I am so glad and thankful that your son has returned. +Oh! if I could only _tell_ you how glad and thankful,” earnestly +exclaimed Em. as the tears rushed to her eyes. + +“_That_ tells _me_! And now I have something else to tell you. This +dear, only son of mine is also the beloved husband of your benefactress, +Em.—of your lovely Lady of Edengarden, Ronald!” exclaimed the commodore. + +Both the young people opened their eyes in astonishment, and would have +opened their lips in inquiry had not the commodore prevented them by +nervously exclaiming: + +“No questions! No comments! You will find out everything in time. Ring +the bell, Ronald.” + +The young man silently obeyed. + +The hall footman appeared. + +“Send the girl Liza here,” said the old man. + +In a few moments the girl appeared. + +“You waited on Miss Palmer when she was here before, did you not?” +inquired her master. + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Then show this young lady to the best spare room in the house, and make +her comfortable,” said the commodore. + +Em. kissed the old man’s hand and followed the girl. + +“Now, my lad, do you also go about your business! I expect to have a row +with your mother about consenting to this marriage; but I guess I know +how to persuade _her_. And now I must smoke my pipe in peace.” + +“And doze, if you can, uncle! Indeed, I hope you will,” said Ronald as +he turned to leave the room. + +“There’s but little time left for _that_ before dinner,” muttered the +commodore as he settled for a nap. + +As Em. went upstairs, attended by Liza, she asked the girl: + +“Don’t you think I might have the room in the attic that I had before?” + +“Surely, Miss Em., if you refers dat one; but dere’s heap betters.” + +“I prefer that one.” + +“Now, ain’t dat so funny!” exclaimed the girl. + +“What funny? My preferring the attic chamber to a finer one?” inquired +the guest. + +“No, Miss Em., not dat; but I’ll jes’ tell you. It _was_ funny. Why, +Miss Em., when you went away so suddint I did feel so lonesome ’dout you +dat I mos’ cried my eyes out. And den I cleaned up your room, and +cleaned out de fireplace, and piled shavin’s and pine cones and pine +sticks and hickory logs inter it, ready to light a fire at a minute’s +warning, ’caze I ax myself maybe if I keeps de room ready for her it +will work on de sperrits in some ’sterious way so she may come back! +And, sure ’nough, here you is, and your room all ready for you. It _is_ +funny. Come in, Miss Em.,” concluded Liza, for they had now reached the +attic landing and the chamber door. + +Liza entered first, took a match from the mantelpiece and lighted the +combustibles under the hickory sticks across the andirons, and soon had +a bright, blazing fire. + +Then she took Em.’s traveling-bag from her hands and began to unbutton +her waterproof, which was fastened from her neck to her feet. + +When this was done Em. threw off her cloak and unpinned a looped skirt +and shook it down, and appeared in a simple but elegant blue silk dress, +trimmed on the bosom and sleeves with pure Valenciennes lace. + +“Why, Miss EM.!” cried the little maid in glad surprise. “If that ain’t +jes’ like Cinderella!” + +“Lieutenant Bruce told me there was to be company at dinner, and so I +put on the best dress I owned—a present from my benefactress—to grace +it,” she explained as she went to the glass to rearrange her golden +auburn hair. + +“Let me run to the deservatory for some white roses, Miss Em., one for +your head an’ one for your breas’. I won’t be gone long!” exclaimed +Liza, dashing out of the room without waiting for an answer. + +She soon returned, bringing a bunch of fresh, half-open white roses, +which Em., after thanking the girl warmly, arranged in her hair and on +her bosom. + +She had just put these finishing touches to her toilet when the +dinner-bell rang. + +“That’s the last bell, Miss Em. The first one rang half an hour ago, +’fore you ’rived, I reckon,” said Liza. + +“I am quite ready,” said the young lady as she passed out of the room +and went downstairs. + +On entering the drawing-room she found the family assembled there. A +group near the upper end fixed her attention. + +A tall, dark, handsome man, whom she instantly recognized by his +portrait to be Leonidas Bruce, stood with the Lady of Edengarden leaning +on his arm. Near them stood Commodore Bruce and his sister. Not far off +were all the other members of the family circle. + +As Em. entered her benefactress dropped the arm of the gentleman on whom +she had been leaning and advanced to meet her youthful protégée. + +“Come, my love, you have heard how happy we are all rendered by Mr. +Bruce’s return. I wish to present you to him,” said the lady as she drew +the girl’s arm within her own and led her straight up to the gentleman. + +“This is my dear young friend, Emolyn Palmer, Mr. Bruce, and I know you +will love her for her own sake as well as for mine.” + +“She is enough like you to be your sister. I am very glad to see her,” +replied Lonny as he offered his hand to the timid child before him. + +“I hope you will let me say how rejoiced I am at your return and at your +happiness,” said Em. shyly. + +“Thank you, my dear girl. I hope you will be as happy with us both as +you have been with your friend here.” + +“Oh, indeed I _know_ I shall be even much happier,” replied the girl; +and if she could have spoken her whole thoughts she would have added: +“For—I do not understand it, but—I love you just as much as I do love +her.” + +Em.’s lips did not utter this, but her radiant face said a great deal +more. + +Then she received and returned the greetings of the other ladies. + +“Well, we are waiting for Dr. Willet and Mrs. Warde,” said the +commodore. + +“Dr. Willet has not yet returned from the Wilderness, and Mrs. Warde is +too much indisposed to join us. We need not wait for either,” said Mrs. +Catherine Bruce. + +“Very well, then, we won’t! Leonidas, bring Emolyn in to dinner. Ronald, +take Miss Palmer. Catherine, allow me,” said the commodore as he gave +his arm to his sister-in-law and led the way to the dining-room, where +the housekeeper had laid a sumptuous feast in honor of the +newly-arrived. + +That was a memorable dinner. Every one enjoyed it, and no one more than +the reunited couple and the young lovers. + +When the cloth was removed a few toasts were drunk—to the returned +traveler, to the reunited husband and wife, and finally to the +commodore. + +When the ladies rose to leave the table the gentlemen did not, on this +occasion, linger over their wine, but followed them at once to the +drawing-room. + +It was nine o’clock, and they were at the height of their enjoyment of +this family reunion when the clatter of a horse’s hoofs was heard +rapidly galloping up the rocky road leading to the gate of the yard. + +Before any one could hazard a conjecture on the subject the hall door +was opened and the voice of Dr. Willet heard in excited tones demanding: + +“Where is your master?” + +The footman was heard to reply: + +“In the drawing-room, sir.” + +On this Commodore Bruce started up, exclaiming: + +“What now?” and he left the room. + +He met the doctor full tilt at the door. + +“Commodore Bruce, there is not a moment to be lost! I ordered the +carriage as I came through the stable yard!” + +“But what is the matter?” demanded the commodore of the excited speaker. + +“I have a most startling and important revelation from the dying woman, +Ann Whitlock, who has partly recovered her speech. It is a revelation +that must be received under oath in presence of a magistrate. It is in +your capacity as a justice of the peace that I want you at the bedside +of this dying woman.” + +“I will be ready in five minutes,” replied the commodore with his old +martial promptitude. + +“And not only yourself, but your son, Leonidas Bruce, his wife, Emolyn, +and the young girl whom we have known only as Em. Palmer.” + +“What! Do you mean to say that they must go, too?” + +“Yes.” + +“But what have _they_ to do with this?” + +“Everything! Everything connected with their honor, prosperity and +happiness.” + + + + + CHAPTER XXXVI + A STARTLING STORY + + If hearty sorrow + Be a sufficient ransom for offence, + I tender it here; I do as truly suffer + As e’er I did commit. + SHAKESPEARE. + + +Great was the wonder in the drawing-room when Dr. Willet entered, and +after a sweeping bow that took in the whole circle, went straight up to +Leonidas Bruce and said: + +“I am really sorry to break up this ‘goodlie companie,’ but ‘necessity +has no law,’ and this particular case admits of no compromise. Mr. +Bruce, I am here to ask you, your wife, and this young lady, Miss +Emolyn, to come with me to the deathbed of my patient.” + +“Who is it?” inquired the astonished man. + +“Mrs. Ann Whitlock, the old woman whom I have been attending for the +last few weeks at the Wilderness Manor-house; the same one to whom I was +so suddenly called again this afternoon.” + +“Oh, yes. Well, poor soul, if she is dying, I am sure I’m very sorry for +her; but I can’t help it. I don’t know her the least in the world. Why, +I have but just got home, you see; and I don’t know——” + +“Oh, of course you don’t know anything at all about it; but your wife +and this young lady both know the old woman who sends for them to her +deathbed, and as they will not disregard her dying request, perhaps you +will elect to go with them. Your presence is desirable, but not +absolutely necessary.” + +“Oh, of course I will go. Since these ladies were acquainted with the +poor old creature I can partly understand her desire to see them,” said +Leonidas Bruce good-naturedly. + +“Then, as no time is to be lost, let me entreat the ladies to get ready +for their ride immediately. The carriage is ordered,” said the doctor. + +Full of conjecture as to the cause of the summons, Mrs. Bruce arose, +drew Emolyn’s arm within her own, and left the drawing-room. + +As the two women separated in the hall, the one to go to the parlor +chamber, the other to go to the attic, Mrs. Bruce noticed that Em.’s +eyes were full of tears. + +“What! weeping, my love?” she exclaimed. + +“Ah! she was very good to me. Always very good to me,” sighed the girl. + + “‘But the angels weep when a babe is born, + And sing when an old man dies.’ + +You should not weep for the death of the aged, my dear. What can she +want with us, Em.? Ah! I understand how she may want you; but _me_? Long +ago she nursed my uncle, it is true, yet I scarcely ever knew her.” + +“I think, dear lady, that, as she knows you have me, she only wishes to +see us both together, and perhaps commend me to your kindness. She +_need_ not do that, of course, but she was always _very_ good to me.” + +“That is it!” exclaimed the lady, and then she hurried off to her room, +while Em. ran up to the attic. + +In the meantime the ladies left in the drawing-room, Mrs. Catherine +Bruce, and Miss Belinda Warde, came around to Dr. Willet for an +explanation of this sudden night summons. + +The good physician parried their questions as politely as he could, and +was still evading them when the door opened and Commodore Bruce came in, +all booted and spurred for riding, and exclaimed: + +“Well, doctor, I am ready, you see! As you have ridden so much to-day I +shall give you my seat in the carriage, old friend, and take your horse. +No, now! Not one word of objection! I will have it so. Besides, I have +ordered a second horse for Leonidas, so that I and my son may trot side +by side, as we used to do when I was younger and he was smaller,” added +the commodore as he drew on his gloves. + +As he spoke Leonidas Bruce, equipped for riding, accompanied by his +cousin, Ronald, re-entered the room. + +The two ladies soon followed—Mrs. Leonidas Bruce in the dress she had +worn on her short journey from Edengarden to The Breezes, and Em. in her +boat cloak and hood. + +“Well, we are all ready, I believe?” inquired the doctor. + +The other members of the party assented, and after bidding good-evening +to the three ladies and the one gentleman left behind, they went out the +front door to the place where the carriage and the saddle horses were +awaiting them. + +Dr. Willet handed the two ladies into the carriage, then followed and +took his seat at their side. + +Leonidas Bruce assisted his father to mount his horse, then leaped into +his own saddle and rode after the carriage, which had already started. + +The commodore was soon by his son’s side. + +And so they wound down the road leading down the mountainside and +through the forest to the back road, and thence to the Wilderness +Manor-house. + +There was no moon, but the sky was perfectly clear, and the innumerable +stars shone with a sparkling brilliancy that compensated for her +absence. + +The three passengers in the carriage spoke but little. Dr. Willet went +to sleep. It was very rude of him to do so, but he was aged and tired. +Mrs. Leonidas Bruce was absorbed in reverie. Em. was silently weeping +and stealthily wiping away her tears. Em. had scarcely realized how much +she loved the uncouth old creature who had been her nurse and companion +all her young life and until within a few weeks. Yet these were tears of +tender compassion rather than of bitter sorrow; tears, too, which Em.’s +cheerful faith taught her were more natural than rational, since “death +is but an orderly step in life,” and to die out of this sphere is to be +born in a higher one. + +The two men enjoyed _their_ ride. Neither of them took any more than a +kindly interest in the dying woman they were going to see, so they +talked of everything else than of her—of Lonny’s shipwreck, and rescue, +and capture; of his experiences in the long years of his captivity; of +his flight and escape, and his voyage home on the French ship, etc., +etc., etc. + +All these adventures Lonny had already related. But now, at his father’s +request, he went over them again, as he was destined many times to +repeat them at intervals for his father, his father’s friends and—their +friends, for many years to come. + +It was ten o’clock when they drew near a pile of dark buildings in the +valley below them, which they recognized as the Wilderness Manor. + +In a few minutes they were at the gates opening into the back courtyard +under the shadow of the mountain, this being the nearer approach to the +house from the direction of The Breezes. + +Here John Palmer and his boys waited to receive them. + +John led the party up to the house, while the boys took away the horses +to the rear stables. + +At the door of the house Susan Palmer received her late visitors. + +She had been prepared by Dr. Willet, who had informed her of the +unexpected return of the long missing Leonidas Bruce, so she showed no +surprise at his appearance, and under the serious circumstances gave him +only the general welcome extended to the whole party. + +“Walk in here, ladies and gentlemen,” she said, opening the door of a +well-warmed and lighted parlor, where a fine fire of hickory logs blazed +in the broad fireplace, and two tall “mold” candles, in taller brass +candlesticks, stood on the high mantel-shelf. + +“Please sit down and make yourselves comfortable, while I take Em. up to +see the poor soul, for so she desired me to do first of all,” added Mrs. +Palmer as she placed chairs near the fire for her guests. + +When they were seated she beckoned Em., who arose to follow her, then +bowed to her guests, and left the room. + +As soon as they reached the hall outside Susan Palmer astonished Em. by +suddenly throwing her arms around the girl’s neck, bursting into tears, +and exclaiming: + +“Oh! my child, you’ll love us all the same! You’ll love us all the same! +You’ll love us all the same!” + +“Dear mother, what is the matter?” inquired the girl in alarm. + +“Oh! Em., say you will! Say you will!” + +“Will _what_? I’ll do _all_ you wish, dear mother, only tell me _what_!” +exclaimed the frightened girl. + +“Love us just as much! Just as much, Em.! Oh, just as much!” sobbed the +woman. + +“My own dear mother,” murmured Em., caressing and soothing the excited +creature, although she herself was frightened half out of her senses at +the agitation she could not comprehend—“my own dear mother, I love you +and shall always love you. Compose yourself. Do not doubt me. Is it +because Commodore Bruce has consented that his nephew shall marry me? +Have you already heard that, and do you think it could make any +difference in my love for you? It could not, dear mother, not one bit!” + +“Oh! no, Em., no! It isn’t _that_. I’m not such a fool as to take on so +about _that_. Of course I knew you would marry some time. Besides, I +hadn’t even heard of it. Oh! no, Em., it is not that! It is worse than +that. Heaven forgive me, it is better than that. No, it is _worse_. Oh, +Em.! Em.! Em.!” + +And Susan Palmer fell to weeping. + +“My own dear, dear mother, I never knew you to be so nervous in my life +before. Surely you are not well. Oh, what _is_ the matter?” exclaimed +the girl, her alarm rising to terror. + +“You’ll hear soon enough, Em.! You’ll hear soon enough! But oh, do +promise me you’ll love us all the same, all the same, whatever you +hear!” said Susan Palmer, with a great sobbing sigh as she released the +girl and wiped her own eyes. + +“Won’t you tell me what it is, mother, dear?” + +“No, Em. It ain’t for me to tell you. But oh! you will still call me +‘mother,’ and poor, dear, good, good John, who is so fond of you, +‘father’—won’t you, Em.?” she pleaded. + +Em. could only look at the distressed woman in silent dismay—thinking of +approaching illness, fever, delirium. + +“You know you will call the gentleman and lady papa and mamma because +children in high life call their parents that. But you will call me and +poor old John plain mother and father as you always did—won’t you, Em.?” + +“She is distressing herself about my possible marriage and my future +mother and father-in-law,” thought Em.; and then she answered earnestly: + +“_Always_, dear mother. Always, believe me! I will never call any one +else father or mother but you and father!” + +“That’s my loving heart! That’s my sweet, loving heart! You can call +them ‘papa’ and ‘mamma,’ you know, and they’ll like that just as well, +and even better, for that is fashionable and elegant, and polite, and so +on. But oh, Em!”—with another burst of emotion—“it is just as if you +were dead to us! Just as if you were dead! I wish—oh, I do wish that we +had taught you to call us ‘daddy’ and ‘mammy,’ for then I should know +you would never call any fine lady or gentleman _that_. Now, come +upstairs, child, for I have kept you down here too long already. But oh, +Em.! It is just like closing down the coffin-lid over your face to let +you go now! We part now, we will never meet again in the same way, Em.,” +she exclaimed, as she began slowly to climb the stairs, followed closely +by the troubled and bewildered girl. + +Not a word more was spoken between them until they reached the attic +landing, when Mrs. Palmer opened the door of the sick-room and said: + +“Go in there, Em.! Go in alone! Oh! my Lord! It is like lowering you +into the grave! We will meet again! But not the same! Oh, nevermore the +same.” She sighed as she sent Em. alone into the room and gently closed +the door after her. + +The sick chamber, as I mentioned once before, was a large upper room. It +was now in obscurity, the smoldering hardwood fire in the fireplace, and +the rustic lamp on the mantel-shelf giving but little light. + +Em. went up to the old-fashioned four-poster at the upper end of the +room, where Dr. Willet had already taken his place, and old Monica was +waiting. The latter gave way as Em. approached the bed. + +The dying woman was lying very still, on her back, with her wasted face +level on the pillow, and her skeleton hands folded on her breast. + +“Speak to her,” said Dr. Willet. + +“Aunty Whitlock,” said Em., gently, bending over her. + +The woman sighed, moaned, and opened her eyes. + +“Aunty Whitlock, how do you do?” inquired Em. + +The poor creature made several ineffectual efforts to articulate, and +finally said, in an imperfect way: + +“I—am—getting—well—fast.” + +“Is she delirious?” inquired Em., in a whisper and with a startled look +at the doctor. + +“Oh, no, it is her way of speaking. She means that she is going—dying. +Hush! She is trying to speak to you again. Bend low—bend your ear to her +lips.” + +The girl obeyed. + +“Em.,” muttered the woman, so imperfectly that the listener could +scarcely recognize her own name. “Em., my child.” + +“Yes, Aunty Whitlock. I am listening—I hear.” + +“Have I been—good to you—my dear?” she asked, in tones so faint and +muffled that Em. scarcely gathered their meaning, but rather divined it, +as she answered: + +“Very, very good to me always, dear Aunty Whitlock.” + +“I—_did_—save—your life.” + +“Yes, I know you did, dear aunty! Mother has often told me you did.” + +A cloud of trouble passed over the face of the dying woman, and her lips +writhed in their efforts to utter the next words, which Em. bent her ear +and strained her sense to hear. + +“Yes—but not in that way—not as she thinks—did I save your life.” + +There was silence and quick breathing for a few minutes, and then, with +an effort, she resumed: + +“When—you know all—forgive—because—I _did_ save your life.” + +Em. stooped and kissed the old woman, and laid her fresh, living cheek +against the faded and dying one. + +“Now, doctor!” panted the woman. + +Dr. Willet approached and bent over her. + +“Let them come—quick—I’m passing.” + +The doctor administered a restorative, and then left the room to bring +the Bruces to the bedside of the fast sinking woman. + +Em. remained standing by her, rubbing her cold hands. + +In a few moments the doctor re-entered the room, bearing two lighted +candles in his hand, and followed by Commodore Bruce, Leonidas and +Emolyn and John and Susan Palmer. + +The doctor drew a little stand to the bedside and placed the two candles +upon it, and laid a folded paper beside them. Then he beckoned Emolyn +Bruce to appear. + +The lady put off her bonnet and shawl and went up to the bedside, +closely followed by her husband. + +The lady bent over the dying woman, saying: + +“I am very sorry to see you in this way, Mrs. Whitlock. Do you know me?” + +“You are Emolyn Wyndeworth—I saved your child’s life—I was always good +to her—she will tell you so herself.” + +“What does she mean?” inquired Leonidas, who had caught only one or two +words of this faintly muttered speech. + +Emolyn shook her head in doubt, and Dr. Willet said: + +“Hush! You will know soon. Let me say a few words. When I came to this +woman this afternoon she made a startling confession to me in the +presence of John and Susan Palmer. I took the statement down from her +dying lips, lest if I had delayed to do so it might have been too late. +I took her mark and the signatures of the two Palmers as witnesses. I +wish to have her acknowledge this confession to be the truth, under +oath. Commodore Bruce, will you administer the oath?” + +The old commodore, much wondering what he should hear next, said: + +“Will you read it to her first?” + +“No, there will not be time. I will read it afterwards.” + +“Lift her up, then, somebody.” + +John Palmer, being the strongest “body” present, went to the head of the +bed, lifted the dying woman to a sitting posture, and supported her in +his firm arms, with her back resting against his chest. + +“This is her written statement,” said Dr. Willet, placing the folded +paper in the hands of the commodore. + +“Make—haste,” panted the woman, with difficulty. + +The doctor poured out and administered a stimulant, which partially +revived her. + +“Do you know what you are about to do?” inquired the commodore. + +“Yes—swear to—the truth of—my statement,” gasped the woman. + +Commodore Bruce, in his capacity of magistrate, then administered the +oath and exhibited the written statement with its signatures, which she +recognized and acknowledged under oath. + +“There! That will do! This necessary disturbance has shaken the last +sands of her life. Leave her now to repose, and follow me down to the +drawing-room, where I will read to you all this strange confession,” +said the doctor. + +John Palmer left his perch on the head of the bed and gently lowered the +head of the dying woman to the pillow. + +Susan tenderly adjusted the covering around her, and beckoned old Monica +to come and resume her watch by the bed. + +Dr. Willet took up the two lighted candles and led the way from the +room, leaving the place in the twilight shadow and stillness best fitted +for the sufferer. + +The whole party repaired to the drawing-room, and seated themselves +around the large circular center-table upon which Dr. Willet had placed +the candles and the document. + +When the little bustle, incident upon this movement, subsided, the +doctor took up the paper and began to read the statement aloud to his +almost breathless audience. + +And then and there the astonished family of Commodore Bruce learned a +secret they had never even suspected before, though doubtless my +intelligent readers have divined it long ago. + +The attested statement of the dying woman showed how she, Ann Whitlock, +sick-nurse, while in the employment of Mrs. Malvina Warde, at Green +Point, being tempted of the devil, did appropriate to herself certain +valuable jewels belonging to the family, and being caught in the act by +Mrs. Warde, did thenceforward fall, body and soul, into the power of +that lady, who, by threats of prosecution and imprisonment did compel +her, Ann Whitlock, to commit great sins. How, to effect her purpose, +Mrs. Warde procured for Ann Whitlock, the position of sick-nurse in the +Women’s Hospital in the city. How, on the thirtieth of April, 18—, she, +Ann Whitlock, being driven of the devil in the shape of Malvina, +procured certain drugs to be administered to Emolyn Wyndeworth, then +living at Green Point, which drugs hastened the illness of that lady. +How, on the morning of the first of May, while it was yet dark, and the +household all in bed, she, being secretly admitted by Mrs. Warde to the +sick chamber of Emolyn Wyndeworth, had, with the assistance of Malvina +Warde, stolen away the new-born, healthy infant daughter of Emolyn +Wyndeworth, and secretly conveyed it to the Women’s Hospital, and +adroitly changed it for the still-born child of Susan Palmer, a patient +in the ward then under her care. How, leaving the living infant by the +sleeping woman, she had brought back the dead one and laid it on the bed +with Emolyn Wyndeworth. How ever since that fatal night she had so +suffered with remorse that nothing but the one thought that Mrs. Warde +would certainly have destroyed the living child, if she herself had not +substituted the dead one for it, could bring her any comfort; but that +she compensated the child for the loss of its real mother by giving her +to the best woman she knew in the world, and by being as good to her as +she possibly could be. Finally, that she had meant to tell the truth on +her deathbed, when she should be out of the power of her demoniac +mistress. + +That was all. Fortunately not a word had been said about the trial. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXVII. + CONCLUSION. + + Thou art our daughter, never loved as now, + Thou gentlest maid, thou child of purity. + MATURIN. + + +Fortunately, I say, not a word had been said of the trial which had +blighted so many years of Emolyn Wyndeworth’s life. + +The reading of Ann Whitlock’s confession was followed by a deep silence +of some moments, during which nothing was heard but the low sound of +Susan Palmer’s weeping. + +At length Em. arose softly from her seat beside old Commodore Bruce, and +went over and seated herself beside Susan, put her arms around the poor +woman’s neck, kissed her, and murmured: + +“So _that_ was what you meant, dear mother! How strange it all is! But +_do_ not weep so! I _will_ love you all the same, dear, dear mother. Are +seventeen years of tenderest motherhood to be blotted out by one hour’s +revelation? Oh, no, no, no, my own dear mother, no! You and I have loved +and worked and suffered too long and too closely together for that——” + +“And John, too!” sobbed Susan. “Oh, _poor_ John! You were his favorite +child, Em. He _was_ so fond of you!” + +“Yes, and dear father, too! He _is_ so fond of me, mother. Ah! don’t +weep so! Indeed, I love you—_more_ than ever!” + +“Oh, Em., I know it is so selfish and _so_ mean in me to cry so hard +about anything that brings so much good to you, but I can’t +help—help—help it!” sobbed Susan. + +“No, it is not selfish, dear mother. You haven’t a selfish vein in your +body. It is natural. Didn’t you cry hard when you parted with your +children who went to heaven, though you knew they were so much better +off? And don’t everybody do so?” + +“Ye—yes, and this is almost the same, Em. Almost as hard for me!” + +“Only I wish you wouldn’t, dear mother, for I shall be _just_ the same +to you as I was before, and come and help you to darn the stockings, or +wash the dishes, _just_ as I did before. And if you don’t scold me just +as much as you do the other children and—and father,” added Em., with a +peculiar smile, “I shall think you don’t love me half as much as you do +them.” + +“We always loved the child that has gone to heaven the best, Em., and +you will be to me like that. You are a good girl, Em., it’s me that’s +mean and selfish to cry about your good fortune, and begrudge you to +that poor lady who has suffered so much in this world, and who hasn’t +got no other child, but only you, while I have so many girls and boys; +and another one a-coming, as sure as you live, Em.—another one a-coming. +But don’t you say a word about that—it is awful! Now, there, child, go +speak to your mamma. She is very patient to wait for you so long. I’ll +go and comfort John by telling him what you say. Oh, _poor_ John!” + +And Susan Palmer arose and went out of the room to look for John, who +had left the scene immediately at the end of the reading, to conceal all +outward signs of his own inner trouble. + +Meanwhile, the very first movement of Em. to join her foster-mother +having broken the spell of silence that had followed the reading of the +confession, the other members of the family gathering had fallen to +whispering, exclaiming, or questioning Dr. Willet. + +Em.’s first impulse to join them was checked by a feeling of diffidence, +and she remained for some moments seated where Susan Palmer had left +her, waiting the pleasure of her elders. + +At length she glanced toward her parents. + +They were sitting talking earnestly together in a low voice, seemingly +quite absorbed in each other, though they had frequently looked across +at their daughter without her consciousness of their regards. + +Commodore Bruce and Dr. Willet sat together at some little distance from +the other two, and somewhat nearer to Em., very gravely conversing, +their gray heads bent closely together, the doctor pointing his +arguments, whatever they were, with his right forefinger on his left +palm; the commodore listening solemnly, nodding from time to time, and +taking countless pinches of snuff. + +A few words of their discourse necessarily reached Em.’s ears. + +“He _must_ hear it some time or other,” said Dr. Willet. + +“True, true; most true”—from the commodore, with a nod, a sigh, and a +huge pinch of snuff. + +“He will bear it better now, perhaps, than at any other time.” + +“Humph, perhaps, you know best.” + +“If you authorize me, I will myself take the disagreeable task off your +hands and be his informant.” + +“Yes, yes, doctor, do! I could never tell him myself! Never!” + +While the two old men were still conversing, Em. turned her eyes from +them and fixed them upon her parents. + +At the same instant Emolyn Bruce looked up and met her daughter’s gaze. + +The lady smiled and opened her arms. + +Em. arose and crossed the room and gave herself to that fond embrace. + +“Now we know the reason why we loved each other so, my darling, don’t +we?” murmured the lady, as she folded her daughter to her bosom. + +“Yes, dear mamma, yes, for my heart was drawn to you from the very first +moment I saw you. I longed for you to love me then,” answered Em., +returning love for love and kiss for kiss. + +“Your papa, my dear,” whispered Emolyn, in a low tone. + +Em. raised her head from the lady’s bosom to see bending over them both, +the dark, handsome man whose very portrait she had worshiped long before +she had ever seen him. + +“Have you no place left in your heart for me, little daughter?” inquired +the stranger, as he drew the girl to his bosom and pressed his lips to +hers. + +“I loved you long before I ever saw you, dear papa,” whispered Em., half +shyly, half fondly. + +“How is that, my little girl? You loved me before you ever saw me?” +inquired the pleased young papa. + +“Yes—and even before I ever _heard_ of you,” said Em. + +“Explain,” said the object of this strange affection, with a smile and a +caress. + +“Well, I found your portrait in the attic at The Breezes, and I set it +up in my room as an object of worship, having been struck with it before +I knew to whom it belonged.” + +“Who will say now that there is no instinct in natural affection?” +demanded Leonidas. + +That question was unanswerable; but after a little while Em. turned to +her mamma and asked another. + +“So it was for your lost child you always provided a yearly outfit of +dainty clothing?” + +“Yes, love; it was a fond, foolish fancy of mine; but not without +benefit to others, since at the end of every year I gave away the +raiment to those who needed it.” + +At this moment Dr. Willet came up to the group, and laying his hand on +the shoulder of the last speaker, said gravely: + +“The commodore, Mr. Bruce, has authorized me to make a communication to +you, which should no longer be withheld. Will you come with me into +another room?” + +The gentleman so addressed at once arose and followed the doctor, who +took him into the disused dining-room of the old house, closed and +locked the door, and then and there told him the terrible story of the +false accusation and the trial to which his young wife had been +subjected in his absence. + +Leonidas was frightfully agitated while listening. He strode up and down +the floor, most bitterly reproaching himself, groaning, weeping, as only +brave men can weep, and bursting into exclamations of pity, rage, +remorse. + +It took all Dr. Willet’s skill and experience to reduce the fearfully +excited man to anything like calmness and rationality. + +“The dying woman was but a weak tool in this diabolical work! She has +done what she could to atone for her share in it, and now she is beyond +the reach of punishment. But Malvina Warde! that fiend in human shape! +_She_ shall be prosecuted to the utmost extent of the law! I will spend +every dollar I am worth to engage the best counsel to be had, to send +her to the State prison.” + +“Leonidas, the wretched woman is a family connection! You could not +punish _her_ without——” began the doctor; but Bruce interrupted him in a +voice of thunder: + +“Don’t tell me about family credit, Dr. Willet! If she were my sister I +should send her to the State Prison for such a cause!” + +The doctor ceased to expostulate, thinking it best to let the infuriated +man rage himself to exhaustion. + +Presently, however, Leonidas Bruce came up to Dr. Willet and said: + +“Doctor, if it had not been for you, Emolyn, _poor_ Emolyn, could never +have lived through that terrible ordeal. You, with your constant +charity, your wisdom, and your medical skill, bore her up, and sustained +her in mind and body, or she must have sunk and perished in that fiery +furnace of affliction. Doctor! so long as I may live in this world—ay! +and in the next—I shall never forget your invaluable services, never +cease to remember them with glowing gratitude. I should have expressed +this to you before, for it is as true as truth; but the thought of that +fiendish woman’s work put everything else out of my head. But, doctor, +believe me——” + +“Say no more, my dear friend. I have told you this tragic story to +forestall any false or garbled account you might possibly receive of it. +Now, my dear Leonidas, I advise you never to speak of it again, but to +forget it as fast as you can.” + +(“After I have sent that fiend in female form to the State Prison,” said +Lonny to himself.) + +“Now then, calm yourself and clear your brow, and let us go back to the +ladies, lest they should think we are engaged here in some conspiracy.” + +And they returned together to the parlor. + +By this time it was midnight, and the moon was up. + +The old commodore, resisting all John Palmer’s hospitable entreaties to +spend the night at the Manor House, and declaring that he never slept +out of his own bed if he could help it, ordered the carriage and the +saddle horses to be brought to the door that he and his party might +return to The Breezes. + +“Mamma, dearest,” whispered Em., coming to the side of her beautiful +lady mother—“mamma, dearest, leave me here for a few days with my _poor +mother_, till she gets used to thinking of this change. Her heart is +almost broken, mamma. You will leave me here a little while?” + +“Yes, tender soul, I will leave you here to comfort your ‘poor mother.’ +My own heart bleeds for that ‘poor mother.’ I will leave you with her +for the present. It will not be for long, however; Susan’s own sense of +right will cause her to bring you to me very soon.” + +John and Susan Palmer were touched even to tears when they learned that +Em. was to be left with them for the present. + +“Just when he has returned and they have found her, and the lady so fond +of her even before she knew who the child was!” whimpered Susan, drying +her eyes on her apron. + +“‘Sich is life,’” said John, in lack of anything else to say, and never +had he quoted his favorite scrap of philosophy more _out_ of place. + +When the commodore and his party were entering the carriage and mounting +the horses, Susan Palmer and Em. stood with the lantern to light them. + +When they had gone, Susan still lingered as if spellbound to the spot. + +“What is the matter, mother dear?” inquired the girl. + +“I was thinking, Em., that, after all, my poor baby did die.” + +“Oh, dear mother, don’t use that word that you have so often told me +isn’t true. The little baby didn’t die. It went to heaven with your own +children, and instead of the baby on earth, you have another angel in +heaven—an angel daughter as much fairer and brighter than she could have +been on earth, as—look up, dear mother!—as that beautiful, brilliant +star you see overhead, is fairer and brighter than this dull lantern we +hold.” + +When they re-entered the house, Em. said: + +“I am going upstairs to send old Aunt Monica to bed, and to take her +place by poor Aunty Whitlock. I can never believe she was wicked at +heart.” + +Meanwhile, Commodore Bruce and his party pursued their moonlight journey +home, where they arrived about two o’clock in the morning. + +To their surprise they found the family all up and the house lighted +above and below. + +“They must have sat up for us. It was foolish for them all to sit up for +us,” said the old commodore, as he led the way into the house. + +They were met in the drawing-room by Mrs. Templeton. + +“Did you meet the messenger?” inquired that lady. + +“No; what messenger?” + +“Aleck was sent to the Wilderness to tell you.” + +“What?” + +“Malvina Warde is dead.” + +“DEAD!” echoed the whole party in consternation. + +“Yes.” + +“When?” + +“How did it happen?” + +“It seems that she did not sleep well, and about an hour ago, hearing +the clock strike one, and hearing the family still stirring below, she +woke up her daughter, who was sleeping beside her, and asked what kept +the family up so late. Belinda replied that they were waiting for the +commodore and his party, who had gone to the Wilderness Manor-house to +see the dying woman, Ann Whitlock. Whereupon Mrs. Warde got out of bed +and went across the room, it was thought to procure a glass of water. In +coming back to the bed she fell heavily to the floor. Belinda sprang out +of bed and ran to her mother’s help, and raised her head from the floor. +But she was quite dead.” + +“She had organic disease of the heart. It might have been expected,” +said Dr. Willet curtly. + +“Vengeance is mine, and I will repay, saith the Lord,” reverently +murmured Leonidas Bruce, raising his hat. + +Whether Malvina Warde died of heart disease or of prussic acid +self-administered, can never now be known. Her remains lie in the family +burial ground in the Wilderness Manor, beside those of her tool and +victim, Ann Whitlock, who penitently and peacefully expired the same +night, with her hand clasped in that of her beloved foster-child, Em. + +Belinda Warde was mercifully spared the knowledge of her mother’s crime. +Immediately after the funeral she accepted the invitation of Mrs. +Delaney Fanning, and went to make her home with that lady at beautiful +“Belle Plains,” until her marriage the next year to a middle-aged +colonel of marines. + +Susan Palmer fully justified Emolyn’s faith in her sense of right. After +keeping Em. for a few days, she voluntarily brought the girl to The +Breezes, and willingly and cheerfully surrendered her to the charge of +her rightful parents. + +“We bring up our darters in care and toil, and if we don’t lose ’em by +death, we’re most sure to lose ’em by marriage. So what dif’ence do it +make anyway, Susan, my dear, when ‘sich is life?’” said John when his +wife came back without his favorite child. + +“Em. loves us and we love her, therefore we can never really lose her in +this world nor the next,” answered Susan. + +Among all who rejoiced in the good fortune of our little girl, none did +so more sincerely than the poor colored people of the Wilderness Manor, +whose affections her goodness had won. + +“Miss Em. deserves it all,” said old ’Sias, the gatekeeper—“Miss Em. +deserves all that, and more too. For I never knowed sich a little angel +as she is in all the days of my yethly pilgrimage, and that mus’ be by +dis time ’bout two hundred years, chillun! Two hundred years, more or +less—more or _less_, honies; for I wouldn’t be guilty of a falsehood on +no account,” added ’Sias, solemnly. + +“Yes, Miss Em. was a good gal, sure enough,” put in Aunt Sally. “Miss +Em. never meant no harm, and she never did nothing to nobody.” + +“‘_Never did nothing to nobody!_’” repeated old ’Sias, in supreme scorn. +“_That’s_ your notion of an angel and of Miss Em., is it? You put my +pipe out with your ‘Never did nothing to nobody!’ Miss Em. was always +doing good to everybody, there!” + +“Well, I thinks as people what means no harm and never does nothing to +nobody is a heap gooder than them as is always a-aggrawating people,” +retorted Sally. + +Before taking leave of old ’Sias I must mention one circumstance of +which I hope my readers will be glad, for his sake. + +Sereny, to use her own words, “got religion.” She really _did_, if a +total though gradual change of heart and life and manners for the better +was any proof of it. And she became at last what she had promised to be +at first, the comfort of her poor, old, patient husband’s latter days. + +In the spring of the following year Ronald and Emolyn were married. + +Ronald, who was, in the right of his wife, the owner and the heir of +more wealth than he would ever know what to do with, resigned his +commission in the Navy. + +“It is all very well,” he said, “to talk of the duty of serving one’s +country, but there are hundreds of men who are just as able and as +willing to serve as I am, and who need my position a great deal more +than I do. I must resign to make room for one of them—as well as to stay +home with my bonny bride.” + +Of course Em. agreed with him in this. + +Their honeymoon was spent at Edengarden, while the Wilderness +Manor-house, which had been given to Em. as her marriage portion, was +being renovated to receive the newly wedded pair. + +John Palmer and his family were to continue to live in the Red Wing and +manage the estate. + +Mr. and Mrs. Leonidas Bruce consented to reside at The Breezes as long +as the aged commodore should live. + + + THE END + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + POPULAR BOOKS + + + By MRS. E. D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH + + In Handsome Cloth Binding + + Price per volume, 60 Cents + + Beautiful Fiend, A + Brandon Coyle’s Wife + Sequel to A Skeleton in the Closet + Bride’s Fate, The + Sequel to The Changed Brides + Bride’s Ordeal, The + Capitola’s Peril + Sequel to the Hidden Hand + Changed Brides, The + Cruel as the Grave + David Lindsay + Sequel to Gloria + Deed Without a Name, A + Dorothy Harcourt’s Secret + Sequel to A Deed Without a Name + “Em” + Em’s Husband + Sequel to “Em” + Fair Play + For Whose Sake + Sequel to Why Did He Wed Her? + For Woman’s Love + Fulfilling Her Destiny + Sequel to When Love Commands + Gloria + Her Love or Her life + Sequel to The Bride’s Ordeal + Her Mother’s Secret + Hidden Hand, The + How He Won Her + Sequel to Fair Play + Ishmael + Leap in the Dark, A + Lilith + Sequel to the Unloved Wife + Little Nea’s Engagement + Sequel to Nearest and Dearest + Lost Heir, The + Lost Lady of Lone, The + Love’s Bitterest Cup + Sequel to Her Mother’s Secret + Mysterious Marriage, The + Sequel to A Leap in the Dark + Nearest and Dearest + Noble Lord, A + Sequel to The Lost Heir + Self-Raised + Sequel to Ishmael + Skeleton in the Closet, A + Struggle of a Soul, The + Sequel to The Lost Lady of Lone + Sweet Love’s Atonement + Test of Love, The + Sequel to A Tortured Heart + To His Fate + Sequel to Dorothy Harcourt’s Secret + Tortured Heart, A + Sequel to The Trail of the Serpent + Trail of the Serpent, The + Tried for Her Life + Sequel to Cruel as the Grave + Unloved Wife, The + Unrequited Love, An + Sequel to For Woman’s Love + Victor’s Triumph + Sequel to A Beautiful Fiend + When Love Commands + When Shadows Die + Sequel to Love’s Bitterest Cup + Why Did He Wed Her? + Zenobia’s Suitors + Sequel to Sweet Love’s Atonement + + For Sale by all Booksellers or will be sent postpaid on receipt of + price, + A. L. BURT COMPANY, PUBLISHERS + 52 Duane Street New York + + Copyright 1876–1892 + BY ROBERT BONNER’S SONS + Renewal granted to Mrs. Charlotte Southworth Lawrence, 1904 + + EM’S HUSBAND + + Printed by special arrangement with STREET & SMITH + + + + + Good Fiction Worth Reading. + + +A series of romances containing several of the old favorites in the +field of historical fiction, replete with powerful romances of love and +diplomacy that excel in thrilling and absorbing interest. + +=A COLONIAL FREE-LANCE.= A story of American Colonial Times. By Chauncey +C. Hotchkiss. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson Davis. +Price, $1.00. + + A book that appeals to Americans as a vivid picture of Revolutionary + scenes. The story is a strong one, a thrilling one. It causes the true + American to flush with excitement, to devour chapter after chapter, + until the eyes smart, and it fairly smokes with patriotism. The love + story is a singularly charming idyl. + +=THE TOWER OF LONDON.= A Historical Romance of the Times of Lady Jane +Grey and Mary Tudor. By Wm. Harrison Ainsworth. Cloth, 12mo. with four +illustrations by George Cruikshank. Price, $1.00. + + This romance of the “Tower of London” depicts the Tower as palace, + prison and fortress, with many historical associations. The era is the + middle of the sixteenth century. + + The story is divided into two parts, one dealing with Lady Jane Grey, + and the other with Mary Tudor as Queen, introducing other notable + characters of the era. Throughout the story holds the interest of the + reader in the midst of intrigue and conspiracy, extending considerably + over a half a century. + +=IN DEFIANCE OF THE KING.= A Romance of the American Revolution. By +Chauncey C. Hotchkiss. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson +Davis. Price, $1.00. + + Mr. Hotchkiss has etched in burning words a story of Yankee bravery, + and true love that thrills from beginning to end, with the spirit of + the Revolution. The heart beats quickly, and we feel ourselves taking + a part in the exciting scenes described. His whole story is so + absorbing that you will sit up far into the night to finish it. As a + love romance it is charming. + +=GARTHOWEN.= A story of a Welsh Homestead. By Allen Raine. Cloth, 12mo. +with four illustrations by J. Watson Davis. Price, $1.00. + + “This is a little idyl of humble life and enduring love, laid bare + before us, very real and pure, which in its telling shows us some + strong points of Welsh character—the pride, the hasty temper, the + quick dying out of wrath.... We call this a well-written story, + interesting alike through its romance and its glimpses into another + life than ours. A delightful and clever picture of Welsh village life. + The result is excellent.”—Detroit Free Press. + +=MIFANWY.= The story of a Welsh Singer. By Allan Raine. Cloth, 12mo. +with four illustrations by J. Watson Davis. Price, $1.00. + + “This is a love story, simple, tender and pretty as one would care to + read. The action throughout is brisk and pleasing; the characters, it + is apparent at once, are as true to life as though the author had + known them all personally. Simple in all its situations, the story is + worked up in that touching and quaint strain which never grows + wearisome, no matter how often the lights and shadows of love are + introduced. It rings true, and does not tax the imagination.”—Boston + Herald. + + For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by + the publishers, A. L. BURT COMPANY, 52–58 Duane St., New York. + +=DARNLEY.= A Romance of the times of Henry VIII. and Cardinal Wolsey. By +G. P. R. James. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson Davis. +Price, $1.00. + + In point of publication, “Darnley” is that work by Mr. James which + follows “Richelieu,” and, if rumor can be credited. It was owing to + the advice and insistence of our own Washington Irving that we are + indebted primarily for the story, the young author questioning whether + he could properly paint the difference in the characters of the two + great cardinals. And it is not surprising that James should have + hesitated; he had been eminently successful in giving to the world the + portrait of Richelieu as a man, and by attempting a similar task with + Wolsey as the theme, was much like tempting fortune. Irving insisted + that “Darnley” came naturally in sequence, and this opinion being + supported by Sir Walter Scott, the author set about the work. + + As a historical romance “Darnley” is a book that can be taken up + pleasurably again and again, for there is about it that subtle charm + which those who are strangers to the works of G. P. R. James have + claimed was only to be imparted by Dumas. + + If there was nothing more about the work to attract especial + attention, the account of the meeting of the kings on the historic + “field of the cloth of gold” would entitle the story to the most + favorable consideration of every reader. + + There is really but little pure romance in this story, for the author + has taken care to imagine love passages only between those whom + history has credited with having entertained the tender passion one + for another, and he succeeds in making such lovers as all the world + must love. + +=CAPTAIN BRAND, OF THE SCHOONER CENTIPEDE.= By Lieut. Henry A. Wise, +U.S.N. (Harry Gringo). Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson +Davis. Price, $1.00. + + The re-publication of this story will please those lovers of sea yarns + who delight in so much of the salty flavor of the ocean as can come + through the medium of a printed page, for never has a story of the sea + and those “who go down in ships” been written by one more familiar + with the scenes depicted. + + The one book of this gifted author which is best remembered, and which + will be read with pleasure for many years to come, is “Captain Brand,” + who, as the author states on his title page, was a “pirate of eminence + in the West Indies.” As a sea story pure and simple, “Captain Brand” + has never been excelled, and as a story of piratical life, told + without the usual embellishments of blood and thunder, it has no + equal. + +=NICK OF THE WOODS.= A story of the Early Settlers of Kentucky. By +Robert Montgomery Bird. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J. +Watson Davis. Price, $1.00. + + This most popular novel and thrilling story of early frontier life in + Kentucky was originally published in the year 1837. The novel, long + out of print, had in its day a phenomenal sale, for its realistic + presentation of Indian and frontier life in the early days of + settlement in the South, narrated in the tale with all the art of a + practiced writer. A very charming love romance runs through the story. + This new and tasteful edition of “Nick of the Woods” will be certain + to make many new admirers for this enchanting story from Dr. Bird’s + clever and versatile pen. + + For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the + publishers, =A. L. BURT COMPANY, 52–58 Duane St., New York=. + +=GUY FAWKES.= A Romance of the Gunpowder Treason. By Wm. Harrison +Ainsworth. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by George Cruikshank. +Price, $1.00. + + The “Gunpowder Plot” was a modest attempt to blow up Parliament, the + King and his Counsellors. James of Scotland, then King of England, was + weak-minded and extravagant. He hit upon the efficient scheme of + extorting money from the people by imposing taxes on the Catholics. In + their natural resentment to this extortion, a handful of bold spirits + concluded to overthrow the government. Finally the plotters were + arrested, and the King put to torture Guy Fawkes and the other + prisoners with royal vigor. A very intense love story runs through the + entire romance. + +=THE SPIRIT OF THE BORDER.= A Romance of the Early Settlers in the Ohio +Valley. By Zane Grey. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson +Davis. Price, $1.00. + + A book rather out of the ordinary is this “Spirit of the Border.” The + main thread of the story has to do with the work of the Moravian + missionaries in the Ohio Valley. Incidentally the reader is given + details of the frontier life of those hardy pioneers who broke the + wilderness for the planting of this great nation. Chief among these, + as a matter of course, is Lewis Wetzel, one of the most peculiar, and + at the same time the most admirable of all the brave men who spent + their lives battling with the savage foe, that others might dwell in + comparative security. + + Details of the establishment and destruction of the Moravian “Village + of Peace” are given at some length, and with minute description. The + efforts to Christianize the Indians are described as they never have + been before, and the author has depicted the characters of the leaders + of the several Indian tribes with great care, which of itself will be + of interest to the student. + + By no means least among the charms of the story are the vivid + word-pictures of the thrilling adventures, and the intense paintings + of the beauties of nature, as seen in the almost unbroken forests. + + It is the spirit of the frontier which is described, and one can by + it, perhaps, the better understand why men, and women, too, willingly + braved every privation and danger that the westward progress of the + star of empire might be the more certain and rapid. A love story, + simple and tender, runs through the book. + +=RICHELIEU.= A tale of France in the reign of King Louis XIII. By G. P. +R. James. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J. 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Again and again one lingers over the descriptions of the + character of that baby boy Moses, who came through the tempest, amid + the angry billows, pillowed on his dead mother’s breast. + + There is no more faithful portrayal of New England life than that + which Mrs. Stowe gives in “The Pearl of Orr’s Island.” + + For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the + publishers, =A. L. BURT COMPANY, 52–58 Duane St., New York=. + + + + + The Popular Charles Garvice Books + + +[Illustration: [book]] + +This series of Popular Fiction comprises the best novels written by that +popular author, Charles Garvice, well-known throughout England and +America for his stories dealing with the lives and interests of the +common people. + +Bound in Handsome Cloth Binding. + +All Copyright Books. =Price, 60 Cents.= + + =A Heritage of Hate=, or A Change of Heart. + =A Life’s Mistake=, or Love’s Forgiveness. + =A Modern Juliet=, or The Unknown Future. + =At Love’s Cost=, or Her Rival’s Triumph. + =Better than Life=, or Her Bitter Cup. + =By Devious Ways=, or Love Will Find a Way. + =Heart for Heart=, or Love’s Queer Pranks. + =In Cupid’s Chains=, or A Slave for Life. + =Just A Girl=, or The Strange Duchess. + =Love, The Tyrant=, or Where Her Heart Led. + =Maida=, or A Child of Sorrow. + =Marcia Drayton=, or Her Heart’s First Choice. + =Nell of Shorne Mills=, or One Heart’s Burden. + =Once in A Life=, or The Secret of Her Heart. + =Queen Kate=, or A Willful Lassie. + =The Outcast of the Family=, or A Battle of Love and Pride. + =The Story of A Passion=, or Guided by Her Heart. + =The Shadow of Her Life=, or Love’s Mistake. + =’Twas Love’s Fault=, or A Young Girl’s Trust. + =With All Her Heart=, or Love Begets Faith. + + For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the + publishers, =A. L. BURT COMPANY, 52–58 Duane St., New York=. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES + + + Page Changed from Changed to + + 22 “Em., hush! you’re crazy!” “Em., hush! you’re crazy!” + broken in Susan Palmer broke in Susan Palmer + + 43 clapped her hands over he clapped her hands over he + own lips own lips + + everywhere Abishav or Abishag Abishey + + ● Typos fixed; non-standard spelling and dialect retained. + ● Enclosed italics font in _underscores_. + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76916 *** diff --git a/76916-h/76916-h.htm b/76916-h/76916-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6d800d4 --- /dev/null +++ b/76916-h/76916-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,16818 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> + <head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title>Em’s Husband | Project Gutenberg</title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + body { margin-left: 8%; margin-right: 10%; } + h1 { text-align: center; 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+ page-break-before: always; } + .border {border-style: solid;border-width: medium; padding: 1em; clear: both; } + .x-ebookmaker p.dropcap:first-letter { float: left; } + </style> + </head> + <body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76916 ***</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'><i>EM’S HUSBAND</i><br> <i>A Sequel to “Em”</i></h1> +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c002'> + <div><span class='xlarge'>By MRS. E. D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH</span></div> + <div class='c003'>Author of</div> + <div>“Ishmael,” “Self-Raised,” “Lilith,” “The Unloved Wife,” “Why Did He Wed Her?” Etc.</div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/i_title.jpg' alt='[Logo]' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> + <div class='nf-center'> + <div><span class='large'>A. L. BURT COMPANY</span></div> + <div><span class='large'>PUBLISHERS      ::      ::      NEW YORK</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='chapter ph1'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c004'> + <div>EM’S HUSBAND</div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_3'>3</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER I<br> <span class='c006'>TO THE ISLAND</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c007'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>On the cliff-bounded stream!</div> + <div class='line'>When it is summer noon,</div> + <div class='line'>And all the land is still,</div> + <div class='line'>But on the water’s face</div> + <div class='line'>The merry breeze is playing,</div> + <div class='line'>Whitening a ripple here and there.</div> + <div class='line in30'><span class='sc'>H. Alford.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c008'>The pretty <i>White Dove</i> lay rocking at its moorings. It +was gray on the outside and white within, and as clean +and nice as any little boat need be.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Old ’Sias handed his young passenger into it, and made +her very comfortable on a seat in the stern.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Then he loosened the chain of the boat, spread the snowy +sail to the breeze, took the tiller in his hand and steered for +the island.</p> + +<p class='c009'>They had a beautiful run down the river.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The clear bosom of the water, reflecting the brilliant +morning sky with its sunlit clouds, displayed all the blending +rainbow hues of rose, violet, azure, gold and green.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The shore on the right hand was a wide range of high, +undulating, wooded hills, rising one behind the other until +their outlines were melted amid the vapors of the distant +western horizon.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The shore on the left hand was a wall of lofty, rugged, +moss-studded cliffs, whose tops were lost among the clouds.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_4'>4</span>Before them, down the river, lay the lovely isle, with its +girdle of green trees, from the midst of which arose its +velvety green hill, crowned with its airy palace, whose high, +white walls and many crystal windows flashed and sparkled +in the sunshine.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, how heavenly the country is!” exclaimed Em. “I +always thought it was beautiful, but I never dreamed it was +so divine!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You come from the city, honey?” inquired the old man.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, but I never want to go back to it,” answered Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ay, ay! I never was in a city in my life. Dey say how +‘De Lord made de country and man made de town.’ Do +yer think dat is true, honey?” asked ’Sias.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, I <i>do</i>,” said Em., decidedly. “And if you could see +a town you’d think so, too.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, honey, I has libbed in dis yer sublunatic speer a +hundred and fifty years, more or <i>less</i>, and nebber sot eyes +on a city, nor likewise a town. But I libs in hopes to see +one, or both, ’fore ebber I ’parts for de glory land,” said +old ’Sias.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. did not reply; indeed she scarcely heard his words, +as her whole attention was fixed upon the lovely isle, to +whose shore they were now approaching so near that the +velvety green hill, crowned with its glittering white mansion, +was slowly sinking out of sight behind the beautiful +girdle of silver maple trees that encircled it like a halo of +soft light.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Here we is, honey,” said old ’Sias, as he drew down +the little sail, and, taking an oar, pushed the boat up among +a shoal of white water-lilies that surrounded the shores.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Then ’Sias moved the <i>White Dove</i> to a water-post, and +got out and offered his hand to his passenger, saying:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Jump for it, honey, so as to clear de wet sand and +light wid dry feet on de rock here.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. followed his direction and landed dry-shod.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Then they picked their way over a bank of violets and +pansies, snow-drops and other wild flowers, and then +through a thicket of eglantines, sweet-briers, and wild roses, +and honeysuckles, and next through a grove of acacias or +flowering locusts, and finally through the belt of silver +maples and then up the verdant hill, that was beautifully +<span class='pageno' id='Page_5'>5</span>laid off in groves of fragrant, flowering trees, adorned with +statues, arbors and fountains; in parterres of the most +brilliant and odoriferous shrubs and flowers; and in green +terraces, rising one above another, and reached by white +stone steps and leading quite up to the colonnaded porch +of the glistening white mansion, with its many sparkling, +crystal windows and its balconies, verandas and porches. +Around the white columns that supported the piazzas were +twined the most beautiful and fragrant rose-vines and +climbing plants.</p> + +<p class='c009'>It was a place of more than ideal beauty; it was a home +of paradisiacal loveliness.</p> + +<p class='c009'>It was no dreamy solitude now, however. On the highest +terrace in front of the house were seated about seventy +persons, of both sexes and all ages, colors and conditions—a +very small congregation, but making up in devout attention +for what they lacked in numbers, as they listened +silently, with upturned, intent faces, to the preacher, who +was concealed from the newcomers by an intervening, rose-wreathed +column.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am afraid we are late,” whispered Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, honey, we is. The sermon is begun. We sha’n’t +hear de tex’ ’less he repeats it, which he may; but what we +will hear will be wort’ comin’ for, I tell yer. Hush, honey; +come ’long here. Here’s a good seat, and right good view ob +de preacher, too.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. took the seat indicated on the broad pedestal of a +group of statuary, representing Faith, Hope and Charity, +that stood on the second terrace. Her position was a little +below the crowd, but gave her a plenty of space and a good +view of the preacher.</p> + +<p class='c009'>And that preacher! How shall I be able to present him +vividly before my readers—that blind orator of the wilderness, +who labored among the few—the poor and the ignorant—but +who ought to have had a world-wide field and +fame.</p> + +<p class='c009'>He stood on the highest step of the stairs leading up to +the colonnaded piazza in front of the house, so facing his +audience. He was a man of colossal stature, with the shoulders +of Hercules and the beauty of Apollo. His face was +of the pure Grecian type, and his countenance was full of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_6'>6</span>intellect, majesty and tenderness. The top of his head was +high, spherical and perfectly bald, but a fringe of golden +hair at the back of his neck came around and almost +touched the flow of golden beard that fell from chin to +bosom. His eyes were blue, large, full, clear and wonderfully +brilliant and mobile! He was dressed in a white linen +coat and white duck trousers, and wore white morocco slippers +on his feet. He stood by a great white marble vase, +from which an almond tree grew, and he rested his left hand +upon the vase. That was the only support he had.</p> + +<p class='c009'>With parted lips, suspended breath and rapt attention +Em. gazed on the stranger. She had never seen so god-like +a man. That the magnificent form should have been struck +with paralysis seemed incredible; that those splendid, +radiant, soaring eyes, with their flying glances and rapt +gaze, should be blind seemed impossible.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. could scarcely believe it.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I should think they had light enough <i>within</i> them to +see in the dark; that they would never need the sun as we +do,” she whispered in awe-struck tones.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“That’s what we all say, honey. He has the light <i>inside</i> +of his eyes. But he is stone blind for all that, honey.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Hush! hush! Let me hear <i>him</i>,” said Em., as she bent +her whole attention upon the preacher.</p> + +<p class='c009'>He had evidently got well on in his sermon before the +late arrival of these last comers. They had not heard his +text, but they soon comprehended his subject. It was threefold—</p> + +<p class='c009'>Faith, Love, Works.</p> + +<p class='c009'>I shall not risk spoiling the blind preacher’s sermon by +attempting any report of it here. I will only say that in +simple, eloquent words, which went directly to every heart, +he explained to them—</p> + +<p class='c009'>How Faith without Love was cold, and either, or both, +without Works, dead. How Faith and Love must go forth +in good uses; must go forth, through brain, heart and hand +in good thoughts, good feelings and good deeds to all.</p> + +<p class='c009'>He told them it was not enough we should cease to <i>do</i> +ill to our neighbor, but we should cease to <i>speak</i> ill, or +even to <i>think</i> ill of him. We should do good to him or do +nothing; speak well of him or be silent; think the best of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_7'>7</span>him or not at all; that thus, by the Lord’s help, we should +come into the life of Faith, Hope and Charity—the life +of love to the Lord and the neighbor, in which all men +should live in this world, and in which all should wish to +enter the world beyond.</p> + +<p class='c009'>He told them the vast significance of this word +“neighbor”; how it had reached from the highest created +being to the lowest; how he who “needlessly set foot upon +a worm,” sinned in the same manner, if not in the same +degree, as he who tortured or sacrificed a hero or a martyr.</p> + +<p class='c009'>He begged them to take this truth home with them that +all might be the better and the happier for it.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The sermon was followed by a fervent prayer, an inspiring +hymn, in which nearly all the congregation joined, and +lastly, by the benediction.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. saw the blind preacher raise his radiant face toward +heaven to invoke the blessing, and she reverently bowed +her head until he had ceased to speak.</p> + +<p class='c009'>When she lifted it to look at him again he had disappeared +and his hearers were dispersing.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. turned inquiring eyes upon old Josias.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“He’s only dropped down in his chair, behind the rose-vines, +honey. Dat’s allers de way. ’Pears like arter de +benediction he gibs right out,” the old man explained.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And you tell me that man is blind? ’Sias, I cannot +realize it! Blind! Why, ’Sias, how <i>could</i> he be blind when, +at several places in his sermon that suited my case, he +looked me right straight in the eyes as if he pointed his +words directly to me? How could he know I sat there unless +he could see me? How could he see me unless he had +sight, and very excellent sight, too?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Honey, I don’t know. Dat’s what ’stonishes us all; for +dat’s de way he looks at us all, right in our eyes, right into +our hearts, too. I dunno how it is. He is stone blind, dat +is sartain sure, and yet he talks to yer wid his eyes as plain +as anybody can speak. Maybe, honey, <i>his soul’s eyes sees +your soul</i>; for he told us in one of his sermons how we was +all souls that had bodies to live in; and not bodies that had +souls; and how our souls were ourselves, and our bodies +only our houses of flesh, our clothing, our instrument, that +we were always using up and wearing out and having to repair +<span class='pageno' id='Page_8'>8</span>by eating and drinking and breathing; but how we +ourselves never did wear out.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I should like to have heard that,” said Em., with a +hungry look in her eyes.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“’Nother time, honey, what do yer think he said? It +was a hard sayin’ for us poor sinners, now I tell yer! He +said the hardest resurrection was the resurrection of our +souls out of de death of selfishness.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>While the two had sat talking all the rest of the rural +congregation had separated and gone down by the various +paths leading from the hill to the shores of the island, all +around which, at various landings, their boats were moored.</p> + +<p class='c009'>At length the old man arose and put on his hat, saying:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Come, honey.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, Uncle ’Sias, don’t you think we might walk up +these steps and walk around the beautiful rose-wreathed +piazza and see the lovely oriel windows and balconies?” inquired +Em. in a coaxing voice.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Sartin sure, honey! Come along!” replied the good-natured +old fellow, leading the way.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Up they went to the elegant porch with its rows of white +stone pillars, wreathed around with climbing red and white +roses, all in full bloom, on the outer side, and adorned with +rows of crystal windows on the inner side. These windows +had white shutters that closed within the house.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. looked at these closed shutters with the curiosity and +longing of Blue Beard’s wife when the latter contemplated +the closed chamber.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Would you like to see inside de house, honey?” demanded +the old man.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh! would I not?” exclaimed Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, den you can, honey. De lady as owns it is the +most free-hearted lady as ebber you seed. She lets anybody +walk ober and ober de island, and t’rough and t’rough de +house—less she dere herse’f, honey—den, to be sure, she +’serves her private rooms. You sit down here, honey, at de +front door and wait for me, and I’ll go round to de housekeeper’s +room, which I knows her, and she’ll let you see de +house if she can at my recommend.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, thank you, dear Uncle ’Sias. I will wait here joyfully +<span class='pageno' id='Page_9'>9</span>until you come back,” eagerly exclaimed Emolyn, as +she seated herself on the threshold of the front door.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The old man went down the front and around to the +rear of the premises, while Em., sitting on the threshold +of this fairy palace, let her delighted eyes rove around over +rose-wreathed pillars, vine-clad balconies, oriel windows, +trellised terraces, flowery lawns, fountains, statues, lakelets, +groves and sparkling rivulets running down to the river.</p> + +<p class='c009'>After a short absence the old man returned with a single +key in his hand, saying, as he twirled it in his fingers:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I can show you de hall and de grand saloon, honey, and +de drawing-rooms and library, which are all on dis floor +at dis front ob de house; but all de oder rooms are closed +and can’t be shown.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Is the lady at home, then?” inquired Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, honey.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Then why may we not see the whole of the house?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I dunno, chile; I didn’t ax her,” replied ’Sias, who was +not so much interested in the mystery as was the young +questioner.</p> + +<p class='c009'>By this time he had slowly unlocked and opened the front +door, admitting them into the hall.</p> + +<p class='c009'>This hall was circular in shape, spacious in size and lofty +in height, reaching from the inlaid white marble floor to the +crystal dome that formed the roof and lighted the whole +scene. Around the polished white walls of this fair circle +were doorways, hung with curtains of blue silk and white +lace, leading into many lovely rooms.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The old guide beckoned Em. to follow him, and pulling +aside the blue and white curtains of a doorway on his left, +led the way into an oval-shaped saloon, with an oval window +in front and a semi-circular mirror exactly opposite in the +rear. This mirror was so artistically contrived that it reflected +all the varied island scenery from the oriel window, +and gave the saloon the appearance of being open and +illimitable in length. This beautiful room was furnished +entirely in white and blue—the walls being of polished +white panels that shone like porcelain and having cornices +of blue; the side windows and doorways draped with blue +silk and white lace; the carpet white velvet bordered with +blue; the chairs and sofas covered with white velvet +<span class='pageno' id='Page_10'>10</span>trimmed with blue; the stands and tables of pure white +marble tops, supported on blue-veined marble pedestals; the +statues and statuettes, both in groups and single pieces, all +of Parian marble; the jars and vases of blue Sèvres china. +And what was still more unique in its harmony, the pictures +that filled up all the spaces between the side doors and +windows were framed in frosted silver plate, and the subjects +were all of a bright, aerial, happy type—“Spring,” +“Morning,” “Hope,” “Youth.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em., “embarrassed with the riches” of these beauties, +gazed in delight upon the whole room, and then began to +examine the pictures, pausing in a rapture of admiration +before each.</p> + +<p class='c009'>But suddenly in her progress she started, uttered a slight +cry and stood perfectly still before a picture that hung between +two lofty windows on the side of the saloon opposite +to the door leading into the hall.</p> + +<p class='c009'>It was the full-length portrait of a lady, tall, elegantly +formed, gracefully posed and clothed in white from head to +foot; a white satin robe that fell from her rounded bust +to her feet and drifted about them in soft white clouds; +white satin hanging sleeves, open from the shoulders and +half revealing the shapely arms; and over all, head, bust +and waist, a large, flowing silver gauze veil that fell to her +feet, half concealing, half revealing the resplendant beauty +of the head and face with the bright, sun-gilded, auburn +hair; with the perfect, chiseled Grecian features, the snowwhite +complexion and large, mournful blue eyes half hidden +under their snowy, drooping lids. The background of this +form was a deep, cloudless, twilight sky. There was nothing +else, nothing to divert attention from the beautiful, spiritual, +mysterious form of the lady.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. gazed upon it with breathless attention. It was not +the spiritual beauty and mystery of this veiled figure alone +that fixed her gaze—it was the “counterfeit presentment” +of the moonlight apparition she had seen in the old hall.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Whose portrait is this?” she demanded in low, breathless +tones of the old man, who had come to her side.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I dunno, honey, ’less it’s de White Spirit’s. Seems like +it might be, from all accounts of her,” replied ’Sias.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. said no more, but remained gazing fixedly at the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_11'>11</span>picture, as she would not have dared to gaze at the apparition.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Yes, it was the very same form! the very same features! +the same sunlit, auburn tresses! the same pure, clear-cut, +alabaster profile! the same large, drooping blue eyes—even +the same flowing silver gauze veil and white satin robe!</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. shivered, half in terror, half in admiration, and felt +for the moment as if she should lose her reason.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Old ’Sias waited with exemplary patience, but as minute +after minute passed and the young girl stood there as +motionless as if she had “taken root,” the old man thought +proper at last to break the spell by saying:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Come, honey, it’s getting on to two o’clock. If yer want +to see de drawing-rooms and de library and de boody we’d +better be a-movin’.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, I will not look at anything else this morning,” said +Em., with her eyes still fixed upon the picture.</p> + +<p class='c009'>In his surprise old ’Sias stared at the spellbound girl, +and then suddenly uttered a loud exclamation that startled +even her.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Why, what is the matter, Uncle ’Sias?” she inquired, +turning sharply around.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, my law, honey!” cried the old man, staring first +at her and then at the picture.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“What is it, then?” she repeated.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, honey, de <i>likeness</i>! <i>de ’strornary likeness!</i>” exclaimed +the amazed old man.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“What likeness, Uncle ’Sias?” inquired Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“’Twixt you and de picter, honey!—’twixt you and de +picter! Let alone de diffunce in de clo’s, de picter is de +image ob yer, honey! de same face, de same eyes, de same +hair! Well, law, I nebber did see such a likeness ’twixt +two in all de days ob my life!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“<i>Is</i> the picture so much like me? How strange,” said +Em. in perplexity as she gazed at the portrait and tried to +remember how her own face looked in the glass; but could +not do so.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“<i>Like</i> yer, honey? Well, chile, I has libbed in dis yer +sublunatic speer for a hund’ed and fifty year, more or less, +honey, more or less, an’ I nebber see no sech a likeness before, +dere!” solemnly replied the old negro.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_12'>12</span>“It is very wonderful! but everything about the picture +and—the lady, too—is wonderful,” said Em., as her mind +reverted to the apparition of the night previous.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Come, honey, I d’want to hurry yer; but de time is +gettin’ on, an’ Sereny—I promised of her to get back to +dinner at two o’clock, honey, an’ Sereny do have sich a +wiolent temper!” said old ’Sias uneasily.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Sereny?” questioned Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, honey, Sereny; that’s my wife, my second one, +chile, not my fust one, as has passed away to de gloryland +long ago, dough she wasn’t nuffin nigh as old as I was; no, +honey, Sereny is my young wife as I took las’ year to keep +me warm in my ole age—accordin’ to King David and +Abishey, honey, and true nuff, she <i>do</i> keep me warm—wid +her temper and her tongue, let alone de broomstick and de +hoe-helve, honey! An’ ef I don’t get home by two o’clock, +chile, I shall get hoe-helve ’stead of hoe-cake for dinner, +mine I tell you!” said the old man, sighing.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, let us hurry, then, and get back. I would not bring +you into trouble for anything in this world! But why do +you let a young woman treat a man of your venerable age +so disrespectfully and cruelly?” exclaimed Em., as she +turned to follow her conductor from the saloon.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, dare’s jes’ where it is! It’s <i>’cause</i> ob my wenerable +ole age! I’m de weakest—in de body, honey! in de +body! not in de mine! And she’s de strongest—in de body, +honey! in de body! not in de mine! and so she gets de better +ob me! And serb me right, too, come to think ob it! I +had no business to take Sereny! I wa’n’t no King David! +And she had no business to take me, which she did ’sake +ob libbin’ in de purty gate-lodge, so much purtier dan de +log cabins de odder colored folks lib in. But she keeps me +warm—dat’s so—wid de broomstick and de hoe-helve! +But, patience! it can’t las’ forebber, and some ob dese days +I shall go to sleep down here an’ wake up in de glory land, +where my <i>own</i> ole ’oman is waitin’ for me,” concluded ’Sias +as he carefully locked the outside door; and then he went +slowly down the steps and around to the rear of the premises +to restore the key to the housekeeper.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. remained standing where he had left her, with her +eyes fixed upon the ground, in a deep reverie, which continued +<span class='pageno' id='Page_13'>13</span>unbroken until the return of the old man, saying as +he came up: “Now, den, honey, for de boat.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. followed him down through the terraced grounds, +with their arbors, statues, fountains, parterres of flowers, +groves and ponds, and then through the wood of silver +maples, and the fragrant, blooming wood of acacias, to the +sandy shore, where sat the little <i>White Dove</i> brooding on +the waters.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. entered the boat and seated herself in the stern.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The old man followed her, hoisted the sail, and took the +tiller in his hand.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Leaving the lovely island behind he headed up stream +and steered for the Valley of the Wilderness. Now their +course lay half way between the river shores, having the +lofty, rugged, gray, rocky precipices on their right hand, +and the beautiful, undulating green and wooded hills on +their left.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Their progress was a little slower up stream than it had +been down, and so it was near three o’clock when at length +they landed at the foot of the little dilapidated pier belonging +to the old boat-house of the Wilderness.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Old ’Sias secured his boat and followed Em., who was +hurrying along the woodland walk that led from the landing +through the forest to the park gate.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, honey, it is late. Sereny’ll be wiolent, I tell yer!” +said ’Sias as he came up quite breathlessly.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. heard him, and wondered how she might save the +poor old man from suffering at the hands of his Xantippe.</p> + +<p class='c009'>At length, without stopping in her hurried walk, she unpinned +a pretty new neck-tie that she wore on her white +dress, smoothed out the folds and rolled it up, saying to +herself:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Bright blue ribbons must be rare luxuries of dress in +this Wilderness, and if it does not mollify the temper of +Madame Sereny, I do not know what will!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>They reached the park gate at last and passed through.</p> + +<p class='c009'>And there, sure enough, at the door of the lodge stood +the tall, handsome mulatto woman called, or rather miscalled, +Serena.</p> + +<p class='c009'>A heavy thunder-cloud was on her brow.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Her little, old, black dwarf of a husband shrank behind +<span class='pageno' id='Page_14'>14</span>Em., who walked smilingly up to the woman, saying +frankly:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“See what I have brought you, as a testimonial of my +gratitude to your husband for taking me to the island to +hear the blind preacher.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>And with these words she placed the bright blue scarf +in the woman’s hand.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Serena smiled, showing all her large, white, regular +ivories, and said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Thanky, Miss. How purty! Dere ain’t sich a scaff +in de whole county as dis! ’Deed, I’m ebber so much +obleeged to yer! Won’t yer come in an’ res’?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, I thank you. I have to hurry home to my father +and mother,” said Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, honey, dat’s right, too! Be dutiful to yer parients. +Thanky agin, Miss! And if ebber, so be, yer want my ’Sias +to take yer a rowin’ or a sailin’, he’ll <i>do</i> it, or I’ll know the +reason why he <i>don’t</i>. Come in, ’Sias, honey, yer dinner’s +all ready for yer,” concluded Sereny in a tone of such good +will that the old man smilingly followed her into the lodge, +while Em. hurried home feeling that all was well.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER II<br> <span class='c006'>THE AGENT</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c007'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>A man in middle age.</div> + <div class='line'>Busy, and hard to please. <span class='sc'>Taylor.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c008'>“Well, runaway! Where have you been all the morning?” +briskly inquired John Palmer as he ran down the +front steps to meet his favorite daughter as she came up +the heavily-shaded avenue.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“To a lovely island down the river, father, to hear a—heavenly +minister!” exclaimed Em. with a burst of enthusiasm.</p> + +<p class='c009'>And then, as they strolled leisurely on to the house, she +gave him, after the manner of young girls, a rapid, impetuous, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_15'>15</span>and graphic description of her morning’s adventures +and discoveries.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“An Edengarden and a White Spirit! Wery fantastical +names, Em. And, I reckon, just some of old ’Si’s yarns,” +quietly observed John as they entered the hall, where Susan +and old Monica were busy setting the table and preparing +the frugal dinner.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Gracious, Em., you’ve been away all day, and if it had +not been for that little black boy—Si’, he said his name +was—a coming and telling me you had gone to a preaching +with his grandfather, I shouldn’t a known what had become +o’ you,” said Susan.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But I wouldn’t have gone without sending you word, +mother. And, oh! as soon as ever we get quiet I have got +<i>so</i> much to tell you,” answered Em., as she took the loaf of +bread out of the good woman’s hand and began to cut it in +slices for the table.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The hall at this hour presented a very pleasant scene, +both the front and the back doors being open and admitting +a free current of the fresh summer air, laden with the +fragrance of the wild woods which grew closely all around +the house.</p> + +<p class='c009'>From the midst of the hall arose that grand staircase +with its lofty window at the top, forevermore mysterious +and memorable to Em. from the ghostly vision of the night +before.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Now, however, it looked a homely and familiar household +object enough, with the three little girls, Molly, Nelly and +Venny running up and down its richly-carpeted steps or +sliding on the balustrades.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. looked up at the high window and at such doors +in the upper hall as came within the range of her sight, +and with a natural curiosity, wondered into what manner +of places they led.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Mother,” she at length inquired, “have you looked into +any of the rooms above there?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, child, nor the rooms below, either. There hasn’t +been a door opened anywhere except into this hall. It is +Sunday, you know, and neither me nor your father believe +in doing any more work than we can help on this day, even +<span class='pageno' id='Page_16'>16</span>if we have just arrived at a strange place,” replied Susan +Palmer.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. fell into silent and self-reproachful thought, wondering +whether she had not committed a sin and broken the +Sabbath by going to look at the lovely white palace on the +island.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Don’t you like to live here, Em.? Ain’t it jolly? Ain’t +this a splendid old hall? I would like to stay here always, +even if they didn’t give us any more of the house to live in +than just this. Wouldn’t you?” inquired her youngest +brother, Tom, who had just come in with a pail of fresh +water from the well.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, it’s bully! It’s like a picnic or camp-meeting what +Aunt Monica used to tell us about,” chimed in Ned, who +was piling up a little heap of brush in a corner.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I hope they’ll let us stay just here, where we can slide on +the banisters all day long,” sung out little Nelly from her +perch on the stairs.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Them children will break their necks! John, can’t you +make them come down and behave themselves? They don’t +mind me one bit!” cried out Mrs. Palmer, pausing in the +midst of slicing cold ham.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Lor’, Susan, woman, young uns is like kittens and +monkeys. It is their natur’ to climb. ‘Sich is life;’ and +it’s cruel to perwent ’em; besides, these poor things never +had a chance to climb in all their lives before.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And now they’ll go it, you may depend! They’ll be +swarming up all these trees like bees before the week is out +if you encourage them so.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, I hope they will. It will do ’em good. ‘Sich is +life,’” concluded aggravating John.</p> + +<p class='c009'>All this time Em. had made no remark, but was silently +putting the dinner on the table. It was a cold dinner of +bread, butter, ham, pies and well water; for neither Susan +nor John would have any cooking done on Sunday.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I think I like this gypsy sort of life myself,” said John +as he began to drag the heavy, high-backed oaken chair +from the wall up to the table.</p> + +<p class='c009'>They were all about to sit down to dinner when they +were interrupted by the sudden entrance of a little, elderly, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_17'>17</span>dark-skinned man with snapping black eyes, a brisk manner, +a quick step and a short tone.</p> + +<p class='c009'>All the family started up.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“‘Sich is life,’” said John.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well-well-well!” the intruder exclaimed, running his +words together in swift repetition. “Well-well-well! So +here you are at last! So here you are at last!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, sir,” said John Palmer, rising and saluting the +stranger who had taken him so much by surprise. “Yes, +sir, we reached here all right. You are the agent of the +property, I presume, sir—Mr. Comical?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“<i>Car</i>-michael, man! <i>Car</i>-michael! But what the deuce +are you doing here in the grand hall? Grand hall—grand +hall—grand hall! Eh-eh-eh?” quickly demanded the brisk +little man.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Excuse me, sir. ‘Sich is life.’ We are doing no harm. +We reached here last night too late to do anything more +than to throw ourselves down here. This being the Sabbath day, +we could not make a change without breaking the +commandment; but to-morrow we will go into the quarters +provided for us, if you will kindly direct us where they +are,” said John.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I see! I see! I see! And meantime you are cooking +your dinners on the very hearths where the old cavalier lords +of the manor used only to roast their own shins! Well-well-well! +I suppose it can’t be helped for to-day—to-day—to-day!” +replied the nervous little old man with rapid reiteration.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You have likely had a long ride this morning, sir. +Won’t you sit up and take some dinner?” inquired John +politely.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I thank you! Yes-yes-yes! I believe I will! I believe +I will!” said the agent frankly, taking the chair that one +of the boys vacated for him.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“That is my wife, sir,” said John, indicating the good +woman at the head of the table.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes-yes-yes! So I should have supposed! I hope you +are very well, ma’am!” exclaimed the quick visitor, and +then, without waiting for an answer, he turned to his host, +and pointing with his fork to Mrs. Whitlock, said: “And +<span class='pageno' id='Page_18'>18</span>the other respectable old party, your mother-in-law? +mother-in-law? mother-in-law?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, though she do lectur’ me to that extent, she might +as well be,” laughed John as he resumed his place at the +foot of the table and helped his guest to ham.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well-well-well!” said the agent after he had taken the +edge off his appetite with several slices of bread and ham. +“Well-well! as your conscience will not permit you to move +on Sunday, and as I can’t stay here till Monday, I’ll just +indicate where you are to lodge yourself and family. It is +in the rear of the manor-house. We call it The Red Wing.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, sir, I know exactly the place you mean. It is just +under the shadow of the mountain and is built of a different +colored stone from the rest of the house—a red stone.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes-yes-yes! Very fine specimen of old red sandstone, +while the main building is of blue limestone. You’ll do, +you’ll do, you’ll do! And now I will give you this paper, +which contains full instructions as to your duties here, and +I will leave it with you for reference,” said the agent, handing +over to John a very formidable looking document in a +long, yellow envelope, tied with red tape.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I will study this to-morrow morning,” said Palmer, +stowing it away in the breast pocket of his coat.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I will rest here until the heat of the day is over, and +then leave my horse here and take a fresh one and return-return-return,” +said the agent as they all arose from the +table when the frugal meal was ended.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Leaving the women to clear away the table, John Palmer +and his guest walked down on the front lawn, if lawn that +could be called which was so thickly covered with trees as +to be only the skirt of the deep forest that lay between the +house and the river.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You spoke about your horse. I hope he is taken care +of, sir. If so it had a been that I had knowed when you +first came I’d a taken care of him myself,” said Palmer +apologetically.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, don’t bother, don’t bother!” exclaimed the visitor +as he threw himself down at full length under one of the +large shade trees, took a pipe and pouch of tobacco from +his pocket, filled and lighted the pipe from a match, and +began to smoke, continuing to talk between his whiffs.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_19'>19</span>“Bless you, man, I’m more at home here, more at home, +more at home than you are. I just rode around to the +stable, gave my horse to Seth, the head groom, and then +walked on to the house. The horse belongs here. I have +none of my own, none of my own; but I have the privilege +of using these, using these. I shall take a fresh one, a fresh +one, a fresh one, when I go back. But, sit down, man, sit +down, sit down. I want to talk to you about something +else, and it tires me to see you standing.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>John seated himself under the tree at some little distance +from the agent, who then, lowering his tone, inquired:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Slept in the house last night, didn’t you? Slept in the +house, slept in the house?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes,” replied John. “I told you so, you know.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes-yes-yes-yes! So you did! Hem! See anything +unusual?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Sir?” inquired John in a bewilderment.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“See anything unsual—unusual—unusual?” rapidly reiterated +the little man, fixing his keen black eyes on Palmer’s +face.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I beg pardon. I—I don’t understand,” said John.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Any disturbance in the night—any fright-fright-fright?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Not in the least. But now that reminds me that the +same question was asked by old ’Si, the gate-porter, this +morning! But I answered him as I answer you: nothing +disturbed us. As far as I know we all slept like tops—we +always do. What <i>should</i> have disturbed us?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Nothing-nothing-nothing! Bats, mice, wind! Nothing +more, <i>I</i> verily believe! But there are a lot of idiots who +have got a story up about the old manor-house being +haunted-haunted-haunted!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Rubbish!” said John with all the strong contempt of a +practical man for the supernatural.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“So I say, so I say.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But I wish, for all that, no one would hint any sich a +thing to the women and girls. It might trouble them. +‘Sich is life.’”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No-no-no-no! But even if such a rumor should reach +their ears it need not alarm them. It is only the old manor-house +<span class='pageno' id='Page_20'>20</span>that the fools say is full of ghosts, ghosts, ghosts! +Not the wing, not the wing!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>While the two men talked together they perceived the +slow approach of some figure through the trees, which soon +revealed itself to be old ’Sias, the gatekeeper.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, well, old man, what do you want? What do you +want?” demanded the agent, ill-pleased at the intrusion.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Nothing werry particular, marster; only to pay my dispects +to yer, sar, and I no more knowin’ as you was here till +dat boy Seth told me! I nebber was more s’prised in my +life, no, not since I was a boy, and dat wa’n’t yes’day, +marster! Dat must a been a hundred and fifty year ago, +more or less!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Humph-humph-humph! To hear <i>you</i> talk, old man, +one would think you might remember Noah’s flood,” said +the agent.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, no, marster, not quite: but <i>I</i> s’pects my grand-daddy +did; ’caze I has heerd him ’scribe it, when he was a +little boy,” gravely replied the old man.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes-yes-yes. I see! Mendacity comes to you quite legitimately, +handed down from father to son,” said the +agent.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, sar, so it do indeed, marster, sar, and few colored +fam’lies is as much favored in dat ’spect as ours,” said old +’Sias so innocently that the agent looked half ashamed of +himself.</p> + +<p class='c009'>To change the subjects, as well as to utilize the old man, +Mr. Carmichael said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, now that you are here, ’Sias, do me the favor to +walk down to the stable and tell Seth to saddle Saladin for +me, and bring him around here.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, marster, wid de greatest pleasure in life,” said +’Sias, moving off.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And here-here-here! Come back here! Here’s a dollar +for a present to buy tobacco pipes with,” added Carmichael, +thrusting the broad silver coin in his hand.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Thanky, marster, a thousand times, and I hab the hoss +round here for yer in no time. T’anks be to goodness, +Sereny don’t know nuffin’ ’tall ’bout my habbin’ ob <i>dis</i> +money! Ain’t me and her been in de way ob getting presents +to-day? She a sky-blue scarf, and me dis here dollar! +<span class='pageno' id='Page_21'>21</span>But, dere! I ain’t a gwine to let Sereny know nuffin’ ’tall +’bout dis here dollar. ’Cause if I did—hush, honey!—she’d +dance a war-dance ’round me, and scalp de top o’ my head +off but what she’d hab every blessed cent ob it,” muttered +the old man to himself as he carefully stowed away his +prize in the lowest recesses of his trowsers’ pocket and hurried +away down a little foot-path leading through the +thicket in the direction of the stables.</p> + +<p class='c009'>While waiting for his horse the agent occupied the +time in giving the new overseer some general information +about the situation. He told Palmer that the Wilderness +Manor had always been in the possession of the Elphine +family; but that the last male descendant of the race had +suddenly left the house on the marriage of his cousin, many, +many years before, and had lived abroad; that very lately +he had died in Paris, unmarried and intestate, and the +manor had fallen to the only daughter of that cousin whose +marriage he had taken in such high dudgeon.</p> + +<p class='c009'>He went on to say that this lady—whose confidential +agent he, Peter Carmichael, was—had come in person to +visit her new inheritance, and finding the old manor-house +going to ruin from neglect, she had directed him to find a +suitable family to take charge of it; and that he had advertised +and found the present family, with whom, he added, +he was very well “pleased-pleased-pleased.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>He concluded by saying that he was a lawyer by profession +and a bachelor by choice, and that he lived at the Red +Deer Hotel in the town of Greyrock, about thirty miles +down the river, and that he rode up weekly to look after +the estate, always changing horses when he went back.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Then, as he saw the stable boy, Seth, coming up the narrow +path and leading Saladin, he arose to take leave, requesting +John Palmer to bid good-by to the family for him, +and promising to ride over again on the ensuing Saturday.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It’ll be ten o’clock before Mr. Comical gets home, and +he’ll have to ride fast to do that,” said John as he stepped +into the large hall, which he found put in order for the +night, with all the pallets spread.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Has that funny old fellow gone?” inquired Susan as +she arose from putting the last smoothing touches on the +children’s bed.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_22'>22</span>“Yes, and he asked me to bid you all good-by for him.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, now all is done here, we’ll go out and sit under +the trees, and I hope this is the very last night we shall have +to sleep in the hall. It is a perfectly savage way of living!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh! I think it’s just <i>nice</i>!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It’s real jolly!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It’s first-rate fun!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I’d rather live this way than any way!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Such was the chorus of exclamations from the children +that answered their mother’s remarks.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Difference of opinion; but ‘sich is life,’” said John.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“<i>Do</i> hush your noise, Palmer! You distract me with +your clatter!” scolded Susan as she hurried the children +out of the house.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I wasn’t making the least bit. She and the young uns +was making it all, and I get the blame: ‘sich is life,’” said +John as he followed them out.</p> + +<p class='c009'>But there was no malice in Susan Palmer’s hasty +speeches, and her husband knew it well.</p> + +<p class='c009'>All was harmony in the family circle as they sat under +the trees, John smoking his white clay pipe, and the children +amusing themselves with picking the grass-flowers +that grew thickly around them.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Is <i>this</i> country enough for you, Em.?” inquired John +Palmer for the second time, as he looked at his daughter, +who was sitting on the ground with her hands clasped +around her knees, and with her eyes fixed upon the forest, +through whose waving branches, glimmering here and there, +could be caught glimpses of the distant river.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, father, it is almost divine! I sometimes wonder +if we are not all dead and in Paradise together. Maybe we +were all suffocated in our burning house that night, you +know, and have come to life in Paradise!” dreamily replied +the girl.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Em., hush! you’re crazy!” <a id='t22'></a>broke in Susan Palmer.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, mother, anyway we <i>are</i> dead to the old life in +Laundry Lane, and are risen to this,” said Em., smiling.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“<i>That’s</i> what she means, Susan. Law, <i>I</i> understood the +girl!” said Palmer heartily.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, yes! I dessay you do, John, and you encourage +her in her flights just as you do the little ones in their +<span class='pageno' id='Page_23'>23</span>climbing. The end of which will be you will have a crazy +girl and three or four crippled children!” chimed in Ann +Whitlock.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No wonder Mr. Comical took her for my mother-in-law!” +muttered John to himself. “And now I come to +think of it, it is all providential—having no mother-in-law +of my own, Mrs. Whitlock fell right into the place to fill +up the wacancy! ‘Sich is life!’” laughed John to himself.</p> + +<p class='c009'>They sat out under the trees until their early bedtime, +and then they all returned to the house. The women and +children entered first and retired, and then the man and +the boys.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em., not wishing a repetition of her last night’s experience, +had made her pallet in the rear of the grand staircase, +and close by the back door, which was left wide open for air.</p> + +<p class='c009'>As usual with this hard-working and healthy family, as +soon as their heads dropped upon their pillows they fell fast +asleep.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Even Em.—who would have kept her eyes open if she +could, for the pleasure of looking out from her pallet +through the open door upon the waving trees, the gray rocks +beyond and the starlit sky above, soon succumbed to fatigue +and slept soundly.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The vigils of the last night and the exertions of the past +day had completely exhausted the girl, and produced a +prolonged sleep of many hours.</p> + +<p class='c009'>It must have been very near day when at last she calmly +opened her eyes.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The moon was shining over the top of the mountain and +down through the waving trees and making their shadows +dance upon the floor of the hall and on the white quilt of +Em.’s pallet.</p> + +<p class='c009'>All else was still in the place.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“This is beautiful, beautiful,” said the girl, watching the +graceful shadows of the leaves dance and fly over her outspread +hands. She knew the moon was also shining through +the lofty window at the head of the stairs and flooding the +stairway and front hall with light where she had seen the +radiant vision of the night. She felt glad that she had +moved her pallet, for she thought that visions would not be +<span class='pageno' id='Page_24'>24</span>likely to appear anywhere else except in that splendor of +light.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Hush! What was that?</p> + +<p class='c009'>Her ears had caught the sound of a soft foot-fall approaching, +accompanied by the slight <i>swish</i> of a trailing +garment along the floor. The sound drew nearer.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Horror of horrors! What is this?</p> + +<p class='c009'>No radiant form of light now! but a demon of darkness +from the pit! a tall figure shrouded in black from head to +foot, with a muffled face of which nothing could be seen but +a pair of fierce, dark eyes that seemed to shine and gleam +by their own fires!</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em.’s blood curdled in her heart; she tried to cry out! +to spring up! to fly for her life! but she could neither +move, speak, nor breathe!</p> + +<p class='c009'>The terrible form drew nearer, stood beside her pallet, +stooped over her.</p> + +<p class='c009'>That was too much, and the girl swooned with horror.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER III<br> <span class='c006'>THE RED WING</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c007'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>Face to face with the true mountains,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Standing silently and still,</div> + <div class='line'>Drawing strength from fancy’s dauntings,</div> + <div class='line in2'>From the air about the hill,</div> + <div class='line'>And from nature’s open mercies,</div> + <div class='line in2'>And most debonair good will.</div> + <div class='line in26'><span class='sc'>E. B. Browning.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c008'>When Em. recovered her consciousness it was broad daylight, +and the old hall and the woods around it were full of +the jubilant sounds of awakening life.</p> + +<p class='c009'>John and his two boys had slipped out to wash and dress +themselves in the back premises, leaving the hall to the sole +possession of the women and girls.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. instantly recollected her frightful vision of the +night; but, true to her resolution of silence on the subject +<span class='pageno' id='Page_25'>25</span>of the haunted house, she refrained from speaking of it, +while she inwardly thanked Heaven that she had passed her +very last night in the ghostly hall.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She arose with alacrity, rolled up her pallet, and put it +out of the way, dressed herself and began to assist her +mother in clearing up the hall for breakfast. It was a lively +scene, like the general getting up in the morning from the +cabin of a steamboat.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Why, my girl, you overdid yourself yesterday, you did! +You look as pale as a ghost this morning! Just go and sit +down in that arm-chair, and don’t attempt to do a hand’s +turn to-day,” said Susan Palmer on seeing her daughter’s +pallid countenance and languid air.</p> + +<p class='c009'>But Em. declared that she was able to work, and begged +to be allowed to do her share.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The hall was quickly set in order. John and the boys +brought in wood and water; old Monica kindled the fire; +Mrs. Whitlock filled the kettle; Susan Palmer set the table; +and Em. cut the bread and meat.</p> + +<p class='c009'>As “many hands make labor light,” the breakfast was +soon prepared, and, with the keen appetite bestowed by the +pure mountain air, it was soon consumed.</p> + +<p class='c009'>As they were about to rise from the table a shadow +crossed the front door and the odd little figure of the old +gatekeeper entered the hall, and in such a plight that his +appearance was greeted with a general exclamation from the +company present; but before any one could ask a question +the old man walked up to the new overseer and said meekly:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“If yer please, Marster John, Mr. Comical, as he passed +out de gate yes’day, tole me to come up here dis mornin’ and +help yer to get righted, and show you t’rough de Red Wing, +case you couldn’t find your own way.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Thank you, ’Si; your help will be very acceptable. But, +man alive, what’s happened to you?” inquired John, gazing +with surprise and pity on the battered veteran who stood +there with his clothes torn to ribbons, his eye black, his nose +swelled, and his scalp bleeding from where a lock of hair +had been pulled out by the roots.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“He looks as if he had been blowed up by a steam-boiler!” +said Tom.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Or run over by a locomotive,” added Ned.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_26'>26</span>“He looks to me more as if he had had an interview +with a wild cat,” suggested Em., half in pity, half in humor.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But what on earth <i>is</i> the matter with you, man?” repeated +John.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, ver see, marster, Sereny has been performin’ on +me,” quietly replied ’Sias.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“<i>What?</i>” demanded John.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Sereny has been performin’ on me, sar. Dancin’ of a +war-dance over me, marster; it is Sereny’s little way she +has, Marster John. Only, dis time ’pears like she has scalp’ +me worse ’an I ebber was scalp’ since I was a boy, and dat +was a hundred and fifty years ago, marster, more or less, +more or less, sar.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But who the mischief is Sereny?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“My young wife, marster; dat young yaller gal yer might +see at de gate-house any time passing,” meekly replied old +’Sias.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But what on earth did she abuse you for?” demanded +John.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Marster, yer know dat dollar yer see Mr. Comical gib +me?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, marster, dat Sereny hab got a nose like a rat-terrier +for smellin’ out things. Jes’ ’cause Mr. Comical +come on a visit to de place, and I went up to pay my dispects +to him; Sereny suspicioned him gibbin’ me money, an’ +soon’s ever he was gone she up an’ ’cuse me ob it to my face, +an’ tell me to ’liber dat money up to my lawful wife. I +didn’t want to gib all dat money, ’cause I knowed she’d +heabe it all away on finery, an’ sich trash, first chance she +got, so I wouldn’t ’fess as I had any. An’ den she tried to +sarch me, an’ I ’sisted her, an’ den she began to perform on +me an’ dance a war-dance round me, an’ tomahawk an’ scalp +me, an’ bein’ so much youngern stronger’n I am, she got +the better o’ me an’ took all my money——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And left you in this condition?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, sar; which it’s a little way Sereny’s had ebber since +I married of her.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But what in the world tempted an old man like you to +take a young wife?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, sar; dat’s jis’ where it is. In de old ages of my +<span class='pageno' id='Page_27'>27</span>pilgrimage I did take a young gal for a wife, according to +King David and Abishey, to keep me warm in my old days—which +warm she <i>do</i> keep me, sar, as yer may see for yerself, +my head is all of an inf’amation now wid de warmin’ +up she gib me yes’day. An’ I offen do wonder to myself, +thinking of my own thoughts inside of myself, how was dat +de way young Abishey kept ole King David warm—wid de +broomstick an’ de hoe handle, let alone sometimes de shovel +and de tongs also,” said the old man in reflective tone.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, I never heard that preached on, as ever I can remember; +but now you put it to me, I should not wonder if +it was so; for ‘sich is life,’ you see,” gravely replied John. +And then, after a few moments of quiet thought, he added:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But, ’Si, this catamount of yours shall not be let to +clapper-claw your body off your soul! I’ll see to it ’Sias! +I’ll see to it!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now, Marse John, don’t yer do no sich a thing. Don’t +yer go interferin’ ’tween man an’ wife, ’tain’t no good! I +don’t want no white man to interfere ’tween me an’ Sereny, +an’ any colored ge’man try to do it—well dere! Sereny’d +settle <i>him</i>! Now, Marse John, I is ready for any sarvice +as yer would like to have me to do, an’ <i>able</i> for it, too! +Dese here woun’s and bruzes is all on the outside, an’ looks +worse dan dey feels. To be sure de head is de worse, for it +do feel mighty hot: but den it is also mighty hard. I was +born wid a hard head, marster, so dey used to tell me, an’ +it’s been gettin’ harder an’ harder ebery year all my life, for +a hund’ed and fifty year, more or less, marster; till now it’s +done got dat hard as it can stan’ even Sereny’s broomstick +and hoe handle. So now I is ready for yer, marster,” +cheerfully concluded this war-worn veteran.</p> + +<p class='c009'>John Palmer had taken out his paper of instructions and +was reading them.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Here we are,” he exclaimed, folding up and replacing +the document in his pocket. “Here is our first duty, in the +first line, to open and air the house from garret to cellar, +to build small wood fires in every chimney, to burn out the +cobwebs and dry the dampness; afterwards to take time and +thoroughly clean the house. Well! the opening and airing +and fire-kindling will be enough to begin with to-day. It +will take us until noon, and then we must move into our +<span class='pageno' id='Page_28'>28</span>own quarters in the Red Wing. Now, then, suppose we +begin with the rooms on this floor? What do you say, +Susan?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Certainly, John—unlock the doors! We are every one +of us <i>aching</i> to see the closed parlors,” answered the woman.</p> + +<p class='c009'>John gave the big bunch of keys to old ’Sias, saying:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“As you know the locks better than I do, you must unlock +the doors for us.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>The old man selected a key, fitted it, and opened a door +on the right hand and admitted the whole party to a long, +dark, sombre drawing-room, whose close air and musty +smell immediately drove the women and children back into +the hall, leaving only John and old ’Sias to enter together.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“We’ll soon alter this, ’Si,” said Palmer as he went to +one of the front windows, threw up the sash, and with some +effort withdrew the rusty bolts and opened the heavy shutters.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Old ’Sias had meanwhile pushed back the sliding doors +across the middle of the room and was now performing the +same service at the back windows.</p> + +<p class='c009'>And soon floods of light and currents of air poured into +the long-disused apartment.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“This must have been the ball-room, from its size,” said +John, staring down the long saloon that reached the whole +length from front to back of the house.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, sar, it were mostly used for company and parties.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You can come in now, Susan; the air is good enough.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>The whole troop poured into the room and began to walk +about and stare with wide open eyes.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The waxed oaken floor had no carpet, or a carpet of thick +dust only. The dark, oak-paneled walls were decorated with +a few fine pictures, one of which immediately attracted the +attention of Em. It hung in a very rich and very dusty +gilt frame, between the two front windows, and it reached +from the floor to the ceiling.</p> + +<p class='c009'>It was the full length, life size portrait of a lady in the +costume of the time of Queen Elizabeth—a bright blue +satin dress, richly embroidered with silver thread and lavishly +trimmed with lace and decked with gems. It was +made with the long, tight waist, full, short, puffed sleeves, +and high, standing ruff of the period.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_29'>29</span>The hair was dressed in large masses of ringlets on each +temple, and surmounted by a close cap of bright blue velvet, +embroidered with silver, edged with a row of large pearls, +and brought down to a peak on the top of the forehead, and +widened out in loops over each mass of curls upon the temples. +A mantle of ermine drooped from the graceful shoulders, +leaving bare the beautiful neck, framed in with its +high standing ruff, and adorned with a necklace of many +rows of pearls. Long ear-drops and broad bracelets of +pearls completed the set. The background of the picture +was the cushioned steps and canopied chair of a throne, and +gleaming and glowing with crimson velvet and gold.</p> + +<p class='c009'>It was a very gorgeous and brilliant picture, full of light +and color. But it was not the rich dress, splendid jewels +or royal surroundings of the court lady that held the eyes +of the spellbound girl—it was the lovely face! the same in +its delicate outlines, fair, spirituelle beauty, clear blue eyes +and sunny hair—the very same with that of the white-veiled +picture she had seen in the palace on the island.</p> + +<p class='c009'>But how different the costume and surroundings! One, +adorned with the most superb robes and splendid jewels in +the magnificent court of Elizabeth.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The other, arrayed from veiled head to hidden feet in +spotless white, with nothing but clouds for a background, +might have been a spirit or a woman of any time or country.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Yet the faces were the same.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Uncle ’Sias,” whispered Em., “can you tell me whose +portrait this is?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, honey, dat’s one ob de aunt-sistresses ob de ole +family,” answered the gatekeeper.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“The <i>what</i>? The aunt-sis—Oh! do you mean ancestress?” +inquired the puzzled girl.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, honey, aunt-sistress. She were a great lady in her +time, but it was a long, long time ago, more ’an a hund’ed +and fifty years ago, I reckon.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, yes! the costume of the lady shows the picture must +be three hundred years old, and must have been brought +from England in the earliest settlement of this country.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Very likely, honey! Anyway, she were a great lady. +Lady—less see now—what’s dat dey did call dat pictur’? +Lady Em-Emmer-Emmerlint!”</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_30'>30</span>“‘Emolyn!’” exclaimed our girl, turning and looking +full upon the speaker.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, honey! dat was it! Emmerlint! <i>Lady</i> Emmerlint, +dey called her! And now I looks at dat pictur’ right +good, oh, my gracious me alibe, honey!” cried the old man, +staring at the picture and then staring at Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Why, what’s the matter <i>now</i>?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“De likeness, honey! De mos’ ’strorna’ry likeness!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh!” exclaimed Em. suddenly, “I remember that you +said that the portrait that you saw in the island palace was +like me, too.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“So I did, honey. Bofe is like you and like each oder, +dough I nebber would o’ noticed it if you hadn’t been by. +Well, it is de mos’ ’strorna’ry fing as ebber I seed since I +was a boy, and dat was a hund’ed and fifty years ago, more +or less, honey.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>At this moment John Palmer called old ’Sias to attend +him through the other rooms.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The whole party then left the long drawing-room, crossed +the hall and went into the south wing, which was made up +on this floor of family parlor, library, sitting-room, dining-room, +and conservatory—all except the latter having paneled +oak walls and polished oak floors, and being furnished +with the heavy, highly ornate tables, chairs, escritoires, +screens, and sofas of a past century.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Having thrown open all the windows in this wing the +party proceeded up the great staircase, followed by old ’Sias, +who, on the landing, passed the others and unlocked the +chamber doors and opened the windows. Here were long +suites of bed-rooms and dressing-rooms, all with the darkly +polished oak floors and the oak-paneled walls, and heavy, +black walnut, four-post bedsteads, with lofty canopies; and +broad walnut presses with innumerable drawers and cupboards; +deep, high-backed, softly-cushioned, easy chairs; +high, semi-circular, curtained toilet tables, curious, old-fashioned +china ewers and basins, and many other things, +interesting from their oddity or antiquity. But everything +was covered with dust, veiled with cobwebs, and redolent of +must and mice.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Indeed, often, on opening a door, the intruder would be +<span class='pageno' id='Page_31'>31</span>startled by the rapid scuttling away of rats or mice, and +sometimes, near a chimney, by the flitting out of a bat.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“<i>They</i> are the ghosts that haunt the house, I reckon, +’Sias,” said John Palmer in a low voice to the old guide.</p> + +<p class='c009'>’Sias shook his solemn old head and said nothing.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. overheard the remark and shuddered. She remembered +the radiant apparition of the first night and the horrible +spectre of the last, and to her the whole of these vast, +dark, dreary rooms wore a ghostly aspect.</p> + +<p class='c009'>They visited the attic and the back buildings.</p> + +<p class='c009'>And then, while the women and girls returned to the hall +to prepare dinner, John, old ’Sias, and the boys brought +light wood and kindled little fires in all the chimneys to +dry the rooms and destroy the must.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And, now,” said Palmer, “we’ll get a bite of dinner +and then go into our new home.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, marster,” replied old ’Sias; “which I hope, sar, +you’ll find to yer satisfaction.”</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER IV<br> <span class='c006'>RED WING</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c007'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>A rude dwelling, built by whom or when,</div> + <div class='line'>None of the ancient mountain people knew.</div> + <div class='line in38'><span class='sc'>Scott.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c008'>Red Wing was a misnomer, since it was not really a wing, +but a separate building, on the northeast corner of the +manor-house and much older than the old hall.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Tradition said that it had been erected by the Elphines +immediately after their arrival at the Wilderness, and had +been their dwelling for some years before the more imposing +edifice had been raised.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Subsequently it had been used as kitchen, scullery, laundry, +and servants’ hall and lodging.</p> + +<p class='c009'>But since the self-expatriation of the last of the Elphines +the Red Wing, like the Old Hall, had been shut up +and deserted.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_32'>32</span>Now it was to be opened to accommodate the new overseer +and his family.</p> + +<p class='c009'>All this was explained to John Palmer by old ’Sias, as +he led the way to the house, followed by the whole party.</p> + +<p class='c009'>They left the hall by the back door, and passing through +the back yard turned to the left, where, nearly hidden by +high trees, and immediately under the shadow of the rocky +precipice, stood the old Red Wing.</p> + +<p class='c009'>’Sias, going before, opened the door, entered and threw +open all the windows to the light and air, and great need +there was to do this, for the old Red Wing was pervaded by +a heavier fixed air and a deeper dampness and a stronger +smell of mould than had hung about the closed manor-house.</p> + +<p class='c009'>This building was of two stories, with cellar and attic. +There were four rooms on each floor, with a passage running +from front to back between them.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The rooms were large, with low ceilings, broad, low windows +and very wide fireplaces. They were filled up with +the oldest fashioned furniture, much of it rickety and +worm-eaten—all of it covered with dust and mould.</p> + +<p class='c009'>John, old ’Sias and the boys bestirred themselves briskly, +brought pine cones, dried brush and other combustibles +and quickly built fires in all the chimneys.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now, Marse John,” said old ’Sias, “as I’ve ’stalled you +inter yer new house I’ll be going. It’s mos’ Sereny’s tea +time, and I couldn’t stand another scalping.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Very well, old man, go. You have done quite work +enough to-day for one of your age,” said John kindly.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“<i>We’ve</i> got work enough for a week to come, cleaning up +the old place,” exclaimed Susan Palmer when ’Sias had disappeared.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Never mind, mother. There are ten of us to do it, and +we shall soon get through; and oh, think what a lovely, +roomy old house this is; and how beautiful outside. The +trees overshadow the roof, and from the back windows you +can almost stretch out your hand and touch the rocky precipice,” +said Em., brightly.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Let’s see, now,” said John, looking around himself. +“There are four rooms on this floor. This one we are in is +the kitchen, in course; and well supplied it is with cupboards +<span class='pageno' id='Page_33'>33</span>and dressers. The room next to this must be your +bedroom, Susan, my dear, because it will be convenient to +the kitchen, and, besides, it will save your back, running up +and down stairs. Across the passage is two rooms—the +front one, opposite your bedroom, must be for the parlor, +and the back one, opposite this kitchen, for our family +room. How rich we are in space, Susan. Plenty of space +and air for all the family. What a blessing! Well, and +now the four rooms upstairs. Em., you shall take your +choice there, and have a room all to yourself.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, father, if I might choose, and mother pleases, I +would like to have the attic. It is all one great room, running +from front to back, you know, and I don’t mind +climbing.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Very well, then your mother must sort the four chambers +upstairs among the children and the two old women as +she sees fit. Now, who in the world is this?” exclaimed +John, as a little, old colored woman, who looked like ’Sias +in petticoats, entered the kitchen.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ebenin’, mist’ess; ebenin’, marster; ebenin’, young uns. +Hopes you’ll ’scuse me. I jus’ come to look in on y’ all, +to see how you’re gettin’ ’long.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You are quite welcome. Take a seat,” said John.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Who are you, and what is your name?” inquired Susan.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I’m yer Uncle ’Sias’ onliest sister, Aunt Sally, yer +know, honey. Yes, honey, Aunt Sally; that’s my name. +I only come to see yer all outen good will, honey. I don’t +mean no harm, honey; I never does mean no harm. I +never does nothin’ to nobody,” meekly explained the little +old woman as she sank into an old-fashioned stuffed easy-chair +that Em. placed for her.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You are ’Sias’ sister?” inquired Susan.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, honey, Uncle ’Sias’ sister, honey; Aunt Sally. +But you needn’t be feared of me, honey. I never does +nothin’ to nobody.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You don’t look so old as ’Sias,” said John, scrutinizing +the little, old woman.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, marster, you’re right, honey. ’Sias do look old +since he married that young gal, Sereny. But he don’t +mean no harm, honey. He never does nothin’ to nobody.”</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_34'>34</span>“’Sias says he’s a hundred and fifty years old, ‘more or +less,’” laughed Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I know ’Sias do say that. I don’t know what make him +say that. ’Sias ain’t no more’n eighty-five. That’s my +age, and we is twins.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You and ’Sias twins?” exclaimed Susan.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, honey; that’s what makes us bofe so little, I +reckon; but we don’t mean no harm by it. We nebber does +nothin’ to nobody; me and ’Sias don’t.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I’m sure you don’t. Be satisfied. We are not disposed +to think evil of you,” said John.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I do thank you for that ’pinion, marster; an’ it a true +one; ’cause we nebber does nothin’ to nobody. An’ now +I’ll go. Ebenin’, sar; ebenin’, ma’am; ebenin’, young +people. I’s gwine now.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>And with these last words the queer little old woman +took leave and went away.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The strong, industrious and hard-working Palmers, toiling +together, soon got their pleasant house in perfect order. +And then they began to realize how, without actually possessing +wealth, they had come into all the practical enjoyment +of it.</p> + +<p class='c009'>John’s duty was very light—it was only to look after the +plantation; but not to take any part in the hard labor. +Susan’s office was still lighter—to look after the women +servants and see that the manor-house was kept clean and +well aired, and that all the work in their department was +well done.</p> + +<p class='c009'>In compensation the Palmers had the free use of the +comfortable house, six hundred dollars a year, and all the +family provisions from the plantation that the household +might require; and lastly, the privilege of “exercising” the +horses in the stable, either under the saddle or before one of +the rather dilapidated old carriages.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The granaries supplied them with abundance of bread-stuffs; +the dairies with milk, cream and butter; the barnyard +with poultry; the droves of cattle and flocks of sheep +with meat; the river below them with fish; the garden with +vegetables; the orchard with fruit, and the bee-hives with +honey; for, although the manor-house had been utterly neglected, +the farms and stock had been tolerably well kept up +<span class='pageno' id='Page_35'>35</span>by the negroes, under the occasional supervision of the +agent.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Besides all this, John and Susan had the privilege of selecting +two servants, a man and a woman, from the plantation +for their own family service—a privilege which they +had not as yet availed themselves of, having help enough +within their own household.</p> + +<p class='c009'>There were so many hands, indeed, that all their work +was quietly and easily done, leaving them much leisure for +rest and recreation.</p> + +<p class='c009'>John Palmer took the women and children in the capacious +old carry-all for long drives along the banks of the +river or through the forest.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. and the two boys learned to ride so well that they +could always attend the carry-all on horseback.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. usually rode a little, silver-gray horse, which was her +favorite because it united the rare qualities of swiftness, +gentleness, and spirit, and which she named Pearl. She +liked, on a fine summer afternoon, to ride beside the carriage +in going through the forest or along the river banks +and to listen or reply to the happy chatter of the delighted +children; but she liked even more than that to mount her +little horse and go for a solitary ride on the mountain, to +explore narrow, hidden, and forgotten paths, to startle the +deer from its leafy couch, or the eagle, screaming, from its +dizzy perch; to find new Edens of light and beauty, and +even new Hades of gloom and grandeur.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. enjoyed this life in the Wilderness more than any +other member of the family did, though they were all happier +than they had ever been before.</p> + +<p class='c009'>There was, indeed, but one cloud on the sunshine of their +lives—they missed the pleasure of attending divine service +on Sundays.</p> + +<p class='c009'>There was no church within thirty miles of the manor-house.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Certainly, by getting up at four o’clock on Sunday mornings +and harnessing two of the strongest draught horses to +the largest carry-all, John might have taken his family to +Greyrock Chapel in time for the morning service, at eleven +o’clock, but that he had conscientious scruples on the subject. +He was a simple and literal interpreter of the commandment, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_36'>36</span>and he held that beasts of burden had as much +right to their Sabbath rest as mankind, and that to make +them work by dragging Christians to church was the inconsistency +of worshiping the Lord by disobeying him, and +keeping the Sabbath holy by breaking it. We think John +was level-headed on that subject, as well as on some others.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. begged him to go to the island and hear the blind +preacher. But John was strongly attached to the church +in which he had been brought up, and the forms with which +he had been familiar from childhood. Besides, he did not +like worshiping in the open air—“the temple not made +with hands.” So John assembled his household in his own +parlor every Sabbath day and read the services. And he +made himself contented until communion Sunday drew near.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Then, on the Saturday immediately preceding it, he said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Susan, my dear, we are famishing for the bread of life. +We must go to church to-morrow, whether or no. Not that +I intend to travel on that day! No; but I tell you what +we’ll do, my dear. We’ll go this afternoon, and we’ll take +vittals and horse feed enough to last us until Monday +morning, and we’ll camp out, like we did when we were on +our journey. It’s lovely weather for out-doors, Susan. +What do you think of it yourself?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I think that will be very enjoyable, John.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“The young uns would like it.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“’Mazingly, John.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Very well; you get the eating and sleeping conveniences +all ready and I’ll harness up the old wagon we traveled +in, and I reckon we’ll leave here about five o’clock and +we’ll get to Greyrock by eleven to-night.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>This plan was carried out then and continued, once a +month, all the summer and all the autumn, as long as the +weather permitted.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. always went with the family when they traveled so +far to church; but on other Sundays she went to the gate-house, +propitiated Sereny by the gift of a little bit of bright +ribbon, or a string of glass beads, and so borrowed old ’Sias +from his lawful proprietor to take her down the river to +hear the blind preacher of the island.</p> + +<p class='c009'>One day as they floated down the stream before a gentle +breeze, old ’Sias said to her:</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_37'>37</span>“Miss Em., why don’t yer larn to manage de boat yourse’f? +It is one ob de easiest things to larn and one ob de +’lightfullest things to know. It would be a great divarsion +to yerse’f in the weeky days, when yer can’t hab me to wait +on yer.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, I should like that so much! Would it be a great +deal of trouble to you to teach me?” exclaimed the girl.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Why, laws, no, honey! none.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>So, then and there, ’Sias gave Em. her first lesson in +handling the tiller and steering the boat.</p> + +<p class='c009'>When they landed he showed her how to lower the sail.</p> + +<p class='c009'>After the preaching, when they were about to return +home, he showed her how to hoist the sail, and as they ran +up the river he taught her how to trim it.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And sometimes, Miss Em., when dere’s too much wind, +or no wind at all, yer can ship de little mast and furl de +sail and take de oars. I mus’ teach you some day how to +row.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, do!” said Em. “I should like that ever so much!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>The old man kept his word, and soon Em. became quite +an expert in the use of the oars as well as in the management +of the sail-boat.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Every Sunday, attended by old ’Sias, she went to the +island preaching, and sometimes during the week, when she +could get away, she went alone down to the boat, hoisted +the little sail and steered for the island or for some point +on the shore.</p> + +<p class='c009'>It gave her a new and delightful sense of freedom to feel +that she had the power to move over the surface of the water +and go from place to place at her pleasure.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am a bird when I fly through the forest or over the +mountains on horseback, and I am a fish when I speed +through the waters in my boat!” she gleefully exclaimed to +herself one morning in August as she steered for the island.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She had never yet landed at the island on any week day +or on any other occasion than to attend the preaching of +the blind minister. She had at such times kept a bright +lookout for the mysterious beauty known to popular superstition +as the White Spirit; but she had seen no sign of +such a being. She had heard it rumored, indeed, that the +lady would not come to the island this season.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_38'>38</span>Now, therefore, on this cool August morning an impulse +suddenly moved Em. to steer directly for the island, to land +there, go up to the palace and try to get permission from +the housekeeper to view the interior once more, and especially +to look upon the portrait of the White Spirit.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The wind was in her favor; the little sail filled and the +boat was wafted swiftly down stream to the landing-place +at the island.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. furled her sail, moored her boat, and stepped out +upon the pretty path that led first through the girdle of +acacias and then through the ring of silver maples, and +thence up the ornamented terraces among groves, fountains, +arbors, statues, and parterres of flowers to the beautiful +high knoll on which the white mansion stood.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She remembered the way taken by old ’Sias when he +borrowed the key from the housekeeper, and so she followed +the path around to the rear of the premises, where she was +so fortunate as to find the woman—a very handsome mulatto, +sitting on an arbor, engaged in needlework.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Good-morning,” said Em., who had approached so softly +that her presence was not perceived until she spoke.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Lord bless my soul alive! Who <i>is</i> you, anyhow, young +lady?” exclaimed the woman, but there was more of surprise, +even of amazement, than of offence in her manner.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I startled you, I fear,” said Em. with a smile.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, I should think you did. Who <i>is</i> you, honey, to +be sure, then?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Only Em. Palmer, one of the new overseer’s daughters +from the Wilderness.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, yes! To be sure!” exclaimed the woman, but without +ceasing to stare at the visitor.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I came upon you too suddenly. You seemed to be in a +reverie. But I came to ask you, if it is not asking too +much, to permit me to see the inside of the house,” said Em. +with some bashful hesitation.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, yes, chile, you can see the house. Any one can see +it without reserve at any time, ’cept when my mistress is +at home, and even then they can see every part of it except +her chamber. Yes, chile, here is the key of the front door. +Go in and look for yourself.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Thank you very much. I only want to see the drawing-room, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_39'>39</span>with the portrait of your mistress. It <i>is</i> the portrait +of your mistress, is it not?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It’s like her, honey, if you mean the white veiled figure +in the drawing-room.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Thank you,” said Em. again, as she received the key +and turned to go around to the front.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She unlocked the door and entered the hall, and then +passed immediately to the elegant drawing-room, upholstered +in white, blue and silver.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She scarcely glanced at the splendors of this saloon, but +went immediately up to the figure and stood gazing at it +with uplifted eyes and clasped hands and eager mind, anxious +to read the mystery of this veiled face, whose wonderful, +fair beauty could be traced even behind the mist of the +flowing white gauze. She stood thus until startled by a +voice at her elbow:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“That is a most wonderful picture, is it not?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. turned suddenly and stood face to face with Ronald +Bruce.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER V<br> <span class='c006'>RONALD BRUCE</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c007'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>Handsome as Hercules, ere his first labor.</div> + <div class='line in40'><span class='sc'>Anon.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c008'>Ronald Bruce! Yes, it was he. There he stood, taller, +browner, and stouter, and, withal, handsomer than he had +ever been before.</p> + +<p class='c009'>They recognized each other in one mutual, instantaneous, +astonished gaze.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Miss Palmer! You here! What a surprise! I did +not know it was you until you turned your face. I am <i>very</i> +glad to see you!” exclaimed the young man heartily, offering +his hand.</p> + +<p class='c009'>But he looked full of curiosity and interest, as if he would +have liked to ask her how on earth she ever came there, if +the question had been admissible.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em.’s expressive face flushed and paled as she received +his hand.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_40'>40</span>“I hope I did not frighten you,” continued the young +lieutenant, seeing that she did not speak.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, no, not much—that is, not at all,” faltered the girl +in blushing confusion.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You did not in the least expect to meet me here, however,” +said Ronald Bruce, fixing his honest, dark eyes smilingly +upon her roseate face.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, no; but I am very much pleased to meet you here,” +said Em., beginning to recover her self-possession and +speaking with all the more formal politeness because of her +conscious embarrassment.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Are you really? Then this is a mutual pleasure as well +as a mutual surprise. Being in the neighborhood, and hearing +of this beautiful place, I came this morning to see it. +I met the housekeeper, who told me that the doors were +open, as there was another person inside viewing the rooms. +I came in and found you.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I have been here once before. I like to come.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It is a very attractive place—but do not stand!” suddenly +exclaimed the young man as he went off and wheeled +up a short sofa before the picture.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now sit down, Miss Palmer, and I will explain how +I happen to be in this neighborhood.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>She seated herself with a bow of thanks, and he, leaning +over the arm of the sofa, continued:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am on a three months’ leave, and I have come to spend +it with my uncle, Commodore Bruce, who has been placed +on the retired list, and is living at a fine old place called +The Breezes, on the west bank of the river, about half way +between this and a queer old manor called the Wilderness. +Perhaps you may know both, if you have been here long.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, I have seen The Breezes from the river. It is a +long, gray stone house on a plateau half way up the mountain +side, half hidden, also, by trees, and with a fountain +gushing from the rocks at the right and tumbling all the +way down from ledge to ledge until it falls into the river.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“That is the place. The house, as you say, stands upon +a natural plateau about half way up the mountain. The +commodore calls the plateau a shelf, and says that it is all +right that a worn-out old veteran like himself should be +laid upon the shelf. But I am sorry that he is retired from +<span class='pageno' id='Page_41'>41</span>the navy. He needed that active life more than any man +I ever knew.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Why?” inquired Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“To occupy his mind and make him forget his troubles. +He has had so much trouble. He lost all his children in +their childhood, with the exception of one, who lived to be +about eighteen years old, and was then lost on the <i>Eagle</i>, +when that fine ship was wrecked on the coast of Morocco.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, what a terrible misfortune!” sighed Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“That catastrophe broke his wife’s heart. She died within +a few weeks after the news of the wreck came. And now +for years past the brave old man has been a childless widower. +Still I think he bore up much better when in active +service than he does now, for since his retirement he has +been subject to fits of deepest melancholy. I spend all the +time I can with him; but I am only his nephew. I cannot +take the place of his son.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I know you must be a great comfort to him, for all +that,” said Em., in earnest sympathy.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I don’t know. He wants me to resign my commission +in the navy and live with him altogether.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, I wish you would! I wish you would!” impulsively +exclaimed the girl. And then she suddenly recollected herself +and blushed deeply at her own impetuous words.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Most certainly I will do so, since you wish it!” replied +the young man with so much comic solemnity that Em. +broke into a peal of silvery laughter. Then growing grave +in her turn she said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I do not think you ought to make fun of what I said, +Mr. Bruce.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“‘Fun!’ You think I am jesting?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Of course I do. You certainly do not mean to say that +you are in earnest.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Indeed I do—that is, if—do you know that I have never +ceased to think of you since that day I first met you?” he +whispered earnestly.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. flushed and paled and began to tremble.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Never ceased to think of you, and longed to see you +again. And now I do see you, I wish never to lose sight of +you more. Do you understand me, little Em.?” he breathed, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_42'>42</span>trying to take her hand; but she withdrew it gently and +folded her arms.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“There, I will not touch your hand if you do not wish +me to do so. But do you understand me, dear little Em.?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I—think—I—Oh! but——” muttered the girl, incoherently, +and every moment growing more and more confused +and—distressed or delighted, she could hardly know +which, so mixed were her emotions.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“This is what I mean, dear girl—that your presence in +the neighborhood makes the place so much more attractive +to me that, if you are to be a permanent resident of the +county, I shall indeed be strongly tempted to forego all my +cherished hopes of a career in the navy and be delighted to +settle down with my uncle at his retreat.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Just to see me once in a while?” inquired Em. in low, +tremulous, incredulous tones.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Just to see you as often as I may be permitted to do so. +You are to live here, then, I am to understand?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes; at the Wilderness. My father is the new overseer.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“In-deed!” slowly responded Ronald Bruce.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes,” replied Em., recovering some self-possession now +that the conversation was turned from her personally. “We +are all there—father, mother, all my brothers and sisters, +the little Italian girl, Valencia, and Mrs. Whitlock and +Aunt Monica.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Heaven and earth! Your father is a practical communist, +with the unprecedented peculiarity of keeping up +the commune at his own expense. So the little orphan is +still with you?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, yes; but she does not feel that she is an orphan. +She is one of ourselves. We all love her dearly, and do all +we can to make her forget she was ever anything else. Why, +do you know, she has a high little spirit of her own, and the +first time she showed it by slapping Molly in the face for +combin her hair roughly we were all delighted, for we said +to ourselves:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“‘Now we <i>know</i> she feels quite at home.’”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Hum,” gravely commented Ronald Bruce. “Was Molly +delighted, too?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. laughed.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No,” she answered. “It took all the house to mollify +<span class='pageno' id='Page_43'>43</span>Molly; and for a long time it was in vain that we explained +what a good sign that was! oh, of course, we know that it +was naughty, and that very night, at prayer-time, father +gave out the children’s hymn, ‘Let dogs delight to bark and +bite,’ for them all to learn by heart against the next Sabbath.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“How do you like living at the Wilderness?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, so much! So very much! We have such a good +time! Plenty of clean space and fresh, sweet air. Plenty +of well water and cool shade. Abundance of fruit and milk +and everything we need. And the forest all around the +house and the mountains behind and the river before. We +children have learned to ride and drive, for the many horses +standing in the stables have to be exercised. And I have +learned to row and to manage a sail-boat. Oh, it is so delightful! +After Laundry Lane, to be here is like having +died to the earth and come to heaven!” exclaimed Em., with +such enthusiasm that the young man smiled ruefully and +said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And, in fact, you are so perfectly happy that you do not +need even the presence of an old friend like me to add to +your happiness—no, not even though he is willing to resign +a glorious career and stay here for your sake. You do not +want him.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, yes, indeed, indeed I do!” exclaimed Em. impulsively, +and then she clapped her hands over <a id="t43"></a>her own lips that +no more hasty words might escape them, as she turned pale +at the thought of their earnestness.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“That settles my destiny,” said the young lieutenant.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, I must go now,” murmured the girl, rising to her +feet and throwing over her head a light gossamer shawl +that had been knit by her own hands.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ah, not yet! Stay a little longer,” pleaded the young +man.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, <i>indeed</i> I must go now. I have duties to do at +home,” persisted Em. as she shook the white gossamer shawl +down over her shoulders until it flowed around her form +like a mist.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Stop! One moment! Good Heaven, what a resemblance!” +exclaimed Ronald Bruce, gazing at Em. and then +at the picture of the veiled lady.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_44'>44</span>“What? Oh! between me and the portrait? Yes, it +has been remarked before,” said Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I did not notice it until that flowing mantle of yours +called my attention to it; but the resemblance is perfect in +every feature of the face; Is it accidental, or are you perhaps +a distant relation of the original?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It is accidental. I never even saw the original of that +portrait, who I understand to be the lady of this island +manor.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“A strange coincidence of form and feature. You are +not going?” he inquired, seeing Em. moving toward the +door.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, yes, I must. Good-by.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, I will see you to your boat.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But you have not been through the house you came to +look at.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I can go through the house another time. I will see +you to your boat, unless you forbid me to do so.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>She did not forbid him, and so he followed her out, and +when he had returned the key to the keeper he attended +her down through the beautiful groves of the isle to the +landing where she had moored her boat.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Do you mean to say that you sailed from the Wilderness +alone in that boat?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, why should I not?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Suppose an accident had happened?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“They tell me that no accident ever was known to have +happened on the Placid. Even if there had been an accident, +at the very worst I could only have been drowned. +And is it worth while to refrain from any harmless and +healthful enjoyment for the fear of a possible accident?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, no, you are right. But it is rare to find a young +girl so skillful and fearless in managing a sail-boat. Who +taught you?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“An old philosopher who is called ’Sias, and keeps the +gates at the Wilderness,” said Em. as she began to unmoor +her boat.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, no, let me do that. I should have done it before, +but that I did not wish to hasten the time of your departure—like +dropping the handkerchief for my own execution, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_45'>45</span>you know,” said the young man as he took the task out of +her hands and performed it himself.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Then he handed her into the boat, hoisted the sail and +took the tiller and said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I hope you will let me go with you as far as our course +separates—that is, to the landing below our place—though, +if you feel the very least objection to my doing so, say it +frankly and I will leave,” he added.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I have no objection at all. I thank you very much; but +what will become of your own boat that brought you here?” +inquired Em., half pleased, half frightened at his proposal.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, I came in a little row-boat. I can send a servant +down here in another boat to tow this back. Come, be +charitable, and take me in. I am tired of rowing, and to +row up stream will be much harder work than it was to +row down.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. hesitated for a moment and communed with herself +to this effect.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I would not refuse <i>any other</i> person a seat in my boat, +and why, now, should I refuse this gentleman, who has been +kinder to me than most people? I will <i>not</i> refuse him. It +would be unkind, ungrateful and impolite.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Shall I go?” inquired Ronald Bruce.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, no, pray do not. Keep your seat, sir,” said Em., +all the more graciously because she had hesitated.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ay, ay, sir,” said the young officer, laughingly touching +his hat.</p> + +<p class='c009'>He took the tiller again and steered for the Wilderness, +while Em. sat opposite to him with her idle hands before +her.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now you know that you are captain of this boat, and I +am only the man at the helm, under your command. I will +steer where you order me and stop when you tell me,” said +Ronald Bruce.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No,” replied Em., “when I resigned the helm I resigned +the command. I decline the responsibility you would force +upon me. I am only a passenger.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Very well,” said the man at the helm, “then here we +go!” and, unknown to Em., he shot past the landing below +The Breezes and steered for the Wilderness.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_46'>46</span>“Why, where are you going?” inquired Em. when at last +she perceived his course.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“To take you home to your landing at the foot of the +Wilderness and then walk with you up to the house to see +your father and mother.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I declare you are like the fox in the fable of the fox +and the hare,” said Em. to herself, but to him she only put +a question:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“How will you get back?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, walk it—The Breezes being on the same side of the +river with the Wilderness, you know.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, yes, to be sure!” replied the girl, and upon every +account she was very glad that Ronald Bruce was going +straight home with her, for thus she would have his company +for an hour or two longer, and then he would see the +family, and they would all know how he came home with +her, and all would be frank, open, and straightforward.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You are very kind to me, Mr. Bruce, and you always +were. I know my mother and father will be very glad to +welcome you,” she said.</p> + +<p class='c009'>They soon reached the island landing, where Ronald +Bruce lowered the sail, moored the boat, and would have +given his hand to help his companion out, but she, unaccustomed +to any such assistance, without waiting for it, +sprang lightly to the shore.</p> + +<p class='c009'>He joined her immediately, and they entered the forest +road and walked toward the house. It was now so near +sunset that the sun had sunk out of sight behind the mountain +range, casting the wooded valley into a premature twilight.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The young pair did not hurry themselves, but walked +in a leisurely way through the deepening shades of the +forest until they reached the manor-house.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. then led her companion around to the rear, where +they found John and all the family sitting before the door +of the Red Wing enjoying the coolness of the August +evening.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, little truant, where have you been all the afternoon, +and who is that you have got with you?” inquired +John Palmer as Em. and her escort approached.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I have been all this time on the river, and at the island, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_47'>47</span>father, and I have brought an old friend home whom you +and mother will be glad to see—Lieutenant Ronald Bruce,” +said Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Young Bruce lifted his cap and advanced.</p> + +<p class='c009'>But almost before he could take a step the little Italian +girl, Valencia, with a great cry of joy rushed forward and +clasped him with both little arms, calling him, in her enthusiastic +language, her illustrious, her beneficent, her beloved, +her caressed, and so forth, and so forth.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Ronald Bruce responded heartily, lifted her in his arms +and kissed and blessed her, and then put her gently down +and went forward to greet John and Susan Palmer, who +both received him very cordially and pressed him to be +seated and to stay to tea.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Ronald Bruce in look and manner showed his willingness +to do so at the same time that he explained his inability by +saying that he was obliged to start immediately, as he had +to walk back through the forest and half way up the mountain +to The Breezes, where he was then staying with his +uncle, Commodore Bruce.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, there,” said John Palmer; “we did hear that a +retired naval officer had taken that old place, but we never +heard his name. So it was the commodore. Well, sir, his +place, I should say, was a good ten miles from here by the +road; it is a great deal nearer by the river. Now, sir, there’s +no need for you to walk it at all. If so be you must go +back, why, there’s a dozen horses in the stable needing +exercise, the best of ’em heartily at your service. But—would +the old gentleman be anxious if you was to stay out +all night?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, no!” laughed the young man. “He retires to his +study so early that he would not know it.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, then, sir, here’s my offer to you—the best horse +in the stable if you <i>must</i> go; or a hearty welcome to the +best room in the house if you can stay,” said John cordially.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Do stay, Mr. Bruce. We should all be happy to have +you,” added Susan Palmer, glad of the chance to offer hospitality.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The little Italian girl caught his hand and held it tightly +while she lifted her dark, bright, eager eyes pleadingly to +his.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_48'>48</span>But Ronald Bruce sought the eyes of Em., which said +nothing, their glance being fixed upon the ground.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Nevertheless, the young man thanked the hospitable +couple and accepted their invitation as frankly as it was +given.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER VI<br> <span class='c006'>THE GUEST</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c007'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>Welcome he is in hut and hall,</div> + <div class='line'>To maids and matrons, men and all.</div> + <div class='line in35'><span class='sc'>Praed.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c008'>To the isolated family in the Wilderness Manor the sight +of a stranger was a rare event, and the entertainment of a +guest an unprecedented one. So Ronald Bruce’s frank acceptance +of their cordial invitation to stay to supper and +spend the night threw every member of the household into +a flutter of excitement.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Susan Palmer, signing to Em. to keep her seat and entertain +her visitor, arose and withdrew into the house.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Ann Whitlock and old Monica got up and followed her.</p> + +<p class='c009'>And the three women stood together in the kitchen and +held a council of cookery as to what should be provided +for so “distinguished” a guest.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now you jest leab it all to <i>me</i>, chillun, and ’range yourselbes +underneaf my orders for de night, and I jest tell yer +all what, I’ll jest ’vide sich a supper as will make dat young +man thank his blessed stars as he missed his dinner at home—which +he must a-missed, yer know, ’cause all dem dere +big bugs allers eats deir dinner ’bout de time we all thinkin’ +’bout gwine to bed,” said Monica confidently.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And you really think you can cook a supper that he will +enjoy?” anxiously inquired Susan.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Hush, honey, what’s yer talkin’ ’bout? He mus’ be a +dreat deal harder to please dan his ole uncle was if I can’t. +Wasn’t I cook to ole Marse Capt’n Wyndeworth, at Green +Point? And didn’t ole Marse Capt’n Bruce come to dinner +and supper dere two or t’ree times a week? And where +<span class='pageno' id='Page_49'>49</span>would you find two greater epitaphs dan dey was? G’way +from here, chillun, and let me get de supper,” exclaimed the +old woman.</p> + +<p class='c009'>And truly, with the resources of the rich Wilderness +Manor, with the aid of the well filled smoke houses, poultryyards, +dairies, gardens and orchards, old Monica found +materials worthy even of her culinary science.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Then leaving the cook to get supper Susan Palmer and +Ann Whitlock went upstairs and prepared the largest and +best bedchamber (usually reserved for the use of the agent) +for the accommodation of their guest.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Meanwhile the party gathered under the trees in front of +the house, conversing gayly together, enjoying the cool +evening air.</p> + +<p class='c009'>John Palmer, who was as innocent and unconventional +as a child in the matter of asking questions, drew out the +frank young officer to speak freely of his own circumstances.</p> + +<p class='c009'>When Susan Palmer had finished her task in the house +and rejoined the circle under the trees, John was saying:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And so the old gentleman wants you to resign your +commission in the navy and to spend your life with him, +does he?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes. You see it is not from selfishness on his part, +but from affection. The terrible disaster through which +he lost his only son at sea has so wrought upon his mind +that he dreads to trust any one he loves to the career of a +sailor,” the young man explained.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ay, ay,” said John, “‘sich is life.’ And you say that +he promises, if you will resign your commission in the navy +and stay with him for the short remainder of his life, he +will leave you The Breezes and all his other property at +his death?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Have you a loving for the sea?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, then, if I was you I wouldn’t give it up. Not +for filthy lucre, I wouldn’t! It is an honorable career, the +navy, and some <i>must</i> follow it and risk their lives, and, if +need be, lose their lives; for ‘sich <i>is</i> life.’ Put it to the +old gentleman that way. Tell him <i>he</i> wouldn’t a-done it +when <i>he</i> was a young man, and why then should he want +<span class='pageno' id='Page_50'>50</span>you to? Tell him you will spend all your leaves with him, +and that you don’t want his money; you want an honorable +naval career. There, young gentleman, tell him that.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Ronald Bruce smiled at the simplicity and freedom with +which honest John Palmer gave advice involving the loss +or gain of a large estate, but was saved the trouble of replying +by his wife Susan, who struck into the conversation +with:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But law, John, the old gentleman’s <i>feelings</i> ought to be +considered <i>some</i>. It ain’t <i>all</i> a question of money, nor it +ain’t all a question of honor; but of kindness and of feelings.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“We be talking of principles, my dear, not feelings. But +there, what’s the use of arguing? Men will be guided by +principles and women by feelings while the world stands, +for ‘sich is life.’ And youth will be guided by its own wayward +will. This young gentleman will do as he pleases, +after all.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Ronald Bruce laughed, but did not commit himself.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. was perfectly silent. And the deepening twilight +threw her beautiful face into such dark shadow that her +lover could not see its expression.</p> + +<p class='c009'>John Palmer started another topic by speaking of the +island and the mysterious stranger who owned it.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“They say as she is as fair as an angel of light; but how +can they tell that, since nobody has ever seen her face unveiled?” +said John.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I know nothing about her,” replied the guest, “except +what the gossip of the country people tell me, which may +not be true.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>They discoursed concerning the White Spirit until one +of the boys came out of the house and whispered to his +mother that supper was on the table.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Susan Palmer arose in good, old-fashioned, rustic style +and invited her guest to walk in and partake, adding, with +polite hypocrisy, that she hoped he would excuse the plainness +of fare they had to set before him.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Young Bruce laughed as he replied that there was no +doubt the viands were excellent in themselves and much +better than he deserved—and so, with the custom of <i>his</i> +<span class='pageno' id='Page_51'>51</span>class, he offered his arm to Mrs. Palmer to take her to +supper.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Susan accepted it and marched in.</p> + +<p class='c009'>John looked on with an amused smile, and then gravely +took Em.’s hand and tucked it under his arm and followed +into the spacious dining-room of the old house, where his +first words were an exclamation of honest astonishment:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“<span class='sc'>Oh, My!</span>”</p> + +<p class='c009'>It cannot be denied that the table and the supper were +a triumph of decorative art and culinary science—adorned +with the choicest flowers of the conservatory, and laden +with the daintiest luxuries of the season. But covers were +laid for four only—for John, Susan, Em. and their guest.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“For,” said Aunt Monica, in consultation with Mrs. +Whitlock, “you an’ de chillun will ’joy yourselves a dreat +deal more eatin’ of your fill ’long of yourselves dan siftin’ +down dere, ’shamed to eat as much as you want ’fore de +quality.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Ann Whitlock and the young people fully agreed with +Aunt Monica’s view of the case, for with them feeding was +always the most serious business of life, at which they +wanted no disturbing or restraining influence; and here +indeed was a feast not to be slighted on account of any +company in the world, but to be discussed at liberty and +enjoyed at leisure.</p> + +<p class='c009'>So the party of four sat down to an epicure’s supper and +did it full justice.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Young Bruce complimented Mrs. Palmer upon the excellence +of her dishes, whereupon poor Susan, with much +pride, answered:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, sir, it is not much to say to <i>you</i>; but our old Aunt +Monica was chief cook to old Captain Wyndeworth, who +was one of the greatest epitaphs in the country.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Ronald’s dark mustache quivered for a moment with the +humorous smile that was hovering around his lips; but that +smile vanished when he saw the distressed face of poor Em., +who sat directly opposite him.</p> + +<p class='c009'>John saw all and understood half, saying to himself:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now the old ’oman has put her foot in it somehow or +other; but what odds? ‘Sich is life.’”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Young Bruce had tact enough to change the subject and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_52'>52</span>lead the conversation into such channels of entertainment +and amusement that the face of Em. soon lost its look of +care and pain, lighted up with interest and beamed with +pleasure.</p> + +<p class='c009'>And the little, half perceived cloud having vanished, the +dainty supper passed off very pleasantly.</p> + +<p class='c009'>When they rose from the table, John led the way to the +front piazza, saying:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I couldn’t advise you to sit under the trees at this hour, +sir. The dews are heavy at this season.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>The young man took the offered seat from his host and +sat down in the summer night’s sweet gloom, holding the +hand of Em., who, unseen, sat near him and good-naturedly +answering the child-like questions of honest John, who +wanted to know if he had ever been to Africa. If he could +tell anything about the slave trade on the coast of Guinea. +If he had ever been to the Mediterranean. If he knew +much about the pirates of the coast of Barbary. And were +there really wreckers there who rescued shipwrecked passengers +from the deep only to carry them off inland and sell +them into slavery? Had he ever doubled the Cape of Good +Hope, and were there really chunks of solid gold to be found +there as big as pigs of lead? And diamonds large as lumps +of coal? Had he ever doubled Cape Horn? And was there +truly a land of fire there, corresponding to the land of ice +in Iceland, say?</p> + +<p class='c009'>Young Ronald Bruce had been to sea in some capacity +or other ever since he was ten years old. So he had seen +all these places, and was able to answer all these questions, +and many more, that were put to him during the evening.</p> + +<p class='c009'>His patience was inexhaustible while he held the slender, +delicate little hand of Em. within his own.</p> + +<p class='c009'>But these honest people were early birds, and very soon +Susan Palmer suggested that their guest must be weary by +this time and would perhaps like to be shown to his room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Upon this hint John arose, lighted a tallow candle and +offered to conduct Mr. Bruce to his chamber.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Young Ronald pressed the little hand that he held in +the darkness and arose, bade the two women good-night +and followed his host into the house.</p> + +<p class='c009'>John, flaring tallow candle in hand, led the way up a +<span class='pageno' id='Page_53'>53</span>plain, wide staircase to the second floor and to a large, old-fashioned +back room, with paneled walls and polished plank +floor, with tall windows looking full upon the precipice, +and so near it that one leaning out might peel a piece of +moss from the rock.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The room was lighted by two “mould” candles in tall, +silver-plated candlesticks that stood upon the top of a high, +antique chest of drawers and on each side of a tall, oval +mirror.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The woodwork of all the furniture in the room, of the +high post, canopied bedsteads, the antique chest of drawers, +the ancient press, or wardrobe, the old escritoire, or bookcase +and writing desk combined, the claw-footed sofa, the +high-backed, hard “easy-chair,” and the spider-legged +chairs and tables were all of the oldest and darkest mahogany.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The draperies of the room, the curtains at the windows +and the bedstead, the covers of the chairs and the sofa +were all of English chintz, of large pattern, and once of +“loud” colors, but now toned down to a general hue of faded +flowers.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I see you looking around on the room with curiosity, +sir. Yes, it <i>is</i> old-timey! I reckon if these here old sticks +of furniture had a tongue they could tell a tale—don’t +you?” inquired John, as he placed his candlestick upon the +high mantel-shelf.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, doubtless,” mused Ronald Bruce.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But this is nothing to the manor-house, sir, though they +do say this is older than that. But if you want to see a rale, +gorgeous, old, ancient palace you come some day and see +the manor-house, sir. Why, for one thing, there is a picture, +large as life, of a court lady of the time of King David +or Queen Mary, or some king or queen, I don’t remember +which; but anyhow, it is hundreds of years ago, and the +splendid colors are as bright and fresh as if it was painted +only yesterday. But I am keeping you from sleep, sir; +good-night,” said John, with a smile, as he took up his light +to retire.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Good-night, and many thanks for all your kind attentions,” +returned the young man.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_54'>54</span>When John Palmer reached the family sitting-room he +found all the household gathered around the table as a +common center, discussing the merits of their guest.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“He is really one of the most gentlemanly young men I +ever saw in my life,” said Susan.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Hi, honey, what yer talkin’ ’bout! Ain’t he one ob de +Bruces? An’ dey do tell me as the Bruces are ’cended from +some r’yal fam’ly or other. Not dat I know, but so I hab +heerd,” said Aunt Monica.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“There was a great hero named Robert Bruce, who became +king of Scotland in the old, old times, but there were +also a large tribe of Bruces. So how can any one tell? +But as for this young gentleman, it does not matter in the +least whether he is descended from a king or a carter, <i>he is +himself</i>; that is the best he could possibly be,” said Em. +earnestly.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“He is an honest, straightforward young fellow enough; +and you are right, my girl; it don’t matter two straws <i>who</i> +he is descended from,” added John.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, chillun, as de heat and burden ob entertainin’ ob +dis young ge’man falls onto my ole shoulders, and I hab to +get up in de mornin’ to cook a fust-chop, out-an’-out breakfast +for him, <i>I’m</i> a-gwine to bed. Tell yer all what, it’s +desaustin’ to de system cookin’ for dese here epitaphs!” +said old Aunt Monica.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, Aunty!” exclaimed Em., as if she had received a +stab, so keen was the recollection of the error of the supper +table—“Oh, Aunty, not epi<i>taph</i>, you mean epi<i>cure</i>! Epitaphs +are put on tombstones, and epicures——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Are put <i>under</i> them! So what odds? ‘Sich is life,’” +said John.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, but I want her to remember this, father, dear. +Aunt Monica, <i>will</i> you remember that people who love delicate +and dainty food are epi<i>cures</i> and not epi<i>taphs</i>?” pleaded +Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, honey, I’ll try,” said old Monica, and she remembered +the emphasized syllables so well that thenceforth she +put them together, and when she had occasion to speak of +a gourmand she called him a curataph.</p> + +<p class='c009'>John called the children around him for their evening +<span class='pageno' id='Page_55'>55</span>prayers; and after these had been offered up the simple, +kindly people bade each other good-night and retired to +rest.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER VII<br> <span class='c006'>A PROPOSAL</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c007'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>I see a small, old-fashioned room,</div> + <div class='line in2'>With paneled wainscot high;</div> + <div class='line'>Old portraits round in order set,</div> + <div class='line'>Carved, heavy tables, chairs, buffets,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Of dark mahogany.</div> + <div class='line'>And there a high-backed, hard settee</div> + <div class='line in2'>On six brown legs and paws,</div> + <div class='line'>Flowered o’er with silk embroidery;</div> + <div class='line'>And there, all rough with filigree,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Tall screens on gilded claws.</div> + <div class='line in24'><span class='sc'>Caroline Southey.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c008'>When young Ronald Bruce awoke in the morning he +found all things prepared for his toilet by the care of the +two boys, who had brought fresh water and towels for their +guest while he slept.</p> + +<p class='c009'>He arose and dressed himself before the tall mirror on +the chest of drawers that stood between the two back windows +looking out upon the precipice.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Just before leaving his room he leaned from the window +and plucked a wild mountain rose that grew in the cleft +of the rock and placed it in his buttonhole.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Then he went downstairs to find his way to the parlor.</p> + +<p class='c009'>He found the little Italian girl, Vennie, in the hall below. +With the impetuosity of her age and nation she rushed +to him, threw herself into his arms, calling him by the most +extravagant pet names that her hyperbolical language afforded.</p> + +<p class='c009'>He responded to all her enthusiastic caresses, and then +allowed her to lead him into an old-fashioned, oak-paneled +front parlor that looked out upon the garden of the old +manor-house, and beyond that upon the section of the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_56'>56</span>wooded vale with its wall of mountains and its far down +glimpse of the river.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Here he found the breakfast table neatly set and Em. +herself flitting from cupboard to kitchen, back and forth, +putting finishing touches to its arrangement.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She paused suddenly in her work to greet him as he +entered.</p> + +<p class='c009'>He noticed the lovely flush and the timid smile that +lighted up her face as she offered her hand and her low-toned +“good-morning.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>He took the delicate hand and raised it to his lips, while +her eyes dropped and her color deepened under the eloquent +gaze he fixed on her face.</p> + +<p class='c009'>But before he could speak a word John entered with +boisterous cordiality and greeted his guest. Since coming +to the country and entering upon a happier and more prosperous +manner of life, John’s nature had risen out of its +subdued sadness into something very like hilariousness.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Susan soon followed him; breakfast was brought in, +and the four sat down to the table.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Old Monica waited on them.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I hope the old commodore won’t be up early enough +this morning to inquire after you and grow anxious before +you get home,” said blunt John.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, no, my uncle rises very late. It is a habit he has +grown into since his retirement from the navy,” smilingly +replied the young man.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You didn’t tell me whether there was any one else at +The Breezes to keep the old gentleman company,” said +Palmer.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, a house full. My mother is there, and his sister, +and her daughter, and two lady friends,” said Ronald +Bruce.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“A nice party for a country house, I should say. But, +dear me, five ladies and only one young gentleman to take +care of them! You must have your hands quite full, sir,” +exclaimed John in comic dismay.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh. not at all! My uncle relieves me—plays whist, +reads, drives and tells stories. I assure you, he is the more +popular of the two of us,” laughed Ronald, as they rose +from the table.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_57'>57</span>“Well, Lieutenant, whenever you are disposed, by way +of a little change, to leave high life and ladies’ society for +a plain man’s company and table, we shall all be very glad +and grateful to have you here,” heartily declared John.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Thanks, very much. Now, however, I shall have to bid +you a happy good-morning,” replied Ronald.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Stay. I will order your horse,” exclaimed Palmer, +hurrying from the room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Susan had already left it temporarily to see to some +household affairs.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The young lovers were alone.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, my little fairy of the forest, when shall I see you +again?” he breathed in a low sigh, as he took her hand and +looked into her face.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She dropped her eyes, but did not reply.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“When shall I see you again, Em.?” he pleaded.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“When you come again. Father said he would be glad +to have you,” she murmured without raising her eyes.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And <i>you</i>, will you be glad to see me?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Susan Palmer bustled into the room before the girl could +reply.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Ronald dropped Em.’s hand and turned away.</p> + +<p class='c009'>John came in and announced the horses, for there were +two.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I have ordered a groom to attend you, sir, that he may +bring back the beasts without giving you any trouble,” +Palmer explained.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You give yourself a great deal of trouble, my friend,” +said Ronald.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, the animals need exercise. I am glad of the chance +of giving it to them. Between you and me, sir, two-thirds +of their number ought to be sold, and so I have told the +agent time and again. What good do they do standing in +their stalls? Well, sir, Lord bless you!” said John, heartily +shaking the offered hand of his departing guest.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Ronald Bruce then took leave of Susan and of Em., holding +the girl’s hand a little while in hope that she would raise +her blue eyes once to his own.</p> + +<p class='c009'>But she did not, so he pressed the little hand and left +her.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Then Em. slipped out of the room and flew up to her +<span class='pageno' id='Page_58'>58</span>attic chamber and placed herself at the window which commanded +a view of the mountain path by which Ronald +Bruce left the house.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She saw him ride away slowly up the mountain until he +reached the entrance of an evergreen thicket, which would +soon conceal him from view.</p> + +<p class='c009'>There he paused and turned to look back at the house +which contained his idol. To Em.’s dismay his eyes caught +her as she watched him from the window. He raised his +hat, bowed very low and rode slowly and reluctantly into the +thicket, where he disappeared.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. remained at the window, gazing up the now deserted +mountain path, lost in thought.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“To think that he should have remembered me so long! +To think he, a cultured and refined man of good family, +should care for me so much—for me, the child of a workman; +a poor, half educated girl! Yet he <i>does</i> care for me. +But, oh! I wish he had not held my hand so long or +dropped it so suddenly when poor mother came in. If there +was any harm in his holding my hand, why <i>did</i> he hold it? +Or if there was <i>no</i> harm, why did he drop it so quickly? +I don’t understand! I wonder what will come of it all! +Oh, how I do wish I could look into the future!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“EM.!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>She started from her dreamy reverie. It was her +mother’s voice calling loudly from the foot of the stairs.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, ma’am; I’m coming directly,” she answered, as +she hurried down from the attic.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Susan was at the foot of the stairs.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Where have you been all this time, girl?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Only upstairs, mother.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“There’s a whole basket full of stockings to darn, and +you ought to have been at it an hour ago; only this having +a visitor puts everything back; not but what he was a very +agreeable young man, too,” said Susan Palmer, as she led +the way, followed by her daughter, to the family sitting-room, +where just then a patch-work quilt was stretched out +in the frame, and all the women and girls of the house, except +Em. and her mother, were seated at it, industriously +quilting.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_59'>59</span>Susan joined the quilters and Em. sat down to her basket +of stockings.</p> + +<p class='c009'>So the family routine was taken up again.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Days passed, and the visit of young Ronald Bruce was +nearly forgotten by all the busy family except Em., who, +more was the pity, thought of him all day and dreamed of +him all night.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I can’t think what has come over the child!” said John. +“She is so silent.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“She wants amusement. She wants some change. Some +companions of her own age. She is not a child any longer, +but a young woman,” said Susan.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, I know; but she can drive, and she can ride, and +she can row,” said John; “and she used to be very fond of +doing that when she first came down here.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, yes, it was all new to her then; but it is all played +out now. Em. wants the company of young people of her +own age. Here she has only old folks and children.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, poor gal, I wish I could give her all she wants,” +sighed John.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Where is she now?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Sitting out in the back porch making a dress for Mrs. +Whitlock.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>No more was said at the time.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Weeks passed and nothing more was heard of Ronald +Bruce.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I wonder why he does not come,” sighed Em. to herself. +“He seemed so delighted to see me, so anxious to know +whether I was going to stay in the neighborhood, and so +overjoyed when I told him that I was living here permanently. +He even told me that would decide him to remain +with his uncle. And yet he has never called here since, +though father invited him so cordially to do so. Perhaps +he stays away because father has not returned his visit; +but surely a young gentleman like himself would not stand +on ceremony with a plain, elderly overseer like poor father. +Oh, dear, I don’t understand it at all, and I wish I could +stop thinking about it.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>But she did not stop thinking about it, although she +busied herself more actively and constantly than ever with +her household duties.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_60'>60</span>Two months passed, and the very memory of the young +lieutenant’s visit, which had broken the monotony of their +life in the Wilderness, seemed to have faded away into +dreamland.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The golden days of October were at hand, and still no +news was heard of their neighbor, Ronald Bruce.</p> + +<p class='c009'>One glorious autumn morning about this time the family +had finished breakfast and John and the boys had gone +out to work.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Susan and the other women and children were gathered +in the family sitting-room, where a cheerful wood fire +burned on the hearth.</p> + +<p class='c009'>They were busily engaged in their various employments. +Susan was making up flannel shirts for the winter, assisted +by the three little girls, who were hemming for her. Ann +Whitlock was knitting yarn socks for coming cold weather, +old Monica was sewing carpet rags, and Em. seated at the +window which commanded the mountain pass leading to +The Breezes, was carefully working the buttonholes in the +otherwise finished shirts.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Suddenly she called out:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, mother, what do you think? There is a carriage +coming down the mountain road toward the house! Such +a handsome carriage, with such fine horses and liveried +servants! Whose can it be, do you think?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Lord knows!” exclaimed Susan, as she started, dropping +her work, and rushed to the window, followed by all +the family, to see the unprecedented sight of a carriage +coming to the solitary manor-house.</p> + +<p class='c009'>They crowded before the two windows of that end of +the room and gazed with wonder upon the phenomenon.</p> + +<p class='c009'>It was certainly a very handsome, close carriage, drawn +by a splendid pair of silver-gray horses, and driven by a +stout, gray-haired negro coachman in livery.</p> + +<p class='c009'>It wound down the mountain road, turned into the house +drive, and finally drew up before the main entrance of the +old hall. A footman got down from behind and knocked +at the door.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“The idea of anybody knocking at that empty old house! +It’s awful, it’s ghostly, and one wouldn’t be astonished if a +ghost was to open the door at last!” exclaimed Susan +<span class='pageno' id='Page_61'>61</span>Palmer, as she left the sitting-room and went out of her +own house door to meet the visitors, whoever they might +chance to be.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The women and children stared through one of the windows +to see what was coming of this arrival.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. gazed through the other, hoping some news of—well, +of one Ronald Bruce, in whom she took some interest.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She saw her mother go up the front steps of the old +manor-house to the still persistently knocking footman and +seem to explain to him the utter futility of his exertions +and the total impossibility of receiving any response from +a closed-up and deserted house.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She then saw her, followed by the footman, walk up to +the door of the carriage and speak to some one within.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Finally she saw the carriage door open and a lady alight +and join her mother.</p> + +<p class='c009'>As they walked towards the old house Em. had a good +view of the lady’s face and form.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She was a tall, slender, dark-haired, dark-eyed woman, +still beautiful, though passed the prime of life, for she +seemed from forty to forty-five years of age. She was +richly dressed in black, but not in mourning, and a handsome +cashmere shawl fell gracefully from her shoulders.</p> + +<p class='c009'>But what took Em.’s breath as the stranger drew nearer +was her wondrous likeness to Ronald Bruce.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“She is his mother! I know that beautiful and queenly +woman is his mother,” said Em. to herself in breathless interest, +as the lady and her conductress approached.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“If you will excuse our plainness, madam, and come +into the sitting-room you will find a fire. There is none in +the parlor, and as it is damp there, you might take cold,” +said Susan, as she entered the house.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Pray make no apologies, Mrs. Palmer; I am sure this +room is delightfully home-like and attractive,” answered +the lady, with just a tinge of condescension in her manner +that escaped the notice of Susan, but slightly chilled Em.’s +more sensitive spirit.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Pray take a seat, Mrs. Bruce,” said Susan, pushing forward +the best arm-chair. “This is my oldest daughter that +I have at home,” added Susan, introducing Em., but not +<span class='pageno' id='Page_62'>62</span>thinking it necessary to present the other members of her +numerous family.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“How do you do, my dear?” said the lady, kindly holding +out her kid-gloved hand to the girl as if to encourage a poor +child of the lower orders, but looking on her with the beautiful +dark eyes of Ronald Bruce.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. bent her head respectfully, but in silence; for indeed +there was no need for her to speak, as the lady turned away +almost instantly and addressed Susan:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, Mrs. Palmer, as I was saying to you, I have come +here in search of a seamstress and in some hope of getting +one from your family. My son, Lieutenant Bruce, of the +navy, who knows your husband, I think——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, madam, he does. I hope the lieutenant is well?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em.’s eyes, ears and heart were all on the <i>qui vive</i> now. +She almost feared her companions of the moment might +read her thoughts, her hopes and her fears in her face, so +she bent lowlier over her task and worked more diligently +at her buttonholes.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Thanks, he is quite well. He has just returned from +a two months’ sojourn at the Naval Academy of Annapolis, +where he was suddenly called upon some business connected +with the school—some investigation of—I know not what.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, indeed,” said Susan.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em.’s troubled heart leaped for joy and then settled into +a delicious calm. He had not forgotten her. He had been +away. That was all.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“My son, hearing me inquire in vain of my friends for +a seamstress, casually informed me that the new overseer +of the Wilderness Manor had several daughters, and it +would be quite worth while to try whether one of them +would not be able to enter my service. I really <i>must</i> have +help in getting ready for the winter, Mrs. Palmer. So +if one of your girls would come to me at once she should +have a comfortable home and liberal remuneration,” continued +the lady.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, really, ma’am, it is true I have several daughters—six +of ’em, in fact; but the two eldest are married and +away. And the three youngest are little things, from six +to ten. So it comes to this, that there is no one but Em. +here who is fit for the place.”</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_63'>63</span>“As Ronald Bruce knew well enough,” smiled Em. to +herself.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ah, is it so? But of course Lieutenant Bruce could not +know all these little details of your family. He only knew +that you had several girls who might possibly be good seamstresses.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Just so, ma’am; but there’s only Em.,” said Susan.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“As he knew—as he knew,” silently sang the girl’s heart.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Is she a neat and skillful seamstress?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“None better in the world, ma’am, I think.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Then if you will part with her to me, I would like to +engage her for a few weeks.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It is just as Em. pleases, madam. There is no necessity +in us why our girls should go out to work, but I am willing +to oblige you; and besides, I think the change would do the +girl good. She has been moping lately. What do you say, +Em.?” inquired Susan, turning to her quiet daughter.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I will go, mother, if this lady wishes me to do so; and +I will do my best to give satisfaction,” answered the girl +demurely.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Very well. Can you be ready to come to-morrow if I +send the carriage for you?” inquired Mrs. Bruce.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I will come to you to-morrow, madam; but do not take +the trouble to send for me. One of my brothers can take +me to you,” said Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Just as you please, my dear. Three dollars a week, +with board and washing, is what I have been in the habit +of giving my seamstresses,” concluded the lady, as she +arose to take her leave.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“What will father say to this, mother?” inquired Em. +when Mrs. Bruce had gone.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Your father won’t say nothing against it, child. We +have had many a talk about you. He’ll be glad you’ll have +a change. And mind, he’ll take you over there himself +to-morrow morning,” answered Susan.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. spent the remainder of the day in packing her little +box for her removal to Commodore Bruce’s.</p> + +<p class='c009'>When John Palmer came home to dinner he was told +what had happened and gave his hearty approval.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I’m glad for the girl’s sake,” he said. “I know it will +do her a great deal of good. We’ll miss her very much, I +<span class='pageno' id='Page_64'>64</span>feel. But our loss will be her gain, and we must put up +with it; for ‘sich is life.’”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Later in the day old ’Sias and Aunt Sally, who had heard +the news from the boys, strayed into the house to pay Em. +a parting visit.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well,” said old ’Sias, “I ain’t had sich a surprise, no, +not since I was a boy, and dat were about a hund’ed and +fifty years ago, more or less, honey, more or less!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Law! What a story! But he don’t mean no harm by +it, Miss Em. ’Deed he don’t! He nebber does nuffin’ to +nobody,” said Aunt Sally. “But I’m mighty pleased long +o’ dem dere B’uces what yer gwine to, honey. I nebber seed +de ole man, nor yet de madam, but I see de young man, +what time he come and took supper and stayed all night +here. He’s a good soul, honey. I took a good look at him, +and I know it. He’s a good soul. He’ll nebber do nuffin’ +to nobody.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>With these consoling assurances Aunt Sally took leave +and departed, carrying Uncle ’Sias away with her.</p> + +<p class='c009'>That night after Em. went to bed her mother came up +unexpectedly and sat by her side.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“After this busy day I wish to take this only chance I +shall have of speaking to you in private, my child,” she +said.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. took her mother’s hand and kissed it with silent affection.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Listen to me, child. I want to give you a little advice +before you leave us for your safe guidance while you are +away.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Dear mother, indeed I will listen; indeed I will follow +your counsel,” said the girl simply and earnestly.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I need not tell you to read the Word of God, with +prayer, morning and evening. That I am sure you will +do.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, dear, I will.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Nor need I give you any hints as to your conduct +toward your employers. Your own good sense will teach +you how to behave toward them. But, oh, my dear child, +there are dangers that beset youth which I cannot even hint +at without hurting you.”</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_65'>65</span>“Speak what is on your mind, dear mother; never mind +hurting me,” said Em. tenderly.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, I cannot. But I will give you one little simple +rule, easy to remember and easy to follow for your safe +guidance among your new companions: <i>Never do or say +anything that you would not like your mother to see or +hear.</i>”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I never will! Indeed, dear mother, I never, never +will!” earnestly replied Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“That is right. Be guided by that rule, my child. It is +the path of safety.”</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER VIII<br> <span class='c006'>Em. AT THE COMMODORE’S</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c007'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>That lonely mansion stood upon a cliff,</div> + <div class='line'>By a great mountain spring—just elevate’</div> + <div class='line'>Above the winter torrents did it stand,</div> + <div class='line'>Upon a craggy brink; and now it wore</div> + <div class='line'>One sober hue; the narrow cleft which wound</div> + <div class='line'>Among the hills was gray with rocks, that peered</div> + <div class='line'>Above its shallow soil; the mountainside</div> + <div class='line'>Was loose with stones bestrewn, which oftentimes</div> + <div class='line'>Clattered adown the steep, beneath the foot</div> + <div class='line'>Of struggling goat dislodged.</div> + <div class='line in40'><span class='sc'>Southey.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c008'>It was a glorious morning in October when Em., amid +the kisses, tears and blessings of the whole family, left the +valley of the Wilderness for her new home on the mountain.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Seated by her father in the little, old-fashioned chaise, +drawn by one steady, old, draught horse, and with her little +trunk containing all her worldly goods strapped on behind, +she commenced her journey.</p> + +<p class='c009'>They could not go by the way up which Em. had watched +her lover ride until man and horse disappeared in the +thicket above because that was but a narrow though nearer +bridle-path which led up the mountain from the rear of the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_66'>66</span>manor-house and was used only by horsemen and foot passengers.</p> + +<p class='c009'>They drove down the old avenue leading through the +thick woods that lay between the house and the park wall +to the lodge gate, where they found both ’Sias and Sereny +on duty to bid a final good-by to “Miss Em.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>She felt for a moment distressed that she had no parting +token of regard to bestow on these attentive friends; then +she quickly took the clean linen collar and cuffs from her +neck and wrists and gave them to Sereney and the neatly-folded +handkerchief from her pocket and bestowed it upon +’Sias.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Both received these little presents with grateful smiles +and promised to use them for her sake.</p> + +<p class='c009'>And both threw old shoes after the chaise as it passed +through the gate and turned to the left.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Why, my girl, you have half stripped your neck and +hands for them darkies. You’ll look a perfect dowdy when +you get to the commodore’s,” said John when they were out +of hearing of the gate-keepers.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, no, father dear. See, my shawl will cover all deficiencies +until I reach my journey’s end, and then I can +get new cuffs and collar from my trunk,” smilingly replied +Em., as she drew her shepherd’s plaid wrap closer around +her shoulders.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Their road ran southward between the mossy gray stone +wall of the park on the left and the richly-colored autumn +woods on the right. Overhead was the most glorious October +sky; underneath a road so thickly strewn with fallen +leaves that the horse’s hoofs and the carriage wheels went +softly and silently on.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Passing the southeast angle of the park wall the road +continued through the forest, but began gradually to ascend +the wooded mountain range, half way up which, on a natural +plateau, was situated the old house.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The way was very lonely. Sometimes indeed a fox +squatted on the road before them, startled by their approach, +would spring up, scamper off and disappear in the forest. +Sometimes a hawk, perched on some bending bough above +them, frightened by their appearance, would take wing +with a scream and be lost in the clouds afar.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_67'>67</span>But such were the only signs of life that met them. No +human being appeared on this almost totally abandoned +road.</p> + +<p class='c009'>It wound up and up the wooded precipice until all of +a sudden it came out of the woods and on to the back of +the old house—a long, low building of gray stone, without +any pretensions to architectural beauty, but with a look of +spacious, homely comfort that was very attractive.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Entering by a side gate and driving over a stony road, +they came around to the front of the building, which stood +within a yard bounded by a stone wall upon the very edge +of the precipice.</p> + +<p class='c009'>A short flight of broad, low stone steps led up to the +flagged piazza and thence to the front door of solid oak, +adorned with a huge iron knocker.</p> + +<p class='c009'>As there was no one in sight, John Palmer got off his +seat, fastened his horse and helped Em. to alight.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Then both went up the steps, and John knocked loudly +at the door.</p> + +<p class='c009'>It was opened by an old negro man, who stood silently +waiting the pleasure of the visitors.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Is your mistress in?” inquired John.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, sar.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Then tell her that the young person she expected this +morning has arrived.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, sar,” said the old negro, and then bethinking himself +of proper civility, he added: “You may walk in here +and take a seat in de hall, if you please.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>John Palmer, followed by Em., entered the hall, which +was of the type of nearly all the halls in all the large old +houses in the country, running through the house, with a +front door and back, a great staircase in the midst and +room doors on either side.</p> + +<p class='c009'>John and Em. sat down on a heavy oaken settee, while +the man went off to announce their arrival to his mistress.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Em, this is a cold, hard, sterile place, and my heart +sinks like lead, my girl!” sighed honest John, looking about +him.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Why should it, father dear? Mine doesn’t. Don’t get +blue, dear father. Remember, Sunday is the Lord’s day, +and every Saturday night you are to send Tom for me or +<span class='pageno' id='Page_68'>68</span>come yourself, and I will go home and stay till Monday +morning—two nights and a day with you, dear father,” +said Em. cheerfully.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, there is some comfort in that, and if it wasn’t for +that I should not have let you leave home to come here at +all,” replied John, just as the old servant reappeared and +said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You is to come inter de back parlor and wait until de +madam is ready to see you. She will come down presently.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Once more John and his daughter arose and followed +their guide.</p> + +<p class='c009'>He conducted them down the hall, opened a door on the +right hand and showed them into a moderate-sized and +plainly-furnished room with oak-paneled walls and polished +oak floor, and with a broad fireplace, on which burned a +fire of huge hickory logs. This fireplace was flanked by two +deep recesses, in one of which stood a carved oaken beaufet, +full of old china, and in the other stood a cabinet with +glass doors, behind which might be seen a collection of +small curiosities from all quarters of the world, brought by +Commodore Bruce from his various voyages.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Two large easy chairs, covered with flowered chintz, were +drawn up to the fireplace, before which lay a rich Turkey +rug.</p> + +<p class='c009'>John placed himself in one of these and Em. in the other.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She was busily employed in gazing at the old, old china +in the beaufet on her right and curiosities in the cabinet +on her left when the door opened and Mrs. Bruce sailed in.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Sailed” is the only term to use in regard to the carriage +of this lady, so smooth and majestic was her motion.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ah, my dear, you are very punctual. I am glad to see +you,” she said, taking the hand of Em. and then nodding +graciously to John, who arose and bowed and remained +standing while he said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, madam, I have brought my girl to you according +to her promise. If she should not happen to suit, just drop +me a word by one of your grooms and I’ll come and fetch +her home with more pleasure than I have brought her +here.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, I have no doubt in the world that she will suit me +<span class='pageno' id='Page_69'>69</span>excellently well,” said the lady, smiling at the bluntness of +John and looking kindly upon Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I will try my best to please you, madam,” said the girl.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am not very hard to please, little one,” replied the +lady.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But in any case, I shall be here Saturday night at six +o’clock to take my girl home to spend the Sabbath,” said +John, who could not help feeling in a very unchristian and +aggressive humor; for why should this proud lady have +the light of his eyes, the core of his heart, his darling little +Em., merely because she wanted her services and was rich +enough to pay for them?</p> + +<p class='c009'>John felt himself rapidly growing into an agrarian, a +communist, a revolutionist or any other sort of incendiary +Satan should desire to make of him.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“There can be no objection at all to that. Indeed, if +you like, you can come at an earlier hour,” replied Mrs. +Bruce.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I thank you, ma’am; but I will come at six o’clock, +the regular hour for knocking off work all over the world, +I believe,” answered John, who did not wish to receive any +favors.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Then he went up to his daughter, took her in his arms +and kissed her heartily, put her down, caught up his hat +from the floor, bowed to the lady and abruptly departed.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Your father does not like to part with you,” said Mrs. +Bruce.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, madam; and this is the first time I have ever left +home,” respectfully replied Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Why does he consent for you to leave home when he is +so reluctant to lose sight of you?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“He yields to my wish and to what he considers my +mother’s better judgment in all matters that relate to her +daughters.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ah, then <i>you</i> wished to come to me.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, indeed, madam,” said Em. with an ardor that +almost touched familiarity.</p> + +<p class='c009'>But the lady took no offence. She seemed rather pleased +than otherwise as she added:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And so your mother sided with yourself?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, madam.”</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_70'>70</span>“I hope that neither of you will regret your choice. Your +duties here will not be heavy. We breakfast at eight. +After breakfast you will sew until luncheon time—one +o’clock—then take an hour for rest or recreation and then +sew until the dinner—six o’clock—after which you have +the remainder of the day and the night to yourself. When +we have no company besides the friends staying in the +house, you will take your meals with us. And now I will +ring for a servant to show you your room,” said the lady, +suiting the action to the word.</p> + +<p class='c009'>A good-looking young colored girl answered the call.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Liza, show Miss Palmer here to the southwest room in +the attic, and have her trunk carried up there, and wait +until she is ready to come down and then bring her to my +room. Do you understand?” inquired Mrs. Bruce.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, yes’m,” replied the servant.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I will see you soon then,” said the lady, as she passed +out of the parlor.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Come long o’ me, miss, and I’ll take you to Cuba,” said +the colored girl, showing all her teeth at she smiled.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Cuba?” echoed Em. in bewilderment.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, miss, which I means de sou’wes’ room in de attic, +as de madam tell me to take—which de ole marse he do call +Cuba ’cause de sun do shine dere mos’ all day an’ make it +warm,” the girl explained as she left the parlor.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“That is quite fanciful,” observed Em., as she followed +her guide.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, miss, I s’pose it mus’ be somefin like dat—which de +ole marster do call ebery room in de house after some furrin +country as he had to sail to when he used to go down to de +high seas in de big ships,” continued Liza, as they went +on.</p> + +<p class='c009'>They climbed two flights of stairs and reached the attic +floor, which, like all the lower ones, had a broad hall running +through it from front to back, with two large rooms +on each side.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Are all these rooms named after foreign countries?” +inquired Em., as she stood in the spacious hall, which was +lighted by a large window at each end.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, miss; and this here sow’wes’ one, which is to be +yourn, is Cuba, ’cause it’s de warmest.”</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_71'>71</span>“And the one back of mine—the southeast room—what +is that called?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh! Loosy anny, ’cause it’s warm an’ damp. An’ de +rooms on de norf side ob de hall is—well, less se—de sow-ees’ +room is called Greenlan’, and de now’wes’ is ’Laska.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I declare that is quite interesting, Liza. When we have +time I will get you to tell me the names of all the rooms in +the house, but now introduce me into Cuba and then please +have my trunk sent up right away.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, miss, I will. Here is your room,” answered the +little maid, opening the door of the southwest room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. entered it and made a little exclamation of surprise +and pleasure. It was a very attractive bower, if it <i>was</i> in +the attic—a spacious chamber, with whitewashed walls, a +sloping roof, a clean, bare floor, with rugs lying here and +there; a broad fireplace, with a good fire of logs; four deep +dormer windows, two looking to the west out upon the +cedar-wooded ascent of the mountain, and two looking +south, down the river, with a view of the opposite wooded, +hilly shore, and a distant sight of the beautiful island.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The old-fashioned four-post bedstead, the tall chest of +drawers, the “press” and the three-cornered washstand, the +tables and the chairs were all of maple. The window curtains +and the chair-covers were of yellow, flowered calico.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Altogether, the attic room had a spacious, cheerful, +homely look that perfectly contented its new occupant.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She took off her shawl, folded it and put it away in one +of the press shelves and placed her bonnet beside it.</p> + +<p class='c009'>And by the time Em. had bathed her face and hands and +brushed her hair the colored girl reappeared, accompanied +by a strong man bringing the trunk.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. only detained Liza long enough to open her trunk +and take from it a clean, white linen collar and pair of +cuffs, which she added to her simple dress of brown merino.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Then she followed the colored girl downstairs to a +spacious, handsomely furnished chamber on the second +floor, where she found Mrs. Bruce alone and busily engaged +in cutting out work for her new seamstress.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She spoke very kindly to Em., told her where she could +sit down, and then she filled her hands with needlework +<span class='pageno' id='Page_72'>72</span>and placed a pile on a standing workbasket at her side and +said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am now going downstairs to my guests. It is ten +o’clock. The lunch bell will ring at one. You can then +come down and join us. You can easily find your way to +the dining-room—it is the back room on the north side of +the house.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Thank you, madam. Yes, I can easily find it,” said +Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Mrs. Bruce went down to the drawing-room and Em. +stitched for three hours, her fingers busy with her needlework, +her thoughts with Ronald Bruce. She felt sure that +he had instigated his mother to engage her only for the +sake of having her near him, and she rejoiced in the +thought.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She never seriously reflected now how this love might +end. It was happiness enough for the present to know +that she was under the same roof with her lover, and that +she would be sure to see him several times a day for weeks +to come.</p> + +<p class='c009'>So she sat and stitched diligently, smiling dreamily over +her work until the luncheon bell rang.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Then she sprang up, smoothed her dress and her hair +and tripped downstairs to the dining-room where the +luncheon-table was spread.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER IX<br> <span class='c006'>“THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE”</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c007'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>The course of true love never yet ran smooth;</div> + <div class='line'>For either ’twould be different in blood,</div> + <div class='line'>Or else misgrafted in respect of years.</div> + <div class='line'>Or else it stood upon the choice of friends;</div> + <div class='line'>Or, if there is a unity in all,</div> + <div class='line'>War, death or sickness will lay siege to it.</div> + <div class='line in34'><span class='sc'>Shakespeare.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c008'>But the family had not yet assembled. There was but +One person in the room, and he sprang to meet her, caught +<span class='pageno' id='Page_73'>73</span>both of her hands, and would have saluted her with a kiss +but that the quick, forbidding look in the young girl’s eyes +arrested him.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, well, I won’t, then!” he said; “but, oh, Em., I am +so enraptured to see you! And did I not manage beautifully? +As soon as I had got home from Annapolis, where +that interminable investigation detained me so long, I was +postively determined to have you here! So, my dear, having +purposely left the bulk of my wardrobe behind, I told +my mother that I had scarcely the thread of a garment left +and must have several made up immediately. My poor +mother, who is as new to this neighborhood as you or I, was +immediately driven to her wit’s end for the wants of a +seamstress. I knew she would be! So I recommended +John Palmer’s daughters, knowing full well that there was +but one among them who could suit my mother. So here +you are, my love; and if I succeed in my plans, from here +you will never go again without me! But hush! here is +somebody else,” said Ronald, as old Commodore Bruce came +into the room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>He was very much bowed and broken—his head was bald +on the top, with a light fringe of silver-gray hair around +his temples and the nape of his neck. He wore a dressing-gown +of flowered India silk, wadded and lined and confined +around the waist with a crimson silk cord and tassel. +He stooped over his large, gold-headed cane as he walked.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Some men soon recover from severe bereavements, others +never do. Commodore Bruce belonged to the latter class. +He had never rallied from the overwhelming grief of +Lonny’s loss.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Every year, on his son’s birthday, he had said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“If my Lonny were now alive he would be this old.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>And only in the beginning of <i>that</i> year he had said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ah, if my poor Lonny were alive now he would be thirty-five +years old. In the very prime and pride of life, in the +vigor and glory of his manhood!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Commodore Bruce came in slowly, leaning on his cane, +as I said, and looking keenly from side to side as if to see +who was in the room, for his sight was always dim.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ah, nobody here scarcely. These women are always +unpunctual. They need a little navy discipline to train +<span class='pageno' id='Page_74'>74</span>them. But who is this? Who is this, Ronald?” he exclaimed +as his eyes fell upon Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“This is Miss Palmer, a young lady my mother has staying +with her,” said young Bruce not quite frankly.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, how do you do, my dear. I am very glad to see +you. I hope you will enjoy yourself among us,” said the +old man with formal politeness, taking her hand, yet +scarcely looking in her face.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I thank you, sir, but I am only Mrs. Bruce’s seamstress,” +said Em., amending Ronald’s little error.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Eh?” exclaimed the commodore, looking more attentively +in her face.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. repeated her assertion.</p> + +<p class='c009'>But Commodore Bruce was not listening to her words or +caring for them. He was gazing in her face as if he were +transfixed.</p> + +<p class='c009'>At length he recovered himself, found his voice and said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I beg your pardon, my dear, but I seem to have seen +you somewhere else long before this.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, sir, you did—in the city, more than a year ago, +when you were at the Indian Queen Hotel, and I carried +home some shirts to you,” said Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ay—ay—ay—ay! I remember that! But this was +long, long before! Yet no, you could not be so told! It +must be some one whom you closely resemble that I remember +and am thinking of! Yes—yes! I know now! Ah, +that poor, unhappy one! What has ever become of her? +Where lies her broken heart? And she was my Lonny’s +last charge to me before he left me for the last time. +‘Father,’ he said, ‘for my sake be kind to poor Emolyn!’ +Ah! she was my poor boy’s sweetheart, I doubt! But she +is gone! gone! This girl looks like her! Looks as she did +before that blasting calamity fell upon her! An accidental +likeness! The world is full of such! Yet I wish I had not +seen it!” murmured the old man in a musing tone.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Ronald Bruce led him to a chair, placed him in it, took +the cane from his hand and set it up and then gave him a +glass of wine.</p> + +<p class='c009'>When the old man had drank this he seemed to be revived, +for he turned to Em. and said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Do not let my lucubrations disturb you, child!”</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_75'>75</span>At that moment Mrs. Bruce and two other ladies entered +the room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. looked up, and to her intense amazement caught the +eye of her former teacher, Mrs. Templeton.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Why, Emolyn Palmer!” she exclaimed in astonishment +equal to Em.’s own. “Is it possible that this is <i>you</i>, my +dear? Why, how came you to be here?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am Mrs. Bruce’s new seamstress,” answered Em. +simply.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You are! Well, I knew that she had taken a young girl +in the house to sew, and I believe I heard she was the +daughter of one Palmer, who was overseer at the Wilderness +Manor; but I had no idea that it was <i>you</i>, my dear! +I am <i>very</i> glad to see you again! And here is Hermia, who +will be equally well pleased to meet her old schoolmate,” +concluded Mrs. Templeton, as her daughter joined them.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, indeed, I am very happy to see you so unexpectedly, +Em.,” cordially exclaimed Miss Templeton, who +had developed into a tall, queenly brunette of about nineteen +years of age.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And oh! I am <i>so</i> glad and so <i>very</i> much surprised to +see you, Miss Hermia,” heartily exclaimed Em., squeezing +the offered hand of the young lady.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Why, did you not know that my mother was Commodore +Bruce’s only sister? And that when he retired from the +navy and settled down here he took her from her school and +brought her here to keep house for him?” inquired Hermia, +still holding the hand of her little schoolmate.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, I knew, at least I had heard, that Mrs. Templeton +had a brother in the navy who had sent her son to the +Naval Academy, and afterwards I heard that she had resigned +her situation as teacher of the public school, and had +gone to live with her brother; but I had not the least suspicion +that it was Commodore Bruce!” said Em., still gazing +with surprised eyes.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, yes!” said Hermia, laughing. “And here we found +my aunt, Mrs. David Bruce, his brother’s widow and her +son Ronald. They are not rival queens, although this is +but one kingdom and cannot be divided. No; though they +are both here, there is no rivalry, and you will soon know +<span class='pageno' id='Page_76'>76</span>the reason,” concluded Hermia as she gave her friend’s +hand a hearty squeeze.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Mrs. Templeton, who had crossed the room to speak to +Mrs. Bruce, now came back to Em., and again expressed +her joy in meeting the girl.</p> + +<p class='c009'>As for Em., she was bewildered with happiness.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Every one spoke gently to her; every one smiled on her. +She was received into the family circle more like a dear +young relative than as a dependent.</p> + +<p class='c009'>But then the girl was so fair and lovely in person and +manner that no one could have treated her with coldness +or indifference.</p> + +<p class='c009'>And as for Ronald Bruce, who looked on all this from +the opposite side of the room with the air of a careless +spectator, he was really filled with delight at the success of +his experiment.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“She will win all hearts,” he said to himself; “and being +quick-witted as well as gentle and refined, she will soon +catch the ‘shibboleth’ of our set—the thousand and one almost +inscrutable and quite indescribable absurdities—</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c010'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“‘That mark the caste of Vere de Vere.’</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c009'>“Dear girl! For myself I should only be too glad to introduce +her into any society. And as to the old folks putting +their heads together and setting their hearts on making a +match between me and my Cousin Hermia—that is perfect +nonsense! We like each other well enough; but we won’t +marry each other. We’d die first!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>While Ronald Bruce was ruminating the old commodore +was growing impatient for his lunch.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, well, Catherine! Well, well, Margaret! what are +we waiting for now?” he testily inquired.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Only for Mrs. and Miss Warde,” replied Mrs. Bruce. +“These women! These women! They have no idea of +the duty of punctuality! Ah! a little training on board a +man-o’-war would improve their habits.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>As the old man spoke Belinda Warde entered the room, +apologizing, and saying:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Mamma is not very well; but she will be down in a +few moments, and begs that you will not wait.”</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_77'>77</span>“I am sorry to hear that. But take your seats. She will +join us presently,” said the commodore.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Belinda was now about thirty-five years old, a superb +brunette, like her mother, and being well-preserved and +well-dressed, she still passed among those who did not know +her age as a young lady.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She stared for an instant at the little stranger in their +midst, until Hermia said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“This is a schoolmate of mine—Miss Palmer—who has +come to assist Aunt Bruce.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh!” said the young lady, and took her seat at the table, +which was now full but for the vacant chair waiting for +Mrs. Warde.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The meal progressed, but the absent lady did not make +her appearance.</p> + +<p class='c009'>A servant was sent up to ask her if she would have refreshments +served in her room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>An answer was returned declining the offer with thanks, +and desiring that the company would excuse her.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Whimsical,” whispered the old commodore confidentially +to his own white beard as he finished his “mayonnaise.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>The luncheon was an informal meal, and one by one the +party around the table dropped off, until no one was left +but the commodore, his sister-in-law and Em., who, though +she had finished eating, sat there because she was too timid +to get up and leave while Mrs. Bruce remained.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Finally the three arose together, and Em. was about to +hurry up to her needlework when the old commodore arrested +her steps by saying:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Stop, my dear; with my sister’s leave here, I want you +to read the newspapers for me; the boy brought them from +the post-office just before we sat down to lunch and they +are not opened yet. Follow me to my study.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. stood still in perplexity and looked from the commodore +to the lady.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“My dear brother, I, Ronald, or, indeed, any of us, will +be most happy to be your reader, as we always have been,” +said Mrs. Bruce hesitatingly.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, yes, I know! I know! But this child has a sweet, +fresh voice very pleasant to hear. So I am sure she can +read most agreeably. I prefer to try her at any rate—that +<span class='pageno' id='Page_78'>78</span>is, if you have no objection, madam,” added the old man in +a tone that warned his sister-in-law she must make no more +opposition to his wishes.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, <i>of course</i>, I have no objection, sir. I am only too +happy if any one in my employment can be of the least +service to you, to whom I owe so much. Miss Palmer,” she +said, turning to Em., “attend Commodore Bruce to his +study.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Come here on my left, child,” said the old man.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. obeyed.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Then, leaning with his right hand upon his stick and +with his left upon Em.’s shoulder, he walked slowly from +the dining-room, crossed the hall and passed into his study, +which was in fact a handsome library in the southwest +corner of the first floor.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Supported by Em. and his stick he walked to a long +table in the middle of the room and dropped into a large +chair beside it.</p> + +<p class='c009'>On the table before him lay several newspapers still in +their envelopes. He opened them one by one and spread +them out.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now, my child, draw up a chair and seat yourself on my +right side—I am as deaf as a post on my left—and begin +to read me the news.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Where shall I begin?” softly inquired Em. when she +had seated hemself and unfolded the paper. “Shall I read +the speech of——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, bother, no; don’t; read the news—the murders, suicides, +arsons, burglaries, robberies, and so forth; and if you +can find any, the opposite sorts of things—the rescues, the +reconciliations, the benefactions, and so on! Only don’t +read speeches!” replied the commodore.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. looked all over the paper and found a long sensational +account of a great fire and the rescue of a family +of children by a brave fireman, who saved them at the imminent +hazard of his own life.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Next she read of the discovery of a silver mine in the +mountains of Virginia, which the old man instantly pronounced +to be a hoax.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Then of the laying of the corner-stone of a poor children’s +hospital.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_79'>79</span>But before she got through with this Em.’s flute-like voice +had lulled the old man to rest.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Missing his comments at last, she looked up, and found +him fast asleep in his chair, and Ronald Bruce standing +before her with his eyes full of laughter.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You have been reading to closed ears for about ten +minutes, Em.,” said the young man.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh! is he asleep? Must I go?” inquired the girl, dropping +her paper and preparing to rise.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“He is asleep; but you must not upon any account go +until he wakes up and dismisses you! Don’t be afraid, +however! <i>I’ll</i> stay and keep your company.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. looked perplexed, confused and utterly uncertain +what to say.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Dear Em., keep your seat; I have got something that +I must tell you in a plain, honest, straightforward way, +even although you may know it well enough already. May +I tell you now, this moment?” inquired the young man, as +he drew a foot-stool and seated himself at the feet of the +sleeping veteran, and very near to her also, it must be +confessed.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Dear Em., dearest Em., may I tell you now?” he +repeated.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ronald, is it anything you would tell me in the presence +of my mother?” timidly questioned the girl.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes! in the presence of the whole world, if necessary.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, then—say on,” whispered Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Em. Palmer, I haven’t been like other young fellows, +falling in and out of love with almost every pretty girl I +ever saw since I was five years old! No! I have been to sea +ever since I was a child, and I never, never, <i>never</i> knew +what it was to love a girl, the least in the world, until I +met you.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh! <i>do</i> please don’t talk so! I <i>know</i> you wouldn’t talk +so to me if my mother was sitting there right before us!” +murmured Em., beginning to tremble.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“May I never be saved if I would not! I would tell you +I love you if all the mothers, fathers, aunts, and uncles, +and guardians in Christendom were sitting on stiff, high-backed +chairs in a circle around us! There! For it is the +blessed truth! I <i>do</i> love you, Em., with all my heart and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_80'>80</span>soul and life! I began to love you from the first moment I +ever saw you! Yes, and I perceived that you also began to +love me about the same time!” he added triumphantly.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, Ronald,” breathed Em., her face dyed with blushes, +“was I so forward?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“‘Forward!’ No. You little, sensitive plant. The opposite +of all that—so shrinking you were! But, oh, Em., +I began to love you from the first moment I ever saw you, +and I have loved you more and more ever since; and the +more I have loved you the more my spirit has gone forth +in good-will to all the world. My heart was as pure and +fresh as your own, Em., and no heart could be purer and +fresher when I gave it to you; and that heart has remained +as true and constant as your own, Em., through these years +of absence and silence, when no word of love or of plighted +faith had passed between us!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, Ronald, Ronald, I am so frightened,” she murmured.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Why should you be even uneasy? Listen, love! Listen, +loveliest! By all the signs I have told you do I know that +ours is the real, true, holy, heavenly love, and not one of +its plausible counterfeits.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, Ronald, is it right for you to talk to me in this +way?” she breathed.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Right? It is righteous!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ah, how can it end? You are a young gentleman of +rank and wealth; I, a poor, half educated girl, the child of +a man of the laboring classes.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I do not care! I will tell you how it will end, Em. +It will end in our happy marriage. In the first place, let +me tell you that I am of age, and <span class='fss'>NO ONE</span>, however near and +dear, however rich and influential, shall control my choice +in that which would be the most important act of my life +and the nearest to my heart. I will not lead <i>you</i> into any +disobedience, Em. If the old folks do object to our union +I will wait until you are of age, and then I will marry you, +love—I will Em., I will, ‘Though mammy and daddy and +a’ gang mad!’ Yes! though my crotchety old kinsman here +should disinherit and turn me out of the house, get me +discharged from the navy, and leave me to earn our living +by breaking stones on the highway. If you will only be constant, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_81'>81</span>Em., as I know you will be, I will marry you in spite +of them all. I will marry you in spite of fate and fortune; +and I don’t care a button who hears me say so! <span class='sc'>Oh!</span>”</p> + +<p class='c009'>This last exclamation was called forth by the sight of old +Commodore Bruce sitting straight up in his chair, very +wide awake, and staring at them.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER X<br> <span class='c006'>SURPRISE</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c007'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in30'>The spell,</div> + <div class='line'>The mightiest upon earth—the spell of love,</div> + <div class='line'>Familiar, mutual, requited love—</div> + <div class='line'>Shall be upon thee; and its charmed power</div> + <div class='line'>Shall at each moment, at a wish, call up</div> + <div class='line'>More wealth than ever crossed the desert sands,</div> + <div class='line'>Gems, purer, costlier far than Araby’s;</div> + <div class='line'>Unsunned treasures from that richest mine,</div> + <div class='line'>The human heart. <span class='sc'>Pocahontas.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c008'>“<span class='sc'>Oh</span>!” echoed the old man, while the young people +looked at him aghast. “Eh? What? It seems I’ve been +nodding and you’ve caught me! Very rude of me to fall +asleep while you were reading, my dear! You might have +won a pair of gloves, eh?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>It was evident from the commodore’s words that he had +not heard a word of Donald Bruce’s reckless talk, but had +indeed but just at that instant waked up.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I hope you had a refreshing nap, sir,” said Em., who +was the first to recover her self-possession.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes—yes—yes—yes! I had a very refreshing nap! +Brief, but very refreshing. ‘Forty winks,’ as the saying is, +you know, my dear; just lost myself, that is all!” said the +old man, apparently unconscious that he had been sound +asleep for two hours.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I hope you feel revived, sir,” said Ronald, now plucking +up heart.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes—yes, quite so! But how the deuce did you come +<span class='pageno' id='Page_82'>82</span>here, Ronald? What do you want?” demanded the commodore, +bethinking himself now of the unexpected presence +of his nephew.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I want to go to Greyrock this afternoon. Will you let +me have Warlock?” inquired the young man with quick +invention.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now, Ronald!” testily exclaimed the elder, “why will +you reiterate a request that you know, for your own sake, +I must deny? No! You cannot have that four-legged +fiend! No! I will not have your neck broken during <i>my</i> +lifetime by any concession of mine. No! Once for all, you +can not, and you never <i>can</i> have Warlock! You may ride +any other horse in the stable—in fact, you may ride any +other four-footed creature on the estate, and you know it. +But you sha’n’t risk your life on Warlock,” emphatically +declared the commodore, bringing down his doubled fist +with force upon the table as a finality.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Very well, sir; of course you must be obeyed,” said +Ronald with a slight shrug of his handsome shoulders. “I +shall not, however, take any of the other horses. If I cannot +have Warlock I do not care to take a ride to-day.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No! I thought you only wished to go to Greyrock for +the sake of risking your precious neck on Warlock’s vicious +back. But you shall not do it. I shall sell that horse the +first chance I get. Now, then, go about your business, +Ronald, and send my man here. It is time to dress for +dinner. You may go, also, my dear; but don’t go back to +my sister-in-law and sit down to sewing, I command you. +And, mind, my commands are paramount on this ship! +You have been sitting enough to-day for a young one. Go +now and take a turn in the fresh air of the grounds. There! +Be off with you both. ’SCAT!!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>The conscience-stricken young pair hurried from the +library by different doors—Ronald going out into the hall, +and Em. descending the steps through a French window +that opened upon the front yard.</p> + +<p class='c009'>That yard so widely different from all the other houseyards +she had ever seen in her life; that yard so savage in +rocky desolation, so sublime in magnificent prospect.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The house, as I said, stood upon a natural plateau about +half way up the front of the precipice, directly overhanging +<span class='pageno' id='Page_83'>83</span>the river. The yard extended some thirty feet to the extreme +edge of the precipice, which was defended by a stone +wall about breast high. There was no gate or outlet from +this front wall. The approach to the house, as I told you, +was from behind, and the entrance to the yard was at the +side.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. walked to the wall, leaned over it, and looked down +the sheer descent of a wooded steep a thousand feet to the +river that flowed at its foot. What abysms of darkness and +mystery were in the depths of the shadowy foliage so far +below! There, in those deep caverns, doubtless, the wildcat +made her lair and reared her young; there, among those +gray crags, the eagle built her nest and brooded over her +eggs. No gentler creatures of the earth or air could surely +find their homes among such savage desolation, though +Em. as she stood there leaning over the wall and gazing +down the dreadful descent.</p> + +<p class='c009'>At length she raised her eyes and looked around, and beheld +a prospect magnificent beyond all words to portray. +Spread out before her was the beautiful valley, with the +river flowing in the midst, and the undulating, wooded hills +rising beyond, all now royally arrayed in the gorgeous hues +of autumn, and refulgently lighted up by the glorious rays +of the setting sun.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Ah! how brief are the moments of such splendid effects!</p> + +<p class='c009'>Even as Em. gazed the sun sank down behind the mountains +at her back, and all the valley faded into twilight.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. turned away and walked around the side of the +house and passed to the rear.</p> + +<p class='c009'>There the precipice presented a different aspect. Instead +of descending to the river it ascended to the clouds, and +from a fissure in the rock, to the left of the stables, sprang +a fountain that grew in volume as it fell from rock to rock, +and rushed roaring into the river below.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. knew—because she had heard, in the conversation +between Ronald Bruce and her father on that evening when +the former had stayed all night in the old manor-house—that +the cultivated farms belonging to The Breezes estate +were all in the valley below, and that these mountain ranges +were only valuable for their quarries of blue limestone; but +she wondered exceedingly at the eccentricity of the first +<span class='pageno' id='Page_84'>84</span>proprietor, who had built his dwelling-house on this mere +shelf of rock half way up the mountain side, with an ascending +precipice behind it, and a descending precipice before it.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She remained out until the twilight faded into darkness, +and then she went into the house and ran up to her attic +chamber, where the care of the little colored girl Liza had +already lighted two wax candles and set them on the toilet-table, +and had mended the wood fire which burned brightly +on the hearth.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. brushed her hair and ran a narrow blue ribbon +through its brown ringlets, then put a blue bow to the +meeting of her linen collar; and so, having made the best +toilet she could for dinner with well-dressed ladies she put +out her candles and left the room to go downstairs.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The upper halls were dimly lighted, each by a little lamp +at the back end.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. had just reached the landing on the second story +and was hurrying down the hall when a door on the left +opened and a tall, dark, handsome woman, richly dressed, +but looking older than either Mrs. Bruce or Mrs. Templeton, +came out and carelessly approached Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>They stood face to face. The lady lifted her eyes +haughtily to those of the girl that for the moment stood +in her way. But when their gaze met the lady’s great black +eyes dilated wide with terror, with horror! Her face +blanched to the pallor of death, her frame shook as with an +ague.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“<span class='sc'>Begone!</span>” she shrieked. “Why do you come to haunt +me?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>And with these words she fell to the floor.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em., paralyzed by amazement, stood speechless and motionless +over the woman whom she had so involuntarily +appalled and overwhelmed.</p> + +<p class='c009'>But the shriek and the fall had startled others. Four +opposite doors flew open and four women rushed out of +their rooms to see what was the matter and to behold Em. +standing like a statue of Fear over the prostrate form of +Malvina Warde.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“In the name of Heaven, what does all this mean, Miss +Palmer!” demanded Mrs. Bruce, stooping to examine the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_85'>85</span>condition of her guest, while Mrs. Templeton, Hermia, and +Belinda gathered around them.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“She has fainted,” said Mrs. Templeton.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The four women raised the unconscious form and laid +it on the hall lounge.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“How did this happen, Miss Palmer?” inquired Mrs. +Bruce while they all began to use the common methods of +reviving a swooning woman—bathing her head, beating her +hands, and applying sal volatile to her nose.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Why don’t you answer, Miss Palmer?” demanded Mrs. +Bruce without pausing in her efforts.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I—I don’t know,” stammered the frightened girl. “I +had just run downstairs and turned around when I met this +lady coming out of that door. We came on each other suddenly, +and she stared and screamed and fell. I think she +took me for a ghost.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It is very strange,” said Mrs. Templeton; “but, then, +Malvina has had heart disease for some years, and a little +thing startles her.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Do not be alarmed. Mamma is subject to these fainting +fits,” said Belinda Warde; “lay her head quite low and she +will soon recover.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>They followed the daughter’s advice, and the mother +gave signs of returning consciousness.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You had better go down, my dear. Since it was the +sight of you that first startled her you had better not be +one of the first objects that her eyes meet on opening,” said +Mrs. Templeton.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Gladly enough Em. left the circle and went downstairs. +A feeling of repulsion had come over her at the sight of +that woman for which she could in no way account.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It is strange, and unjust, and sinful,” said the girl to +herself as she tripped downstairs. “That woman never did +me any harm in all the days of my life! She never even +knew me any more than I did her, and yet it is true that I +feel such a loathing of her as I never felt for any living +creature before. I must pray it away! It will not do! I +will not have hatred in my heart—particularly such a +wicked, unnatural, and unreasonable hatred as this. I will +do that lady every kind service I possibly can, and I will try +to overcome this sudden hatred of an inoffensive stranger.”</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_86'>86</span>In the lower hall she found Ronald Bruce, standing and +staring upward.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“What is the row upstairs? Was it a mouse, or a spider, +or a candle moth that caused all that screaming and running?” +he inquired.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh! Ronald, it was I,” said Em. compunctiously.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You! What did you do?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh! I suppose I came running down the attic stairs too +swiftly and too silently——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Were you expected to creep down noisily, like an old +cripple on crutches?” laughingly demanded the young man.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Nonsense, Ronald! You must know I glided down and +met Mrs. Warde in the gloom, and she screamed and +fainted.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Was that it? Ha, ha, ha!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Don’t laugh, Ronald. She took me for a ghost.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Then she must have a bad conscience, that is all I can +say about it! Em., I hate that woman!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Don’t, Ronald. That is wicked, even supposing she ever +injured you, which perhaps she never did.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, she never did. Nor did ever snakes or scorpions +injure me, yet I hate them; and I hate that woman as I hate +them, with an instinctive hatred.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“We should not hate anything; we should not permit the +feeling of hate to take any root in our hearts,” began Em., +but before she could preach her bit of a sermon she was +interrupted by the appearance of Commodore Bruce, who +came out of his study to cross the hall on his way to the +drawing-room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“What was the matter just now? Which of the women +was in hysterics?” he carelessly inquired.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Mrs. Warde met Miss Palmer in the twilight, and +taking her for a ghost, screamed and fainted,” replied +Ronald.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Humph! I don’t wonder, seeing that she persecuted to +death one who was as much like Miss Palmer as though they +had been twin sisters. Ah, well!” said the old man to himself +as he passed on his way, “I am only a little less culpable +than herself, seeing that I should have looked after the +orphan girl whom my poor lad loved and committed to my +charge with his parting words. I have often wondered what +<span class='pageno' id='Page_87'>87</span>he meant when he said that he would have something to +tell me which would surprise and please me, but that his +lips were sealed by honor until he should return from his +three years’ voyage—that voyage, ah, Heaven! from which +he never came back! I often suspected that that unfortunate +child was——But what is the use of speculating? +The poor boy is gone, the girl is lost, and the child is dead. +The past is beyond recall, and therefore beyond regret,” +concluded the commodore as he passed to his arm-chair in +the drawing-room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. had followed him, and naturally Ronald had followed +Em., and while she busied her nimble fingers by arranging +the books and bijouterie on the center-table Ronald +stood by her side.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The dinner-bell rang.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now, where are all these women? Unpunctual as usual. +I wish I had them all on board a man-o’-war in the middle +of the Atlantic Ocean! I’d train ’em into punctuality! +Where are they, I wonder?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“They are attending to Mrs. Warde, I think, sir,” said +Em. soothingly.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Attending to Mrs. Warde? Does it take four able-bodied +women to attend to a single hysterical one? Let +’em throw a pitcher of cold water over her head—that will +fetch her to,” growled the old man as he arose from his +seat and took his cane and crept towards the dining-room, +followed by Em., who was pursued by Ronald.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You always run after uncle! You never stay behind a +moment to let me have a word alone with you,” complained +the young man.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, because it is not right far me to do so,” replied Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“What! Not when we are engaged to be married?” he +whispered.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“We are not engaged. We cannot be engaged without +the consent of parents and friends,” said Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Eh! Why, did I not swear to marry you, whether or +no?” he hurriedly whispered, for the ladies of the household +were hastening downstairs, and before Em. could reply they +were close behind the lovers.</p> + +<p class='c009'>They all entered the lighted dining-room together and +seated themselves at the table.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_88'>88</span>“Well! How is Malvina? Got over her fainting fit?” +inquired the commodore as he seated himself at the foot +of the table.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, not entirely; but she is lying down in her room +carefully watched over by Liza. She will not be able to +join us this evening,” replied Mrs. Bruce.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Humph!” exclaimed the commodore, neither very sympathetically +nor credulously.</p> + +<p class='c009'>When dinner was over the family adjourned to the drawing-room. +The old man settled himself in his arm-chair +and went to sleep. Belinda Warde placed herself beside +Ronald Bruce, and with something like her mother’s powers +of fascination held him bound for hours. The three other +ladies drew around the center-table with their fancy work of +embroidery or crochet. And Em. spent the very dullest +evening she had ever passed in all her life.</p> + +<p class='c009'>At ten o’clock precisely Commodore Bruce rang up all +the servants, sent for the old family Bible and conducted +the evening prayers.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Then he peremptorily sent every one off to bed.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. was glad to reach her attic, which had already begun +to seem like home in its privacy.</p> + +<p class='c009'>It remained just as she had left it four hours before, +except that the fire was burning so low that it scarcely half +lighted the large room with its lurid glow.</p> + +<p class='c009'>There was a box of wood in one corner near the fireplace, +and Em. took a few sticks and laid them on the smoldering +logs, and soon had a cheerful blaze.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Then she took down one of the candles from the mantelpiece, +and was about to light it when she started to hear a +voice behind her exclaiming:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Dere now! I jes’ dis minute got ’lieved offen duty to +Miss Melwiny Warde, which I had to set by her and watch +her until Miss Belindy came up to bed and let me go, and +den I ran right up here fas’ ever I could to fix your fire and +light your candles, and you gone and done it all yourself +’dout de slightest ’sideration for my feelings.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I didn’t know that you were coming, Liza,” said Em. +in a gentle tone.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now, see dere, now! Didn’t know I was coming; didn’t +have no conf’ence in me. Course I was coming, on’y I was +<span class='pageno' id='Page_89'>89</span>’tained so long dere tending to Miss Malwiny Warde. Takes +all de house to ’tend to she?” grumbled Liza as she went +about her duties, mending the fire, lighting the candles on +the dressing-table, turning down the bed and so on.</p> + +<p class='c009'>When she had completed her work she stopped and said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now, Miss Em., ef you’s afeard to sleep by yourself I’ll +fetch a little mattriss from t’other room and sleep down +here ’fore the fire to keep you company.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, no, thank you. You are very kind to think of it, +Liza, but I am not at all afraid.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You know dere ain’t nobody sleeps up here in dis +garret ’sides you.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Is there not? But it is of no consequence.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now, you better let me stay up here long o’ you, Miss +Em. ’Deed you had.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, thank you, but it is not necessary that you should. +Besides, what would Mrs. Bruce say to your changing your +sleeping place?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, she! Lor’ bless you, Miss Em., ole Marse Commodo’ +<i>he’s</i> marster and mist’ess, too, in dis house, and he +ax me to-day, he say, ‘Lizer, where dey put dat young girl +to sleep?’ I say, ‘Up in the garret.’ He say, ‘I thought +so. Now you sleep on a pallet in her room if she is afraid +to stay by herself, you hear?’ I say, ‘Yas, marster.’ And +so, Miss Em., I come up faithful to offer my services.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You are very kind. And so is your dear old master. +He shows very great consideration for me. But, as I said +before, I do not need you, Liza. By the way, where do you +generally sleep?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh! out’n de house in a room ober de stables, which +dere are six rooms dere, where de servants sleep, ’cept de +cook and de two kitchen-maids. Dey sleep in a room ober +de kitchen.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Very well, then, Liza, perhaps as it is late, you had +better go now. Shall I come downstairs and lock the door +after you?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, lor’, no, Miss! I locks de door and takes de key +ebery night myself, so as to let myself in in de morning to +wait on de ladies! But it ain’t so awful late, after all, Miss +Em. It ain’t no more an’ a quarter arter ten o’clock, so +wouldn’t you like to go through de other rooms in this +<span class='pageno' id='Page_90'>90</span>garret and look at ’em? ’Sides which, it would be good +to ’xamine, and be sure as dere ain’t no robbers nor nuffin’ +hid away in dese rooms, and you up here by yourself,” persisted +Liza.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Why, what a wise little woman you are! I’m not afraid +of ‘robbers nor nuffin’,’” said Em., smiling; “but I have +‘a cat-like love of garrets,’ and so we will look at these other +rooms, Liza. You take one candle ond I will take another, +so we will have light enough.”</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XI<br> <span class='c006'>HIDDEN LOVE</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c007'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>They seem to those who see them meet,</div> + <div class='line in2'>The worldly friends of every day;</div> + <div class='line'>Her smile is still serene and sweet,</div> + <div class='line in2'>His courtesy is free and gay;</div> + <div class='line'>Yet if by one the other’s name</div> + <div class='line in2'>Should in some careless hour be heard,</div> + <div class='line'>The heart we thought so calm and tame</div> + <div class='line in2'>Would struggle like a captive bird.</div> + <div class='line in30'><span class='sc'>Moncton Miles.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c008'>The colored girl did as she was directed, and led the +way to the hall.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“We calls de hall Canady, ’cause it’s so big and cold,” +said Liza, holding up her candle that Em. might view it.</p> + +<p class='c009'>There was nothing at all to be seen in it, except bare floor +and bare walls, the head of the stairs, at one end, a large +front window at the other, and two doors on each side leading +into the four rooms. These rooms were not connected +with each other, but opened only on the hall.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yur room is de sou’west room, Miss Em., and called +Cuba, ’cause it’s warm and dry. Now less us go in de +sou’east room, next to your’n, which we call Louisiany, +’cause it’s warm and damp.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>They entered that room, which had a musty and mouldy +atmosphere of age and decay, and was furnished with a +<span class='pageno' id='Page_91'>91</span>miscellaneous assortment of old furniture that seemed to +have served its time out in the state chambers below, and +had been retired to the rest and seclusion of the attic.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I would like to look out of the window,” said Em., +going to the front one and throwing open the shutters.</p> + +<p class='c009'>But she only looked down on the same scene by starlight +as she had beheld by sunset—the descent of the precipice, +the river, and the undulating, wooded hills beyond.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now, less look in de rooms on de north side,” said Liza, +going across the hall. “Now this nor’east room we calls +Newfoun’lan’, ’cause it’s so cold and damp,” she added as +she led the way in.</p> + +<p class='c009'>It was filled up, as the other two were, with furniture +that had once been very handsome and costly, but was now +worn out and dilapidated.</p> + +<p class='c009'>A glance into the room sufficed.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now, Miss Em., I sorter to think as you’ll like dis last +room better’n all de rest—dis nor’west room which we do +call Alasky, because it is bofe cold and dry. It’s de lumber-room +for de whole ’stablishment, and dere’s ebber so many +funny and cur’us objects in it,” said the little maid as she +admitted Em. into the fourth room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It is ‘a curiosity shop!’” exclaimed Em., looking +around upon a heterogeneous multitude of articles that +seemed to be the collection of a century—as most likely it +was.</p> + +<p class='c009'>There were costly fragments of furniture, curiously +carved chair-backs without seats; elaborately embroidered +cushions without chairs; richly gilded frames without pictures; +old, disfigured pictures without frames; busts without +heads; statuettes without hands or feet; vases without +pedestals; or pedestals without vases, and an innumerable +quantity of other things too bewildering to contemplate.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. took up one object after another with curious interest, +until at length her eyes fell upon a frameless, dusty, +dark-looking picture, half hidden among broken vases and +crippled statuettes.</p> + +<p class='c009'>It was the portrait of a youth in a midshipman’s uniform.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. took her handkerchief and wiped the dusty face +and looked at it.</p> + +<p class='c009'>A bright, frank, boyish face; a pair of merry black eyes; +<span class='pageno' id='Page_92'>92</span>a smiling lip, shadowed by a slight mustache; a brown complexion +and short, curling black hair, met her gaze.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The eyes seemed to meet hers with a mischievious, conscious +twinkle, so that she herself smiled into the smiling +face.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Her heart warmed and melted before it.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, Liza,” she said, “is this a portrait, or is it a fancy +sketch? Oh, how life-like it is. And to be pushed away +with all this rubbish! Is it a portrait, Liza?” she eagerly +inquired.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Which, Miss Em.? That? Oh, yes! That’s poor, dear +Marse Lonny’s pictur’,” replied the girl, approaching and +holding the candle to it.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Who is Marse Lonny, Liza?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Marse Lonny Bruce, miss, which was ole Marse Commodo’s +onliest son, and was lost at sea on his fust v’yage, +in de Benighted States man-o’-war <i>Eagle</i>, which it broke his +mother’s heart to that degree as she pined away and died in +less than a year afterwards.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I do not wonder, indeed,” said Em., gazing almost +fondly on the bright frank face before her.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And dey do say de commodo’ have never been de same +man since. I don’t memorize poor Marse Lonny as well as +I ought to, he being ole marster’s onliest son, and lost at +sea; but, den, Miss Em., it ain’t my fault, ’cause I wasn’t +born den; hows’ever, mammy memorizes all about him, and +de very day he got his middy’s new uniform, and de fust +time he ever put it on, which it is de self-same his portrait +is painted in.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And this is his portrait,” murmured Em. in a low voice +as she knelt down before the picture to get a nearer and a +better view.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, miss, de onliest portrait as he ebber had took, and +it was took that spring, jes’ ’fore he sailed on dat misfortnit +v’yage whar he was lost.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And why is it poked away in the lumber-room? It +seems a cruel slight.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, my dear Miss Em., ’cause de ole marster he nebber +could endure de sight ob it arter poor Marse Lonny was +drowned. If ebber he come across it by accident it would +knock him ober for all day. His onliest son, you know, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_93'>93</span>Miss Em. So Mrs. Bruce, which hab kept house for ole +marse ebber since his wife died, Mrs. Bruce she put de +picture—hung it up on de wall, you know, miss, first in one +room and den in t’other, but ole marster was sure to come +upon it in his rambles about the house some time or other, +and be upset for a whole day; so den de madam put it in +dis here garret lumber-room, whar nobody nebber comes, +not eben ole marster.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, Liza,” eagerly exclaimed Em., “since it is pushed +away in this rubbish room, do you think I might not have +it in my room? If I were to ask Mrs. Bruce do you think +she would let me have it while I stay here?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No call to bother de madam ’bout it. De madam gib +me my orders to fix up your room comfortable and ’tractive, +and to take anything out ob de lumber-room dat might be +useful. And didn’t I take de fender and de handy irons +out ob de lumber-room and mightn’t I take de picture? +Yes, miss! I’ll take de picture and de ’sponsibility bofe!” +said Liza; and suiting the action to the word she gave Em. +her candle, pulled away the <i>impedimenti</i> from before the +portrait, lifted it from its place and carried it away to the +southwest room, followed by Em., bearing the two lights.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em.’s looking-glass stood upon the dressing-table. There +was no glass on top of the old chest of drawers, but a good, +vacant place for the portrait, and there they set it.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now, to-morrow, Miss Em., I’ll hunt over de lumber-room +to try and find a frame dat will fit it. It <i>used</i> to have +a frame of its own, but de old madam took it to put another +pictur’ in. Hows’ever, I know I can find one to fit it there, +’cause you see, Miss Em., whenever I wants anything as I +haven’t got, and can’t get anywhere else, I takes a broomstick +and I goes up into the lumber-room, and I tosses up +everything till I finds what I want. So now, Miss Em., I +bids you good-night, and to-morrow we’ll frame de pictur’ +and hang it up anywhere you like,” said the kind-hearted +colored girl as she left the room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. went to the door and watched until she heard Liza +go all the way downstairs and leave the house, locking the +back door behind her.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Then she returned to her own room, fastened herself in, +and fell to the contemplation of the portrait.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_94'>94</span>The bright, frank, joyous face that seemed to smile in +hers fascinated her to such a degree that she could scarcely +withdraw her gaze for a moment from it.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I have read, or heard, that every one fated to die by +any sudden or violent catastrophe carries the shadow of the +coming ill on brow or cheek; but surely no prevision of +early death darkens this glad young face!” she murmured +to herself as she gazed with infinite sympathy, tenderness +and compassion on this counterfeit presentment of the unfortunate +young midshipman.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The sonorous hall clock began to strike eleven. Like +hammer on anvil its strokes rang through the house. Em., +with a long, lingering gaze, left the portrait and prepared +for bed.</p> + +<p class='c009'>So ended her first day at the mountain house.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em., wearied with the various fatigues and excitements +of the time, slept soundly until morning.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She was finally awakened by a rap at her door and the +voice of her little maid calling:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It’s half-past seven, Miss Em., and de ladies has breakfas’ +at eight.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Quite right! I will be ready in time,” said Em. as soon +as she had collected her scattered senses and remembered +where she was; for, indeed, on being first aroused from her +sleep she could scarcely “place herself.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Please to open de door and let me in to make your +fire, Miss Em.,” said Liza.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. jumped out of the bed and complied with the request.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Then her eyes fell upon the pictured face of Lonny Bruce—brighter, +gladder, more joyous looking by the morning +light than it had seemed the evening before.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. greeted it with such a smile as she would have given +to a living and beloved face, and then while her little maid +kindled her fire she made her simple morning toilet.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She made such good haste that when she reached the +breakfast-room she found none of the family except Ronald +Bruce.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Good-morning, Em. I was in hopes you would be down +first, so I came here on purpose to wait for you, Em. I +want you to promise to marry me.”</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_95'>95</span>“Oh, Ronald, you know I cannot do that without the +knowledge and consent of all your family and all mine,” +replied Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, but <i>with</i> their knowledge and consent,” urged +the young man.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“They will never, <i>never</i> give it, Ronald! Your family +are too proud to consent to receive the daughter of a poor +overseer as a relative. And <i>my</i> family are much too proud +to permit their daughter to enter any household where she +would not be most welcome.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But, Em., what in the Blue Dees do you mean? Is the +wicked, diabolical pride of your old folks and mine to interfere +with our lives, so as to make us both miserable all our +days?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I don’t know, Ronald; but we must do what is right.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Ronald’s impatient reply was checked by the entrance of +Commodore Bruce, who greeted his nephew and the young +girl kindly, and then growled as usual at the <i>punctual unpunctuality</i> +of the ladies of his household.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You can never rely on them but for one thing, and that +is for always being behind time. Ah! here they are at last!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>The ladies entered, interchanged the morning salutations, +and then they all went to breakfast.</p> + +<p class='c009'>It was not until they were all seated at the table that +Commodore Bruce missed Mrs. Warde, and said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, how is Malvina? Is she not sufficiently recovered +from her hysterics yet to come down?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Mamma does not feel strong enough to rise this morning, +but she will try to join us at dinner in the evening,” +Belinda explained.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The breakfast was then discussed, and when it was over +and the family party arose from the table, Em. was about to +leave the room when again the old commodore stopped her, +saying:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“My dear, don’t run away! I want you to finish reading +the papers for me, and I will promise not to go to sleep. +I never go to sleep in the forenoon, however.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. looked at Mrs. Bruce for directions.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Go with the commodore, child,” said that lady condescendingly.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. followed the old man to the library, where he seated +<span class='pageno' id='Page_96'>96</span>himself in his easy-chair, lay back at rest, and pointed to +another chair, telling Em. to draw it up, seat herself and +commence reading.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. obeyed him and spent the whole forenoon in perusing +the papers.</p> + +<p class='c009'>It was nearly two o’clock when she got through.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, now, my dear, you have given me a great deal of +pleasure, and I thank you; but I will not trouble you again +until Friday. The mails come in but twice a week to Greyrock—on +Tuesdays and Fridays. Then I get my papers, +and you shall read them to me. Go now and take a run in +the fresh air until luncheon. Young blood requires a great +deal of oxygen. Go.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. wished to say something, but could not think what. +She turned to go; then looked over her shoulder, and seeing +the pale, gray, feeble old man, with his chin bowed upon his +breast in an attitude of depression, weakness and sorrow, +her heart was filled with compassionate tenderness for him, +and she lingered, looking lovingly on him.</p> + +<p class='c009'>One thin, white, withered hand hung down by his side. +With a sudden impulse of strange affection she stepped forward, +raised the hand to her lips, dropped it, and would +have hurried away; but the hand she had kissed was laid in +benediction on her bright young head as the old man murmured:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“God bless you, my child! How kindly that was meant. +Go now and take your walk.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. left the room, ran up to her attic chamber for hat +and shawl, and then ran downstairs out of the house to the +stony front yard overlooking the descent of the precipice.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Here she was quickly joined by Ronald Bruce, who had +seen her from the front drawing-room windows and ran +out into the place.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Em.,” he whispered as he joined her, “you have not answered +my question yet. Are we both to be made miserable +all our lives by the sinful pride of our relatives?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, I did answer you, Ronald; but I will answer you +again. We cannot tell how this will end; but whatever +other people do, <i>we</i> must do what is right. And, Ronald, if +you <i>do</i> care for me, as I believe, please do not follow me +about or try to meet me anywhere. It is not discreet. Now +<span class='pageno' id='Page_97'>97</span>do but look! There is Miss Belinda Warde watching us +from the front parlor windows!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Ronald turned to catch a glimpse of the lady’s face, +which was withdrawn the instant it was detected.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am going in,” said Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“So am I,” said Ronald. “I only came out here to speak +to you, and I don’t care if all the fine ladies in Christendom +watch me. I will let them see that I love you, Em.; +for I <i>do</i> love you, and I <i>will</i> marry you in spite of them all.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>They returned to the house and Em. ran upstairs to get +ready for lunch.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Ronald went into the drawing-room, sulkily threw himself +into a chair, took up a book and pretended to be absorbed +in reading, in order to escape any interchange of +words with Miss Warde.</p> + +<p class='c009'>But still he did not feel any more at ease when Belinda, +with an offended air, arose and left the room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The family met at luncheon.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Commodore Bruce treated Em. with more than previous +kindness; but the sensitive girl perceived a shadow of coldness +in the manner of the ladies towards her, and she wondered +whether Miss Warde had not been making mischief +by certain misrepresentations.</p> + +<p class='c009'>After luncheon, just as the ladies were about to leave the +room, Mrs. Bruce called to Em.:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Miss Palmer, I wish to speak with you alone. Follow +me to my room.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I was going there, madam, to resume my needlework,” +replied Em. as she obeyed the directions of the lady.</p> + +<p class='c009'>When they had reached Mrs. Bruce’s chamber the latter +inquired:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“When is your father coming for you, Miss Palmer?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“On Saturday evening, madam, when he will take me +home to stay over Sunday, if you please,” modestly and +respectfully replied the girl.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Very well. It pleases me quite well. And you need +not take the trouble to return on Monday. I shall have no +further occasion for your services after this week,” said the +lady with cold hauteur.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. turned deadly sick at heart and ghastly pale with +mortification and disappointment.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_98'>98</span>But before her faltering lips could form a reply another +voice came from the open door, saying defiantly:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am very glad to hear that, madam; for after this +week I shall require all the young lady’s society all to myself. +Yes, and with her consent I mean to retain it just +so long as we both shall live.”</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XII<br> <span class='c006'>LOVE IN THE TOILS</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c007'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>You may as well go stand upon the beach</div> + <div class='line'>And bid the main flood bate his usual height;</div> + <div class='line'>You may as well use question with the wolf</div> + <div class='line'>Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb;</div> + <div class='line'>You may as well go bid the mountain pines</div> + <div class='line'>Still their high tops and make no further noise,</div> + <div class='line'>When they are fretted with the gusts of heaven;</div> + <div class='line'>You may as well do anything most hard,</div> + <div class='line'>As seek to alter that (than which, what’s firmer?)—</div> + <div class='line'>His stubborn heart.</div> + <div class='line in38'><span class='sc'>Shakespeare.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c008'>The speaker was Commodore Bruce, who stood in the +doorway, with one hand leaning on his ivory-headed cane +and the other against the frame of the door.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, it is you, uncle! You quite startled me. Please +come in,” said Mrs. Bruce, recovering from her momentary +panic.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Thank you. I intended to,” said the old man, advancing +and sinking into the great cushioned arm-chair which +Em., rallying from her shock, had wheeled for his accommodation.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Sit down, child; it is not good for young spines to stand +up too much,” he added as he settled himself comfortably.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. took a chair at a little distance and picked up the +needlework on which she had been engaged the day before.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You say you will not require the services of this young +lady after next Saturday?” inquired the commodore.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_99'>99</span>“Yes, I have told her so; the work we have on hand will +be finished by that time, and I shall have no more for her,” +answered Mrs. Bruce, considerably modifying the tones of +haughtiness and contempt with which she had spoken to +the poor girl.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am very glad to hear you say so, for I would like to +have her services all to myself, to read or write for me.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But, my dear uncle, Ronald would be most happy to do +all this for you.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, and look confoundedly bored all the time. No; I +want this girl.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“If you must have a young girl, I am sure our niece, +Hermia, would be delighted to——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, I shouldn’t, then; there!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Or I, myself, if you would accept my services, would +be——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Thanks, very much, my dear, I will not trouble you.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, then, there is Mrs. Warde, who really is a very +fine elocutionist——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But I don’t want to be elocutionized; particularly by +Mrs. Warde. Malvina is a fine woman for her age, but she +has a voice between a trumpet and a hand-saw. I want +Miss Palmer and no one else,” persisted the veteran.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“One would really think the poor fool was in love with +the girl and meant to marry her! But, still, that is not +very likely,” said Mrs. Bruce to herself with a shrug of her +handsome shoulders.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She did not, however, proffer the services of the only remaining +lady of the household—Miss Belinda Warde; for +she could not tell what other matrimonial whim might enter +into the old man’s mind or be put into it by the constant +presence of the handsome brunette.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am sure, uncle, if you will permit me, I could find a +much more suitable companion than this young girl,” +rather sulkily persisted Mrs. Bruce.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Thanks, very much, my dear; but <i>I</i> think the companion +that <i>suits</i> me best is the most <i>suitable</i>. I say I will +have Miss Palmer. Let the question rest. Come here, my +child.” (This was to Em.)</p> + +<p class='c009'>The young girl laid down her work and came to the side +<span class='pageno' id='Page_100'>100</span>of the old man, who took her hand and looked benignly in +her face.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. smiled, though her tears were ready to start.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Where did you get my Lonny’s smiling eyes, my dear? +You are like a boy I lost long years ago, Miss Palmer—a +brave boy, and a handsome one, or you could not be like +him. You are very like him, my dear—with one of those +accidental likenesses that are sometimes found to exist between +those of no kin. It is not in your complexion or features, +for you are fair and fragile, while my poor lost Lonny +was dark and strong—but it is so in your smile—so in your +whole expression of countenance, that I could almost fancy +my Lonny’s purified soul looked from out of your blue +eyes. It is very strange; but I cannot endure the sight of +his portrait, though I love to see his likeness in you. I +think I partly understand the reason, however,” continued +the veteran, dropping his head in meditation, while his +white beard flowed to his waist. “Yes, I think I see it, +‘as in a glass, darkly’—that portrait was the perfect image +of his material body, as I used to see it—the material body +which has perished; and which, because it has perished, I +cannot bear to see in its ‘counterfeit.’ But that which looks +at me from your fair face is the likeness of my son’s living +soul; therefore I love to contemplate it.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“How the old dotard drivels!” thought Mrs. Bruce. +“He’ll soon be a subject for the lunatic asylum.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But that is not the point now, my dear,” continued the +old man, still holding the hand of Em. “The question at +issue is whether, when you have completed your term of +service with my sister-in-law, you will enter mine, as my +reader and writer?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. paused for a moment and then, raising her blue eyes +full of the reverential, filial tenderness she felt for the +childless old man, answered earnestly:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Indeed, I should be so very happy to do so, if only Mrs. +Bruce and my mother will consent.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ha! ha! ha! <i>Mrs. Bruce</i> will consent! I’ll swear to +that! And if you have half the influence with your mother +that I have with Mrs. Bruce, <i>she’ll</i> consent. If she does not +I’ll try my ‘’prentice hand’ at persuasion, and it will go +<span class='pageno' id='Page_101'>101</span>hard but she shall give you up to me,” chuckled the old +man.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“As for <i>myself</i>, uncle, you know that your will has always +been my law,” said the lady.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, I know it; I know it, my dear,” said the commodore. +“And now, little one,” he continued, turning to Em., +“go and take a run in the grounds. Too much house is not +good for little girls. I want to talk with my sister-in-law.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. turned to her employer for direction.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Come! Run away! run away!” exclaimed the veteran.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Do as you are bidden,” loftily commanded Mrs. Bruce.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“SCAT!” stamped the commodore.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. laughed and ran out.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now, then, madam, what the demon does all this +mean?” demanded the commodore.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“All what mean? I don’t understand,” replied Mrs. +Bruce.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, yes, you do. Yesterday you could not, any of you, +be too kind to that poor girl. To-day you, all of you, so +overwhelmed the child with your studied coldness and contempt +that she looked as if she were going to expire at the +lunch-table. I could scarcely stand it myself, and so, to +counteract the effect of your combined rudeness, I was +obliged to be obtrusively attentive to Miss Palmer. I knew +perfectly well when I saw you leave the lunch-table and +order that girl to follow you to your room you were sharpening +your claws and whetting your teeth and licking your +chops in anticipation of a meal off her!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Commodore Bruce! What <span class='fss'>MONSTROUS</span> ideas you have!” +exclaimed the horrified lady. “Am I a vampire, or a cannibal?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, yes; in some sense you are. I do not mean to say +that, having lunched on chicken-pie, cold ham and custard, +you are going to dine on Em. immediately. No, but you +were going to glut your pride and surfeit your anger and +satisfy your selfishness on her, all the same, which is a +wickeder sort of cannibalism than the other, since it devours +the spirit. That child has most innocently offended you all. +Now I want to know in what manner. And I <i>will</i> know; +for while I am captain of this ship—master of this house, I +mean—no woman shall be treated with coldness and cruelty +<span class='pageno' id='Page_102'>102</span>while under my roof, and especially when at my table. +Come.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, uncle, since you <i>will</i> have it, I acknowledge that +Miss Palmer <i>has</i> offended me—has offended us all; therefore +I really do not think that you should keep her here as +you propose to do, or that you will keep her when you have +heard all about her.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I’ll be shot to death if I don’t,” said the commodore. +“But how has that harmless girl offended you? By her +beauty, grace and sweetness? I know of no other cause. +In what way has she offended you, I ask?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“In a way that would have offended any woman with a +proper sense of modesty and decorum.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But by what <i>means</i>? By what <i>means</i>?” impatiently +demanded the veteran.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“By the general indiscretion of her conduct,” coldly replied +the lady.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“By Jove! I will not take such an answer!” roared the +old commodore, bringing his fist down upon the table like +a hammer upon an anvil, and making every article on it +dance. “You would ruin an innocent girl’s reputation with +a few generalities like that! I—will—know,” he continued +slowly and emphatically, telling off every word with a +thump of his stick. “I—will—know—every detail of—time, +place, and company—word, act, and look of the indiscretion +with which you charge this child! Yes, and I +will have them established by more than one competent +witness! None of your unsupported generalities for me! +I have made myself the advocate of this innocent girl, and +will see that she suffers no wrong. No, by Jove! While +I’m commander of this ship—captain of this house, I mean—no +woman in it shall suffer injury unavenged! No, in a +few words tell me distinctly what the girl has said or done!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, I do not think that you will be any better satisfied +when you have heard,” said Mrs. Bruce maliciously. “This +is her offense, then: She has been here but two days, and +has been detected several times in private conversation with +my son, your nephew, Ronald Bruce, who follows her about +wherever she goes! There! now you have it!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“He—he—he! Ha—ha—ha! Ho—ho—ho!” laughed +the commodore. “That’s a great offence, now, isn’t it? As +<span class='pageno' id='Page_103'>103</span>if it wasn’t perfectly natural and right for a young man +to follow a young girl around when they are both shut up +in a lonely country house with a lot of old ladies!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Hermia Templeton is not old, at least, and I think she +is more interested in this matter than any one else,” gravely +replied Mrs. Bruce.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“That is true,” mused the commodore—“I beg Hermia’s +pardon. She is not old. She is young and pretty and attractive +enough for any man, and a great deal too good for +my young rascal of a nephew: but as she is to marry him, +whether or no, of course she has more at stake in this running +than any one else! But now tell me the particulars—the +particulars! Time, place, and circumstance! You +know I told you that I would have the details and have +them proved!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Mrs. Bruce told the whole story of Ronald’s and Em.’s +meetings and talks, in the drawing-room, in the dining-room, +in the library, and in the grounds. She told it, not +as it is known to you and me, reader, but with many an +exaggeration and much false coloring, as she had heard it +from Mrs. Warde and Miss Belinda—for, ill as Malvina +was, or affected to be, she was not too ill to play the part of +an eavesdropper and a detractor. And since Em. had been +in the house there was no harmless interview she had had +with her honest suitor to which either the designing mother +or daughter had not been an unseen listener.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“This must be looked into,” said Commodore Bruce, very +much more gravely than he had yet spoken. “Yes, this +must be seen to. I must give that young scamp a sound +lecture! for, mind you, it is <i>he</i> who is in fault, though, +woman-like, you put the whole blame upon her! It is he +who is to blame, and very much to blame, for he is pursuing +her and trifling with her when he knows very well, the +rascal! that he must marry my niece, Hermia Templeton, or +go to the deuce! While I am commander of this ship—I +mean master of this house—I won’t have it! Still, let me +tell you, madam, that I despise the means by which these +women have detected these interviews. They could have +done so only by eavesdropping! And, oh, Lord! how I do +loathe and detest eavesdroppers!” exclaimed the veteran +with every expression of disgust and abhorrence disfiguring +<span class='pageno' id='Page_104'>104</span>his fine old face as he arose from his seat and, leaning on +his stick, turned to depart.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Before leaving the room he paused and said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I shall say nothing to Ronald to-day. I have had quite +enough of excitement for one day—more of it would spoil +my dinner and my night’s rest—perhaps ruin my digestion +and my nervous system! So no more of this subject for +the present. I want to relish my turkey and enjoy a good +night’s sleep. To-morrow morning after breakfast I will +take my young gentleman in hand, and we will go over the +chart of his life voyage together, and I will show him his +course. To make things surer, I will also speak to my +young lady. But, in the meantime, I desire you and your +friends in the house to treat this young girl with consideration +and kindness. Let them know, if you please, that such +is my will. I shall see in a moment, by the look of that +child’s face, whether she has been treated with contempt +while out of my sight.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>With these words the veteran left the room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Mrs. Bruce cared very little for the <i>brusquerie</i> of the old +sailor, so that he had given his promise to break up the +intimacy between her son and her seamstress.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Indeed, her reason for the severe course she took towards +Em. was rather the desire to put a prompt and final stop to +the acquaintance between the young people than any dislike +to the girl herself.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Meantime Em. had gone out to the grounds for a walk, +but seeing Ronald Bruce approaching from the house she +quickly passed around to a side door, entered it, and ran up +to her room, where she arranged her simple toilet for +dinner.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. dreaded meeting the family again at the table; but +when the bell rang and she went down and found them all +assembled in the dining-room, and Commodore Bruce advanced, +took her hand and led her to her seat, and all looked +kindly or with perfect indifference on her, she felt more at +her ease.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Mrs. Warde, permit me to name to you my young +friend, Miss Palmer here, who has not had the privilege of +being presented to you before,” said the commodore with +somewhat stilted politeness to a tall, dark, haggard-looking +<span class='pageno' id='Page_105'>105</span>woman, with great black eyes, who sat opposite to Em., and +who was richly dressed in black velvet, lace and bugles, and +whom Em. immediately recognized as the lady who had +fainted at the sight of herself in the upper hall.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. arose from her chair and bent her head.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Mrs. Warde stared and returned the salutation with a +slight and haughty nod.</p> + +<p class='c009'>That was all. They were as much strangers as before +the introduction. The dinner went on; other people spoke +to Em. from time to time, but Mrs. Warde scarcely noticed +her at all, or only by a furtive, nervous glance.</p> + +<p class='c009'>As soon as the dinner was over the family party adjourned +to the drawing-room—with one exception, that of +Ronald Bruce—who sulkily absented himself from the domestic +circle that night.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The old commodore, seated in his soft-cushioned, big +arm-chair, made a point of talking to Em. until he fell +fast asleep.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The ladies of the house gathered around a large center-table +that stood under a lighted chandelier, and before the +ruddy open fire of hickory logs, where, having few intellectual +resources, they busied themselves with crochet and +gossip.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em., having no taste for either of these pursuits, sat +apart, near the sleeping old man, and wondered what they +were all doing at home, and whether Ronald Bruce would +make his appearance at all in the drawing-room that evening.</p> + +<p class='c009'>He did not; and, therefore, upon the whole, Em. spent +another one of the dullest evenings she had ever passed in +her life.</p> + +<p class='c009'>When the hour of ten, their sober bedtime, struck, and +the circle broke, Em. was glad.</p> + +<p class='c009'>But as she was about to leave the room the old commodore, +awakened by the general movement, aroused himself, +got up from his chair and took her hand, saying kindly:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Good-night, and may the Lord bless you, my dear +child!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And you, too, sir,” replied Em. in a low, timid, but +earnest tone as she bowed over his wrinkled hand and +then left the room.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_106'>106</span>She glanced up and down the hall in the hope of seeing +Ronald Bruce, to give him good-night. She could scarcely +help doing this; indeed, she was scarcely conscious of doing +it; for if she had met him, waylaying her, to speak a word, +she would certainly and very properly have rebuked him +for doing so.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Yet she heaved a deep sigh of disappointment when she +had passed all the way upstairs without seeing him.</p> + +<p class='c009'>When Em. entered her cheerful room in the attic she +found the candles on the dressing-table lighted, the fire +burning brightly, and the little maid, Liza, waiting.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Cold night, Miss Em., ain’t it? ’Spect dere’ll be a +mighty heavy frost, if not snow, ’fore mornin’. We had snow +airlier’n dis last year,” said Liza as she pushed up a chair +nearer the fire.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Then I suppose you must have winter much earlier on +these mountains than we ever have on the plains where I +was brought up,” answered Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, you see, miss, I dunno nuffin’ ’tall ’bout de wedder +’way down dere. I nebber libbed on de plains, <i>my</i>se’f. +Dunno how anybody can lib so far, far down below de sky! +You was right to come up here, Miss Em. Well, I only just +waited till you come, Miss Em., to see if you has everything +you ’quire. <i>Has</i> you?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, yes, indeed, Liza; thank you.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, den, I must go. I got to go to Miss Melwiny +Warde’s room and rub her feet till she goes to sleep, the +Lord help her; She’s an awful bad sleeper, she is, and +sometimes I has to set at de foot of her bed and rub her +feet half de night ’fore she gets quiet. Wonder to me is +how she can’t read her chapter in de Bible, and say her +prayers, and go to sleep like a Christian. Well, good-night, +Miss Em., I reckon <i>you</i> can go to sleep ’dout having of +your feet rubbed, can’t you?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, yes,” smiled Em. as the girl left the room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The bright fire shone on the portrait of Lonny Bruce, so +that the merry, mischievous young face beamed out in full +light.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ah, you beautiful and happy boy, what a dreadful fate +was yours!” murmured Em., standing before the picture. +“And your poor, bereaved old father fancies that I look like +<span class='pageno' id='Page_107'>107</span>you; and so he loves me for your sake! I wonder if I do +look like you—I, who am so fair, while you are so dark—I, +who am so steady, while you look so wild! But, perhaps, +you had your grave seasons as I sometimes have my +gay spells! Oh, dear me, I wonder why Ronald Bruce did +not come in the drawing-room all the evening! And did +not even try to bid me good-night! I know it is on his account +that Mrs. Bruce gave me warning to leave her service +so suddenly. But the dear old commodore, whom I love so +much, likes me, and is kind to me. I wonder, oh, I wonder, +if he will ever consent that his nephew may marry me! +What is the use of thinking about that? I will say my +prayers and go to sleep.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>And so she did.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XIII<br> <span class='c006'>“OLD HEADS AND YOUNG HEARTS”</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c007'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>I must be cruel only to be kind.</div> + <div class='line in28'><span class='sc'>Shakespeare.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c008'>The next morning Em. awoke to the memory of the +preceding day’s events—her unkind dismissal by Mrs. +Bruce; her immediate engagement by Commodore Bruce; +Ronald’s unaccountable absence from his mother’s drawing-room +circle, and his strange omission to appear somewhere +about the halls of the staircases to bid Em. good-night on +her way to her room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She felt a strong impulse to arise and dress quickly and +hurry down to the breakfast-room, in the probability of +seeing Ronald before any one else should be there.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She acted on this impulse; but by the time she had finished +her simple toilet, reason had come to check impulse, +and prudence to warn her that she must not seek an interview +with her lover, and, furthermore, that she must not +even risk an accidental meeting with Ronald Bruce if she +would avoid giving new cause of offence.</p> + +<p class='c009'>So, instead of hastening down to the breakfast-room, Em. +seated herself at her chamber window with a piece of +needlework in her hand and sewed until the breakfast bell +<span class='pageno' id='Page_108'>108</span>rang, and then, to make sure of not meeting Ronald alone, +she waited five minutes after the bell had stopped ringing, +for she concluded that it would be better that she should be +a little late at the table than that she should give umbrage +by a <i>tête-à-tête</i> with Ronald.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She went leisurely downstairs and entered the breakfast-room, +expecting to find all the family at the table.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She found no one present except Ronald Bruce, who +stood on the rug with his back to the fire impatiently waiting +for her.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Em.!” he exclaimed, stepping forward and taking her +hand, “I have been here half an hour, hoping you would be +down early, perhaps earlier than usual, because we could +not see each other last night. Why are you so late?” he +inquired reproachfully.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am not late, Ronald. None of the family except yourself +have yet come down. But, oh, Ronald! please do not +plan to see me alone. Your having done so has already +caused trouble. That was the reason why at lunch yesterday +the ladies treated me so coldly——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Impertinently, insolently, <i>I</i> call it! I saw it all, Em., +and my blood boiled! But what can a man do with such +women, except to avoid them?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But they were kinder to me at dinner,” said Em. apologetically.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“‘Kinder!’ They behaved towards you with proper politeness, +that was all, and I know to whose power that must be +attributed! The old commodore had ‘put his foot down’ to +that effect, I feel sure. But, Em., I could not join those +women in the drawing-room last night, when I felt that I +should not be able to play the hypocrite and treat Miss +Warde or her mother with the respect I could not feel for +them, with the respect a man should always, and under all +circumstances, show women. So to avoid them I absented +myself from the drawing-room. I went up to my chamber, +locked myself in, hated all my fellow-creatures except you, +Em., and read satires in the original Greek all the evening.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And so that was the reason why you did not come to +bid—any of us—good-night,” said Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“That, yes, that was one reason why I did not come to +bide—<i>any of you</i>—good-night. But that was not the only +<span class='pageno' id='Page_109'>109</span>reason. I was making up my mind and coming to a conclusion +that I shall act upon to-day.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, Ronald!” exclaimed Em., startled by his expression, +“I hope you will never do or say anything to distress your +good old uncle! His past life has been so full of trouble. +His remaining days are few. Let them at least be filled +with peace.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I must speak to him to-day, however, for your sake, +Em.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, no, no, no! It were must better that you should +give me up altogether than bring discord to the last days +of one to whom you owe so much!” exclaimed Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“To give you up, Em., would be to give up my freedom +of choice in a matter where the whole happiness of my life +and that of my chosen one is concerned! That would be +too heavy a price to pay, even for the great benefits I have +received at my uncle’s hands. No, Em., I will never, never +give you up!” said the young man earnestly.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“<span class='sc'>What!</span>” exclaimed the voice of the commodore.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Both the young people started as at a thunder-clap and +looked around to see the old man, leaning on his stick, as +he advanced slowly into the room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No one down but two? But, then, you are always down +first, and ought to have a medal for punctuality!” he continued +as he paused and leaned more heavily upon his stick.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Ronald stepped quickly to his side and gave him the support +of an arm, while Em. wheeled the big arm-chair to +the fire.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Both the young people were filled with painful doubts as +to whether or not the old commodore had heard the concluding +words of Ronald’s impetuous speech. Their countenances +were full of confusion, nor were their minds set +at rest by the next words of the old man, who, as soon as he +had sunk into his seat, turned a rather severe eye upon his +nephew and said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“‘My handsome young man,’ I have something very serious +to say to you. Come to my room immediately after +breakfast; I will meet you there.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Very well, sir. I will be punctual, the more so because +I have an important communication to make to you,” replied +Ronald.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_110'>110</span>“Oh, indeed!” exclaimed the old commodore.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The entrance of the ladies here put an end to the topic.</p> + +<p class='c009'>They greeted the party in the breakfast-room, received +the commodore’s rebukes for their tardiness very good-humoredly, +and gathered around the table.</p> + +<p class='c009'>As the meal progressed Ronald was taken to task for his +desertion of the preceding evening.</p> + +<p class='c009'>He coldly excused himself by saying that he had been +engaged in reading Greek and trying to solve a problem.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Miss Belinda hoped that he had succeeded in doing so.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Ronald said dryly that he hoped he had.</p> + +<p class='c009'>When breakfast was over Em. followed Mrs. Bruce to her +sitting-room, where that lady filled her hands with needlework +enough to last her all day long and left her alone.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Meanwhile Ronald Bruce repaired to his uncle’s study, +fully resolved to avow his love for Em. and ask his uncle’s +consent to marry her; but he thought that, as in duty +bound, he would defer his communication until he should +have heard what his uncle had to say to him.</p> + +<p class='c009'>When he entered the study he found the old man seated +in his big leathern chair by the long study table.</p> + +<p class='c009'>There was an empty chair placed exactly opposite to him.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Take this seat before me, that we may look each other +in the face as we speak,” said the commodore with an emphatic +rap upon the one indicated.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Ronald sat down, folded his hands before him, and +waited with the air of a rebellious child about to be catechized +or reprimanded.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The old commodore on his part dropped his head on his +chest and reflected for a few moments before opening the +discussion.</p> + +<p class='c009'>At length, however, he looked up, drew a long breath, +and began:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ronald, I asked you to come here that I might talk to +you on a very painful and very delicate subject, and I +scarcely know how to open it.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>He paused and looked at his nephew; but that young +gentleman said nothing to help him out.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Perhaps you yourself may have some suspicion of the +subject?” suggested the commodore.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Is it Miss Palmer?” sulkily inquired the young man.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_111'>111</span>“Yes, it is Em. Palmer. Ronald, I do not wish to be +hard on you. You are but a young man, shut up in a very +dull country house with a very beautiful and attractive +young girl. You could scarcely help falling a little in love +with her, so I cannot blame you for that; but, Ronald, if +you have let her perceive your love you have done wrong; +and if you have won her love in return you have done very +wrong.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Ronald started, flushed, and was about to speak, when his +uncle raised his hand and said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Hear me out, your turn will come presently.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But I <i>must</i> speak now. I never intended any wrong +to Em.—never, so help me Heaven!” burst forth Ronald.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I quite believe it,” the commodore promptly admitted. +“Yet you have already wronged her more than you know.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“How? how?” impetuously demanded the young man.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“By your thoughtless pursuit of her since she has been +in this house. By following her, lying in wait for her, +meeting her in the breakfast-room, in the study, in the +grounds, anywhere, in short, where you could find her alone. +And this you have done without her connivance, I firmly +believe!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Heaven knows that is true! Em. herself has rebuked +me for pursuing her; and yet I meant her no wrong, as I +soon hope to prove to you.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I need no proof. I know you, Ronald, and, therefore, +I am sure you meant no harm; and yet, as I said before, +you have by this conduct done her grievous wrong. You +have drawn upon her the invidious notice of evil-thinking +women. Do you know what happened yesterday?” suddenly +inquired the commodore, breaking off in his discourse.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I know that our lady guests presumed to treat Miss +Palmer with insolence! But they will find——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Never mind what they will find. There was something +worse than that happened! these women’s tongues obliged +my sister-in-law to dismiss the girl from her service.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Ronald sprang to his feet.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Did my mother have the cruelty to do that?” he exclaimed.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“She could not help herself, with those two women nagging +her on! But I was determined the child should not +<span class='pageno' id='Page_112'>112</span>be sent back to her mother in that discreditable manner, +and so I immediately engaged her as my reader and writer, +and conveyed a hint to those ladies that they would oblige +me by treating her with proper consideration. Since that, +I must say, they have behaved better.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I thought the improvement in their manner to Miss +Palmer was brought about through your interference; but +I had no idea that she had passed from my mother’s service +into yours,” said Ronald.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“She has not yet done so. She was warned to leave Mrs. +Bruce’s employment on next Saturday, when her father will +come for her. She is to come back and enter mine on Monday—unless +her parents should raise some objection, which +I do not think likely—<i>or</i>, unless you should persist in your +dangerous pursuit of her.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“‘Dangerous!’ sir?” echoed the young man.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, dangerous! Dangerous to her peace, honor and +reputation!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But, sir, you misunderstand me, quite. I love Em.!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Then you are very foolish.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I have told her that I love her!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You were very rash to do so.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And, moreover, I know that I have won her love!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Then, Ronald Brace, you have been very much to blame. +How will you ever answer to her, or to your own conscience, +for that child’s disappointed heart and lost happiness?” +sternly demanded the old commodore.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“My good uncle, I told you that you totally misapprehended +me, and I repeat it. I do not intend to disappoint +Em. Her happiness shall be the first object and fondest +care of my life,” earnestly exclaimed Ronald.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“What—in the deuce—do you mean?” slowly demanded +Commodore Bruce, staring at his nephew with distended +eyes.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“What do I mean, do you ask, sir? What does any +honorable man mean when he says that he loves a good +young girl, that he has told her so, and that he intends to +marry her?” exclaimed Ronald Bruce somewhat impatiently, +as at his hearer’s want of comprehension.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Eh? What? What the foul fiend are you saying to me, +Ronald?” demanded the provoked and puzzled old man.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_113'>113</span>“I say that with your consent, sir, I will marry Em. +Palmer,” firmly replied the young man.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Marry—Em.—Palmer?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You are raving mad! You are fit for nothing but a +strait jacket and a lunatic asylum! Marry Em. Palmer! +Why, even if she were your equal in birth, position, and +education you could not do so; for you are to marry Hermia +Templeton, you know.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Indeed, I did not know it! No word or look of love +has ever passed between me and Hermia. We like each +other well enough as cousins, but <i>not</i> enough to marry—especially +as she loves another man and I another woman!” +recklessly replied Ronald.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Then you are a very disobedient, rebellious, and unmanageable +young couple! That is all I have to say. But +I shall talk to Hermia and bring her to reason. And as for +you, Ronald, I shall expect you to give up this insane whim +and make up your mind to marry Hermia Templeton. You +two are my heirs, and you should marry and keep the property +together.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I should be very sorry to disappoint you, uncle; but +honor as well as love is engaged in this, and I cannot and +will not give up the girl I love. I must and will marry +Emolyn Palmer,” firmly responded Ronald Bruce.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Come, come, now, nephew!” said the old man as soothingly +as he would have talked to a sick and delirious patient. +“Come, come, listen to reason! I can understand +and appreciate your feelings! yes, better than you can yourself. +This love of yours is a delusion of the senses, a mere +hallucination that is sure to pass away whether you marry +the object of it or not! If you were to marry that young +girl under your present illusions they would pass away in +a few months. You would cease to love her; but you would +never cease to regret that you had so hastily married her. +Unfitted for each other in birth, culture, position, and +everything, your wedded life would be a life of misery to +both! Think of this while there is yet time, and withdraw +from this contemplated and most insane idea of marriage! +I will say no more to you at present. Go and think of what +I have said to you, and said with the most unselfish desire +<span class='pageno' id='Page_114'>114</span>to promote your happiness,” said Commodore Bruce, rising +as a signal that the interview was ended.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I thank you, sir, for your great kindness to me in this +as in all other matters. But I must not leave you under any +false impressions. I love Em., and have won her love. I +am of age and can do as I please. My pay as a lieutenant +in the navy will support my wife in moderate comfort. +Therefore, I shall certainly marry Emolyn Palmer just as +soon as I can induce her to fix a day. I say this not in +defiance of your wishes, sir, but that there may be no misapprehension +of my intentions,” concluded the young man +as he bowed and retired.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Stubborn as a mule,” said the commodore as he sank +back in his seat. “I must see the girl. With her I shall +have more success.”</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XIV<br> <span class='c006'>CRUEL TO BE KIND</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c007'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>When I had seen this hot love on the wing,</div> + <div class='line'>As I perceived it first, I tell you that,</div> + <div class='line'>If I had played the desk, or table book,</div> + <div class='line'>Or given my heart a winking mute and dumb,</div> + <div class='line'>Or looked upon this love with idle sight—</div> + <div class='line'>What might you think? No, I went round to work,</div> + <div class='line'>And my young mistress thus did I bespeak:</div> + <div class='line'>“This must not be”; and then I precepts gave her,</div> + <div class='line'>That she should keep herself from his resort,</div> + <div class='line'>Admit no messengers, receive no tokens,</div> + <div class='line'>Which done, she took the fruits of my advice,</div> + <div class='line'>And him repulsed.</div> + <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>Shakespeare.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c008'>Em. was sitting alone in Mrs. Bruce’s room, her hands +busily engaged with needlework and her thought with something +else, when the little maid, Liza, entered and said: +“Miss Em., ole Marse Commodore sent me to ax yer +how he want to see yer in the study.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>The young girl, who thought that Commodore Bruce only +<span class='pageno' id='Page_115'>115</span>wanted her to read to him, promptly laid aside her work +and arose, saying:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Very well. I will go at once; and, Liza, will you please +to tell Mrs. Bruce that the commodore has sent for me, so +that she may know why I am absent?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, miss, I’ll tell her; but, la! marse is marse and +missus bofe here! Nobody ain’t no call to make no ’scuses +to any missus when ole marse wants ’em, I tell you that,” +replied Liza as she followed the seamstress from the room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. went down to the study.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She found the old man still in his dressing-gown and +skull-cap, seated in his leathern arm-chair beside the table.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The chair just vacated by Ronald Bruce still stood before +him.</p> + +<p class='c009'>As Em. entered he leaned back wearily and sighed.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You sent for me, sir,” said the girl as she drew near.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, child. Take this seat in front of me. I wish to +talk to you,” he answered gently.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. sat down, feeling somewhat embarrassed to be so +near and so directly under the eyes of Commodore Bruce.</p> + +<p class='c009'>But the old man gazed kindly down on her drooping face +and thought how much it looked like that of his poor lost +boy, Lonny, when the latter was a lad and was under rebuke +for some childish fault.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Do not be afraid of me, my dear,” he said gently, as he +observed her confusion.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am not afraid, only——” Em. began and stopped.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You are not afraid, only you are <i>afraid</i>. You think I +am going to talk to you of Ronald. Is it not so?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. could not speak; she bowed and caught her breath.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You are right, my child,” answered the commodore, and +then he dropped his head upon his chest until his long gray +beard swept to his waist, and he fell into silent thought.</p> + +<p class='c009'>It had been hard to open the subject with the young +man; it was very much harder to do so with the young +girl.</p> + +<p class='c009'>At length he raised his head, and looking at her very +kindly, said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Little Em., I do not know that I can give you a wiser +lesson or do you a greater service than by telling you two +<span class='pageno' id='Page_116'>116</span>little incidents in my life’s experience as examples. Will +you listen?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, sir,” breathed the girl in tones so low that the +words scarcely reached his ears.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“When I was a young man I fell desperately in love. +You smile, Em.; but fifty years ago I <i>was</i> a young man +of twenty years, and, as I said, desperately in love with a +pretty, amiable but illiterate and humbly-born girl. I +wished to marry her, but my father and mother were bitterly +opposed to the match. The controversy ran high. It +almost estranged me from my parents. At length there +was a compromise. I agreed to wait a year until I should +be of age before proposing to my love. And they agreed, +in the event of my continuing to desire the marriage at the +end of that time, to withdraw their opposition. I was soon +after ordered to sea for a three years’ voyage. The end of +that time found me at the antipodes—at the port of Canton—more +interested in the manners and customs of the +Chinese than in the image of ‘the girl I left behind me.’ +Even if it had been practical for me to do so, I know that +I should not then have claimed my parents’ promise of their +consent to my proposal of marriage to her. I had got over +my ‘puppy’ love, as they probably anticipated that I would +when they enticed me into that compromise which was our +salvation.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>As the old man uttered these words he looked wistfully +at Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She had been rosy red under his scrutiny before, but +now she was marble white; her eyes were fixed upon the +floor, and her fingers were clasped tightly together on her +lap.</p> + +<p class='c009'>He gazed at her pityingly for a moment, then sighed and +took up the thread of discourse.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I say ‘ours’ child, for when I returned from my three +years’ voyage I found my fair one the happy wife of a handsome +young workman and the proud mother of a bouncing +boy. It was a shock to my vanity, but it was a relief to +my heart. I was all right; but I felt a little anxious to +know whether she was. I called to see her as an old friend. +She received me with frank cordiality, and showed me her +baby and made me stay to tea to see her husband. When +<span class='pageno' id='Page_117'>117</span>he came home she met him and hurried him upstairs ‘to +clean himself,’ as she told me. And when at length he +joined us at the tea-table, she took my breath away by introducing +me as ‘an old beau’ of hers, who had been ‘awful +spoony’ on her at one time, adding, with more frankness +than delicacy:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“‘And, you know, I’d married you <i>then</i> if the old man +and old woman hadn’t raised such an awful row and kept +you from asking me! But, Lord! ain’t I glad they did! +For soon after that I met my Charley here at a picnic, +and we were married three weeks afterwards. And every +day, when I think of it, I feel so awful glad, for I wouldn’t +give my Charley for a Secretary of the Navy, let alone a +little middy, who would be rushing off to sea every whipstitch +and leaving me alone nearly all the time. One better +be a widow at once than sich a wife!’ she concluded with +a loud laugh.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, Em., I was, at the same time, and by the same +means, humbled and relieved. Two years after that I met +the woman who became my wife. Our marriage was so +happy that one of my brightest anticipations of the next life +is that of meeting her, with whom I hope to spend eternity. +As for the well united young couple who are the subjects +of my story, they lived and prospered. In the course of +years the young workman rose to be a partner in the firm +in whose service he had commenced as porter. They are +still living, though both over seventy, and—a curious coincidence, +Em.—their son, the Honorable —— ——, is now +Secretary of the Navy and my superior officer. Now, what +do you think of my first love, Em.?” cheerfully inquired +the commodore.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I think—I hope—I <i>pray</i>,” faltered the girl, keeping +her eyes fixed upon the floor and twisting and untwisting +her clasped fingers, “that <i>all</i> first love is not so fickle as +yours and hers.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ah, humph! humph! I might have expected that +answer, of course. But now, my dear, as I began by saying +that I had <i>two</i> incidents in my experience to relate to you +for your instruction, and as I have told you the first story, +which does not seem to have edified you much, I will now +tell you the second. Will you listen?”</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_118'>118</span>“Oh, yes, sir,” sighed Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well! At the very time that I was so insane on the +subject of my first and most ill-placed love, I had a schoolmate, +a young medical student, who was madder than I +was. He loved to frenzy the beautiful daughter of a poor, +ignorant workingman. She <i>was</i> beautiful, but beauty was +her only attraction. Her intelligence was very low and her +temper unhappy. But notwithstanding this, my young +friend, ensnared by her beauty and his own eyes, and in defiance +of all his family and friends, married her. I do not +know how much or how little of happiness they enjoyed +in the first years of their marriage, for I was at sea, and +our paths lay apart. But in after time, when they had a +growing family around them, they had gone so far apart +that they were completely estranged. They hated each +other with a deep and grievous hatred. They often reproached +each other with great bitterness and venom. She +was a ‘millstone around his neck,’ pulling him down and +keeping him down in the social scale. She could not, perhaps, +help being so. But he blamed and despised her for +this, and she hated and upbraided him because he blamed +and despised her. The children of that wretched household +were both in temperament and in position very unhappy. +They left home as soon as through marriage or +employment they could escape from it. Not one of them +has succeeded in life. Much of this family misery might +have been hidden from the world, for the man, in <i>this</i> respect, +was wise and reticent, but the woman was silly and +blatant, and flaunted her domestic troubles in the face of +every friend who came near her. The worst was——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, please, <i>please</i> tell me no more!” exclaimed Em., +instinctively putting her hands to her ears.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The commodore looked at her and smiled.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, I beg pardon, sir; but it was so dreadful,” said +the girl apologetically, as she took down her hands.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“My child, if this state of things is so dreadful to <i>hear</i>, +what must it be to <i>bear</i>? inquired the old man with incisive +earnestness.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, why do you tell me these sad stories?” said Em., +almost on the verge of tears.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“For an example and a warning, my child. Listen, little +<span class='pageno' id='Page_119'>119</span>girl. My nephew, Ronald, loves you, or fancies that he +does.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em.’s complexion, that had been marble white before, +now suddenly flushed scarlet all over face, neck and bosom. +The old man noticed it, but continued ruthlessly:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ronald is of age, is his own master, and has a profession +that will enable him to support a wife in decent competency. +He can therefore marry whom he will, and in +open defiance of his family and friends, if he pleases. He +will probably ask you to marry him, Em. If so, what will +be your reply?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I will wait until he does ask me, sir, and then I will +give <i>him</i> my reply,” said Em. with gentle dignity.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Humph! humph! humph! I hope it will be a proper +one, Miss Palmer. If you consent to marry Ronald Bruce, +I will tell you what then will be your fate. It will be that +of the woman I have just described to you. Ronald loves +you <i>now</i>, or thinks he does. He will marry you if he can; +but his love, such as it is, will not last—cannot last. He +will tire of you in a few weeks or months at longest; he will +then dislike you—perhaps hate you—because, by having +accepted his first offer of marriage, you will come between +him and his inheritance, as indeed you will have done; for +I will never leave this place to my nephew except on the +condition that he marries my niece; for those two are my +only heirs, and I will not have the property divided. +Should Ronald marry any other than Hermia I shall leave +the estate to her. So you see, my dear girl, into what +depths of ruin you will cast both Ronald and yourself by +accepting him. He will be an impoverished, disappointed +and regretful husband. You will be that most miserable +of all women—a despised wife.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. uttered a little impulsive, half-suppressed cry and +hid her face in her hands.</p> + +<p class='c009'>But after a few moments she recovered herself, and with +something of gentle dignity arose and stood before the old +man.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Resting one hand on the table, she raised her eyes to his, +looked him steadily but modestly in the face and said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I do not think that this would be the result of our marriage +should Mr. Bruce renew his offer and I accept it. If +<span class='pageno' id='Page_120'>120</span>I should ever marry, my husband should never despise me. +Be sure of that. But, Commodore Bruce, have no fears of +me. Set your heart at rest. I would never enter any family +who were opposed to receiving me; nor, were I inclined to +do so, would my father and mother consent; nor, finally, +could I take any course against their will. To-morrow my +father will come for me to go home and spend Sunday. I +shall take leave of you and then depart, not to return.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>She ceased to speak, and was about to go away when +the words of the commodore arrested her steps.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now I have hurt you, my child. I did not mean to do +so. I beg your pardon, Em. Ah! it was very cruel to +wound you.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No—yes—no,” said the girl in some distress. Then +raising her eyes to his, and seeing the pale, old, anxious +face, her heart melted towards him. She lifted his withered +hand and pressed it to her lips, turned and left the room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“She has the spring of a fine spirit under all her downy +softness. I don’t wonder at poor Ronald. Upon my +sacred word and honor I don’t! <i>What a pity!</i>” sighed the +old commodore to himself.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Meanwhile Em. fled to her attic chamber. And not until +she had locked herself in did she give way to the storm of +emotion that overwhelmed her.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She threw herself, weeping, on the bed and wept long +and bitterly.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The summer gust of tears refreshed her, as a thunder +gust refreshes nature. With a healthful reaction she felt +better after it had passed.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She arose and rearranged her disordered dress, and went +downstairs to Mrs. Bruce’s room and resumed her needlework +and sewed diligently until luncheon time.</p> + +<p class='c009'>There were two vigilant eavesdroppers in that house, and +all the walls had ears. So it had already become known +in the family that Em. was going away the next day, not +to return, and so throughout the hour of lunch they all, +with two exceptions, treated her with distinguished kindness. +The exceptions were Commodore Bruce, who always +had used her well, and now made no change, and Ronald +Bruce, who spoke to no one if he could help it, but sat and +sulked through the whole meal.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_121'>121</span>After lunch Em. hurried up to Mrs. Bruce’s room and +took her work, being desirous of doing her whole duty by +her employer.</p> + +<p class='c009'>And for the short remainder of her stay the girl worked +very diligently, confining herself all day long to Mrs. +Bruce’s room, and even taking her work to the attic and +stitching half the night.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She never saw Ronald Bruce except at meal times, and +then never spoke with him beyond the conventional greeting.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Before Saturday evening at six o’clock she had completed +her last piece of work and handed it over to Mrs. Bruce.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Then she packed her trunk and her handbag, dressed +herself for her journey home, and sat down before the portrait +of Lonny Bruce to gaze at it and enjoy it while waiting +for the arrival of her father.</p> + +<p class='c009'>At a few minutes after six o’clock Liza entered the attic +chamber and said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“If you please, Miss Em., your father has come for you. +And my missus sent you dis, and ax you will you send her +a deceit for it. And Mose is outside de door, waitin’ to +carry down your trunk to de wagon.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Very well, Liza, tell Mose to come in,” said Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Then, while the man was carrying down her trunk, she +opened the blank envelope that had been handed to her by +Liza and found in it three dollars—her week’s wages.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Now Em. could never have told why, at the sight of that +money, the blood rushed to her head and flooded all her +face and neck with fiery flushes. But certainly she quickly +replaced the notes in the envelope, dampened the gummed +edges with her lips and sealed it, and then took a pencil +from her pocket, turned the envelope face up on the mantel-shelf, +and standing there, directed it to Mrs. Bruce.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Here, Liza, take this to your mistress,” she said, handing +it to the girl.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Is this the deceit?” inquired Liza.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It is the best sort of receipt,” replied Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Then she gave Liza a belt and buckle for a keepsake and +sent by her a woolen neck-scarf to Mose.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now I’ll go down,” she said to herself, and take leave +<span class='pageno' id='Page_122'>122</span>of the dear old man, for somehow I love him, though he +breaks my heart.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She ran nimbly down the stairs and into the study, but, +instead of the commodore, there sat Ronald Bruce in the +big leathern chair.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, Ronald! I expected to find your uncle to bid him +good-by!” exclaimed Em., glad but frightened at this unexpected +meeting with her lover at the last moment.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, Em.! Do you grudge me these few minutes? My +uncle went out to speak to your father to try to prevail on +him to come in. I knew you would come here to take leave +of him, and so I just slipped in to receive you. Ah, Em., +are you indeed going for good?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, Ronald, in every sense of the word, I am going +for <i>good</i>. It is <i>not</i> good for either of us that I should remain +here. Good-by, Ronald! I know my father is waiting +for me.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Good-afternoon, but not good-by! I will see you to-morrow, +Em., and see your father also! What! not one +parting kiss?” he complained, as she firmly repulsed his +offered salute. “Then I will see you to your carriage, +‘whether or no,’” he added with a rueful smile, as he followed +her out of the house.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XV<br> <span class='c006'>HOME AGAIN</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c007'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>Now soon your home will greet you</div> + <div class='line'>And ready kindness meet you,</div> + <div class='line'>And love that will not flee.</div> + <div class='line in32'><span class='sc'>Percival.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c008'>They found John Palmer standing at the head of a +powerful white mare, before a large, old-fashioned gig.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. had not seen her father for a week, and during that +separation from him she had, for some incomprehensible +reason, thought of him only from first impressions—as she +had known him in Laundry Lane—gaunt, sallow, dark, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_123'>123</span>stooping. She was now, for the first time, struck with the +change that had come over him since he had lived the more +wholesome life of the mountaineer, as he stood there, erect, +tall, strong, handsome, and, in spite of his hair turning +“sable silvered,” younger looking than she had ever known +him.</p> + +<p class='c009'>He stood, listening to the discourse of Commodore Bruce, +hat in hand, in deference to age, not rank.</p> + +<p class='c009'>A thrill of fear shook the girl’s nerves as she saw them. +What were they discussing so earnestly? Ronald and herself? +Oh, why would old folks interfere so much with poor, +young lovers? It was like picking the hearts out of flowers, +she thought to herself, as she shrank for a moment before +approaching them.</p> + +<p class='c009'>But no! what a relief! They were not talking of Ronald +or herself. They were talking of crops, stocks, finances—or +at least Commodore Bruce was talking and John was +listening.</p> + +<p class='c009'>As Em. came up the commodore ceased to speak, and +John turned toward her, saying:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, my dear, are you all ready? I am glad to get +you back again, lass, I tell you. I never knew how lonesome +a house full of people could be, Em., until you were +gone. But ‘sich is life,’” he added, as he kissed her and +gave his hand to lift her into the gig.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And, oh, I am glad to see you again, father, dear, good +father! There is Lieutenant Bruce,” she whispered, as he +settled her comfortably in her seat.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ah, how do you do, Lieutenant? Happy to see you, +sir. Very happy! You have been away since I saw you +last?” heartily exclaimed John, as he seized and shook the +young man’s hand, adding: “Sorry I cannot stop to have +a good talk with you now; but it is getting late. It will +be dark before we get home, and the roads are dreadful.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, yes!” exclaimed the old commodore, who did not +approve of this friendliness under all the circumstances. +“Yes, the roads are very dangerous to be traveled after +dark. Don’t stand talking to Mr. Palmer and keeping him +here all night, Ronald.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Ronald had not said a word up to this moment. John +<span class='pageno' id='Page_124'>124</span>had done all the talking. Now, however, the young man +warmly shook the hand of the overseer, saying:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I will not detain you now, much as I should like to do +so, but I will drop in on you very soon.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“<i>Do, do, do</i>, now; and the <i>sooner</i> you do the better! +You’ll always find a plate at the table and a bed in the +house heartily at your service,” earnestly exclaimed the unsuspicious +John, as he stepped into the gig, seated himself +beside his daughter and took the reins in his hands.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Good-by, Commodore Bruce,” said Em., bending from +her seat and holding out her hand. “Please make my excuses +and adieux to the ladies. I did not see any of them +as I came out. They were all in their rooms.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Dressing for dinner—a fearfully long task for them, +my dear. I will give them your message, though they don’t +deserve it. Good-by, and God bless you, my dear,” said +the old man, pressing a kiss upon her bent forehead and +withdrawing.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Good-by, Lieutenant,” said Em. in a lower and less +assured tone, as she doubtfully held out her hand.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Good-night; but not good-by. I shall see you very, +very soon. <i>To-morrow afternoon</i>,” he added in a lower +tone, as he raised her hand and pressed it to his lips and +in his turn withdrew.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“They seem main fond of you at that house, Em.,” said +John Palmer, as they drove through the end gate and took +the roundabout road leading down the mountainside. “But, +Lord! who wouldn’t be fond of her,” he mentally added in +a meditative mood.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“They were very kind to me, father,” answered the girl, +who found it a hard task to speak steadily and without +tears.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Why, yes; the old man and the young one took leave +of you as lovingly as if you’d a-been the sister of one and +the daughter o’ t’other.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Are they all well at home, father?” inquired Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Every one as well as con be,” heartily responded John. +“And now, little daughter, I know how hard it is for a +girl to hold her tongue under any circumstances, especially +when she has been away a week from home; but just try to +keep quiet, my dear, until we get to the foot of this mountain, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_125'>125</span>for it will take all my attention to look after Queen +Bess,” said John, as he tightened the reins of the mare to +hold her up in going down hill.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Very well, father; but remember, I am loving you all +the time, although I am not telling you so,” said Em., with +an attempt at a smile, which, even if she had succeeded, +could not have been seen by him for whom it was intended, +for the short though brilliant twilight of the autumn had +faded away, and it was growing dark in the wooded mountain +road.</p> + +<p class='c009'>They drove on slowly and in silence, winding down the +mountainside.</p> + +<p class='c009'>An hour’s careful driving brought them down to the foot +of the precipice and to the banks of the river.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Then John paused for a few moments to rest his horse.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“The old commodore was main fond of you, Em.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, father, and I of him, too.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Indeed! Were you now? That’s odd! He said he +wanted you to stay with him as his reader and writer after +you had got through with Mrs. Bruce’s sewing, but you +declined.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am glad of it! Why, Em., what on earth should an +edicated old gentleman like him, with a good pair of spectacles, +want of a reader and writer, especially a young girl +like you? It is all in my eye, Em.! The old man wanted +to marry you! A thing as your mother and I never would +have consented to, no, not if he had been as rich as +<i>Creases</i>!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, oh, oh, father!” cried Em. in a perfect ecstacy of +horror. “It was nothing like that! Nothing, nothing like +that! He never would have dreamed of such a dreadful +thing! Oh, no, no, no! Oh, father, how could you dream +of such—oh, father!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I don’t know, Em. These aged old gentlemen, when +they are widowers, are perfect wampires after young wives, +and think they can buy a pretty one for money, just as easy +as a heathen could go buy a girl in one o’ them slave +markets in London or Paris, or some o’ them Pagan nations +where they sell young women for wives. Wish one on ’em +would come after <i>you</i>, Em.! I would send him home with +<span class='pageno' id='Page_126'>126</span>a wasp in his ear that would make him dance livelier ’n he +did in his boyhood’s days! Would be almost as good for +him as a young wife! Are you cold, child? Wrap your +shawl closer around you; you are shivering.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, father, dear, but this talk is horrible,” said the girl, +shuddering.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Glad to hear it! It was so intended! And now I hope +you won’t think any more of marrying a rich old dotard +and being made a lady of <i>that way</i>! said John sturdily.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, father, I never <i>did</i> think of it; nor no one else +that I know of except you!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Glad to hear <i>that</i>, too! Hope you never will! No, +Em., no rich old husbands for you! I want you to have +a happy life, my girl. By and by, when the proper time +shall come, I hope you will wed some good and good-looking +young fellow of your own rank, with whom you will be +as happy as your mother and I have been all our lives. +Yes, the Lord knows, and I thank him,” said John, reverently +raising his hat, “that we have been very happy in +spite of poverty, sickness, death and the common ills that +come to us all. For what is this life but a climbing-place +to the higher? And what are these troubles but the stones +that must sometimes bruise our feet, and the thorns that +may pierce our flesh? When a faithful, loving pair travel +this upward road together, Em., they do not mind these +troubles by the way. So I hope, my girl, that some day +you may be the wife of some honest young fellow of your +own class, and not the toy and slave of a rich old husband. +But there, I won’t preach any longer. Queen Bess is tossing +her head and shaking her ears in impatient scorn of my +discourse. She wants to get home to her stall and her oats,” +said John, laughing, as he started the white mare.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And she is no better tempered than her namesake,” +said Em., as they went along.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The rest of the road home was short and easy, leading +along the banks of the river, with the woods on one side +and the water on the other, and then by a short angle leading +through the thicket up to the park gate, which was wide +open to receive them, with old ’Sias on the watch to welcome +them.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Little old ’Sias grinned literally “from ear to ear” as he +<span class='pageno' id='Page_127'>127</span>bowed and continued to bow while the gig rolled through +the gate.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am so glad to see you again, Uncle ’Sias! Come up +to the house and talk with us this evening,” said Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“So I will, miss! ’Deed I feel as you’d been gone a +year, more or less!” returned the old man.</p> + +<p class='c009'>But they were soon out of hearing, for Queen Bess, finding +herself so near home, mended her pace, nor thought of +slacking it until drawn up in front of the old red wing.</p> + +<p class='c009'>It was soon quite dark, but a cheerful firelight gleamed +through the open doors and unshaded windows of the house.</p> + +<p class='c009'>All the family came forth to meet Em. with joyful welcomes, +as though she had been absent on a six years’ tour +in a foreign country instead of a six days’ sojourn in the +immediate neighborhood.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Mother, sisters and brothers took her in their arms in +turn and warmly embraced and kissed her, while the little +Italian girl danced frantically around, among them all, +waiting for a chance to get at her “Caressima,” as she continually +called Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now, Tom, run and put up the horse and gig. You +can do the rest of your welcoming after you come back,” +said John.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The youth ran off to obey his father, and the family +party entered the house and passed on into the sitting-room, +where a fire of pine logs and cones was blazing up +the chimney, lighting up the whole house.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Here Ann Whitlock and Aunt Monica were both engaged +in putting finishing touches on the neatly-set tea-table, +where extra dainties had been placed in honor of the daughter’s +return.</p> + +<p class='c009'>But both the old women left off work and ran to welcome +their favorite.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, let Em. go upstairs and take off her things—<i>do</i>!” +said Molly, carrying her sister off in triumph.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“See now what a nice fire Ned kindled for you, Em. +Isn’t it just splendid to have such a grand plenty of wood +that we can make a roaring fire to warm a great room like +this?” said Nelly, who had followed her sister to the attic.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“<i>I</i> brought all the cones to kindle with, <i>my</i>self,” added +little Vennie, who came creeping up behind all the rest.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_128'>128</span>Em. turned and kissed the little creature, and then unpacked +her trunk, which her father and Ned had already +brought up to her room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Assisted by busy and affectionate little helpers, Em. soon +got through her task, and leaving her chamber in perfect +order, and followed by a bevy of little sisters, she hurried +downstairs to the sitting-room, where all the rest of the +family were waiting for her.</p> + +<p class='c009'>As soon as she entered tea was placed on the table, and +they all sat down to it.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The father of the family asked a blessing, and then they +all fell to with good appetites and fine spirits.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Ah, how different was the atmosphere of this lowly, loving, +merry party to that proud, cold, gloomy circle she had +left behind! Coming from one to the other was like passing +from purgatory into Paradise. It was almost worth +parting with Ronald to experience such a change.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Almost! not quite, as the aching from the depths of her +heart seemed to assure her.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She had loved Ronald Bruce from the first hour she had +met him—when he had saved her life by laying her brutal +assailant stunned at her feet. She had loved him involuntarily, +secretly, silently—never dreaming that her love was +but the response of his own unspoken passion.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Now she knew he loved her, and had loved her from their +first meeting. Ronald Bruce, who had traveled all over the +world, and had mixed with the best society in many countries, +and who from his position and prospects might have +chosen his wife from almost any class—had overlooked all +others to choose <i>her</i>, Em., above all other women—to choose +her, who had neither wealth, position or accomplishments—nothing +but herself. And if she had loved him at first +she adored him now! Oh, how she longed for all the advantages +that might make her as acceptable to Ronald’s +family, as, without any of them, she was to him!</p> + +<p class='c009'>Even seated in the sweet circle of this pure, unselfish +family affection these thoughts troubled her peace.</p> + +<p class='c009'>No wonder then that in the solitude of her own attic +chamber, when she had retired to rest that night, that they +should destroy her repose.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_129'>129</span>Em. lay wide awake all night thinking, dreaming.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Now tempting thoughts came to the troubled, wakeful +dreamer, “in the waste and middle of the night.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. remembered Ronald’s last words whispered in her +ear just as he left her seated in the gig by her father’s side.</p> + +<p class='c009'><i>To-morrow afternoon</i>, he had said.</p> + +<p class='c009'>To-morrow afternoon, then, Ronald would be sure to +make his appearance. He would be sure to ask her father +for her, as he had declared he would.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Her father liked Ronald very much, she knew; but he +would never listen to his suit for her hand unless that suit +came authorized by Ronald’s uncle. And so it would never +come. And so her father would refuse her to Ronald, and +would probably request him to refrain from visiting the +house.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Then Ronald would be sure to seek an interview with her, +and he would press her to end all their trouble by marrying +him at once.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Now why—the tempter asked her—should she not take +him at his word? These old people—the evil-one whispered—whose +pride and stubbornness were separating Ronald +and herself, were interfering with their loves beyond +all reason and justice. They had no right to make two +young people wretched all their lives. They could not do +so, if Ronald should have his own way. And nothing obstructed +<i>that</i> but Em.’s own scruples. Ronald’s and her +happiness now depended upon herself alone. Why should +she not make sure of it by accepting him as her husband? +A few hours’ travel would take them into Maryland, where +they could be legally married, although she was not of age. +Then they would instantly return to the manor-house and +ask forgiveness.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Her gentle father, her tender mother, would be <i>sure</i> +to forgive them on the asking. Then they would be happy.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Yes; but that father and mother! Should she wound +those gentle and tender hearts by an act of disobedience +that would be nothing less than a cruel insult to them, receive +it however charitably they might?</p> + +<p class='c009'>And then her promise to Commodore Bruce, whom she +loved, though he <i>did</i> almost break her heart!</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_130'>130</span>Em. could come to no decision on her future course of +action.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Act as she might, she could not escape suffering in herself +and causing suffering to others.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Thus thinking and dreaming, she lay wide awake all +night, and was glad when she saw the dawn of morning +through the uncurtained eastern windows of her room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She arose and mended her fire, replenishing it from the +box of fuel in the corner. Then she bathed and dressed, +offered up her morning prayers and went downstairs.</p> + +<p class='c009'>It was now sunrise, and the sunshine was filling the +sitting-room, where all the family were assembled for morning +worship.</p> + +<p class='c009'>They greeted Em. affectionately and then seated her +among them.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The father opened the family Bible and read a chapter +and then reverently closed it and led their devotions.</p> + +<p class='c009'>After this breakfast was placed upon the table.</p> + +<p class='c009'>It was while handing her daughter a cup of coffee that +Susan Palmer looked in Em.’s face and exclaimed:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I do declare, child, that your week’s stay at the old +commodore’s hasn’t improved you much! I didn’t notice +it last night by candle-light, but now I see you by daylight, +you are as pale as a ghost.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, <i>that</i> she is,” chimed in several of the others.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It is sitting so much over her needle! She sha’n’t do it +again, that is certain,” said John positively.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, she sha’n’t, and I am glad this is Sunday, so she +may have a complete rest,” added Susan.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The nearest church was thirty miles off; so John +Palmer’s family could only attend it once a month, on +communion days, when they had to take a Saturday afternoon’s +journey and stay over until Monday morning.</p> + +<p class='c009'>But whether they were privileged to go to church, or +compelled to stay at home, the Sabbath was always conscientiously +observed by them.</p> + +<p class='c009'>After breakfast, when order was restored, John Palmer +assembled his family and read the morning service, every +member of the household taking part in it.</p> + +<p class='c009'>They had always a nice, appetizing Sunday dinner, +though no cooking was ever done beyond boiling water to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_131'>131</span>make tea or coffee and warming over the soup and meat +that had been prepared the day before.</p> + +<p class='c009'>After dinner each individual pleased himself or herself +by reading, walking, talking or sleeping.</p> + +<p class='c009'>This particular Sunday afternoon, however, all the +family were assembled around the fire in the sitting-room, +questioning Em. concerning her week’s sojourn on the +mountain, and she was telling them all she could communicate +without unveiling the mystery of her own heart.</p> + +<p class='c009'>While they were all thus engaged the old gatekeeper, +’Sias, put his head in at the door and said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Young Marse Lieutenant Ronald Bruce have come to see +you, sar, and would like to pay his dispects, if conwenient.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Mr. Bruce! Well, I declare!” exclaimed Susan Palmer +in surprise.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Humph! I thought as much!” said Ann Whitlock +significantly.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Am I to denounce de young ge’man into de house?” +inquired old ’Sias.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, certainly,” cordially responded John Palmer, while +Em.’s heart bounded with delight.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XVI<br> <span class='c006'>PROPOSALS</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c007'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>Heaven, forming each on other to depend,</div> + <div class='line'>As master, or as servant, or as friend,</div> + <div class='line'>Bids each on other for assistance call,</div> + <div class='line'>Till one man’s weakness makes the strength of all.</div> + <div class='line'>Wants, frailties, passions closer still ally</div> + <div class='line'>The common interest, or endear the tie.</div> + <div class='line'>To those we owe true friendship, love sincere,</div> + <div class='line'>Each home-felt joy that life inherits here.</div> + <div class='line in45'><span class='sc'>Pope.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c008'>Ronald Bruce came in smiling. All the family arose to +receive him.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_132'>132</span>“Don’t let me disturb you, pray. How do you do, Mr. +Palmer! And you, madam!” said the young man, shaking +hands with John, bowing to Susan, and then pressing the +hand of Em. before he finally subsided into the chair set +for him by Tom.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Hope you left the commodore and all the family well, +sir?” hospitably inquired John.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Quite well, thank you, Mr. Palmer. And I have no +doubt, if they had known I was coming here, they would +have sent kindest remembrances to you and your daughter,” +replied Ronald Bruce.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh! They didn’t know you were coming, then?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No. They were all taking their Sunday afternoon naps +in their chambers when I left home.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ah! Well, I am very glad to see you, Lieutenant, I +am sure! Always take such pleasure in your sea stories! +It’s almost like going to sea myself to hear you! And—well, +I was thinking only to-day that the first time I should +see you I would ask you how you spend Sundays on board +ship. How <i>do</i> you, anyhow?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well,” laughed the young man, “as variously as you +do on land. It depends on the character of the captain of +the ship at sea, as it does on the master of the house ashore. +Of course, much of the routine of ship duty must go on, +just as some housework must be done. If the captain of +the ship is a religious man we have divine service in the +forenoon. In the afternoon every one spends his leisure +as he pleases. I remember one Sunday afternoon——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>And here, to please his desired father-in-law, Ronald +Bruce launched into a sea story that soon absorbed all the +attention of the family party.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Even old ’Sias and Aunt Monica stepped in and sat down +in an obscure corner to listen. And not until it was finished +could Mrs. Whitlock make up her mind to steal away +and prepare an extra supper for the guest.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Then old Monica and Uncle ’Sias followed to lend their +aid.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I never see such idiwuts as John Palmer and Susan is! +Do they think as that young hossifer comes here for the +pleasure of seeing them, I wonder? Why don’t they all +make some excuse and leave the young folks together and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_133'>133</span>give ’em a chance!” burst forth Mrs. Whitlock as soon as she +found herself in the kitchen.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“If he comes here after Miss Em., dey is right not to +give him a chance to court her, ’cause no good can’t come +out’n that; he being of a rich young gentleman, an’ +she——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“A <i>lady</i>, every inch of her,” broke in Mrs. Whitlock, +cutting Aunt Monica’s speech short.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And so she may be in her ways an’ manners, an’ I don’t +deny so she is. But, la! dat ain’t what <i>his</i> people would +look at. Ole Marse Commodore Bruce is particular. Why, +chillun, I used to know dat ole man good, an’ hear him +talk, when he came to our old Marse Captain Wyndeworth’s +oyster suppers. Bless patience, honeys, <i>blood</i> was his first +’sideration an’ <i>money</i> was his second, an’ dat was all he +would look at. An’ ’less our young gal had blood an’ +money, he’d never ’sent to ’ceiving <i>her</i> inter de Bruce +famberly.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I’d risk it,” said Ann Whitlock, as she addressed herself +to the task of preparing a dainty supper for the guest +to tempt him to repeat his visits, if other inducements besides +Em. should be necessary.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Meanwhile, in the parlor, John Palmer engaged the visitor’s +attention exclusively, keeping him so busy in telling +sea stories that the young man was in peril of having to +draw upon his imagination, as well as upon his memory.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Ronald got no opportunity of speaking a single word in +confidence to Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Even when supper was announced and he drew the girl’s +arm within his own to take her to the table, the family +massed so closely that he could not even get a chance to +breathe a syllable in her ear on the way to the dining-room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>While the family were at supper Ann Whitlock busily +prepared the spare room upstairs for the accommodation +of their guest, saying to herself as she laid hickory logs +across the andirons to build a cheerful fire:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“<i>I</i> will make everything as pleasant as possible for him, +anyhow, so as to ’tice him to come often. And I’ll ’courage +’em to get married, too, no matter what nobody says. Once +<span class='pageno' id='Page_134'>134</span>they’re safe married nobody can’t unmarry ’em. That’s +so!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>After supper, when the family were regathered around +the parlor fire, the sea stories were resumed, and never had +a story-teller a more attentive and appreciative audience +than had Ronald Bruce in John Palmer and his household.</p> + +<p class='c009'>When the usual bedtime came, however, Susan Palmer +began to grow restless, and as soon as Mr. Bruce came to +the end of the tale he was then telling she got up and +lighted a candle and put it in the hand of her husband, +saying:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I reckon, John, as Mr. Bruce is about tired, and you’d +better show him to his room.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now I do reckon he can find it for himself!” said +John, laughing, as he passed the candle over to Ronald, +and added: “It’s the same room you occupied before, sir, +and you know the way to it.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Certainly,” replied the young man smilingly; and then +more gravely he added: “I came here, Mr. Palmer, especially +to seek a private interview with you on a matter +of very great importance to me, at least. Can you give me +a few moments alone before I leave here to-morrow morning?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Why, of course I can,” said John, staring with surprise +and curiosity.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Mr. Bruce then bowed good-night to the circle, raised +the hand of Em. to his lips and left the room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now I wonder what in the name o’ sense he’s got to +say to you, John? Do you know?” eagerly inquired Susan +Palmer as soon as their visitor had disappeared.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, something about crops, or stocks, or something! +You know his uncle wants him to give up the sea and attend +to agriculture, and he knows no more o’ that than I +do of navigation,” said John.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, I s’pose that’s it,” concluded Susan.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I never did see two such old goneys in my life!” muttered +Ann Whitlock to herself. “Between them both, +they’ll ruin that gal’s fortin, I know they will!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>But nothing more was said, as the family were even then +separating to retire.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_135'>135</span>As Em. went up to bid her father good-night she whispered +these enigmatical words into his ear:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, father, please, <i>please</i> don’t deny him!” And she +was gone before the startled and perplexed John could +gather his scattered senses and ask what she meant.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Early the next morning Ronald Bruce arose, dressed in +haste and hurried downstairs to seek the promised interview +with his host.</p> + +<p class='c009'>He found John in the parlor waiting for him.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Good-morning, Mr. Bruce! Fine, bright morning, sir, +though we had heavy frost last night. Hope you slept well, +sir,” said Palmer.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Thanks, yes, very well,” replied the young man, telling +an involuntary fib, for he had not slept a wink and had not +meant to say so.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I’ll just turn the key of this door, and we’ll be safe from +interruption,” said John, suiting the action to the word.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Then placing a chair for his guest and taking another +for himself, he sat down and said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now I am ready to hear all that you have got to say, +Lieutenant; but I warn you that I don’t know much more +about crops and stocks than you do yourself.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“‘Crops and stocks!’” echoed the young man in surprise.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes! Wasn’t that what you wished to consult me +upon?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Bless me, no!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“What was it, then?” inquired Palmer in surprise.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Young Bruce hesitated in some confusion. The fact that +the father-in-law-elect seemed so utterly unprepared to hear +the honor that was intended him, had the natural effect of +making the proposal doubly embarrassing to the suitor.</p> + +<p class='c009'>He paused for a few moments longer and then broke the +ice suddenly by saying:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Mr. Palmer, I love your daughter Emolyn, and I have +reason to know that she likes me. I came here to pray you +to make us both happy by consenting to our marriage.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>If I were to tell you that John’s hair stood on end, I +should not much exaggerate. His eyes fairly started from +his head as he stared at the speaker, and faltered forth:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now look a here, young gentleman, look a here! Quiet +<span class='pageno' id='Page_136'>136</span>yourself like and think a bit. You <i>can’t</i> know what you’re +a-talking about!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, I do!” impatiently replied the young man, giving +his dark head an irritable shake.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, then, maybe I didn’t understand you right,” said +John helplessly.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Then I will repeat what I said. I asked you if you +would do me the honor of giving me your daughter for a +wife,” repeated Ronald.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Dear me! Dear me! What a pity! I never thought +of such a thing! I am very sorry,” muttered John in a +meditative way.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Ronald Bruce sat watching and waiting until he lost +the last remnant of patience and broke forth with:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Mr. Palmer, do you understand my question <i>now</i>?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes—yes! Don’t get excited! I know what you said! +And I know, too, what my girl meant when she asked me +last night not to deny you! Lord help me! I feel awful +cut up about it!” sighed John, running his fingers through +his shock of “pepper and salt” hair.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The young officer looked somewhat fallen in his selfesteem +as he gazed upon the overseer, who evidently did +not feel the honor conferred upon him as he should have +done, and he inquired somewhat sulkily:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Why should you feel ‘cut up,’ as you call it, by my +proposal?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, because it is like you have been making love to my +child, and maybe getting her to be fond of you!” replied +John with a profound sigh that seemed to come from the +depth of his heart.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, that is just exactly what I have been doing—in +the hope of winning her for my wife, with your consent. +I come now to ask that consent; I only wait for that!” +said Ronald earnestly. “And I don’t see why you should +take the matter so very deeply to heart,” he added rather +sullenly.</p> + +<p class='c009'>John groaned and sighed, but answered nothing.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“May I hope for your consent to my proposal, Mr. Palmer?” +at length inquired the suitor.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, Mr. Bruce! It can’t be, and it oughtn’t to be! I +am hurt to the very bottom of my heart to have to say it, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_137'>137</span>but I must say it. No, Mr. Bruce, you can’t have Em. for +your wife!” said John Palmer firmly.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The young man turned pale with astonishment, mortification +and anger.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“May I ask you <i>why</i> you reject me? Have you any objection +to me personally?” he hotly demanded, as he arose +and stood before John.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“To you personally as you stand there, sir, I could have +no possible objection. You are a very well made young +man, sound in wind and limb, of steady habits and good +temper, though a little spirited. No, to you personally I +would have no objection. And if you were only a young +journeyman mechanic, or a young workman, I do not know +any man in the world to whom I would sooner give my girl +as a wife, or whom I would sooner welcome as a son-in-law; +because I like you, Lieutenant Bruce! And if it would not +sound queer from a man’s lips, I might almost say, I love +you! <i>That</i> is what makes it so awfully cutting to have +to refuse you! Oh, I wish you were a workman!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“So do I, since you seem to consider it an indispensable +condition; but if you approve of me as I am, why not +accept me as I am?” inquired the young man, now half +inclined to laugh and half to weep.</p> + +<p class='c009'>John shook his gray-black head in sorrowful silence.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I can’t help being an officer in the navy; but I can help +continuing to be so, and I will resign my commission and +take up farming if you will give me Em.! I’ll do it at +once, next week, to-day!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, and repent week after week, or even to-morrow! +No, it will not do, Mr. Bruce! You are a gentleman born +and not fit for Em. You can’t unmake yourself and make +yourself over again, and therefore you can never be fit for +Em. You must give up all thoughts of her at once and +forever! I say it, and by all my soul’s hopes I mean it, +young sir.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But, good Heaven! I can not and will not give her up! +To do so would be the ruin of our lives’ happiness!” exclaimed +Ronald.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Nonsense, young gentleman. To <i>marry</i> would be the +ruin of your lives! Listen to me, sir. You and Em. are +both too young to know yourselves, or to know life. Of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_138'>138</span>course, you think now that if you could marry you would +be perfectly happy. And so you might be for a few short +weeks, while the novelty lasted. But you are a gentleman—she +a poor man’s child. You have been differently brought +up; these differences would crop out in course of time. +You might repent of your marriage, think you could have +done so much better if you could have married a lady of +your own class, and so on——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Believe me, sir——” began the suitor.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Stop! hear me out,” said the father. “You might even +come to despise my child, and to make her feel that she was +despised. That would break her heart, and then—why, I +might break your head!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Ronald Bruce sprang to his feet and began to stride up +and down the room in a sort of frenzy.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“What in the deuce do you take me for, Mr. Palmer,” +he indignantly exclaimed, “that you should think me capable +of such baseness! Or what do you take your daughter +for, that you should deem it even possible that any man +should ever ‘despise’ her! If you were not her father, I +would not stand quietly to hear her maiden dignity so +affronted!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You’re not standing so very quietly just at the present +speaking, young gentleman, unless tearing up and down +the room like a madman means your idea of standing +quietly! Come, Mr. Bruce! Come, Mr. Bruce! You have +no better friend on earth than I am. And the very friendliest +thing I could do for you would be to put my foot down +on the notion of you marrying my daughter. And what’s +more, no girl ever had a lovinger father than Em. has in +me, and the kindest thing I can do for her is to prevent +her from becoming your wife.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I swear by all my hopes of salvation that I will make +Emolyn Palmer my wife in the face of all the world and +in defiance of all opposition!” exclaimed the young man, +so transported with fury that he lost all self-command and +sense of propriety.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now I wonder why I don’t lift him by the scruff of his +neck and the slack of his pants and pitch him out of the +window?” thought John Palmer to himself. “Why? Because, +with all his impudence, he loves my Em., poor fellow, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_139'>139</span>almost as hard as I did her mother, and I am sorry +for him. So I’ll be gentle with him.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You have no right,” broke forth the young man once +more, as he strode up and down the floor—“you have no +right—no one has any right to separate two young people +who love each other as I and Emolyn do! No right to ruin +both our lives for the sake of gratifying your own particular +whims of pride or prudence! I told my uncle and my +mother so yesterday, and I tell you so to-day.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Whe-ew!” exclaimed John. “So you mean to marry +my daughter whether I will or not?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I will marry my Emolyn in defiance of all insane opposition!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Very well. We’ll see. Please sit down here. I am +going to send for Emolyn,” said John Palmer.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Ronald Bruce threw himself into the chair and waited.</p> + +<p class='c009'>John Palmer went to the window, tapped upon it and +called one of the boys who was chopping wood in the yard +and who immediately approached.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ned, tell your sister Em. to come in here. I want to +speak to her,” said the father.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The boy ran off to do his errand.</p> + +<p class='c009'>John Palmer unlocked the door and set it open.</p> + +<p class='c009'>In a few moments Em. entered the room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She looked very much flushed and embarrassed, and her +color came and went as she glanced from her lover to her +father. She seemed to feel that her fate was being weighed +in the balance of the moment, and that a second might decide +it for weal or woe.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Good-morning, father. Good-morning, Mr. Bruce,” she +faltered in low tones, compelling herself to this act of +politeness, although her very heart seemed fainting within +her for fear.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Ronald Bruce bowed low to her salutation, while John +Palmer held out his hand and said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Come here, my girl, I have something to say to you.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. went to him.</p> + +<p class='c009'>He encircled her with one arm and drew her close to his +side while he said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Em., my child, this good young gentleman here has +<span class='pageno' id='Page_140'>140</span>done us the honor to ask me for you as his wife—as most +likely you know.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. gave a quick, short nod and caught her breath.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You did know, of course. Well, my daughter, there +is no young man in the world that I like better than him—just +as there is no young woman in the world that I love +better than you. So, having the lasting happiness of both +in view, I must decline this marriage for you, my Em.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“<i>Oh, father!</i>” she breathed almost under her breath.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“His friends would never consent to receive my child as +a relative, Em. I would never consent for you to enter +any family who would not be as <i>proud</i> to receive you as I +should be to give you. Besides this, unequal marriages +never end well. Where a gentleman marries a poor girl, +however much he may seem to have loved her at first, he +grows tired of her, perhaps ashamed of her, and ceases to +love her, maybe begins to hate her——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, father! father!” moaned the girl in a low tone of +anguish.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Mr. Palmer, you must not say these things to your +daughter! They are cruel, unmanly, and what is more, +untrue, as far as I am concerned,” hotly interposed Ronald +Bruce.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“They are hard and bitter words, I know, young people,” +said John Palmer, keeping his temper. “But bitters are +tonics to cure weakness. Now, my Em., to <i>you</i> I speak. +You are my child. This young gentleman here declares +that he will marry you in defiance of his relations and +yours, and all the world and the rest of mankind, as the late +General Taylor used to say. The question, then, is this, +my child: whether you will marry him without my consent +and against my wishes? Answer, Em.!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Emolyn, pause! Do not commit yourself hastily by +a promise that will drive me mad and make yourself miserable!” +impetuously exclaimed the lover. “Take time to +consider, Emolyn! Tell your father that you must have +time!” he earnestly pleaded.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. raised her head. Her face was pale, and her eyes +were full of tears; but she answered firmly:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ronald, you know my heart; I must not take time to +consider whether I shall obey my dear father or not. I +<span class='pageno' id='Page_141'>141</span>must not marry without his consent—I will not, dear +father! Ronald, listen and be sure of this—if it should +ever be right that we should marry, my dear father will +consent; for he has nothing except our welfare in view. +But do not mistake me, be sure of this also, that I will +never marry without his consent,” Em. added, and covered +her face with her hands to conceal the tears that were ready +to stream from her eyes.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“There, young gentleman, you have your answer from +her as well as from me. She will not marry without my +consent. If it should ever happen to be proper for you to +marry I will give my consent. As that is not at all likely +to occur, why, you had better not hope for it. And let me +repeat, in this I have nothing but your happiness and hers +at heart,” said John in earnest kindliness.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Ronald Bruce stamped viciously, exclaiming:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“If there is anything in the world I detest, it is to suffer +a grievous wrong and to be told that it is intended as a +benefit.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, I know,” said John. “Children always rebel ag’in +the physic that is to cure ’em, or the whipping that is to +reform ’em, although we always tell ’em it’s for their good. +But ‘sich is life.’”</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XVII<br> <span class='c006'>THE RESCUE</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c007'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>She took the fruits of my advice;—</div> + <div class='line'>And he, repulsed—a short tale to make—</div> + <div class='line'>Fell into a sadness, thence into a fast,</div> + <div class='line'>Thence to a watch, thence into a weakness.</div> + <div class='line in32'><span class='sc'>Shakespeare.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c008'>“Mammy says, how if you don’t come in to breakfast +it will all be sp’ilt,” were the prosaic words that cut short +this trying interview, as little Molly put her smoothly-brushed +black head into the door.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Run and tell mammy we will be there immediately,” +said John.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_142'>142</span>The little lass sped away on her errand.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Come, sir! Come!” exclaimed John cheerfully. “Our +boys were out among the partridges on Saturday afternoon +and bagged a rare lot of fat ones. The mother has dressed +them for breakfast, and we mustn’t let them spoil by waiting! +Come, Em., little woman, cheer up! Nobody’s dead +and nobody’s dying!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Now it was the first impulse of Ronald Bruce to decline +John Palmer’s further entertainment, and to hurry away +without waiting for breakfast, but a glance from Em.’s imploring +eyes restrained him, and he sulkily followed John +and herself to the dining-room, where Susan, with the +brightest smiles, bade him good-morning.</p> + +<p class='c009'>As they seated themselves at the table Em. purposely took +a chair with her back to the window so that her troubled +face might be thrown into shadow and escape the notice +of her mother.</p> + +<p class='c009'>But if Susan Palmer failed to observe the tearful eyes +of her daughter, she did not neglect to watch her guest +and to see how he slighted her delicious broiled partridges +and cream rolls.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am afraid you are not as hearty as usual this morning, +Mr. Bruce!” she said at length.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, quite so, thanks! But this is rather earlier than +I am accustomed to take breakfast,” said the young man +ingeniously.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Susan had the good sense to seem satisfied with the explanation; +but she remembered all the while that the early +breakfast hour had not prevented Mr. Bruce from making +a valiant onslaught upon the edibles on the occasion of his +last visit.</p> + +<p class='c009'>As soon as breakfast was over Ronald prepared to take +leave of the family.</p> + +<p class='c009'>His horse was brought around to the door by ’Sias.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now I hope you will come to see us just as often as you +can conveniently, Mr. Bruce! Why, a visit from you, with +your sea stories, is as good as a voyage round the world to +John and the boys, penned up as they are in this here wally +with a wall of mountains round them! Come often, sir! +And la! why, if breakfast at seven o’clock in the morning +is too airly for you, we might have it at eight or nine, or +<span class='pageno' id='Page_143'>143</span>any time,” said Susan Palmer cordially, as Ronald Bruce +took leave of her.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Thanks, very much; I shall remember your kindness,” +returned the young man, without committing himself by +a promise.</p> + +<p class='c009'>He took a light and cheerful leave of the younger members +of the family, and then went to the window where Em. +stood looking out.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She turned as he joined her.</p> + +<p class='c009'>He took her hand and said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I do not know when I shall be permitted to see you +again, my dear and only love; but be sure of this—I will +never give you up, Em.! Never, as I hope for heaven! +God bless you, my darling!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>And so saying, he pressed her hand and turned away.</p> + +<p class='c009'>John Palmer went out with him.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am sorry, sir, that I cannot join in my wife’s invitation +to you. But under the circumstances I think you and +Em. had better not see each other again. I am grieved +to the soul, I am, about all this. And—see here! I cannot +let you go in this way! I’ll tell you what, now, listen! +If you will agree not to see, or to speak to, or write to Em., +or to hold any sort of communication with her, for the +space of one year from to-day, and if at the end of that +time you and Em. retain your partiality for one another, +and you come to me with the written consent of your lady +mother and your gentleman uncle, why, then I will take +back all my objections to the match! There, now! I can +say no more than that. What do <i>you</i> say?” demanded John +in a frank, hearty, almost joyous manner.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The countenance of the young man was not, however, +gratefully responsive.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I ask no concessions of you, Mr. Palmer, because I can +make no promises. I <i>must</i> have Em. for my wife if I can, +and as <i>soon</i> as I can. Her happiness, as well as my own, +depends upon it!” he answered, as he placed his foot in the +stirrup and threw himself into the saddle.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Very well! Then my hope is in Em. She is a dutiful +daughter, and she will obey me,” concluded John Palmer, +as he waved his departing guest adieu and returned into +the house.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_144'>144</span>He looked around for Em.; but the girl was nowhere to +be seen. He inquired for her and was told that she had +gone upstairs to make the beds.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And I would just like to know,” said his wife, who had +been his informant, “what they have been doing to Em. up +there at the commodore’s to make her look so ill. I take my +oath she does not look like the same child. I just think +I’ll march myself up to the grand house and ask them what +is the meaning of it all!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Come here, my good woman. I’ll tell you all about +it, and then we must drop the subject forever and a day +and try to employ and amuse Em. and make her forget it,” +said John, as he beckoned Susan to follow him into the +parlor, where they would be more secure from interruption.</p> + +<p class='c009'>There John shut the door, put his wife into the big arm-chair, +and taking another for himself, sat down before her +and told her the whole story of Ronald Bruce and Emolyn +Palmer’s love.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Susan listened in breathless astonishment.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“To think of such a thing! It never once entered my +head!” she exclaimed. “And Em. nothing but a child, +hardly out of her short frocks and pantalettes! And he, +you might say, almost a middle-aged man by comparison! +And quite belonging to another world! But, oh, my poor +girl!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, my dear, I considered the best thing to do in such +a case was to put my foot right down on it, and that I did. +Though if I had thought as he’d a-made her happy in the +long run I’d a-given my consent; but I knew he’d soon repent +sich an unequal marriage, and that would break my +girl’s heart, and so down I put my foot upon the whole +thing! And now, Susan, we must never allude to what’s +past, but try to comfort and cheer the child up.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Mrs. Palmer agreed to that, and then they left the parlor +and set about their several duties.</p> + +<p class='c009'>As for Em., she went hard to work—her panacea for +all mental troubles. They all heard her singing as she +shook up beds and swept floors.</p> + +<p class='c009'>But when all the work was done, then came the reaction +of artificial excitement—the life weariness, the heavy-heartedness, +that she could not shake off.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_145'>145</span>So many industrious hands about that house left so little +to do!</p> + +<p class='c009'><i>Her</i> hands could now find nothing.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She thought she would walk down to the pier and take +the little boat and make a visit to the island. She had not +been to Edengarden for some weeks past; and this golden +October day tempted her to the excursion.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She went to find Susan and said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Mother, I am going out for an hour or two, if you would +not mind.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, of course not, child. But where are you going, +Em.?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“To Edengarden, mother. I have not been there for so +long a time.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Very well, Em.; but, oh, my dear, don’t attempt to row +the boat yourself! I know you <i>can</i> do it; but still for this +once take old ’Sias with you! Will you?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, mother, if you wish me to do so; but you know, +dear, there is no danger. I can use an oar as well as I can +a broom. And for the rest, you know what the country +people about here say—that it requires a great deal of perseverance +and presence of mind to drown one’s self in the +‘Placide.’”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, I know, Em.! But still, for this once, take old +’Sias with you.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I will do so, mother,” replied the girl as she turned +away.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. quickly wrapped herself in her black and white-checkered +shawl, and put on her gray felt hat and left the +house.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She walked briskly down the leaf-strewn road that led +through the thicket to the gate-house.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Here she found old ’Sias sitting on the step before the +closed front door, smoking a stumpy clay pipe and basking +in the golden sunshine of the autumn morning.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, Uncle ’Sias, I am so glad to see you at leisure. +Will you row me to Edengarden this morning?” she inquired, +pausing before the old man.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Miss Em.! Well, I ’clare to my goodness! De sight +ob you down here axing me to go wid you a-rowing is good +for to cure blindness!” exclaimed old ’Sias, taking the pipe +<span class='pageno' id='Page_146'>146</span>from his mouth and rising to his feet. “Why, you hasn’t +been here—less see—not since las’ Augus’, I do believe. +Yes, honey, to be sure I’ll take you a-rowing, and glad to do +it, too,” he continued, as he emptied his pipe and put it +into his pocket, and walked on beside Em. out of the gate +and through the forest road leading to the river.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You are quite at leisure to go with me, Uncle ’Sias, I +hope?” said the girl considerately.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, la! yes, honey! I hadn’t nuffin ’t all to do, and +what’s more, I hadn’t no place to go to. You see dat dere +shet-up door, didn’t you, honey?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, of course,” said Em., wondering to what that led.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, chile, dat shet-up door was bolted on the inside,” +said ’Sias mysteriously.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Why, how was that?” inquired Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Sereny been performing, honey! Sereny been performing, +chile! Thanks be to goodness, Miss Em., dere ain’t +much ha’r left on my head for her to twist her fingers in +now! Lord, if Miss Abishey performed on King David like +Sereny do on me, no wonder he wrote so many sollum sams! +She’s been performing, honey, and arter she’d done performing +she kicked me out and clapped the door to and +bolted it! Dere, dat’s what Sereny did, and I feel as if I +could write a sollum sam myself!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It is really too bad!” cried Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now ain’t it, dough, honey? And de most aggravokingest +part if it is to think as I’m her lawful lord and marster, +as she swore beore de holy altar to lub, honor and obey! +But law! what’s de use o’ talking? De wimmen don’t +’member dem wows no longer’n dey get out’n de church! +Leastways, I know Sereny didn’t! Purty way she lub me +to pull all de ha’r out’n my head! Purty way she honor +me to kick me out’n de house and slam de door and bolt it +on me. And I her lord and marster! But you see, chile, +dough I is her s’preme ruler, she’s de strongest ob de two, +and dat’s de way she gets de better ob me! Now, I tell +you what, Miss Em., if it should please de Lord to take +Sereny, I think as I should be ’signed to His holy will, and +I never would get another young wife to keep me warm in +my ole age, ’cording to King David nor no other king! So +dere, now! ’Cause de way dey hab o’ keepin’ you warm is +<span class='pageno' id='Page_147'>147</span>by pummeling and scalpin’ of you, and I don’t like it! So +no young cullered gal needn’t be coming arter me if ebber +I’m a widderer ag’n! ’Deed and ’deed needn’t dey!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>They had by this time reached the water’s edge, where the +little boat lay moored and rocking.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Shall I put up de sail, Miss Em.? But dere ain’t a +breaf ob breeze, neider!” said ’Sias as he began to unmoor.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, no! We will row. You take the oars, I the tiller, +and we shall skim the water like a bird,” said Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“So we will, Miss Em., and won’t that be sociable?” +cried old ’Sias gleefully as he threw the chain ashore and +took up the oars and placed them in their rests.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. nodded, entered the boat, seated herself, took the +tiller and steered for the island.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Old ’Sias laid himself sturdily to the oars, and the little +boat sped on its way down the river.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, how glorious this is in autumn!” exclaimed the +girl, as, forgetting all her troubles in the moment, she gazed +with enthusiastic delight on the magnificent scene before +her.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The mighty river, rolling on in calm strength to the sea; +the lofty precipices on the left, with their gray rocks dappled +with clumps of evergreen trees and parterres of variegated +moss, and brightened by springs and fountains of +sparkling water dancing down their sides and losing themselves +in the river; the undulating, wooded hills on the +right, now changing into all the most brilliant colors of the +autumn foliage—crimson, orange, purple, golden, scarlet—all +blended and contrasted on the shore, and reflected in +the shining river; the distant island, midway between the +banks, resting on the bosom of the river and looking in the +autumn dress of its groves like an immense bouquet of +gorgeous exotics.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. sat and absorbed the beauty and glory of the scene +into her soul, and never spoke again until they had reached +the landing at Edengarden.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now, Miss Em., my honey, if you don’t mind walking +up to de house by yourself, I think I’ll jes’ set here in de +boat and smoke my pipe and think o’ King David and +Abishey till you come back,” said old ’Sias as he steadied +the boat to let his passenger step out.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_148'>148</span>“Very well, Uncle ’Sias, I will not keep you long.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Never mind ’bout de ‘long,’ honey. I could stay here +all day, willin’! It’s so quiet like here, and clean out’n de +reach o’ Sereny,” replied the old man as he settled himself +in his seat and took out his pipe and began to fill it.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. walked on through the belt of silver maples that had +now turned in their autumn tints so that they formed a +golden girdle around the shores of the beautiful island.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Passing through and out of them she walked up the ornate +terraces where the clumps of trees in their fall dress +of crimson, orange, and purple, looked like gigantic posies, +and the parterres of flowers were rich in late roses, dahlias, +chrysanthemums, and other autumn blooms.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Up, past arbors, statues, and fountains, to the white, +colonnaded piazza that surrounded the white palace.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“This might be the ‘Island of Calm Delights,’ and the +fairy palace of the Princess Blandina, for its beauty and +its solitude,” said Em. to herself as she went up the marble +steps that led to the main entrance.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She had intended to walk around the piazza to the rear +of the house to get the key from the solitary housekeeper; +but as soon as she stepped upon the porch she saw that the +front door was open.</p> + +<p class='c009'>It was not an unusual circumstance—Em. had twice, on +former visits, found the door open when other sightseers +happened to be present.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Therefore, without the least surprise or hesitation, she +entered the beautiful hall and passed directly to the saloon, +where that wondrous portrait of the “White Spirit” hung, +which had, for her, so powerful a fascination.</p> + +<p class='c009'>To her slight surprise now she saw no one present. The +room was vacant. She went and opened one of the windows +to throw a better light upon the lovely portrait, and then +she turned and stood before it.</p> + +<p class='c009'>How perfectly proportioned was the slender, elegant +form! How stately and graceful the attitude! How soft +and flowing the drapery! How fair and delicate, how refined +and spirituelle the lovely face, seen through the misty +tissue of the falling veil, which seemed so real that Em. +felt tempted to lift her hand and draw it aside that she +might get a clearer view of the beautiful vision.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_149'>149</span>As she gazed a new light broke upon her.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Why, this is a bridal dress!” she said to herself. +“Strange it never struck me so before, but I suppose it was +because I had heard the lady always appeared veiled. But +here she must have been painted in her bridal dress, for that +is certainly a bridal veil.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, she was painted in her bridal dress,” murmured a +voice, soft, sweet and low as the notes of an eolian harp.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. started and turned around, to be transfixed by a +pair of soft, deep, dark-blue eyes, whose gaze held hers +spellbound.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The “White Spirit” stood before her.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XVIII<br> <span class='c006'>THE LADY OF EDENGARDEN</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c007'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>And scenes long past of joy and pain</div> + <div class='line'>Come wildering through her wondering brain.</div> + <div class='line in40'><span class='sc'>Scott.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c008'>Yes! There, holding the girl’s eyes spellbound by her +mesmeric gaze, stood the Wonder of the Wilderness, the +mysterious being known as the “White Spirit,” yet not in +the traditional white robe and veil.</p> + +<p class='c009'>No! The Lady of Edengarden was attired as any other +conventional gentlewoman of the period with artistic tastes +might have been.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She wore a long flowing soft gray silk dress, with fine +white lace about the throat and wrists, and with a knot +of light-blue ribbon mixed with lace on her bosom, and +another of the same materials among the braids of her +sunny golden-brown hair.</p> + +<p class='c009'>But the face, with its delicate patrician features, its fair +transparent complexion, and its soft, dreamy, dark-blue +eyes, was the very same.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I—I beg your pardon, madam,” stammered Em. with +an effort to recover herself.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“My child!—<i>Who are you?</i>” interrupted the lady, taking +<span class='pageno' id='Page_150'>150</span>her hand and turning her around to face the full light of +the window.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am the daughter of John Palmer, the overseer at +the Wilderness Manor, madam, Emolyn Palmer, and I +thought——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Em—olyn—Palm—er,” slowly repeated the lady, again +interrupting the girl and gazing steadily on her face.</p> + +<p class='c009'>To escape this searching gaze into her soul Em. first +lowered her eyes and then raised them.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Between the two front windows near which they stood +hung a long pier glass. Em. caught a full view of the lady +and herself as they stood together, reflected in the mirror, +and started at the marvelous likeness revealed—in all except +dress the two seemed almost duplicates. In the two +faces there was scarcely even the perceptible difference that +age should have made.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Emolyn Palmer!” slowly repeated the lady. “Yes, yes, +to be sure, I know! Emolyn Palmer. Come here, my +dear, and sit down.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>And the lady led Em. to a <i>tête-à-tête</i> sofa, placed her in +one corner, and took the other herself.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I wish to beg your pardon, madam. I am very sorry—I +did not know you were here—or I should not have presumed +to intrude,” faltered Em. in painful embarrassment.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The lady did not answer, only continued to look at her +thoughtfully, kindly.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I—I had understood that you were so good as to let +the neighbors come in and look at your beautiful pictures +and statues when you were away from home, and so I used +to come very often last summer, though I was always in a +dread for fear I should happen to come while you were +here.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>The lady smiled on the young speaker, but made no +answer.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And now I have done what I had feared to do, and +intruded on your privacy, madam. I am sorry, and I hope +you will forgive me,” continued Em., half ashamed of +having to say so much before receiving an answer, yet reassured +by the lady’s sweet, silent smile.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You have done nothing that requires excuse, my child. +You could have had no reason to suspect that I was present. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_151'>151</span>I have never been here in the autumn before. I always +came the first of May and went the last of September. +Only this summer I went to Canada instead, and then came +here on the first of October to spend the autumn. So you +see you are blameless. Besides, Edengarden, with its house +and grounds, is open to the neighbors at all seasons. Even +when I am here only my private suite of rooms is reserved. +They are at the top of the building; so you might have +roamed all over the house if you had wished to do so without +the fear of intrusion. And now let us talk of yourself, +little one. Your name is Emolyn Palmer,” said the lady, +taking the girl’s slender white hand in her own.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, madam; but everybody calls me Em.,” shyly answered +the girl.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Do not be afraid of me, my child! This is not the +first time we have met.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. started and gazed at the speaker in surprise.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, my child, not the first time we have met. I held +you in my arms and blessed you when you were a babe of +only a few weeks old,” continued the Lady of Edengarden.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em.’s startled gaze of surprise softened as she lowered +her eyes and reflected that this might easily have been the +case, as her mother had many customers among fine ladies, +whose little girls used to notice her babies.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Do you know for whom you were named, Emolyn?” +gently inquired the lady.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, yes, madam. I was named for Miss Emolyn Wyndeworth, +a saint, an angel; but she has been in heaven these +many years.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“How do you know that?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“My mother has told me so all my life.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Your mother cherishes her memory, then?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, yes, yes, and speaks of her as pious Catholics speak +of their patron saints.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Tell me of your mother, my child. I used to know +her very long ago, when I lived in the world. Does she +enjoy good health, and is she much more prosperous and +much happier now at the Wilderness manor-house than she +used to be in Laundry Lane?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“To think you should know anything about Laundry +Lane, dear lady! Why, even to me it seems like a place +<span class='pageno' id='Page_152'>152</span>in a past existence, that I had died in and risen out of,” +murmured Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And yet it is scarcely six months since you left it, while +it has been over sixteen years since I saw it. But about +your mother, Emolyn.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, mother, too, is just as if she had died in Laundry +Lane and risen to Paradise! She is just as healthy and +hearty and happy as any human being can be. And she +looks younger now than I ever saw her look. And so does +father. Did you ever know father, madam?” cheerfully +inquired Em., who was growing more and more at ease in +the presence of the lady.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, I knew your father, too, my child,” breathed the +latter in a low tone.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, father looks younger, too. He is not sallow now, +and he doesn’t stoop. He’s ruddy as a red apple and +straight as an arrow. And they are all as well and as happy +as they can be at the Wilderness Manor. They have everything +that heart can wish. Without being wealthy, they +have all the enjoyments of wealth. And it is like Paradise +after the purgatory of Laundry Lane.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I thank the Lord that one family, at least, is made +happy,” breathed the lady in low and earnest tones.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And we owe all that happiness to you, dear madam; +for although they have never seen you, yet of course we +know that you are our Lady of the Manor, Mrs. Lindsay,” +said Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“‘Lindsay?’ ‘Mrs. Lindsay!’” repeated the lady in a +tone of surprise.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, Lindsay—is not that your name?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No; but it does not matter. Tell me more of your +mother. Has she any other children, younger than yourself, +I mean?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, yes, ma’am, as many younger as there are older. +The four elder ones are all married and settled in the city +where we came from, and we hear from them about once a +month. They are all doing well. And the four younger +ones are—in Paradise with us. And now, dear lady, may I +ask you a question?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, certainly. Have I not asked you many?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, then, was it because you knew my dear father and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_153'>153</span>mother that you caused your agent to engage them to take +charge of the old manor?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>The lady hesitated for a moment, and then replied:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, though at the time I did not care to be known in +the transaction, and so acted only through my agent, Carmichael, +and my friend Mrs. Willet.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh! you knew Mrs. Willet, too! How many people +and places you knew that we knew!” exclaimed Em. in glad +surprise, losing all the shyness she had first felt in the +presence of the strange lady.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, a good many. And in this very transaction I +found a coadjutor in a friend of yours, whom, however, +I did not know.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“A friend of ours?” said Em. thoughtfully.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes; Lieutenant Ronald—Bruce,” said the lady, hesitating +and then pronouncing the last word in a low tone +and with a falling inflection.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh!” breathed Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It appears that he had some time before appealed to +the Willets to throw anything they could find to suit him +in the way of John Palmer and his family. So, when the +proposal came from my agent, John Palmer and his wife +would have got the first offer upon Mr. Bruce’s standing +recommendation, even if his name had not been mentioned +in my private instructions.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Then it is to you that we owe all our happiness! Oh! +how grateful we should be, and <i>are</i>, madam, for we know +that we enjoy many privileges not usually accorded to overseers +and their families,” said Em., raising the lady’s hand +to her lips.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It was my happiness to make you happy,” replied the +latter in a low tone.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh! how glad my mother will be to know that it is to +a former friend she owes her present prosperity. But, dear +lady, you say your name is not that which the country +people have given you. Will you tell me what it is, so +that I may rejoice my mother’s heart with the knowledge, +that we may know whom to name when we invoke blessings +on our benefactress?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Perhaps, my child. My name has never transpired in +this neighborhood. None know it but the people of the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_154'>154</span>legal profession who are my agents. The country folks here +have given me more than one name—Lynn, Lindsay, and +so forth—all being somewhat akin to my own name, to +which they may have got some slight clew. But never mind +about my name for the present; I wish to speak of yours. +Have you any middle name?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, yes, madam. I am Emolyn Wyndeworth Palmer. +That is a very fine name for a poor girl; but mother wished +to give me the whole of her <i>angel’s</i> name, she said, and so +she had me baptized Emolyn Wyndeworth.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And you say that she for whom you were named died +many years ago?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, madam, so many years ago that it was before my +recollection. Oh, I often wish that I could have seen her +once, only once, to have her image in my mind.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“How came she to die so young, my child?” inquired +the lady in a low tone.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I do not know, madam; but mother says she was a +martyr; that she had suffered a grevious wrong that broke +her heart; but who had wronged her, or how she was +wronged, mother never would tell—only she said there were +some wrongs too great, and some sorrows too deep to be +spoken of in this world.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” murmured the Lady of Edengarden +in a low voice.</p> + +<p class='c009'>And then silence fell upon the two and lasted some +minutes.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Finally Em. rose to take leave.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You are going?” said the lady.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, madam. I have only time to get home before dark. +If I should be out later my mother would fear something +ill would happen to me. I am very grateful, dear lady, for +your kindness to me to-day, as well as for your great goodness +to our whole family. I wish you good-evening,” said +Em., lifting the lady’s hand to her lips and then turning +to depart.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Stop,” said the Lady of Edengarden.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. obeyed, and stood waiting.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You wish to tell your mother the name of her unknown +friend?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, yes, madam—if you please,” eagerly exclaimed Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_155'>155</span>“Tell her, then, that I am one whom she used to know +and love as Emolyn Wyndeworth.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. uttered a half-suppressed cry, reeled, and might +have fallen, but that the lady sprang and caught her, supported +her to the sofa, and sat her down in the corner, +where she leaned back deathly pale and faint.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“My child, I am very sorry for this; but I could not +have supposed that my announcement would have startled +you so much,” said the lady as she applied a small vinaigrette +to the nose of the girl.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, is it possible—can it be possible?” murmured Em. +to herself. Then with an effort she sat up and said: “Forgive +me, madam; but it is indeed as if one had returned +from heaven to earth. It is not a dream? You are——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am Emolyn Wyndeworth, my dear, and more convinced +than ever of the fond and faithful remembrance in +which I have been held since the mere announcement of +my name and presence has produced such a effect upon you, +who had no personal recollection of me,” said the lady in +a soothing tone as she passed her hand caressingly over the +girl’s bright ringlets.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ah, how happy I shall be when—when I can realize all +this; but now—now I am afraid of waking! Oh, I am, +indeed, madam!” added Em. with a nervous little laugh.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The lady dropped her hand and left the room for a few +moments, and then returned, bringing a glass of wine +which she made Em. drink.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You are almost hysterical over this surprise, my dear,” +she said as she placed the empty glass on the table.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I was never so before. I should not have been so under +any other surprise—but—to see one whom I had always +been taught to reverence as a patron saint, or a guardian +angel, standing bodily before me—oh! you know, madam, +it seemed as if—<i>almost</i> as if a seraph had descended from +heaven! Oh, how delighted, how past all delight my dear +mother will be! And father, too! And Mrs. Whitlock! +And Aunt Monica! Poor old Aunt Monica! Oh, I know, +you used to know her! And, oh! <i>how</i> dearly she loved you! +How fondly she talks of you to this day! Oh! what a +jubilee there’ll be when I go home with my news—if I don’t +<span class='pageno' id='Page_156'>156</span>wake up first and find it all a wild dream!” exclaimed Em., +much revived by the wine she had tasted.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“My impetuous child, how you run on! Uttering names +that seemed to have been once as familiar as ‘household +words’ to me, in that long past existence out of which I +have died and risen! ‘Whitlock!’ ‘Monica!’ One was my +dear old guardian’s housekeeper, and the other his nurse in +his last fatal illness! But what can you know of them?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Why, they <i>live</i> with us—Mrs. Whitlock ever since I +can remember, and old Aunt Monica ever since we moved +out here. Father takes care of them both. And they both +love you and mourn you, dear lady! And, <i>oh!</i> how enraptured +they will be, past all expression, when they find out +that—that—you still live in this world and they may look +on your face again!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Is it possible they are so near me? Old Aunt Monica, +I shall be happy to see again. But for Mrs. Whitlock, I +scarcely remember her, except as my guardian’s attendant. +It seems strange that she should remember me at all. She +saw so little of me.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, dear lady, you were so good, believe me, many, +many poor people remember you whom you most likely +have forgotten.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now may Heaven forbid!” breathed the Lady of Edengarden +in a low, earnest tone. Then, speaking to Em., she +said: “My child, you must not flatter <i>any</i> one, and least +of all <i>me</i>.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But, dearest madam, I do not know <i>how</i> to flatter! I +speak only the very truth,” said Em. with a certain childish +dignity.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Truth sometimes flatters. Do not praise me, little girl. +I do not deserve it, and—I cannot bear it. I wish to be +<i>forgiven</i>, not praised. To be <i>forgotten</i>, not remembered—except +by the very few who love me. I have talked to <i>you</i>, +young namesake, longer than I have talked with any one +these fifteen years past. My heart seems strangely and tenderly +drawn towards you, little girl. Perhaps it is because +you are the child of one who was my most steadfast friend +in a time of terrible trial. Perhaps, also, it is because you +were named for me, and I held you in my arms and blessed +you, when I myself had ‘most need of blessing.’ But all +<span class='pageno' id='Page_157'>157</span>that would hardly explain the yearning of my soul towards +you, my child! my child!” said the lady as she took the +hand of the young girl and drew her to her bosom.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh! May I tell you something? May I tell you something?” +muttered Em. in tones half smothered with emotion +as she leaned on the bosom of the lady, held there in +a close embrace.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Tell me anything you please, my child.”</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XIX<br> <span class='c006'>THE GOOD FAIRY</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c007'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>Better to hope, though the clouds hang low,</div> + <div class='line in2'>And to keep the eyes still lifted,</div> + <div class='line'>For the sweet blue sky will soon peep through,</div> + <div class='line in2'>When the ominous clouds are drifted.</div> + <div class='line'>There never was a night without a day,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Nor an evening without a morning;</div> + <div class='line'>And the darkest hour, the proverbs say,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Is just before the dawning.</div> + <div class='line in26'><span class='sc'>Baldwin’s Monthly.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c008'>“Well, the first time I ever saw your portrait—that one +hanging there in the bridal dress and veil—I loved it. Oh! +I loved it so I could have sat all day and gazed upon it! +And every time I have come back to the island it was not +to see any of the beautiful objects, it was to spend all the +time I had to spare in sitting before your portrait and gazing +on it. And now I have <i>you</i>!” concluded the girl with a +convulsive clasp of the lady’s form.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, now you have me,” replied the latter, once more +reseating Em. on the sofa and sitting down beside her. +“Now you have me. Therefore I feel the less hesitation +about disabusing your mind about that picture. It is not +my portrait, though very like me. It is my mother’s portrait, +taken in her bridal costume.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“What! that picture the image of you, dear madam, and +yet not you! But it is beautiful! Beautiful, for all that,” +<span class='pageno' id='Page_158'>158</span>exclaimed Em., gazing from the face of the lady to that of +the picture.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“My mother was a most beautiful woman,” murmured +the lady.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And the portrait which hangs in the long drawing-room +of the old Wilderness manor-house—the portrait of a lady +in the costume of the time of Queen Elizabeth—whose face +so much resembles yours and your mother’s?” said Em. +interrogatively.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, the portrait of a remote ancestress, <i>so</i> remote that +even tradition has little to say about her, except that Sir +Walter Raleigh wrote sonnets in praise of her beauty.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“That beauty has been faithfully handed down,” said +Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“The resemblance has, at any rate. But, my child, who +told you that the picture there was my portrait?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh! Several persons, I think; but the first person who +said so was old ’Sias, the gate-porter at the Wilderness +Manor.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ah! I know—a little shriveled old man who refers +everything back to the time when he was a boy, several +hundred years ago, ‘more or less?’”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes,” laughed Em., “the very same.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“What other marvels did he tell you about me? I +would like to know. I have never seen the old creature, nor +any one else belonging to the old Wilderness estate, although +I am their lady; but I have heard about them +through my agent, and I am aware that many strange reports +are afloat respecting myself, merely because I appear +here only a few months in the year, and then live a strictly +secluded life. Come! What have you heard respecting +your namesake, Emolyn?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, dear lady, many absurd rumors, that I now perceive +must have been false. That you were a semi-supernatural +being—a ‘White Spirit’; that your form was seldom visible, +but when seen it was clothed from head to foot in long, +white robes; that your face was never seen by any one, for +it was always hidden beneath a white veil that flowed over +your whole figure.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I could laugh, Emolyn, were not my laughing days past. +White, indeed, is my usual dress when here in summer. It +<span class='pageno' id='Page_159'>159</span>is the most convenient and comfortable wearing apparel. +Often, too, when walking about the grounds of my isolated +island home I have thrown over my head, instead of hat +or bonnet, a white gauze scarf. From their boats on the +river, or even when sightseeing on the island, or in the +house, the marvel-mongers have seen me so, and so reported +me. You know how a story grows by repetition where there +is nothing to contradict it? I was never seen in any way +but this, for I never left my island home except to leave +the country, and I never received any visitors. Behold the +mystery of the White Spirit!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. sighed. It is not always and to all persons an unmixed +pleasure to have a beautiful supernatural illusion +dispelled. She would have liked to tell the lady her vision +of the radiant woman, on the first and second night of her +stay in the old Wilderness manor-house; but she felt that +the time had not come for such confidences; and, furthermore, +that the time had come half an hour ago for her to +take leave of her new friend and start for home.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And what more do they say of me, child?” continued +the lady.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“That you are the benefactress of the neighborhood and—White +Spirit, or what not—you are an angel of benevolence.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It shames me to be over-praised, little girl. Tell me +something they say which is not praise.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, some scout the White Spirit; they say you are a +childless widow, and that your name is Mrs. Lynn.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“They do know quite a great deal about me, it seems. +Well, my dear child, as to this last rumor, it is not for <i>you</i> +to set them right by making any explanations. You could +not even do it properly, because you do not know the circumstances. +Let people continue to speak of me as widow, +and to call me Mrs. Lynn! They will not be so far wrong. +Lynn is only an abbreviation of my rightful name—however +they came by such a fractional part of the truth! So, +my dear, let me still be Mrs. Lynn to those who like to +call me so. And mark me—to no one except your father, +your mother, and old Monica, must you reveal the secret +that the Lady of Edengarden is no other than the poor +Emolyn Wyndeworth. They will respect my wishes and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_160'>160</span>keep my secret. The world thinks that I am dead, and it +thinks truly, for I am dead to the world. I come out of my +grave only for the sake of the few who love me.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You dream beautiful dreams in your grave, dear lady! +you who dreamed this Edengarden into existence!” murmured +Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Do you love this beauty so much, fair child? Then +perhaps you will come and share it with me. You are my +little namesake. I shall beg you of your mother some of +these days. She has so many daughters she might spare you +to me!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, she would! she would! My dear mother would +give you anything in her possession that you might ask of +her! And as for me—oh, how I should love to live with +you!” exclaimed Em. with a burst of enthusiasm.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“What! and leave your <i>own</i> mother?” wistfully inquired +the lady, as if to test the girl.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, my dear mother has father and so many other boys +and girls, as you said, she can spare me; and <i>you have no +one to love you</i>,” answered Em. in a voice of ineffable tenderness +and pathos.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The lady stooped and kissed her for all reply.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, how hard it is to get away! How I dislike to go. +Yet I must. I have overstayed my time. Dear lady, good-evening,” +said Em. as she arose and lifted the lady’s hand +to her lips.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Stay! Who is going to take you home?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Old ’Sias, the gatekeeper, madam.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“He of the ‘hundred and fifty years, more or less?’ +Where is he?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Waiting below, madam, in his boat—<i>The White Dove</i>.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Then come, my dear, and I will walk with you as far as +the Silver Circle, for so we call the grove of maple trees +that surrounds the shores of the island—though it is a golden +circle now, for the leaves have put on their autumn +livery,” said Mrs. Lynn, as she lifted a light shawl of shining +silky white gauze from a table near, threw it over her +head and shoulders and led the way from the house.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“That is a beautiful girdle of maples around the island—silvery +in the summer and golden in the autumn,” said +Em. as she walked beside her conductress down the marble +<span class='pageno' id='Page_161'>161</span>steps that led from terrace to terrace from the summit to +the plain.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Some day you shall see that golden circle from the top +of the observatory, for from there you can see the whole of +it and the effect is very fine,” answered the Lady of Edengarden +as they crossed the beautiful grounds and entered +the circular grove.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now I shall wish to come so often, for now it will not +be the likeness but the living lady that I shall long to see,” +said Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You shall come as often as you like, and stay as long +as you like. And tell your mother, dear, that I never leave +the confines of the island, except when I leave the country. +So I cannot go to see her; but I would be very happy to +see her here—and your father and old Aunt Monica. They +could come, as others come to see the island, and then they +should see me.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And Ann Whitlock? <i>Poor</i> Ann Whitlock?” pleaded +Em. as the lady paused to take leave.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, my child, I do not know much about her; and +my secret must not be confided to any one but the three +faithful friends in whom I can utterly confide. Not that +there is anything at stake, either; only, you see, poor +Emolyn Wyndeworth was stoned to death many years ago, +and she is dead and in her grave, and she will rise only +for the two or three who love her.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, but you dream such beautiful dreams in death. You +have dreamed this once barren rock into a blooming paradise, +you have dreamed blessings all around you! Oh! how +I wish I could dream such beautiful dreams as you do! +Especially that I could dream such blessings on all the +poor!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Stay, my child! I have just thought how I may employ +you. You shall realize the dreams of blessings. My +almoner is somewhat indolent with declining years, and not +quite equal to her duties. You shall be a ministering angel +to the needy, and find out all who are poor, sick, or suffering +in mind or body, and bring them to my knowledge, and +afterwards take them relief according to their requirements. +I am sure such occupation would suit you.”</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_162'>162</span>“It would make me happier than I ever hoped to be in +this world!” exclaimed Em. with enthusiastic delight.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Come to me, then, to-morrow. And let the others that +I have named come then, or at any other time. See! the +sun is on the verge of the horizon. You must hasten home. +Oh! my darling, I am so thankful you wandered over my +grave and raised me from it. Good-night! God bless you!” +And the lady drew the maiden to her bosom and kissed her +and turned away.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. watched the receding figure until it was lost in the +grove, and then she hurried down to the shore, where she +found the boat tied to its post and rocking on the water, and +old ’Sias sitting in the stern fast asleep.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She woke him up, and then said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I have kept you waiting too long, haven’t I, Uncle +’Sias? I have been gone more than three hours.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, no, honey; I has had a lubly quiet time here by +myself! And I had such a hebbenly dream! I dreamed +how de Lord had tuk Sereny—or de debbil had got her, I +didn’t know which; ennyhow she had ’parted dis life, and I +was libbin’ alone at de gate-house and smokin’ my pipe in +peace ’dout de fear o’ being scalped or performed on enny +more, and how you and Marse Lieutenant Ronald Bruce, +Esquire, was de lord and lady ob de manor libbin’ up at de +hall, and you was a-gwine out for a drive in a cherryrout +and four, and you called me to open de gate, and I jumped +to do it and woke up and found it was all a dream! How +dese dere ’cevin’ dreams do cheat us, Miss Em.,” said the +old man as he busied himself untying the boat.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“They do so, Uncle ’Sias! But don’t let this dream cheat +us into being out after dark. Make haste, please,” said Em. +as she stepped into the boat and seated herself and took the +tiller.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The old man laid himself heartily to the oars, and the +little boat shot from the shore and soon left the island far +behind it.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The sun had sunk behind the mountains that formed the +west bank of the river, and cast their deep shadow far +across the water; but Em., for the first time, took little +notice of the changes in the face of nature—she was absorbed +in thoughts of the strange discovery she had made +<span class='pageno' id='Page_163'>163</span>that day—the White Spirit, the Wonder of the Wilderness, +the Lady of Edengarden, no other than Emolyn Wyndeworth, +who had disappeared from the world so long ago, +that she was supposed to have been many years in Heaven.</p> + +<p class='c009'>How amazed, how incredulous, and at length how delighted +her mother would be to hear the news!</p> + +<p class='c009'>But the strangest truth in the girl’s experience now was +the sudden and perfect love and trust she already reposed +in Emolyn Wyndeworth, the Lady of Edengarden! She +felt that near that lady was <i>rest</i>—rest for her own troubled +heart; that on her bosom, as on some angel mother’s, she +could lay her weary head and tell all the secret thoughts and +affections, faults and temptations that troubled her.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She even resolved as she sat silently meditating in her +seat, while she mechanically steered the boat, that some day +she would tell this lady all about her ill-starred love affair +with Ronald Bruce, for surely the sympathetic Emolyn +Wyndeworth would be a disinterested umpire between the +old and young. And who knew? she was so wonderfully +powerful she might even find a way to make them—the +poor young lovers—happy.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Here, Miss Em.! Whar yer gwine? Here we is op’sit’ +de landin’, honey! Turn in!” were the words of old ’Sias +that woke Em. from her deep reverie.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She steered for the landing and in a few minutes +reached it.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Old ’Sias drew in his oars and secured the boat.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. jumped out and stood waiting until the old man +joined her.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Then they walked through the woods together. It was +growing dark and there was no moon.</p> + +<p class='c009'>When they reached the park wall and the gate-house Em. +took a silver half dollar from her pocket and said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Here, Uncle ’Sias, give this to Sereny from me.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, Miss Em. Thanky, honey! I understands! You +give me this for Sereny ’cause yer think maybe it’ll save +me from a performance. Which you may be sure it will, +honey. But I ain’t a-gwine to leabe you here, Miss Em. +I gwine to see yer safe t’rough dese woods and in sight ob +de house ennyhow,” said old ’Sias as he persistently trotted +<span class='pageno' id='Page_164'>164</span>by the young girl’s side, guarding her with the fidelity of a +Newfoundland dog.</p> + +<p class='c009'>It was surprising, too, to see how fast the little old man +could get on with the aid of his short, thick stick, which, at +every step, he put down with the vim of a third foot.</p> + +<p class='c009'>They soon came out of the thickest woods to where the +trees grew farther apart, under the walls of the manor-house. +They diverged to the right, where the broad gate +leading to the rear of the premises stood open, and through +which they could see the firelight gleaming from the windows +of the Red Wing.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Here the old man stopped and said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I’ll bid yer good-night here, Miss Em., and hurry back +home. No use to try Sereny’s temper more’n necessary, if +I has got a silver half dollar to satisfy her. So I’ll bid you +good-night, and de Lord bless you, honey.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And you, too, Uncle ’Sias, good-night, and thanks,” +answered Em. as she entered the gate and walked rapidly +towards the lighted windows of her cheerful home.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XX<br> <span class='c006'>REVIVAL</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c007'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>’Twas many and many a year ago,</div> + <div class='line in2'>In days when we were young,</div> + <div class='line'>And o’er all life’s coming morning, lo!</div> + <div class='line in2'>Hope’s magic glory hung.</div> + <div class='line in35'><span class='sc'>Persever.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c008'>“Well, Em. Palmer, and where have you been? I had +been expecting you home for more’n an hour, and was just +thinking of sending Tom to look for you, for fear something +had happened to you!” exclaimed Susan Palmer on +seeing her daughter enter the house.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I have been nowhere but to Edengarden, mother,” answered +the girl as she threw off her shawl and bonnet and +prepared to help the busy housewife, who was actively engaged +<span class='pageno' id='Page_165'>165</span>in preparing the supper, while the three little girls +were all employed in setting the table.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But what kept you so long? It’s dangerous for a young +girl to stay out so late in these woods!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, dear mother, I was safe enough! Old ’Sias came +with me up to the gate; and as for what kept me,” said the +girl, coming up close to the side of the woman, “I will tell +you that as soon as we are alone.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I—I hope it was no harm!” whispered Susan anxiously.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“None in the world, dear mother, but something that you +will be glad to hear, and, <i>hush</i>, I can’t tell you here! But +where is Aunt Monica that you should be getting supper?” +inquired Em. aloud.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, Aunt Monica is a fixture at the bedside of Ann +Whitlock!” answered Susan.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ann Whitlock! What, is she sick? She was well +enough when I left home!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“She’s sick enough now, then. She fell down in a fit this +afternoon as sudden as if she’d been shot or struck with +lightning! She was sitting at this very fire, knitting, when +it happened. If I hadn’t been on the spot and picked her +up in a minute she might ’a’ been burnt to death!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, how shocking! Oh, how sorry I am! What was it, +mother? What sort of a fit?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Monica says it is a paralytic stroke, just like that what +laid her own old marster low. You see, Monica was in the +room when it happened, and she helped me to tote the old +woman to the settee and lay her on it. And then, while we +’plied hartshorn to her nose and beat her hands and that, I +sent all the children in different directions to hunt for their +father, for I didn’t exactly know whether he was in the barn +or the stables, or where. But, law; we might as well ’a’ beat +a dead corpse! She didn’t give no more signs of life, nor +nothing!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, how <i>dreadful</i>!” cried Em., sitting down and clasping +her hands.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, so it is; but you know Ann Whitlock was quite +aged.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“She never had a spell of sickness in her life before, +though!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, if she had had she might have died. As it is, she +<span class='pageno' id='Page_166'>166</span>has lived to this old age until all her body is worn out at +once, and down she draps!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Has a doctor seen her? But, oh, of course not! There +has been no time to get one here! But has a doctor been +sent for, mother?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I was just a-going to tell you, Em. The boys found +their father in the stables and told him what had happened, +and he told them to saddle one of the fastest horses and +bring it round to the door for him, and he, you see, hurried +on to the house as hard as ever he could to see exactly what +was the matter. When he see Ann Whitlock lying in that +state on the wooden settee he said how we must get her up +to her own bed as soon as possible, and so he helped me and +Monica to tote her upstairs, and, law, Em., it almost broke +the three backs of us, she is such a heavy old woman, poor +soul!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Poor soul!” echoed the girl with a sigh.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, child, John left us to undress her and get her between +the sheets as well as she could, and he mounted +Queen Bess, and off he went for Greyrock to fetch a doctor, +and as that is thirty miles off, he said he didn’t expect +to be back much before to-morrow morning.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And, oh, will she have to wait all that time for attendance?” +exclaimed Em., clasping her hands in dismay.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“She might have had to do so; but, thank fortune, she +didn’t; for what do you think—as your father was tearing +along for life and death on the river turnpike he met Dr. +Willet full tilt in the road!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“<span class='sc'>Dr. Willet!</span>” exclaimed Em. in astonishment.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“<i>Dr. Willet!</i>” repeated Susan. “Yes, Dr. Willet, who, +it seems, and reached Greyrock in the stagecoach this +morning, and after resting himself had hired a horse and +started to ride to The Breezes, where he was going to pay +a long promised visit to his friend and neighbor, Commodore +Bruce! There! what do you think of that? If your +father, or if the doctor had been five minutes earlier or later +they must have missed each other, for the doctor had just +reached that part of the road where it turns from the river +’pike to enter the mountain pass leading to The Breezes! +There! and if your father had missed him he would have +to have ridden thirty miles to Greyrock, and thirty miles +<span class='pageno' id='Page_167'>167</span>back, making sixty altogether, before he would have got a +doctor to poor old Ann Whitlock. But there he met Dr. +Willet right in the very nick of time. Now, what do you +think of <i>that</i>, Em?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It was astonishing and most fortunate,” said the girl; +but her thoughts reverted to the more astonishing news she +had in store for her mother.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, you know as both was a-going of it as hard as they +ever could go, they all but rid over each other before they +knew it; and then they were so glad to see each other, and +John thanked Dr. Willet for the hand he had in getting of +him such a good situation as he’s got now; and Dr. Willet +asked John how all the family was, and then when John +told him all was well and hearty save Ann Whitlock, which +had just fell down in a fit, why, Dr. Willet just turned his +horse’s head immediate, and said he would come and look +after the poor woman, whom he had known in old times as a +skilful sick-nurse. So about an hour after I had seen John +ride away, to be gone all night, after the Greyrock doctor, +you may just fancy my astonishment to see him come riding +in with Dr. Willet. Why, I rubbed my eyes—as much expecting +to see the President as he!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But what did he say about poor Auntie Whitlock? Did +he say her attack was dangerous—fatal?” anxiously inquired +Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“He said it was a paralytic stroke. She might get over +it or she might not; and he gave most particular directions +how to treat her, and said as how he would see her every +day during his stay at The Breezes. We will all do the +best we can for her, Em., the same as if she was my mother +and your grandmother; but, Lord! child, when a woman +gets to be seventy-five what can you expect but her removal +to a better life?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, mother,” sighed Em; for she was as yet too young, +too much in love with this present life to think very seriously +of that which is to come.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Here’s father and the boys. Now put supper on the +table, Em.!” said Susan Palmer as John and his two lads +entered the kitchen, which, since the weather had turned +cold, was used as a dining-room as well.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now, Miss Runaway! And where have you been all +<span class='pageno' id='Page_168'>168</span>day?” inquired John Palmer good-humoredly as soon as +he saw Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Only to the island, father, dear,” she answered.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“She says she’ll tell me what kept her by and by. Some +poor folks, I s’pose, that she stopped to do something for. +Come, John, sit down and begin, or your supper’ll be cold,” +said the practical housewife.</p> + +<p class='c009'>John was an obedient husband besides being a hungry +man, and so he sat down, asked a blessing, and then made +a vigorous attack on the viands before him.</p> + +<p class='c009'>They were still at the table when there came a rap at the +kitchen door.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em., being the nearest, left her seat and opened it.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Then, to the surprise of every one, Lieutenant Ronald +Bruce walked into the kitchen. Yes, walked in with the +innocent and delighted air of a child who was doing a voluntary +good deed for which he expected to be praised and +rewarded. And then—just as if he had not been forbidden +the house that very morning, and had not departed both in +sorrow and in anger—he shook hands with Em., saying:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Good-evening, Miss Palmer. I hope you are quite +well;” and then impudently walked up to John and Susan, +shook hands with them both, nodded to the young ones, +and said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Mr. Palmer, I come to you from The Breezes on an errand. +Dr. Willet was remarking that your sick woman, +Mrs. Whitlock, needed brandy, and that none good was to +be found in the neighborhood. So my uncle sent down to +his own cellar at once and had up two bottles of this rare +old cognac—vintage 1781—and he sends it to you with his +good wishes. Here it is!” concluded the young man, taking +from each side pocket a long brown paper parcel, unrolling +them and displaying two dusty, mouldy, cobwebbed bottles, +which he stood upon the supper table.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Now what could John or Susan do or say?</p> + +<p class='c009'>I will tell you what Em. did. She set a chair before a +vacant place at the table and said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Will you join us and take a cup of tea, Mr. Bruce?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Thanks; I will gladly do so if Mrs. Palmer will permit +me,” smilingly answered the young man, as, taking this permission +for granted, he seated himself in the offered chair.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_169'>169</span>“I’m a thousand times obliged to Commodore Bruce, and +so would Mrs. Whitlock be if she was conscious enough to +know anything about it. But I must say I am sorry, sir, +that you should have taken the unusual trouble to bring it +over yourself,” said John, divided as to his emotions between +gratitude and indignation.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now who <i>was</i> to bring it but me? The commodore is +too old, and the doctor too tired to turn out after dinner. +And as to trusting one of the men servants—why, see here! +I’d trust any of them with any amount of money or of +jewels, and they would carry either safe as a bank. But +when it comes to old cognac brandy, why all the saints and +angels in heaven couldn’t prevent one of them from drinking +half the contents of the bottles and filling them up with +spring water! And then you know the brandy would never +get here at all. The messenger would have been dead drunk +before night, and dead, <i>dead</i> before morning, and <i>honest</i> +from that time forth, having made a meal for many crows! +Now do you see? The affair is in a nutshell. I had to +bring the brandy myself.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And I am sure it was very kind of you, sir, and we +are all very grateful,” said Susan Palmer politely as she +handed the unbidden guest a cup of tea.</p> + +<p class='c009'>John sighed.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I tried to put a damper on this here; but it’s no use. +‘Sich is life,’” he muttered in confidence to his own grizzled +black beard.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And you’ll not turn me out to-night, I feel sure, my +kind hostess?” said the young man as he bowed in accepting +the cup and the compliment.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Indeed, no! Your room is ready just as you left it this +morning! Turn you out, indeed! What! to ride up that +breakneck mountain-pass in the dead of night? Not likely. +Even if you wanted to go ever so much I wouldn’t let you +do it, no, not if I had to keep you by force and violence!” +said Susan.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Quite right. I shall give you no trouble, my gentle +jailer,” laughed Ronald Bruce.</p> + +<p class='c009'>As soon as supper was over Em. slipped away and went +upstairs to inquire how her poor old friend, Mrs. Whitlock, +was.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_170'>170</span>Ann Whitlock’s chamber was over the dining-room. As +Em. entered it she saw that it was at once warmed and +lighted by a blazing wood fire in the fireplace, near which +sat old Monica in a big arm-chair.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The sick woman lay on her comfortable bed, apparently +asleep.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. closed the door noiselessly and crossed the room on +tiptoe. When she had reached the side of old Monica she +whispered:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Will my whispering disturb her?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, no, honey; nothing ’sturbs her. She don’t take no +notice ob nothing,” answered the old nurse, not in a whisper +exactly, but in that low tone that well-trained people +use in a sick-room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Is she very ill, Aunt Monica? <i>You</i> know as well as +anybody.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, no, honey. Not near so bad as what old marster +was. Why, <i>she</i> can swallow and look at you; dough she +can’t move or speak.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Do you think she will get over it?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, honey, dough I doubt she will ebber be as well as +she was before. And whenebber she hab another ’tack like +dis it will be sure to finish her, honey! But she’s gettin’ +de best of ’tention now, you may be sure, honey.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I know she is. Now, Aunt Monica, I will take your +place and watch here until you go down and get your +supper.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No such thing, Miss Em.! I heard young Captain +Bruce come in just now, and I ain’t a-gwine to take you +away from his company for de sake o’ my supper. So you +go right straight downstairs and entertain de young gentleman +as you ought for to do!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, Aunt Monica; you know that I will not. Mrs. +Whitlock has always been a kind friend to me, and I must +help to wait on her. Go now and get your supper.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, Miss Em., when you have once said a thing I +know you’ll stick to it; so I’ll go down,” replied the old +woman, getting up and leaving the room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. went to the bedside and looked at the paralytic.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Ann Whitlock lay there like one placidly sleeping; there +was no sign of suffering about her.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_171'>171</span>Em. knelt beside her and offered up an earnest prayer +for her recovery, and then she returned to her arm-chair +before the fire, sat down and lapsed into thought. She had +so much to think of! Her meeting with the Lady of Edengarden; +her discovery of the identity of this lady with that +of the long mourned Emolyn Wyndeworth; the strong, +mutual attraction that seemed to draw and bind her to that +lady and that lady to her; the fatal attack of Ann Whitlock; +the unexpected arrival of Dr. Willet; the sudden reappearance +of Ronald Bruce;—all these unexpected events +that seemed to have in them something of the nature of +destiny took hold on her imagination, filled her mind and +occupied all her thoughts.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Time passed unheeded until the re-entrance of old Monica, +who unceremoniously said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now, honey, if you please, I’ll jes’ take my old rocking-chair, +and you’ll go downstairs to your young man! Young +man for young gal, and ole rocking-chair for ole ’omen. +Behold de beauty ob de ’daptations!” concluded Aunt Monica +as she settled herself in the depths of the softly-cushioned +arm-chair and put out her feet to the fire.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. stepped on tiptoe from the room, noiselessly closed +the door behind her and went downstairs, where she found +the family circle gathered around the kitchen fire listening +to one of Ronald’s sea yarns.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The young man arose and gave her his chair and went +and got another, which he took good care to place beside her +as he seated himself.</p> + +<p class='c009'>How Ronald taxed his brain that night to invent marvelous +stories of voyages, storms, battles, fires, shipwrecks, +rescues, pirates, barbarous shores, desert islands, deliverances, +and treasure-trove!</p> + +<p class='c009'>And how John listened with eyes wide open and mouth +often agape to swallow such huge prodigies.</p> + +<p class='c009'>In a short pause, while John mended the fire, Ronald +found time to whisper to Em.:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“If everything else goes by the board, my dear, and you +and I have to go to housekeeping together in a cottage I +can keep the pot boiling by writing stories for the papers, +can’t I?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, Ronald! Then it is not all true?” whispered Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_172'>172</span>“I suppose it is—of some other people on some other +seas and shores, on some other planets in this boundless +universe, or it never would have come into my head; but it +is not true of <i>this</i> world, as far as I know!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>When the last wonderful tale was told the family separated +and retired to bed, leaving only Em. and her mother +to settle up the kitchen.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XXI<br> <span class='c006'>THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c007'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>Heaven has to all allotted, soon or late,</div> + <div class='line'>Some happy revolution of their fate;</div> + <div class='line'>Whose motions, if we watch and guide with skill,</div> + <div class='line'>(For human good depends on human will,)</div> + <div class='line'>Our fortune rolls as from a smooth descent,</div> + <div class='line'>And from the first direction takes its bent.</div> + <div class='line in43'><span class='sc'>Dryden.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c008'>“Do you think they are all in bed and asleep?” whispered +Em. as, having covered up the kitchen fire, the mother and +daughter stood for a moment on the hearth, each with a +short candle in a brass candlestick in her hand.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“They are all abed, I’ll warrant you. I can’t say about +their being asleep, though. Why do you ask?” inquired +Susan.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Because one or another of the boys, or father, is sometimes +going around after some door or window they have +forgotten to look to, or something else, long after we have +supposed them to be abed and asleep, mother.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, what of it, Em.?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Why, mother, I have something to tell you that I do +not wish to have overheard by anybody.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Is it the reason why you have stayed out so long?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, mother.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, now, Em., that can keep till to-morrow morning. +I know it’s about some poor family you have been visiting +and want me to help, without your telling me, and I can +attend to it to-morrow. I am too tired to-night for anything +but my bed. There!”</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_173'>173</span>“But, dear mother, it is not about any family that needs +help, or anything of the sort! Oh, mother, it is something +I cannot speak to you of in the morning, when there is so +much going to and fro, and we have no privacy.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, then, I do suppose it is about Ronald Bruce you +want to talk to me. But it is of no use, Em.! I agree with +your father. You must give that young man up and forget +him. And after to-morrow he <i>must not</i> be allowed to come +here again! He got his walking papers this morning, and +he ought to have been guided by them and not returned. +Though, of course, as he did so, and brought that rare old +brandy for the sick woman, I had to attend to him and +treat him with politeness. And, besides, to tell the truth, he +has a way with him that nobody can resist. That’s the +reason I say he must <i>never</i> come here again! I told your +father that he must put him <i>on his honor</i> not to come again +unless he came with Commodore Bruce’s authority to marry +you. As that’s impossible, he’s sure not to return.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It was not of Mr. Bruce I wished to speak, mother,” +said Em. in a low tone.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, then, what in the name o’ sense was it?” demanded +Susan Palmer somewhat impatiently, for she was +tired and sleepy, and wearying for bed.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. drew nearer, put her lips to her mother’s ear, and +whispered:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Of Emolyn Wyndeworth! I have heard something of +her fate!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“<span class='sc'>Eh!</span>” cried Susan Palmer, starting and dropping her +candlestick. She was wide awake now, with every vestige +of weariness departed, and the longing for bed turned into +the longing for news.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Come up with me to my attic room, dear mother; there +is a good fire burning there, and we shall be safe from interruption; +and, oh, I have so much to tell you!” said Em. +as she stooped and picked up the fallen candlestick and replaced +the candle in it.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Em.! are you sure of what you are saying?” exclaimed +Susan Palmer as soon as she could speak.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Quite sure, mother. Come,” said the girl, leading the +way from the kitchen.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_174'>174</span>“But how on the face of the earth could <i>you</i> have heard +anything about it?” breathlessly inquired the mother as +she followed her daughter upstairs.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Dear mother, just wait till we get out of hearing of any +of these rooms, and then I will tell you everything,” replied +Em. in a whisper.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Where did she die? How long has she been dead? +What was the matter with her besides a broken heart? Tell +me that if you can,” persisted Susan Palmer as she tugged +breathlessly up the attic stairs after her daughter.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Mother, she is not dead!” whispered Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“EH!” cried the woman.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Hush-sh-sh—here we are at my room. Come in, mother, +and when I have shut the door I will tell you all about it,” +said Em. as she entered, followed by her eager listener.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. secured the door, rolled the easy-chair up before the +cheerful fire, made her mother sit down comfortably in it, +drew a low stool to her side, seated herself, and prepared to +commence her narration; but was vehemently interrupted +by Susan’s breathless inquiries:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You say she’s not dead? Are you sure? How do you +know? If she is not dead, where has she been all this time +that no one has ever heard of her?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Mother, dear, I do not quite know, except that she has +been at Edengarden, and traveling. But, though living, she +has been dead to the world, she says.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“‘<i>She says!</i>’ Why, for Heaven’s sake, girl, have you <i>seen</i> +her and heard her talk, <i>yourself</i>?” exclaimed Susan in a +transport of wonder almost as great as if she had heard +Em. tell of seeing and hearing a spirit from Paradise.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, mother, dear, how else could I have known anything +about the lady?” said Em., who would then have delivered +a “plain unvarnished tale” of her day’s adventures +had not Susan’s impetuous cross-examination precluded all +possibility of a consecutive narrative.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. was put upon the witness-stand and compelled to +answer as she was questioned.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“When did you see her? Where was she? How came +you to meet her? How did she look? What did she say?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I met her by accident this afternoon on the island, while +<span class='pageno' id='Page_175'>175</span>I was looking at one of the pictures in the house. She +looked thin and white, but young and beautiful as any angel +for all that. She asked me my name, and when I told her +she seemed to know all about me, and was very kind to me, +and sent her love to you and wishes you and old Aunt Monica +and father to come with me to see her to-morrow, if possible, +or, if not, as soon as you can,” answered Em., pouring +out her news as rapidly as she could to satisfy the ravenous +demands of the inquirer.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well—well—well! Wonders will never cease in this +world. Why, this beats Mr. Ronald’s sea yarns, Em. Emolyn +Wyndeworth alive! Emolyn Wyndeworth the Lady of +Edengarden! So near us, and not to let me know—<i>me</i>, who +loved her so dearly, and had good cause, for the child sold +her very clothes to buy my children bread!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>And here Susan Palmer began to cry, though she could +not for her life have told whether it was for present joy or +remembered sorrow. It was probably from both causes.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Not to let <i>me</i> know she was living, and so near—me, +who named my prettiest child after her!” sobbed Susan.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But, mother, she <i>has</i> let you know. She has sent you +word by me. Remember, she has only been here for a few +days—since the first of October.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh! You didn’t tell me <i>that</i>, Em. I thought she had +been here all the summer, as the people say she generally +is. I wish you would tell <i>a straight story</i>, Em., and then I +could understand things better,” said Susan Palmer as she +wiped her eyes on her clean apron.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“That is just what I have been trying to do, mother; so, +if you will let me, I will begin at the beginning and tell +you every particular so plainly that it will be as good as if +you had gone there with me yourself and seen and heard +everything.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, then, so do, Em., and I’ll not interrupt you,” said +Susan, settling herself comfortably back in the old easy-chair +and stretching out her feet to the fire.</p> + +<p class='c009'>And, having had her first ravenous and devouring cravings +of curiosity satisfied, the good woman kept her word, +and sat and listened with patient attention while Em. gave +her a careful and detailed account of her visit to the island +and interview with the Lady of Edengarden.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_176'>176</span>Even when Em. had finished her narrative her mother +showed no disposition to retire. All sense of weariness and +drowsiness seemed to have vanished. Susan Palmer appeared +to be disposed to sit up all night before the fire in +her daughter’s chamber, talking of Emolyn Wyndeworth.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I wonder what she has been doing all these years when +she has not been at Edengarden? Traveling all over the +world, I do suppose, scattering blessings wherever she +passed, I <i>know</i>; for the good of others was her only object, +thought of self was never in her heart. I hardly think she +ever felt she had any self until that sharp trouble of hers +pierced her through and through, and drove her out into +the desert places of the world.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“What trouble was that of hers, dear mother, can you +tell me?” inquired Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, I can’t tell you. I think <i>she</i> will some day, as she +has taken such a wonderful fancy to you. You say she +wants you, Em.?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, mother, dear, she wants me to live with her as +companion, I suppose. She must be very lonely, you know.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Would you like to go, Em.?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, dear mother, yes, indeed, if you and father are +willing to part with me.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It would hardly be like parting with you to lend you +to her, so near us, too! And it would help you to forget +that young man, whom you <i>must</i> forget, Em. Well, child, +if she wants you and you want to go to her <i>you shall go</i>; so +that is settled. Your father would never dream of making +any objection when anything as much for your good as that +is in <i>every</i> respect turns up.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I was sure you would like me to go, mother.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Why, of course. Now I tell you what we will do. To-morrow +morning, if no change for the worse takes place in +poor Ann Whitlock, we will borrow old ’Sias’s boat, and me +and your father, just us three and no more, will start for +Edengarden. And when we get safe in the middle of the +river, out of hearing of every one but the water-fowl, we +will tell father all about it! And, oh, won’t he be astonished? +But we won’t drop a word of it to him, or any one +else, until <i>then</i>. As to old Monica, although we have the +lady’s leave to do it, we will not say anything to her yet +<span class='pageno' id='Page_177'>177</span>awhile either. It would only distract her mind from the +sick woman, who needs all her attention. What do you +think, Em.?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Dear mother, I think you are quite right. Oh, let us +be very cautious; for though I cannot imagine why that +lovely Lady of Edengarden should wish to keep her identity +as Emolyn Wyndeworth concealed beyond that it is from the +memory of some great sorrow suffered in her youth—still, +I know she made such a strong point of our keeping her +secret when she gave me her confidence that I would not for +all this world could offer me even seem to betray the trust!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Don’t be afraid o’ me, Em.! I can be as secret as the +grave,” said Susan Palmer.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The clock in the hall clanged out twelve.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I declare, it is midnight! Good-night, Em.! I must +go to bed, though I don’t believe I shall sleep a wink this +night with thinking of Emolyn Wyndeworth!” said the +good woman as she lighted her candle and left the room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. did not go to bed, however. She drew the brands +together to make them safe, laid a log upon them to keep +the fire, and then blew out her candle and tripped downstairs +to Ann Whitlock’s room, which she entered.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She found the sick woman either sleeping or unconscious, +and old Monica sitting in the arm-chair before the fire, +wakeful and watchful.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I have come to tell you that you must lie down and +sleep. I will take your place until daylight,” said Em., +leaning over the chair.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Old Monica resisted this mandate; but Em. insisted, and +finally the nurse compromised matters by simply lying +down on the outside of the bed behind Ann Whitlock, where +she soon fell fast asleep.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. herself felt very drowsy, so, for fear of following old +Monica’s example if she should sit in the old rocker over +the fire, she drew a very <i>un</i>easy, hard, and high-backed +chair to the side of the bed and sat down to watch her +patient.</p> + +<p class='c009'>When feeling herself almost overcome by sleep she would +rise and walk noiselessly up and down the room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>If her patient stirred she would give her a teaspoonful +<span class='pageno' id='Page_178'>178</span>or more of beef tea and brandy, which the sick woman would +swallow mechanically.</p> + +<p class='c009'>If the fire burned low she mended it by putting on fresh +logs.</p> + +<p class='c009'>And so she passed the night in the sick-room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>When morning dawned she did not wake old Monica; +but the aged are never long or heavy sleepers; so, as the +first rays of the rising sun streamed through the open slats +of the window shutters, the old nurse opened her eyes, sat +bolt upright on the bed, took an instant to collect her faculties, +and then got down and said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Lord bless you, honey, for dis ’freshing nap as I have +had! Now, tell me how you bofe got along ’dout me.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You bofe” being supposed to signify the young nurse +and her patient, Em. gave Monica a full and satisfactory +report of the night’s watch.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Then the girl went up to her own room, took a refreshing +wash in ice-cold water, and after brushing her hair and +changing her dress she felt as wide awake as if she had +slept instead of watching all night long.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She went down into the parlor, expecting to find some +part of the family there in honor of their guest.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She found no one but Ronald Bruce, standing with his +back to the wood fire.</p> + +<p class='c009'>He sprang to meet her.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Dear Em., I have been here since daybreak, hoping +some good spirit favorable to poor, unfortunate lovers might +whisper in your ear and send you down to see me,” he exclaimed +as he took both her hands and drew her towards +him.</p> + +<p class='c009'>But she slipped away and evaded the kiss he meant, as +she said to him:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ronald, I <i>am</i> glad to speak to you alone for a moment, +and for the last time, dear Ronald, until our meeting shall +be sanctioned by my parents and your uncle.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Little prude! Little prig!” muttered the young man, +half sulkily, half lovingly.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I wanted to tell you, Ronald, that my mother and father +both love you very dearly. Indeed, you ought to know that.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Perhaps I do know it and presume on it a little.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But for all that, Ronald, for reasons that you know of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_179'>179</span>my father intends this morning to put you upon your honor +never to come to this house or seek my presence again until +you can come with your uncle’s sanction.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“As if my uncle had a parent’s authority over a man +twenty-three years old!” impatiently burst forth the youth.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“However that may be, my father insists that you seek +my hand <i>only</i> with your uncle’s sanction. And now, Ronald, +I must be brief in what I have to say to you, for some +one may come in at any moment. It is this, dear Ronald: +Submit to my father’s terms patiently. He loves you as +well as me, and he would not do anything that he did not +believe would be for your good as well as for mine.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I wish to the Lord in heaven that people would mind +their own business and leave us and our good alone!” +vehemently exclaimed the vexed lover.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ronald! Ronald! How can you say such things in +reference to father? He has a right to be obeyed by his +own daughter and in his own house! But listen, dear Ronald, +for this is what I wished to say to you: <i>Be patient</i>. I +am convinced that all will soon be well.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Em., my dearest, what do you mean by that? Have +you——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>But before the young man could utter another word John +Palmer entered the room, bid his guest a cordial good-morning, +and invited him to walk in to breakfast, which +was waiting for them.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Ronald returned the greeting, and then openly gave Em. +his arm and took her in to breakfast.</p> + +<p class='c009'>They no longer treated the young lieutenant as a +stranger, so all the family were assembled around the table, +only waiting for his entrance to take their seats.</p> + +<p class='c009'>After greetings had been exchanged they sat down.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Susan dispensed the tea and coffee; John the broiled venison +steaks; and Em. the buckwheat cakes.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Love had not taken away the young man’s appetite, for +he did full justice to the food set before him.</p> + +<p class='c009'>When breakfast was over he took leave of his kind hostess +and her family, gave Em.’s hand a prolonged squeeze, and, +attended to the yard by John Palmer, went out and +mounted his horse and started for The Breezes, wondering +<span class='pageno' id='Page_180'>180</span>as he rode slowly away what Em. could have meant by her +cheerful prophecy that all would soon be well.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XXII<br> <span class='c006'>HOPE</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c007'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>Hope bids me hope! In that consoling word</div> + <div class='line'>Is peace and comfort to my soul restored.</div> + <div class='line'>None without hope has loved the brightest fair.</div> + <div class='line'>For love can hope where reason would despair.</div> + <div class='line in32'><span class='sc'>Lord Lyttleton.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c008'>“Did you ask that young gentleman not to visit here +again? Did you put him on his honor not to come?” anxiously +inquired Susan Palmer of her husband as he re-entered +the kitchen after seeing his guest off.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well,” said honest John, hesitating and looking down, +“to tell you the plain truth, Susan, I didn’t.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You didn’t!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No: I have been trying to tell him all yesterday and +this morning, but he was so very kind and pleasant all the +while that I hadn’t a chance to break in anywhere, even +edgeways, to say he must never come back again. Well, I +hadn’t the heart to do it—there! Why, I coud as soon have +struck a friend in the face while he was smiling up into mine.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. went up to her father, put her arms around his neck +and kissed him quietly.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, but you know I ought to have forbidden him the +house, though, all the same, Em.,” whispered John Palmer, +shaking his head.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, no, no, no, dearest father, no! Your kind heart led +you right,” exclaimed Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I know I can trust you, Em. You will not disobey me, +my girl?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, never, never, father! I will never do anything you +disapprove.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I know it, my darling. You are safe enough.”</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_181'>181</span>“That’s not the question,” snapped Susan. “It’s the +girl’s peace and quietness I’m thinking of, and if that +young man is to be allowed to come here whenever he +pleases, how is she ever to forget him, I’d like to know? +Being as things are, the sooner Em. leaves home the better.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well,” sighed John, “’twas <i>you</i>, Susan, as gave him the +heartiest welcome last night, and now you blame me—but +‘sich is life.’”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Having finished with his favorite bit of philosophy, John +took his pipe from the mantelpiece and walked out to the +orchard, where the negroes were gathering winter apples +for storing.</p> + +<p class='c009'>He had scarcely left the house when Dr. Willet arrived +on his morning visit.</p> + +<p class='c009'>He tied his horse and walked into the open door of the +passage without ceremony.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. met him as she came out of the kitchen.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, my dear, how do you do? How do you like living +in the country? It is only a few months since you left +town, yet I dare say now it seems to you quite a long while,” +said the good doctor cheerfully as he shook hands with the +girl.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It seems a lifetime, sir, since we lived in Laundry Lane! +Longer even than that. It seems—that period, I mean—to +belong to some remote state of pre-existence!” answered +Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I thought so! I thought so!” said the doctor with +evident satisfaction. “So you don’t pine to return?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, no, sir, no! And yet the old lane and the poor, dear +children who still live there!” said Em. compassionately.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, yes. Ah, here comes your mother! Well, Mrs. +Palmer, how is our patient to-day?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, doctor, good-morning to you! She is better, I +think. I have just come down from her bedside. She can +move her hands and feet, but can’t turn over yet. She can +also chew and swallow, but she can’t speak. And she seems +to understand every word we say to her, but she can’t answer +except by signs.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Just so, but all that is a very great improvement since +yesterday. I will go up and see her.”</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_182'>182</span>“Oh, doctor, wasn’t it a Providence you being in the +neighborhood just at this time?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It was fortunate,” said Dr. Willet as he followed Mrs. +Palmer upstairs.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. took her workbasket and sat down to sew until the +return of her mother and the physician.</p> + +<p class='c009'>After an absence of about twenty minutes they came +down the steps, talking cheerfully, the doctor more than +confirming the hopeful report of the nurse as to the old +patient’s amendment.</p> + +<p class='c009'>When Dr. Willet had taken a kindly leave of all the family +and had ridden away Em. said to her mother:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Don’t you think now that we might trust Mrs. Whitlock +with Aunt Monica and Aunt Sally, and get father to take +us to Edengarden, mother?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, child, yes, I was planning the very same thing +myself! I’ll send one of the boys to fetch Sally, and you +can throw your shawl over your head and run down and +meet your father in the orchard and speak to him about +taking us. And, mind, girl, be cautious! Not one word +about the Lady of Edengarden until we three are on the +boat alone together in the middle of the river, out of earshot +of every human being except ourselves.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, mother, never fear me!” said Em. as she took her +shepherd’s plaid shawl from its peg, wrapped it around +her head and shoulders, wearing it as gracefully as ever +Andalusian beauty wore her fascinating “rabousa,” and +tripped out of the house on her way to the orchard.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Father, you are not very busy to-day?” she said interrogatively +as she came up to John Palmer, standing amid +a group of busy apple-pickers.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, no, Em., not particularly. Why did you ask, my +lass?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Because, if you can spare the time, mother and I wish +you to take us in the row-boat down to Edengarden Island.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, there! If I have asked your mother once to go +to Edengarden I have asked her fifty times this summer, +and never could get her to go. No, she wouldn’t trust herself +on the water! But now she will go! Well, ‘sich is life.’ +Of course I’ll spare the time, my dear! When do you want +to go?”</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_183'>183</span>“Now.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“That’s short and sweet. Now, then, run home and get +ready, and I will send word down to old ’Sias to have the +boat out.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. went home as fast as she had come out, and told her +mother to prepare for the trip.</p> + +<p class='c009'>As for Em. herself, <i>her</i> preparations were soon made; +they consisted only in lowering her shawl to her shoulders, +putting a little brown felt hat on her head, and drawing a +pair of gloves on her hands.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Susan only waited to receive Aunt Sally and place her in +charge of the house, and then went with Em. out to join +John, who, in his Sunday clothes, was waiting for them +out of doors.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The three walked briskly down the leaf-strewn road that +led to the park gate.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Long time since you and I have had an outing together, +Susan! And this came so unexpectedly it has all the pleasure +of a surprise as well as of a holiday,” said John gayly, +for he seemed honestly to enjoy his “outing,” as he called +it, in company with his wife and his favorite child.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I’m sure, John, this time yesterday I had as much idea +of going to Europe as going to Edengarden.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, and what put it into your head to-day, my dear?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I—I changed my mind,” replied Susan evasively.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You did? Surely. Well, ‘sich is life.’”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Here we are at the gate, and it is propped open. Old +’Sias is down on the shore with a boat, I suppose, and as +for Sereny, she’d see us stand here forever before she would +take the trouble to open the gate. The only way in which +<i>she</i> ever exerts herself is in whacking old ’Sias,” said +Susan as they passed through the gate, which John carefully +locked behind them. Then he put the key in his +pocket, with the intention to give it to old ’Sias down on +the shore.</p> + +<p class='c009'>A rapid walk through the thick woods brought them +down to the banks of the river.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Old ’Sias was there, standing in the boat and looking +out for the expected party.</p> + +<p class='c009'>John Palmer greeted him kindly, delivered the keys of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_184'>184</span>the gate, and cautioned him against ever leaving it open +again.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Old ’Sias remarked that “Jordan was a hard road to +travel for any poor pilgrim who had duties to perform on +the one hand, and a Sereny to perform on him on t’other.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>But he resigned the command of the boat to John Palmer +and made the best of his way to his special post of duty.</p> + +<p class='c009'>John helped Susan into the boat and seated her comfortably.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. entered, unassisted, seated herself in her accustomed +place and took the tiller.</p> + +<p class='c009'>John laid himself to the oars and rowed swiftly from the +shore, while Em. steered for the island.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“What in the name o’ sense makes you hold on to that +stick, Em.?” inquired Susan, impatient of every motion +she did not understand.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“This stick, as you call it, mother, is the rein that guides +our water-horse down the river.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I wish you would talk straight sometimes, Em.!” exclaimed +her mother.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The girl laughed and then explained the simple action +of the tiller.</p> + +<p class='c009'>When they had reached the middle of the river Em. said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Dear father, rest on your oars for a little and let us +drift slowly down stream. We did not bring you out to-day +for pleasure only, but to tell you a secret that we feared the +very leaves might hear, and the birds repeat, if we told it +on land.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Eh! What! A secret! A dangerous secret!” exclaimed +John, pausing in his work and staring at his daughter. +“None o’ the boys ain’t been up to doing nothing +wrong, have they?” he continued in growing anxiety.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, dear father, nor the girls, neither,” said Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Whatever trouble you may have to bear in this world, +John Palmer, you may be sure of one thing—that your +children will never bring it on you,” added Susan.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But—what’s the matter?” inquired puzzled John.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Tell him, mother,” said Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, then, listen and never breathe it to a human being—Emolyn +Wyndeworth is found!”</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_185'>185</span>John instinctively opened his mouth to speak, but found +no word to express his astonishment.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But I thought she was dead and gone long, long ago,” +he said at length.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, she was only dead to the world, and gone far out of +the ken of all who ever knew her before,” replied Susan.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“She is the Lady of Edengarden,” added Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Eh! What! The Lady of Edengarden! Then she +must be our Lady of the Manor as well!” exclaimed John in +growing amazement.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“She <i>is</i>, and just as soon as this Manor of the Wilderness +came into her possession through the death of her relative, +old Mr. Elphine, don’t you see, she thought of us at once? +Yes, and through Dr. and Mrs. Willet she managed to get +us all out here without appearing to have anything to do +with it.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well,” said John meditatively, “I often wondered how +such a thundering great piece of good fortune ever did +come to us, who wa’n’t much blessed with rich friends! +And now I know. But why should the lady wish to keep +her existence a secret?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, John! you are a man, or you never could have +asked that question! Do you think she could ever get over +the cruel wrong that was done her, innocent as she was? +Why, even the poor wounded dove goes away and hides itself +from all eyes to die. She was wounded to the very death, +and yet she could not die, and she would not kill herself; +but she went away and hid herself—innocent as an angel +though she was!” answered Susan with emotion.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I’d faced it out if I’d been her!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Of course you would; but you wa’n’t her! And now, +John Palmer, do you listen to me,” said Susan solemnly. +“Nobody but you and me, in this neighborhood, knows anything +about the awful affliction that drove this innocent lady +into the wilderness. And we must be cautious! We must +never speak of her even to each other, unless we find ourselves +in a boat in the middle of the river, as the only place +where we can be quite sure of not being overheard.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But—how on earth did you find all this out?” inquired +John, scratching his head.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I will tell you all about it,” said Susan.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_186'>186</span>And she forthwith gave him a detailed account of Em.’s +visit to the isle, her unexpected meeting with the Lady of +Edengarden and the ensuing interview between them, during +which the lady had revealed herself to the girl and sent +messages to the parents requesting the latter to visit her +at Edengarden.</p> + +<p class='c009'>While Susan eagerly narrated and John earnestly listened +Em. steered the boat as it floated slowly down stream.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now what do you think of that?” said Susan when she +had finished her story.</p> + +<p class='c009'>John did not know what he thought, and so he could +not tell her.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Why don’t you speak?” demanded Susan.</p> + +<p class='c009'>John had nothing new to say, so he said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“‘Sich is life!’”</p> + +<p class='c009'>And he took up both oars and laid himself to them with +such vigor that the boat soon cleared the intervening water +and grounded on the sands at the landing of Edengarden +Island.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now you two just walk up to the house. I’ll stay here +with the boat until you come back,” said John Palmer as +he helped his wife and daughter to land.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now, John, I do think that is too queer of you! Why +can’t you walk up with us when the lady sent you an invitation +to come, too?” exclaimed Susan, with an injured air.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now look here, dear woman, s’pose the lady did invite +me along of you and Em. It was just out of kindness and +politeness to your husband and Em.’s father, not that she +cared about seeing me. And don’t you see, if she was <i>ever</i> +so friendly to me, as she <i>is</i>, and has shown herself to be +bringing us all to the Wilderness manor-house, <i>still</i>, in this +first meeting, don’t you think she’d prefer to see you <i>without</i> +me? You’ll have such a deal of woman’s affairs to talk +about, you know!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Father is right, mother,” said Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, then, come along,” exclaimed Susan. “And +John, you had better fasten the boat and walk up and down +in the sunshine on the beach. If you sit there you will +take cold.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>With this parting advice Susan followed her daughter, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_187'>187</span>who led the way up the narrow path leading from the landing +through the belt of silver maples, and through the +ornamented grounds, and up terrace upon terrace, until +they reached the middle and highest part of the island +upon which the mansion of white stone stood.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Susan was loud in her expressions of admiration at the +beauty of the place.</p> + +<p class='c009'>When they reached the marble steps that led to the main +entrance, Em. passed up quickly before her mother and +rang the bell.</p> + +<p class='c009'>A colored boy about sixteen years old opened the door.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Is Mrs. Lynn at home?” inquired Em., after she had +recovered from her momentary surprise at the unexpected +sight of a stranger.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The page took a deliberate view of the mother, and then +inquired in his turn:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Name o’ Palmer?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, Mrs. Palmer and her daughter,” answered Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“My mist’ess is at home. Walk in,” said the boy, opening +wide the door.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XXIII<br> <span class='c006'>EMOLYN’S WEIRD</span></h2> +</div> +<p class='c008'>We maun a’dree our weird.—<span class='sc'>Meg Merriles.</span></p> + +<p class='c009'>They entered the beautiful white hall, with its rainbow +windows, around on which Susan Palmer stared with open-eyed +admiration and wonder.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Mrs. Palmer!” exclaimed the page, throwing wide open +a door leading into an elegant little parlor on the right-hand +side of the hall, opposite the grand saloon.</p> + +<p class='c009'>A lady dressed in gray rose from a sofa and advanced +to meet the visitors.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, Miss Emolyn!” exclaimed Mrs. Palmer, so overcome +with emotion at the very sight of the lady that she +sank down at once into the arm-chair which Em. quick +as thought wheeled to her side.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_188'>188</span>Meantime Mrs. Lynn took the girl by the hand and kissed +her before turning attention to Susan.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, Miss Emolyn! That I should live to see you again! +Thank Heaven! Oh, thank Heaven! And you are not +changed so much! Oh, no, indeed!” exclaimed Susan +Palmer in almost hysterical excitement.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Nor are you changed much in all these years, dear old +friend, or, indeed, changed at all, except for the better! +You are plumper and rosier than you used to be, Mrs. +Palmer,” said Emolyn, as she stood by her chair, took her +hand and kissed her gently.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It is the good living, my dear young lady. It is the +pure air and fresh water and abundant food. It is the +good living that has given us all new life, which we owe +to your sweet, kind heart, Miss Emolyn!” said Susan +Palmer, weeping for joy while she covered the hands of her +benefactress with kisses.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It makes me so happy to see you so well and prosperous,” +said the lady, as she gently withdrew her hands +from Susan’s clasps and kisses, and seated herself in the +nearest chair.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Em. has told me all you told her, but, oh, my dear +young lady——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am not a young lady any longer, Susan,” said Emolyn, +smiling sadly. “I am thirty-two and a half years old.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“That don’t seem possible, to look at you, Miss Emolyn, +yet it must be so. You must be thirty-two, for you were +sixteen when I saw you last, and that was nearly seventeen +years ago! La! Em. was a baby then, and now she’s a +young woman. And, Miss Emolyn, do you know we all +think Em. the very print of you, as why wouldn’t she be +when for months and months before she was born I did +nothing but think of you and your troubles in your tyrant’s +house, my poor, dear young lady, and your image was never +out of my mind. But, oh, my dear child, where have you +been all these years when we thought you in heaven?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, Susan Palmer, it is a long story! When I left the +city after passing through that ordeal of fire and water, my +guardian, dear Uncle Lewis Berners, took me to Dranesville +for a few days. Then, when Pony came out to me, he +wished to take us home with him to Virginia; but I could +<span class='pageno' id='Page_189'>189</span>not bear to go. So he took me to Europe. But lay off your +bonnet and shawl, dear old friend, for if I tell you all you +wish to know, it will be some time before I get through.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am very much obleeged to you, Miss Emolyn, but I +left my old man down in the boat, so it ain’t worth while +to take off my things.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, why did he not come up?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, honey, he thought we’d like to have a little talk +by ourselves first.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And he was right, ma’am, wasn’t he? And, mother, +don’t be troubled. Father’ll fasten the boat and take a +walk around the island, where he will see enough to interest +him for hours yet,” said Em., as she took off her own hat +and shawl and went up to Mrs. Palmer to take hers.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now do you see the cool manner in which that girl +takes her own way?” said Susan, as she gave Em. her +bonnet and wraps.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Give them to the boy in the hall, my dear; he will put +them away for you. And now, Susan Palmer, be easy +until lunch time, which is not far off, and then I will send +your daughter to fetch her father, and by the time he comes +we will have got through all our confidential talk.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, my dear young lady—for I shall call you my +young lady until I see some signs of middle age come over +you—my dear young lady, have your own way! You can +do just as you please with me! And why not, seeing how +heavenly good you have been to me! I’ll stay, ma’am, and +very glad to stay, I don’t deny it,” said Susan with a sigh +of satisfaction as she sank back comfortably in the most +luxurious arm-chair she had ever sat in during her life.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Draw your chair near me, little namesake, so that I can +hold your hand in mine while I talk,” said Emolyn, as she +turned a glance full of tenderness on Em.’s sympathetic +face.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The young girl did as she was requested, and then, with +Em.’s hand clasped closely in hers upon her lap, Emolyn +began the story of her exile.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I say, after I had passed through that fiery trial my +guardian took me out of the city secretly and hid me at +Dranesville, an obscure hamlet, where I remained in my +room at the quiet little hotel, unknown, until the arrival +<span class='pageno' id='Page_190'>190</span>of Pony with my trunk. Then my guardian wished to take +me home with him to Blackville. But I could not bear the +thought of remaining in my native country, or seeing any +one whom I had ever known before.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I don’t wonder, my dear! I don’t wonder, indeed!” +sighed Susan Palmer, half weeping.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“My guardian was very tolerant of my weakness—very +tender of my suffering. He had retired from the practice +of law, and having no family but his aged sisters, he found +it easy to go abroad. So after a little delay necessary to the +arrangement of his affairs he took me to New York and +thence to Liverpool. We were attended only by my nurse, +Pony, and his man-servant, Prince, who, coming from +Blackville, knew nothing of the ordeal through which I had +just passed.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Here Emolyn’s glance falling on the upturned face of +Em., she said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You are looking at me with eyes full of wonder and +pity, my child! Well, let it be so for awhile. You are too +young even to <i>hear</i> the horrors through which I <i>had to pass</i> +when I was younger than you are now. Yet I feel sure, +Em., that some day I shall tell you all.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>A convulsive clasp of her hand by the girl’s fingers was +her only answer.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The lady resumed her story.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It was near the last of July when we landed in Liverpool. +It was perhaps the very best season in which to see +England. Better even than the spring, for midsummer is +never intolerably hot and dry there as it is here. Well, we +spent two months in traveling through England, Wales, +Scotland and Ireland. In the latter part of September we +went to France, where we also spent two months in traveling. +We did not stop in the cities nor enter any society. +Early in December we went to Italy, spent six weeks in +traveling through that loveliest of lands, and then we settled +down in Rome for the winter.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh! Oh! And did you see the Pope? And does he +really wear three crowns on his head, one upon top of the +other?” eagerly interrupted Susan Palmer.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I did not see the Pope. We never tried to see anybody. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_191'>191</span>But I saw the Vatican—the palace where he lives, and I +also saw many grand cathedrals and palaces.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Here again Susan Palmer interrupted the narrator with +a number of questions that compelled Emolyn to describe +the Vatican, the other palaces, cathedrals and churches at +some length.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“In the spring, just before Lent, we saw the carnival +in Rome.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes! I have heard mention made about that. It is +something like a circus and a panorama and a procession, +isn’t it?” inquired Susan.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Like all of them together, with a great many other +spectacles, all on a tremendous scale.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, please tell me all about it,” exclaimed Susan.</p> + +<p class='c009'>So Mrs. Lynn had to recall and describe all the grotesque +and gorgeous phantasmagoria of the carnival at Rome before +her hearer could be satisfied.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Dear, dear me, what it is to be a traveler!” said Susan.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“As the month of May approached I became very nervous +and filled with a horrible despair that threatened my reason. +You know it was the anniversary of my great agony, Mrs. +Palmer. Why, even after all these years I cannot pass it +calmly. And <i>that</i> was the first anniversary.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I know, and I do not wonder at anything, my dear child, +except that you were ever able to live over it at all.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“My guardian was very good to me; may Heaven bless +him! He took me to Venice, the most beautiful and wonderful +city in the world, where there are canals instead of +streets and gondolas instead of carriages.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Lord bless my soul, Miss Emolyn, how was that?” cried +Susan.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Emolyn explained as briefly as she could the building of +Venice upon its cluster of small islands, and then continued:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“We left Italy about the first of June. We spent the +summer in traveling through Russia, Germany, Sweden, +Norway and the Shetland and Orkney Islands. On the +first of September we took a steamer from Glasgow to +Constantinople——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Constantinople!” eagerly interrupted Susan. “Constantinople! +Oh, my goodness gracious me alive! That’s +<span class='pageno' id='Page_192'>192</span>better than the city of the Pope, or the city built on the +sea, either! It is the city of the Grand Turk! Did you +see the Grand Turk? And does he always sit cross-legged +on a gold-fringed rug, with a long shawl rolled around his +head for a turban, and smoking a long pipe, with a golden +bowl and a room full of beautiful girls dancing before +him? And has he really a thousand wives?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I don’t know. I did not see him, but I think it quite +likely,” said Emolyn, with a slight smile.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Think of <i>that</i> now! The pagan Turk to have a thousand +wives, more or less, and the Pope—the poor Pope—to +have not one. The laws ought to be changed! But tell +me what you did see in the city of the Grand Turk. +Though it do seem to me, my dear, that in all your travels +you saw nothing but places and things, not people.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I did not want to see people,” sighed Emolyn.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ah, I know. How thoughtless I am. Go on, my dear +young lady.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Emolyn described Constantinople, with its splendid seraglio, +its magnificent mosques, its squalid streets and mean +dwellings.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Seems to me there’s as much dif’rence between the rich +and the poor in pagan cities as there be in Christian +towns.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Just as much,” said Emolyn with a sigh; and then she +continued—“From Turkey we went to Greece and to the +Ionian Islands, where we spent the second winter of our +travels. In the spring we returned to the United States +because I had come of age and it was necessary for certain +legal forms to be observed by my guardian in turning over +my estates to me. We reached New York about the middle +of May, and went down to Wynde Slopes in Maryland. +But, oh, my dear friend, I was scarcely put in possession +of my property before I lost my beloved guardian and last +remaining friend. He passed away at Wynde Slopes after +a short and painless illness, and it is my comfort to think +he entered at once into his eternal rest. You know, by the +terms of my father’s will, I was to be considered of age at +eighteen. I was but a few weeks over that age when my +dear guardian left me.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, Miss Emolyn! He was a good man. I heard from +<span class='pageno' id='Page_193'>193</span>Pony of all his devotion to you while you were in your +trouble. Do go on, Miss Emolyn, and excuse my interrupting +of you.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, my dear Susan, what I have to tell you now cannot +be dwelt upon in detail. I sold Wynde Slopes, for I could +not bear that my name, all blurred as it was with falsehood +and wrong, should remain connected with my father’s old +ancestral home.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But however came you to find out about this beautiful +island, honey?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Emolyn smiled.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It was not a beautiful island when I found it, Susan; +but the way was this: In my restlessness I was a rambler. +I had besides a feeling of affectionate curiosity to see the +old Wilderness manor-house, in which my mother had been +born and been brought up. I came to Greyrock, accompanied +by Pony, and rode over to the Wilderness. I saw +the house. It had long been vacant, the master being then +in Europe. I did not divulge my name to the old servants, +nor my relationship to their master; yet, with the courtesy +they always show to strangers, they took me all over the +premises, showed me all I wished to see, told me all I wished +to hear. I returned to Greyrock that night. I had intended +to leave the place early the next morning; but both +in going to and coming from the Wilderness I had taken +the river road, and seen from its banks the desolate, rocky +island. It took my fancy and haunted me even after I +had gone home to Greyrock and gone to bed.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And so you thought you would like to make that desert +bloom and blossom as the rose, Miss Emolyn?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, Susan; and I thought I would like to make a home +there, where I and Pony could come and rest sometimes, +‘the world forgetting, by the world forgot.’ In a word, before +I left the neighborhood I had purchased the barren +island for a mere trifle, but all that it was worth at the +time. It would never have paid as a plantation, Susan; +but it was well adapted to the metamorphosis I made of it, +by the three potent genii—Labor, Time and Money. Fifteen +years ago it was a barren rock. You see what it is +now.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It is a paradise now,” said Susan with enthusiasm.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_194'>194</span>“Yet a paradise that could not hold my restless spirit +long. After spending one year here I left it in careful +hands and resumed my travels, this second time accompanied +only by Pony and such stranger guides and couriers +as I could pick up <i>en route</i>.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Emolyn here paused so long that Susan Palmer inquired:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And where did you go, Miss Emolyn? Seems to me as +you had seen all the world before.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Not a hundredth part of it, Susan. But I did not go +over the same ground. I sailed for Glasgow and then, +without even landing, took ship for Christiana, Norway, +and traveled over the extreme northern part of Europe, +dwelling in the huts of the Lapps and Finns and making +reindeer journeys from place to place. I saw the midnight +sun.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“<span class='sc'>The midnight sun, Miss Emolyn!</span>” exclaimed Susan +in open-mouthed amazement.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, Susan—it is a sublime and wonderful sight in +those regions of eternal snow.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oome, I feared the poor lady was just a little demented, +and now I know it,” thought Susan mournfully.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I passed through Russia and into Siberia, a voluntary +exile. I spent a long summer on those savage steppes——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Steps!” muttered Susan to herself with a sigh.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And then I moved southward without stopping until we +reached Alexandria, in Egypt.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“‘Alexandria, in Egypt!’ Ah, dear, dear, how her mind +wanders. Everybody knows Alexandria is in old Virginy,” +moaned Susan to herself.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am fatiguing you,” said Mrs. Lynn, perceiving her +companion’s uneasiness. “I must be brief, Susan, and tell +you in a few words that since that time, with the exception +of an occasional summer of rest on the island here, I have +spent all my days in travel. I have been all over the civilized +and uncivilized world. I have been where few men +and no women have ever gone before me—from Greenland +to Terra del Fuego; from Behring Straits to Bermuda +Isles on this hemisphere; from Cape North to Cape Colony, +and from the coast of Guinea to the Sea of Kamtschatka on +the other.”</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_195'>195</span>“What a life!” exclaimed Susan with a great sigh. “But +of all the countries and the people that you saw, which did +you like the best, Miss Emolyn?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You will be surprised when you hear—I liked best to +dwell among the Lapps and Finns!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Susan was not surprised, for she had got so “mixed in +her mind,” as she said, that she really did not know but that +the Lapps and Finns were the most enlightened of European +people instead of being northern barbarians.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I have been to this island more regularly to spend the +summers for the last few years until this year, when business +connected with my inheritance of the Wilderness +Manor detained me elsewhere until the first of October.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And to think, Miss Emolyn, that the very first thing +you did after entering upon that inheritance was to think +of us in our poverty, that poor, squalid Laundry Lane, and +to bring us to this beautiful, wholesome country,” said +Susan Palmer gratefully.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It is true that my very first thought <i>was</i> of you,” admitted +Emolyn.</p> + +<p class='c009'>At that moment a distant clock chimed out musically the +hour of noon.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now, my little namesake, go find your father and bring +him to the house to lunch with us,” said the lady.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. immediately arose and left the room to do this +errand. She went into the hall, where she found her hat +and shawl hung on an artistic tree carved out of malachite. +She put them on hastily, and ran out to seek her father, +whom she expected to find near the boat-landing.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Meantime the two women, left alone together, looked +into each other’s faces as if each expected a confidence from +the other.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Susan was the first to speak.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now, Miss Emolyn, that she is gone and we are by ourselves, +tell me why you have never been able to get over your +trouble during all these long years?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Emolyn shuddered and covered her eyes with her hands.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, I have hurt you, Miss Emolyn. I am so sorry. +I beg you to forgive me. I ought not to have asked you a +question. But, dear Miss Emolyn, still you ought not to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_196'>196</span>take that old sorrow so much to heart, innocent as I know +you to be.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, Susan, Susan! No one could ever entirely recover +from such a blasting affliction as mine was!” cried the unhappy +lady.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Not even when you know you was innocent, Miss +Emolyn?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No—not even then! But, Susan, there is the horror of +it. I do not know that I am innocent!” exclaimed Emolyn, +with a low moan of anguish.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, my dear young lady, what<i>ever</i> do you mean?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, Susan, Susan! After all I may have—<i>hurt my +child</i>!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, Miss Emolyn, you never, never did! I would stake +<i>my soul</i> that you never did. (This is an awful symptom of +derangement.) You never did, Miss Emolyn. You have +thought about it so much that you have got heartsick and +brainsick, and ready to accuse yourself. Don’t think about +it any more, Miss Emolyn. You were right to travel, after +all. Oh, pray don’t let your thoughts dwell upon it any +longer, Miss Emolyn. Put it out of your mind!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But, Susan, I cannot. It is a haunting horror. I +could—I think I could get over even the diabolical memory +of my trial if only I were quite sure I never harmed my +child. But oh, Susan—on that awful night when she was +born there were hours of agony, followed by hours of unconsciousness! +There may have been between the agony +and the unconsciousness moments of delirium in which I +might have harmed my innocent, helpless child! I do not +remember. But then, you know, Susan, that people recovering +from delirium never know or recollect what passed +during the fit. <i>I might have killed my own child!</i> Oh, +Heaven! Oh, Heaven! What a haunting horror that +thought is to all my days and nights!” moaned the miserable +woman, swaying herself back and forth and covering +her face with her hands.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Miss Emolyn, my child, be comforted! You are clear +of that sin! As sure as I am a living woman you have +only brooded and brooded over this until you have got +almost insane! Now think of this, Miss Emolyn! When +you were first accused your mind was clear enough on the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_197'>197</span>subject. You knew then that you had never hurt your child, +and you affirmed it most positive and distinct to every one; +and everybody believed you, too! Now this crazy notion of +yours has only come of brooding over it.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, Susan, is that possible?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Why, yes, ma’am! I have heard of such cases often +and often! You aught to speak to a physician, Miss +Emolyn. Here’s Dr. Willet quite convenient. Did you +know he was in the neighborhood, Miss Emolyn?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, I knew he was there. He has been to see me on +this island.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, then, honey, speak to him.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Perhaps. But, oh, Susan, who can ‘minister to a mind +diseased?’ And, Susan,” she continued, sinking her voice +to a whisper, “if <i>I</i> did not harm my child, <i>who did</i>? The +child was strangled, Susan! <i>Who did it?</i>”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ah, dear knows, Miss Emolyn, honey!” sighed the +woman. “You must pray!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I ‘must pray.’ Perhaps some late remorse—some deathbed +confession—may bring out the truth and give me +peace!”</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XXIV<br> <span class='c006'>A GOOD FAIRY</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c007'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>A smile of hers is like an act of grace;</div> + <div class='line'>For when she smiles, a light is on her face,</div> + <div class='line'>A clear, cool kindliness, a lunar beam</div> + <div class='line'>Of peaceful radiance, silvering o’er the stream</div> + <div class='line'>Of human thought with an abiding glory,</div> + <div class='line'>Not quite a waking truth, nor quite a dream—</div> + <div class='line'>A visitation bright and transitory.</div> + <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>H. Coleridge.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c008'>The conversation between the Lady of Edengarden and +her visitor continued until the return of Em., conducting +her father.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“This is my husband, madam. John, this is our Lady +<span class='pageno' id='Page_198'>198</span>of the Manor,” said Susan Palmer, presenting the new arrival +to her hostess.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am very glad to see you, Mr. Palmer. I remember +you quite well. You are not at all changed, except for the +better. You are stouter and—taller, I almost think,” said +Emolyn, holding out her hand.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am stronger, madam, and more erect, thanks to the +mountain air and your bounty,” said John, as he respectfully +received and bowed over the little hand held out to +him.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. placed a chair for her father, and as he sat down +upon it she took his hat from his hands and carried it out +to the tree in the hall.</p> + +<p class='c009'>At the same moment Emolyn touched a bell that brought +her page to her presence.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Order luncheon to be served at once,” she said.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The young Mercury flew on his errand.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Emolyn filled up the short interval by talking to her +visitor about the old Wilderness manor-house and its historical +associations.</p> + +<p class='c009'>And then the boy returned and announced the repast +in readiness.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Come, friends,” said Emolyn, drawing the arm of her +young namesake within her own and leading the way, followed +by John and Susan.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The lady conducted her guests through a suite of sumptuous +rooms, each succeeding one seeming more splendid than +the other, until at length they reached a small but elegant +dining-room, in the midst of which stood the lunch-table, +laid for four, covered with the finest white damask, furnished +with Sèvres china, Bohemian glass and silver, and +provided with substantial fare, as well as with delicate +viands.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The lady of the house made Em. sit on her right hand, +on one side of the oval table, while John and Susan sat +opposite on the other side.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The young page waited on the party.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The unaffected kindness and simplicity of Emolyn’s manner +put her visitors quite at their ease, so that perhaps +never was a repast more enjoyed than was this lunch by +John and Susan.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_199'>199</span>As for Em., girl-like, she keenly appreciated dainty items +in the feast—the potted meats and fish, the West India +preserves and fruits and the French confections and chocolate.</p> + +<p class='c009'>When the collation was over Emolyn led her friends +back to the parlor, and calling her little page to her, said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I want you to tell Pony to come here and see an old +acquaintance.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>The boy left the room, and the party in the parlor had +scarcely settled into their seats when the door opened and +a tall, stout, handsome mulatto woman, becomingly dressed +in a scarlet French calico, with a black silk apron, white +collar and cuffs, white turban and large gold hoop earrings, +entered.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Why, Pony! Oh, Pony, I am <i>so</i> delighted to see you!” +gushed Susan, starting up and holding out her hand to the +newcomer.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“So is I, you, Mrs. Palmer! ’Pon my word, how well +you does look, to be sure!” exclaimed the woman, heartily +shaking the offered hand.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Is that young gal your darter?” she then inquired, +turning her bright black eyes on the girl.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes—that’s Em.! named after your mistress, Pony. +Come here, Em. and get acquainted with the best friend +I ever had in the world except Miss Wyndeworth,” continued +Susan, beckoning to her daughter.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. came up and offered her hand, saying:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I have heard about you all my life, Aunt Melpomene, +and you look just as I supposed you would. I never did +hope to have the pleasure of seeing you face to face; but, +oh, I am so glad to meet you now!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“So am I you, miss. But, law—did anybody <i>ever</i> see +such a likeness in this world?” exclaimed, the woman, +almost staring the girl out of countenance.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“As between this lady and myself?” she replied, with a +blush and smile of embarrassment. “Oh, yes, I have heard +it commented upon by so many people—all, I think, whoever +chanced to see us both.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes,” added Susan, laughing, “and I have expounded +and explained how it was until I am tired. Why, Pony, +woman, why shouldn’t my child be the very image of your +<span class='pageno' id='Page_200'>200</span>young mistress when I had her face in my mind for months +before this child arrived.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, it’s made her mighty pretty, and that’s the solemn +truth,” said the woman gravely. “But I’ll tell you what, +Miss Em., beauty is a great snare to the young, and unless +it is supported by Christian grace, my honey, it is likely +to fetch more misery than happiness.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“‘Sich is life,’” said John sententiously.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, I declare I forgot—Pony, you remember my husband, +don’t you?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Who—Mr. Palmer? Why, to be sure I do! I hope I +find you well, sir! But my, how stout and portable you +have got to be, sir!” exclaimed Pony, turning her attention +now to the overseer.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am sure I can return the compliment,” said John, +laughing.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, you see, sir, we colored female women folks, when +we keeps in good health, and is in peace with the Lord and +the neighbor, is most in general ’clined to wax fat as we +grow old,” replied Pony, showing all her teeth.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“‘Sich is life,’” said John solemnly.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Indeed, and that is very true, sir, if we could only live +up to it,” remarked Pony.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“<i>You</i> have seen a great deal of the world since <i>I</i> saw <i>you</i>, +Pony,” put in Susan.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I b’lieve you, ma’am! Me and my mist’ess ’mind me +more of ole Satan in Job than anything else in de world—a +‘walking up and down in the earth and going to and fro +in it.’ Yes, ma’am, me and mist’ess has been all over the +universe, from Dansheba to de Debbil’s Icy Peek!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“She means that I have been the tormenting Satan and +she has been the patient Job,” explained Mrs. Lynn with a +smile, adding: “Now, Pony, we will detain you no longer +from your lunch.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>The woman took a laughing leave of her old friends and +left the room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Then Emolyn turned to Mr. and Mrs. Palmer, and addressing +both, said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now, my dear old friends, I wish to make a proposal +to you that I earnestly hope may meet your views. I have +a pleasant home here—very pleasant and healthy at all +<span class='pageno' id='Page_201'>201</span>seasons of the year—but I am very lonely. I want a young +and agreeable companion to share my solitude, and for such +a one I should try to provide a happy home and instructive +and profitable occupation and amusement. Your sweet girl +here suits me precisely. If only I can make myself and +home as attractive to her as she is to me, and if I can gain +your approval, I wish to receive my young namesake in +my house, on the footing of a daughter, a younger sister, +pupil, companion—anything you wish, and on any terms +you may please to suggest.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You know, my dear Miss Emolyn, as far as I am concerned, +you are heartily welcome to Em.’s company on your +own terms. It is not for us to dictate to you,” said Susan +Palmer cordially.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Emolyn, smiling, replied:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You shall never have cause to regret the confidence you +repose in me, Mrs. Palmer.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, I know that, Miss Emolyn. I know that.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>John Palmer as yet had said nothing.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em., watching her father, felt a growing uneasiness.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Emolyn came to the rescue by turning and inquiring of +the silent man:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“What do <i>you</i> think, Mr. Palmer?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I think, my dear lady, that we are all of us under very +deep obligations to you; more, indeed, than we can ever +hope to repay. As to our girl, I feel that you wish to take +her quite as much for her own sake as for yours. But, +madam, this is sudden, and under your favor, I think we all +of us—your honored self as well as the rest—had better +take a day or two to reflect before deciding,” replied John.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Very well. How long will you want to reflect on this, +Mr. Palmer?” inquired Emolyn.</p> + +<p class='c009'>(“Oh, the old aggravating, cud-chewing cow! He’ll +diddle Em. out of her good fortune yet with his reflection,” +thought Susan Palmer to herself, feeling more impatience +at her patient husband than she had ever felt before.)</p> + +<p class='c009'>John thought a moment before answering the lady’s +question, and then lifting his head, he inquired:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Will to-morrow evening suit you, madam, to receive +our decision?”</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_202'>202</span>“Thanks, yes, quite well, and I trust it will be a favorable +one.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I hope, my dear lady, that you know we are all very +sensible of your great kindness to us,” said John, rising +from his seat.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, say no more about that, my good friend,” replied +Emolyn.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I thank you, madam. We will think the more then +if we speak the less. And now, my dear lady, we must say +good-by, and be getting back to the manor-house,” said +John respectfully.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Must you, indeed? I had hoped to detain you all day. +I do not like to part with this dear child, who, I feel sure, +reciprocates my affection,” said Emolyn warmly.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em., who was sitting by her side, impulsively raised the +lady’s hand and pressed it warmly to her lips as in confirmation +of the words.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, why can you not stay till evening? There is no +moon, to be sure, but then the clear starlight nights are +very brilliant, and the river is as smooth as a mirror,” +pleaded Emolyn, with more earnestness than the occasion +seemed to warrant, as she clasped and held Em.’s hand.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, you see, ma’am, we left a very sick woman in our +house, Ann Whitlock, who has been with us so long that +she seems like a relation,” Susan explained.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ann Whitlock?” inquired Emolyn musingly.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Why, my dear young lady, she was the sick-nurse that +was with your uncle in his latter days, you know.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, to be sure!” said Emolyn thoughtfully.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And after that she was nurse in the same hospital where +I was a patient. And she saved little Em.’s life, as I explained +to you once, ma’am.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, yes, I remember,” sighed Emolyn.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And since then me and John have felt she had a claim +on us, and we have taken care of her in her old days.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“That was very sweet of you, Susan Palmer! And she +is sick now, you say?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, ma’am, very much so. She had a paralytic stroke +yesterday while Em. was here. To be sure, she has rallied +a little, and the doctor thinks there’s no present danger of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_203'>203</span>death. Still, nobody can tell. So you see, ma’am, we must +not leave her all day.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I see,” said the lady thoughtfully. And she touched +the bell that brought her young page to her presence.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She gave him an order in a low voice, and he left the +room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Em., get our things,” said Susan Palmer.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The girl went and brought them.</p> + +<p class='c009'>While Em. and her mother were putting on their shawls +and hats the page returned, bringing a hamper of wine, +which he set down on the carpet before his mistress.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Susan Palmer,” said the lady, “when my uncle was +paralyzed the doctor ordered him to drink champagne as +freely as water. You know it kept him alive for many +months, if it could not cure him. Take this to your invalid +and give it to her freely. When it is nearly gone let me +know and I will send another hamper.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, Miss Emolyn, how thankful I am! And how grateful +poor Ann Whitlock will be! Heaven bless you, my +dear! How like you this is!” exclaimed Susan fervently.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“The boy will take it down to the boat for you.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Much obliged, my dear lady, but I am a deal better able +to carry it than the boy, and with your good leave I will do +it,” said John.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“As you please, Mr. Palmer.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Good-by, my dear Miss Emolyn. May you be very +happy for all the rest of your life! Oh, for years and years +after we lost sight of you my prayers went up day and night +that I might see you once more before I died until at last +we all gave you up for dead; then I stopped praying for +you. But now, Miss Emolyn, that I have the joy of seeing +you again, I shall pray day and night to the Lord to bless +you and to make you happy!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes. Pray for me, dear good woman. Oh, how I need +your prayers!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Good-by, dear lady. I feel that you will be happy some +of these days. Unhappiness cannot last forever in any +one experience. There must be change. ‘Sich is life,’” +said John, as he shook hands with his gracious hostess.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. approached also to take leave; but the lady drew +the girl to her bosom and kissed her fondly, saying:</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_204'>204</span>“You must persuade your parents to let you come to me, +my darling. Strange how near you feel to me; but perhaps +that is my own egotism because you bear my name and +some striking resemblance to me.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I shall be sure to come back to you, dear lady. I never +broke a promise in my life, and I promise to come back to +you,” whispered Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I shall rest on that promise. Now go; your parents +are waiting for you,” said Emolyn, as she pressed a kiss +upon the girl’s brow and so dismissed her.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. followed her father and mother as they left the +house, John carrying the hamper of wine.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I don’t see why you could not have given Miss Emolyn +her answer about Em. at once. You needn’t have put on +airs with that lady, John, talking about taking time for reflection +and all that—when you know very well that you +intend to let her go,” said Susan, as the three walked +rapidly toward the boat.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Indeed, then, Susan, I am not sure that I shall let her +go at all!” said John very gravely.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“<i>Oh, father!</i>” exclaimed Em. in a voice of despair.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I think is most likely I shall do so, though, my dear. +So don’t be troubled. I think I shall let you go; but there +is nothing certain in this world; and I must have some +conversation with your mother first.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>They walked so rapidly that they soon reached the landing.</p> + +<p class='c009'>John Palmer hastened to place his wife and daughter in +their seats and then to unmoor the boat and push it from +the shore.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. took the tiller and steered for the Wilderness landing.</p> + +<p class='c009'>John laid himself vigorously to both oars, and they sped +swiftly on their way home.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Susan talked incessantly on the way up the river, and the +burden of her conversation was “Miss Emolyn Wyndeworth” +and her strange and tragic story.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“The people about here call her Mrs. Lynn! That’s +<i>their</i> mistake, not Miss Emolyn’s doings. But I always <i>did</i> +call her Miss Emolyn, and I suppose I shall to the end of +my days,” she said, among countless other observations.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_205'>205</span>John said but little in response and Em. nothing. She +was absorbed in her own reflections.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The sun was low when they reached the Wilderness landing.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It has taken us the whole day, after all; but Lord +knows, we needn’t regret it, after what we have seen,” said +John Palmer, as he drew in his oars, laid one down in the +bottom of the boat, and using the other as a pole, pushed +it up on the sands.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, indeed, we needn’t regret our visit if only we find +our poor, old, sick woman hasn’t suffered through our +going,” added Susan, as she climbed upon the shore, followed +by Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Leaving the father to secure the boat, the mother and +daughter walked rapidly up the weed-grown, leaf-strewn +path that led through the autumn woods to the park gate.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Here they were met by old ’Sias, whom they found standing, +leaning over the bars, talking to his sister Sally.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Dr. Willy waitin’ for you up to de house, honey, and I +jes’ run down here to de gate to see if you was coming,” +said Sally, while ’Sias opened the gate to admit them.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Dr. Willet here again! Is Ann Whitlock worse?” inquired +Susan in alarm, as she entered the park.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Laws, no, honey; it is only his goodness to come ag’in. +He’s a nice, quiet ge’man, honey, as ever I see in my life. +I warrant you now he never does nuffin to nobody,” said +Sally.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And jes’ as ’tentive to ole Miss Whitlock’s if she was +a p’incess in her own palace, ’stead o’ being of a poor ’pendent +hanging on to you. I ’clare I never see nuffin like it +in all de days of my life, and dat’s a hundred and fifty +years, more or less, honey, more or less,” solemnly exclaimed +the old gatekeeper.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now go away from here, Jose<i>phi</i>as Elphine! Hundred +and fifty years, indeed! We is twin sisters, you and me; +and I know I ain’t no hundred and fifty year old, neither +more <i>nor</i> less, I tell you all good,” indignantly protested +Sally.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Come, mother, let us go on to the house,” said Em., +anxious to see her patient.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Don’t run away, honey,” exclaimed Sally, mistaking the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_206'>206</span>young girl’s motives. “Don’t be feared of me. I don’t +mean no harm. I never does nuffin to nobody, honey, only +I <i>must</i> chas<i>tise</i> ’Sias for his braggin’ lies.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Come along with us, Aunt Sally, I want you,” said +Susan, as she followed Em., who was walking rapidly up +the grass-grown drive toward the house.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The three were soon overtaken by the long strides of +John Palmer, who came up with the hamper of champagne +on his shoulder.</p> + +<p class='c009'>At the house-door they were met by Dr. Willet, who +cordially shook hands with John and Susan and patted +Em. on the head in a fatherly fashion.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I think the old woman is doing very well under the +circumstances,” he said in answer to Susan’s inquiry.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Then Mrs. Palmer spoke of the timely present of wine, +made by the Lady of Edengarden, and asked the doctor if +it might be freely given to the patient.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Indeed, yes, it is what I should have ordered if I had +dreamed of its being attainable here,” he replied.</p> + +<p class='c009'>And then, resisting all kind invitations to re-enter the +house, he mounted his horse, that stood waiting, bowed +adieux and rode away.</p> + +<p class='c009'>John carried his hamper of wine into the kitchen, followed +by Susan and Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>He put it down on the floor, opened it and drew out a +bottle.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Here, Susan,” he said, “take this right up to the old +woman and give her a drink at once.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Come, Em.,” said the good mother, hurrying from the +room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>They found Mrs. Whitlock conscious, though unable to +speak.</p> + +<p class='c009'>They gave her a large goblet full of the sparkling wine, +Em. holding her up while Susan placed the glass at her +lips.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Then they proceeded to arrange her bed and room and +to mend the fire, and make all comfortable.</p> + +<p class='c009'>It was not until all the family had retired to bed, with +the exception of the parents, that John and Susan discussed +the subject of Em.’s removal to Edengarden.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now you have a chance, John, I want you to tell me +<span class='pageno' id='Page_207'>207</span>why you stood shilly-shallying and hem-hawing about letting +Em. go to that lady?” said Susan, as they drew their +chairs in to the fire.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, you see, Susan, I like that lady, and pity her, +and thank her, all in one; and I would do a great deal for +her—anything for her, but send our daughter to live with +her unless—unless—Susan—well, unless you can insure me +that she was as innocent as our girl herself of all the wrong-doing——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Poor John had meant to put his question as delicately, +as mildly and as gently as he could possibly do; yet Susan +flew at him before he could complete his sentence.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“John Palmer, what <i>do</i> you mean? Have you clean +taken leave of your senses? But men are <i>such</i> fools! +Innocent? Miss Emolyn innocent? Oh, there is not a +single speck on her soul’s white garments, man!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now don’t get excited, Susan, my dear. If you feel +sure she was innocent, then we will let her have our girl. +That was all I wanted to know,” said John deprecatingly.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I know that she is as pure as an angel! I would stake +my salvation on her purity! And besides, John Palmer, +didn’t you hear me yourself say, over and over again, how +anxious I was to have Em. go? <i>Yes, you did.</i> And now +do you dare to suppose that I, her mother, would be less +careful of my daughter than you, who are nothing but just +her father? I <i>am</i> astonished at you, John Palmer! But, +as I said before, men <i>are</i> such fools we can hardly hold ’em +to ’count for what they say and do, so women must be patient +with ’em,” said Susan, rising to cover up the fire.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Nobody but my wife never called me a fool; but ‘sich is +life,’” sighed John Palmer, as he relieved Susan of the +shovel and covered up the fire himself.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XXV<br> <span class='c006'>EM.’S NEW HOME</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c007'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>Oh, brightly is bedeck’d your bower, and gorgeously your halls;</div> + <div class='line'>Here treads the foot on springing buds, and there on velvet falls:</div> + <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_208'>208</span>The massive curtains’ graceful flow, the vase, the painting warm;</div> + <div class='line'>Those household echoes, mirrors bright, revealing the fair form;</div> + <div class='line'>Exotics that perfume the air with odors sweet and strange,</div> + <div class='line'>And shells that far in foreign climes mid ocean wonders range,</div> + <div class='line'>With countless gifts of taste and art, in classic beauty rife,</div> + <div class='line'>Are laid upon your household shrine, and grace your daily life.</div> + <div class='line in46'><span class='sc'>Gilman.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c008'>Tired as she was with her unusual exertions, before she +slept that night Susan Palmer ran up the attic stairs to +her daughter’s chamber to communicate the good news that +was to make Em. so happy.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The door was closed, but not locked, so she opened it +and walked in.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She found that Em. had gone to bed but not to sleep. +She immediately sat down beside the bed, and in answer +to the girl’s eager, questioning eyes, she said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, my dear, your father has given his consent for +you to go.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. started and threw her arms around her mother’s +neck, exclaiming:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, how glad I am! It was you, dear, I know it was, +who got him to consent at last. But oh, dear mother, you +will not think I love you any the less because I want to go +to that desolate Lady of Edengarden, <i>will</i> you, mother +dear?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Nonsense, girl, of course not! You’ll love us as much, +and even more, when you get away from us than you do +now. Why, law! when I was younger than you are now I +was crazy to go out to service; and when I did, I found +that I loved my home and my mother better than I had +ever done before. I sha’n’t be jealous, Em.,” laughed +Susan.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I don’t know why I should want to go, either; but that +dear lady is so lonely, so desolate, my heart goes out to her, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_209'>209</span>mother. Think of it, she has no family circle, no visitors, +no society, no one but her colored servants!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It is her own choice, Em.; yet I do wonder at the shyness +that makes her keep herself unknown even to old +Commodore Bruce, who used to know her when she was +a child, and who was just as fond of her as if she had been +his own. I do wonder at that!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Mother dear,” exclaimed Em. suddenly, “don’t you remember +she said Dr. Willet had been to see her?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, yes. Dr. Willet was one of her oldest and best +friends, and stood by her manfully in her worst troubles. +But for a long time after she disappeared not even <i>he</i> knew +what had become of her; however, I dare say she notified +him afterward, although he never said anything about it, +being bound over to secrecy, most likely.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, but, mother dear, Dr. Willet is staying at Commodore +Bruce’s, and don’t you think he will tell the old +commodore, who has so long mourned Emolyn as dead, that +she is really alive and within his reach?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, no, no, Dr. Willet will never do so without the +lady’s consent—never!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, what a pity it is that she so secludes herself from +all who would love her!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, it is, Em., a crying pity. If you should get any +influence over her, Em., you must try to coax her out of all +that.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, I will, I will, dear mother. I will do all in my +little power for that lady. It is so strange, but she feels +inexpressibly near and dear to me,” said the girl tenderly.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am glad to hear you say so, Em. And now, my dear, +as you sat up all last night with Mrs. Whitlock, you must +really go to sleep. Good-night, and God bless you, my +dear,” said Susan Palmer, as she kissed her daughter and +left the room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The next morning, true to his promise, John Palmer authorized +Em. to write a note of acceptance to the Lady of +Edengarden, and to send it by the old gatekeeper in his +boat.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. joyfully obeyed, and penned the grateful missive, +inquiring at its close when the lady would like that she +should come.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_210'>210</span>Old ’Sias took charge of the note and started to deliver +it.</p> + +<p class='c009'>But the old man was feeble and slow at the oars, so that +he took nearly the whole day to do his errand, and the +family had finished supper, cleared up the kitchen and +gathered around the blazing wood fire, occupied with their +evening work—the women and girls knitting and sewing, +the men and boys mending harness and carving out wooden +bolts—when ’Sias walked in, bringing a letter, which he +handed to Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Did you see the lady?” she eagerly inquired as she +opened the note.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, honey, I didn’t see nobody but a mons’ous handsome, +bright ’latto ’oman. Handsome as a queen, honey—de +Queen o’ Sheba in all her glory—which she tell me, +honey, as her name was Mellow Ponies. ’Deed, if I had +cotch my eye on <i>her</i> ’fore I ebber seed Sereny——But +’tain’t no use talking ’bout dat now. On’y if the ’Vine +Marster <i>was</i> to ’flict me wid de loss ob Sereny——But +all dat’s wanity and wexation of de sperrits,” concluded +the old man with a sigh.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Meanwhile Em. read her note, which she presently passed +to her mother, saying:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“She wants me to come on Thursday, mother, and this +is Tuesday evening, you know.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, my girl, that will give you a day to get ready, and +I will help you,” answered Susan. Then quickly turning to +the old gatekeeper, said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“’Sias, stop! I want to send a message by you. Tell +your wife Sereny that if she will come and sit up with our +sick woman to-night she shall be paid well for it.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Berry well, ma’am, sartin. And dat will be a great deliverance +for me of one night, anyhow!” exclaimed the old +man as he retreated.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The following day was spent by the mother and all her +daughters in looking over, doing up and packing Em.’s +simple wardrobe, ready for use in her new home.</p> + +<p class='c009'>That night, being the last one previous to her departure, +Em. sat up with Ann Whitlock until near day, when she +was relieved by Monica.</p> + +<p class='c009'>It was a glorious autumn day, near the last of October, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_211'>211</span>when Em. took leave of her mother and sisters to set out +for her new home.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now you know, dear mother, the lady said in her note +that she hoped you would come and spend a day with us +just as often as you could, the oftener the better,” said the +girl, lovingly lingering over her leavetaking.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, Em.,” replied Susan.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Also she said that whenever I should feel the least homesick, +I should come to you for a few days.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, Em.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And whenever you might feel like wanting me at home +you were to send for me and I should come.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, Em.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Then you won’t feel lonesome for me, mother dear?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, you goose! There, don’t worry about me! You +didn’t make half so much fuss about leaving home when +you went to The Breezes, though that was the very first +time you ever left us! There! God bless you, my good +child, good-by. I shall come to hear the blind preacher of +the island Sunday, and then I shall see you and your sweet +lady, too,” said Susan, pressing her daughter to her heart +in a final embrace.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. turned away, and, escorted by her father, walked +quickly down the leaf-strewn road leading through the +park.</p> + +<p class='c009'>It was true! Em. felt more disturbed at leaving home +now on this second time than she had done on the first—even +though now she was going to live with one to whom +her affections were strangely and strongly attracted. It +may have been that in the depths of her spirit she had unacknowledged +previsions that this was a final departure +from her home, that never again would she re-enter her +father’s house except as a visitor.</p> + +<p class='c009'>John walked on silently for a while, but just before they +got to the park gate, where old ’Sias stood in attendance, +he said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Em., my child, don’t forget us in your fine new home.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, dear, dear, good, best father, never, never, never! +How could you think I would? No, I will write to you +twice a week, at least, and send the letter by a special messenger, +for I feel that my lady will indulge me in that!”</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_212'>212</span>“No, Em., don’t you do it! Don’t give so much extra +trouble in a strange house. I am satisfied with what you +say, my girl. I know you will not forget us!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>By this time they had reached the gate, which ’Sias had +set wide open for their egress.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Good-by, Uncle ’Sias. You must sometimes get in your +boat and come to see me in my new home,” said Em., holding +out her hand.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Good-by, Miss Em. Surely I’ll come to see you. Give +my despectful compliments to Miss Mellow Ponies! If +ever de ’Vine Marster was to ’flict me wid de ’reavement ob +Sereny—but dere! I won’t say nuffin more ’bout dat. It’s +permature!” added the old man, as he flourished his hat +in a final adieu.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The father and daughter walked down to the shore, where +they found the two boys mounting guard over Em.’s trunk, +which they had carefully brought down from the house and +deposited in the boat ready for transportation.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. took leave of her brothers and seated herself in the +boat.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Get in, dad, and make yourself comfortable; we’ll unchain +her,” exclaimed Tom.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Mr. Palmer followed this advice and took up the oars, +and as soon as the boat was free he pushed off.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. steered.</p> + +<p class='c009'>There was a strong current down the river, and they +made very rapid progress, and soon touched the island +strand.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“The lady will send two of her men servants down for +my trunk, father. We can safely leave it here in the meantime,” +said Em., as she stepped upon the land.</p> + +<p class='c009'>John nodded and joined her, and they walked together +through the silver girdle, as the belt of maple trees was +called, and thence through the acacia groves and up the +beautiful terraces to the summit of the island, crowned +with its white palace.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The Lady of Edengarden stood at the portal to receive +her new inmate. She came down the steps, greeted John +Palmer courteously, and then took Em. in her arms in a +warm embrace and kissed her on the forehead and lips.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_213'>213</span>“Don’t spoil my girl by petting and indulgence, ma’am,” +said John Palmer, smiling.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“She cannot be spoiled. Nothing can spoil her,” said the +lady earnestly. “But now come in and rest and refresh +yourself before returning, Mr. Palmer.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Thank you, ma’am, but I haven’t time,” replied John, +with a how; and resisting all the lady’s entreaties, he took +leave of her and of his daughter, and retraced his steps to +the boat, followed by two boys whom Emolyn had sent to +bring up her young companion’s trunk.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Come on, my lads, you will have to step into the boat. +There, each of you take hold of the handles at each end and +lift it out. There! All right. Now go on!” said John +Palmer cheerfully.</p> + +<p class='c009'>And having seen the boys start with the trunk, he re-entered +his boat and rowed rapidly for home, feeling content +because Em. was happy.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XXVI<br> <span class='c006'>A FAIRY BOWER</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c007'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>Marble walled and crystal windowed,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Vailed with silken drapery,</div> + <div class='line'>Dressed with ornaments of silver,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Interlaid with gems and gold;</div> + <div class='line'>Filled with carvings from cathedrals,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Rescued in the times of old;</div> + <div class='line'>Eloquent with books and pictures,</div> + <div class='line in2'>All that luxury can afford;</div> + <div class='line'>Warm with statues that Pygmalion</div> + <div class='line in2'>Might have fashioned and adored,</div> + <div class='line'>In the island’s groves and grottoes,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Lovely are the light and gloom,</div> + <div class='line'>Fountains sparkle in the grotto,</div> + <div class='line in2'>And exotics breathe perfume.</div> + <div class='line in34'><span class='sc'>Mackay.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_214'>214</span>“Come, my darling, I wish to show you something,” +said the Lady of Edengarden, as she took the hand of +Emolyn Palmer and led her out of the front door and +down the marble steps to the first terrace, which was still +green and fresh, though all around was touched with frost. +Then she turned her around, and they stood facing the +beautiful windows glistening in the morning sun like alabaster +and rainbows.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Look,” said the lady, pointing to one high, airy white +tower with many windows, whose summit seemed to be +almost up among the clouds.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, I have often gazed at that tower, dear lady! How +elegant it is!” exclaimed Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Look at the top,” said the lady.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, how lovely, with its crystal windows shaded with +rose-colored silk and opening upon marble balconies. It +is like a chamber in Paradise surely. I have often gazed +at it while on my solitary visits to the island, and thought +it was too beautiful, aerial and ideal ever to be used, and +often wondered if any one ever lived in it! The white +tower is the most elegant part of the palace, and that +aerial chamber in the clouds the most beautiful part of the +tower.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It has never been occupied. It is a virgin bower. But +come in and I will take you at once to your apartment,” +murmured Emolyn, as she drew her young companion’s arm +within her own and conducted her into the hall and up +the fairy flight of stairs leading to the upper floors.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I think I know your taste in lodgings. You have a cat-like +love of garrets,” said the lady, smiling.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, yes, indeed I have; but I wonder how you know it, +madam?” exclaimed the girl in open-eyed astonishment.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I think I should have known it by intuition even if your +mother had not told me, as she did,” said the lady, as she +passed the second landing and led her companion still +higher.</p> + +<p class='c009'>They went up to the attic hall, with a floor inlaid of +maple and black walnut; with broad, stained glass windows +at each end, which threw a cathedral light over all, and +doors on each side leading into closed rooms; and, lastly, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_215'>215</span>with one tall and narrow door in the corner, toward which +the lady led her guest.</p> + +<p class='c009'>They passed through it and up a narrow but very pretty +flight of stairs that led them to an upper door, which the +lady opened.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. made an exclamation of surprise and delight.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“This is your apartment, my little love,” said Emolyn.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The simple maiden gazed around her in a perfect ecstasy +of admiration.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The sudden transit from the staircase to this radiant +scene was almost like the work of enchantment.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Now I wish my readers to see this beautiful room in +their mind’s eye as clearly as I saw it.</p> + +<p class='c009'>It was at the top of the highest tower of the Edengarden +Villa. It was a large, lofty, octagon-shaped room, +whose eight sides were filled with high, broad mirrors and +windows, alternating with each other, and all alike draped +with rose-colored silk and white lace curtains to give uniformity. +The floor was covered with a carpet which, from +its hue and softness, seemed formed of blush roses and +water lilies. Elegant cabinets, stands and tables of white +satinwood, inlaid with flowers formed of malachite, mother-of-pearl, +coral and turquoise, stood near the silver-gilded +pillars between the windows and the mirrors.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Sofas, divans and luxurious chairs of white satinwood, +upholstered in rose-colored velvet and white chenille fringe, +sat about in convenient places, inviting repose. Statuettes +of Parian marble—miniature copies of the great masterpieces +of sculpture, and vases of rare Sèvres china, Bohemian +glass, or alabaster, loaded with choice exotics, +adorned the brackets which were attached around the walls.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The ceiling was a cupola, painted in fresco, of opal-tinted +clouds on a pale blue morning sky. But the central +summit of this cupola was a skylight composed of one solid +sheet of thick, clear plate-glass, through which the heavens +could be seen by day or night.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. gazed around on this fairy chamber, too much lost +in admiration even to ask herself whether it were not too +rare and costly, too dainty and delicate for daily use.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“This is your boudoir, my bird. It is the topmost room +in the high tower. But this tower, as you may have observed +<span class='pageno' id='Page_216'>216</span>from seeing it on the outside, is flanked by four +turrets, each with its row of long, narrow windows.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, yes, madam, I have seen them all, and this chamber +lifted up among the clouds, as it seemed to be.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, my dear, now look here. First, these four windows +give you a wide view of the country toward the four +points of the compass. Then these four mirrors between +the windows are on hinges, and behind their silken curtains +open into turret chambers belonging to your suite of apartments. +See here!” she said, gently pushing one of the +mirrors outward and revealing an alcove of pure white silk +and lace in which stood a fairy bed of soft white draperies.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, how lovely!” exclaimed the delighted girl.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now look here,” the lady said, opening a second mirror +and revealing a dressing-room fitted with marble bath, +basins, ewers, bureaus, presses and all conveniences for the +toilet.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Here is everything that even a princess might desire!” +exclaimed Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And here!” continued the lady, turning in a third +mirror, showing a little room fitted up as an oratory, library +or study.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The floor was covered with a carpet of shaded green, +like forest leaves; the walls were lined with white satinwood +shelves, filled with choice books; in the middle of the +room stood an elegant rosewood writing-table, covered with +a richly-embroidered green cloth. Near the table stood an +ebony-backed reading chair, cushioned with green and gold; +under the window, which was draped with green and gold +fringe velvet, stood a lounge in the same colors.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, this is like the inside of an elegant casket!” exclaimed +Em. with enthusiasm.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, it is a casket, and there are the jewels,” said the +lady, pointing to the books. “And now let me show you +the fourth turret room,” she continued, leading Em. to the +only remaining mirror. Turning it inward, she revealed +the fairy-like, spiral staircase by which they had ascended +to this floor, and by which she now proposed that they +should mount still higher to the observatory.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. followed her conductress up an aerial flight of steps +<span class='pageno' id='Page_217'>217</span>and through a stained glass window, which the lady slid +aside, and thence out upon the top of the tower.</p> + +<p class='c009'>It was round. The center was formed of the clear glass +crystal that gave light to the chamber below. Around this +crystal was a slender ring of white marble balustrades; +around that a marble walk; outside the walk a row of white +benches, and around the edge of the tower a circular colonnade +so massive as to insure the safety even of a sleepwalker, +if such should venture upon the giddy height.</p> + +<p class='c009'>But the grand view, north, east, south, west, from that +high and central point! There was the island immediately +beneath, with its lovely grounds; the river all around; the +wooded banks; the distant mountains!</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Em.,” exclaimed Mrs. Lynn, “you can see The Breezes, +Commodore Bruce’s place, and the Wilderness Manor-house, +and even the spire of Gray Rock church from this point.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, it is grand! It is glorious!” exclaimed Em. in delight.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“When you wish to leave the world far below you, you +can come up here to meditate, read, sew, sketch, dream, do +as you please.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It is like a place in a vision!” murmured Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And now, dear, we will go down,” said Mrs. Lynn, leading +the way.</p> + +<p class='c009'>When they had reached the beautiful octagon chamber, +Em. said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“The season is late autumn, and the weather seems cold +outside, yet the temperature in here is that of summer, although +I see no means of heating this charming place.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Do you not?” inquired the lady, smiling.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, indeed.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“What do you take this to be?” she asked, pointing to a +piece of furniture that looked like a large pedestal and +vase of alabaster and Bohemian glass and stood near the +center of the room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“That? Why, an elegant flower stand, to be sure!” said +Em., wondering.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Why, so it is in summer; but in autumn and winter +we put it to a different use. Lay your hand on it—lightly, +Em.”</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_218'>218</span>The girl placed her hand on the pedestal and quickly +withdrew it, exclaiming:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It is hot!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, and it heats the room. It is one of those porcelain +stoves, such as those with which the Russian palaces are +partly heated. And see, dear, the vase on top is kept full +of rose-water, which diffuses both moisture and perfume +throughout the atmosphere.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, how perfect! I could not have conceived of a place +so perfect, if indeed it is not all a dream!” breathed Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And now, love, I will leave you to make your toilet for +dinner. There, in those drawers and wardrobes of your +dressing-room, you will find an outfit, such as I wish you +to wear. Youth should always dress in white while in the +house, Em. At least I think so, even at this time of the +year. And you may do so with impunity, for, as you say, +although the season is autumn, the atmosphere is summer. +It is <i>always</i> summer at Edengarden,” the lady added with +a smile as she pressed a kiss upon the lips of Em. and left +the room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. stood for a moment looking about herself, still +dazzled and bewildered by the novelty and beauty of her +surroundings, and then, child like, she went to each rosesilk +and lace-draped window and in turn opened it and +stepped out upon the marble balcony. There were four of +these, be it remembered, each affording strict privacy and +commanding a magnificent view. While she was still standing +on the balcony outside of the east window she was +startled by a voice in the room calling out:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Miss Em.! Where is yer, honey? Come out here, +honey.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I <i>am</i> ‘out here,’ Pony,” laughed the girl, “but I will +step <i>in</i>, if you want me.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, I t’ought you was in your bedroom, maybe. My +mist’ess has sent me up here to help yer to dress, chile.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Thank you, aunty,” said Em. as she came into the room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Pony herself went into the dressing-closet and began to +overhaul the fresh wardrobe, saying:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“There’s your nice gauze flannels in this bottom drawer, +honey, and yer cambric skirts in this, and yer dresses in +the wardrobe, and yer——”</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_219'>219</span>“Pony,” interrupted Em., “I have not known your dear +and lovely mistress for a week, and here she has a complete +outfit for me. How on earth could she have got it?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, chile, maybe she may tell you herself some o’ dese +days. <i>I</i> ain’t at liberty to explain, Miss Em. Only this +I’ll say, dat dis wardrobe wasn’t got for <i>you</i>, nor was dese +rooms prepared for <i>you</i>, nor was——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“For whom, then, were the rooms fitted up and the wardrobe +selected?” inquired the wondering girl.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I can’t tell you, Miss Em. It ain’t my secret, but de +madam’s. ’Haps, as she has taken sich a fancy to you, she +may tell you herself.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. looked so puzzled, and even distressed, that Pony +hastened to say:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But you have got the beautiful rooms and the beautiful +dresses all to yourself now, honey, with no one to dispute +them with you.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am afraid, though, that my gain is somebody +else’s——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, indeed, Miss Em.! There you are very much mistaken, +for I can tell you this much——” eagerly interrupted +the woman; and then she suddenly paused.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. waited for her to go on, grew impatient, and then +demanded:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“What, Pony?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“<i>These beautiful rooms and most beautiful raiment was +never designed for no mortal girl!</i>”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Pony! <span class='sc'>What</span> do you mean?” breathlessly exclaimed +Em. as a mental vision of the radiant White Lady of the +Wilderness Manor-hall sent an electric thrill through her +veins.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I daren’t tell you, honey, what I mean. ’Haps <i>she’ll</i> +tell you some ob dese days, since she’s took sich a liking to +you, which I hopes, honey, you’ll be a blessing to her and +win her away from de solitary life as I think has all but +turned her brain. I has hopes of you, honey, ’cause you’s +de berry first person she has ever bided to make a companion +of for dese seventeen years or more. Your folks is +de berry first people in all dese many days as she has ever +’vited to her house.”</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_220'>220</span>“Oh, how lonely must such a life have been!” sighed the +girl.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, honey, but it was her own choosing. Why, dere +was even Dr. Willet, her ’ticklerest old friend! When he +came here t’other day she <i>seed</i> him, to be sure, but she +didn’t ax him to stay to dinner!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, I am <i>so</i> glad she let me come!” said Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, so am I. My hopes is all in you, Miss Em. My +hopes for my dear mist’ess is all in you! Why, honey, she +is so <i>young</i> to shet herself up from deciety! She ain’t +more’n thirty-two years old, and she don’t look nigh <i>that</i> +even. She don’t look so much older’n you, Miss Em. And +if she would go out she might marry happy! She might, +indeed, for dere’s many and many an unmarried single +young lady of her age what passed theirselves off <i>well</i> for a +miss in her ’teens! And nobody know to de contrary!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, if I could only do anything to make her happy! To +make her forget the past, whatever it is! To win her back +to her fellow-beings!” sighed Em., clasping her hands prayerfully.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I ’pends on you for to do dat, Miss Em. And now, my +honey-bee, come dress yerself as pretty as ever you can, for +my lady loves to look at pretty things. So dress yerself +pretty, Miss Em.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“In the ghost’s clothes?” inquired Em., half jestingly, +half shudderingly.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, honey, not de ghost’s! Don’t be afeard—dere’s no +ghost. In de <i>angel’s</i> clothes, more like.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“What<i>ever</i> do you mean, Pony?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I daren’t say no more’n dis, honey—what I said afore—as +dese things, dese lovely rooms and lovely raiments, was +never prepared for <i>you</i>, <i>nor for no mortal lady</i>, dough you +has got dem now! So, my honey, don’t ax me no more +questions, ’cause you wouldn’t have me ’tray my mist’ess’ +trust, would you?” seriously inquired Pony.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, no, no, no!” earnestly exclaimed Em., who had not +considered the subject in that light before.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, den, honey, don’t ax me no more questions on +dat subject, ’cause talking is my weakness, anyhow; but, +come, now and dress yerself pretty as a fairy, to go down +and sit wid my mist’ess.”</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_221'>221</span>Em. looked over her simple and elegant wardrobe and +selected a costume of embroidered white India muslin, +lightly trimmed with pale blue ribbons.</p> + +<p class='c009'>When she was ready she followed Pony down to the presence +of her mistress, whom she found in a little boudoir +connected with the long saloon on one end and a small, elegant +dining-room on the other.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The lady had changed her own dress, and wore a silver-gray +silk with point lace falls, and no jewelry.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“We dine early here, my dear girl,” said Mrs. Lynn as +she touched the bell.</p> + +<p class='c009'>No one answered it, for the signal at that hour was +understood, and in about five minutes dinner was announced.</p> + +<p class='c009'>No more need be said of this than that it was a dainty +little dinner for two, elegantly served in the small but +sumptuous dining-room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>After dinner Mrs. Lynn took Emolyn into the library, +where they spent a few pleasant hours seated in luxurious +chairs at a table covered with books of engravings after the +old masters.</p> + +<p class='c009'>When tired of this amusement at the lady’s suggestion +they drew their chairs to the fire and fell into a confidential +chat.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The lady drew Em. out to speak of her childhood, of +Laundry Lane, of her journey to the mountains, and of +her first impressions of the new home.</p> + +<p class='c009'>In the course of her narrative Em. spoke of the radiant +vision she had seen in the moonlit hall on the first night +of her stay at the old manor-house.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Life is full of mysteries,” muttered the lady thoughtfully—then, +seeing Em. watching breathlessly, she added—“But +your vision was probably a dream, inspired by the +stories you had heard about the so-called ‘haunted hall.’”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But I never heard any stories, dear lady. To be sure, +old ’Sias, the gatekeeper, startled mother by hinting that +no one who knew the house could be induced to go into it. +But he absolutely refused to explain his words, so we heard +no story,” said Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“What? Why should you have dreamed of the bride’s +ghost if you never had heard the story?”</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_222'>222</span>“Dear lady, I did not dream. I <i>saw</i> the radiant spirit.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You think you did, my dear, at all events, and it is +very strange that your dream should have corresponded so +well with the legend you never heard.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, but please tell it to me, dear lady,” said Em., who +had all a child’s eagerness to hear a story.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It is very old; but one of my remote ancestors was a +terrible domestic tyrant, and had, among many sons, only +one beautiful daughter. She loved a poor young man, but +was ordered by her father to marry an old one. Parents +did not trifle in those days. Ethelinde was to be forced +to obey. She was locked in her room and guarded till the +wedding night.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“The time came. The guests were assembled, the feast +was spread. The bridegroom and his attendants waited in +the hall, the bishop and the rector were ready in the drawing-room. +The bride was dressed in splendid bridal array; +but every once noticed how pale she looked, even to her lips.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“At length the summons came and she went down, followed +by her bridesmaids.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“From the lower end of the hall her aged bridegroom +came to meet her. He was bowing and smiling and holding +out his hand.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But as he touched her she fell at his feet—DEAD!</p> + +<p class='c009'>“The overtaxed heart had broken. There, those are the +facts, Em.! The fiction is that on every anniversary of that +fatal day the bride goes through her death march again, +sometimes followed by a faithful attendant, sometimes +alone. You <i>must</i> have heard the story and forgotten it, else +why should you have dreamed the dream?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It was no dream, dear lady. Yours is a veritable ghost +story, and I have seen a veritable ghost,” said Em. in a +voice of awe.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Come, let us go to bed and sleep off such morbid +fancies,” said Mrs. Lynn as she arose and rang for bedroom +lights.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_223'>223</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XXVII<br> <span class='c006'>EM.’S DAYS AT EDENGARDEN</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c007'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>Within the island’s calm retreat</div> + <div class='line in2'>She leads a sort of fairy life,</div> + <div class='line'>Careless of victory or defeat,</div> + <div class='line in2'>In the word’s ceaseless toil and strife.</div> + <div class='line in42'><span class='sc'>Anon.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c008'>Our little heroine’s life in Edengarden seemed to her +something like that of a princess in fairyland.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She lived in ease and luxury, surrounded by beauty and +splendor.</p> + +<p class='c009'>No services were required from her.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The Lady of Edengarden made out for her the programme +of a course of reading which she recommended the +girl to pursue, and Em. gratefully and gladly devoted a +few hours of every morning to these studies. Mrs. Lynn +also instructed her chosen pupil in the French and German +languages, and in vocal and instrumental music, and in +sketching and embroidery.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. was very happy, or she would have been but for one +tormenting thought which presented itself again and again—the +thought that she herself was making no sort of return +for all these benefits—no, nor doing any useful thing, as +far as she could see, for any human being.</p> + +<p class='c009'>This thought sometimes made Em. so unhappy that at +length she felt forced to speak of it to her benefactress. +She watched for an opportunity to do so, and it came at +length.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She was sitting with Mrs. Lynn in the boudoir of the +latter and engaged on a beautiful piece of satin embroidery, +mere useless “fancy” work, such as Em. in her practical +life had never “fancied.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You look very thoughtful, my child. Are you homesick, +Em.?” inquired the lady.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, no, dear madam, no!” earnestly replied the girl.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“What is the matter then, my love! Do you not enjoy +yourself here?”</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_224'>224</span>“Yes, dear lady, but——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But what?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am not doing any service for you in return for all the +great benefits you lavish on me. I am not doing anything +for anybody in the world, and——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, Em.?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, dear lady, I feel as if I were doing wrong. I have +been taught that life was not given us for mere selfish enjoyment, +and I have been trained to a busy and active life.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And you think that you are doing no good here?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am living a life of self-indulgence, dear lady.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Instead of the life of self-devotion that you have been +used to, I suppose. Now listen to me, dear girl, and I will +show you how mistaken you are. When I first saw you, +child, I was drawn to you as you admit that you were to me. +In my seventeen years of utter isolation from all society I +have never met any one to whom my heart went out as it +did to you. In the short time I have known you, my child, +I have learned to love you more and more. I keep you +near me. I direct your education. It is a happiness to me +to do this.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But I do nothing for you, dear lady.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, you heal me, child. <i>You heal me of a long, long +heart-sickness.</i>”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, madam, if I could think myself so privileged, so +honored and <i>blessed</i> as to be able to do that, I should indeed +feel that my life were well spent!” exclaimed the girl with +enthusiasm.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Then content yourself, my child, for I have told you +the truth. It can be summed up in two words—I teach +you. You heal me.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>And indeed it was so. The lady was educating the girl +and the girl was drawing the recluse out of herself, out of +her morbid thoughts, out of her solitary life.</p> + +<p class='c009'>A proof of this soon occurred.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Dr. Willet came to the island. The recluse Lady of Edengarden +not only received him, as indeed she did on his +first visit, but also pressed him to stay and dine.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The good doctor did not need much persuasion. He +readily consented to remain. He brought Em. news of her +father’s family, who were all well with the exception of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_225'>225</span>Ann Whitlock, whom he reported to be very much in the +same condition in which Em. had left her.</p> + +<p class='c009'>It was in the afternoon of that day when Em., having +left the room for a few moments, and Dr. Willet, finding +himself alone with his hostess, said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“That little girl is doing you good.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, she is a healing angel to me,” answered the lady.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, now, let me tell you one thing. It is from no +peculiar merit in the girl, although she is a good child. It +is only because she is not yourself. She is somebody outside +of yourself. She is company, in fact. That is the +reason why she has done you good. Now, dear friend, let +me assure you that the more company you see, within certain +limits, the more good you will receive,” said the doctor.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The lady did not reply. The doctor, encouraged by her +silent toleration of his argument, continued:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“There is your old friend and neighbor, Commodore +Bruce, with whom you know I am staying. How rejoiced +he would be to hear news of you. He has never ceased to +mourn you as dead, Emolyn Wyndeworth! Let me tell +<i>him</i>, at least, that you live and are well and near him.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, no, no, no!” exclaimed the Lady of Edengarden +suddenly and vehemently—“if you wish to break up my +home here and send me forth again a wanderer and a vagabond +on the face of the earth, you will betray my secret to +<i>him</i> of all men!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“My dear lady, say no more! say no more! Your secret +is as safe with me as with the dead!” hastily answered the +doctor.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The return of Em. put an end to the conversation, and +Dr. Willet soon after took his leave.</p> + +<p class='c009'>In the course of the same week Susan Palmer came to +see her daughter, and at Mrs. Lynn’s cordial invitation +spent the day.</p> + +<p class='c009'>On bidding good-by to the lady she said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I fear, dear madam, as you are a-sp’iling that girl for +a poor man’s wife, with all the luxuries and elegancies as +you are a-pampering her up with.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Do not fear. If nature has not, from the beginning, +spoiled her for a poor man’s helpmate, education, at this +<span class='pageno' id='Page_226'>226</span>late day, cannot do it. Besides, Susan Palmer, why should +she ever be a poor man’s wife?” inquired the lady.</p> + +<p class='c009'>This question arrested Susan’s attention at once. Though +in the act of departure she paused, turned around and exclaimed:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh! now I suppose Em. has been telling you about her +wealthy lover!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Her ‘wealthy lover?’ Indeed not,” replied the lady +with an anxious glance towards Em., who blushed to the +edges of her hair.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, then, she <i>will</i> tell you, ma’am, for I haven’t got +time! Em., tell the lady all about it, and she will be able +to advise you just as well as anybody in this world! Tell +her all, Em., and don’t blush up so, my girl! You behaved +well in that business, child, and haven’t got nothing to blush +for!” said Susan Palmer proudly. And then, having kissed +her daughter and shaken hands with her benefactress, +Susan went down to the beach to be rowed home by old +’Sias.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The Lady of Edengarden made it a matter of conscience +to speak to her young protégée on the subject suggested by +Mrs. Palmer. She understood well, also, how to prepare +for such a confidential conversation.</p> + +<p class='c009'>There was one room, the most plainly furnished in the +Villa of Edengarden, which was the favorite evening resort +of Mrs. Lynn and her young companion, because it was +warmed by an old-fashioned open wood fire.</p> + +<p class='c009'>In this room Em. and her patroness sat in the evening +after the departure of Susan Palmer.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Pony came in to light the lamps.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, don’t do that yet awhile. We will sit in the firelight,” +said Mrs. Lynn.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It <i>is</i> cozy like, too,” Pony admitted as she retired.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Draw your chair up to the fire, Em., put your feet on +the fender; and now, love, tell me who is this wealthy lover +of yours of whom your mother spoke?” softly inquired Mrs. +Lynn when they were left alone in the ruddy glow of the +smoldering red hickory fire.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“He is Lieutenant Ronald Bruce, the nephew and heir of +Commodore Bruce, of The Breezes,” answered Em. in a low +<span class='pageno' id='Page_227'>227</span>and tremulous tone, feeling well pleased that her face was +but dimly visible in the glowing gloom of the firelight.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“‘Bruce!’ That name again,” murmured the lady +thoughtfully. Then, after a meditative pause, she said: +“My dear girl, if you feel that you can confide in me, tell +me all about it.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Thus appealed to, Em. would have told her little love +story to her friend, cost what it might to her own feelings.</p> + +<p class='c009'>It was not hard for her to tell it there. She drew her +low chair closer to the lady’s side, and with her head on the +lady’s lap she related the circumstances of her first meeting +with Ronald Bruce, when he had saved her from falling +under the uplifted club of an intoxicated and infuriated +ruffian. How their acquaintance progressed. How he had +been her disinterested friend, and had tried to improve her +condition even before he had declared himself to be her +lover. How he had procured her first the offer of a situation +of nursery governess in his sister’s family, which she had +refused for her father’s sake. How afterwards, when her +family had come to Virginia, he had managed so that his +mother had offered her a situation as seamstress at The +Breezes. How Commodore Bruce had taken a fancy to her +himself, and when she was capriciously discharged from his +sister-in-law’s service had engaged her as his reader, which +post she had filled to his satisfaction until his nephew, Lieutenant +Ronald Bruce, had confessed his attachment to her +and announced his intention of marriage.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“That was noble and upright in the young man. What +followed?” inquired Mrs. Lynn as Em. faltered and paused +in her narrative.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Commodore Bruce summoned his nephew to his presence +and threatened to disinherit him unless he gave me +up.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“What next, my dear? Speak on. Speak low if you like, +but do not be afraid. What did the young man say or do?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ronald declined to give me up, and accepted disinheritance +as a consequence.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“That was right. And then? What then? Compose +yourself, my child, and speak on.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Then,” continued Em. in a low and faltering voice that +seemed as if it would break down at every syllable—“then +<span class='pageno' id='Page_228'>228</span>Commodore Bruce sent for me and told me all that he had +told <i>him</i>—Ronald—and threw himself on what he was so +polite as to call <i>my</i> honor, and asked me to reject Ronald for +Ronald’s own sake.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And you, darling, <i>you</i>, what did you do?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I—rejected—him—and went home—with my father,” +said Em., utterly breaking down.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Do not weep so bitterly, my love. This lover—he <i>never</i> +acted on your forced rejection, Em.?” tenderly inquired the +lady.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No—no! He would not listen to it. He said he was +of age, and no one had the right to control him in a matter +so near his heart,” continued Em., recovering something of +her self-possession.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Go on, dear.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“He appealed to my father; but my dear father was +prouder in his way than Commodore Bruce himself. He +refused me to Ronald. He said that no daughter of his +should ever enter any family who would not be as glad to +receive her as ever he could be to give her. And that Lieutenant +Bruce must never come again until he came authorized +by Commodore Bruce to ask my hand.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And so,” said the lady, “between these two stiff-necked +old men—the haughty old commodore and the arrogant +overseer—you are to be sacrificed! For, I suppose, as a +dutiful child, you will abide by your father’s decision.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, yes, madam, for I promised my dear father never +to marry without his consent, and I know he will never +consent to my marriage with Ronald,” said Em., almost on +the verge of breaking down again, but she succeeded in controlling +herself.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“So, finally, all depends upon the will of Commodore +Bruce?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, madam.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But, again, the young man—has he accepted this decision +of your father?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, indeed, madam, no more than he accepted that of +his uncle or mine! He says he will never give me up!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“He is right. Commodore Bruce must be brought to +terms. Do not misunderstand me, however, my dear. I +strongly disapprove of young people taking the law into +<span class='pageno' id='Page_229'>229</span>their own hands in this respect, and marrying against the +wishes of their parents. But Ronald’s case is an exceptional +one. Commodore Bruce is not his father, nor his guardian, +and has no right to dictate to him, a man of twenty-five, on +the subject of his marriage, nor has he the moral right to +bribe him by a rich inheritance to give up his true and +honest love. With your father’s feeling on the subject I can +better sympathize. I, too, if I were so blessed as to have +a daughter, would object to her entering even a royal family +by marriage, if they were not as proud to receive her as I +to bestow her. Yes, I understand and appreciate your +father’s motives. It is the old commodore who must be set +right. Now, cheer up, my darling. I will be the fairy godmother +who shall bring the prince back to your feet,” said +the lady, pressing a kiss upon her brow.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. looked up—gratefully, doubtfully; for how, she +asked herself, could this lady, with all her great power and +good will, influence Commodore Bruce to put away those +strong prejudices of caste which formed a part of his very +being?</p> + +<p class='c009'>The Lady of Edengarden, watching her expressive face, +read her thoughts and answered them as if they had been +spoken.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Commodore Bruce knew me and loved me from my +childhood up to the time I was about sixteen years of age. +I have not seen him since. The trial that blighted my life +has prevented me——But I cannot speak of that! He +believes me dead! But for your sake, my darling, I will +burst the bonds that hold me. I will break the silence of +years. I will go to Commodore Bruce in person, and I +know I have the talisman which shall bring him to favorable +terms. Cheer up, Em.! All will be well.”</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_230'>230</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XXVIII<br> <span class='c006'>A VISIT TO THE BREEZES</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c007'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in12'>Sunrise will come next!</div> + <div class='line'>The shadow of the night is passed away!</div> + <div class='line in34'><span class='sc'>Browning.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c008'>“Yes,” said the Lady of Edengarden to herself on the +morning after her eventful conversation with Em., and +while she and her young companion sat together in the blue +parlor, engaged with their embroidery—“yes, though I +have never left this island except to leave the country, I +will try to break the strong spell that has bound me, and +to cast off the dark nightmare that has oppressed me for +years, and, for the sake of this gentle child, and of one who +bears the name and likeness of him I loved and lost, I will +seek the presence of the man whom I most dreaded to meet +in this world.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>All who ever knew Emolyn Wyndeworth knew that she +was sensitive, timid, and retiring in the extreme. To these +weaknesses she owed all her misfortunes. To these she had +so succumbed as to have died a moral and social death daily +for the last seventeen years.</p> + +<p class='c009'>It required, therefore, a heroic effort in her to form this +resolution. It would require an almost superhuman one to +carry it into effect.</p> + +<p class='c009'>While she was still trying to</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c010'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“Screw ‘her’ courage to the sticking place”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c009'>for an interview with Commodore Bruce, two cards were +brought in by her page and placed in her hands.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“‘Dr. Willet,’ ‘Lieutenant Bruce,’” she read aloud.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. looked up suddenly, too much frightened to blush. +She expected to see a frown of anger at this intrusion on +the face of her who had worn nothing but smiles for her +protégée.</p> + +<p class='c009'>But, no! that very grave face had not the slightest trace +of displeasure on it.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_231'>231</span>“Where have you left these gentlemen?” she inquired +of her page.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“In the small white saloon, madam.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I will see them there. Go and say so.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>The page left the room and the lady turned to Emolyn, +whose color was rolling over her face like rose-leaves before +a breeze.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You are afraid I am not going to let you see your lover? +Do not fear that, my child ; I shall send him in to you. I +have something to say to Dr. Willet,” said the lady as +she stooped and left a kiss on the brow of the girl and +passed from the room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>In the small white saloon—which was a sort of anteroom +to the large white saloon—the hostess found Dr. Willet +and Lieutenant Bruce.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The former arose and advanced toward her with outstretched +hands and deprecating smile, saying:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I have to beg your pardon for what I fear you will consider +an unpardonable liberty; but my young friend +here——Allow me to present Lieutenant Bruce——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Here the young officer approached and bowed reverentially, +and the lady smiled on him and offered her hand, +saying:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I have heard of Lieutenant Bruce from a young lady +who is staying with me, and I am very happy to make him +welcome to Edengarden.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>The young officer bowed again and lifted the hand of +the lady to his lips.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“So! the great gun is fired, and nobody killed or desperately +wounded,” muttered the doctor to himself; then, +aloud: “My young friend here, as I was about to say, asked +me to introduce him to you, madam, and, in fact, would +take no denial.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am very glad to see him,” repeated the lady.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“He had, in fact, a small parcel belonging to your young +protégée, which he did not care to trust to an ordinary messenger, +and which I, for reasons, did not volunteer to bring +myself,” added the doctor with a merry look.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And perhaps, for the same cause, you would prefer to +deliver your parcel in person, Mr. Bruce,” suggested the +lady with a smile.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_232'>232</span>“If you please, madam,” replied the young gentleman +with a bow, expecting that his hostess would then send for +her little companion.</p> + +<p class='c009'>In fact, the lady touched the bell and brought her young +page to her presence.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Show this gentleman to the blue parlor,” she said to the +boy. “You will find Miss Palmer there,” she added to the +man.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Ronald Bruce arose, turned a grateful look upon the +lady, and followed the page.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I perceive that you have divined this pretty little love +idyl, and do not disapprove it,” said Dr. Willet as soon as he +was left alone with the Lady of Edengarden.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I was about to make the very same observation to you. +No, indeed, I do not disapprove of it. On the contrary, I +wish to do everything I can to forward it. Dr. Willet!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, my dear?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am going to match-making.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You, my child?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes. From what I have understood, her want of fortune +is the only objection the lover’s friends have to his +chosen bride—the only objection they <i>can</i> have—for the +girl is beautiful, intellectual, graceful, amiable, fairly educated, +ladylike, and young enough to improve in all these +things.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But her want of fortune, my dear lady——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I can supply. I have ample means and no children, no, +nor even near relations in this world. I have fallen in love +with this little girl! You smile, but, indeed, that is the +only way in which I can express my sudden and increasing +affection for little Emolyn Palmer. I will endow her richly +on her marriage, and make her my heiress at my death. +You smile again.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am thinking, dear lady, that you and your protégée +seem to be so nearly of an age, that, to use a homely proverb, +‘When one dies of old age, the other may quake for +fear!’”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“There is sixteen years’ difference between our ages, +doctor.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Indeed! But, yes, of course, when I come to remember, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_233'>233</span>I know there must be. And you will really endow this +child?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, Dr. Willet, and——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, my dear?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I wish to see Commodore Bruce myself on this subject.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You do! Oh, I am delighted to hear you say that you +will see him on <i>any</i> subject! He will be so rejoiced to +know that you live that I believe it will add years to his +own lease of life.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“That is very pleasant to hear. Yet I do not see why the +aged commodore should take such a great interest in me! +Why, indeed, he should take <i>any</i> interest now,” said the +lady thoughtfully.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I think it is from a morbid compunction—almost remorse.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“‘Remorse?’”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, Emolyn! For on the last night before his son +Leonidas embarked on that fatal voyage from which he +never returned the boy, moved by some prophetic spirit, implored +his father to watch over <span class='fss'>YOU</span>—his own lifelong playmate +and companion. The father gave less heed to this +parting prayer than he afterwards had reason to suppose he +should have done; and he has fostered a morbid remorse +of which he has only very lately made me the confidant. +He will be so glad to know that you still live, dear Emolyn, +that he will be likely to yield to any wish of yours, even to +the consenting that his nephew and heir shall marry the +overseer’s daughter.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Heaven grant it,” she breathed in tones so low, so full +of controlled emotion, that the doctor turned and regarded +her with surprise. He could not know the depths of bitter +memory in her bosom that had been stirred by the name +of Leonidas Bruce.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You take this girl’s interests very deeply to heart. No +doubt you will be able to influence the old commodore in +their favor. Shall I bring him here to see you to-morrow?” +he inquired.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, no, for he is aged, and, as I have heard from Emolyn +Palmer, unwilling ever to stir from his home. No; +but I will ask you, Dr. Willet, to take me to see him. Will +you do so?”</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_234'>234</span>“Most willingly, my dear young friend. When shall I +have the pleasure? To-morrow? Next day? When?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Can I not go to-day? Accompany you when you return?” +inquired the lady.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Assuredly you can if you wish! I shall be very happy +to have you. Young Bruce and I rowed ourselves here, and +we shall be very glad to row you back with us.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“How soon do you return? Do not think me inhospitable; +for I know, of course, by your bringing Lieutenant +Bruce, that you did not intend to give <i>us</i> the pleasure of +your company all day, and I only wished to know if you +were going directly to The Breezes, or intending to keep +on to Gray Rock?” said the lady with a deprecating smile.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, I understand perfectly, and so I am not sensitive! +We are going directly back to The Breezes, my dear lady, +and will be happy to take you with us,” said the doctor.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Then, if you will kindly excuse me, I will go and put +on my hat and shawl and be ready, so that when our young +friends have got through their <i>tête-à-tête</i> I may not keep +you waiting,” replied the lady as she left the room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>In the meantime Ronald Bruce passed into the blue parlor, +where he found Em. awaiting him.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The girl’s countenance prompted her to rebuke her lover +for his second audacious attempt to break through her +father’s prohibition. But at the sight of his loving, happy, +radiant face her heart condoned the offense.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Dear Em., dear, dearest Em.! don’t reproach me! I +have not seen you for a month. I could not stand it any +longer. I had to make a friend of old Dr. Willet, I mean a +confidant, for he was always my friend—one of my oldest +and best friends—and I got him to bring me here and introduce +me to the lady of the house. Oh! Em., my treasure, +I am so glad to see you! Don’t reproach me!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Indeed, she could not do so. His beaming countenance +continued to shine on her, while he held her hands, rapturously +kissing them from time to time as he poured forth +his impetuous stream of words.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am <i>very</i> glad to see you, Ronald, but, oh! I know I +ought not to be glad. Did my dear lady send you in to see +me?” she inquired while he placed himself at her side on +the sofa.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_235'>235</span>“Oh, yes, to be sure she did! Some good spirit must +have whispered to her how much I wished to see you alone,” +he said, still tightly holding her hand and pressing it to +his lips.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Don’t, Ronald, please don’t do that,” she said, withdrawing +her hand, but adding, “I told the lady all about us, +Ronald.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You! There, I said some angel had enlightened her, +and you are the one!” he murmured, as he recaptured her +hand and deftly slipped a ring upon her finger.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh! what is this?” she exclaimed, raising the hand that +he had then released and gazing upon the sparkling solitaire +diamond set in the golden circle around her finger.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It is something belonging to you,” he gravely replied.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Belonging to me!” she exclaimed.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, it is your betrothal ring, ordered for you some +weeks ago, but never received until yesterday.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>She began to withdraw the ring from her finger, but he +caught her hand and prevented her from doing so as he +said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, Em., you must not remove it. You must wear it +until it is replaced by a wedding ring. Listen, Em.! Don’t +make me out a story-teller! I said I had a parcel to deliver +which <i>belonged to you</i>, as it did belong to you, since it was +ordered and made for you—and that was my excuse for +wanting to intrude on the seclusion of this hermit lady! +Don’t make me out a mendacious villain by refusing to take +<i>what belongs to you</i>!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I don’t understand your logic, dear Ronald; but I <i>know</i> +I must not take a betrothal ring from you in the face of my +father’s prohibition of our engagement,” replied the girl as +she steadily withdrew the ring from her finger and returned +it to him.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Little wooden post! Little marble pillar! Little iceberg!” +exclaimed the young man half angrily. “Are we <i>not</i> +engaged, then? Do you withdraw from your promise?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, dear Ronald, not one iota! I promised never to +marry any other person but you, and, of course, I never +shall. It was hardly worth while to have made such a promise, +though! It was altogether a word of supererogation, +for in <i>no</i> case could I ever think of any other marriage. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_236'>236</span>But notwithstanding that, Ronald, I can never marry you +until my father withdraws his opposition, and so, dear, I +must not take your ring.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It is <i>you</i> who are as relentless as a griffin! I do not +find it so difficult to manage the old man. He did not forbid +me the house the last time I went to see you there! No, +although I went there on that occasion against his order!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I suppose he thought it was no use to prohibit the +visits of a man who paid no attention to his prohibition,” +said Em. gravely.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, that was not the reason! My father-in-law who is +to be would have been more likely to have kicked out any +other man but me, under the like circumstances. But I am +really very much attached to the old man, and he knows it, +and he <i>could</i> not snub me while I smiled in his face! That +was the reason why he did not repeat his prohibition or even +forbid me to visit you here!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, my father would never have done the last! He had +no right to say that you should not come to Edengarden. +But, Ronald, he confides in your honor and in mine. And +we must not abuse his confidence. He shall not be disappointed +in us, Ronald. Oh, I have something so delightful +to tell you, dear Ronald! I have already told you how I +made known our case to my dear friend and benefactress, +and I suppose that was the reason why she staid with Dr. +Willet and sent you in to see me. Well, Ronald, this dear +lady feels so interested in us that she is going to interfere, +and she says she has a <i>talisman</i>—that is only her way of +saying that she has power and influence with the commodore +sufficient to win his consent to our marriage.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“The Lady of Edengarden said that?” exclaimed young +Bruce in surprise.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Indeed she did, dear, and she promised faithfully to use +her power in our favor.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I do not know what power or influence this beautiful, +mysterious and most interesting lady can have with my old +uncle. I am very sure that he is not even acquainted with +her; for on one occasion, when I first came to The Breezes, +I asked him if he knew his neighbor on the island, whose +name was on everybody’s lips; he said no, he didn’t know +her, and had never even heard of her until very recently; +<span class='pageno' id='Page_237'>237</span>and he added in his rough way that he didn’t want to know +her—that he disapproved of women whose eccentricities +placed their names in everybody’s mouth! That is a dark +prospect for her success with my uncle, Em., my darling!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ah! but I suspect that the Lady of Edengarden knows +what she is talking about. Besides, how should Commodore +Bruce be able to tell whether he has ever known her +before? Hardly any one knows who she was, or where she +came from. For my part, I believe she <i>has</i> the power and +influence which she claims,” said Em., speaking with confidence, +although she did not feel at liberty to speak with +explicitness.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Very well, my dearest, I pin my faith on Mrs. Lynn and +on your superior knowledge of that lady, only devoutly +praying that my faith, as well as yours, may be justified,” +said Ronald Bruce.</p> + +<p class='c009'>What more he might have said on the same subject does +not appear, because the abrupt entrance of the little page +stopped the conversation.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“If you please, sir, Dr. Willet bid me say to you, with +his compliments, that he is ready to go,” said the boy.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Very well! Tell Dr. Willet I will join him in a minute,” +replied the young man.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The boy withdrew to carry his message.</p> + +<p class='c009'>When they were once more alone Em. said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Dear Ronald, do not keep the good doctor waiting.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I will not, darling, especially as I owe to him the introduction +that enables me to visit you here; for now that an +<i>entrée</i> has been effected, I shall come often, Em., unless my +excellent father-in-law-elect should take it into his conscientious +head to forbid me! Well, good-by, my precious!” +he said, stooping to kiss her.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Stop,” she said, deftly evading the caress. “I am going +out with you to see Dr. Willet. I want to ask him how my +dear old Aunty Whitlock is!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, Em., was ever a girl so blessed or burdened with +relations as you are?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Blessed—not burdened,” said Em. as they left the parlor +and walked on together to the little white saloon.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, Dr. Willet, I am so glad to see you to-day. Have +<span class='pageno' id='Page_238'>238</span>you been to the Wilderness this morning?” inquired Em. as +she shook hands with the good physician.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, my child; and I left them all well, with the exception +of Mrs. Whitlock, who is no better,” replied the doctor +as he arose to take leave.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You are going out, dear madam?” inquired Em. as she +saw Mrs. Lynn standing beside the door, dressed for her +visit.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, my love. The doctor’s call this morning is very +opportune, since it affords me the privilege of his escort +to The Breezes,” said Mrs. Lynn with a bow to the physician.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. exchanged an intelligent glance with her lover; +but that was all they could do, for the doctor advanced +and shook hands with her again, this time bidding her +good-by.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But who is to bring you home again, madam?” anxiously +inquired Em. of her benefactress.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“<i>I</i> shall have that honor, so I will not say good-by, but +<i>au revoir</i>,” Ronald Bruce hastened to add as he seized and +pressed her hand.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The lady and her escort then left the house and walked +down to the boat.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It is only about half way to the Wilderness Manor +Landing that we have to go to reach The Breezes, I believe,” +said Mrs. Lynn, as she permitted herself to be assisted +into the boat and accommodated with a cushioned +seat in the stern.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Scarcely so far. We shall reach The Breezes in half an +hour with <i>our</i> rowing,” answered Ronald Bruce, as he +pushed off the boat.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Then both gentlemen laid themselves to the oars and the +boat sped on.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_239'>239</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XXIX<br> <span class='c006'>BEARDING THE LION IN HIS DEN</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c007'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>By hope I see the landscape bathed in light;</div> + <div class='line'>And where the golden vapor vails the gaze,</div> + <div class='line'>Guess out the spot and mark the site of happy days.</div> + <div class='line in42'><span class='sc'>Bulwer.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c008'>It was a glorious autumn day. The sky, of a deep and +brilliant hue, was without a single cloud. The moss-covered +mountain rocks on the right hand and the wooded hills on +the left glowed and burned in all the most gorgeous hues—scarlet, +golden, purple, green, crimson and orange—all reflected +as by a clear mirror in the calm deep waters of the +river.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, surely this glowing day is a happy augury!” said +the Lady of Edengarden, as the boat skimmed the water.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Let us believe that it is so. Faith works miracles,” replied +the doctor.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The young officer turned a grateful glance on his good +fairy, but said nothing.</p> + +<p class='c009'>In a few more minutes they caught sight of the low, +broad, gray front of the old mountain manor-house, +roosted on its natural plateau of rock, half way up the precipice, +and known to the country round by the name given +it by its nautical proprietor—The Breezes.</p> + +<p class='c009'>In a few more minutes the boat touched the sands on +the lower landing, and Lieutenant Bruce sprang out and +assisted his lady passenger to do the same.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The ascent of the steep was difficult and wearisome, but +not dangerous.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Dr. Willet and Lieutenant Bruce each proffered strong +arms to assist the lady in climbing, but she, who in +the course of her travels had ascended more than one celebrated +mountain, smilingly declined their aid, and with the +help of her long-handled parasol, folded and used as a walking-stick, +she went up the precipitous path as safely as a +kid could have done.</p> + +<p class='c009'>When they reached the plateau on which the house was +<span class='pageno' id='Page_240'>240</span>built, they entered a gate in the stone wall upon the very +brink of the precipice, and passing through the enclosed +space went up to the front entrance.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Lieutenant Bruce being at home, did not wait to knock, +but opened the door and admitted the party.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Dr. Willet led Mrs. Lynn at once into a little study, +which had been placed at his disposal by the commodore +on his first arrival at The Breezes.</p> + +<p class='c009'>He placed a chair for his companion, and said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Remain here, dear Emolyn, where you will be entirely +free from interruption, while I go and find my old friend +and break to him the news of your visit—indeed of your +existence, which will seem to him like a resurrection from +the dead,” added the doctor, as he pressed her hand and +left the room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The lady sat back in her chair, trying to gain courage +for the dreaded interview. And with the strange double +consciousness which we have all at times experienced, while +bending all her powers of mind to prepare for the approaching +ordeal, she also observed the smallest detail in the +dingy little corner nook in which she waited—the faded +green carpet and curtains, the old walnut table and chairs, +the quaint old-fashioned escritoire, half bureau as to its +lower division, and half bookcase as to its upper, whose +shelves, seen through the glass doors, displayed a queer +collection of old, moldy folios.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Meanwhile Dr. Willet went on to the handsome and well-appointed +library where Commodore Bruce usually passed +his days in reading, writing, smoking and dozing.</p> + +<p class='c009'>He found the old sailor, wrapped in his wadded silk +dressing-gown and reclining back in his luxurious easy-chair, +engaged in looking over a newspaper that had just +been brought to him by his mail messenger.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ah, doctor! Back so soon? I am glad of it! There +is nothing at all worth reading in the papers nowadays, +and I feel as dull as a ship becalmed at sea! Well, how +is your patient, sir?” demanded the old sailor. Then without +waiting for reply, he burst out with: “It is disgusting +to think you left your practice in the city and came here +for a good rest——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I came here for the pleasure of your company, my dear +<span class='pageno' id='Page_241'>241</span>friend, and for nothing else under the sun!” interrupted +the doctor.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, then, you came here for the pleasure of my company, +which, by the by, is a very great and undeserved compliment +to my powers of entertaining. But let that pass. +You came for my company, and the rest, you know, is +thrown in. But instead of a rest, you have found a free +patient, whose condition requires you to ride about twelve +miles a day—counting both ways!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No more exercise than is required for my own health. +Besides, I take an interest in the old woman. She is a +very old acquaintance of mine, and in former days was +often my co-laborer, being a professional sick-nurse,” said +the doctor.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, well, as you please, but I think it would be +pleasanter now for you to take an occasional ride behind +the hounds with my nephew instead of that dreary daily +sick call! However, be it as you will; only I hope the old +crone will get well or go to heaven before long. Is she +likely to do either?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Can’t say. She is in the very same condition as we +have seen an old patient of hers and mine, and an old +friend of yours. I refer to the late Captain Wyndeworth. +This woman was his sick-nurse at the time that I attended +him in his last illness, during that dreadful winter preceding +the trial of Emolyn Wyndeworth. Ah, I have often +thought what a mercy it was that the old gentleman was +taken away before that disaster fell upon his house,” murmured +the doctor, purposely dragging in the subject.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ah, so have I! That fatal year was full of disaster! +First came the death of my good old friend, the—the loss +of my dear boy at sea,” muttered the old commodore in a +breaking voice—“then, worse than all, the terrible calamities +that befell Emolyn! Ah, that poor girl!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Did you ever ascertain her fate?” pointedly inquired +the doctor.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, no; but of course she is dead; of course she has +been dead for many years. Emolyn Wyndeworth never +could have survived the shame of a public trial—and such +a trial!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But when it ended in her triumphant acquittal!”</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_242'>242</span>“It was not triumphant for her. It was dishonor heaped +upon dishonor from beginning to end. Her defense was +based upon the theory of paroxysmal insanity. Bah! the +verdict of acquittal was rendered upon the same ground. +Bah! bah! It killed her, sir!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Perhaps not; she certainly had the consciousness of +innocence to support her.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“A very much overrated support, sir.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You believe her to have been innocent?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“‘<i>Believe</i>,’ Dr. Willet! I know it, sir! I knew that +child from her babyhood up. So did you. And I know +her to have been as innocent as an infant angel. She said +that she had been married. I don’t <i>believe</i> she had ever +been married! but I <span class='fss'>KNOW</span> she was married because she +said so! she who never dreamed it possible to lie! She +said her young husband was dead, and therefore, of course, +I knew he was dead because she said so, she whose soul +was truth! She would not give up the name of her husband +even to help her own defense. She would not drag +down the name of an honorable family into the mire into +which her pure name had been hurled by wicked hands! +How well I understood her motive! She was a Wyndeworth! +She came of a race whose men were all honest, +whose women were all pure! She could not be otherwise. +Divine lips have told us that ‘men do not gather grapes of +thorns or figs of thistles.’ Emolyn Wyndeworth was a +true daughter of her noble line! When put to the test, +that gentle, sensitive, shrinking girl became heroic! Yes, +I repeat it, Emolyn Wyndeworth was innocent, and not only +innocent, but heroic! I would to Heaven that <i>I</i> were as +guiltless of offense toward her as she was toward all the +world!” concluded Commodore Bruce, with a deep sigh.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am sure that you can have nothing to reproach yourself +with in regard to that most unhappy lady,” said Dr. +Willet.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You don’t know anything about it, sir! You don’t +know anything about it! Why, the very last night before +my poor boy, Lonny, sailed on that fatal voyage, from +which he was destined never to return—on that very last +night, I say, in the most earnest, tender, manly way, perfectly +wonderful in a mere boy like Lonny, he commended +<span class='pageno' id='Page_243'>243</span>Emolyn Wyndeworth to my care. There were tears in the +lad’s eyes, sir, as he spoke of her orphaned and desolate +condition, and told me how he had loved her all his life +long and hoped some time or other to claim her as his +wife. At that time, although he was about to leave me for +a long voyage, I could scarcely forbear smiling at the +earnestness of the lad in speaking of a prospective wife, +and commending the waiting bride-elect to my fatherly +care. Of course, I promised to look after the girl, but +equally, of course, I forgot my promise—forgot it—ah, +yes! until the catastrophe brought it to my mind too late! +too late!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>All this the old commodore had told the doctor several +times before, yet with the fatuity of approaching dotage +he told it again.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Forgive me for saying that I think you exaggerate +your responsibility in this matter and torture yourself +needlessly.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, I don’t! No, I don’t! I will prove to you that I +don’t by mentioning—that which I never breathed to any +human being before—that Emolyn Wyndeworth had been +privately married to my son—that her child was his legitimate +daughter! There, it is out! Now you know the +secret of what you call my morbid self-reproach! It was +my poor, shipwrecked and drowned boy who was the lost +husband of whom she spoke. It was <i>our</i> name she refused +to bring down to dishonor when the false accusation of +child-murder had branded her pure name!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Father in heaven, can this be true?” exclaimed the +doctor in much agitation.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I firmly believe it to be as I have said. She was the +wife of my son by a private marriage. But when unmerited +dishonor fell upon her name she resolved, by her +silence, to shield us from any share in it. She died and +made no sign.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Commodore Bruce, for Heaven’s sake, declare to me +what reason you have for believing this!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Every reason that ought to have opened my eyes before +the catastrophe came! My son’s solemn charge. Her +deep dejection after his departure. The fact that they +had been the most intimate friends and playmates from +<span class='pageno' id='Page_244'>244</span>their infancy to youth, so that he had no other girl playmate, +she no other boy acquaintance. This should have +enlightened us all if we had not been as blind as bats! +Then again her declaration that her young husband had +belonged to a good family and that he was dead. All this +pointed to Leonidas Bruce.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Again, in those last, sad months, when her uncle lay +slowly dying and I was accustomed to visit him every morning, +I recall her wistful looks into my face—the looks of +a poor, hunted fawn—the pleading gaze of a poor, helpless, +frightened creature that mutely prays for mercy!—the +looks she would raise to my face as she stood in the front +hall waiting for me to pass! Why, sir, I tell you, hundreds +of times I was on the point of speaking to the poor child +and asking her what her trouble was, but that Malvina +Warde—may the foul fiend fire her!—was always in the +way, rattling with her tongue and hurrying me along, so +that beyond a nod or a word I could get no conversation +with the girl. And shortly after I went to sea, and did not +return until the trial of Emolyn Wyndeworth was on. It +was very short, you know, and after she was acquitted she +suddenly vanished from sight, nor could all my effort to +trace her be successful. So many years have passed since +then that I have quite given her up for dead,” sadly concluded +the old man.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And yet, for aught you know to the contrary, she may +be living,” murmured the doctor.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Bah!” exclaimed the commodore. “Julius Cæsar may +be also living, but it must be in another sphere of existence. +No, the opportunity of saving or helping Emolyn +Wyndeworth passed out of my hands because I was, in her +case, too dull of perception, too slow of action. But understand +this: Even at the time of the trial I did not suspect +that Emolyn Wyndeworth had been the wife of my son. I +suspected it afterward, upon reflection, and then, as I recalled +all the circumstances of the case, I saw them in a +new light, and my suspicion became conviction and filled +me with regret, that grew into remorse, for my previous +dulness and blindness, which had resulted so fatally for +that poor, forlorn child. Thus, you see, sir, I mourn the +early and tragic fate of Emolyn Wyndeworth in a sorrow +<span class='pageno' id='Page_245'>245</span>that is without hope,” said the old man, dropping his gray +head upon his chest.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But, as we have never had any proof of her death, she +may be still living!” the doctor ventured again to suggest.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The commodore made a movement of disgust and impatience, +demanding:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“If she is <i>not</i> dead, why has no one ever heard anything +of her in all these years?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Perhaps some one has heard of her,” quietly suggested +the doctor.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Bah!” exclaimed the old sailor.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I think—I am sure that some one has heard of her.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I should like to know who it is, then!” exclaimed the +commodore incredulously.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It is I!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“<span class='sc'>Eh?</span>”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Heard of Emolyn Wyndeworth!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I have!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Good Heaven! You don’t say so!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, I do!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“When? Where? How? Speak, sir! Where is she? +Living? Well?” demanded the excited old man, pouring +question upon question with impetuous rapidity.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“She is living, and well, and not very far off,” quietly +answered the doctor, as he arose, poured out a glass of +water and made the commodore drink it.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It seems incredible!” exclaimed the old man, as he returned +the empty goblet to his friend.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I knew you would be agitated by such news, and I +tried to prepare you for it,” said the doctor.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It fills me with joy, and joy does not hurt any one. It +moves me with gratitude, and that blesses every one. Thank +Heaven! Oh, thank Heaven! But where is this lady +now? If she should be within five hundred miles of me, +I will seek her within a week,” said Commodore Bruce, +more firmly and calmly than he had yet spoken.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_246'>246</span>“She is much nearer than that. She is quite within your +reach,” calmly replied Dr. Willet.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Where? Where? Speak, friend! There is no need +of farther preparation. If you were to tell me she was in +the next room, it could not startle me <i>now</i>!” exclaimed the +commodore, unconsciously touching the very truth.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Still the doctor deemed it best to be cautious.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Have you never suspected her possible identity with +that of the recluse Lady of Edengarden?” significantly inquired +the doctor.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Never! What? The Lady of Edengarden? You don’t +mean to tell me——” The old man paused and gazed with +amazement on the doctor.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, I do. I mean to tell you that Emolyn Wyndeworth +and the Lady of Edengarden are one and the same,” +the latter assured him.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The commodore dropped his head upon his chest and +stroked his full gray beard.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Is she living there at present?” he at length inquired.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes; though usually she does not live there in the +winter.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Then I will go to see her before twenty-four hours are +over my head.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“There will be no need. Emolyn Wyndeworth has come +to see you!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“<span class='sc'>Eh!</span>”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Emolyn Wyndeworth has come to see Commodore +Bruce, her father’s old friend. She only waits your pleasure +to receive her.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Where? Where? Where does she wait?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“In the little green study at the end of the hall,” replied +the doctor composedly.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The veteran of seventy-six sprang up with the agility +of a youth of sixteen and dashed out of the library, exclaiming:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Emolyn Wyndeworth here! In this house! Oh, how +I thank Heaven to have lived for this happiness!”</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_247'>247</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XXX<br> <span class='c006'>THE MEETING</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c007'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>A hundred thousand welcomes! I could weep</div> + <div class='line'>And I could laugh—I’m light and heavy! Welcome!</div> + <div class='line'>A blight begin at the very root of his heart</div> + <div class='line'>Who is not glad to see thee! Welcome!</div> + <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>Shakespeare.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c008'>“Emolyn Wyndeworth! Emolyn, my child, can it be +possible that I find you again after all these years?” exclaimed +Commodore Bruce, seizing the hands of the lady +as she arose and offered them on his entrance into the little +study.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You <i>are</i> glad to see me, then?” she murmured in low +and tremulous tones.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“‘Glad?’ Oh, my Lord!” aspirated the old man with +all his soul.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Let me sit down,” she breathed in almost inaudible +tones, as she sank back trembling into her seat.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You are not much changed; not so much as might have +been expected. No, indeed, you are not,” he resumed, as +he stood before her, holding her hands and gazing wistfully, +tenderly into her face.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Years of life without smiles, or tears, or frowns, or any +emotion that could trace a line on cheek or brow, a life in +marble, a life in death, leaves no vestige of its passage on +the face or form,” mournfully replied Emolyn.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But, my child, why have you led this life? Why have +you expatriated and hidden yourself from your friends all +these years?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You ask me why? Oh, Commodore Bruce!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, I suppose I know or can surmise your motive for +doing so; but, Emolyn, that motive arose from a very morbid +mind. Oh, child, if you knew how I have ‘sought you, +sorrowing,’ all these years!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ah, why should you have taken any interest in one so +lost?” she sighed, covering her eyes with one hand.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Why? You ask me why?” he inquired, unconsciously +<span class='pageno' id='Page_248'>248</span>repeating her own words. “I will tell you, Emolyn. My +poor boy, my poor Lonny, with his last words, before sailing +on that fatal voyage—committed you to my charge—telling +me that when he should return from his voyage +he meant to claim you for his wife.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>A low moan of pain escaped the lips of the lady, but she +made no comment.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ah, Emolyn, would to Heaven I had paid that heed to +his words which I afterward, but too late, found they deserved! +But how could I have known?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“How, indeed? You knew nothing. Do not reproach +yourself,” breathed the lady in low, almost inaudible tones.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But I ought to have known, or inquired, or discovered! +Emolyn, child! what was the meaning of the pleading eyes +you used to raise to mine when I would pass you in leaving +Green Point, after a visit to your bed-ridden uncle? Tell +me, dear! Tell me!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It were bootless to tell you now what I had not the +courage to tell then,” she replied.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And I—hard, cold and blind that I was, I never encouraged +you to open your heart to me, although I had +promised my poor boy to watch over you,” groaned the +commodore.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Do not reproach yourself,” she repeated. “I might +never have been able to confide in any man.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yet I should have drawn your secret from you, Emolyn! +Tell me now, I conjure! In the name of the dead, I conjure +you, tell me, were you the wife of my son?” solemnly +demanded the veteran.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She paused a moment and then answered in a low, distinct +voice:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I was.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>The commodore dropped his gray head upon his open +hands and groaned aloud.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I thought so! I thought so! But not until it was too +late! Not until you had passed out of my reach and +knowledge entirely. Oh, child! If only you had confided +in me, what sorrow would have been saved!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“He wished to do so as soon as we were married, for +boy as he was, he had a man’s intelligent and delicate sense +of honor. He wished to do so, but I was afraid to consent. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_249'>249</span>We were married nearly a month before he sailed; and +every day he pleaded with me to let him confess his marriage; +but the very idea of doing so frightened and distressed +me so much that he would yield the point.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Fatal timidity on your side—fatal compliance on his!” +sighed the commodore.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I told you just now not to reproach yourself. I beg you +now not to reproach me, for I have already suffered the +bitter fruits of my cowardice, nor <i>him</i>, for he has passed beyond +our judgment,” solemnly replied Emolyn.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“My child, I am not reproaching—I am only lamenting!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“That, too, is vain.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I know it; yet, oh, how differently all this might have +ended had he but confessed your marriage even at the last +moment!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“He was in honor bound to me <i>not</i> to do so. At the +very last moment he implored me to release him from his +promise and allow him to tell you and his mother and leave +me under your protection. But I was afraid to consent +and sent him away sorrowing.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Poor boy! Poor boy! Yet he did what he could. He +<i>did</i> invoke my protection for you, Emolyn, although he was +not permitted to use the argument that would have bound +you to us by owning you as his wife. Ah, what a misfortune!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But I must tell you what more he did, that you may +know how thoughtful, how loving, how earnest he was. +On the last night he stayed in his own home he spent the +hours which should have been given to sleep in writing a +long letter of confession to you, telling you all the circumstances +attending our marriage, and invoking your pardon +of him and protection of me. This letter he inclosed in +one to me, in which he besought me to seek your presence +at once; or, if I could not summon courage to do so, at +least to keep the inclosed letter carefully, so that I might +be able to present it to you in case I should ever stand in +need of your friendship——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Where is that letter? Where? Why, oh, why, my +child, did you never deliver it to me?” impetuously demanded +the commodore.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_250'>250</span>“At first I was afraid. Afterward, when the greater +terror overcame the less, I looked for my precious parcel +and could not find it. My cabinet had been rifled of that +and of all my correspondence—of everything, indeed, that +could have afforded the slightest circumstantial evidence +to the truth of my marriage.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Who was the thief? Who?” indignantly demanded the +veteran.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I have no positive knowledge, and I have no right to +speak of my suspicions,” replied Emolyn.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, my child! If, even without those proofs, you could +have summoned resolution to have come to me and told the +whole story!” sighed Commodore Bruce.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Are you sure that you would have believed me? Yet +at one time I had resolved to make a full disclosure of my +relations to you.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I wish to Heaven you had; but when was that? Was +it when you used to watch for me in the hall and look at +me with large, wistful eyes as I passed out?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, no; it was after you had gone away. I had been +plunged in despair by the news of my husband’s sudden +death; but it was not until I knew—what, in my ignorance, +I was long in knowing—that I should become a +mother, and the fate of an innocent being would depend +upon mine, I was inspired with the courage to desperation +and resolved to go away with my faithful nurse to her relatives +and stay with them until my child’s arrival and your +return, and then, if the babe lived, to take it to you and +tell it was your son’s child, and that I, its mother, was +your son’s widow.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I wish to Heaven you had done so.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I should have carried out my resolution if the fatal +catastrophe had not fallen so suddenly upon me. Then +after the death of my child and the shameful accusation——Oh, +I cannot speak of this!” exclaimed Emolyn, +breaking off and dropping her head upon her hands.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I know—I know,” murmured the commodore in deep +emotion—“you acted with the heroism and self-devotion +of your race and nature. You refused, even for your own +preservation and vindication, to tell your real story and +bring our name into the trial.”</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_251'>251</span>“Yet without it I was acquitted and vindicated by all +but by myself.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“How, Emolyn, how? What do you mean, my child?” +inquired the old man in distress.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I know not—oh, I know not what happened that horrible +night!” she gasped with a shudder.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You were irresponsible. You are free from reproach.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, let us not talk of it! The thought—the doubt—has +made me a vagabond and wanderer on the face of the +earth, trying to hide from the world, to fly from myself. +Oh, let us not talk of it! Let us talk of something else!” +She shivered and buried her face in her hands.</p> + +<p class='c009'>They were both painfully silent for a few moments.</p> + +<p class='c009'>At length Emolyn raised her head and spoke:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Commodore Bruce——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“My dear,” said the old man.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I did not come here with any intention of telling you +my secret, nor should I ever have told you if you had not +asked me the direct question.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I only asked you, Emolyn, that I might receive confirmation +of my own convictions. I am glad and grateful +that you came to see me and gave me the opportunity of +making inquiries that have brought out the truth.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yet I should never have had the hardihood to leave +my seclusion after all these years if it had not been for +one in whom I take a deep interest. I mean my little +namesake, Emolyn Palmer, whose acquaintance I have +recently made.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ah!” exclaimed the commodore.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am aware that you know her quite well.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, yes; she passed a week here—a very interesting +young person. She might have had a permanent home +with us if it hadn’t been for the folly of my nephew Ronald +in fancying he had fallen in love with her.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It is of that ‘folly’ I have come to speak to you. It does +not seem to me to be folly, but an honest, manly, faithful +love, likely to last his lifetime,” said Emolyn earnestly.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am very sorry to hear you say that. I trust in Heaven, +for his sake, that it is not true,” gravely replied the old +man.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_252'>252</span>“What is your objection to Emolyn Palmer as the wife +of your nephew?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Objection? My dear lady, how can you ask? My objection +is not a particular but a general one.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“She is beautiful.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“She is graceful.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Certainly.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Amiable and irreproachable in character.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Quite so.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Intelligent and fairly educated.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“She is all that.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And is she not sincerely attached to your nephew and +yourself, and beloved by both?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, it is true.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And are not all these qualities that you would desire +to find in the chosen bride of Ronald Bruce?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, my dear lady—all these qualities are to be desired, +but they are not all that are to be expected in my nephew’s +wife.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“What else would you have, you exacting man?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Wealth and a good social position,” curtly replied the +commodore.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Emolyn Palmer shall have both,” said the lady quietly.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Eh! Emolyn Palmer have wealth and social position? +How is that possible? You dream, my child!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, I do dream, and I mean to realize my dream. The +child, Emolyn Palmer, has interested me more than any +person or anything that I have met with for the last seventeen +years. I feel my heart so drawn out toward her that +I begin to believe in the possibility of happiness in this life +even for me, through her! For her sake I have come to +see you. I told you that in addition to all her personal attractions, +she should have the necessary ones of wealth and +social position. Wealth I will give her. I have no children +nor near relatives to share my fortune. I will, therefore, +give my little namesake a marriage portion that shall make +her the equal in fortune to any young lady in this State. +Her marriage will give her the social position that is required, +for the wife takes rank from her husband. Thus +Emolyn Palmer shall have wealth and position added to all +<span class='pageno' id='Page_253'>253</span>her personal attractions. Will you now consent to the engagement +of these lovers?” earnestly inquired the lady.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The commodore waved his thin white hand to and fro, +as if gently putting away her arguments, as he replied:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“My dearest young friend, that is all benevolent sophistry. +I do not wish my nephew’s wife to owe her rank to +her husband’s family alone. A beggar girl might do that. +No, <i>good birth</i>, even before wealth or personal attractions, +is what I desire and insist upon in the wife of Ronald. +And let me tell you, my dear and gentle Emolyn, that this +and all other desirable attributes are to be found in the lady +I long ago selected for him—Hermia, my niece. They are +indeed my co-heirs, and they must marry. There, my +dear, there is my decision. And now, my Emolyn, you have +known me of old. You know that when my judgment has +decided any course of action to be the right one no power +on earth can move me to alter.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I know! I know! That is the reason why I feared you +so, and shrank from confessing my marriage to you until +it was too late. Do not fear. I shall not continue to importune +you, Commodore Bruce,” said the lady in a tone of +pain.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Do not be vexed with me, Emolyn, my child. It is inexpressibly +distressing to me to be obliged to place myself +in opposition to you on any subject at this our first reunion +after so long and hopeless a separation. Believe me, +dear, I appreciate the benevolence of your actions, which +is in perfect keeping with the tenor of your whole life. I +approve your kind intentions toward this young girl with +only one exception——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“The only vital one,” murmured Emolyn.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Be as kind to her as your good heart dictates in all +things. Give her the advantages of wealth and a higher +culture. She deserves them, and will put them to good +use. Do all you please for her, my dear; but do not torment +yourself or me by trying to bring about a marriage +between Ronald Bruce and the overseer’s daughter.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Fear no importunity from me, sir. I shall not recur +to the subject again in your presence,” said the lady in the +same tone of pain.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now I fear that I have angered you, Emolyn.”</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_254'>254</span>“Oh, no, not angered, only disappointed me,” she replied.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Then rising and gathering her India shawl about her, +she held out her hand and said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I wish you good-morning, sir.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“What? Going? You are not going so early?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Thanks; but I must.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“At least stay to lunch?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Much obliged; but it is impossible.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Let me then introduce you to the ladies of my family. +My niece and her daughter will be happy to see you.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Not for the world. I came not out of my grave to make +a fashionable call. I came to fulfil a mission, which has +failed. Let me go in peace.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But, my dear, your cousins—Mrs. and Miss Ward—are +here, my guests. Let me send for them and make +known your presence,” said the commodore, reaching his +hand for the bell.</p> + +<p class='c009'>But the lady’s hand quickly arrested his.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, on your salvation!” she cried in great excitement. +“Not for a thousand worlds! Oh, stop! <i>Nothing</i> should +ever induce me to meet Malvina Warde! <i>Never</i> could I +bear to look upon her—her, the cause of all my sorrows—my +enemy—my destroyer!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, well, my dear, you shall not see her! She is no +great favorite of mine, although she is unhappily my guest. +Calm yourself, Emolyn. Sit down and let me offer you a +glass of wine. Do.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Thanks, no—nothing. I shall only trouble your boatmen +to take me back to the island.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“They are at your orders, Emolyn,” said the old man, +once more approaching his hand to the bell.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Again she arrested his motion as she said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“One moment. I had nearly forgotten an important +point. But the mere mention of that woman so maddens +me that I forget everything else for the time being! Commodore +Bruce, what I must say and to impress upon you +is this—that I do not wish my name mentioned, or my +existence revealed to any human being, either in this house +or out of it. Like Noah’s weary dove, I have folded my +wings to rest in peace in the ark of my island. But the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_255'>255</span>same day that reveals my name and identity to this neighborhood +sees me go forth again a homeless wanderer over +the face of the earth!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I will keep your secret, my poor, morbid Emolyn; but—Ronald +and Willet, who know who you are?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I can trust them as I trust myself.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Then you are safe.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now please ring the bell and order the boat for me.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Certainly. I may come to see you at your ‘Island of +Calm Delights?’”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, I shall always welcome you.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Again the old man approached his hand to the bell; but +he was again prevented from ringing it.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XXXI<br> <span class='c006'>A STARTLING VISITOR</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c007'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>Much in the stranger’s mien appears</div> + <div class='line'>To justify suspicious fears.</div> + <div class='line'>On his dark face a scorching clime,</div> + <div class='line'>And toil, hath done the work of time—</div> + <div class='line'>Roughened his brow, his temples bared.</div> + <div class='line'>And sable hairs with silver shared;</div> + <div class='line'>Yet left—what age alone could tame—</div> + <div class='line'>The lip of pride, the eye of flame.</div> + <div class='line'>The lip that terror never blenched,</div> + <div class='line'>The eye where teardrop never quenched</div> + <div class='line'>The flash severe of swarthy glow</div> + <div class='line'>That scorned pain and mocked at woe.</div> + <div class='line in28'><span class='sc'>Walter Scott.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c008'>The interruption proceeded from the voice of the hall +footman, saying in a rather insolent tone:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, then, you can step in here, my man! There is no +one in here, and you can go in here and wait till I go and +tell my master that you want to see him,” adding in a +lower tone: “There’s nothing in there he can steal, I +reckon, ’cept ’tis some moldy old books.”</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_256'>256</span>The door was thrown open, and while the steps of the +footman were heard retreating a most disreputable-looking +tramp entered the study and stood boldly up before the +party therein.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Now while the commodore and the lady are gazing in +stupefied astonishment at this impudent intruder, I will endeavor +to describe him.</p> + +<p class='c009'>He was a tall, dark, gaunt man, whose long, thin, swarthy +face was hedged in by a wild, neglected thicket of grizzled +black hair and beard, and whose fierce, burning black eyes +were overhung by thick, shaggy black brows. He wore an +old suit of clothes that might have once been of any color, +but was now of none; around his neck a dingy woolen +scarf; on his feet a pair of broken shoes; in his hand a torn +hat. He was altogether a wayworn, travel-strained, dilapidated +and dangerous-looking customer, such as one would +not like to meet on a dark night or on a deserted road.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The commodore regarded him wrathfully, frowningly—the +lady, curiously, wistfully.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Who in the demon are you? What jail have you broken +out of? And what in the fiend’s name do you want here?” +sternly demanded the veteran; while the lady leaned forward, +gazing on the man with a strange, intense and breathless +interest.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Good heavens! Do you not know me, then?” demanded +the poor tramp in a voice full of anguish.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No! Never saw you in all the days of my life before, +and never wish to see you again! Begone!” exclaimed the +veteran; while the lady half arose from her seat, stared at +the stranger with eyes that widened and widened in amazement, +with lips breathlessly apart and color coming and +going rapidly.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Did you not get my letter, written from Marseilles, +then?” inquired the stranger.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“What in the demon’s name are you talking about? +You are drunk, man, or mad! Leave the house instantly!” +exclaimed the irate old gentleman, starting up as if he +would have ejected the intruder by main force, had he been +strong enough.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, my soul! my soul! Do <i>you</i> not know me—Lynny?” +pleaded the wanderer, turning his wild, sad, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_257'>257</span>prayerful eyes on the intense, listening, breathless, eager +face of the lady.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The question broke the spell that bound her.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“<span class='sc'>Saved!</span>” she cried, and her piercing shriek rang +through and through the house as she started up, threw +herself into the arms of the tramp and fainted dead away.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The sight and sound, but not the meaning, of this action +met the dulled senses of the aged veteran.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Starting to his feet in a fury, he thundered forth:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“What in the demon do you mean, you cursed villain, +by breaking into this room and frightening a lady into +fits? Lay her down on that sofa this instant, and don’t +presume to touch her again! Leave the house! Begone! +If you stop another second, Satan burn you! I’ll send you +to the county jail for six months! I’m in the commission +of the peace, and I’ll do it!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes. I had best go for the present. She has fainted. +Call her women to her,” said the tramp in a gentle tone, +as he laid his burden down with tender care upon the sofa.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“If you don’t take yourself out of this room in double-quick +time, you tramping thief, you’ll find yourself in a +pair of handcuffs on the road to prison before you know +it!” roared the commodore, as he seized and jerked the bell +rope violently.</p> + +<p class='c009'>But the sad wanderer had already left the study.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The commodore continued to ring the bell furiously, peal +upon peal, until the hall footman rushed in with alarm.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Go after that tramping vagabond and kick him out +of the house! Then call all the dogs and set them on him +and hunt him off the premises! Do you hear?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, sir,” replied the man as he went out, dismayed, +to give place to Wren, the little page, whom the violent +ringing of the bell had also brought to the scene.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“<span class='sc'>Water!</span>” cried the commodore, who was now engaged +in trying to recover the fainting woman.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The boy vanished and soon reappeared with a silver +pitcher and goblet.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The commodore poured some on his hand and threw it in +the face of the lady and waited for the effect, but she showed +no sign of consciousness.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_258'>258</span>“Brandy! From the beaufet! In the library!” he cried +in growing alarm.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The page ran away and soon re-entered with a decanter +and glass.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The commodore poured out a little of the brandy, and, +holding up the head of the helpless woman, tried to force +a few drops between her lips, but the liquid only tippled +over the surface.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I don’t know what on earth to do for her! She forbid +me to call the ladies to see her before she fainted, and it +seems hardly fair to do so now that she cannot defend herself! +And I don’t know how to recover her, not I!” cried +the commodore in despair. Then turning furiously on the +footman, who had re-entered the study, he demanded:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Did you do as I ordered? Did you kick that vagrant +out and set the dogs on him?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, sir,” replied the man, unhesitatingly telling a fib, +for he had not sought for the poor tramp with any such +cruel intention, as was afterward proved.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Served him right! Glad to hear it!” grunted the old +man, as he recommenced his efforts to recover his patient, +but in vain. Suddenly he remembered the presence of the +physician in the house, and wondered he had not thought +of him before.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Go and ask Dr. Willet to be kind enough to step here +immediately,” he said.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“If you please, sir, Dr. Willet has gone out,” said the +footman.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Gone out! the deuce! How unlucky! Where has he +gone?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“If you please, sir, to the Wilderness Manor-house. Mr. +John Palmer he came all in a hurry for de doctor, sir, to +go to the ageable old woman what is dying dere and +wants to see the doctor afore she goes, which dey don’t think +she can last another day, sir.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“How very unfortunate!” exclaimed the old man, who +never ceased from his ineffectual efforts to recover his patient. +“I do not know where to turn! She will die, and +all on account of that cursed tramp!” Then bursting forth +like a storm upon the head of the footman, he violently demanded:</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_259'>259</span>“And what did <i>you</i> mean, you rascal, by sending that +ruffian in here to frighten this poor lady to death? Yes, +to <i>death</i>, you villain! And when she dies I’ll have you +hanged for murder! I will, by my life! Why don’t you +answer me, you scoundrel? What did you mean by showing +that burglar, that robber, that cut-throat, into this room +to kill this lady?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“’Deed, ’deed, I ’elare to my Judge, marster, I never +knowed nobody was in here, which dere almost never is +nobody in here; and I didn’t know nothing about the lady +wisiter, as she must a-come on along of Dr. Willet or Lieutenant +Bruce, ’cause I didn’t let her in myself and didn’t +know nothing about it, sir; and likewise thought as you +was in the libery. And as for the tramp, sir, he did say +as he wanted to speak to you werry particular, to bring +you news of a long-absent friend——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“An excuse to beg! An excuse to beg! Or to swindle! +Or to extort money! What did the ruffian call himself?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“He ’clined to give no name, sir, but said how you’d +know him when you seed him.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“An impudent liar! I never set eyes on him before. +I wish I had committed him!” exclaimed the old man, who +was all this time diligently chafing the temples of the unconscious +woman with hartshorn.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“So I just put him in here to wait, sir, where I thought +there wa’n’t nobody sitting, nor likewise nothing to steal, +’cept ’twas them old, worm-eaten books in the old screwter.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Worm-eaten books, you villain! My precious blackletter +copies of the early Christian fathers? If the thief +had gone off with any of them, your hide should have paid +for it! Oh, Heaven! No change in her yet! I <i>must</i> have +woman’s help here,” said the commodore, breaking off in his +abuse of the servant and attentively regarding the marble +face below him. “See here, sir! Go and ask my sister +to come here immediately! Don’t alarm her, you rascal! +Don’t say a word about the fainting lady! Just deliver +my message.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>The footman, glad to escape, hurried out of the room to +obey this order.</p> + +<p class='c009'>While he was gone the old man continued to chafe the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_260'>260</span>temples or beat the hands of his patient and groan over her +and curse the tramp.</p> + +<p class='c009'>In a few minutes the widowed sister came in, saying +pleasantly:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Did you want me, brother?” Then seeing the motionless +form of a woman extended on the sofa, she started and +exclaimed: “Who is that?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Come here, Margaret. Don’t scream nor cry, nor above +all, don’t faint. One fainting woman is as much as I can +get along with at one time,” said the commodore, taking +his sister by the arm and leading her to the sofa.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But who is this lady? What ails her? How came she +here?” inquired the puzzled woman, bending over the unconscious +form.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Don’t you recognize her? Look again,” said the old +man uneasily.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, I do not,” replied the lady, after a careful scrutiny.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I believe you are right; for now I come to think of it, +you never met her.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But who is she?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>The old man hesitated for one weak moment, and then +loyally answered:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“This lady is Emolyn Bruce, the widow of my poor, dear +Lonny.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>The widow’s brown eyes opened wide in amazement as +she answered in a low, frightened voice:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I never knew that Leonidas had been married!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“<i>I</i> did! I knew it long ago; but I had good reason to +suppose that his poor young wife had not long survived his +loss. She has reappeared, however, I thank Heaven! And +here she lies, fainting, dying, for aught I know. Margaret, +dear woman, don’t stop to ask another question, but help +me to save her!” anxiously exclaimed the old man.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Controlling the extreme curiosity awakened by the situation, +the lady knelt by the side of the sofa and began to +loosen the sufferer’s clothes to facilitate breathing.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“She must be got to bed at once. The parlor chamber +happens to be in order. We will convey her there. Ring +for two women to come and help to lift her,” were the first +words with which the widow broke the silence.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_261'>261</span>The commodore complied with this direction, and then +came back to the side of his sister, saying:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“For Heaven’s sake, Margaret, let all be done tenderly +and very quietly. There must not be a nine days’ wonder +created in the house.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Of course not. I should deprecate such a state of +things as much as you could.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And, Margaret, you have a heart. I need not, therefore, +beg you to be very gentle with this suffering girl when +she recovers her consciousness.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Be sure that I will treat her as I would treat my own +child,” said the widow, and her sympathetic face confirmed +the truth of her words.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Go and send Dorcas and Lydia here,” said the commodore +to the little page who appeared in answer to the +bell.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The child ran on his errand, and two strong colored +women made their appearance.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Under the lady’s instructions Emolyn Bruce was tenderly +lifted and conveyed to the parlor chamber, where she was +undressed, clothed in a white wrapper and put to bed.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The old commodore, who had followed the party to the +chamber door without daring to enter, hovered on the outside, +waiting for news.</p> + +<p class='c009'>In a few minutes, however, his sister opened the door +and beckoned him to come in.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She led him to the side of the bed, where Emolyn lay +as white and motionless as a marble effigy on a marble +tomb.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I wish to consult you, brother,” whispered the widow, +as they stood together looking down on the beautiful pale +face before them.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Do you think there is any danger, Margaret?” anxiously +inquired the veteran.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, for I have known women to lay in fainting fits +much longer than this and recover without injury; but her +breath scarcely dims the glass held to her lips, and her +pulse is scarcely perceptible; and I think you had better +call Dr. Willet.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“The deuce of it all is that Willet has gone to the Wilderness +Manor-house to see that old paralytic. He could not +<span class='pageno' id='Page_262'>262</span>be brought back before night, when he will come back of his +own accord. Meanwhile what <i>shall</i> we do, Margaret?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Use the means within our reach and wait the issue. It +must have been some terrible shock that threw her into +this state. May I <i>now</i> inquire what it was, brother? You +need not tell me if you do not wish to,” said the widow.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It was a cursed tramp!—a black-visaged, red-eyed, elflocked +cut-throat, who looked like a fiend from the Inferno, +with all the sulphurous smoke and fire hanging around +him! I wish I had a hand on him now! I’d break his +diabolical neck and send him back to Tartarus, where he +belongs!” wrathfully exclaimed the commodore.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Hush! She moves, I think,” said the lady; and both +watchers bent eagerly over the entranced form.</p> + +<p class='c009'>But they were mistaken. She did not move, nor, though +her attendants continued their efforts to recover her, did +she show any sign of consciousness until nearly an hour had +passed away.</p> + +<p class='c009'>When at length she sighed and stirred, Dorcas raised her +head while the lady placed a glass of wine to her lips so +that she mechanically swallowed the stimulant.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Revived by the wine, she opened her eyes, sat up in bed +and gazed around in confusion for a moment.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Then a paroxysm of sadness seemed to sweep over her. +She pressed her hands upon her eyes, upon her brows, upon +her temples, pushed back her hair and stared around with +starting orbs and open mouth, and then suddenly shrieked +forth:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Where is he? Oh, where is he? Where? Where?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“He is gone, my dear. Don’t be afraid. Calm yourself. +It is all right,” answered the commodore soothingly; for he +thought her excitement was caused by revived terror of +the tramp.</p> + +<p class='c009'>At the words of the old man she turned her wildly roving +eyes on him with an intense stare of astonishment.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Gone! Gone! Did you say gone? Oh, <i>where</i>, has he +gone? <i>Why</i> did you let him go?” she cried with frantic +eagerness.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I wish I hadn’t. I wish I had committed him to prison, +only there wasn’t sufficient grounds. But don’t be frightened. +Compose yourself, my dear. You are just as safe +<span class='pageno' id='Page_263'>263</span>from him as if he was in prison. He will never come back +to bother us, after being kicked out the house by the servant +and hunted off the land by the dogs!” said the commodore, +laying his hand tenderly on the head of the excited woman, +who had not for one instant ceased to rave.</p> + +<p class='c009'>But she dashed it off, fiercely exclaiming:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, you cruel, ruthless, remorseless man! I feared you +would do so! I feared you would! <i>That’s why I never +told you!</i> Why he could never persuade me to tell you, +you wicked, vindictive man——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“She is hysterical, she does not know what she says,” +said the widow, while Emolyn continued to rave in growing +excitement.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“She is delirious, quite so! I wish Willet would return,” +sighed the commodore.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am <i>not</i> delirious! It is <i>you</i> who are mad with hatred +and revenge—unnatural, monstrous hatred and revenge, +after all these years! Go bring him back! If he had been +the prodigal son, you should have received him! But he +was no prodigal! Not even a prodigal! And you turned +him out! You hunted him off! Go bring him back! Go +bring him back if you wish to escape perdition!” she continued +to cry in what seemed to her attendants a frenzy of +insanity.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You see she had been talking about her husband when +this cut-throat ruffian came in and frightened her into fits, +and now she has got all mixed up in her impressions,” +whispered the commodore, while the excited woman continued +to rave in the same strain without a moment’s cessation.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“This <i>must</i> be stopped. I shall give her a dose of +morphia,” whispered his sister; and she rose and left the +room for the expressed purpose.</p> + +<p class='c009'>And Emolyn raved on, bitterly reproaching the commodore.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Mad people always fly in the faces of their best friends,” +said the old man, as he continued his efforts to calm the +frantic woman.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The widow returned, bringing a small glass of port wine, +with which she had mixed a dose of morphia.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Here, my poor girl, drink this and compose yourself,” +<span class='pageno' id='Page_264'>264</span>she said in her gentlest and most persuasive tones, as she +held the glass to Emolyn’s lips.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“If I do, will you send at once and bring him back?” +demanded Emolyn, fixing her wild, excited, pleading eyes +on the face of the lady.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“<i>Indeed I will</i>,” she answered.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Because he can go with me to the island, where we will +live like Adam and Eve in Eden—<i>without the serpent</i>.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“So you shall, my dear, <i>if you wish</i>,” said the lady.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Emolyn took the glass, drank the contents and threw +herself back on the pillow.</p> + +<p class='c009'>In a few moments she was quiet, in a few more she was +asleep.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now,” said the lady, “you must send and seek that +tramp and have him brought back to the house.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“In the name of Heaven, <i>why</i>?” demanded the commodore.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“First, because I promised, and I will not break a promise, +even when it is given to humor a delirious patient; and, +secondly, because I do think <i>there is more in this than appears</i>,” +replied the lady.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“What should there be in it?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I don’t know. But find the man and bring him here.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>The commodore expostulated and swore.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The lady persisted and gained her point.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The order was given and the servants started on their +quest.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Emolyn slept on, hour after hour watched by the widow.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The servants returned from their long and careful +search with the news that the tramp could not be found.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Why are you so anxious to have that ruffian brought +back?” demanded the provoked commodore of his sister, as +they stood together beside the sleeper.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I have told you the reason,” said the lady—“that +Emolyn shall be satisfied.”</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_265'>265</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XXXII<br> <span class='c006'>THE TRAMP’S STORY</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c007'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in4'>Of most disastrous chances,</div> + <div class='line'>Of moving accidents by flood and field,</div> + <div class='line'>Of being taken by the insolent foe</div> + <div class='line'>And sold to slavery.</div> + <div class='line in30'><span class='sc'>Shakespeare.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c008'>“Better so,” sighed the poor tramp to himself, as, when +ejected from the study, he paused in the front hall, which +happened for the moment to be deserted. “Yes, better so. +I came too suddenly upon them, and they had not got my +letter. I did not mean to shock them so; but what did that +blundering negro mean by springing me upon them in that +startling manner? He told me there was no one in the +study. Well, possibly he thought so. It can’t be helped +now. I must be patient, though it seems harder to wait +minutes now than it was to wait years in the hopeless +past.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Then instead of leaving the house, as the commodore had +peremptorily commanded him to do, the “cut-throat” threw +himself down into a chair, dropped his hat by his side, and +stretched out his limbs with the air of a man who meant +to remain and make himself at home, while he continued +his mental soliloquy:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“The man I met on the road and questioned about the +family told me there was an old Dr. Willet on a visit here—our +old family physician, of course. If I could only catch +sight of him now and make myself known, I could procure +a decent suit of clothes before presenting myself to any +one else. But would he recognize me? ‘Ay, there’s the +rub.’ The old man did not; but then his sight is dimmed +by age. Ah, he has grown very aged since I saw him last—more +aged even than his years would warrant—not in +temper, though! Whew! what a fury he was in when he +turned me out! He would have hurled a chair at me and +broken my head if I had hesitated another moment! It +was hard to go and leave her fainting there, but I know +<span class='pageno' id='Page_266'>266</span>to have stayed would have made matters so much worse, +even for her. How lovely she looked! Yet colorless as +marble, with the traces of sorrow on her beautiful face! +<i>She</i> recognized me, my love! my own——Hallo, who +comes here? Some one who will make me welcome or show +me the door?” asked the tramp to himself as he saw a white-haired +old gentleman slowly descending the stairs.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It is Dr. Willet! He has grown gray since I saw him +last, but I should know that eagle’s beak of a nose of his +anywhere under the sun. I’ll stop him.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>The good physician was about to pass the stranger with +a kindly nod when the latter accosted him:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Dr. Willet.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, my friend, what can I do for you?” inquired the +kind-hearted physician, very naturally supposing that his +professional services were required by some poor patient. +And he stopped.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Sir,” said the tramp very gravely, “I wish you, if you +please, to look at me well and tell me if you remember me.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>The doctor, surprised and puzzled by this address, looked +long and wistfully into the face of the stranger, first to see +if he could recognize him, secondly to see if he was mad or +drunk.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well?” queried the tramp in an anxious tone.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“As far as I can recollect, I never met you in my life before; +though I may have done so in some hospital, where in +many years I have treated many transient patients. Was +it there I made your acquaintance?” inquired the doctor.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, I was never in a hospital since I was born, and I +was never a patient of yours, doctor—though, indeed, I +believe you were the very first to introduce me to my nearest +relations and friends on the occasion of my first appearance +in this world, some thirty-five years ago,” said the tramp, +with a gleam of that native, irrepressible humor which +years of servitude and sorrow had not been able to extinguish.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The doctor looked at him long and seriously, and then +said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am responsible for many such introductions, my +friend; though I cannot be expected to remember the faces +of all to whom I officiated as gentleman usher. But you +<span class='pageno' id='Page_267'>267</span>appear to be in need. Tell me how I can best help you and +I will do so willingly.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am no invalid and no beggar, Dr. Willet! I ask only +for recognition. I can command everything else,” said the +tatterdemalion, drawing himself up with dignity.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Lord bless my soul alive!” exclaimed the astonished +and bewildered doctor, as he put on his spectacles and +looked again at this <i>strange</i> stranger, who looked like a +gypsy and talked like a king.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The tramp bore the scrutiny well.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Come nearer the light, sir,” he said, moving toward the +open, sunny back door.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Can’t you tell me who you are at once, man? Only +mention your name, and if I ever heard if before it will +bring you to my memory,” said Dr. Willet, as he followed +him.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, sir; I must not name myself to you. I wish <i>you</i> +to do that first. I wish to test your memory and prove my +own identity. Come, sir, I will stand facing the open door. +You will please place yourself in the most favorable position +and examine my features under the full light of the +sun.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Lord bless my soul alive, what does it all mean?” again +exclaimed Dr. Willet, as he planted himself within two +feet of the stranger, adjusted his glasses and stared at +him.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now, sir, be kind enough to look in my eyes, for they +change least of all. And while you do so, I may prompt +your memory a little——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am perplexed, but not in despair,” murmured the +doctor to himself.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You knew me from infancy to manhood. Then you +lost sight of me,” continued the tramp.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Lord—have——” slowly began the doctor, but the +words died on his lips as he stared with reviving recollection +of the speaker.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am the son of one of the oldest and dearest of your +friends——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Mercy on——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Missing for many years——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Our souls!”</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_268'>268</span>“Falsely supposed to have been lost at sea——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“<span class='sc'>You are Lonny Bruce!</span>” cried the doctor, reeling back +as if he had been shot.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, I am Lonny Bruce! Now don’t <i>you</i> go and faint—that’s +a good fellow! Brace up!” exclaimed the tramp, +with half a laugh.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Lon—ny Bruce!” reiterated the doctor, as he leaned +against the wall which had stopped him in his backward +reel—“Lon—ny Bruce! And you are really alive?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I rather think I am; but are <i>you really</i> sure you recognize +me? Because, you see, if you want any of the proofs +usually required on such occasions—the ripe strawberry +on my breast, or the tattooed anchor on my back, or any +other birthmark or branded scar, why, it will be very awkward, +for I haven’t such a thing about me—no, not even so +much as a mole. Nature and Fortune left all that out. +So it is extremely important that you should be able to +identify me without their help. Are you sure you know +me now?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes; I should know you among a thousand,” replied +the doctor, who, still leaning for support against the wall, +continued to stare at the returned exile.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Could you swear to me if called upon to do so?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“On a stack of Bibles as high as the Pyramids of +Egypt.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“One will do,” said Lonny.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But how did you escape? Where have you been these +seventeen years? Why didn’t you come home long ago +or write? Have you seen your father?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Whist! Whist! for Heaven’s sake! To answer a tithe +of your questions, doctor, would keep me here all day +long. Now that you see and know me, you must perceive +that I am in want of everything and everything else. First +and most of all a bath, a barber and a clean shirt. I must +be metamorphosed into a Christian before I present myself +again to my old father, when, it is to be hoped, he will +acknowledge his son. And then in good time, dear friend, +I will satisfy your curiosity. Oh! you shall hear a story +as long and as full of adventure as the Arabian Nights +Entertainments! Oh, what a fireside treat you will have +<span class='pageno' id='Page_269'>269</span>this winter if you stay with us! But come. Are you going +to help me?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>The doctor, who had been thinking profoundly while the +returned man spoke, now looked up and asked:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Why not go to your father just as you are?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Like the prodigal son! Lord bless you, so I did! But +the old gentleman didn’t fall on my neck and kiss me worth +a cent! He didn’t know me from the king of the Cannibal +Islands! He stormed and threatened me with the constable +and a prison if I did not march double-quick! I obeyed +him and an instinct of self-preservation and left the room. +To have remained another minute would have been unwholesome.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ah! if I were blind, I should know you now for Lonny +Bruce! Should know you from that buoyancy of spirit that +no misfortune could repress,” said the doctor.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Thanks, but I want my father to know me,” said the +tramp.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Very well, I will try to help you. Come with me,” +said the doctor; and he led the way to the long drawing-room, +which was now closed and vacant and never opened +or tenanted except on “high days and holidays.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Come in here, where no one will think of intruding on +you, and remain while I go in search of your Cousin Ronald,” +said the doctor, as he opened the door and preceded +the stranger into the apartment.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“My Cousin Ronald! What! The little lad I left in the +schoolroom when I went to sea? Is he in the house?” inquired +Lonny, with a gleam of delight in his dark eyes, +as he entered the room and dropped into the nearest easy-chair.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes; but he is not a little lad now, by any manner +of means! He is even a bigger lad than you, if anything. +I will send him to you at once. He will take you to his +room and attend to all your wants. Unluckily, Lonny, I +must leave you.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Must you? I am sorry. I would like the circle of +friends to be complete to-day,” said Leonidas with a look +of disturbance.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Why, so should I; but I am called to an old patient +<span class='pageno' id='Page_270'>270</span>of mine who is lying dangerously ill at the Wilderness +Manor-house. At the moment you stopped me I was even +then on my way to join the messenger who was waiting in +his wagon to take me away.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, indeed, I see that you have no time to spare; so +don’t let me detain you,” said the young man with visible +reluctance.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, not a moment more even to bestow on such a joyful +arrival as yours. Lord bless my soul! how strange all +this is! I never was so unwilling to obey a professional +call in my life. However, I will dispatch Ronald to you +immediately.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>So saying the good doctor hurried out of the drawing-room +and upstairs to the private apartment of Lieutenant +Bruce.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Time being too precious to permit much ceremony, he +entered without knocking, and found the young gentleman +sitting at his table absorbed in writing a letter—to Em., +most likely, as he was so deeply engaged as not to be disturbed +even by the bustling entrance of the old physician.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“<span class='sc'>Lieutenant!</span>” exclaimed the latter.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, doctor,” cried the young man, starting to his feet. +“What news? Has the lady succeeded in bringing my +uncle to reason?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“The lady is still with your uncle, I believe, though I +don’t know. But I haven’t come about your sweetheart, +Ronald, but about something of more pressing importance; +and I haven’t time to break the news, so you must brace +yourself at once for a severe shock. Are you braced?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes,” answered the young man, turning white as death +and setting his teeth firmly; for he knew not what disastrous +stroke he was to be called upon to bear. “Yes, I am +ready.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now, then, think of Alexander Selkirk, Robinson +Crusoe, La Parouse, Captain John Riley, the Swiss Family +Robinson, the four Russian Sailors, the——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“In the name of Heaven, man, speak!” exclaimed the +lieutenant.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“—And Lonny Bruce! there, it’s out!” said the doctor.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“What in the world do you mean?” demanded the young +<span class='pageno' id='Page_271'>271</span>officer, wondering if the staid old physician, for the first +time in his life, had taken a glass too much.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Haven’t I told you? Lonny Bruce has come home.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“WHAT!” cried Ronald, starting to his feet.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Lonny Bruce, so long supposed to have been lost at sea, +has come home, safe and sound, as many a missing man +has done before him!” repeated the doctor.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Ronald stared as if his eyes would have started from +their sockets.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Do you hear me? Can’t you take it in yet? I tell you +Lonny Bruce has come home! He is in this house at this +present time; I have seen him and spoken with him.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Do I——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, you do. You hear exactly right!” exclaimed the +doctor, impatiently interrupting the bewildered speaker. +“You are not dreaming nor are you mad; neither am I! +You are wide awake and in your right mind, and so am I +who tell you all this strange news. Now listen, Ronald +Bruce, for I have got to hurry off to old Nancy Whitlock, +who is in extremity. John Palmer has been waiting to take +me to the Wilderness in his wagon for half an hour or more, +so I have no time for further explanation. Lonny Bruce +is below. No one except you and myself dreams of his +presence in the house. You will find him in the long drawing-room +needing all sorts of attention. Rouse yourself! +Go to him! Rise to the occasion, man!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>So saying the doctor hurried off, leaving the young lieutenant +standing there in a state of stupefaction from which +indeed he found it difficult to rise.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The rumbling of the wagon wheels that carried the doctor +off was the first sound that broke the spell that bound him.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Then he started like one awakened from a dream, walked +downstairs and opened the door leading into the long drawing-room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The place was half dark, for all the window shutters +were closed; so the young lieutenant walked in slowly, peering +curiously to the right and left.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_272'>272</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XXXIII<br> <span class='c006'>WELCOME</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c007'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“Oh, it fills my soul with joy</div> + <div class='line'>To greet my friends once more.”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c008'>“Here I am! Here is your disreputable-looking cousin! +I had better proclaim my name and rank, lest the good +doctor has not prepared you to meet a ragamuffin!” said a +voice from a remote corner as tall and shadowy figure arose +and emerged from the darkness.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The lieutenant threw open a window-shutter, let in a +flood of light, and turned at once to meet his kinsman.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You are Leonidas Bruce! Welcome! It seems incredible—impossible! +but you <i>are</i> Leonidas Bruce! I know you +at once by your eyes and smile. Welcome! Welcome! +Thank Heaven, you have lived to come back to us, though +at so late a day, and like one from the grave. Welcome! +Welcome! Welcome!” exclaimed Ronald Bruce as he heartily +shook both his cousin’s hands. If he had been of any +other Christian nation than English or American he would +have embraced and kissed his restored kinsman. But his +greeting was felt to be sufficiently heartful.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Tears sprang to Lonny’s eyes. For a few moments he +could not speak at all. Then he said, with much emotion:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You are the very first who has welcomed me home, +warmly and without doubt. My father drove me from his +presence. One nearer and dearer fainted at the sight of +me. Good Dr. Willet mistook me for a beggar and offered +me alms. Only <i>you</i> knew me and welcome me at +once. But are you quite <i>sure</i> you know me?” inquired +Lonny with morbid and touching anxiety.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Quite sure. I never forget a face. Besides, your portrait, +taken just before you went away, has been familiar to +me from boyhood up; and you have not changed so much +from that.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But my father did not know me at all.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“His sight is very dim; besides, he was not prepared +to expect you, as I was.”</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_273'>273</span>“Dr. Willet did not know me at first, though he recognized +me afterwards.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“His vision is also somewhat impaired by age, though +not so much as your father’s, and, besides, <i>he</i> did not expect +to see you, either, as I did.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I wrote from Marseilles; but it seems my letter never +came to hand.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“The foreign mails are notoriously irregular; so are the +country mails; between them both your letter has been delayed +or miscarried. But come, Lonny! Though I am +devoured with curiosity, I will not ask you a single question, +for you seem to be in urgent need of rest and refreshment,” +said Ronald Bruce, turning toward the door.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Stay! Stay! If by refreshment you mean food, I do +not require any. I got a substantial meal from a hospitable +farmer on the Grey Rock Road. What I do need, as I explained +to Dr. Willet, is a bath, a barber, and a fresh suit +of clothes.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You shall have them all as expeditiously as possible.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Take me to your own room. You are at home here, I +suppose.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes; so are you; though the folks don’t know it as yet. +But come with me, so that I can attend to your wants.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Lonny turned to follow his cousin.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Just as they were about to pass into the hall Ronald saw +his Aunt Margaret descend the stairs and pass into the +little green study. He held Lonny back until she had disappeared.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“That was our aunt. I did not want her to see you. No +one must see you till you are dressed. Come now,” said +Ronald as he led the way upstairs.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Just as they passed into the lieutenant’s room a door on +the opposite side opened and Mrs. Bruce came out and +crossed the hall.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“That was my mother. Now we are safe from observation +at last,” said Ronald as he closed the door.</p> + +<p class='c009'>These were the only risks they ran of discovery.</p> + +<p class='c009'>As soon as they found themselves alone, Ronald turned +to his cousin and said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I know you do not wish to be seen by any one, not even +by a servant, until you are transfigured and renewed.”</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_274'>274</span>“No, indeed,” replied Lonny earnestly.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“All right; then I will lock the door and be your valet +myself!” said Ronald as he went and turned the key in +the door.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now look in here, Lonny,” he continued, opening an +inner door. “Here is a bathroom, with every possible convenience +for the toilet. Go in there and make ready, while +I lay out your clothes. I am a little larger than you, but I +guess mine will do for the present. Stay, however, I have +a thought!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“What is it?” inquired Lonny.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“An inspiration, my dear fellow!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Of what description?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You shall hear anon.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>And with these words Ronald unlocked the door and +passed out, carefully closing it behind him.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Lonny threw himself into a chair and waited, wondering +whether he or his friends were more eccentric than the rest +of the world.</p> + +<p class='c009'>His wonder was not lessened when Ronald reappeared, +lugging in that life-sized portrait of Lonny that had been +taken in his midshipman’s uniform, just before he went to +sea.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Ronald locked the door carefully and then stood the +picture on the floor, leaning against it, and said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Do you know that boy?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I <i>used</i> to know him some seventeen years ago, and a +sad dog he was, to be sure! He came to no good, I dare +say,” replied Lonny with a rueful smile.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, <i>that</i>,” said the lieutenant, rapping on the canvas, +“was the last his friends saw of him, was it not?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, <i>this</i>,” said Ronald, again rapping the canvas—“or +something very <i>like</i> this, must be the first his friends +see of him again! In other words, Lonny Bruce, you must +dress to match your portrait of seventeen years ago, so that +your friends may know you at a glance. Do you understand?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, but it will be difficult.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Not at all! Listen now. I have the recipe, the pattern, +the programme, all cut, dried, and laid out! After you +<span class='pageno' id='Page_275'>275</span>have had your bath and put on fresh underclothing, we +must take the plantation barber so far into our confidence +as to let him cut and shave that bandit-like black beard of +yours, and trim those unkempt elf locks into civilized proportions. +Then you must put on my last midshipman’s +uniform, which is quite new and fresh, and which, having +been discarded by me two years ago, when I was promoted, +will probably fit you perfectly.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And so, when that toilet is completed, I shall come forth +a new, revised, and improved edition of the Midshipman +Lonny Bruce of seventeen years ago?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Exactly.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“An excellent idea! Thanks, Ronald! I am impatient +to act upon it. My father will be sure to recognize me +now,” said Lonny.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“All right,” laughed Ronald.</p> + +<p class='c009'>He then proceeded to open his wardrobe and bureau and +to lay out from them all necessary articles of apparel required +by the wanderer. Lastly, he unlocked a lumber +closet and took from its peg the midshipman’s uniform.</p> + +<p class='c009'>All these things he lifted in his arms and conveyed into +the communicating bathroom, saying as he came out: +“Now all is ready for you in there, Lonny. Go in and +get ready. I will go down and send the barber up here to +you, with directions to wait in this room until you want +him. Then I will go and find your father and break the +news of your return to him. But, for Heaven’s sake, Lonny, +do not leave this apartment until I come back for you.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Of course I will not,” replied the latter.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Lieutenant Bruce then left the room and went slowly +down the stairs, asking himself how on earth he should +ever be able to tell the commodore without killing him.</p> + +<p class='c009'>In the hall below he met his own servant, and to him he +said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Timothy, go and find the barber, and take him to my +room, and tell him to wait there until he is called. There is +a gentleman there who will require his services.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, sir. Did you hear, sir, about the robber what +broke inter de house dis morning and drawed a pistol on +Marse Commodore in de little green study, and scared one +<span class='pageno' id='Page_276'>276</span>of de ladies into fainty fits, and jumped clear through de +glass windy, and made off before any one could catch him?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh! yes, I heard all about him,” replied the young +gentleman, smiling to himself to see how the poor tramp’s +adventure had grown in the telling.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“We libs in awful times, marster,” added the man, who +seemed inclined to linger.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“We do, indeed. But now run and find the barber. Yet, +stay a moment. Where is the commodore?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“He been tending to de fainty lady ’til jes’ dis minute, +when he went to de liberary to ’ceive de mail-bag, which +de mail-boy have jes’ fotched in.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Very well. I shall find him there. Now run on your +errand.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>The boy obeyed, but the lieutenant stood still, ruminating +how he could ever with safety break to the long bereaved +old father the news of his son’s return, and praying that +it might be given him in that hour what to speak.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I have it!” he said to himself at length. “I have it! +The mail has just come in with the Washington and Richmond +papers! I will go in and take up one and offer to +read it to him. I will then pretend to read the heading of +an article: ‘Remarkable Return to Life.’ ‘Reappearance +of a young man long supposed to have been lost at sea.’</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And then I’ll read a rigmarole about somebody, or +rather nobody, that shall resemble Lonny’s arrival, and so +prepare the old man’s mind to hear the fact, by presenting +the possibility of such a thing. Bah! I know it will +throw him in a fit, all the same,” concluded the poor lieutenant +as he opened the library door and went in.</p> + +<p class='c009'>He found the old commodore seated in his big arm-chair +at the table, holding an open letter in his shaking hand and +staring at it with starting eyes.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The young man saw, as by a flash of lightning, what had +occurred. The commodore held in his hand the long-delayed +letter from Marseilles, referred to by poor Lonny, announcing +his existence and intended return.</p> + +<p class='c009'>No need of breaking news here.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ronald! For Heaven’s sake, look at this!” exclaimed +Commodore Bruce as soon as he saw his nephew. The lieutenant, +instead of immediately complying with his uncle’s +<span class='pageno' id='Page_277'>277</span>request, went to the buffet, poured out a glass of cognac, and +took it to the old man, who received it with a trembling +hand and drank it at a draught.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ronald! Ronald! You are shocked to see me in this +state; but if you knew the contents of this letter you would +wonder you had not found me stone dead in my chair, +struck by a lightning flash of joy! Ronald! You may +marry the girl you love now! You may do anything in the +world you like to make yourself happy! I would all the +world were as happy as I am now! There! Read the letter. +I—read it!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>He stopped, for he was tremendously agitated.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The lieutenant took the letter. It was short and crudely +written, as by a hand long unaccustomed to the use of the +pen. It was dated Marseilles, September 1st, and it told, +in a few brief words, of the wreck of the U. S. frigate +<i>Eagle</i> on the coast of Africa seventeen years before; of the +loss of all the officers and crew, with the exception of the +writer, who was rescued by the natives and carried captive +into the interior, where he had long remained; of his flight +to the seacoast after many ineffectual efforts; of his escape +on board of a French ship, and his voyage to Marseilles; of +his failure to find friends who would listen to or believe a +story that he could not prove; and finally of his being +obliged to work his passage home on board of a Baltimore +clipper, which would sail in a few days.</p> + +<p class='c009'>While Ronald Bruce read this letter the commodore, recovering +his voice, was pouring forth his emotions in a torrent +of exclamations.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“He was to follow the letter by the next ship, you see! +In a few days! The date of that letter is old! It has been +delayed! It was sent first to the Navy Department at +Washington, then forwarded here! Good Heaven, to think +of it! Even the consul at Marseilles discredited his story! +A half-naked vagabond, picked up by a French ship on the +coast of Africa and clothed by the humanity of the crew. +Obliged to work his passage home! It is my son, Lonny, +that I am talk of, Ronald—do you understand? My son, +Lonny Bruce, who was falsely supposed to have been lost +at sea seventeen years ago!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, yes, dear sir, I quite understand. I am reading +<span class='pageno' id='Page_278'>278</span>his letter,” said the young man, trying to comprehend +through the confusion what he was reading.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“He will be here soon—very soon! Those Baltimore +clippers are fast sailers. He will go to Washington first—to +the Navy Department—to find out where I am. Then he +will post here!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>The impetuous torrent of language poured forth by the +old man in his excessive excitement made it almost impossible +for the young lieutenant to get in his word “edgeways;” +but at length he had an opportunity of saying:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“If Lonny has neither money nor friends he may have +to <i>tramp</i> all the way from Baltimore to Washington, and +from Washington here.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“So he may, poor dear fellow,” said the commodore +musingly.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“By the way, did not that strange <i>tramp</i> who came here +this morning say something about a letter from Marseilles +which should have preceded him?” inquired Ronald meaningly.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The old man started, looked keenly at the younger one +for a moment, then doubling his fist and bringing it down +upon the table, he smote it smartly, exclaiming:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“What an idiot! What a monster I have been! He was +my Lonny! And <i>she</i> knew him! Oh! it is all clear enough +now! What a jolter-headed beast I have been! No wonder +strangers discredited his story when his own father disowned +him!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Do not reproach yourself, sir! Not dreaming of seeing +your son, how should you have known him after so many +years and in that strange dress?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“By nature, sir! By nature, if I had not been an unnatural +monster!” cried the commodore, springing up and +striking out for the bell rope.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“What are you about to do?” inquired Ronald, intercepting +him.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ring up the whole house and start them in pursuit of +him.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I thought that had been already tried without success.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“True, true,” said the commodore, sinking back in his +seat. “He could not be found. He has taken a temporary +shelter in some farmer’s house, doubtless. But he will come +<span class='pageno' id='Page_279'>279</span>back before night. He could never imagine that I would +deny <i>him</i>!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, never; and I dare say he never even left the house +at all, but is waiting in some vacant room for a good chance +to make himself known.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Nothing more likely!” exclaimed the commodore, standing +up again. “They have looked for him too far away. +They have <i>over</i>looked him. They should have sought him +nearer at hand.” And so saying he went for the bell.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Stay! do not call a servant! Let me go and institute a +search,” said the lieutenant.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, thanks, that is better,” agreed the old man.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Ronald Bruce left the library and flew, bound beyond +bound, up the stairs to the chamber where he had left +Lonny.</p> + +<p class='c009'>He found the “tramp” washed, combed, shaved, trimmed, +dressed, and looking not like the original of his portrait, +but like the elder brother of the original.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The plantation barber, having finished his work, had left +the room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Come,” said Ronald, “he is waiting to see you. No +preparation was needed; I found him reading your letter, +which had just arrived. Come.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Lonny joined his cousin at once, and both, with beating +hearts, went below.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Go in alone. I cannot intrude on such a meeting,” +whispered Ronald Bruce as they reached the door.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Lonny passed into the library.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The commodore stood in the middle of the room, with a +look of expectancy on his aged face.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Father!” exclaimed Lonny, hastening towards him.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The old man started forward and caught his son to his +heart, exclaiming:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Lonny! Lonny! My son! My son! Oh, joy!”</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_280'>280</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XXXIV<br> <span class='c006'>FATHER AND SON</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c007'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>And doth not a meeting like this make amends</div> + <div class='line in2'>For all the long years I’ve been wandering away?</div> + <div class='line'>To see thus around me my youth’s early friends,</div> + <div class='line in2'>As smiling and kind as in that happy day?</div> + <div class='line'>Tho’ surely, o’er some of your brows, as o’er mine,</div> + <div class='line in2'>The snow-fall of life may be stealing—what then?</div> + <div class='line'>Like Alps in the sunset, new lighted, in fine,</div> + <div class='line in2'>We’ll wear the warm hue of youth’s roses again.</div> + <div class='line in47'><span class='sc'>Anon.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c008'>The silence of unutterable emotion fell upon the father +and son for a few moments, and then the old man held the +younger one off at arm’s length and gazed wistfully into his +face, saying, as he slowly shook his white head:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You are not so much changed since I saw you last on +the day you sailed on that disastrous voyage, my boy; not +so much changed, after all. Somewhat taller and gaunter in +form, darker in complexion, and older in aspect than formerly, +but not so much as might have been expected after +seventeen years of captivity among barbarians. I am more +changed than you are, my son. Ah! I have grown very +aged in the long years of your absence and supposed death, +Lonny.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, father, you and I are both traveling towards—eternal +youth.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And your mother, Lonny—your mother——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Here the old man’s voice became choked with emotion.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Don’t, father, don’t. I heard all that in the city. +Strangers to me, who would not credit my story, yet remembered—could +tell me—how——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Here Lonny’s voice broke down.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“She could not survive the news of that fatal week,” said +the commodore, struggling for self-command. “She could +not live to see this day, Lonny.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Don’t, father, don’t! Don’t say that! We know, when +we <i>think</i> about it, that she <i>has</i> lived to see this day, though +<span class='pageno' id='Page_281'>281</span>from a higher sphere. She has lived in heaven these many +years! Father, we <i>must</i> believe that, because she was so +good. And we shall find her there in good time if we, too, +lead good lives! And now, dear sir, tell me of—of Emolyn.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Your wife?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, my wife! You know it, then? She has told you? +I thought so when I saw her with you, but I was not sure, +so I spoke very cautiously of her to my Cousin Ronald.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, she told me,” admitted the commodore, but he did +not add how very recently Emolyn had made her appearance +and taken him into her confidence. To have done so +would have involved too much explanation for the moment.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“How is she and where is she now? I left her fainting. +It was hard to do so——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But you could not help yourself, as I was in such a +blind fury that I took you for a ruffian who had frightened +her half to death, and so I ordered you off, and of course +to have persisted in staying would have made matters much +worse for the fainting woman.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, but how is she and where is she at this moment? +I am most anxious to see her. She recognized me, you +know.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, and when she recovered from her swoon she became +so wild, and excitable, and reproached us so bitterly for letting +you go, and urged us so strenuously to fetch you back, +calling you always ‘him,’ and never using your name, that +we thought her hysterical or delirious, and so your good +aunt gave her a dose of morphia in a glass of port wine to +compose her nerves. I left her sleeping under the influence +of the opiate. You can come to her room, Lonny, and sit +by her bed and wait for her awakening; it cannot be far off +now.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Thank you, father, I will do so. Naturally, I wish to +see and speak with <i>her</i> before I do with anybody else,” said +the younger man, rising.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The commodore got up and led the way towards Emolyn’s +chamber.</p> + +<p class='c009'>In crossing the hall he encountered his nephew, Ronald +Bruce, and immediately stopped and hailed him in a loud +voice, saying:</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_282'>282</span>“Come here, you young scapegrace! I have got an errand +for you! One suited to your vagrant mind!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Ronald came, smiling, and stood before his uncle, cap in +hand.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“The Lady of Edengarden cannot leave her room to-day; +nor must her young companion, Miss Palmer, be left alone +or with only colored servants on the island. Take the boat, +therefore, and go to Edengarden, see the young lady, give +my respects to her and ask her, in my name, if she will do +us the favor to return with you and join her friend here, +who is too much indisposed at present to leave The Breezes. +And—tell her anything else you like, for I will not go back +on my promise, do you hear, you mutinous young dog?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I hear. ‘And to hear is to obey,’” said the lieutenant, +laughing, as he bowed and bounded away to order his boat.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And pray who is the Lady of Edengarden?” inquired +Lonny as they walked on.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Your Emolyn. The country people gave her this fantastic +title because she has the most beautiful island home +ever seen out of Paradise. It is near this place.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And has Ronald a little love affair on the premises, as +I should judge from your manner to him?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, yes! An innocent little love idyl with this lady’s +adopted child, protégée, or pet, whichever she may be called—a +love idyl against which I set my face for a whole summer, +and for no other reason than the girl is Ronald’s inferior +in birth and fortune, for in almost everything else +she is his superior—I can tell you that.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“She must be an excellent girl to have won such favor +from Emolyn,” said Leonidas Bruce thoughtfully.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes; but notwithstanding all that, I had set my face +against the affair, both for the reasons I have explained—her +want of rank and fortune—and also because I wished to +bring about a marriage between Ronald Bruce and his +Cousin Hermia, who, failing you, would have been my co-heirs. +But, bless you, the mutinous young dog would have +defied me, and disinherited himself, by marrying the girl +long ago, if it had not happened that her father was too +proud to permit his daughter to marry into a family where +she was not wanted, and the girl herself was too pious to +disobey her father. So, you see, the whole affair turned +<span class='pageno' id='Page_283'>283</span>upon the pivot of my will, and the rebellious young rascal +was forced to obey me, whether he would or no. However, +in my joy and gratitude at the news of your arrival, my +son, I told the young rebel that he might marry his love +if he wanted to, that I had withdrawn my opposition to his +marriage, and now I have sent him to bring the pretty child +here to her benefactress—your Emolyn. Not much magnanimity +in that, however, for now that your joyful return +has changed the face of affairs, so that Ronald is no longer +my heir, of course I have no longer any right to pretend to +control his freedom of action, or even any farther interest in +trying to promote a marriage between him and his cousin. +So I withdraw my opposition to his union with this child, +and as her father has now no excuse for withholding his +consent, I suppose he will give it. But whatever they will +have to live on except his pay I don’t know, unless indeed +your Emolyn should choose to endow her adopted child. +She could do so. She is fabulously rich. But here we are +at her door. There is no one but the old colored housekeeper +watching her now, so we may enter.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>They went into the room together.</p> + +<p class='c009'>It was in semi-darkness, for the better repose of the +sleeper. But the afternoon sun, shining against the heavy +crimson curtains of the front windows facing the west, +threw a deep, somber, ruddy glow over the richly furnished +chamber, and even lent a little color to the marble face of +her who lay in deep repose upon the white bed.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The old commodore went up to the bedside, followed by +Lonny.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The colored nurse respectfully arose from her seat, and +with a courtesy yielded her place to her master.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You may go now, Liddy. I will ring when we want +you,” said the latter.</p> + +<p class='c009'>With another courtesy the woman turned and left the +room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Sit you here yourself, Lonny,” said the commodore, +pointing to the chair by the side of the bed, which had just +been vacated by the nurse.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Lonny, who was at that moment standing at the head of +the bed gazing anxiously down on the still, pale face of the +sleeper, now almost breathlessly inquired:</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_284'>284</span>“Is she well, do you think?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Perfectly well, and when she wakes she will be prepared +to see you; for, mind you, she had already recognized you, +and before we could induce her to drink that glass of port +wine into which your aunt had put the dose of morphia +I had to promise her that you should be sought for and +brought back, though little did we dream who you would +turn out to be when found. So she will really expect to see +you when she wakes. Therefore, all we have to do, Lonny, +is to sit here and watch for that awakening, which cannot +be far off. Meantime you can while away the hour by telling +me some of the strange adventures that you must have +had out in the wilds of Africa, or by asking me of anything +you wish to know concerning what has transpired here in +your absence.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But will our talking disturb Emolyn?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, not at all. We need not talk loud.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Will she sleep long?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I think not. If she should, we may safely awaken her +and give her a cup of strong coffee,” said the commodore.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Then they settled themselves down for a long talk.</p> + +<p class='c009'>But in all their conversation Commodore Bruce adroitly +avoided all mention of Emolyn’s long and fatal reticence +and her terrible trial; for not in that first day of happy +reunion could the father darken the son’s spirit with the +shadow of that long past tragedy.</p> + +<p class='c009'>No. He spoke of Emolyn’s goodness and popularity; of +her benefactions to the poor; of her extensive foreign travels; +of her lovely home in Edengarden; and of her affection for +her pretty namesake and lately adopted daughter, Emolyn +Palmer, whose cause she had been pleading, he said, at the +very moment Lonny had surprised them in the study.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Then my Emolyn will be made as happy by your consent +to their marriage as the young lovers themselves,” +said Lonny.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Quite,” replied the commodore.</p> + +<p class='c009'>But at the end of that interview the long absent, lately +returned husband was left in complete ignorance that a +child had been born to him, and that his wife had kept +the secret of their private marriage during all the long +<span class='pageno' id='Page_285'>285</span>years of his absence and up to within a few hours of his +return.</p> + +<p class='c009'>It was late in the afternoon when Emolyn gave signs of +awakening.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The commodore whispered to his son to withdraw for a +moment out of her range of vision.</p> + +<p class='c009'>When Lonny had done so the commodore stooped over +Emolyn.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She had awakened calmly, as all sound persons do after +an opiate.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Have you kept your promise to me?” she quietly questioned, +fixing her eyes upon those bent on her.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, of course. I always keep my promises. Every +officer and gentleman is bound to do so.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You have brought Lonny back? Oh, where is he? Why +doesn’t he come? Let me see him at once!” she vehemently +exclaimed. “It was cruel! cruel!—it was <i>mad</i> in you to +send him away at all! Why on earth——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Because I didn’t know him, child! My eyes are old, +and I took him for a——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>The good commodore had got in so many words “edgeways” +while she continued to speak; but now she vehemently +interrupted him with—</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Not know Lonny! Not know your own son! I beg +you to forgive me, though, for all my rudeness. I was so +excited—I was almost crazy; but, oh, please, <i>please</i>, bring +him to me at once!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I will, my dear, I will!” said the old man as he arose +from his seat, beckoned his son to approach and then glided +silently out of the room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Leonidas Bruce went towards his wife.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She had risen on her elbow, and was eagerly watching +the door out of which the commodore had passed. She +evidently expected Lonny’s entrance through that way.</p> + +<p class='c009'>But he came to her from the opposite direction, and said +softly:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Emolyn!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>With a slight cry she started, turned and threw her arms +about his neck as he bent over her.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, Emolyn, my beloved! This meeting pays us for all—does +<span class='pageno' id='Page_286'>286</span>it not?” he said as he clasped and pressed her to +his heart.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Instead of replying she burst into a storm of tears and +sobs, crying between her gasps:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, Lonny! Lonny! Oh, Lonny! Lonny!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>She was thinking at this hour of the child she had borne +and lost under such heart-rending, soul-harrowing disasters.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Her husband tried to soothe her. He thought she was +crying in memory of their long separation, which was like +the parting by death, as it was long supposed to be.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Do not weep so! You will make yourself ill. It <i>has</i> +been a long, dreary, hopeless absence—yes, and silent as the +grave; but it is over now, forever, dearest, and surely you +are glad I have come back at ‘long last?’ This meeting, I +repeat it, repays us for all the past.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes,” she said with a profound sigh.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And it is over now, dear Emolyn. That first parting +and long separation shall be our last also.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes,” she sighed.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“We meet now to part no more in this world, until the +Lord’s summons comes for one or the other, or both—I hope +it may be for both, Emolyn—to go ‘up higher.’”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, I hope it will be ‘for both,’” she added, wiping +her eyes and striving to command herself. She perceived +that he had not heard of the terrible ordeal through which +she had passed, and not for the world would she, any +sooner than his father, darken the first day of his return +with the knowledge of the blight that had fallen on her +young life. Later, Lonny should know all—<i>all!</i> but not +to-day, no, nor to-morrow. They must have a little rest +before such a revelation.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But that day of summons and departure is probably +far enough off for both of us, dear Emolyn. We are both +young yet. Remember, we married when we were children. +You a little over fifteen, I eighteen. Just seventeen years +and a half have passed. You are not yet quite thirty-three. +I no more than thirty-five. Why, unmarried people at that +age pass for young ladies and gentlemen! We have a long +time yet to live and love, even in this world, dear Lynny.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes,” she said, smiling.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_287'>287</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XXXV<br> <span class='c006'>A SUDDEN SUMMONS</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c007'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in24'>Prythee, say on;</div> + <div class='line'>The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim</div> + <div class='line'>A matter of moment.</div> + <div class='line in14'>I go, I go; look how I go;</div> + <div class='line'>Swifter than arrow from the Tartar’s bow.</div> + <div class='line in34'><span class='sc'>Shakespeare.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c008'>While the happy reunited pair spoke of future hopes +and plans, Commodore Bruce passed off to the long drawing-room, +rang for his servant and sent the man first, to go +in turn to every member of the family and request each one +to come thither, and then to call every domestic in the house +to the presence of the master.</p> + +<p class='c009'>While waiting for his orders to be obeyed the old commodore +walked slowly up and down the floor, muttering +to himself:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I dare say one-half of them already know the whole +truth, and the other half shrewdly suspect it! However, I +must make the announcement all the same, I suppose.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>In a few moments the ladies of the family began to drop +in. First came Mrs. Catherine Bruce and Hermia; next +Mrs. Warde and Belinda.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The commodore requested them to sit down and wait for +a few minutes longer.</p> + +<p class='c009'>At length the household servants came, with faces full +of interest and curiosity.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The old gentleman’s conjecture as to their knowledge +and their suspicions was about half right. The crowd before +him knew that something extraordinary, connected +with a tramp, had occurred; but they were far from knowing +what it really was.</p> + +<p class='c009'>They stood now, eagerly waiting for the master of the +house to enlighten them.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Commodore Bruce did this in a very few words:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I have to announce to you joyful intelligence. My son, +Mr. Leonidas Bruce, long supposed to have been lost in the +wreck of the United States ship <i>Eagle</i>, has returned unexpectedly +<span class='pageno' id='Page_288'>288</span>to-day. He is now in this house, as is also his +wife, Emolyn, whom you have all heard of as the Lady of +Edengarden. They are to remain here, I hope. Those +among you who remember Mr. Bruce in his boyhood shall +have an opportunity of shaking hands with him after dinner. +Later you shall hear more. This is all I have to +tell you. No! no demonstrations—not even congratulations +yet! I will have none—I——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>But before the commodore could utter another word every +arm went waving aloft over every head, and a unanimous—</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!” burst from the crowd of +servants.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“As if it were reasonable, or even possible, to prevent +that!” whispered his sister Margaret, laying her hand soothingly +on the arm of the exasperated commodore.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The old man swallowed his rising wrath and merely said +to the offenders:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now, every man among you go quietly away to your +duties! Next Thursday—a week from to-day—being Hallow +Eve, you shall all have a thundering blow-out in honor +of this joyful occasion! No! No more hurrahing, you +villains! If there should be——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Hurrah! Hurrah!! Hurrah!!!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Begone!” said the commodore with a stamp.</p> + +<p class='c009'>And they hurried away, making the welkin ring as they +went with:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Hurrah! Hurrah!! Hurrah!!!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You really cannot expect anything else, and you should +not blame them,” said Mrs. Templeton, the peacemaker.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The commodore relieved his feelings by striking his thick +cane down heavily upon the floor.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But, now that the servants are gone, uncle, for Heaven’s +sake tell <i>us</i> all about this wonderful return,” exclaimed +Hermia.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, pray do!” chorused all the other ladies.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The old man looked at them mockingly for a space, and +then said bluntly:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I <span class='fss'>WON’T</span>! I have had excitement enough for one day, +and now I am going to my room to smoke. You’ll all see +Lonny and his wife at dinner. Yet stay—in this connection +I would add that the young girl, Emolyn Palmer, who +<span class='pageno' id='Page_289'>289</span>was our inmate a few weeks ago, is now the cherished pet of +the Lady of Edengarden, in consideration of which I have +sent for her to come and join us at dinner, and she will +probably remain our guest as long as her benefactress is +pleased to stay. Now pray ask no more questions, my dear, +for I have no more explanations to make at present. Mrs. +Warde, you look pale. I hope you are not indisposed.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Thanks, no; I am as well as usual,” answered the widow +in a constrained voice.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am glad to hear it. I want every one to feel well on +this happy day. Ladies, in good time you <i>shall</i> hear ‘all +about it;’ but for the present I must leave you and seek +needful repose.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>And so saying, with his ceremonious old bow, the commodore +left the room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Mrs. Warde stepped away to hide her agitation that the +news of Lonny’s return and the mention of his wife’s name +had raised in her conscious soul.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The other ladies remained for a few minutes, talking over +the extraordinary event of the day, and then separated to +go to their rooms and prepare a special toilet for the occasion.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Meanwhile Commodore Bruce had sought the refuge of +his library, dropped with a sigh of relief into his easy-chair, +and delivered himself to repose.</p> + +<p class='c009'>But his rest was of short duration. He had set too many +wires in motion that day to be left long in quietness. He +was soon interrupted by the entrance of Ronald with Em., +just arrived from Edengarden.</p> + +<p class='c009'>They both entered the room looking so innocently and +frankly happy that the old man could not but receive them +very cordially.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, Ronald, I never knew you to do an errand so +quickly in all the days of my life before. I commend you, +my lad,” he said in good-humored raillery of the young +lover.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Then, holding out his hand to Em., he smiled on her, +saying:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Come hither, my child, and kiss me. Now, am I not a +good-natured old muff to let that young coxcomb have you, +when I am so fond of you myself?” he continued, as he put +<span class='pageno' id='Page_290'>290</span>his arm around her waist and drew her to his side in a +fatherly embrace. “Say, am I not very, <i>very</i> good to the +young puppy?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You are ‘very, very good’ to <i>me</i>, sir,” said Em., raising +his withered hand to her lips.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“To <i>him</i>, miss, to <i>him</i>. As for you, I do not know but +that I am doing you a mischief in consenting to this marriage. +But, there, I have consented and shall not retract. +I suppose that fellow has told you so, and also everything +else that has happened here to-day?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, yes, sir, and I am so glad and thankful that your +son has returned. Oh! if I could only <i>tell</i> you how glad +and thankful,” earnestly exclaimed Em. as the tears rushed +to her eyes.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“<i>That</i> tells <i>me</i>! And now I have something else to tell +you. This dear, only son of mine is also the beloved husband +of your benefactress, Em.—of your lovely Lady of +Edengarden, Ronald!” exclaimed the commodore.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Both the young people opened their eyes in astonishment, +and would have opened their lips in inquiry had not the +commodore prevented them by nervously exclaiming:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No questions! No comments! You will find out everything +in time. Ring the bell, Ronald.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>The young man silently obeyed.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The hall footman appeared.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Send the girl Liza here,” said the old man.</p> + +<p class='c009'>In a few moments the girl appeared.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You waited on Miss Palmer when she was here before, +did you not?” inquired her master.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Then show this young lady to the best spare room in the +house, and make her comfortable,” said the commodore.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. kissed the old man’s hand and followed the girl.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now, my lad, do you also go about your business! I +expect to have a row with your mother about consenting to +this marriage; but I guess I know how to persuade <i>her</i>. +And now I must smoke my pipe in peace.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And doze, if you can, uncle! Indeed, I hope you will,” +said Ronald as he turned to leave the room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“There’s but little time left for <i>that</i> before dinner,” muttered +the commodore as he settled for a nap.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_291'>291</span>As Em. went upstairs, attended by Liza, she asked the +girl:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Don’t you think I might have the room in the attic that +I had before?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Surely, Miss Em., if you refers dat one; but dere’s heap +betters.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I prefer that one.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now, ain’t dat so funny!” exclaimed the girl.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“What funny? My preferring the attic chamber to a +finer one?” inquired the guest.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, Miss Em., not dat; but I’ll jes’ tell you. It <i>was</i> +funny. Why, Miss Em., when you went away so suddint +I did feel so lonesome ’dout you dat I mos’ cried my eyes +out. And den I cleaned up your room, and cleaned out de +fireplace, and piled shavin’s and pine cones and pine sticks +and hickory logs inter it, ready to light a fire at a minute’s +warning, ’caze I ax myself maybe if I keeps de room ready +for her it will work on de sperrits in some ’sterious way so +she may come back! And, sure ’nough, here you is, and +your room all ready for you. It <i>is</i> funny. Come in, Miss +Em.,” concluded Liza, for they had now reached the attic +landing and the chamber door.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Liza entered first, took a match from the mantelpiece and +lighted the combustibles under the hickory sticks across the +andirons, and soon had a bright, blazing fire.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Then she took Em.’s traveling-bag from her hands and +began to unbutton her waterproof, which was fastened from +her neck to her feet.</p> + +<p class='c009'>When this was done Em. threw off her cloak and unpinned +a looped skirt and shook it down, and appeared in a +simple but elegant blue silk dress, trimmed on the bosom +and sleeves with pure Valenciennes lace.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Why, Miss <span class='sc'>Em.</span>!” cried the little maid in glad surprise. +“If that ain’t jes’ like Cinderella!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Lieutenant Bruce told me there was to be company at +dinner, and so I put on the best dress I owned—a present +from my benefactress—to grace it,” she explained as she +went to the glass to rearrange her golden auburn hair.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Let me run to the deservatory for some white roses, +Miss Em., one for your head an’ one for your breas’. I +<span class='pageno' id='Page_292'>292</span>won’t be gone long!” exclaimed Liza, dashing out of the +room without waiting for an answer.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She soon returned, bringing a bunch of fresh, half-open +white roses, which Em., after thanking the girl warmly, +arranged in her hair and on her bosom.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She had just put these finishing touches to her toilet +when the dinner-bell rang.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“That’s the last bell, Miss Em. The first one rang half +an hour ago, ’fore you ’rived, I reckon,” said Liza.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am quite ready,” said the young lady as she passed +out of the room and went downstairs.</p> + +<p class='c009'>On entering the drawing-room she found the family assembled +there. A group near the upper end fixed her attention.</p> + +<p class='c009'>A tall, dark, handsome man, whom she instantly recognized +by his portrait to be Leonidas Bruce, stood with the +Lady of Edengarden leaning on his arm. Near them stood +Commodore Bruce and his sister. Not far off were all the +other members of the family circle.</p> + +<p class='c009'>As Em. entered her benefactress dropped the arm of the +gentleman on whom she had been leaning and advanced to +meet her youthful protégée.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Come, my love, you have heard how happy we are all +rendered by Mr. Bruce’s return. I wish to present you to +him,” said the lady as she drew the girl’s arm within her +own and led her straight up to the gentleman.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“This is my dear young friend, Emolyn Palmer, Mr. +Bruce, and I know you will love her for her own sake as +well as for mine.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“She is enough like you to be your sister. I am very glad +to see her,” replied Lonny as he offered his hand to the +timid child before him.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I hope you will let me say how rejoiced I am at your +return and at your happiness,” said Em. shyly.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Thank you, my dear girl. I hope you will be as happy +with us both as you have been with your friend here.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, indeed I <i>know</i> I shall be even much happier,” replied +the girl; and if she could have spoken her whole +thoughts she would have added: “For—I do not understand +it, but—I love you just as much as I do love her.”</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_293'>293</span>Em.’s lips did not utter this, but her radiant face said a +great deal more.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Then she received and returned the greetings of the +other ladies.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, we are waiting for Dr. Willet and Mrs. Warde,” +said the commodore.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Dr. Willet has not yet returned from the Wilderness, +and Mrs. Warde is too much indisposed to join us. We need +not wait for either,” said Mrs. Catherine Bruce.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Very well, then, we won’t! Leonidas, bring Emolyn in +to dinner. Ronald, take Miss Palmer. Catherine, allow +me,” said the commodore as he gave his arm to his sister-in-law +and led the way to the dining-room, where the housekeeper +had laid a sumptuous feast in honor of the newly-arrived.</p> + +<p class='c009'>That was a memorable dinner. Every one enjoyed it, and +no one more than the reunited couple and the young lovers.</p> + +<p class='c009'>When the cloth was removed a few toasts were drunk—to +the returned traveler, to the reunited husband and wife, +and finally to the commodore.</p> + +<p class='c009'>When the ladies rose to leave the table the gentlemen +did not, on this occasion, linger over their wine, but followed +them at once to the drawing-room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>It was nine o’clock, and they were at the height of their +enjoyment of this family reunion when the clatter of a +horse’s hoofs was heard rapidly galloping up the rocky road +leading to the gate of the yard.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Before any one could hazard a conjecture on the subject +the hall door was opened and the voice of Dr. Willet heard +in excited tones demanding:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Where is your master?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>The footman was heard to reply:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“In the drawing-room, sir.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>On this Commodore Bruce started up, exclaiming:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“What now?” and he left the room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>He met the doctor full tilt at the door.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Commodore Bruce, there is not a moment to be lost! +I ordered the carriage as I came through the stable yard!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But what is the matter?” demanded the commodore of +the excited speaker.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I have a most startling and important revelation from +<span class='pageno' id='Page_294'>294</span>the dying woman, Ann Whitlock, who has partly recovered +her speech. It is a revelation that must be received under +oath in presence of a magistrate. It is in your capacity as a +justice of the peace that I want you at the bedside of this +dying woman.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I will be ready in five minutes,” replied the commodore +with his old martial promptitude.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And not only yourself, but your son, Leonidas Bruce, +his wife, Emolyn, and the young girl whom we have known +only as Em. Palmer.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“What! Do you mean to say that they must go, too?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“But what have <i>they</i> to do with this?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Everything! Everything connected with their honor, +prosperity and happiness.”</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XXXVI<br> <span class='c006'>A STARTLING STORY</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c007'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in18'>If hearty sorrow</div> + <div class='line'>Be a sufficient ransom for offence,</div> + <div class='line'>I tender it here; I do as truly suffer</div> + <div class='line'>As e’er I did commit.</div> + <div class='line in30'><span class='sc'>Shakespeare.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c008'>Great was the wonder in the drawing-room when Dr. +Willet entered, and after a sweeping bow that took in the +whole circle, went straight up to Leonidas Bruce and said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am really sorry to break up this ‘goodlie companie,’ +but ‘necessity has no law,’ and this particular case admits +of no compromise. Mr. Bruce, I am here to ask you, your +wife, and this young lady, Miss Emolyn, to come with me to +the deathbed of my patient.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Who is it?” inquired the astonished man.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Mrs. Ann Whitlock, the old woman whom I have been +attending for the last few weeks at the Wilderness Manor-house; +the same one to whom I was so suddenly called again +this afternoon.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, yes. Well, poor soul, if she is dying, I am sure I’m +very sorry for her; but I can’t help it. I don’t know her +<span class='pageno' id='Page_295'>295</span>the least in the world. Why, I have but just got home, you +see; and I don’t know——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, of course you don’t know anything at all about +it; but your wife and this young lady both know the old +woman who sends for them to her deathbed, and as they will +not disregard her dying request, perhaps you will elect to +go with them. Your presence is desirable, but not absolutely +necessary.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, of course I will go. Since these ladies were acquainted +with the poor old creature I can partly understand +her desire to see them,” said Leonidas Bruce good-naturedly.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Then, as no time is to be lost, let me entreat the ladies +to get ready for their ride immediately. The carriage is +ordered,” said the doctor.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Full of conjecture as to the cause of the summons, Mrs. +Bruce arose, drew Emolyn’s arm within her own, and left +the drawing-room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>As the two women separated in the hall, the one to go +to the parlor chamber, the other to go to the attic, Mrs. +Bruce noticed that Em.’s eyes were full of tears.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“What! weeping, my love?” she exclaimed.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ah! she was very good to me. Always very good to +me,” sighed the girl.</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c010'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“‘But the angels weep when a babe is born,</div> + <div class='line'>And sing when an old man dies.’</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>You should not weep for the death of the aged, my dear. +What can she want with us, Em.? Ah! I understand how +she may want you; but <i>me</i>? Long ago she nursed my +uncle, it is true, yet I scarcely ever knew her.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I think, dear lady, that, as she knows you have me, she +only wishes to see us both together, and perhaps commend +me to your kindness. She <i>need</i> not do that, of course, but +she was always <i>very</i> good to me.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“That is it!” exclaimed the lady, and then she hurried off +to her room, while Em. ran up to the attic.</p> + +<p class='c009'>In the meantime the ladies left in the drawing-room, +Mrs. Catherine Bruce, and Miss Belinda Warde, came +around to Dr. Willet for an explanation of this sudden +night summons.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_296'>296</span>The good physician parried their questions as politely as +he could, and was still evading them when the door opened +and Commodore Bruce came in, all booted and spurred for +riding, and exclaimed:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, doctor, I am ready, you see! As you have ridden +so much to-day I shall give you my seat in the carriage, old +friend, and take your horse. No, now! Not one word of +objection! I will have it so. Besides, I have ordered a +second horse for Leonidas, so that I and my son may trot +side by side, as we used to do when I was younger and he +was smaller,” added the commodore as he drew on his +gloves.</p> + +<p class='c009'>As he spoke Leonidas Bruce, equipped for riding, accompanied +by his cousin, Ronald, re-entered the room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The two ladies soon followed—Mrs. Leonidas Bruce in +the dress she had worn on her short journey from Edengarden +to The Breezes, and Em. in her boat cloak and hood.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, we are all ready, I believe?” inquired the doctor.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The other members of the party assented, and after bidding +good-evening to the three ladies and the one gentleman +left behind, they went out the front door to the place +where the carriage and the saddle horses were awaiting +them.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Dr. Willet handed the two ladies into the carriage, then +followed and took his seat at their side.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Leonidas Bruce assisted his father to mount his horse, +then leaped into his own saddle and rode after the carriage, +which had already started.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The commodore was soon by his son’s side.</p> + +<p class='c009'>And so they wound down the road leading down the +mountainside and through the forest to the back road, and +thence to the Wilderness Manor-house.</p> + +<p class='c009'>There was no moon, but the sky was perfectly clear, and +the innumerable stars shone with a sparkling brilliancy +that compensated for her absence.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The three passengers in the carriage spoke but little. Dr. +Willet went to sleep. It was very rude of him to do so, but +he was aged and tired. Mrs. Leonidas Bruce was absorbed +in reverie. Em. was silently weeping and stealthily wiping +away her tears. Em. had scarcely realized how much she +loved the uncouth old creature who had been her nurse and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_297'>297</span>companion all her young life and until within a few weeks. +Yet these were tears of tender compassion rather than of +bitter sorrow; tears, too, which Em.’s cheerful faith taught +her were more natural than rational, since “death is but an +orderly step in life,” and to die out of this sphere is to be +born in a higher one.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The two men enjoyed <i>their</i> ride. Neither of them took +any more than a kindly interest in the dying woman they +were going to see, so they talked of everything else than of +her—of Lonny’s shipwreck, and rescue, and capture; of +his experiences in the long years of his captivity; of his +flight and escape, and his voyage home on the French ship, +etc., etc., etc.</p> + +<p class='c009'>All these adventures Lonny had already related. But +now, at his father’s request, he went over them again, as +he was destined many times to repeat them at intervals for +his father, his father’s friends and—their friends, for many +years to come.</p> + +<p class='c009'>It was ten o’clock when they drew near a pile of dark +buildings in the valley below them, which they recognized +as the Wilderness Manor.</p> + +<p class='c009'>In a few minutes they were at the gates opening into +the back courtyard under the shadow of the mountain, this +being the nearer approach to the house from the direction +of The Breezes.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Here John Palmer and his boys waited to receive them.</p> + +<p class='c009'>John led the party up to the house, while the boys took +away the horses to the rear stables.</p> + +<p class='c009'>At the door of the house Susan Palmer received her late +visitors.</p> + +<p class='c009'>She had been prepared by Dr. Willet, who had informed +her of the unexpected return of the long missing Leonidas +Bruce, so she showed no surprise at his appearance, and +under the serious circumstances gave him only the general +welcome extended to the whole party.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Walk in here, ladies and gentlemen,” she said, opening +the door of a well-warmed and lighted parlor, where a fine +fire of hickory logs blazed in the broad fireplace, and two +tall “mold” candles, in taller brass candlesticks, stood on +the high mantel-shelf.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Please sit down and make yourselves comfortable, while +<span class='pageno' id='Page_298'>298</span>I take Em. up to see the poor soul, for so she desired me +to do first of all,” added Mrs. Palmer as she placed chairs +near the fire for her guests.</p> + +<p class='c009'>When they were seated she beckoned Em., who arose to +follow her, then bowed to her guests, and left the room.</p> + +<p class='c009'>As soon as they reached the hall outside Susan Palmer +astonished Em. by suddenly throwing her arms around the +girl’s neck, bursting into tears, and exclaiming:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh! my child, you’ll love us all the same! You’ll love +us all the same! You’ll love us all the same!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Dear mother, what is the matter?” inquired the girl +in alarm.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh! Em., say you will! Say you will!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Will <i>what</i>? I’ll do <i>all</i> you wish, dear mother, only tell +me <i>what</i>!” exclaimed the frightened girl.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Love us just as much! Just as much, Em.! Oh, just +as much!” sobbed the woman.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“My own dear mother,” murmured Em., caressing and +soothing the excited creature, although she herself was +frightened half out of her senses at the agitation she could +not comprehend—“my own dear mother, I love you and +shall always love you. Compose yourself. Do not doubt +me. Is it because Commodore Bruce has consented that +his nephew shall marry me? Have you already heard that, +and do you think it could make any difference in my love +for you? It could not, dear mother, not one bit!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh! no, Em., no! It isn’t <i>that</i>. I’m not such a fool +as to take on so about <i>that</i>. Of course I knew you would +marry some time. Besides, I hadn’t even heard of it. Oh! +no, Em., it is not that! It is worse than that. Heaven forgive +me, it is better than that. No, it is <i>worse</i>. Oh, Em.! +Em.! Em.!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>And Susan Palmer fell to weeping.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“My own dear, dear mother, I never knew you to be +so nervous in my life before. Surely you are not well. +Oh, what <i>is</i> the matter?” exclaimed the girl, her alarm +rising to terror.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You’ll hear soon enough, Em.! You’ll hear soon +enough! But oh, do promise me you’ll love us all the same, +all the same, whatever you hear!” said Susan Palmer, with +<span class='pageno' id='Page_299'>299</span>a great sobbing sigh as she released the girl and wiped her +own eyes.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Won’t you tell me what it is, mother, dear?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, Em. It ain’t for me to tell you. But oh! you +will still call me ‘mother,’ and poor, dear, good, good John, +who is so fond of you, ‘father’—won’t you, Em.?” she +pleaded.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. could only look at the distressed woman in silent +dismay—thinking of approaching illness, fever, delirium.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You know you will call the gentleman and lady papa +and mamma because children in high life call their parents +that. But you will call me and poor old John plain mother +and father as you always did—won’t you, Em.?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“She is distressing herself about my possible marriage +and my future mother and father-in-law,” thought Em.; +and then she answered earnestly:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“<i>Always</i>, dear mother. Always, believe me! I will +never call any one else father or mother but you and +father!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“That’s my loving heart! That’s my sweet, loving +heart! You can call them ‘papa’ and ‘mamma,’ you know, +and they’ll like that just as well, and even better, for that +is fashionable and elegant, and polite, and so on. But oh, +Em!”—with another burst of emotion—“it is just as if you +were dead to us! Just as if you were dead! I wish—oh, +I do wish that we had taught you to call us ‘daddy’ and +‘mammy,’ for then I should know you would never call any +fine lady or gentleman <i>that</i>. Now, come upstairs, child, +for I have kept you down here too long already. But oh, +Em.! It is just like closing down the coffin-lid over your +face to let you go now! We part now, we will never meet +again in the same way, Em.,” she exclaimed, as she began +slowly to climb the stairs, followed closely by the troubled +and bewildered girl.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Not a word more was spoken between them until they +reached the attic landing, when Mrs. Palmer opened the +door of the sick-room and said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Go in there, Em.! Go in alone! Oh! my Lord! It is +like lowering you into the grave! We will meet again! +But not the same! Oh, nevermore the same.” She sighed +<span class='pageno' id='Page_300'>300</span>as she sent Em. alone into the room and gently closed the +door after her.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The sick chamber, as I mentioned once before, was a +large upper room. It was now in obscurity, the smoldering +hardwood fire in the fireplace, and the rustic lamp on +the mantel-shelf giving but little light.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. went up to the old-fashioned four-poster at the +upper end of the room, where Dr. Willet had already taken +his place, and old Monica was waiting. The latter gave +way as Em. approached the bed.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The dying woman was lying very still, on her back, with +her wasted face level on the pillow, and her skeleton hands +folded on her breast.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Speak to her,” said Dr. Willet.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Aunty Whitlock,” said Em., gently, bending over her.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The woman sighed, moaned, and opened her eyes.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Aunty Whitlock, how do you do?” inquired Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The poor creature made several ineffectual efforts to +articulate, and finally said, in an imperfect way:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I—am—getting—well—fast.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Is she delirious?” inquired Em., in a whisper and with +a startled look at the doctor.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, no, it is her way of speaking. She means that +she is going—dying. Hush! She is trying to speak to +you again. Bend low—bend your ear to her lips.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>The girl obeyed.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Em.,” muttered the woman, so imperfectly that the +listener could scarcely recognize her own name. “Em., my +child.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, Aunty Whitlock. I am listening—I hear.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Have I been—good to you—my dear?” she asked, in +tones so faint and muffled that Em. scarcely gathered their +meaning, but rather divined it, as she answered:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Very, very good to me always, dear Aunty Whitlock.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I—<i>did</i>—save—your life.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, I know you did, dear aunty! Mother has often +told me you did.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>A cloud of trouble passed over the face of the dying +woman, and her lips writhed in their efforts to utter the +next words, which Em. bent her ear and strained her sense +to hear.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_301'>301</span>“Yes—but not in that way—not as she thinks—did I +save your life.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>There was silence and quick breathing for a few minutes, +and then, with an effort, she resumed:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“When—you know all—forgive—because—I <i>did</i> save +your life.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. stooped and kissed the old woman, and laid her +fresh, living cheek against the faded and dying one.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now, doctor!” panted the woman.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Dr. Willet approached and bent over her.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Let them come—quick—I’m passing.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>The doctor administered a restorative, and then left the +room to bring the Bruces to the bedside of the fast sinking +woman.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. remained standing by her, rubbing her cold hands.</p> + +<p class='c009'>In a few moments the doctor re-entered the room, bearing +two lighted candles in his hand, and followed by Commodore +Bruce, Leonidas and Emolyn and John and Susan +Palmer.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The doctor drew a little stand to the bedside and placed +the two candles upon it, and laid a folded paper beside +them. Then he beckoned Emolyn Bruce to appear.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The lady put off her bonnet and shawl and went up to +the bedside, closely followed by her husband.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The lady bent over the dying woman, saying:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am very sorry to see you in this way, Mrs. Whitlock. +Do you know me?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“You are Emolyn Wyndeworth—I saved your child’s +life—I was always good to her—she will tell you so herself.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“What does she mean?” inquired Leonidas, who had +caught only one or two words of this faintly muttered +speech.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Emolyn shook her head in doubt, and Dr. Willet +said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Hush! You will know soon. Let me say a few words. +When I came to this woman this afternoon she made a +startling confession to me in the presence of John and +Susan Palmer. I took the statement down from her dying +lips, lest if I had delayed to do so it might have been too +late. I took her mark and the signatures of the two Palmers +<span class='pageno' id='Page_302'>302</span>as witnesses. I wish to have her acknowledge this +confession to be the truth, under oath. Commodore Bruce, +will you administer the oath?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>The old commodore, much wondering what he should +hear next, said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Will you read it to her first?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, there will not be time. I will read it afterwards.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Lift her up, then, somebody.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>John Palmer, being the strongest “body” present, went +to the head of the bed, lifted the dying woman to a sitting +posture, and supported her in his firm arms, with her back +resting against his chest.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“This is her written statement,” said Dr. Willet, placing +the folded paper in the hands of the commodore.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Make—haste,” panted the woman, with difficulty.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The doctor poured out and administered a stimulant, +which partially revived her.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Do you know what you are about to do?” inquired the +commodore.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes—swear to—the truth of—my statement,” gasped +the woman.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Commodore Bruce, in his capacity of magistrate, then +administered the oath and exhibited the written statement +with its signatures, which she recognized and acknowledged +under oath.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“There! That will do! This necessary disturbance has +shaken the last sands of her life. Leave her now to repose, +and follow me down to the drawing-room, where I will read +to you all this strange confession,” said the doctor.</p> + +<p class='c009'>John Palmer left his perch on the head of the bed and +gently lowered the head of the dying woman to the pillow.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Susan tenderly adjusted the covering around her, and +beckoned old Monica to come and resume her watch by +the bed.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Dr. Willet took up the two lighted candles and led +the way from the room, leaving the place in the twilight +shadow and stillness best fitted for the sufferer.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The whole party repaired to the drawing-room, and +seated themselves around the large circular center-table +<span class='pageno' id='Page_303'>303</span>upon which Dr. Willet had placed the candles and the +document.</p> + +<p class='c009'>When the little bustle, incident upon this movement, +subsided, the doctor took up the paper and began to read +the statement aloud to his almost breathless audience.</p> + +<p class='c009'>And then and there the astonished family of Commodore +Bruce learned a secret they had never even suspected +before, though doubtless my intelligent readers have divined +it long ago.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The attested statement of the dying woman showed how +she, Ann Whitlock, sick-nurse, while in the employment of +Mrs. Malvina Warde, at Green Point, being tempted of the +devil, did appropriate to herself certain valuable jewels +belonging to the family, and being caught in the act by +Mrs. Warde, did thenceforward fall, body and soul, into +the power of that lady, who, by threats of prosecution and +imprisonment did compel her, Ann Whitlock, to commit +great sins. How, to effect her purpose, Mrs. Warde procured +for Ann Whitlock, the position of sick-nurse in the +Women’s Hospital in the city. How, on the thirtieth of +April, 18—, she, Ann Whitlock, being driven of the devil in +the shape of Malvina, procured certain drugs to be administered +to Emolyn Wyndeworth, then living at Green Point, +which drugs hastened the illness of that lady. How, on +the morning of the first of May, while it was yet dark, and +the household all in bed, she, being secretly admitted by +Mrs. Warde to the sick chamber of Emolyn Wyndeworth, +had, with the assistance of Malvina Warde, stolen away the +new-born, healthy infant daughter of Emolyn Wyndeworth, +and secretly conveyed it to the Women’s Hospital, and +adroitly changed it for the still-born child of Susan Palmer, +a patient in the ward then under her care. How, leaving +the living infant by the sleeping woman, she had brought +back the dead one and laid it on the bed with Emolyn +Wyndeworth. How ever since that fatal night she had so +suffered with remorse that nothing but the one thought +that Mrs. Warde would certainly have destroyed the living +child, if she herself had not substituted the dead one for it, +could bring her any comfort; but that she compensated the +child for the loss of its real mother by giving her to the +best woman she knew in the world, and by being as good to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_304'>304</span>her as she possibly could be. Finally, that she had meant +to tell the truth on her deathbed, when she should be out +of the power of her demoniac mistress.</p> + +<p class='c009'>That was all. Fortunately not a word had been said +about the trial.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XXXVII.<br> <span class='c006'>CONCLUSION.</span></h2> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c007'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>Thou art our daughter, never loved as now,</div> + <div class='line'>Thou gentlest maid, thou child of purity.</div> + <div class='line in36'><span class='sc'>Maturin.</span></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c008'>Fortunately, I say, not a word had been said of the +trial which had blighted so many years of Emolyn Wyndeworth’s +life.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The reading of Ann Whitlock’s confession was followed +by a deep silence of some moments, during which nothing +was heard but the low sound of Susan Palmer’s weeping.</p> + +<p class='c009'>At length Em. arose softly from her seat beside old Commodore +Bruce, and went over and seated herself beside +Susan, put her arms around the poor woman’s neck, kissed +her, and murmured:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“So <i>that</i> was what you meant, dear mother! How +strange it all is! But <i>do</i> not weep so! I <i>will</i> love you all +the same, dear, dear mother. Are seventeen years of tenderest +motherhood to be blotted out by one hour’s revelation? +Oh, no, no, no, my own dear mother, no! You and +I have loved and worked and suffered too long and too +closely together for that——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“And John, too!” sobbed Susan. “Oh, <i>poor</i> John! +You were his favorite child, Em. He <i>was</i> so fond of you!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, and dear father, too! He <i>is</i> so fond of me, mother. +Ah! don’t weep so! Indeed, I love you—<i>more</i> than ever!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, Em., I know it is so selfish and <i>so</i> mean in me to +cry so hard about anything that brings so much good to +you, but I can’t help—help—help it!” sobbed Susan.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No, it is not selfish, dear mother. You haven’t a selfish +<span class='pageno' id='Page_305'>305</span>vein in your body. It is natural. Didn’t you cry hard +when you parted with your children who went to heaven, +though you knew they were so much better off? And don’t +everybody do so?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Ye—yes, and this is almost the same, Em. Almost as +hard for me!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Only I wish you wouldn’t, dear mother, for I shall be +<i>just</i> the same to you as I was before, and come and help +you to darn the stockings, or wash the dishes, <i>just</i> as I did +before. And if you don’t scold me just as much as you +do the other children and—and father,” added Em., with +a peculiar smile, “I shall think you don’t love me half as +much as you do them.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“We always loved the child that has gone to heaven the +best, Em., and you will be to me like that. You are a good +girl, Em., it’s me that’s mean and selfish to cry about your +good fortune, and begrudge you to that poor lady who has +suffered so much in this world, and who hasn’t got no other +child, but only you, while I have so many girls and boys; +and another one a-coming, as sure as you live, Em.—another +one a-coming. But don’t you say a word about that—it +is awful! Now, there, child, go speak to your mamma. +She is very patient to wait for you so long. I’ll go and +comfort John by telling him what you say. Oh, <i>poor</i> +John!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>And Susan Palmer arose and went out of the room to +look for John, who had left the scene immediately at the +end of the reading, to conceal all outward signs of his own +inner trouble.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Meanwhile, the very first movement of Em. to join her +foster-mother having broken the spell of silence that had +followed the reading of the confession, the other members +of the family gathering had fallen to whispering, exclaiming, +or questioning Dr. Willet.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em.’s first impulse to join them was checked by a feeling +of diffidence, and she remained for some moments seated +where Susan Palmer had left her, waiting the pleasure of +her elders.</p> + +<p class='c009'>At length she glanced toward her parents.</p> + +<p class='c009'>They were sitting talking earnestly together in a low +voice, seemingly quite absorbed in each other, though they +<span class='pageno' id='Page_306'>306</span>had frequently looked across at their daughter without her +consciousness of their regards.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Commodore Bruce and Dr. Willet sat together at some +little distance from the other two, and somewhat nearer to +Em., very gravely conversing, their gray heads bent closely +together, the doctor pointing his arguments, whatever they +were, with his right forefinger on his left palm; the commodore +listening solemnly, nodding from time to time, and +taking countless pinches of snuff.</p> + +<p class='c009'>A few words of their discourse necessarily reached Em.’s +ears.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“He <i>must</i> hear it some time or other,” said Dr. Willet.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“True, true; most true”—from the commodore, with a +nod, a sigh, and a huge pinch of snuff.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“He will bear it better now, perhaps, than at any other +time.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Humph, perhaps, you know best.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“If you authorize me, I will myself take the disagreeable +task off your hands and be his informant.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, yes, doctor, do! I could never tell him myself! +Never!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>While the two old men were still conversing, Em. turned +her eyes from them and fixed them upon her parents.</p> + +<p class='c009'>At the same instant Emolyn Bruce looked up and met +her daughter’s gaze.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The lady smiled and opened her arms.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. arose and crossed the room and gave herself to that +fond embrace.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now we know the reason why we loved each other so, +my darling, don’t we?” murmured the lady, as she folded +her daughter to her bosom.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, dear mamma, yes, for my heart was drawn to you +from the very first moment I saw you. I longed for you to +love me then,” answered Em., returning love for love and +kiss for kiss.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Your papa, my dear,” whispered Emolyn, in a low +tone.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Em. raised her head from the lady’s bosom to see bending +over them both, the dark, handsome man whose very +portrait she had worshiped long before she had ever seen +him.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_307'>307</span>“Have you no place left in your heart for me, little +daughter?” inquired the stranger, as he drew the girl to his +bosom and pressed his lips to hers.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I loved you long before I ever saw you, dear papa,” +whispered Em., half shyly, half fondly.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“How is that, my little girl? You loved me before you +ever saw me?” inquired the pleased young papa.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes—and even before I ever <i>heard</i> of you,” said Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Explain,” said the object of this strange affection, with +a smile and a caress.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, I found your portrait in the attic at The Breezes, +and I set it up in my room as an object of worship, having +been struck with it before I knew to whom it belonged.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Who will say now that there is no instinct in natural +affection?” demanded Leonidas.</p> + +<p class='c009'>That question was unanswerable; but after a little while +Em. turned to her mamma and asked another.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“So it was for your lost child you always provided a +yearly outfit of dainty clothing?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, love; it was a fond, foolish fancy of mine; but not +without benefit to others, since at the end of every year I +gave away the raiment to those who needed it.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>At this moment Dr. Willet came up to the group, and +laying his hand on the shoulder of the last speaker, said +gravely:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“The commodore, Mr. Bruce, has authorized me to make +a communication to you, which should no longer be withheld. +Will you come with me into another room?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>The gentleman so addressed at once arose and followed +the doctor, who took him into the disused dining-room of +the old house, closed and locked the door, and then and +there told him the terrible story of the false accusation and +the trial to which his young wife had been subjected in his +absence.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Leonidas was frightfully agitated while listening. He +strode up and down the floor, most bitterly reproaching +himself, groaning, weeping, as only brave men can weep, +and bursting into exclamations of pity, rage, remorse.</p> + +<p class='c009'>It took all Dr. Willet’s skill and experience to reduce +<span class='pageno' id='Page_308'>308</span>the fearfully excited man to anything like calmness and +rationality.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“The dying woman was but a weak tool in this diabolical +work! She has done what she could to atone for her share +in it, and now she is beyond the reach of punishment. But +Malvina Warde! that fiend in human shape! <i>She</i> shall be +prosecuted to the utmost extent of the law! I will spend +every dollar I am worth to engage the best counsel to be +had, to send her to the State prison.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Leonidas, the wretched woman is a family connection! +You could not punish <i>her</i> without——” began the doctor; +but Bruce interrupted him in a voice of thunder:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Don’t tell me about family credit, Dr. Willet! If she +were my sister I should send her to the State Prison for +such a cause!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>The doctor ceased to expostulate, thinking it best to let +the infuriated man rage himself to exhaustion.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Presently, however, Leonidas Bruce came up to Dr. Willet +and said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Doctor, if it had not been for you, Emolyn, <i>poor</i> +Emolyn, could never have lived through that terrible ordeal. +You, with your constant charity, your wisdom, and your +medical skill, bore her up, and sustained her in mind and +body, or she must have sunk and perished in that fiery furnace +of affliction. Doctor! so long as I may live in this +world—ay! and in the next—I shall never forget your invaluable +services, never cease to remember them with glowing +gratitude. I should have expressed this to you before, +for it is as true as truth; but the thought of that fiendish +woman’s work put everything else out of my head. But, +doctor, believe me——”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Say no more, my dear friend. I have told you this +tragic story to forestall any false or garbled account you +might possibly receive of it. Now, my dear Leonidas, I +advise you never to speak of it again, but to forget it as +fast as you can.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>(“After I have sent that fiend in female form to the State +Prison,” said Lonny to himself.)</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Now then, calm yourself and clear your brow, and let +us go back to the ladies, lest they should think we are engaged +here in some conspiracy.”</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_309'>309</span>And they returned together to the parlor.</p> + +<p class='c009'>By this time it was midnight, and the moon was up.</p> + +<p class='c009'>The old commodore, resisting all John Palmer’s hospitable +entreaties to spend the night at the Manor House, +and declaring that he never slept out of his own bed if he +could help it, ordered the carriage and the saddle horses to +be brought to the door that he and his party might return to +The Breezes.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Mamma, dearest,” whispered Em., coming to the side of +her beautiful lady mother—“mamma, dearest, leave me +here for a few days with my <i>poor mother</i>, till she gets used +to thinking of this change. Her heart is almost broken, +mamma. You will leave me here a little while?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, tender soul, I will leave you here to comfort your +‘poor mother.’ My own heart bleeds for that ‘poor mother.’ +I will leave you with her for the present. It will not be +for long, however; Susan’s own sense of right will cause her +to bring you to me very soon.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>John and Susan Palmer were touched even to tears +when they learned that Em. was to be left with them for +the present.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Just when he has returned and they have found her, +and the lady so fond of her even before she knew who +the child was!” whimpered Susan, drying her eyes on her +apron.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“‘Sich is life,’” said John, in lack of anything else to +say, and never had he quoted his favorite scrap of philosophy +more <i>out</i> of place.</p> + +<p class='c009'>When the commodore and his party were entering the +carriage and mounting the horses, Susan Palmer and Em. +stood with the lantern to light them.</p> + +<p class='c009'>When they had gone, Susan still lingered as if spellbound +to the spot.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“What is the matter, mother dear?” inquired the girl.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I was thinking, Em., that, after all, my poor baby did +die.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Oh, dear mother, don’t use that word that you have so +often told me isn’t true. The little baby didn’t die. It +went to heaven with your own children, and instead of the +baby on earth, you have another angel in heaven—an angel +daughter as much fairer and brighter than she could have +<span class='pageno' id='Page_310'>310</span>been on earth, as—look up, dear mother!—as that beautiful, +brilliant star you see overhead, is fairer and brighter +than this dull lantern we hold.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>When they re-entered the house, Em. said:</p> + +<p class='c009'>“I am going upstairs to send old Aunt Monica to bed, +and to take her place by poor Aunty Whitlock. I can never +believe she was wicked at heart.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Meanwhile, Commodore Bruce and his party pursued +their moonlight journey home, where they arrived about +two o’clock in the morning.</p> + +<p class='c009'>To their surprise they found the family all up and the +house lighted above and below.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“They must have sat up for us. It was foolish for them +all to sit up for us,” said the old commodore, as he led the +way into the house.</p> + +<p class='c009'>They were met in the drawing-room by Mrs. Templeton.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Did you meet the messenger?” inquired that lady.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“No; what messenger?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Aleck was sent to the Wilderness to tell you.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“What?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Malvina Warde is dead.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“DEAD!” echoed the whole party in consternation.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“When?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“How did it happen?”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It seems that she did not sleep well, and about an hour +ago, hearing the clock strike one, and hearing the family +still stirring below, she woke up her daughter, who was +sleeping beside her, and asked what kept the family up so +late. Belinda replied that they were waiting for the commodore +and his party, who had gone to the Wilderness +Manor-house to see the dying woman, Ann Whitlock. +Whereupon Mrs. Warde got out of bed and went across the +room, it was thought to procure a glass of water. In coming +back to the bed she fell heavily to the floor. Belinda +sprang out of bed and ran to her mother’s help, and raised +her head from the floor. But she was quite dead.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“She had organic disease of the heart. It might have +been expected,” said Dr. Willet curtly.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Vengeance is mine, and I will repay, saith the Lord,” +reverently murmured Leonidas Bruce, raising his hat.</p> + +<p class='c009'><span class='pageno' id='Page_311'>311</span>Whether Malvina Warde died of heart disease or of prussic +acid self-administered, can never now be known. Her +remains lie in the family burial ground in the Wilderness +Manor, beside those of her tool and victim, Ann Whitlock, +who penitently and peacefully expired the same night, with +her hand clasped in that of her beloved foster-child, Em.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Belinda Warde was mercifully spared the knowledge of +her mother’s crime. Immediately after the funeral she +accepted the invitation of Mrs. Delaney Fanning, and went +to make her home with that lady at beautiful “Belle Plains,” +until her marriage the next year to a middle-aged colonel +of marines.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Susan Palmer fully justified Emolyn’s faith in her sense +of right. After keeping Em. for a few days, she voluntarily +brought the girl to The Breezes, and willingly and +cheerfully surrendered her to the charge of her rightful +parents.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“We bring up our darters in care and toil, and if we +don’t lose ’em by death, we’re most sure to lose ’em by marriage. +So what dif’ence do it make anyway, Susan, my +dear, when ‘sich is life?’” said John when his wife came +back without his favorite child.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Em. loves us and we love her, therefore we can never +really lose her in this world nor the next,” answered +Susan.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Among all who rejoiced in the good fortune of our little +girl, none did so more sincerely than the poor colored people +of the Wilderness Manor, whose affections her goodness +had won.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Miss Em. deserves it all,” said old ’Sias, the gatekeeper—“Miss +Em. deserves all that, and more too. For +I never knowed sich a little angel as she is in all the days +of my yethly pilgrimage, and that mus’ be by dis time ’bout +two hundred years, chillun! Two hundred years, more or +less—more or <i>less</i>, honies; for I wouldn’t be guilty of a +falsehood on no account,” added ’Sias, solemnly.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Yes, Miss Em. was a good gal, sure enough,” put in +Aunt Sally. “Miss Em. never meant no harm, and she +never did nothing to nobody.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“‘<i>Never did nothing to nobody!</i>’” repeated old ’Sias, in +supreme scorn. “<i>That’s</i> your notion of an angel and of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_312'>312</span>Miss Em., is it? You put my pipe out with your ‘Never +did nothing to nobody!’ Miss Em. was always doing good +to everybody, there!”</p> + +<p class='c009'>“Well, I thinks as people what means no harm and never +does nothing to nobody is a heap gooder than them as is +always a-aggrawating people,” retorted Sally.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Before taking leave of old ’Sias I must mention one circumstance +of which I hope my readers will be glad, for his +sake.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Sereny, to use her own words, “got religion.” She really +<i>did</i>, if a total though gradual change of heart and life and +manners for the better was any proof of it. And she became +at last what she had promised to be at first, the comfort +of her poor, old, patient husband’s latter days.</p> + +<p class='c009'>In the spring of the following year Ronald and Emolyn +were married.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Ronald, who was, in the right of his wife, the owner and +the heir of more wealth than he would ever know what to do +with, resigned his commission in the Navy.</p> + +<p class='c009'>“It is all very well,” he said, “to talk of the duty of +serving one’s country, but there are hundreds of men who +are just as able and as willing to serve as I am, and who +need my position a great deal more than I do. I must resign +to make room for one of them—as well as to stay home +with my bonny bride.”</p> + +<p class='c009'>Of course Em. agreed with him in this.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Their honeymoon was spent at Edengarden, while the +Wilderness Manor-house, which had been given to Em. as +her marriage portion, was being renovated to receive the +newly wedded pair.</p> + +<p class='c009'>John Palmer and his family were to continue to live in +the Red Wing and manage the estate.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Mr. and Mrs. Leonidas Bruce consented to reside at The +Breezes as long as the aged commodore should live.</p> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c002'> + <div>THE END</div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='pbb'> + <hr class='pb c003'> +</div> +<div class='border'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c004'> + <div><span class='xlarge'>POPULAR BOOKS</span></div> + <div class='c002'>By MRS. E. D. E. N. 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L. BURT COMPANY, PUBLISHERS</div> + <div>52 Duane Street New York</div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> + <div class='nf-center'> + <div>Copyright 1876–1892</div> + <div><span class='sc'>By Robert Bonner’s Sons</span></div> + <div>Renewal granted to Mrs. Charlotte Southworth Lawrence, 1904</div> + <div class='c003'>EM’S HUSBAND</div> + <div class='c003'>Printed by special arrangement with <span class='sc'>Street & Smith</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='chapter ph2'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c004'> + <div>Good Fiction Worth Reading.</div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<p class='c008'>A series of romances containing several of the old favorites in the field +of historical fiction, replete with powerful romances of love and diplomacy +that excel in thrilling and absorbing interest.</p> + +<p class='c009'><strong>A COLONIAL FREE-LANCE.</strong> A story of American Colonial Times. By +Chauncey C. Hotchkiss. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson +Davis. Price, $1.00.</p> + +<p class='c012'>A book that appeals to Americans as a vivid picture of Revolutionary +scenes. The story is a strong one, a thrilling one. It causes the true +American to flush with excitement, to devour chapter after chapter, until +the eyes smart, and it fairly smokes with patriotism. The love story is a +singularly charming idyl.</p> + +<p class='c009'><strong>THE TOWER OF LONDON.</strong> A Historical Romance of the Times of Lady +Jane Grey and Mary Tudor. By Wm. Harrison Ainsworth. Cloth, 12mo. with +four illustrations by George Cruikshank. Price, $1.00.</p> + +<p class='c012'>This romance of the “Tower of London” depicts the Tower as palace, +prison and fortress, with many historical associations. The era is the +middle of the sixteenth century.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The story is divided into two parts, one dealing with Lady Jane Grey, +and the other with Mary Tudor as Queen, introducing other notable characters +of the era. Throughout the story holds the interest of the reader +in the midst of intrigue and conspiracy, extending considerably over a +half a century.</p> + +<p class='c009'><strong>IN DEFIANCE OF THE KING.</strong> A Romance of the American Revolution. +By Chauncey C. Hotchkiss. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson +Davis. Price, $1.00.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Mr. Hotchkiss has etched in burning words a story of Yankee bravery, +and true love that thrills from beginning to end, with the spirit of the +Revolution. The heart beats quickly, and we feel ourselves taking a +part in the exciting scenes described. His whole story is so absorbing +that you will sit up far into the night to finish it. As a love romance +it is charming.</p> + +<p class='c009'><strong>GARTHOWEN.</strong> A story of a Welsh Homestead. By Allen Raine. Cloth, +12mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson Davis. Price, $1.00.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“This is a little idyl of humble life and enduring love, laid bare before +us, very real and pure, which in its telling shows us some strong points of +Welsh character—the pride, the hasty temper, the quick dying out of wrath.... +We call this a well-written story, interesting alike through its +romance and its glimpses into another life than ours. A delightful and +clever picture of Welsh village life. The result is excellent.”—Detroit Free +Press.</p> + +<p class='c009'><strong>MIFANWY.</strong> The story of a Welsh Singer. By Allan Raine. Cloth, +12mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson Davis. Price, $1.00.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“This is a love story, simple, tender and pretty as one would care to +read. The action throughout is brisk and pleasing; the characters, it is apparent +at once, are as true to life as though the author had known them +all personally. Simple in all its situations, the story is worked up in that +touching and quaint strain which never grows wearisome, no matter how +often the lights and shadows of love are introduced. It rings true, and +does not tax the imagination.”—Boston Herald.</p> + +<p class='c012'>For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the publishers, +A. L. BURT COMPANY, 52–58 Duane St., New York.</p> + +<p class='c009'><strong>DARNLEY.</strong> A Romance of the times of Henry VIII. and Cardinal Wolsey. +By G. P. R. James. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson Davis. +Price, $1.00.</p> + +<p class='c012'>In point of publication, “Darnley” is that work by Mr. James which +follows “Richelieu,” and, if rumor can be credited. It was owing to the advice +and insistence of our own Washington Irving that we are indebted +primarily for the story, the young author questioning whether he could +properly paint the difference in the characters of the two great cardinals. +And it is not surprising that James should have hesitated; he had been +eminently successful in giving to the world the portrait of Richelieu as a +man, and by attempting a similar task with Wolsey as the theme, was +much like tempting fortune. Irving insisted that “Darnley” came naturally +in sequence, and this opinion being supported by Sir Walter Scott, +the author set about the work.</p> + +<p class='c012'>As a historical romance “Darnley” is a book that can be taken up +pleasurably again and again, for there is about it that subtle charm which +those who are strangers to the works of G. P. R. James have claimed was +only to be imparted by Dumas.</p> + +<p class='c012'>If there was nothing more about the work to attract especial attention, +the account of the meeting of the kings on the historic “field of the cloth of +gold” would entitle the story to the most favorable consideration of every +reader.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There is really but little pure romance in this story, for the author has +taken care to imagine love passages only between those whom history has +credited with having entertained the tender passion one for another, and +he succeeds in making such lovers as all the world must love.</p> + +<p class='c009'><strong>CAPTAIN BRAND, OF THE SCHOONER CENTIPEDE.</strong> By Lieut. +Henry A. Wise, U.S.N. (Harry Gringo). Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations +by J. Watson Davis. Price, $1.00.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The re-publication of this story will please those lovers of sea yarns +who delight in so much of the salty flavor of the ocean as can come through +the medium of a printed page, for never has a story of the sea and those +“who go down in ships” been written by one more familiar with the scenes +depicted.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The one book of this gifted author which is best remembered, and which +will be read with pleasure for many years to come, is “Captain Brand,” +who, as the author states on his title page, was a “pirate of eminence in +the West Indies.” As a sea story pure and simple, “Captain Brand” has +never been excelled, and as a story of piratical life, told without the usual +embellishments of blood and thunder, it has no equal.</p> + +<p class='c009'><strong>NICK OF THE WOODS.</strong> A story of the Early Settlers of Kentucky. By +Robert Montgomery Bird. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson +Davis. Price, $1.00.</p> + +<p class='c012'>This most popular novel and thrilling story of early frontier life in +Kentucky was originally published in the year 1837. The novel, long out of +print, had in its day a phenomenal sale, for its realistic presentation of +Indian and frontier life in the early days of settlement in the South, narrated +in the tale with all the art of a practiced writer. A very charming +love romance runs through the story. This new and tasteful edition of +“Nick of the Woods” will be certain to make many new admirers for +this enchanting story from Dr. Bird’s clever and versatile pen.</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c010'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the publishers, <strong>A. L. BURT COMPANY, 52–58 Duane St., New York</strong>.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c009'><strong>GUY FAWKES.</strong> A Romance of the Gunpowder Treason. By Wm. Harrison +Ainsworth. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by George Cruikshank. +Price, $1.00.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The “Gunpowder Plot” was a modest attempt to blow up Parliament, +the King and his Counsellors. James of Scotland, then King of England, +was weak-minded and extravagant. He hit upon the efficient scheme of +extorting money from the people by imposing taxes on the Catholics. In +their natural resentment to this extortion, a handful of bold spirits concluded +to overthrow the government. Finally the plotters were arrested, +and the King put to torture Guy Fawkes and the other prisoners with +royal vigor. A very intense love story runs through the entire romance.</p> + +<p class='c009'><strong>THE SPIRIT OF THE BORDER.</strong> A Romance of the Early Settlers in the +Ohio Valley. By Zane Grey. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson +Davis. Price, $1.00.</p> + +<p class='c012'>A book rather out of the ordinary is this “Spirit of the Border.” The +main thread of the story has to do with the work of the Moravian missionaries +in the Ohio Valley. Incidentally the reader is given details of the +frontier life of those hardy pioneers who broke the wilderness for the planting +of this great nation. Chief among these, as a matter of course, is +Lewis Wetzel, one of the most peculiar, and at the same time the most +admirable of all the brave men who spent their lives battling with the +savage foe, that others might dwell in comparative security.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Details of the establishment and destruction of the Moravian “Village +of Peace” are given at some length, and with minute description. The +efforts to Christianize the Indians are described as they never have been +before, and the author has depicted the characters of the leaders of the +several Indian tribes with great care, which of itself will be of interest to +the student.</p> + +<p class='c012'>By no means least among the charms of the story are the vivid word-pictures +of the thrilling adventures, and the intense paintings of the beauties +of nature, as seen in the almost unbroken forests.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It is the spirit of the frontier which is described, and one can by it, +perhaps, the better understand why men, and women, too, willingly braved +every privation and danger that the westward progress of the star of empire +might be the more certain and rapid. A love story, simple and tender, +runs through the book.</p> + +<p class='c009'><strong>RICHELIEU.</strong> A tale of France in the reign of King Louis XIII. By G. P. +R. James. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson Davis. Price, $1.00.</p> + +<p class='c012'>In 1829 Mr. James published his first romance, “Richelieu,” and was +recognized at once as one of the masters of the craft.</p> + +<p class='c012'>In this book he laid the story during those later days of the great cardinal’s +life, when his power was beginning to wane, but while it was +yet sufficiently strong to permit now and then of volcanic outbursts which +overwhelmed foes and carried friends to the topmost wave of prosperity. +One of the most striking portions of the story is that of Cinq Mar’s conspiracy; +the method of conducting criminal cases, and the political trickery +resorted to by royal favorites, affording a better insight into the statecraft +of that day than can be had even by an exhaustive study of history. +It is a powerful romance of love and diplomacy, and in point of thrilling +and absorbing interest has never been excelled.</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c010'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the publishers, <strong>A. L. BURT COMPANY, 52–58 Duane St., New York</strong>.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c009'><strong>WINDSOR CASTLE.</strong> A Historical Romance of the Reign of Henry VIII., +Catharine of Aragon and Anne Boleyn. By Wm. Harrison Ainsworth. Cloth, +12mo. with four illustrations by George Cruikshank. Price, $1.00.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Windsor Castle” is the story of Henry VIII., Catharine, and Anne +Boleyn. “Bluff King Hal,” although a well-loved monarch, was none too +good a one in many ways. Of all his selfishness and unwarrantable acts, +none was more discreditable than his divorce from Catharine, and his marriage +to the beautiful Anne Boleyn. The King’s love was as brief as it +was vehement. Jane Seymour, waiting maid on the Queen, attracted him, +and Anne Boleyn was forced to the block to make room for her successor. +This romance is one of extreme interest to all readers.</p> + +<p class='c009'><strong>HORSESHOE ROBINSON.</strong> A tale of the Tory Ascendency in South Carolina +in 1780. By John P. Kennedy. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J. +Watson Davis. Price, $1.00.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Among the old favorites in the field of what is known as historical fiction, +there are none which appeal to a larger number of Americans than +Horseshoe Robinson, and this because it is the only story which depicts +with fidelity to the facts the heroic efforts of the colonists in South Carolina +to defend their homes against the brutal oppression of the British +under such leaders as Cornwallis and Tarleton.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The reader is charmed with the story of love which forms the thread +of the tale, and then impressed with the wealth of detail concerning those +times. The picture of the manifold sufferings of the people, is never overdrawn, +but painted faithfully and honestly by one who spared neither +time nor labor in his efforts to present in this charming love story all that +price in blood and tears which the Carolinians paid as their share in the +winning of the republic.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Take it all in all, “Horseshoe Robinson” is a work which should be +found on every book-shelf, not only because it is a most entertaining +story, but because of the wealth of valuable information concerning the +colonists which it contains. That it has been brought out once more, well +illustrated, is something which will give pleasure to thousands who have +long desired an opportunity to read the story again, and to the many who +have tried vainly in these latter days to procure a copy that they might +read it for the first time.</p> + +<p class='c009'><strong>THE PEARL OF ORR’S ISLAND.</strong> A story of the Coast of Maine. By +Harriet Beecher Stowe. Cloth, 12mo. Illustrated. Price, $1.00.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Written prior to 1862, the “Pearl of Orr’s Island” is ever new; a book +filled with delicate fancies, such as seemingly array themselves anew each +time one reads them. One sees the “sea like an unbroken mirror all +around the pine-girt, lonely shores of Orr’s Island,” and straightway +comes “the heavy, hollow moan of the surf on the beach, like the wild +angry howl of some savage animal.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Who can read of the beginning of that sweet life, named Mara, which +came into this world under the very shadow of the Death angel’s wings, +without having an intense desire to know how the premature bud blossomed? +Again and again one lingers over the descriptions of the character +of that baby boy Moses, who came through the tempest, amid the +angry billows, pillowed on his dead mother’s breast.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There is no more faithful portrayal of New England life than that +which Mrs. Stowe gives in “The Pearl of Orr’s Island.”</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c010'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the publishers, <strong>A. L. BURT COMPANY, 52–58 Duane St., New York</strong>.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='chapter ph2'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c004'> + <div>The Popular Charles Garvice Books</div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='figleft id002'> +<img src='images/i_317.jpg' alt='[book]' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<p class='c008'>This series of Popular Fiction comprises +the best novels written by that +popular author, Charles Garvice, well-known +throughout England and America +for his stories dealing with the lives and +interests of the common people.</p> + +<p class='c009'>Bound in Handsome Cloth Binding.</p> + +<p class='c009'>All Copyright Books. <strong>Price, 60 Cents.</strong></p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c010'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'><strong>A Heritage of Hate</strong>, or A Change of Heart.</div> + <div class='line'><strong>A Life’s Mistake</strong>, or Love’s Forgiveness.</div> + <div class='line'><strong>A Modern Juliet</strong>, or The Unknown Future.</div> + <div class='line'><strong>At Love’s Cost</strong>, or Her Rival’s Triumph.</div> + <div class='line'><strong>Better than Life</strong>, or Her Bitter Cup.</div> + <div class='line'><strong>By Devious Ways</strong>, or Love Will Find a Way.</div> + <div class='line'><strong>Heart for Heart</strong>, or Love’s Queer Pranks.</div> + <div class='line'><strong>In Cupid’s Chains</strong>, or A Slave for Life.</div> + <div class='line'><strong>Just A Girl</strong>, or The Strange Duchess.</div> + <div class='line'><strong>Love, The Tyrant</strong>, or Where Her Heart Led.</div> + <div class='line'><strong>Maida</strong>, or A Child of Sorrow.</div> + <div class='line'><strong>Marcia Drayton</strong>, or Her Heart’s First Choice.</div> + <div class='line'><strong>Nell of Shorne Mills</strong>, or One Heart’s Burden.</div> + <div class='line'><strong>Once in A Life</strong>, or The Secret of Her Heart.</div> + <div class='line'><strong>Queen Kate</strong>, or A Willful Lassie.</div> + <div class='line'><strong>The Outcast of the Family</strong>, or A Battle of Love and Pride.</div> + <div class='line'><strong>The Story of A Passion</strong>, or Guided by Her Heart.</div> + <div class='line'><strong>The Shadow of Her Life</strong>, or Love’s Mistake.</div> + <div class='line'><strong>’Twas Love’s Fault</strong>, or A Young Girl’s Trust.</div> + <div class='line'><strong>With All Her Heart</strong>, or Love Begets Faith.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-b c010'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the publishers, <strong>A. L. BURT COMPANY, 52–58 Duane St., New York</strong>.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<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 c004'> + <div>TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES</div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<table class='table0'> + <tr> + <th class='c013'>Page</th> + <th class='c013'>Changed from</th> + <th class='c014'>Changed to</th> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c015'><a href='#t22'>22</a></td> + <td class='c016'>“Em., hush! you’re crazy!” broken in Susan Palmer</td> + <td class='c017'>“Em., hush! you’re crazy!” broke in Susan Palmer</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c015'><a href='#t43'>43</a></td> + <td class='c016'>clapped her hands over he own lips</td> + <td class='c017'>clapped her hands over her own lips</td> + </tr> + <tr> + + + + <td class='c015'>everywhere</td> + <td class='c016'>Abishav or Abishag</td> + <td class='c017'>Abishey</td> + </tr> +</table> + + <ul class='ul_1'> + <li>Typos fixed; non-standard spelling and dialect retained. + </li> + </ul> + +</div> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76916 ***</div> + </body> + <!-- created with ppgen.py 3.57e (with regex) on 2025-09-01 22:43:39 GMT --> +</html> + diff --git a/76916-h/images/cover.jpg b/76916-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..407b5c0 --- /dev/null +++ b/76916-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/76916-h/images/i_317.jpg b/76916-h/images/i_317.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5384fab --- /dev/null +++ b/76916-h/images/i_317.jpg diff --git a/76916-h/images/i_title.jpg b/76916-h/images/i_title.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f92e358 --- /dev/null +++ b/76916-h/images/i_title.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f57c199 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for eBook #76916 +(https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/76916) |
